CHAPTER XII.
NEW FORTUNES.
Sara went home with slow steps, and a questioning heart.
"Am I cold and proud?" she thought. "Is it wrong to be indifferent to these petty things about me, and to love books better than people? Do I look for defects rather than virtues, I wonder? Oh, dear; how much harder it is to be right than to _do right in this hard world!"
She opened the cottage door, and saw a sight that drove away all other thoughts; for there sat Uncle Jabez Wanamead in close conversation with Morton, while Molly, open-mouthed, was holding baby, and drinking in every word. It was a great shock to Sara; for having returned to the battle with her brother, fresh-armed with authority, after Glendenning's departure, she had made such an impression upon him that she supposed he had entirely given up his dream of being a fisherman, and was now only thinking of a flitting to Boston. But, evidently, from his flushed, interested face at present all her labor was in vain. Uncle Jabez rose awkwardly as she entered, with a "Good-evenin', Sairay, thort I'd call 'round a spell."
"Good-evening," she said, constraining herself to be pleasant. "It is growing warmer out."
"Yaas, looks like a break-up, some, makes a feller think o' the Banks these days. Thort I'd see what Mort hed laid aout to do 'bout shippin' 'long o' me."
"He is not going," said Sara promptly. "I have other plans for him," with a beseeching look at the boy, who avoided her eye.
"Wall, in course, jest es ye say, but I do s'pose, ef Reub Olmstead was alive naow, his word would be go."
Sara winced. During all this struggle she had been cruelly hampered by her feeling that, possibly, she was acting entirely against what was likely to have been her dead father's wishes, and now this fear rose so strongly again as almost to paralyze her.
"If he were only here—if I could put the responsibility into his hands—if I had any one," she was saying to herself, when there came a thought that calmed her, as the mother's voice calms a frightened child. "I have a Father; why don't I put it in his hands?"
Her rigid face relaxed into a lovely smile, and, looking at her brother with the winning sweetness she could assume at times, she said,—
"I will say no more about this matter, Morton; you have only our heavenly Father to answer to now. Decide as you think is right. Uncle Jabez, will you give him till to-morrow?"
"Sartain, sartain; and, see here, my boy: I'm free to say I've urged ye to go, fur I need a clipper-built little feller like you; but I say naow, ef I hed as good a sister's you've got, I'd think twicet afore I went agin her, an' thet's the truth."
There was no mistaking his earnestness; and as he picked up his old tarpaulin, and shook hands with Sara in farewell, the respect and friendliness of his manner thrilled her with pleasure and surprise. After he had gone she talked lightly about other matters, had a frolic with Molly and the baby, helped Morton with his examples, and mended a coat of his which had come to grief, all as if there were not a care upon her mind, and indeed there was none; she had cast it on the Lord.
Morton was very quiet all the evening, but just before he mounted the steep steps to his chamber in the loft he came to her side.
"Sara," he said.
She looked up sweetly.
"I've decided." "Yes, Morton?"
"I'm going to stay at home."
"My dear, good brother!"
She drew him down and kissed him tenderly, while the tears stood in the eyes of both; and from that moment there was a new bond between them, stronger than the past had ever known.
One day some weeks later Morton came in with a large roll from the post- office, and threw it into Sara's lap.
"Ah!" she said eagerly, "it is Professor Grandet's hand; what can he have sent me?" and hurried to tear the wrapper open.
Inside were several articles in pamphlet form, two being his own composition, and the rest by another well-known scientist, all relating to the strata and minerals of this very portion of the coast. Being just then at leisure, she began one in which a certain sentence had caught her attention, and soon looked up with an air of excitement. "See here, Morton! This is certainly a mistake; and in B——'s paper, too," reading aloud a certain statement in regard to the rock formations about a mile inland. "He has, you see, made the same mistake we did at first in regard to the dip of that vein, and which we afterwards discovered to be wrong, when we came across the outcropping near the old Judd farm. Don't you remember?"
"Yes," said Morton, dropping his fish-lines to come nearer; "let's hear what he says about it."
She read him a page or two, and they talked the matter over still further; then she continued her reading, only to break out again after a little.
"Listen, Morton! Professor Grandet is with us. He isn't sure, but, from surface indications, he thinks just as we do, and the two men are having a great argument. They're going to discuss the matter next week before the Geological Society. Do you know, I'm half tempted to write Professor Grandet what we have discovered? It might make it perfectly clear to him."
"Well, I would," said Morton, going back to his lines, more interested in them than in what, had he known it, was to have a great and lasting influence on his own and sisters' lives.
So next day Sara seated herself, with an old atlas for a desk, and wrote with care and precision what she had to tell; then, directing the missive, she went to the old teapot in search of the two cents to pay its postage.
As she lifted the lid and peered in, a sigh escaped her, for the little store of silver and copper was getting low; soon it would be necessary to take another bill from the roll of greenbacks so carefully hoarded; and the thought alarmed her, for already it was greatly reduced in size; then, remembering the lesson of dependence she was trying to teach herself, she took out two of the pennies, and resolutely replaced the lid, resolving not even to think of what it was, apparently, beyond her power to remedy.
Yet she could not keep herself quite free from worry these days. Each change of season in our fickle climate means expense; and now the spring was coming on, bringing its especial needs, her feeling was often one of sick despair. It is so hard for the young to learn simply to wait; and poor Sara felt that, to make the outlay necessary for the reception of summer boarders, would actually impoverish them, and then—what if the boarders never came? The thought was appalling!
In this frame of mind she was putting on their frugal supper of dried herring, with baked potatoes and salt, a few weeks later, when Morton dashed in.
"My gracious, Sara! I believe you get more mail than even Squire
Scrantoun. Just look at these!"
There was another roll, evidently pamphlets, and two letters,—one from Professor Grandet, the other in an unknown hand. She hurriedly opened the professor's, and struggled through its tangled and much abbreviated chirography, looking up finally with a pale, puzzled, yet radiant face. "I can't quite make it out. I think—it seems to say that my letter has done him much good; he says it was read before the society, and is printed somewhere."
"Perhaps it's in that paper book," suggested Molly, looking up from a shell box she was making.
"This? why, yes; I didn't think,"—tearing it open. "This seems to be a
Report of the Twelfth Annual Meeting"—
"Oh, do look and see if it's got your letter in!" broke in impatient Molly, springing up, and letting her shells drop in a pearly shower to the floor.
Sara turned the leaves excitedly, then stopped; and her sweet face flushed a vivid crimson.
"It is—it is here—in print—just as I wrote it; and it says, 'Letter from Miss Sara Olmstead, of Killamet, in which the vexed question is definitely settled.'"
Many of us have experienced the tingling rapture of seeing our opinions in print for the first time; but it could be to few what it was to Sara, isolated, and of humble station as she was. It seemed as if that thrill of pleasure came from the very centre of her being, and tingled even to her finger-tips, while Morton and Molly, more demonstrative, if not more glad, danced about her with regular whoops of delight; after which the former mounted an uncertain chair for a rostrum, and read off the modest, concise, and clear little epistle with a flourish that ending in a crash, as the chair gave way, and landed him in the midst of Molly's shells, with crushing effect.
"Oh, oh!" laughed Sara, "do be careful;" while, with a scream of dismay,
Molly fled to the rescue of her treasures.
Amid the hubub the excited girl had almost forgotten the other letter; but, as quiet was restored, she opened it, and read, with such astonishment as no words can depict, this business-like note:—
Miss Sara Olmstead:
Dear Madam,—On recommendation of Professor Grandet, after reading your letter lately published in the Twelfth Report of the M. G. and M. Society, I am empowered by the Board of Control of Dartmoor College to tender you a position in the Geological Department, as assistant to Professor Macon, in charge. The duties are not heavy,— mostly classification and correspondence,—and will only require your attendance six hours per diem. The salary is ten dollars per week. Please reply, stating your decision, as soon as possible, and address,
Yours truly,
J. G. ADAMS.
Sara looked up with something like awe.
"Morton," she said in a tone that almost frightened him, it was so solemn, "the Lord is taking care of us; we needn't have any more fear now, for we are safe with him."
I think few people sat down to a happier, though not many to a more frugal meal than theirs that night. Sara had not then a misgiving in regard to her fitness for the position; she was so filled with the impression of its being heaven-sent, that she felt, as did the apostles of old, that "words would be given her, what she should say," and wit also, what she should do. As to the salary, it seemed princely to these modest little folk; and the only wonder was, how they should ever spend it.
"But how will you manage about baby? I don't suppose they'd let him come to college," giggled Molly, with her mouth full of potato, at which she naturally choked, and had to be patted on the back by Morton, who perhaps performed the ceremony with more vigor than was necessary.
"There! there! Morton, gently dear. Now, Molly, don't speak again till you've swallowed your food. Of course I will have to find some good, trusty person to look after baby while I'm gone, for I mean you both to go to school every minute that you can."
The child made a wry face at this.
"And I just know they'll have it most a hundred weeks in a year; they always do in big cities, Hattie Felcher says so."
"No, they don't," said Morton promptly.
"Well, I guess she knows, Mort Olmstead! Her uncle lives to Boston, and"—
"Well, she don't, if she says that!" calmly boning his sixth herring.
"She does too!" red with excitement; "she was there visiting when she was a baby, and she"—
"Hush, Molly! Morton, why will you be so tantalizing? Think a minute, dear, and tell me how many weeks there are in a year; then you'll see what Morton means."
Molly, after an instant's calculation, saw the point, and shot a wrathful glance across the table.
"Well," she remarked, in a judicial summing up of the matter, "you may think you're smart, but that don't help your fare and hands from being so greasy they're just disgusting; and I don't care, so!"
"Neither do I," said Morton, calmly attacking his seventh herring, and his hot-headed little sister, as usual, was vanquished by his superior coolness and precision.
This time even Miss Prue was satisfied, and entered heartily into all the plans and arrangements for the flitting, while Morton forgot his own disappointment in the interest of this great change.
They were in the midst of the packing, Sara, Miss Prue, and Morton, with Molly guarding the baby, who had a savage desire to snatch at everything and destroy it, when the elder maiden laughed out,—
"Sara, I've a scheme; you can let the house as a summer cottage, instead of taking the boarders I once insisted upon. Now, come! Isn't that an idea?"
"If I can't sell it," said Sara.
"Of course, but then you can't. Nobody ever sells anything in Killamet except tobacco. I doubt if you could give it away!"
Sara smiled and sighed in a breath.
"I'd hate to do either, but I fear it will never be our home again, so why cling to it? But really, do you suppose any city family would be satisfied with this?" indicating the large, littered room with a sweeping gesture.
"Why not, just for the summer? They crowd into far more uncomfortable places, I'm sure. I can imagine this room with pretty rugs and cane chairs, and a hammock slung across the alcove, and a pinebough ablaze in the fireplace, being a most attractive nook some cool summer evening, after a long day of blue-fishing; and there's one nice bedroom besides the loft."
Sara shook her head dubiously.
"I wish some one would take it, but I'm afraid it will have to stay closed and useless. Molly, Molly! Do watch the baby; he's just starting for the best glass sugar-bowl with the hammer, and I think he has some tacks in his mouth."
Baby having been made to disgorge his too sharp repast, the talk ran on to other things, Miss Prue giving much valuable advice on "How to live on ten dollars a week;" but the sage maxims were so interspersed with hammerings, hunts, and hurry, that I fear much of their value was lost on Sara.
It happened to be a fair day when they left for the new home, and it seemed as if all Killamet turned out to bid them God-speed. They ate their last dinner with faithful Miss Prue, then, accompanied by a goodly little procession, walked down to the beach, where Jasper Norris, who had somehow happened home a few days before, was waiting with his tidy little wherry to row them across the bay to Norcross, where they would reach the railroad, their goods having been sent by wagon a day or two before. It was curious to see how differently each of the Olmstead group was affected by this leave-taking.
Sara was pale and still, and her beautiful, sad eyes heavy with unshed tears; Morton had an air of manliness new and good to see, and seemed determined to look after every one and everything; Molly's cheeks were red, and her eyes aglow with excitement, as her feet danced over the white sand, while baby laughed at the surrounding friends with charming impartiality, and talked every minute in his own particular dialect, which eye and motion made almost as intelligible as the queen's English.
At length they stood on the crescent beach, the sea rolling in at their feet, as Sara had watched it so many times. A fresh April wind curled the waves into fluffy white turbans (as Molly observed), and an April sun gave them an almost blinding sparkle. Each lighthouse gleamed whitely across the bay, and the tall cliff rocks stood out in bold relief against the dazzling blue of the sky; but Jasper saw it all as through a mist, for his heart was heavy.
What did this departure portend? Would it break up their life-long friendship? He was glad to see his mother take Sara's hand, and, as she kissed her tenderly, exact a promise that she would write occasionally.
But when the others crowded around, each eager for the last word, he turned away and busied himself with his tiller-rope, sick at heart. At last the good-bys were all said; Morton had taken his seat at the rudder, and Molly was nestled with baby on a cushion in the bottom of the taut little boat, when, just as Jasper was holding out a hand to help Sara aboard, she turned and gave a last, long, lingering look over the quaint little town in its radiant setting of sea and sky.
"Good-by, all—all I love!" she said brokenly, then turned to Jasper, and was soon silently seated in her designated place.
The young man, also silent, took up the oars to fit them into the rowlocks, when suddenly Molly was seen scrambling to her feet.
"Wait, Jap, wait!" she cried eagerly, and leaping over the seats, sprang lightly ashore.
"Why, what is it?" "Have you lost something?" "What can the child want?" were some of the questions showered after her from boat and beach, as she was seen to stoop and plunge a quickly bared arm into the water.
She drew it forth again, and held up something green and many-clawed.
"It's just a lobster I saw," she said calmly, as she climbed back to her place with the surprised crustacean gingerly suspended from her dripping hand. "We can boil it to-morrow, Sara, then I'll have the claws to suck; where shall we put it so't it won't grip the baby?"
The laughter called forth by this characteristic escapade effectually dispelled all tears and sadness.
Even Jasper grinned, as he handed the creature on to Morton, to be thrown into the bait-box under the stern-seat, and, amid lighter sallies and laughter, instead of tears, they rowed away. But Sara's eyes rested upon her well-loved birthplace until they had rounded the lighthouse, and the familiar scene was quite shut out by the intervening tongue of land.
It was about mid-afternoon when the little party entered the railway coach at Norcross; and this being Molly's first glimpse of a train of cars, her eyes would have put an owl's to shame for size and roundness, as she sat on the very edge of the seat, and stared uneasily about her.
Jasper, having fixed them comfortably, gave a hurried hand to each, leaving the last for Sara. He had thought a dozen times just what he would say to her at parting, but everything went out of his head in the nervousness of that last anxious moment, with the engine apparently determined to run away with all who would linger over their farewells, and he simply uttered a choked "Well, good-by, Sairay!" as he held her hand an instant in a trembling clasp.
"Good-by, Jasper, I shall not soon forget your kindness; but do hurry off before the train starts." So does the rush and rattle of modern times overpower romance and sentiment.
But, safe on the station platform, he watched the one window he cared for with misty eyes, while Sara on its other side felt that the last of home was leaving her, while before her stretched only a strange, untried, uncertain future.