VINNIE'S ADVENTURE.
In due time a rough farm-wagon was backed down upon the wharf, and a swarthy man, with a high, hooked nose, like the inverted prow of a ship, boarded the schooner, and scratched his head, through its shock of stiff, coarse hair, by way of salutation to Vinnie, who came on deck to meet him.
"Do' no's you'll like ridin' with me, in a lumber-wagon, on a stiff board seat."
"O, I sha'n't mind!" said Vinnie, who was only too glad to go.
"What part of the settlement ye goin' to?" he asked, as he lifted one end of the trunk, while the captain took up the other.
"To Mr. Betterson's house; Mrs. Betterson is my sister," said Vinnie.
The man dropped his end of the trunk, and turned and glared at her.
"You've got holt o' the wrong man this time!" he said. "I don't take nobody in my wagon to the house of no sich a man as Lord Betterson. Ye may tell him as much."
"Will you take me to any house near by?" said the astonished Vinnie.
"Not if you're a connection of the Bettersons, I won't for no money! I've nothin' to do with that family, but to hate and despise 'em. Tell 'em that too. But they know it a'ready. My name's Dudley Peakslow."
And, in spite of the captain's remonstrance, the angry man turned his back upon the schooner, and drove off in his wagon.
It took Vinnie a minute to recover from the shock his rude conduct gave her. Then she smiled faintly, and said,—
"It's too bad I couldn't have a ride in his old wagon! But he wouldn't be very agreeable company, would he?" So she tried to console herself for the disappointment. She had thought all along: "If I can do no better, I will take the stage to North Mills; Jack will help me get over to my sister's from there." And it now seemed as if she might have to take that route.
The schooner was discharging her miscellaneous freight of Eastern merchandise,—dry goods, groceries, hardware, boots and shoes,—and the captain was too much occupied to do anything more for her that afternoon.
She grew restless under the delay; and feeling that she ought to make one more effort to find a conveyance direct to Long Woods, she set off alone to make inquiries for herself.
The first place she visited was a hotel she had noticed in her morning's walk,—the Farmers' Home; and she was just going away from the door, having met with no success, when a slim youth, carrying his head jauntily on one side, came tripping after her, and accosted her with an apologetic smile and lifted hat.
"Excuse me,—I was told you wanted to find somebody going out to Mr. Betterson's at Long Woods."
"O yes! do you know of anybody I can ride with?"
"I am in a way of knowing,—why, yes,—I think there is a gentleman going out early to-morrow morning. A gentleman and his daughter. Wife and daughter, in fact. A two-seated wagon; you might ride on the hind-seat with the daughter. Stopping at the Prairie Flower."
"O, thank you! And can I go there and find them?"
"I am going that way, and, if you please, I will introduce you," said the youth.
Vinnie replied that, if he would give her their names, she would save him the trouble. For, despite his affability, there was something about him she distrusted and disliked,—an indefinable air of insincerity, and a look out of his eyes of gay vagabondism and dissipation.
He declared that it would be no trouble; moreover, he could not at that moment recall the names; so, as there was no help for it, she let him walk by her side.
At the Prairie Flower,—which was not quite so lovely or fragrant a public-house as the name had led her to expect,—he showed her into a small, dingy sitting-room, up one flight of stairs, and went to speak with the clerk.
"The ladies will be here presently," he said, returning to her in a few minutes. "Meanwhile I thought I would order some refreshments." And he was followed into the room by a waiter bringing a basket of cake and two glasses of wine.
