CHAPTER XIX
THE MASTER
A bolt from the cloudless blue could not have startled the little gathering on the lawn more than did the arrival of the distinguished stranger at the gate of Happy House. Moreover, French Mercedes cars did not often pass through North Hero; this was purple and cream color and the chauffeur wore purple livery. And the man who walked up the path had a bearing that distinctly set him apart from ordinary mortals.
Nancy, in a panic, wanted the earth to swallow her, but as the earth was very solid, she had no choice but to drag herself forward. She had, only a moment before, prayed that something would happen—and something had!
Peter Hyde had rushed forward to greet the newcomer and this had given Nancy a moment to rally her scattered wits. She was too busy whispering an explanation to Miss Sabrina to notice how friendly had been the master's greeting to Peter.
"Miss Leavitt, may I present Mr. Theodore Hoffman—and Miss Anne Leavitt."
Peter's voice was as steady as though he was introducing any John Smith; there was even a twinkle in his eye, as it caught Nancy's glance, that seemed to say: "I have brought the master to you—now!"
There was a gentleness in the keen, deep-set eyes, a friendliness in the musical voice of the master that suddenly quieted Nancy's fluttering nerves. Time and again, at the very thought of this meeting, she had been so frightened and now—she was not a bit afraid. She was even glad he had come when the garden looked so pretty, when Aunt Sabrina was so proudly garbed in her best silk, when Aunt Milly, all pink and white, with Nonie perched on the arm of her chair, was leaning over explaining some intricate stitch in a bit of embroidery to Liz, to whom embroidery was not less remote than Sanskrit literature.
Mrs. Sniggs and Mrs. Todd were staring, open-mouthed, first at the stranger, then at the cream-and-purple car at the gate.
Nancy's spirits that had dropped to such depths behind the syringa bushes soared again. At last her moment had come! The master was declaring his delight in having chosen such a happy afternoon to come to Happy House; he admired the garden, and the old house; he admitted to a great curiosity concerning the Islands—he had never visited them before.
Nancy left him with Aunt Sabrina. Aunt Sabrina would manage to tell him a great deal—Nancy, watching, knew just when she left the Indians and the burning of Freedom and began on Ethan Allen and the Green Mountain Boys and the coming of Benedict Arnold and his flagship to the Island.
"He'll love her," she whispered to Peter Hyde, nodding toward where the master leaned with deep attention over Miss Sabrina's chair. "Look me square in the eye, Peter! Did you know he was coming to-day?"
"On my honor, I didn't. Is the play ready?"
"All ready, in a nice fat envelope. For goodness sake, look at Webb!"
Webb, returning from the house where he had hurried to tell B'lindy of the coming of the distinguished guest ("Don' know who he is nor whar he come from, but he's got one of them thur autymobiles that's bigger'n a steam enjine and a fellar drivin' it thet's dressed up like a circus lady") was standing in the path wildly gesticulating with one hand to attract Nancy's attention and with the other clapped over his mouth to suppress the laughter that was plainly shaking his entire body.
Nancy and Peter turned to see what had so convulsed him. Up the road toward the gate were approaching three separate groups of women, all coming hurriedly, breathlessly, with a great deal of chatter and fussing with hats and gloves.
Mrs. Maria Slade, behind her blind had seen the purple and cream-colored car. So had Miss Merry, across the street; so had a dozen others from behind their entrenchments. Simultaneously, in as many hearts, the urge of curiosity conquered resentment.
"It'll only take me half a minit to slip on my green dress," Mrs. Slade had called to Miss Merry. "Wait fer me!"
Mrs. Brown, next door, had heard her.
"I'll come along, too," she called out.
All through the street there was a stirring behind closed blinds, a hurried taking down of the Sunday-best and a feverish changing of shoes and searching for gloves.
"It's all very well for Sarah Eaton to tell us to show our pride," Mrs. Dexter had confided to Mrs. Hill, "but I just said to myself nobody done nothing to hurt me, I was goin' to see for myself what Sabriny Leavitt was havin' up there! Did you see that automobile? Purple, as I live. My, ain't this sun hot! I've got to go slower or I'll have a stroke."
"Every blessed woman in Freedom," cried Peter Hyde.
"Oh, how funny! Look at them coming. They saw the purple car. Peter, the party is a success! Aunt Sabrina will never know. Watch me now!" With a saucy tilt of her chin Nancy stepped down the path to greet the first of the late comers.
"So glad you have come," she murmured prettily, clasping Mrs. Slade's warm hand. "Do come under the trees where it is cool. I am so sorry you hurried."
In her most gracious manner Nancy presented each one in turn to Mr. Theodore Hoffman, of New York, then carried them off to Miss Milly.
"—and Miss Hopworth! But of course you know Miss Hopworth. Doesn't Nonie look darling to-day?" she would say to each one, with wicked intent.
Then a sudden inspiration seized her. "Nonie should play one of her pretend games for the master and their guests," she whispered excitedly to Aunt Milly and Nonie and Peter Hyde.
"Wheel Aunt Milly's chair back toward those bushes—that'll be the stage. Now, Nonie, play your best! Perhaps—perhaps the fairy godmother is here."
After a few moments of excited consultation Peter Hyde announced in a loud tone that, for the entertainment of the guests, a fairy fantasy, "The Visit of the Moon-Queen," would be presented by Miss Nonie Hopworth.
"Well, I swun, with folks here from N'York, encouragin' that girl to act her nonsense," murmured Mrs. Sniggs to a neighbor.
But the man-from-New York's face brightened expectantly when Nancy waved her hand out over their heads as though to touch them all with a fairy wand. "Let my magic give you fairy eyes so that you may see that this is not the garden of Happy House but a woodland, peopled by fairy creatures! If you will listen very hard, you will hear them stirring. It is the Flowers. They come to the Woodland to make it ready for the Moon-Queen who will visit them this night!"
Down through the trees danced Nonie, bare-footed, arms outflung, as though she was, indeed, joyously preparing for the triumphal coming of a Queen. In turn she characterized the Daisy, the Hollyhock, the Buttercup and the Rose—then became the good old Dandelion.
"Lily, you are so lazy," the Dandelion sternly admonished her fair sister. "Don't you know the Queen likes tidy gardens when she comes here? And see the muss Buttercup has left around. Oh, dearie me, children will be children and I'll be so glad when Buttercup and Daffy-down-dilly grow up! Daisy, it isn't lady-like to complain that your dress is so plain! I am sure the Queen will think you look very well, if your petals are clean. It's what you do, anyway, and not what you wear!"
Nancy saw Peter Hyde's laughing face drop suddenly between his arms.
With quaint, childish phrasing and with dancing steps Nonie interpreted her story to her audience. When each flower had done its part toward preparing the Garden for the coming of the Queen, Nonie, as the old Dandelion, admonished them to sit very still, "so as not to muss their dresses," and then disappeared only to appear again as the stately Queen. Like a peacock, holding an imaginary train in one hand, Nonie strutted across the grass, now nodding graciously to right and left, now haughtily chiding imaginary moonbeams who accompanied her. Then—the Queen supposedly in state upon her throne—Nonie was again the Dandelion, leading forward her sister flowers to pay court to their Queen.
Suddenly (from the direction of Aunt Milly's chair) came a slow, sorrowful voice that the Flowers (or at least Dandelion) lamented loudly as Trouble. The Flowers were sadly dismayed that Trouble should have intruded upon this festive gathering in honor of the Moon-Queen! But the Moon-Queen implored them "not to worry a bit."
"I know all about Trouble and the harm she does! I see everything as I ride through the sky. But, never fear, we will find a way to get rid of her!" The Queen threw out her hand with an imperial gesture. "Summon Youth!"
Nancy, as Youth, trying very hard not to giggle, answered the summons. In her pink dress, a flush dying her tanned cheeks, her eyes alight with life, she was so much the embodiment of joyous, appealing youth that Peter Hyde, absorbedly watching, felt a catch at his heart.
Gravely the Moon-Queen touched Youth with her magic wand.
"Go out into the world and drive Trouble away! I will give you fairy presents to help you in your fight. This," holding out a flower, "is a magic flower. If you wear it all the time you'll remember that there's always flowers and birds and nice things to make people happy. And here's a fairy leaf. If you wave that in people's faces they'll all be kind and never be cross to little children or animals or old people. And here is a fairy ring," placing a twisted dandelion stem in Youth's hand, "that'll make you love everybody and everybody love you. And here is a magic coat," putting Aunt Milly's shawl over Youth's arm, "when you wear it you'll always do beautiful things and you'll always seem beautiful and never grow old or ugly!"
Then the Flowers, at the Queen's bidding, danced wildly about Youth to show their joy at her coming—at least Nonie danced wildly, with utter abandon. Forgetting her audience, she had thrown herself heart and soul into the "game."
Again the Queen, she bade the pretty Rose step forward and take Youth by the hand and "walk along with her so that she'll see everything through your spectacles. I bid all adieu!"
After one sweeping bow Nonie had to unceremoniously leave the poor Moon-Queen in order to become the joyous Rose to whom had been allotted the pleasant task of accompanying Youth through her life's journey. She caught Youth by the hand and together, amid loud applause, led mainly by Webb and Peter Hyde, they danced away through the trees and shrubbery to the kitchen garden beyond.
"Author! Author!" came from Peter Hyde's corner and brought Nancy and Nonie, flushed by their play, back to the gathering under the trees.
"I'm blessed if I could make head'nor tail out of any of it, but did you see, Mary Sniggs, the way thet N'York man watched the two of them galivantin'?"
Mrs. Sniggs discreetly snorted into her handkerchief. "That kind o' play-actin' may be very well for Sabriny Leavitt's niece, but I don' believe it'll do any girl any good that's gotta earn her livin'!"
Nancy, still breathless, found Peter Hyde at her side. There was an earnestness in the gaze he kept fixed upon her that brought an added color to her cheeks.
"Was it dreadfully silly, Peter? I couldn't resist it. Could you see their faces when they watched Nonie?"
"I could only see you! I feel as though fairies had been here!"
"Peter—you're silly," rebuked Nancy. "Shall I give you one of my fairy gifts? The flower—or the leaf——"
"I want the ring," he answered with provoking gravity.
"There—you shall have it! Now you will love everybody and everybody will love you," Nancy laughed, placing the dandelion stem in his outstretched hand.
She was tremendously glad that at that moment Theodore Hoffman joined them—Peter Hyde had so seriously patted the pocket into which he had placed the ring—as though he really believed it could work its magic! She turned eagerly to the master but he spoke first.
"Tell me—I am haunted by a thousand memories—who in the world is this strange little creature?"
Nancy told the master of Nonie, of that first night in the orchard, of her strange gift of imagination, of her "pretend" games by which she had persistently gilded over the very rough spots of a sordid, lonely life.
"She is always reaching out for the spirit of the things about her and trying to make each her own!"
"She is like a flower that has grown up among weeds," muttered the great man, his thoughts far away, a frown wrinkling his brow. "Sometimes, it is in such places that we find the greatest gifts. I wonder," he gave a little start, as though bringing himself, with an effort, back to the garden. "It's always been a hobby of mine, hunting around in queer places for something I can give to my Art. Perhaps you don't understand me, but, wherever I am, I am watching, watching all the time, for a promise of talent that, if properly cultivated and trained, will give something to the greatest of the Arts—dramatic expression."
Thrilled, Nancy sat tongue-tied, afraid to speak. He went on: "I said I was haunted—years ago I ran across another child, not unlike this one. She gave rare promise of genius. I put her in my school. I had her there several years. I looked for a great deal from her. But—she failed me."
"Did she—die?"
The master laughed. "No, she loved a man more than she did her art. I was jealous—unreasonable. I let her go away—heard nothing more of her. I suppose she married. She's probably fat now, with a half-dozen squalling babies. Yes, I was jealous—I wanted to give her to my art, soul and body—as a fanatic would make his offering to his gods. And this child has made me think of her again. It has been a most interesting hour, Miss Leavitt. You say the child's head is full of this sort of thing? H-mm."
Now the garden was filled with a babble of voices intermingled with the clinking of spoons and dishes. Someone had overheard the great man's praise of Nonie's "play-actin'," and the word spread quickly. Mrs. Brown allowed it was "just spooky the way that child could make you think she was what she wasn't" and Mrs. Slade's sister's sister-in-law had seen Maude Adams in a play where she'd "pretended something all the time—something 'bout Cinderella, and like as not it might have been 'bout fairies, too." Under the stimulation of iced tea and cakes and caramel ice cream, served from delicate china, praise for Nonie grew and the fairy leaf that Youth carried, so that "people would be kind," began to work its magic in the garden.
It was well toward sunset when the last guest departed. Nancy, standing in the doorway with the empty house behind her, and before her the deserted garden, with its chairs and tables in crazy disarray, sent a wild little prayer down the road after the purple automobile that had whirled away carrying the great master and her poor little play.
"Please think it's good! I worked so hard."
As her eye caught the gleam of gabled housetops through the trees Nancy suddenly pictured how, at that very moment, every home in Freedom was echoing with the story of the party.
It had been a success! All Freedom—through the women's eyes—had been there to see precious Aunt Milly; now they knew that Happy House was a happy house. And, wonder of wonders, she had heard Mrs. Sniggs, in a most friendly way, ask Liz Hopworth to drop in and show her how she made her "plum jell."
Suddenly Nancy seemed to hear Peter Hyde saying: "I didn't see anything but you!" How silly he'd been—putting that absurd dandelion stem into his pocket, as though it really had some magic! Then, with quite unaccountable haste, as though to run away from her own meditations, Nancy rushed to the kitchen and begged B'lindy to let her help "clear up."