Elsie on the Hudson

by Martha Finley

CHAPTER XII.

"I wonder if Walter won't be joining us soon?" Lucilla remarked to her father as they walked the deck together the next morning.

"Probably. I should not be surprised to see him at any time," the captain said in reply. "I have sent in for the early mail, and—why here comes the boat now; and see who are in it!"

"Walter and Evelyn! Oh, how glad I am! I don't know how often I have wished she was with us."

"I knew you did, and that you like pleasant surprises, so decided to let this be one."

The boat was already alongside of the yacht, and the next moment its passengers were on deck, the two girls hugging and kissing each other and laughing with delight.

"Now, isn't it my turn, Eva?" queried the captain as they released each other. "Surely I may claim the privilege, since a year or two ago you and I agreed to be brother and sister to each other."

"Yes, sir," laughed Evelyn, making no effort to escape the offered caress.

"And, Lu, as I'm your father's brother I suppose you and I may exchange the same sort of greeting," laughed Walter, giving it as he spoke.

"Well, you have helped yourself; but I do not see any exchange about it," laughed Lucilla; "but, considering your youth, I excuse you for this once."

"As I do also," said the captain. "It isn't every young man I should allow to kiss my daughter; but youth and relationship may claim privileges. Lu, show Eva to her stateroom and see that she has whatever she wants. Walter, the one you occupied last is vacant, and you are welcome to take possession of it again."

"Thank you; I shall be glad to do so," returned Walter, following the girls down the companion-way.

"Quite a mail, I think, this morning, sir," remarked a sailor, handing the captain the mail bag.

Captain Raymond looked over the contents, and found, besides his own, one or more letters for each of his passengers. It was nearing the breakfast hour, and he distributed the letters after all had taken their places at the table.

They were a bright and cheerful party, everyone rejoicing in the arrival of Eva and Walter, the latter of whom had been spending some weeks among the Adirondacks with college-mates, then had joined Evelyn shortly before the last of the family left Crag Cottage, and undertaken to see her safely to the Dolphin on Lake Erie.

"As I expected, I am summoned home," said Percy Landreth, looking up from a letter he was reading; "and I am bidden to bring you all with me, if I can by any means persuade you to take the trip. I wish you would all accept the invitation. I can assure you that everything possible will be done to prove that we esteem you the most welcome and honored of guests. Cousin Elsie, surely you and Aunt Annis will not think of refusing to spend with us at least a small portion of the time you have allotted for your summer vacation?"

"Certainly I must go with you," said Annis; "those relations are too near and dear to be neglected. My husband will go with me, I know; and you too, Cousin Elsie, will you not?"

"I feel strongly inclined to do so," returned Mrs. Travilla, "and to take the children and grandchildren with me. What do you say to it, captain?"

"It seems to me, mother, that for all of us to go would make a rather large party for our friends to entertain, hospitable as I know them to be," he replied. "Also, there are reasons why I think it would be well for me to remain here on the yacht, keeping Eva, Lu, and Grace for my companions. I flatter myself that I shall be able to give them a pleasant time during the week or two that the rest of you may be absent."

"And you will let me help you in that, sir?" Walter said inquiringly.

"No; my idea was to commit your mother and my wife and children to your care—yours and Cousin Ronald's. He must not have too much of that put upon him."

"Seeing he has grown too auld to be trusted wi' wark in that line, eh, captain?" remarked Mr. Lilburn in a tone of inquiry.

"Old enough to reasonably expect to be allowed to take his ease, and let women and children be cared for by younger men," returned the captain pleasantly.

"Such as I, for instance," laughed Walter. "Mother, dear, I hope you feel willing to trust me; and that Vi does also."

"My dear boy, I am entirely willing to trust you to do anything in your power for me and any of our dear ones," Grandma Elsie answered with a loving look and smile into her son's eyes.

"And on the journey to Pleasant Plains I shall certainly do my best for you all, Cousin Elsie," said Percy. "But, captain, surely the yacht could do without her owner and his oversight for a fortnight or so. And we can find room for you all; there are several families of us, you must remember, and each of our homes has at least one guest room."

"And you are all very hospitable, I know," returned the captain pleasantly. "Perhaps at some other time I may put that to the proof, but there are reasons why it does not seem quite advisable to do so now." The tone of the last words was so decided that Percy did not think it advisable to urge the matter any further, and in a few minutes it was settled that the captain's plan in regard to who should compose the party to go to Pleasant Plains, and who the one to remain on the yacht, should be carried out.

Evidently the young girls were well satisfied with the decision. They had had enough travel by rail for the present, and life on the Dolphin would be decidedly restful and enjoyable, for they were delightful companions, the captain was the best and kindest of protectors and providers, and there was abundance of interesting reading matter at hand in the shape of books and periodicals.

Percy was much disappointed, but did his best to conceal it, which was the easier because the others were much taken up with the necessarily hasty preparations for the little trip.

"I don't want to go without my papa," Ned said stoutly at first.

"But papa thinks he can't go, and it is for only a little while, you know," reasoned his mother. "We expect to come back to papa and sisters in a few days."

"But, mamma, why don't you and I stay with him? It's nice here on our yacht and going about to new places 'most every day."

"So it is, son, but it will be pleasant to see those relatives who have invited us to their homes, and to refuse to accept their invitation would not seem kind."

"But papa does refuse."

"Yes; he must have some good reason which he has not told us."

"Papa is going to take care of the yacht, and of Eva and our sisters," said Elsie, joining in the talk.

They were in their stateroom, Violet putting together such articles of clothing as she thought best to take with them on their little trip.

"But who'll take care of us?" demanded Ned.

"Uncle Walter, Cousin Ronald, and Cousin Percy. I'd rather have papa than all of them put together, but our Heavenly Father will take care of us, and that is better still."

"Yes, daughter; He will take the best of care of all who put their trust in him; and without his help no earthly creature can keep you from harm," said their father's voice close at hand; and, looking round, they saw him standing in the doorway.

"Yes, papa; and I'm so glad to know it," responded Elsie. "But I do wish you were going along with us to visit those cousins."

"As I do, my dear," said Violet.

"Thank you. I should like it myself, but for certain reasons it seems advisable and best for me to stay behind. Vi, my dear, let me do that packing for you."

The train they had decided to take left early in the afternoon, and they were busy with their preparations until almost the last moment; then they bade the young girls a hasty good-by and left them on the deck, where the captain presently rejoined them, after seeing the departing ones safely on the train and watching it for a moment as it sped rapidly on its way.

"And they are off, are they, father? Well, I hope they will all enjoy themselves greatly, but I am glad we are left here with you," Lucilla said as he rejoined their little group.

"Yes, I saw them off. I hope their visit will prove very enjoyable to them all, and that our stay here will be equally enjoyable to us."

"That is what we are all anticipating, captain," said Evelyn. "I don't know where in the world I should rather pass the next few weeks than on the Dolphin with you and these dear girls for company."

"That is pleasant news for us," he returned in kindly tones. "And now what can I do for your entertainment? I am ready to consider suggestions from each of you."

"Don't you think we should take Eva to visit the different islands in this group, papa?" queried Grace.

"Certainly; if she would like to go."

"Very much indeed," said Eva; "I know I shall enjoy going any- and every-where that you may be pleased to take me, or just staying on the yacht lying in one place, if that suits the rest of you."

"We will try that occasionally by way of variety," the captain said with a smile. "Shall we not do that for the rest of this day,—as it is now almost dinner time,—then start off for some other point shortly after breakfast to-morrow morning?"

"Oh, yes, sir!" they all exclaimed; Grace adding, "And, papa, won't you take us to Gibraltar? It is so picturesque that I think it is worth visiting several times."

"Yes, and so are some of the other islands. We will visit any or all of them as many times as you wish."

"Well," said Lucilla, "with taking those little trips now and then, and having books, work,—needlework I mean,—games, and music, I think it will be strange should we find time hang heavy on our hands."

"Yes, indeed," said Evelyn with a sigh of contentment; "I am not in the least afraid of any such calamity."

They talked on, planning various little excursions to one and another of the islands and different points of interest upon the mainland, till summoned to their meal.

"It seems a trifle lonely," Grace remarked as they took their seats about the table.

"Yes," said her father, "but considering how much our absentees are probably enjoying themselves, we won't mind that for a few days."

"Indeed," said Lucilla, "though I shall be glad to see them come back, I think it is really quite delightful to have papa all to ourselves for a few days."

"And for papa to have these young girls all to himself, eh?" laughed the captain. "Well, I won't deny it; and I fully expect the girls to make their companionship quite delightful to me."

"I think we will all do our best in that line," said Evelyn. "It would be strange indeed if we didn't, when you are so very good and kind to us."

"No better, I think, than almost any other gentleman would be in my place," he returned pleasantly. "Now let me help you to some of this fowl. I hope to see you all do full justice to what is set before you."

"If we don't, it will not be the fault of the fare, I am sure," said Evelyn. "Judging by the meals I have taken on board of this vessel, she must have both a good caterer and an excellent cook."

"We have both," said Lucilla emphatically.

"Yes," said Grace. "I wish we could share this dinner with our dear folks who left us a while ago; though perhaps they are getting just as good a meal at Pleasant Plains."

"Yes," said her father, "if all has gone well with them and their train, they are there by this time; and, from what I have heard of the housekeeping of the relatives there, I presume they have been, or will be, set down to as good a meal as this."

"Oh, yes, of course," said Grace; "and that was a very foolish wish of mine. Papa, how shall we spend this evening?"

"I leave that to the decision of my daughters and their guest," he replied. "I shall be happy to do my best to entertain you in any way that may suit your inclinations."

"What may be yours, Eva? Please tell us," said Lucilla.

"I hardly know what to choose," said Evelyn. "Several delightful ways of passing the time have been already spoken of, and I should enjoy any one of them. I hope you will give us some of your music; and if the captain feels inclined to spin us one of his sailor yarns, that would be enjoyable; and I presume a promenade on the deck would be good exercise, helping us to sleep well afterward."

"A very good programme," remarked the captain as she concluded. "I think we will carry it out."

They did so, and, when about to separate for the night, agreed it had been a success, the time having passed very pleasantly.

The next morning found them all in good health and spirits, and the day was spent in little excursions among the islands. The evening brought a mail in which was a letter from Violet to her husband, telling of the safe arrival of her mother, herself, and the other members of their party at their destination, the warm welcome they had received, and the prospect that the few days of their proposed sojourn among the relatives of Pleasant Plains would be passed most agreeably. "There is only one drawback to my enjoyment," she added; "I cannot feel quite content without my husband; and I miss the dear girls too. So I am glad this visit is to be but a short one."

The captain read the greater part of the letter aloud to Eva and his daughters.

"I too am glad their visit is to be short," remarked Grace as he finished, "for I don't like to be without them, though we are having a very delightful time here with our dear, kind father to take care of us and find so many pleasant amusements for us."

"Ah!" he said with a smile. "Where would you like to go to-morrow?"

They discussed the question for a while, and at length decided to visit some of the islands that had been neglected thus far. Then they went on to plan an outing for each weekday of the time they expected the rest of their party to be absent. These they carried out successfully; and each day's mail brought them a graphic report from Violet's pen of the doings among their friends and relatives in Pleasant Plains.

Several family parties were gotten up for their entertainment, and at one of them Cousin Ronald, at Walter's urgent request, exercised his skill in ventriloquism, to the great surprise and delight of the younger folk.

They were quite a large company, assembled in the parlors of Dr. Landreth's house, just after leaving the tea-table. Presently a buzzing bee seemed to be flying about among them, now circling around the head of one person and now flying above that of another. They involuntarily tried to dodge it, and sent searching glances here and there in the vain effort to see just what and where it was. It could not be seen. Presently it was no longer heard, and someone said, "We are rid of it, I think; it seems to have gone out of the window."

But the words were scarcely spoken when there was a scream from the porch, "Oh, I'm stung! and the bee's on me yet! Somebody come and take it off!"

At that the doctor, Walter, and Percy rushed out in response to the entreaty. But the bee's victim seemed to have vanished with wonderful celerity. The porch was entirely deserted.

"Gone! gone already! who can she have been?" exclaimed Percy, glancing about in great surprise.

"I cannot imagine," said the doctor; then catching sight of Walter's face, which told of suppressed mirthfulness, a sudden recollection came to him; and he added, "Ah, I think I understand it," turned, and went back into the parlor.

"Who was it?" asked several voices.

"Nobody, apparently," answered the doctor with a smile; and Percy added, "She had strangely disappeared."

"Well," said a rough voice, seemingly coming from the hall, "if I was a doctor, and a poor woman got badly stung right here in my own house, d'ye think I wouldn't do something fur her?"

"Bring her in here, and I will do what I can for her," replied the doctor.

"Hello here, Bet!" called the voice; "I say, go right along in thar and see what he'll do fur ye."

"What'll he do? p'raps hurt me worse than the bee has?" snarled a sharp, disagreeable voice. "I guess I won't resk it."

"All right then, Bet, let's go," said the other voice; "'taint our way to stay long where we git nothin' but stings."

A sound as of shuffling footsteps followed, then all was still.

Some of the children and young people ran to the door and windows, hoping to catch sight of the strange couple, but were surprised that they could see nothing of them.

But the bee seemed to have come in again and to be buzzing all about the room—now up near the ceiling, now down about the ears of one and another of the company. There were dodgings and curious glances here and there, exclamations of surprise that the creature was not to be seen as well as heard, till their attention was taken from it by the furious barking of a dog, seemingly on the porch, and mingled with it screams of pain and terror in a childish voice; cries of "Oh, take him off! he's biting me! Oh, oh, he'll kill me! Oh, come quick, somebody, before he kills me!"

Several of the gentlemen present sprang up and rushed out to the rescue, but found all quiet on the porch and neither child nor dog in sight.

For a moment they looked at each other in surprise and perplexity, then a sudden recollection of Cousin Ronald's powers came to one and another, a little amused laugh was exchanged, and they returned to the parlor, looking very grave and as much mystified as even the youngest present.

"Why, who was it? and where did she go to?" asked one of the little girls.

"She was not to be found; nor was the dog," replied Percy. "They seem to have got away very quickly."

"Well, I wish I knew who she was, and whether the dog is after her yet," said Don, his younger brother. "I think I'll go out to the street and see if they are anywhere in sight."

"'Tisn't worth while, little chap; you'll not find 'em," said a voice from the hall which sounded very much like the one that had spoken first.

"Is it your doing? did you bring that dog here?" asked the lad, jumping up and going toward the door.

"Yes," said the voice; "but you needn't worry; she wasn't hurt, though she did do sich tall screamin'. That was jist fer fun and to scare you folks."

"Who are you, anyhow?" asked Don; "and why don't you show yourself?
You neither act nor talk like a gentleman."

"Don't I?" asked the voice, ending with a coarse laugh.

"I wouldn't go out there if I were you, little boy; that fellow might do you some harm," said a pleasant voice that seemed to come from a far corner of the room.

Don turned to see who was the speaker, but there was no stranger to be seen, and the voice had certainly not been a familiar one.

"Why," exclaimed the little fellow, "who said that? What's the matter here to-night, that we hear so many folks that we can't see?"

As he spoke, a low whine, that sounded as if made by a young puppy, seemed to come from his pocket. With a startled jump and exclamation, "Oh, how did it get in there?" he clapped his hand upon his pocket. "Why—why, it isn't there! Where is it?" he cried, turning round and round, looking down at his feet, then farther away under chairs and tables. "I can't find it," he said presently, looking much bewildered. "Grandpa, I never saw such things happen in your house before—no, nor anywhere else. What's the matter with me? am I going blind?"

"No, my boy," said the doctor, "we all seem to be as blind as yourself—hearing people talk but not able to see them."

"None so blind as those that won't see," remarked the voice that had spoken last, but this time coming apparently from the doorway. "Here I am, and you are welcome to look at me as closely as you please."

A sudden fierce bark from their very midst seemed to answer her. It was so sudden and sharp that everyone started, and some of the children screamed.

"Nero, be quiet, sir, and walk right out here," said the voice from the hall, and it was answered by a low growl; then all was silent.

"Why, where did he go? and why couldn't we see him?" asked one of the little ones.

"Perhaps we might if we knew where to look and what to look for," said
Violet with a smiling glance at Cousin Ronald.

"But where's that little pup that was in my pocket?" cried Don, as if with sudden recollection, and glancing about the floor. "I can't see how in the world he got there, nor how he got out again."

Just as he finished his sentence the puppy's whine was heard, seeming to come from behind the large armchair in which Cousin Ronald was seated.

"There he is now!" cried Don. "I wish he'd come out of that corner and let us all see him."

"Perhaps he will if you invite him," said the old gentleman, rising and pushing his chair a little to one side.

Don made haste to look behind it. "Why, there's nothing there!" he cried. "What does go with the little scamp?"

"Perhaps he's afraid of you, Don, so gets out of sight as fast as possible," said Percy.

"Then why did he get in my pocket?" asked Don; then added quickly, "But maybe he wasn't there, for I couldn't find him, though I clapped my hand on it the instant I heard his whine." Just then the whine, followed by a little bark, seemed to come from the farther side of the room, and the children hurried over there to make a vain search for the strangely invisible puppy.

"Where did it go to?" they asked. "How could it get away so fast? and without anybody seeing it?"

"Well, it isn't here, that's certain," said one. "Let's look in the hall."

They rushed out there, then out to the porch, looking searchingly about everywhere, but finding nothing.

"Oh, it must have got away into the grounds," cried one. "Let's look there," and they ran down the path to the gate, off across and around the grounds—some in one direction, some in another. But it took only a few minutes to satisfy them that no little dog was there; and they trooped back to the house to report their inability to find it.

They were all talking at once, discussing their failure in eager, excited tones, when again that strange, gruff voice was heard in the hall.

"Say, youngsters, what have you done with my little dog? He's of fine stock, and if you don't hand him over right away—why, I'll know the reason why, and it won't be good fur ye, I can tell ye."

"We didn't take him," answered Don; "we've never seen him at all—no, not one of us; and if we had, we wouldn't have done him a bit of harm."

Just as Don pronounced the last word, a shrill little bark sounded out from behind Cousin Ronald's chair.

"Why, there he is now!" exclaimed Don, hurrying to the spot. "Why, no, he isn't! How does he get away so fast?"

"He seems to be an invisible dog, Don," said his brother Percy; "and, if I were you, I wouldn't let him trouble me any more."

"No; but I've set out to find him, and I don't mean to give it up," replied the little fellow.

"That's right, Don," laughed his father. "I'm pleased to see that you are not easily discouraged."

"But he might as well be, for there's no dog thar," said the voice from the hall. "He's a plucky little feller, but he'll not find that thar dog if he looks all night."

"I guess I'll find you then," said Don, running to the door and looking searchingly about the hall. "Well, it's the queerest thing!" he exclaimed. "There's nobody here—nobody at all!"

"Is the boy blind, that he goes right past a body and never sees him?" asked the voice; and Don turned quickly to see the speaker, who seemed close behind him. But no one was there, and Don looked really frightened. Cousin Ronald noticed it, and said in kindly tones, "Don't be scared, sonny, it was I who spoke; and I wouldn't harm you for all I am worth."

"You, sir?" said Don, looking utterly astonished. "How could it be you? for the fellow was over here, and you are over there."

"No; I only made it sound so," Mr. Lilburn said with an amused laugh; "and I must confess that I have been doing all this screaming, scolding, and barking just to make a bit of fun for you all."

At that the children crowded around the old gentleman, eagerly asking how he did it and what else he could do.

"I can hardly tell you how," he said, "but perhaps I can show some other specimens of my work." He was silent for a moment, seemingly thinking. Then a loud, rough voice said: "Hello there, youngsters, what are you bothering with that stupid old fellow for? Why don't you leave him and go off to your sports? It would be a great deal more fun."

The children turned toward the place from which the voice seemed to come, but saw no one. They were surprised at first, laughed, asking, "Was that you, Uncle Ronald?"

"Nobody else," he said with a smile.

"Oh, hark! there's music!" cried one of the little girls; and all listened in silence.

"It is a bagpipe, playing a Scotch air," said Percy, who was standing near their little group.

"What queer music!" said one of the little girls when it had ceased; "but I like it. Please, Uncle Ronald, make some more."

Several tunes followed, and then the children were told they had monopolized their Uncle Ronald long enough and must leave him to the older people for a while.

"But you'll do some more for us some other time, won't you, Uncle Ronald?" asked one of the little girls as they reluctantly withdrew from his immediate neighborhood.

"Yes, little dear, I will," he answered kindly.

And he did entertain them in the same way a number of times during his short stay in their town.