“Oh! my dear brother, what do you mean?” cried Aunt Lucretia, eagerly.
“I mean that I set old Ephraim Cook to the task. He’s already down at Annapolis, fairly burrowing in archives and genealogies, and the skeleton closets of all our old Maryland families. It’s the most congenial task he ever undertook in all his generally-useful life; for back here in ‘Markland’ he’s long ago prepared a history of the peninsula that deserve publishing. He can trace every Bluenose household to its very beginning, and claims his own came to this side the sea in the Mayflower. That’s one reason he wants Melvin, the last of his race, to make a name for it. Trust me he’ll forage for our Dorothy better than I could myself; but he isn’t to disturb us with letters of theories or ‘maybes.’ When he gets his facts—hurrah for the dénoûment! Now, dear, to your rest. The burdens of a peacemaker rest on your shoulders but—you’ll make and keep the peace. Good night.”
After all, when the sun rose on the following morning and this oddly assorted traveling party met to discuss the day’s plans, each was so rested and refreshed that an abnormal amiability pervaded the whole group.
“What would you like to do best?” “Oh, no! You say!” “I’m sure whatever the rest propose will be agreeable to me in the way of sight-seeing.” “Or even staying quietly at the hotel and just enjoying the outlook on the sea.”
Such were the remarks exchanged and with such suavity of manner that Molly clapped her hands and cried:
“I declare, you’re all too sweet to be wholesome! And it happens that I know what I want to do, even if you don’t. Let’s go away down to the end, I mean the beginning, of the town where they are curing fish. I saw them from the car window, and even then they were so interesting. I mean the fish were. Or—or the things where they fixed them. And, beg pardon, Mrs. Stark, even if you looked at that water all day long you couldn’t make it into a ‘sea.’ It’s only a Basin, the fag end of Annapolis Basin. Yonder, where there are so many sails and steamers, is the Bay of Fundy, and to get to the really truly sea you must go beyond that. The reason I’m so wise, if you want to know, is that I’ve been here twenty-four hours longer than you and I improved my time by asking questions.”
With that the little maid swept her new acquaintance a courtesy and smiled so sweetly that any presumption on her girlish part was readily forgiven. Besides she was a Breckenridge; and though Mrs. Stark had now resolved to be as “democratic” as her new friends were it was easier resolved than practiced. If it had been Dorothy who ventured to plan for her elders her suggestions would have been coolly ignored.
The Judge drew near in time to hear the end of the talk and added:
“That is a sight we won’t meet elsewhere in the same proportion as here. Also, the walk will do us good, and we shall pass the postoffice on our way. I like going for my own mail to the ‘general delivery’ better than having it sent to the hotel. I like the mingling with the eager crowd that waits before the little window to ask: ‘Anything for me?’ I like to watch the faces of the people when they open their letters. One can guess the ‘home’ ones by the expression of joy and the merely friendly by the indifference. I like—”
“Dear Schuyler, spare us! If there’s anything upon earth you don’t like that’s even half-way interesting I can’t guess it.” Then turning to Mrs. Stark, Mrs. Hungerford added: “Brother is like a boy when he gets leave of absence, this way. Suppose you walk along with him and find out if there is anything he doesn’t like along the way.”