Chapter 24

There was a full breakfast table the next morning, for the young visitors determined to fall into the ways of the family as much as possible, so decided to be "early birds" along with the rest.

During the meal, Mr. McDonald suggested the various ways they might pass the day enjoyably; but when he had exhausted the resources of pleasure that occurred to his mind, Dexie smilingly said,

"You are very kind, Mr. McDonald, to place so many pleasures within our reach, but it would not be right to spend the whole day in that way."

"What way would you prefer to pass the day?" said Lizzie, with a smile.

"Well, first, I should like to help wash the dishes, then I should like to be set to work at anything else that I can do in a passable manner."

"Dear me! is that what you call enjoying yourself, Miss Dexie?" said Maggie. "I fancy you would not like dish-washing, if you had to do it all the time."

"Well, perhaps a full day's task of dish-washing would be rather tedious," said Dexie, laughing; "but I was only bidding for the breakfast dishes, you know."

"But there is no need to trouble yourselves about anything," said Mrs. McDonald. "Enjoy yourselves all you can while you are here; Phebe can manage the work nicely. Put on your hats, and have a walk through the fields; it will give you a fine appetite for your dinner."

"But I have a remarkable appetite already, Mrs. McDonald; I shall be alarmed if it increases much more," was the smiling reply, "and you know the Bible says, 'If one will not work, neither should he eat,' or words to that effect, so you must have pity on me, and not keep me idle. Lancy, your appetite is wonderful too, for that is your second cup of coffee; you had better hunt up some work also," she laughingly added.

"I will give him some now," said Lizzie. "Before the tide comes in he can go down to the boat-house and get out the boat. We want to be off by ten o'clock; the tide will be about right then, and since you are so anxious for work, Miss Dexie, you may help Maggie pack the baskets. I hope, Gertrude, you won't ask for something to do, for I want you to take Miss Gurney around, and show her the poultry yard. Mother will be too busy to protect her from our feathered enemies."

"Enemies! are they very savage?" Elsie asked in alarm.

"No; the trouble is in the opposite direction," said Maggie. "The creatures are that tame they are quite a nuisance; you can scarcely step for them. The greedy things look for something to eat from everybody who ventures inside the yard, and will fly on your shoulders for the first chance at the pan. Gertrude knows how to protect herself, so you can put yourself under her care with safety."

How pleasant it is when one goes visiting to feel as if you are one of the family; but the expression "Making yourself at home" is more often made than really experienced. While at the farmhouse our young people did truly realize the feeling.

It would take too long to tell of the many excursions by water, and drives by land, that were enjoyed daily, but the vicinity for miles around was thoroughly explored. Every night Gertrude would say she ought to return home, but the next day would seem so full of pleasure that it seemed a pity to miss it.

One evening, when they were seated and idly swinging among the boughs of a low-limbed tree that stood near the house--a favorite spot with the girls--Dexie suddenly remarked,

"Lancy, I am just hungry for a 'sing;' do start up something."

"Bless you for the thought," Lancy replied, from a distant limb. "I have been wondering these few days back what it was I was missing. Take the first choice yourself, and start away."

But they found it was easier to start the singing than it was to end it, for they soon had all the household within hearing distance, and "just one more" was asked for from so many different quarters that their song-hunger was fully satisfied before they were allowed to stop.

They seemed to sing like the birds, from "lightness of heart, and very joy of living." After a few moments' silence, a bird-song was whistled by the "mates in the tree," eliciting strong words of praise, as well as surprise, from the delighted listeners.

"Oh, that's nothing to what we have to endure at home," said Elsie. "Those two are always hooting away like a pair of owls. It is a wonder their throats are not split before this. I almost hope that the piano at home will be mouldy when we get back."

"We will soon knock the mould out of it, hey, Dexie?" Lancy laughingly replied, as he lifted his mate down from her perch.

"Oh, how I should love to have a piano, and be able to play on it," said Maggie, with a long-drawn sigh. "Perhaps we will have one sometime."

"Why, Maggie, how can you say such a thing? A deep sorrow comes before that joy; and how can you wish for it?" was the stern reproof of her sister.

"Oh, dear! what have I said! I forgot that for the moment!" and there was such a tone of regret in her words that Dexie's eyes asked an explanation.

"We can't have a piano while the grandmother is alive. She thinks that all music, except the bagpipes, perhaps, is positively wicked; so we try not to think about it. We spoke about it to father once, and he felt so badly that he could not please us and the grandmother too. Of course she comes first; but he has put the money in the bank to buy an instrument--sometime. I hate to think about it, though I long for it more than I can tell. It makes me feel as if I was such a wicked creature; for just think of wishing for a thing that can only be had over the grandmother's coffin! Oh, dear! I wish I had never heard the sound of music!" and to the surprise and dismay of the little group she burst into tears.

"Oh, do forgive me! I am to blame for this, I fear," said Dexie, her face showing her distress. "I did not know--"

"Don't think of such a thing, Miss Dexie," said Lizzie, putting her arm around her. "It was not your fault; Maggie has her cry over this same thing every few weeks, and feels the better for it, too, I believe. We have many pleasures that few girls on a farm ever think of, and we ought to be content. But I really do believe that if the grandmother could walk around the house, and should come across the books and other things that we girls have brought into it since she was confined to her room, she would die with the shock. She thinks that everything remains about the same as it was in her day, and we are careful not to disturb her opinion; for in this case a little deceit seems wise, or, at least, necessary."

In a few minutes the sunshine again appeared on Maggie's face; but the feeling that was brought out by the sudden tears seemed to draw Dexie nearer to this young girl who had such a love of music, yet could not give it expression until the shadow of death had first walked before her.

The next morning brought a letter from home, and by its tone Lancy felt he must be needed; so it was decided they should return to Charlottetown, finish their visit at Mrs. Fremont's, and then return home.

When Mr. McDonald learned that the young people were preparing to leave for the city, he called Dexie to his side, and turning to a small cupboard brought out a tin box, saying:

"Someane left this box in ma kairt that day I saw ye in the toon. I jaloose the owner was buyin' somethin' an' laid it there an' forgot aboot it, but I never saw it till I got hame. I opened it to see if I could fin' the name o' the owner, an' I found some papers wi' yer faither's name on them. Can ye mak' oot whit it means, ma lassie? Somethin' is no richt, I tak' it."

Dexie sat down beside him and read several of the letters and papers, and their contents filled her with surprise. She was well acquainted with her father's business, as she wrote many of his letters, and she saw at once that something was indeed wrong.

"How strange that I should come across this!" she said. "This letter is written by a man named Plaisted; he does business with papa. He has been on the Island with him, and knows the people that have had dealings with papa, before he joined him. What are you going to do with the box, Mr. McDonald?"

"I was gaun to ask Mr. Gurney to return it to the lawyer whase name is on the inside o' the cover. He's considered an honest man, though he is a lawyer. Maybe if ye wad tell him aboot this man Plaisted, it micht keep him frae daein' yer faither ony mischief. It wad dae nae harm, ony way."

"May I copy this letter written by Plaisted? I would like to show papa what kind of a man this Plaisted is, for I think he trusts him too much."

"Weel, it canna be ony harm, shurely, jist to _copy_ the letter, but ye needna mention the maitter to onyane; there's nae kennin' whit they wad mak' o't."

Dexie soon had a copy of the letter and a general knowledge of a few others in Plaisted's peculiar handwriting, and this proved of much value in establishing certain facts that came up at a future time, the copied letter proving the missing link in a chain of evidence that brought Plaisted's misdoings to judgment.

Lancy was consulted about the box, and promised to see it safe into the hands of the owner. Soon after they learned that this was the very box that they had heard the town-crier proclaim as _lost_ when driving home from the market-house.

With many regrets at leave-taking, both on the part of visitors and entertainers, the little party drove away, unconscious of the fact that under the seat of the carriage there were several substantial tokens of regard, which were, however, discovered, when they arrived at Mrs. Fremont's.

Mrs. Fremont congratulated them all on the benefit they had undoubtedly received from their visit, particularly Elsie, who seemed to be a new creature. Her pale cheeks had been painted by the sun a warm brown, and the pure sea-air had created an appetite that told its story in rounded limbs and wide-awake appearance that contrasted greatly with the languid movements she had brought with her from Halifax.

Lancy sent word to his parents that they would return the following week, and promised to telegraph the day of starting.

This was glad news to Hugh, who was present when the letter was read, and heard its contents discussed.

Ever since Hugh had come into possession of his fortune he had looked forward to the return of the party with much impatience. There were times when he felt almost tempted to seek Dexie's presence, and try again to win a word that would give him some hope. All his future plans seemed to depend on the way Dexie treated him, and he waited her coming, uplifted sometimes by hope, but more often depressed by fear, and with a restlessness that made him almost irritable at times. He insisted on filling his usual place in the store, glad enough to keep his mind occupied and his thoughts away from himself.

At last one morning the telegraph messenger knocked at the door, and brought the welcome message.

A broad smile passed over Mr. Gurney's face as he read the telegram, and he handed it to his wife, saying:

"Dexie sent that telegram or wrote it, or I'm very much mistaken."

Whereupon Hugh was very anxious to read it, and to his great delight Mrs. Gurney passed it over to him, and this is what he read:

"Kill the prodigal; the fatted calves are on the way."

For the first time in many weeks, Hugh burst into a hearty laugh, and he read the words over until he could almost fancy he heard Dexie's laughing voice beside him.

"Well, that message may have seemed incomprehensible to the transmitter of it, but it tells us a long story," said Mrs. Gurney, a smile lighting up her face. "It says they are well and in good spirits, that they are glad to be coming home again, but will be very hungry when they get here, so I had better bestir myself and 'kill the prodigal,'" and she rose to visit the kitchen.

"Well, she has told the story within the limit of ten words, too," said Hugh, making some excuse for keeping the bit of paper so long before him.

"What prodigal are you going to kill, mamma?" said Gracie, following her mother into the kitchen.

"Oh! that is what we will call the big fat chicken that eats so much oats, and picks the little ones on the back when they try to get a mouthful. He will do for a prodigal, so we will have him cooked for Elsie's supper."

Gracie sat down on a low stool, her face wearing a puzzled expression, and she began to repeat to herself the parable of the prodigal son. Suddenly a bright look came over her face, for she had solved the troublesome riddle, and she joyfully exclaimed:

"Oh, mamma! Dexie didn't learn it right; they didn't kill the prodigal, it was the fatted calf that was cooked! Oh, dear! how funny to make such a mistake, and she such a big girl! Say, Hugh," as he passed through the room, "Dexie is the prodigal, and not the fatted calf, isn't she?"

And with more earnestness than the subject demanded he replied: "I hope so."

It was Mr. Gurney who drove to the depot in the evening to meet the travellers, much to the disappointment of Hugh, who hoped to be the first to receive Dexie's greetings; but the excitement of their arrival had somewhat subsided by the time he made his appearance in the house.

It is needless to say there was great rejoicing in the Gurney household that evening. Elsie was petted and caressed to her heart's content, and she listened with a smiling face to the oft-repeated remark that she "looked so much better."

Hugh's unexpected good fortune came in for a share of the discussion which took place round the tea-table, and the well-cooked _prodigal_ was the butt of many jokes. Dexie was asked to come in and get her share of the "fatted calf," as Gracie persisted in calling it, but she begged to be excused, feeling that she would prefer to spend her first evening at home.

Gussie lost no time in telling Dexie all her hopes and plans, and she gave the impression that everything was settled. She could talk of nothing but the splendid time she expected to have in the future.

"Hugh does not say much to me, but I know I can do just as I like with him after we are married, so I don't mind if he is rather cool and short occasionally. Of course he means to marry me, or why did he talk so long to papa about it?" said Gussie, as she followed Dexie downstairs.

"Did papa tell you about it?" a suspicion of the true state of affairs entering her mind for a moment.

"No--but--well, to tell the truth, I was listening at the door, but I heard enough to let me know the nature of the interview, for I heard papa say quite distinctly, 'I don't think she cares enough for you, and she must marry to suit herself,' so what else could he have meant? Now, I do not care so very much about Hugh, I must confess--or I did not, I mean, when he was merely Mr. Gurney's clerk, but with a fortune in his pocket who could refuse such a fine-looking man?"

"Well, I could, for one," said Dexie, trying to hide a laugh. "He would need something more than riches to be attractive to me, for all his fine looks; but I congratulate you, Gussie. I hope you will be happy."

"Of course I will be happy, so long as the money holds out, anyway," said she, with a laugh that grated harshly on her sister's ears. "Did you see any brides when you were away, Dexie, and how were they dressed?"

"I wasn't searching for brides, Gussie. I confined my attention to pollywogs, crabs, and things of that ilk."

Gussie's remarks jarred on her feelings, in spite of her efforts to seem careless, but she smiled, as Gussie scornfully replied:

"Well, did I ever! I guess if you searched for a sunburnt face and a blistered nose, you found _them_ fast enough."

"Yes, unfortunately, one can find those sort of things without searching for them; they are thrown in with the pollywogs for good measure; but my nose is not half so ornamental as Lancy's. Don't be cross, Gussie. Let us go into the parlor and wait for the trunks. I have a lot of nice new patterns in fancywork for you."

They entered the parlor together, where Aunt Jennie followed them, and they talked about the many events that had transpired during Dexie's absence. The room was almost dark. It seemed pleasanter to talk in the twilight, but a bar of light shone from the sitting-room door, and relieved it from any sombre appearance. Dexie kept wondering why the expressman did not appear; she was anxious to see if the little treasures she had collected for distribution had borne the journey safely. She rose at last and went to the window to see if there was anyone in sight, but she was disappointed. Not so Hugh, who was just entering the house, and caught sight of her outline against the window-pane, and, thinking the unlighted parlor vacant but for Dexie's presence, he softly opened the door and stepped to her side. All her cold repulses were forgotten, her curt words of dismissal faded from his memory, his heart was yearning for her presence, she was there before him, and in a moment he had her in his arms.

"My darling! my love! do I see you at last. How I have longed for this moment!"

It was so sudden that for a moment Dexie was powerless to move, but she freed herself quickly, saying, as she stepped back:

"How dare you! How _dare_ you touch me! It is I; not Gussie," she added, thinking he might have mistaken the person, though his words belied the thought. "I was watching for the expressman, and did not notice you had come in; you made a mistake," came the quick-spoken words.

"Well, I should say it was a mistake, and an odd one too," said Gussie, coming forward. "How could you mistake that mop of a head for mine, Hugh?"

She had seen the embrace, but the whispered words had not reached her. Naturally, Hugh was much taken back when he realized that Dexie was not alone, but he anathematized Gussie in his heart, and bit his lips to keep back the words that sprang up in reply. If Gussie had known how precious that "mop of a head" was to her quondam lover, she would not have been so ready to "give herself away," as the trite saying has it.