Part 16

"Perhaps you can, but I promised Katie," replied Johnny, going to the kitchen for a tin pail. As Felix did not want to be left alone, and could not think of any thing better to do, he followed Johnny to the huckleberry pasture behind the house, with a tin cup in his hand. "It is easier to pick in a cup than in a pail," he said.

"Why?" asked Johnny.

"Because it fills up sooner, and that is encouraging."

Pretty soon the boys saw Oliver harnessing the dog-cart; and, a little after, Julia came out into the pasture with a pail, saying she could not find the kitten, and she fully believed Jack had carried it off, whether Felix knew about it or not.

"He hasn't done any such thing!" returned Felix: "he couldn't have taken it without my seeing it, and I am positively certain he had no kitten with him when we went down the road."

The dog-cart was brought around to the door, and Sue and Ruth drove down to the row of cottages. When they reached the first cottage, Ruth got out, and inquired at the door if they would like to hire a nurse-girl. Sue drove to the pavilion, and then, having hitched the pony, joined Ruth in the tour of inquiry. In the whole row of cottages, they found only one where a girl was wanted: this was a neat yellow cottage with red blinds, which was set quite a way back from the beach. There were a number of children playing about the piazzas. They seemed fretful and quarrelsome; and when Ruth asked one of the little girls what her name was, she replied, "None of your business!" The lady of the house was a short, fleshy woman, with a good many rings on her fingers. She looked at Ruth coolly from head to foot, asking her a good many questions, especially in regard to her references.

"My uncle keeps the lighthouse, ma'am, and he'll come down and tell you about me."

"But I don't know any thing about the lighthouse keeper. And if he is your uncle, of course he will recommend you."

"My mother will tell you what a nice girl she is," said Sue.

"And who is your mother?"

"She's Mrs. Le Bras."

"That lives in Mr. Louis Le Bras' cottage this season?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very well, that will do: I will try to come up and see Mrs. Le Bras, to-morrow or next day."

After the cottages had all been visited, and they were walking back to the dog-cart, Sue said,--

"I did not like that woman with the rings at all."

"I didn't think the children were well behaved, either," replied Ruth soberly; "but then, I don't suppose there could be a place just right, perhaps, and they are the only family that want a girl: and if I change my mind about wanting to hire out, I am afraid my aunt won't like it at all; though my uncle will be glad."

"I wouldn't go there, anyhow," said Sue; "folks are moving out and in these cottages almost every week, Oliver says, and there may be some nice family who will want a girl before long. But I think it will be nicer to stay with your uncle, and then we can visit back and forth, and have good times. If you get hired, they won't let you visit, or any one come to see you."

"I'm afraid my aunt won't let me visit, or have any one come to see me, either," replied Ruth, wiping a tear from her eye: "she wouldn't have let me come over here to-day, if she hadn't thought that maybe it would help me get a place to work."

"I don't think she is nice at all!" exclaimed Sue.

Ruth made no reply.

"Why! how awful dark and windy it's getting!" said Sue: "I guess we'll have to hurry home, or we'll get caught in the rain."

Ruth had been so taken up with sober thoughts, that she had not noticed the change in the weather; but she and Sue now hastened their steps, and were soon driving home as fast as the pony seemed willing to take them, which was at a rather moderate trot.

They had gone but a little distance, before there was a rumbling of thunder, and some large drops flew in their faces.

"I'm awful 'fraid we can't get home before it comes right down; and I'm kind of 'fraid of thunder, aren't you?" said Sue. "I do wish I'd brought that whip!"

"I am not afraid of thunder or lightning," replied Ruth encouragingly. "My uncle and I sometimes go up into the lighthouse to see the lightning: it is better than fireworks."

There was a team driving very fast behind them. Sue turned to one side to give it plenty of room.

"Hallo, youngsters!" said a familiar voice.

"Why, papa!" exclaimed Sue.

The carriage with the two gentlemen stopped.

"Hold on, Sue!" said Mr. Le Bras.

Sue stopped.

"They must get in with us, and let the pony shift for himself; since he will never get there before the shower," said a hearty voice that Sue did not recognize. She looked up just as the light buggy stopped at the side of the dog-cart, and saw a large, fine-looking gentleman in the buggy with her father. He was holding the reins. He and Mr. Le Bras quite filled up the narrow seat of the light vehicle. "Hand 'em over," continued the gentleman, as Mr. Le Bras alighted.

Mr. Le Bras helped Ruth out first, and put her in the buggy. The stout gentleman took her on his knees, and gave her a hug.

"Well, my dear!" said he, "we'll save you from a wetting, if possible." Mr. Le Bras put Sue in, and, after tying the reins over the pony's back, slapped him, and told him to hurry up. The pony jogged on at a very little faster pace; while Mr. Le Bras got into the buggy, and took Sue in his lap. Mr. Frothingham started the fast horse. They left the pony behind them. The drops came thicker and faster, a flash of lightning half blinded them; but they reached the house just as the storm came on in its fury, with thunder and lightning, and pelting rain. The pony was far behind, coolly making his way at his ordinary jog-trot, like a sedate philosopher. Oliver took Mr. Frothingham's team to the barn, and gave the horse some oats. Mr. Le Bras ushered his guest into the parlor. Mr. Frothingham followed him, leading Ruth and Sue by the hand.

"So you are the lighthouse keeper's niece?" he said to Ruth, as he seated himself in the great arm-chair, which Mr. Le Bras drew forward for him, and took a girl on each knee: "why, I've played with him many a time, when we were barefooted boys together."

"You!" exclaimed Ruth.

"You don't mean that you were ever a bare-footed boy, and lived about here?" exclaimed Sue, equally astonished.

"Why not, now?" replied Mr. Frothingham laughing; while Mr. Le Bras went up-stairs to ask his wife to come down and see their guest.

"Because," said Sue, "you're all dressed up, and wear a diamond pin. And aren't you the man that lives up in the big cottage, and that Felix says is a millionnaire, with more money than he knows what to do with?"

"That may all be true, my dear: but you know we live in America, where a barefooted boy may have as good a chance as any man, and perhaps better; because, you see, if I hadn't been a barefooted boy, who knew how to work and how to save, as very few do know how except poor men's children, I might never have been able to wear a diamond pin,--though that isn't of much consequence,--or build a cottage by the grand old sea, and have time to come and spend a summer in enjoying nature, when I am getting to be too old and heavy to want to work as hard as a young man can."

When Mrs. Le Bras came down, she, too, was surprised to learn that Mr. Frothingham had been born in that neighborhood, and had lived there until he was almost a young man.

"Certainly," said Mr. Frothingham. "I was born in a little brown farmhouse over towards the quarry: my father was the minister of the church over on the hill. He had a very small salary, and the farm helped support us."

"The white meeting-house with green blinds?" asked Felix; for he and Johnny had come in to see Mr. Frothingham.

"The very same, my boy: only it has been repainted and repaired inside, since my day. This little girl's grandfather was a near neighbor of ours, and one of my father's best parishioners. He was a very honest, kind-hearted, straightforward man; and his wife was a very dear friend of my mother's. Ethan was the oldest of the family, and worked hard, from the time he was big enough to handle a hoe; he had the hardest time of any of the children, and didn't get the schooling the others did; but that was partly because he was so ambitious about working, that he would not stop to go to school. It was a mistake, but he meant it all right; and he's helped his folks, and been an industrious, saving man. As for this little girl's mother,--and she looks just like her,--how well I remember Lucy! she was always one of the best scholars in school: we were in the same class. I saw her nearly every day of my life, and never too often, until I went to the city. When I came back, and found she was married to a nice young farmer here, I was a good deal taken back, for a while.--You see, it was my love for the old scenes that made me build a cottage here. When a man gets along in life, he likes to come back to the place where he was born: no other place can be quite so dear. I hoped once to have my children spend half of every year where I passed my childhood; but they are both gone. Mary, a girl of about Ruth's size, died over a year ago, and my wife hasn't been like herself since. Our boy died before the cottage was finished, and Mary only spent one season here."

"I am so sorry for you and your wife," said Mrs. Le Bras: "I don't know what I should do without my children."

"I have been telling Mr. Frothingham what I should do," remarked Mr. Le Bras.

"Yes," said Mr. Frothingham; "but, as I said in reply, there are some objections."

At that moment, the tea-bell rang; and, as it was still raining, Mr. Frothingham was persuaded to go out to tea with them.

"How came you home so early, father?" asked Johnny. "Mother thought you wouldn't be back until in the evening."

"We saw the squall coming up," replied Mr. Le Bras; "and I told Mr. Frothingham, as your mother was so timid, I thought, as we were not far out, we had better put in before the storm."

"I am so thankful you did," said Mrs. Le Bras: "I should have been worried; I have heard of so many accidents to yachts lately."

"Mine is not one of that kind, and I have a very expert man to sail it," replied Mr. Frothingham; "but I never like to have a lady unhappy if I can help it, and so I made for land as soon as your husband told me how easily you are frightened."

It stopped raining about the time tea was over, but still looked dark and lowering. Mrs. Le Bras said she must take Ruth home, according to her promise; or, if the gentlemen thought it would rain again, she would send her with Oliver, and call on her uncle and aunt some pleasant day herself.

"Why, I can take the child home, with my fast horse, without danger of getting caught in the next shower," replied Mr. Frothingham. "I would like to see Ethan too: I haven't been over to the lighthouse yet this season, for a wonder, or I should have known of his good luck in getting possession of Lucy's girl."

So it was concluded that Ruth should go with Mr. Frothingham. Oliver brought the team around; and after the children had said good-by, and that Ruth must come again soon, Mr. Frothingham put her in the buggy, got in himself, and drove off, taking the road across to the shore, to be ahead of the rain that seemed threatening. He talked sociably and kindly and interestingly all the way; and Ruth almost forgot it was a great man by her side instead of a boy of about her own age, he laughed so heartily, and took a child's view of things so easily. The fact was, Mr. Frothingham was one of those men who never wholly outgrow their childhood: he could feel like a boy after he was a middle-aged man.

When they reached the lighthouse, Mr. Shepard, who had seen them coming, was standing on the doorstep to welcome them.

"How do you do, Ethan?" said Mr. Frothingham, grasping Mr. Shepard's hand warmly.

"How d'y' do, Henry?" replied Mr. Shepard as heartily; "so it's you that have brought home that gal of mine! Glad enough to see you."

Mr. Shepard led the way into the parlor, and threw open all the window-blinds in a hurry.

"I can't see what wimmin want to keep out all the daylight for," he said; "but that's Martha's way.--You go tell yer aunt there's a friend of mine here, Ruth, an' I'd like to introduce her."

Ruth went to tell her aunt, and Mr. Shepard continued,--

"I b'lieve you ha'n't seen my new wife yet?"

"No. I hope you've drawn a prize in the lottery, Ethan."

"Wall, I don't know what I've drawn; somethin', that's sure." Here Mr. Shepard looked ominously sober. "The wust thing I've found out yet is that she's plaguey jealous."

"Jealous!" exclaimed Mr. Frothingham, in astonishment. "Why, it can't be possible, Ethan. You are not the kind of a man to give a woman the slightest excuse for jealousy."

"Wall, you see how't is, Henry: she's jealous of that pretty little niece of mine."

"Jealous of that dear little girl!" exclaimed Mr. Frothingham, in astonishment.

"Well, yes. I s'pose it's kind o' nat'ral, perhaps, bein' as she's jest married, or not onto a year yet, that she might want to be the only person of consequence 'round: that's what they tell me. But as my fust wife wasn't like that, I wasn't a-lookin' for it in another woman."

"I see!" replied Mr. Frothingham gravely: "she don't treat Ruth badly, does she?"

"Well, no; she don't do that exactly; she knows 'twouldn't be safe; but there's ways of making a child mighty on comfortable, I find, without out and out abusin' her."

"Exactly."

"You see, it's plain enough to Ruth that she don't want her here, and she isn't pleasant with her like; and so the gal is lonely and homesick. There was a lot of children at home,--and Lucy was mighty pleasant, you know."

"Yes, yes! Lucy was a gem!"

"Well, losing her mother and all, and it bein' sech a change here with Martha, it's putty hard on her; and she's took it inter her head, and my wife she's pressed the matter, that she'd ruther go and take care of children in some pleasant family than live here at the lighthouse. I thought as how you'd find out pretty soon, an' I might as well tell you fust as last what it means. You know well enough that it an't like me to let my own sister's child, and sech a sister as Lucy was, go out to work if I could help it; but I ha'n't no home but this to give her, and if she'd ruther go somewheres else,--and I can't blame her none,--why, I don't want to stand in her way; and so I haven't said she couldn't go, if she can find a good place; though I do feel mighty bad about it, all 'round."

"This is very serious, Ethan. I'm sorry enough for you. We must see what can be done. There's always more than one way out of a difficulty, if we set to work to find it."

"I thought, the minute I saw you coming a-bringing Ruth, that you were the very man to go to for advice. If she must go out to work, perhaps you'd know of some good family where she'd be kind o' treated like one of the family, and not put upon. She's a mighty smart gal to work, neat and orderly, jest like her mother, for all the world, and she's got her nice pretty ways about her; she's handy with a needle too; and sech a hand for books and papers! She's a mighty smart scholar, so they say, those that knew her in town."

Just then Mrs. Shepard came in, with her best dress on, to see the great millionnaire, whom her husband had the honor to be acquainted with. She appeared at her very best, seeming quite amiable, and did not even remind her husband that he had let all the flies into the room, and it would take her half a day to get them out again. Mr. Frothingham was very polite to her. She thought him a very charming gentleman indeed. As he rose to go, he said,--

"I must say good-by to Ruth, of course: we are old friends now."

"Oh! she's got on her common dress, and won't want to come in," replied Mrs. Shepard. "I'll tell her you left a good-by."

"I never leave my good-bys, with children of her age, anywhere but on their lips, if I can help it," replied Mr. Frothingham. "I've had children of my own, Mrs. Shepard, and I'm very fond of all children for their sakes, if for no other reason; though I think I'm naturally fond of young folks."

Mr. Shepard had left the room as soon as Mr. Frothingham asked for Ruth; and he now entered, leading her by the hard.

"Here she is, Henry," he said. "Isn't she lots like Lucy now?"

"That she is," replied Mr. Frothingham, kissing her. "Good-by, my little friend. I sha'n't let you forget me, though; for I shall be over to the lighthouse pretty often, and I'm going to bring my wife with me next time. She is very fond of little girls."

Before Mrs. Shepard could recover from her astonishment at this demonstration regarding Ruth, Mr. Frothingham was in his buggy, and driving homewards very fast, over the road by which Felix and Johnny had come to the lighthouse that evening, which was the nearest way to the great cottage. The sky was very dark, and there were more mutterings of thunder.

*CHAPTER XIII.*

*GOING TO THE HARBOR.*

Mr. Le Bras told Pierre that a friend of Mr. Frothingham, who was a guest at the large hotel at the Harbor, had gone out with them in the yacht, and had stated, incidentally, that he was anxious to find some good teacher of German to instruct his son in that language; since the young man was to travel in Germany in the fall, and it would be an advantage to know something about the language to begin with. He said he had spoken of Pierre, and recommended him; and the gentleman was anxious that he should come down to the hotel the next day, and hold an interview with himself and his son. Pierre was much pleased: he understood the German language as well as he understood English, and this would give him an opportunity to earn something during vacation. Mr. Le Bras said they would go down to the Harbor, then, in the morning, and Mrs. Le Bras and the children could go too, if they wished. Mrs. Le Bras replied that she had other plans for the next morning, and the children could ask Julia in her place, if they liked. The invitation was, accordingly, given to Julia, much to her delight. She said she liked to go to the hotel, it was such a gay place, and her mother always let her wear her best clothes when she went there.

They started the next morning about ten. Mr. Le Bras said they would not be home to dinner, but would dine at the hotel, so as to spend the afternoon, and give the children a good chance to see all the sights at the Harbor. He should go into town on business in the afternoon, and if the children and Pierre preferred to go with him rather than remain at the Harbor, they could do so.

Julia was dressed very handsomely, and wore a diamond ring, which shone brightly through her delicate, colored mitts.

"I wish Ruth was with us too," said Sue, as the horses pranced off down the shell road.

"What! in that blue calico?" replied Julia, laughing.

Sue, thus reminded, thought, herself, the blue calico would look rather odd in the fine carriage, by the side of their best clothes; and yet, somehow, it didn't seem as though it ought to, since the blue calico was the best dress Ruth had, and it was not her fault that she could not dress as well as they did.

"She's a real nice girl, anyhow," said Sue, "and just as good as we are,--if not better."

"It don't make any difference about her being good," returned Felix: "rich folks are rich folks, and poor folks are poor folks, and they can't go together."

"Yes, they can," returned Sue: "we went together yesterday, and had a real good time."

"I mean they can't go together and take dinner at a big hotel: they can't go together where folks have to be dressed up and look smart."

"I think it's too bad, anyhow," said Sue emphatically.

"So do I!" said Johnny. "I guess that's the reason folks don't like to be poor: they can't have as good times as rich folks, and they have to be looked down upon. I shouldn't like to be poor."

"I am poor, and yet I have a pretty good time, Johnny," remarked Pierre.

"And you and I are not rich, my son, and yet we manage to be pretty cheerful," added Mr. Le Bras.

"But we're not so very poor," replied Johnny: "Pierre dresses well, and so do we, and no one would think of calling us poor."

"Then, it is about as good as if we were rich," said Mr. Le Bras; "and perhaps it is better, though we are not apt to think so. It is my opinion that Pierre enjoys that new suit of his far more for having had to work hard in my office to earn it; and I don't enjoy seeing you and Sue in your best clothes any the less, because I have had to do some writing and talking in my office, or some speech-making in court, to purchase them. I cannot have just the kind of enjoyment Mr. Frothingham has in his fine yacht; but perhaps I manage to have just as good a time some other way, even when I do not have the advantage of your uncle's cottage by the sea. You and I have had pretty good times, before this summer, Johnny."

"Oh, yes!" said Johnny. "I think we have grand times at home."

"And often with nothing more costly than a book out of a free library. Don't go to having the dreary thought that persons who are not rich cannot enjoy themselves; for if that were so, the great portion of the people in the world would be miserable, and that would be a sad thing to think of. I shouldn't wonder if Ruth were enjoying herself in some way over at the lighthouse, as much as we are here in the carriage."

"I don't believe she is," said Sue; "because her mother is dead, and her aunt don't like to have her stay there."

"But that isn't because she is poor. If her own mother were there, she might be happy."

"Oh, yes! I could be real happy there, myself, seeing the waves, and hearing them clash, if you and mamma and Johnny were there; and it wouldn't make any difference if I had on my very worst dress."

"Wouldn't you be just a little happier if you had on a diamond ring like Julia's?" asked Felix quizzically.

"Perhaps I should for a little while; but I would rather papa should have a diamond pin like Mr. Frothingham's. Didn't it shine beautifully?"

"A diamond is nothing but carbon," remarked Johnny; "and charcoal is carbon too. I will give papa a piece of charcoal to wear."

"Ho, ho!" laughed Felix: "that's a yarn! A diamond is just as different from charcoal as possible!"

"How?" asked Johnny.

"Why, it's white, and charcoal is black; it's transparent, and charcoal isn't; it won't rub off, and charcoal will; it won't burn up like charcoal, and it's worth no end of times more."

"But they are both carbon just the same; and those lozenges you are eating are principally carbon, too, although they are a good deal whiter than charcoal. You haven't any idea how much charcoal you are eating, when you eat sugar or candy. There isn't any particular difference between the whitest of sugar and charcoal, except that the particles are so arranged as to reflect or absorb light differently. I can take a handful of white sugar, and, by putting in something to change the arrangement of the particles, make it look as much like charcoal as it is, just as black as your boot, and spread out into a great deal larger space than it occupied before."

"Yes, he can," said Sue: "I've seen him do it."

"Well, I'd like to see him do it, before I believe it."

"I'll do it when we get home, to-night, if you will give me five cents, and papa will get me some acid to do it with, when he goes into town. The kind of acid I want will cost five cents."

"All right! here's your five cents," replied Felix, taking the amount from his pocket-book.