Westways: A Village Chronicle Read online

  CHAPTER II

  John was the first to return to the outer world. He stood still, seeingthe horse on its legs, Billy unharnessing, Leila for an instant lost tosight. The boy was scared. In his ordered life it was an unequalledexperience. Then he saw a merry face above the drift and lying around ita wide-spread glory of red hair on the white snow. In after years hewould recall the beauty of the laughing young face in its setting of darkgold and sunlit silver snow.

  "Oh, my!" she cried. "That Billy! Don't stand there, John; pull me out,I'm stuck."

  He gave her a hand and she bounded forth out of the drift, shaking offthe dry snow as a wet dog shakes off water. "What's the matter, John?"

  He was trying to empty neck, pocket and shoes of snow, and was pastthe limits of what small endurance he had been taught. "I shall catchmy death of cold. It's down my back--it's everywhere, and I--shallget--laryngitis."

  The brave blue eyes of the girl stared at his dejected figure. She was atheart a gentle, little woman-child, endowed by nature with so much oftom-boy barbarism as was good for her. Just now a feeling of contemptuoussurprise overcame her kindliness and her aunt's training. "There's yourbag on the snow, and Billy will find your cap. What does a boy want witha bag? A boy--and afraid of snow!" she cried. "Help him with thatharness."

  He made no reply, but looked about for his lost cane. Then the youngdespot turned upon the driver. "Wait till Uncle James hears; he'll comedown on you."

  "My lands!" said Billy, unbuckling a trace, "I'll just say, I'm sorry;and the Squire he'll say, don't let it happen again; and I'll say, yes,sir."

  "Yes, until Aunt Ann hears," said Leila, and turned to John. His attitudeof utter helplessness touched her.

  "Come into the house; you must be cold." She was of a sudden alltenderness.

  Through an outside winter doorway-shelter they entered a hall unusuallylarge for an American's house and warmed by two great blazing hickorywood-fires. "Come in," she cried, "you'll be all right. Sit down by thefire; I'll be down in a minute, I want to see where Aunt Ann has putyou."

  "I am much obliged," said John shivering. He was alone, but wet as he wasthe place captured an ever active imagination. He looked about him as hestood before the roaring fire. To the right was an open library, to theleft a drawing-room rarely used, the hall being by choice the favouredsitting-room. The dining-room was built out from the back of the hall,whence up a broad stairway Leila had gone. The walls were hung withIndian painted robes, Sioux and Arapahoe weapons, old colonial rifles,and among them portraits of three generations of Penhallows. Many olderpeople had found interesting the strange adornment of the walls, whereamid antlered trophies of game, buffalo heads and war-worn Indian relics,could be read something of the owner's tastes and history. John stood bythe fire fascinated. Like many timid boys, he liked books of adventureand to imagine himself heroic in situations of peril.

  "It's all right. Come up," cried Leila from the stair. "Your trunk'sthere now. There's a fine fire."

  Forgetful of the cold ride and of the snow down his back, he wasstanding before the feathered head-dress of a Sioux Chief andtouching the tomahawk below it. He turned as she spoke. "Those mustbe scalp-locks--three." He saw the prairie, the wild pursuit--saw themas she could not. He went after her upstairs, the girl talking, theboy rapt, lost in far-away battles on the plains.

  "This is your room. See what a nice fire. You can dry yourself. Yourtrunk is here already." She lighted two candles. "We dine at half-pastsix."

  "Thank you; I am very much obliged," he said, thinking what a mannerlessgirl.

  Leila closed the door and stood still a moment. Then she exclaimed,"Well, I never! What will Uncle Jim say?" She listened a moment. Noone was in the hall. Then she laughed, and getting astride of thebanister-rail made a wild, swift and perilous descent, alighting at thefoot in the hall, and readjusting her short skirts as she heard her auntand uncle on the porch. "I was just in time," she exclaimed. "Wouldn't Ihave caught it!"

  The Squire, as the village called him, would have applauded this form ofcoasting, but Aunt Ann had other views. "Well!" he said as they came in,"what have you done with your young man?"

  Now he was for Leila anything but a man or manly, but she was a loyallittle lady and unwilling to expose the guest to Uncle Jim's laughter."He's all right," she said, "but Billy upset the sleigh." She was longingto tell about that ball in the stable, but refrained.

  "So Billy upset you; and John, where is he?"

  "He's upstairs getting dried."

  "It is rather a rough welcome," remarked her aunt.

  "He lost his cap and his cane," said Leila.

  "His cane!" exclaimed her uncle, "his cane!"

  "I must see him," said his wife.

  "Better let him alone, Ann." But as usual she took her own way and wentupstairs. She came down in a few minutes, finding her husband standingbefore the fire--an erect, soldierly figure close to forty years of age.

  "Well, Ann?" he queried.

  "A very nice lad, with such good manners, James."

  "Billy found his cap," said Leila, "but he couldn't get the sleigh set upuntil the stable men came."

  "And that cane," laughed Penhallow. "Was the boy amused or--or scared?"

  "I don't know," which was hardly true, but the chivalry of childhoodforbade tale-telling and he learned very little. "He was rather tired andcold, so I made him go to his room and rest."

  "Poor child!" said Aunt Ann.

  James Penhallow looked at Leila. Some manner of signals wereinterchanged. "I saw Billy digging in the big drift," he said. "I trusthe found the young gentleman's cane." Some pitying, dim comprehension ofthe delicately nurtured lad had brought to the social surface thekindliness of the girl and she said no more.

  "It is time to dress for dinner," said Ann. Away from the usages of thecity she had wisely insisted on keeping up the social forms which theSquire would at times have been glad to disregard. For a moment AnnPenhallow lingered. "We must try to make him feel at home, James."

  "Of course, my dear. I can imagine how Susan Penhallow would haveeducated a boy, and now I know quite too well what we shall have toundo--and--do."

  "You won't, oh! you will not be too hard on him."

  "I--no, my dear--but--I suspect his American education has begunalready."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Ask Leila--and Billy. But that can wait." They separated.

  While his elders were thus briefly discussing this new addition to theresponsibilities of their busy lives, the subject of their talk had beenwarmed into comfortable repossession of his self-esteem. He set in orderhis elaborate silver toilet things marked with the Penhallow crest, sawin the glass that his dress and unboylike length of curly hair were as hehad been taught they should be; then he looked at his watch and wentslowly downstairs.

  "Halloa! John," he heard as he reached the last turn of the stairs. "Mostglad to see you. You are very welcome to your new home." The man whohailed him was six feet two inches, deep-chested, erect--the West Pointfigure; the face clean-shaven, ruddy, hazel-eyed, was radiant with thehonest feeling of desire to put this childlike boy at ease.

  The little gentleman needed no aid and replied, "My dear uncle, I cannotsufficiently thank you." A little bow went with his words, and heplacidly accepted his aunt's embrace, while the hearty Miss Leila lookedon in silence. The boy's black suit, the short jacket, the neat blacktie, made the paleness of his thin large-featured face too obvious. ThenLeila took note of the court shoes and silk socks, and looked at UncleJim to see what he thought. The Squire reserved what criticism he mayhave had and asked cheerfully about the journey, Aunt Ann aiding him witheager will to make the boy feel at home. He was quite enough at home. Itwas all agreeable, these handsome relations and the other Penhallows onthe walls. He had been taught that which is good or ill as men use it,pride of race, and in his capacity to be impressed by his surroundingswas years older than Leila. He felt sure that he would like it here atGrey Pine, but was surprised to see no
butler and to be waited on atdinner by two neat little maids.

  When Ann Penhallow asked him about his schools and his life in Europe, hebecame critical, and conversed about picture-galleries and foreign lifewith no lack of accuracy, while the Squire listened smiling and Leila satdumb with astonishment as the dinner went on. He ate little and kept inmind the endless lessons in regard to what he should or should not eat.Meanwhile, he silently approved of the old silver and these well-bredkinsfolk, with a reserve of doubt concerning his silent cousin.

  His uncle had at last his one glass of Madeira, and as they rose his auntsaid, "You may be tired, John; you ought to go to bed early."

  "It is not yet time," he said. "I always retire at ten o'clock."

  "He 'retires,'" murmured his uncle. "Come, Ann, we will leave Leila tomake friends with the new cousin. Try John at checkers, Leila. Shedefeats me easily."

  "I--never saw any one could beat me at _jeu des dames_," said John. Itwas a fine chance to get even with Leila for the humiliating adventuresof a not very flattering day.

  "Well, take care," said the Squire, not altogether amused. "Come, Ann."Entering the large library room he closed the door, drew over it acurtain, filled his pipe but did not light it, and sat down at the firebeside his wife.

  "Well, James," she said, "did you ever see a better mannered lad, and sointelligent?"

  "Never--nor any lad who has as good an opinion of his small self. He istoo young for his years, and in some ways too old. I looked him over abit. He is a mere scaffolding, a sickly-looking chap. He eats too little.I heard him remark to you that potatoes disagreed with him and that henever ate apples."

  "But, James, what shall we do with him? It is a new and a difficultresponsibility."

  "Do with him? Oh! make a man of him. Give him and Leila a week's holiday.Turn him loose with that fine tom-boy. Then he must go to school to MarkRivers with Leila and those two young village imps, the doctor's boy andGrace's, that precious young Baptist. They will do him good. When Markreports, we shall see further. That is all my present wisdom, Ann. Hasthe _Tribune_ come? Oh! I see--it is on the table."

  Ann was still in some doubt and returned to the boy. "And where do I comein?"

  "Feed the young animal and get the tailor in the village to make him somewarm rough clothes, and get him boots for the snow--and thick gloves--anda warm ready-made overcoat."

  "I will. But, James, Leila will half kill him. He is so thin and pale. Helooks hardly older than she does." Then Ann rose, saying, "Well, we shallsee, I suppose you are right," and after some talk about the iron-worksleft him to his pipe.

  When she returned to the hall, the two children were talking ofEurope--or rather Leila was listening. "Well," said the little lady, AnnPenhallow, "how did the game go, John?"

  "I am rather out of practice," said John. Leila said nothing. He had beenshamefully worsted. "I think I shall go to bed," he remarked, looking athis watch.

  "I would," she said. "There are the candles. There is a bathroom next toyou."

  He was tired and disgusted, but slept soundly. When at breakfast he saidthat he was not allowed tea or coffee, he was fed with milk, to whichwith hot bread and new acquaintance with griddle cakes he took kindly.After breakfast he was driven to the village with his aunt and equippedwith a rough ready-made overcoat and high boots. He found the dresscomfortable, but not to his taste.

  When he came back, the Squire and Leila had disappeared and he was leftto his own devices. He was advised by his aunt to walk about and see thestables and the horses. That any boy should not want to see the horseswas inconceivable in this household. He did go out and walk on the porch,but soon went in chilled and sat down to lose himself in a book of polartravel. He liked history, travel and biographies of soldiers, fearfullydesiring to have his own courage tested--a more common boy-wish thanmight be supposed. He thought of it as he laid down the book and began toinspect again the painted buffalo skins on the wall, letting hisimagination wander when once more he touched a Sioux tomahawk with itsgrim adornment of scalp-locks. He was far away when he heard his auntsay, "You were not out long, John. Did they show you the horses?"

  Shy and reserved in novel surroundings, he was rather too much at hisease amid socially familiar things, and now said lightly that he had notseen the stables. "Really, Aunt Ann, I prefer to read or to look at theseinteresting Indian relics."

  "Ask your uncle about them," she said, "but you will find out that horsesare important in this household." She left him with the conviction thatJames Penhallow was, on the whole, right as to the educational needs ofthis lad.

  After lunch his uncle said, "Leila will show you about the place. Youwill want to see the horses, of course, and the dogs."

  "And my guinea pigs," added Leila.

  He took no interest in either, and the dogs somewhat alarmed him. Hiscousin, a little discouraged, led him away into the woods where theancient pines stood snow laden far apart with no intrusion between themof low shrubbery. Leila was silent, half aware that he was hard toentertain, and then mischievously wilful to give this indifferent cousina lesson. Presently he stood still, looking up at the towering cones ofthe motionless pines.

  "How stately they are--how like old Vikings!" he said. His imaginationwas the oldest mental characteristic of this over-guarded, repressedboyhood.

  Leila turned, surprised. This was beyond her appreciative capacity. "OnceI heard Uncle Jim say something like that. He's queer about trees. Hetalks to them sometimes just like that. There's the biggest pine overthere--I'll show it to you. Why! he will stop and pat it and say, 'Howare you?'--Isn't it funny?"

  "No, it isn't funny at all. It's--it's beautiful!"

  "You must be like him, John."

  "I--like him! Do you think so?" He was pleased. The Indian horseman ofthe plains who could talk to the big tree began to be felt by the boy assomehow nearer.

  "Let's play Indian," said Leila. "I'll show you." She was merry, intenton mischief.

  "Oh! whatever you like." He was uninterested.

  Leila said, "You stand behind this tree, I will stand behind that one."She took for herself the larger shelter. "Then you, each of us, get readythis way a pile of snowballs. I say, Make ready! Fire! and we snowballone another like everything. The first Indian that's hit, he falls downdead. Then the other rushes at him and scalps him."

  "But," said John, "how can he?"

  "Oh! he just gives your hair a pull and makes believe."

  "I see."

  "Then we play it five times, and each scalp counts one. Now, isn't thatreal jolly?"

  John had his doubts as to this, but he took his place and made somesnowballs clumsily.

  "Make ready! Fire!" cried Leila. The snowballs flew. At last, the girlseeing how wildly he threw exposed herself. A better shot took her fullin the face. Laughing gaily, she dropped, "I'm dead."

  The game pleased him with its unlooked-for good luck. "Now don't standthere like a ninny--scalp me," she cried.

  He ran to her side and knelt down. The widespread hair affected himcuriously. He touched it daintily, let it fall, and rose. "To pull at agirl's hair! I couldn't do it."

  Leila laughed. "A good pull, that's how to scalp."

  "I couldn't," said John.

  "Well, you are a queer sort of Indian!" She was less merciful, but in theend, to her surprise, he had three scalps. "Uncle Jim will laugh when Itell him," she said. "Shall we go home?"

  "No, I want to see Uncle Jim's big tree."

  "Oh! he's only Uncle Jim to me. Aunt don't like it. He will tell you someday to call him Uncle Jim. He says I got that as brevet rank the day mymare refused the barnyard fence and pitched me off. I just got on againand made her take it! That's why he's Uncle Jim."

  John became thoughtful about that brevet privilege of a remote future. Hehad, however, persistent ways. "I want to see the big pine, Leila."

  "Oh! come on then. It's a long way. We must cut across." He followed herremorselessly swift feet through the leafless bushes and drif
ts untilthey came upon a giant pine in a wide space cleared to give the veteranroyal solitude. "That's him," cried Leila, and carelessly cast herselfdown on the snow.

  The boy stood still in wonder. Something about the tree disturbed himemotionally. With hands clasped behind his back, he stared up at itstowering heights. He was silent.

  "What's the matter? What do you see?" She was never long silent. He wassearching for a word.

  "It's solemn. I like it." He moved forward and patted the huge hole witha feeling of reverence and affection. "I wish he could speak to us. Howare you, old fellow?"

  Leila watched him. As yet she had no least comprehension of this sense ofbeing kindred to nature. It is rare in youth. As he spoke, a littlebreeze stirred the old fellow's topmost crest and a light downfall ofsnow fell on the pair. Leila laughed, but the boy cried, "There! he hasanswered. We are friends."

  "Now, if that isn't Uncle Jim all over. He just does make me laugh."

  John shook off the snow. "Let's go home," he said. He Was warm and redwith the exercise, and in high good-humour over his success. "Did younever read a poem called 'The Talking Oak'? I had a tutor used to read itto me."

  "Now, the idea of a tree talking!" she said. "No, I never heard of it.Come along, we'll be late. That's funny about a tree talking. Can yourun?"

  They ran, but not far, because deep snow makes running hard. It was afterdark when they tramped on to the back porch. John's experience taught himto expect blame for being out late. No one asked a question or made aremark. He was ignored, to his amazement. Whether, as he soon learned, hewas in or out, wet or dry, seemed to be of no moment to any one, providedhe was punctual at meal-times. It was at first hard to realize thereasonable freedom suddenly in his possession. The appearance of completewant of interest in his health and what he did was as useful a moraltonic as was for the body the educational out-of-doors' society of thefearless girl, his aunt's niece whom he was told to consider as hiscousin. To his surprise, he was free to come and go, and what he or Leiladid in the woods or in the stables no one inquired. Aunt Ann uneasy wouldhave known all about them, but the Squire urged, that for a time, "letalone" was the better policy. This freedom was so unusual, sounreservedly complete, as to rejoice Leila, who was very ready to use theliberty it gave. In a week the rector's school would shut them up forhalf of the day of sunlit snow. Meanwhile, John wondered with interestevery morning where next those thin active young legs would lead him.

  The dogs he soon took to, when Leila's whistle called them,--a wildtroop, never allowed beyond the porch or in the house. For some occultreason Mrs. Ann disliked dogs and liked cats, which roamed the house atwill and were at deadly feud with the stable canines. No rough weatherever disturbed Leila's out-of-door habits, but when for two days a lazyrain fell and froze on the snow, John declared that he could not ventureto get wet with his tendency to tonsilitis. As Leila refused indoorsociety and he did not like to be left alone, he missed the gay andgallant little lady, and still no one questioned him. On the third day atbreakfast Leila was wildly excited. The smooth ice-mailed snow shonebrilliant in the sunshine.

  "Coasting weather, Uncle Jim," Leila said.

  "First class," said her uncle. "Get off before the sun melts the crust."

  "Do be careful, dear," said Ann Penhallow, "and do not try the farmhill."

  "Yes, aunt." The Squire exchanged signal glances with Leila over theteacup he was lifting. "Come, John," she said. "No dogs to-day. It's justperfect. Here's your sled."

  John had seen coasting in Germany and had been strictly forbidden soperilous an amusement. As they walked over the crackling ice-cover of thesnow, he said, "Why do you want to sled, Leila? I consider it extremelydangerous. I saw two persons hurt when we were in Switzerland." Hisimagination was predicting all manner of disaster, but he had the moralcourage which makes hypocrisy impossible. From the hill crest John lookeddown the long silvery slope and did not like it. "It's just a foolishrisk. Do you mean to slide down to that brook?"

  "Slide! We coast, we don't slide. I think you had better go back and tellUncle Jim you were afraid."

  He was furious. "I tell you this, Miss Grey--I am afraid--I have beentold--well, never mind--that--well---I won't say I'm not afraid--but I'mmore afraid of Uncle James than--than--of death."

  She stood still a moment as she faced him, the two pair of blue eyesmeeting. He was very youthful for his years and was near the possibilityof the tears of anger, and, too, the virile qualities of his race wereprotesting forces in the background of undeveloped character. The sweetgirl face grew red and kinder. "I was mean, John Penhallow. I am sorry Iwas rude."

  "No--no," he exclaimed, "it was I who was--was--ill-mannered. I--mean tocoast if I die."

  "Die," she laughed gaily. "Let me go first."

  "Go ahead then." She was astride of the sled and away down the longdescent, while he watched her swift flight. He set his teeth and was offafter her. A thrill of pleasure possessed him, the joy of swift movement.Near the foot was an abrupt fall to a frozen brook and then a sharpascent. He rolled over at Leila's feet seeing a firmament of stars androse bewildered.

  "Busted?" cried Leila, who picked up the slang of the village boys to heraunt's disgust.

  "I am not what you call busted," said John, "but I consider it mostdisagreeable." Without a word more he left her, set out up the hill andcoasted again. He upset half-way down, rolled over, and got on againlaughing. This time somehow he got over the brook and turned crossly onLeila with, "I hope now you are satisfied, Miss Grey."

  "You'll do, I guess," said she. "I just wondered if you would back out,John. Let's try the other hills." He went after her vexed at her way ofordering him about, and not displeased with John Penhallow and his newexperience in snatching from danger a fearful joy.