An intensely blue sea embracing green islands, gray rocks against which sometimes curled, sometimes dashed, white-crested waves; a sky softly blue in the daytime, often rosy-flecked at sunset, at night a splendid background for myriad stars which never before seemed so near and so bright; peaked fir trees, song sparrows singing from the housetops, robins calling cheerfully from grassy hummocks, all these so impressed Ellen that it was with difficulty that she could bring herself to make a practical application of her mind to such affairs as her cousin demanded.
The house, though small, gave ample room for even Beulah. It was still cool enough in the evenings to light the logs in the big fireplace, and the days were long enough to afford time for walks in the morning, sailing in the afternoon, and supper on the rocks before dark.
Miss Rindy was in her element in the exercise of her executive powers, and Beulah burst forth into song at intervals, thus showing her content with the situation.
However, the latter met her Waterloo the first time that lobsters were to be served for supper. She appeared at the door of the living-room gingerly holding a lobster in each hand, gripping a claw firmly with a dish towel. “Law, Miss Rindy,” she exclaimed, “what kin’ o’ bugs is dese? I skeered o’ ’em. Boy fetch ’em in an’ say yuh-alls order ’em. What good is dey, Miss Rindy, ma’am?”
“Why, good to eat,” answered Miss Rindy. “Did you never see a lobster, Beulah?”
“I hears Miss Mabel talk ’bout live br’iled lobster. Is dey daid?” Beulah regarded them suspiciously.
“Of course. I wouldn’t undertake, myself, to boil them, so I had Mrs. Simpson do it for us; it is an everyday matter with her. You’ve heard the saying, ‘red as a boiled lobster,’ haven’t you?”
“I ’specs I has, but I doesn’t recomember. Anyway, Miss Rindy, yuh doesn’t ketch me eatin’ dem evil-eyed critturs. How yuh eats ’em? Dey is hard as rocks.”
“You open them as you do crabs, and take out the meat,” Miss Rindy explained. “You’ve prepared crabs many a time, Beulah.”
“Oh, yas’m, I has, but I skeered to tackle dese owdacious-lookin’ critturs. I knows crabs, but I nuver had de presentations of dese yere lobsters.” She bore them back to the kitchen.
“Now what’s to be done?” said Miss Rindy. “Do you know anything about opening lobsters, Miss Wickham?”
“I’m afraid I don’t. It has never been a part of my education.”
“Nor mine. I don’t want you all to be poisoned by getting hold of some deadly part,” returned Miss Rindy.
“Why not take them up to Mrs. Simpson and get her to show us how?” Ellen suggested.
“Just the ticket,” exclaimed Mabel, springing up. “Come along, Ellen. We’ll take a lesson from Mrs. Belah, and the next time we’ll show Beulah, so we’ll be independent for the rest of the summer.”
They bundled up the lobsters and bore them off to Mrs. Simpson, who laughed when she learned their errand. That any one should be so ignorant as not to know how to open lobsters was incomprehensible to her. “These city folks don’t know everything,” she confided to her next-door neighbor. However, she was “pleased to accommodate them,” she said, and each girl performed her task creditably under direction.
Mrs. Belah, or Aunt Noby, as every one called her, was a gentle old lady who had not outgrown an ancient belief in witches, signs, charms, and ghosts. She had had signs that very morning which indicated that she was to have strange visitors, so she was not in the least surprised when the two girls arrived. There was a horseshoe nailed above the door to keep off witches, for “there do be witches,” she said. As for ghosts, was there not a haunted house on the very next island? Every one knew that mysterious noises issued from it at certain times, and more than one had heard footsteps and had actually seen a pale face at the window.
“How fascinating!” cried Mabel. “We must go over there and investigate some day, Ellen. Have you ever been there, Aunt Noby?”
“Not I. Nothing would induce me. I’ve no wish to have any dealings with ungodly beings. The Bible warns us. Wasn’t Saul made to suffer because he dealt with familiar spirits? No, no, I cast all such doings from me.”
The girls took their leave, smiling as they went. “Isn’t she a dear, old-fashioned thing?” said Mabel. “Just the same, I mean to explore that house. Will you be a sport and go with me, Ellen? It will be such an adventure.”
“Nothing would suit me better. I’m primed for high adventure.”
“Then let’s go this afternoon; there’s no time like the present.”
The matter of lobsters was forgotten in this new excitement, but Miss Rindy brought back the subject, and the two girls were obliged to explain the anatomy of the creature before they were permitted to talk of anything else.
“One thing at a time,” said Miss Rindy. “I have a single-track mind, and can’t mix lobsters with haunted houses.”
“But you will go with us, won’t you? Please,” Ellen begged.
“How far is it?”
“Over on the next island.”
“Too far for an old limp-and-go-fetch-it like me. Don’t stay too late, and don’t let the goblins get you.”
The girls started off in high feather. Their way led to the end of Beatty’s Island, and thence by means of a bridge to Minor’s Island. Wild roses adorned the sides of the road, little ripe strawberries peeped out from the running tendrils of their vines, a sandpiper twittered and ran along ahead of them in frightened endeavor to lead them away from its nest, gulls screamed in noisy combat as they followed in the wake of a fishing boat, but the girls heeded none of these, for their spirits were winged for adventure.
In Mabel’s companionship Ellen felt happier than she had been since the dear studio days. On this peaceful island all the troubles of the past three years seemed to roll from her; the present was enough, no need to peer into the shadowy future. “Ah me, how glorious all this is!” she sighed contentedly. “I wonder if you know, Mabel Wickham, what it means to me to have you to walk with, to talk to. Never have I had such a dear chummy person to delight my soul.”
“Same here,” replied Mabel promptly. “All my life I’ve been looking for an Ellen North, and to think I should have found her simply by putting my finger on a little spot on the map. Don’t tell me things just happen; they are ordered, arranged by Heaven, or they wouldn’t be so wonderful.”
“So I believe. Do you suppose there are any more delightful things waiting for us around the corner?”
“Or at the haunted house,” returned Mabel laughing.
“That might be, of course. No place is so queer or so insignificant that it cannot hold the germ of a future joy, Mr. Todd says.”
“What a dear old man he is. I’d like just such a friend, but they don’t seem to come my way. You are a lucky girl, Ellen.”
“I believe I am in some directions. Certainly I have some wonderful friends, you, for instance.”
“Thanks for the compliment; I can return it.”
“I should think you would have the opportunity of making any kind of friend you wished,” said Ellen thoughtfully.
“You don’t know how difficult it is. I scarcely ever meet any one who thinks my thoughts or likes my likes. If I do meet any one promising, he or she is whisked away before I have a chance for a better acquaintance. Of course I do know some perfectly dear people that I love dearly, but they can’t enter into my interests and ambitions. My dear grandmother thinks I am queer to want a career. She can’t see why I shouldn’t be satisfied with a butterfly existence. I live within sight of the Monument, which is a fact that settles my status, to her mind. I can sit at my window and watch the passers-by as they promenade after church, a great privilege, that. I can listen to all the latest gossip about those in my own set. I can go to the best shops and have intimate talks with Miss Maggie or Miss Jennie, who will advise me what to buy, and will serve me well because I am my grandmother’s granddaughter. I never have to soil my hands with menial work. I can entertain and be entertained, so what in the world is there left in life to wish for?” Mabel laughed a little bitterly. “Would that fill your life satisfactorily?” she asked earnestly. “Would clothes and fine food and foolish gossip make up the summum bonum of your existence?”
“No, I am sure it wouldn’t, although I haven’t any large contempt for the fine clothes and food. I shall not dis............