Elsie at Nantucket

"And I," said Edward, "echo my wife's sentiments on the subject under discussion."

"Your wife" the lady exclaimed, with a look of surprise.

"I took her to be your sister; you are both so very young in appearance."

"We are not very old," laughed Edward; "Zoe is but sixteen, but we have been married a year."

"You have begun early; it is thought by some that early marriages are apt to be the happiest, and I should think them likely to be, provided the two are willing to conform their tastes and habits each to those of the other. I trust you two have a long life of happiness before you."

"Thank you," they both said, Edward adding, "I think we are disposed to accommodate ourselves to each other, and whether our lives be long or short, our trials many or few, I trust we shall always find great happiness in mutual sympathy, love and confidence."

The lady asked if they had seen all the places of interest on the island, and in reply they named those they had seen.

"Have you been to Mrs. Mack's?" she asked.

"No, madam, we have not so much as heard of her existence," returned

Edward, sportively. "May I ask who and what she is?"

"Yes; she is the widow of a sea-captain, who has a collection of curiosities which she keeps on exhibition, devoting the proceeds, so she says, to benevolent purposes. She is an odd body; herself the greatest curiosity she has to show, I think. You should visit her museum by all means."

"We shall be happy to do so if you will kindly put us in the way of it," said Edward. "How shall we proceed in order to gain admittance?"

"If we can get up a party it will be easy enough; I shall then send her word, and she will appoint the hour when she will receive us; she likes to show her independence, and will not exhibit unless to a goodly number.

"I know of several visitors on the island who want to go, and if your party will join with them there will be no difficulty."

"I think I can promise that we will," said Edward. "I will let you know positively to-morrow morning."

"That will do nicely. Hark, they are singing aboard the yacht."

They listened in silence till the song was finished.

"I recognized most of the voices," Mrs. Fry remarked, "but two lovely sopranos were quite new to me. Do you know the owners?" turning smilingly to Edward.

"My mother and sister," he answered, with proud satisfaction.

"Naturally fine, and very highly cultivated," she said. "You must be proud of them."

"I am," Edward admitted, with a happy laugh.

The sun was down and twilight had fairly begun. Grace, seated on her father's knee, was gazing out over the harbor.

"See, papa, how many little lights close down to the water!" she said.

"Yes; they are lamps on the small boats that are sailing or rowing about; they show them for safety from running into each other."

"And they look so pretty."

"Yes, so they do; and it is a sight one may have every evening from the wharf. Shall I take you down there some evening and let you sit and watch them as they come and go?"

"Oh, yes, do, papa; I think it would be so nice! And you would take Max and Lulu too, wouldn't you?"

"If they should happen to want to go; there are benches on the wharf where we can sit and have a good view. I think we will try it to-morrow evening if nothing happens to prevent."

"Oh, I'm so glad! You are such a good, kind papa," she said, delightedly, giving him a hug.

"The very best you have ever had, I suppose," he responded, with a pleased laugh.

"Yes, indeed," she answered, naïvely, quite missing the point of his jest.

On reaching home Edward and Zoe reported their conversation with the lady in the dory, and asked, "Shall we not go?"

"I think so, by all means, since it is for benevolent objects," said

Elsie.

"Or anyhow, since we feel in duty bound to see all that is to be seen on this island," said Captain Raymond.

No dissenting voice was raised, and when the next morning word came that Mrs. Mack would exhibit that afternoon if a party were made up to attend, they all agreed to go.

The distance was too great for ladies and children to walk, so carriages were ordered. Captain Raymond and his family filled one.

"This is the street that oldest house is on," remarked Lulu, as they turned a corner; "I mean that one we went to see; that has the big horse-shoe on its chimney."

"What do they have that for, papa?" asked Grace.

"In old times when many people were ignorant and superstitious, it was thought to be a protection from witches."

"Witches, papa? what are they?"

"I don't think there are any, really," he said, with a kindly smile into the eagerly inquiring little face; "but in old times it was a very common belief that there were people – generally some withered-up old women – who had dealings with Satan, and were given power by him to torment, or bring losses and various calamities upon any one whom they disliked.

"When you are a little older you shall hear more about it, and how that foolish belief led to great crimes and cruelties inflicted upon many innocent, harmless people. But now, while my Gracie is so young and timid, I do not want her to know too much about such horrors."

"Yes, papa," she responded; "I won't try to know till you think I'm quite old enough."

Several vehicles drew up at the same moment in front of Mrs. Mack's door, and greetings and some introductions were exchanged on the sidewalk and door-steps. Edward introduced his mother and Mrs. Fry to each other, and the latter presented to them a Mrs. Glenn, who, she said, was a native of Nantucket, but had only recently returned after an absence of many years.

"Mrs. Mack knew me as a young girl," Mrs. Glenn remarked, "and I am quite curious to see whether she will recognize me."

At that instant the door was opened in answer to their ring, and they were invited to enter and walk into the parlor.

They found it comfortably furnished and neat as wax. Seating themselves they waited patiently for some moments the coming of the lady of the house.

At length she made her appearance; a little old lady, neatly attired, and with a pleasant countenance.

Mrs. Fry saluted her with a good-afternoon, adding, "I have brought some friends with me to look at your curiosities. This lady," indicating Mrs. Glenn, "you ought to know, as you were acquainted with her in her girlhood."

"Do you know me, Mrs. Mack?" asked Mrs. Glenn, offering her hand.

"Yes, you look as natural as the pigs," was the rather startling reply; accompanied, however, by a smile and cordial shake of the offered hand.

"Now, we'll take the money first to make sure of it," was the next remark, addressed to the company in general.

"What is your admission fee?" asked Mr. Dinsmore, producing his pocketbook.

"Fifteen cents apiece."

"By no means exorbitant if your collection is worth seeing," he returned, good-humoredly. "Never mind your purses, Elsie, Raymond, Ned, I'll act as paymaster for the party."

The all-important business of collecting the entrance fees having been duly attended to, Mrs. Mack led the way to an upper room where minerals, shells, sharks' teeth, and various other curiosities and relics were spread out upon tables and shelves, ranged along the sides and in the centre of the apartment.

"Now," she said, "the first thing is to register your names. You must all register. You begin," handing the book to Mr. Dinsmore, "you seem to be the oldest."

"I presume I am," he said, dryly, taking the book and doing as he was bidden. "Now, you, Raymond," passing it on to the captain, "we'll take it for granted that you are next in age and importance."

"That's right, captain," laughed Betty, as he silently took the book and wrote his name, "it wouldn't be at all polite to seem to think yourself younger than any lady present."

"Of course not, Miss Betty; will you take your turn next?"

"Of course not, sir; do you mean to insinuate that I am older than Aunt

Rose?" she asked, passing the book on to Mrs. Dinsmore.

"Don't be too particular about going according to ages," said Mrs. Mack, "it takes up too much time."

"You may write my name for me, Ned," said Zoe, when he took the book.

"Yes, write your sister's name for her; it'll do just as well," said

Mrs. Mack.

"But I'm not his sister," said Zoe.

"What, then? is he your lover?"

"No," Edward said, laughing, "we're husband and wife."

"You've begun young," she remarked, taking the book and passing it on; "don't look as if you'd cut your wisdom teeth yet, either of you. When the ladies have all registered, some of you grown folks had better do it for the children."

Having seen all their names duly inscribed in her register, "Seat yourselves," she said, waving her hand toward some benches and chairs.

Then, with the help of a half-grown girl, she set out a small circular table, placed a box upon it, pushed up chairs and a bench or two, and said, "Now, as many of you as can, come and sit round this table; the others shall have their turn afterward."

When all the places were filled, she opened the box and took from it a number of beautifully carved articles – napkin-rings, spoons, etc.

"Now, all take your turns in looking at this lovely carved work, while I tell you its story," she said, "the story of how it came into my possession."

"You see, my husband was a sea-captain, and upon one occasion, when he was about setting sail for a long voyage, a young man, or lad – he was hardly old enough to be called a man – came and asked to be taken as one of the crew. He gave a name, but it wasn't his true name, inherited from his father, as my husband afterward discovered. But not suspecting anything wrong, he engaged the lad, and took him with him on the voyage.

"And the lad behaved well aboard the ship, and he used to carve wonderfully well – as you may see by looking at these articles – just with a jack-knife, and finally – keeping at it in his leisure moments – he made all these articles, carving them out of sharks' teeth.

"You can see he must have had genius; hadn't he? and yet he'd run away from home to go to sea, as my husband afterward had good reason to believe."

She made a long story of it, spinning out her yarn until the first set had examined the carved work to their satisfaction.

Then, "Reverse yourselves," she said, indicating by a wave of her hand, that they were to give place at the table to the rest of the company.

When all had had an opportunity to examine the specimens of the lad's skill, the young girl was ordered to restore them to the box, but first to count them.

That last clause brought an amused smile to nearly every face in the audience, but Lulu frowned, and muttered, "Just as if she thought we would steal them!"

Next, Mrs. Mack began the circuit of the room, carrying a long slender stick with which she pointed out those which she considered the most interesting of her specimens or articles of virtu.

One of these last was a very large, very old-fashioned back-comb, having a story with a moral attached, the latter recited in doggerel rhyme.

She had other stories, in connection with other articles, to tell in the same way. In fact, so many and so long were they, that the listeners grew weary and inattentive ere the exhibition was brought to a close.

The afternoon was waning when they left the house. As Captain Raymond and his family drove into the heart of the town on their way home, their attention was attracted by the loud ringing of a hand-bell, followed now and again by noisy vociferation, in a discordant, man's voice.

"So the evening boat is in," remarked the captain.

"How do you know, papa?" asked Grace.

"By hearing the town-crier calling his papers; which could not have come in any other way."

"What does he say, papa?" queried Lulu. "I have listened as intently as possible many a time, but I never can make out more than a word or two, sometimes not that."

"No more can I," he answered, with a smile; "it sounds to me like 'The first news is um mum, and the second news is mum um mum, and the third news is um um mum."

The children all laughed.

"Yonder he is, coming this way," said Max, leaning from the carriage window.

"Beckon to him," said the captain; "I want a paper."

Max obeyed; the carriage stopped, the crier drew near and handed up the paper asked for.

"How much?" inquired the captain.

"Five cents, sir."

"Why, how is that? You asked me but three for yesterday's edition of this same paper."

"More news in this one."

"Ah, you charge according to the amount of news, do you?" returned the captain, laughing, and handing him a nickel.

"Yes, sir; I guess that's about the fair way," said the crier, hastily regaining the sidewalk to renew the clang, clang of his bell and the "um mum mum" of his announcement.

CHAPTER XII

"Wave high your torches on each crag and cliff.Let many lights blaze on our battlements;Shout to them in the pauses of the storm,And tell them there is hope."– Maturings "Bertram."

The evening was cool, and our whole party were gathered in the parlor of the cottage occupied by the Dinsmores and Travillas – games, fancy-work, reading, and conversation making the time fly.

Edward and Zoe had drawn a little apart from the others, and were conversing together in an undertone.

"Suppose we go out and promenade the veranda for a little," he said, presently. "I will get you a wrap and that knit affair for your head that I think so pretty and becoming."

"Crocheted," she corrected; "yes, I'm quite in the mood for a promenade with my husband; and I'm sure the air outside must be delightful. But you won't have to go farther than that stand in the corner for my things."

He brought them, wrapped the shawl carefully about her, and they went out.

Betty, looking after them, remarked aside to her Cousin Elsie, "How lover-like they are still!"

"Yes," Elsie said, with a glad smile: "they are very fond of each other, and it rejoices my heart to see it."

"And one might say exactly the same of the captain and Violet," pursued Betty, in a lower tone, and glancing toward that couple, as they sat side by side on the opposite sofa – Violet with her babe in her arms, the captain clucking and whistling to it, while it cooed and laughed in his face – Violet's ever-beautiful face more beautiful than its wont, with its expression of exceeding love and happiness as her glance rested now upon her husband and now upon her child.

"Yes," Elsie said again, watching them, with a joyous smile still wreathing her lips and shining in her eyes; "and it is just so with my dear Elsie and Lester. I am truly blest in seeing my children so well mated and so truly happy."

"Zoe, little wife," Edward was saying, out on the veranda, "can you spare me for a day or two?"

"Spare you, Ned? How do you mean?"

"I should like to join the boys – Bob, Harold, and Herbert – in a little trip on a sailing vessel which leaves here early to-morrow morning and will return on the evening of the next day or the next but one. I should ask my little wife to go with us, but, unfortunately, the vessel has no accommodations for ladies. What do you say, love? I shall not go without your consent."

"Thank you, you dear boy, for saying that," she responded, affectionately, squeezing the arm on which she leaned; "go if you want to; I know I can't help missing the kindest and dearest husband in the world, but I shall try to be happy in looking forward to the joy of reunion on your return."

"That's a dear," he said, bending down to kiss the ruby lips. "It is a great delight to meet after a short separation, and we should miss that entirely if we never parted at all."

"But oh, Ned, if anything should happen to you!" she said, in a quivering voice.

"Hush, hush, love," he answered, soothingly; "don't borrow trouble; remember we are under the same protection on the sea as on the land, and perhaps as safe on one as on the other."

"Yes; but when I am with you I share your danger, if there is any, and that is what I wish; for oh, Ned, I couldn't live without you!"

"I hope you may never have to try it, my darling," he said, in tender tones, "or I be called to endure the trial of having to live without you; yet we can hardly hope to go together.

"But let us not vex ourselves with useless fears. We have the promise, 'As thy days, so shall thy strength be.' And we know that nothing can befall us without the will of our Heavenly Father, whose love and compassion are infinite. 'We know that all things work together for good to them that love God.'"

"But if one is not at all sure of belonging to Him?" she said, in a voice so low that he barely caught the words.

"Then the way is open to come to Him. He says, 'Come unto me.' 'Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out.' The invitation is to you, love, as truly as if addressed to you alone; as truly as if you could hear His voice speaking the sweet words and see His kind eyes looking directly at you.

"It is my ardent wish, my most earnest, constant prayer, that my beloved wife may speedily learn to know, love, and trust in Him who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life!"

"You are so good, Ned! I wish I were worthy of such a husband," she murmured, half sighing as she spoke.

"Quite a mistake, Zoe," he replied, with unaffected humility; "to hear you talk so makes me feel like a hypocrite. I haves no righteousness of my own to plead, but, thanks be unto God, I may rejoice in the imputed righteousness of Christ! And that may be yours, too, love, for the asking.

"'Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.'

"They are the Master's own words; and He adds: 'For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.'"

Meanwhile the contemplated trip of the young men was under discussion in the parlor. "Dear me!" said Betty, who had just heard of it, "how much fun men and boys do have! Don't you wish you were one of them, Lulu?"

"No, I don't," returned Lulu, promptly. "I'd like to be allowed to do some of the things they do that we mustn't, but I don't want to be a boy."

"That is right," said her father; "there are few things so unpleasant to me as a masculine woman, who wishes herself a man and tries to ape the stronger, coarser sex in dress and manners. I hope my girls will always be content, and more than content, to be what God has made them."

"If you meant to hit me that time, captain," remarked Betty, in a lively tone, "let me tell you it was a miserable failure, for I don't wish I was a man, and never did. Coarse creatures, as you say – present company always excepted – who would want to be one of them."

"I'd never have anything to do with one of them if I were in your place,

Bet," laughed her brother.

"Perhaps I shouldn't, only that they seem a sort of necessary evil," she retorted. "But why don't you invite some of us ladies to go along?"

"Because you are not necessary evils," returned her brother, with a twinkle of fun in his eye.

"You should, one and all, have an invitation if we could make you comfortable," said Harold, gallantly: "but the vessel has absolutely no accommodations for ladies."

"Ah, then, you are excusable," returned Betty.

The young men left the next morning, after an early breakfast. Zoe and Betty drove down to the wharf with them to see them off, and watched the departing vessel till she disappeared from sight.

Zoe went home in tears, Betty doing her best to console her.

"Come, now, be a brave little woman; it's for only two or three days at the farthest. Why, I'd never get married if I thought I shouldn't be able to live so long without the fortunate man I bestowed my hand upon."

"Oh, you don't know anything about it, Betty!" sobbed Zoe. "Ned's all I have in the world, and it's so lonesome without him! And then, how do I know that he'll ever get back? A storm may come up and the vessel be wrecked."

"That's just possible," said Betty, "and it's great folly to make ourselves miserable over bare possibilities – things which may never happen."

"Oh, you are a great deal too wise for me!" said Zoe, in disgust.

"Oh," cried Betty, "if it's a pleasure and comfort to you to be miserable – to make yourself so by anticipating the worst – do so by all means. I have heard of people who are never happy but when they are miserable."

"But I am not one of that sort," said Zoe, in an aggrieved tone. "I am as happy as a lark when Ned is with me. Yes, and I'll show you that I can be cheerful even without him."

She accordingly wiped her eyes, put on a smile, and began talking in a sprightly way about the beauty of the sea as they looked upon it, with its waves dancing and sparkling in the brilliant light of the morning sun.

"What shall we do to-day?" queried Betty.

"Take a drive," said Zoe.

"Yes; I wish there was some new route or new place to go to."

"There's a pretty drive to the South Shore, that maybe you have not tried yet," suggested the hackman.

"South Shore? That's another name for Surfside, isn't it?" asked Betty.

"It's another part of the same side of the island I refer to," he answered. "It's a nice drive through the avenue of pines – a road the lovers are fond of – and if the south wind blows, as it does this morning, you have a fine surf to look at when you get there."

"If a drive is talked of to-day, let us propose this one, Zoe," said

Betty.

"Yes; I dare say it is as pleasant as any we could take," assented Zoe.

"I wish Edward was here to go with us."

Elsie, with her usual thoughtfulness for others, had been considering what could be done to prevent Zoe from feeling lonely in Edward's absence. She saw the hack draw up at the door, and meeting the young girls on the threshold with a bright face and pleasant smile: "You have seen the boys off?" she said, half inquiringly. "The weather is so favorable, that I think they can hardly fail to enjoy themselves greatly."

"Yes, mamma, I hope they will; but ah, a storm may come and wreck them before they can get back," sighed Zoe, furtively wiping away a tear.

"Possibly; but we won't be so foolish as to make ourselves unhappy by anticipating evils that may never come," was the cheery rejoinder. "The Edna has a skilful captain, a good crew, and is doubtless entirely seaworthy – at least so Edward assured me – and for the rest we must trust in Providence.

"Come in, now, and let me give you each a cup of coffee. Your breakfast with the boys was so early and so slight, that you may find appetite for a supplement," she added, sportively, as she led the way into the cosey little dining-room of the cottage, where they found a tempting repast spread especially for them, the others having already taken their morning meal.

"How nice in you, Cousin Elsie!" exclaimed Betty. "I wasn't expecting to eat another breakfast, but I find a rapidly coming appetite; these muffins and this coffee are so delicious."

"So they are," said Zoe. "I never knew anybody else quite so kindly thoughtful as mamma."

"I think I know several," Elsie rejoined; "but it is very pleasant to be so highly appreciated. Now, my dear girls, you will confer a favor if you will tell me in what way I can make the day pass most pleasantly to you."

"Thank you, cousin. It is a delightful morning for a drive, I think," said Betty; then went on to repeat what their hackman had said of the drive to the South Shore.

"It sounds pleasant. I think we will make up a party and try it," Elsie said. "You would like it, Zoe?"

"Yes, mamma, better than anything I know of beside. The man says that just there the beach has not been so thoroughly picked over for shells and other curiosities, and we may be able to find some worth having."

No one had made any special plans for the day, so all were ready to fall into this proposed by Zoe and Betty. Hacks were ordered – enough to hold all of their party now at hand – and they started.

They found the drive all it had been represented. For some distance their way lay along the bank of a long pond, pretty to look at and interesting as connected with old times and ways of life on the island. Their hackmen told them that formerly large flocks of sheep were raised by the inhabitants, and this pond was one of the places where the sheep were brought at a certain time of year to be washed and shorn. On arriving at their destination, they found a long stretch of sandy beach, with great thundering waves dashing upon it.