however and despite her declaration to the contrary it was a most welcome “toot” which sounded along the deck and announced to the hungry voyagers that dinner was served; and molly was among the first to spring up and hurry her father tableward.
“seems as if i’d never had anything to eat in all my life!” she exclaimed. “come on, dolly doodles, you must be actually famished.”
“i am pretty hungry,” admitted dorothy; but mindful now of her recent resolve to do everything as miss greatorex would have her, she waited until that lady rose from her steamer chair, gathered her wraps about her, and anxiously inquired of mrs. hungerford:
“will it be safe to leave my rug behind? or should i carry it with me to table?”
“oh! leave it, by all means. there’s none too much room below and i never worry about my things. lay it on your chair and that will prove to anybody who comes along that your especial seat [pg 74]is ‘reserved.’ i’m leaving mine, you see;” answered the more experienced traveler, wondering if miss isobel’s nervousness would not prove a most unpleasant factor in their vacation fun. also thinking that she had too readily given consent to molly’s written plea: that dorothy and a teacher should be invited to join them on this trip.
because there had been some question as to where the girl should pass the long vacation. deerhurst would not be open, even if mrs. calvert had expressed any desire for a visit from dorothy, which she had not. the old gentlewoman was to spend that season at the white sulphur springs, whither she had been in the habit of going during many years; and where among other old aristocrats she queened it at their own exclusive hotel.
the mountain cottage would, of course, be in the hands of the martin family, and mother martha had not approved dorothy’s coming to baltimore and passing the heated term there with herself. indeed, deep in the little woman’s heart was a resentment against the unknown benefactor who was now supporting her adopted child and sending her to such an expensive school. as she complained to the aged relative with whom she now lived:
“i feel, aunt chloe, that i’ve been meanly treated. i’ve had all the care of dorothy through her growing up and having the measles, scarlet fever, whooping cough, and all the other children’s diseases. i’ve sewed for her, and washed and ironed for her, and taught her all the useful things she [pg 75]knows; yet now, just as she is big enough to be some company and comfort—off she’s snatched and i not even told by whom. i doubt if john knows, either, though he won’t say one way or other, except that ‘it’s all right and he knows it.’ so i say i shan’t worry; and i wouldn’t think it right, anyway, for her to come down south if only this far after being north for so long.”
seth winters had not come back to his beloved mountain, so that she could not go to him; and the only thing that was left was to go to her father at his sanitorium or remain with miss rhinelander.
neither of these plans was satisfactory. father john did not want her to pass her holidays in an atmosphere of illness; and miss rhinelander craved freedom and rest for herself. there were still extensive repairs to be made to the academy and she wished to superintend them.
finally, molly breckenridge had taken the matter in hand with the result related; and with the one unlooked for feature, the presence of miss greatorex where miss penelope had been desired.
however, here they all were at last; a few hours outward bound on their short ocean trip and looking forward to the most enjoyable of summers in lovely nova scotia. they were to make a complete tour of the province, then settle down in some quiet place near the fishing and hunting grounds where the judge would go into camp.
molly was thankful that her table-seat was well removed from that of captain murray at its head. [pg 76]but she soon found that she need not have worried, and that the closer she could be to him—when he was off duty—the better she would like it. this wasn’t the austere officer in command! who told such amusing tales of life at sea, who kept his guests so interested and absorbed, and who so solicitously watched his waiters lest anybody’s wants should be unsupplied! no, indeed. he was simply a most courteous host and delightful talker, and before that first meal was over she had forgotten her dislike of him, and, after her impulsive manner had “fallen in love” with him.
then back to the deck, to watch the moon rise and to settle themselves comfortably for a long and happy evening; and after awhile, begged molly:
“now, papa darling, if your dinner’s ‘settled,’ please to sing. remember i haven’t heard you do so in almost a year.”
“now, my love, you don’t expect me to make an orchestra of myself, i hope? i notice they haven’t one aboard this little steamship. nobody but melvin to make music for us. i must tell you girls about that lad. he—”
“never mind him now, papa. he will keep. he can wait. but i do want you to sing! dorothy, go take that chair on papa’s other side; and here comes number eight with more rugs. wouldn’t think it could be so cool, almost cold, would you, after that dreadful heat back there in new york? now, sir, begin!” and the judge’s [pg 77]adoring “domestic tyrant” patted his hand with great impatience.
“very well, miss tease. only it must be softly, so as not to disturb other people who may not have as great fancy for my warbling as you have.”
mrs. hungerford leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes in great content. like his daughter she thought there was no sweeter singer anywhere than her beloved brother; but the too-correct miss isobel drew herself stiffly erect with an unspoken protest against this odd proceeding. she was quite sure that it wasn’t good form for anybody to sing in such a public place and under such circumstances. least of all a judge. a judge of the supreme court! more than ever was she amazed when he began with a college song: “my bonnie lies over the ocean,” in which molly presently joined and, after a moment, dorothy also.
but even her primness could not withstand the witchery of the gentleman’s superb tenor voice, with its high culture and feeling; because even into that humdrum refrain he put a pathos and longing which quite transformed it.
people sitting within hearing hitched their chairs nearer, but softly—not to disturb the singers; who sang on quietly, unconsciously, as if in their own private home. drifting from one song to another, with little pauses between and always beginning by a suggestive note from molly, the time passed unperceived.
evidently, father and child had thus sung together [pg 78]during all their lives; and long before her that “other molly,” her dead mother, of whom his child was the very counterpart, had also joined her exquisite tones to his. into many melodies they passed, college songs left behind, and deeper feelings stirred by the words they uttered; till finally perceiving that his own mood was growing most un-holiday like, the judge suddenly burst forth with “john brown’s body.”
then, indeed, did mirth and jollification begin. far and near, all sorts and conditions of voices caught up the old melody and added their quota to the music; and when their leader began mischievously to alter the refrain by dropping the last word, and shortening it each time by one word less, delight was general and the fun waxed fast and furious.
the abrupt termination left many a singer in the lurch; and when the last verse was sung and ended only with “john—,” “john—,” “john,” there were still some who wandered on into “the grave” and had to join in the laugh their want of observation had brought upon them.
by this time also miss isobel greatorex had become quite resigned to a proceeding which no other passenger had disapproved and which, she could but confess, had added a charm to that never-to-be-forgotten evening. moonlight flooded the sea and the deck. the simplicity and good-fellowship of judge breckenridge and his sister had brought all these strangers into a harmony which bridged all distinctions [pg 79]of class or interest and rendered that first night afloat a most happy one for all.
until—was the moonlight growing clouded? did those six strokes of the bell actually mean eleven o’clock? so late—and suddenly so—so—so queer!
even if the little concert had not already ended nobody could have sung just then.
“i guess we’ve left the sound and struck the ocean;” remarked one gentleman, in a peculiar tone. “good night all,” and he disappeared.
a lady next miss greatorex made an effort to extricate herself from her rugs and chair and observed:
“i’ve such a curious feeling. so—so dizzy. my head swims. is—is there a different—motion to the boat? have you noticed?”
yes, miss greatorex had noticed, but she couldn’t reply just then. nor was this because of her “stiffness” toward a person who had not been properly “introduced.” it was simply that—that—dear, dear! she felt so very queer herself. she would try and get to her stateroom. in any case it was very late and everybody was moving.
a petulant cry from molly expressed her own desires exactly.
“papa, dear papa! what makes the folks go wobbling around the way they do? i wish they wouldn’t! i wish they would—would keep real—perfectly—still! i wish! oh! dear!”
[pg 80]the judge rose at once and, despite her size, caught up his daughter and marched off with her toward mrs. hungerford’s stateroom, whither that experienced voyager had as suddenly preceded him. when he came back, a few minutes later, he found that miss greatorex had vanished, and that dorothy sat alone on the deserted deck wondering what in the world was the matter to make everybody rush off at once, or almost everybody. wondering whether she should follow, and if her guardian would return and need her rugs again; yet placidly thinking over the delightful evening she had spent and how strange it was for her, “just plain dorothy,” to be having such a splendid trip in such charming company.
“well, lassie, are you all right? don’t you feel a ‘little queer,’ too?”
“yes, thank you, judge breckenridge. i’m right enough but i don’t know whether miss greatorex wants me to come to our room now or whether she’ll need her things again. she went away in a great hurry, seems if; and so—so did ’most everybody else. funny for them all to get sleepy just in a minute so.”
the old traveler laughed and patted dorothy’s shoulder.
“a ‘fog swell’ is what we’ve struck. that explains the darkness and the hasty departure of our neighbors. seasick, poor creatures! and no suffering worse, while it lasts. sure you aren’t yourself, dorothy?”
[pg 81]“no. i don’t feel any different from ever, yet, judge breckenridge.”
“good enough. i’m mighty glad for you. poor little moll will be apt to have a sorry time of it until we reach yarmouth and land. by the way, lassie, i observe that you’ve been well trained to give a person their name and title when you speak to them. but we’re on our holiday now, you know, and mustn’t work more than we can help. so, my dear, suppose you call me uncle schuy, or simply uncle, while we are together. ‘judge breckenridge’ is considerable of a mouthful for a small maid who, i hope, will have to address me a great many times. i shall find it pleasant to be ‘uncled’ for i greatly miss our boy, tom.”
he did not add, as he might, that some pity mingled in this desire. coming unobserved upon the little figure sitting alone in the steamer-chair, amid a pile of rugs which almost hid her from sight, deserted, and possibly also in the throes of illness, he had resolved to make her time with him and his as happy as he could. he would have done this under any circumstances; but molly’s fervid description of dorothy’s orphanage and ignorance of her real parentage had touched him profoundly.
loving his own little daughter beyond all others in the world he loved this deserted child for molly’s sake; and felt that he should promptly love her for her own.
sitting down again beside her he covered himself [pg 82]with rugs and begged permission to smoke; remarking:
“it’s a shame to keep you up longer but i fancy that your stateroom wouldn’t be very pleasant just now. it’s next to my sister’s, you know, and i saw number eight coming out of it with considerable haste. miss greatorex is probably ill, but should be better once she gets settled in bed. then you must go and also get to rest. quite likely you’ll be the only little girl-companion i’ll have for the rest of the trip. i was afraid molly would make a poor sailor, and she’s proving me correct. my sister, though, never suffers from seasickness and is a charming traveling companion as you’ll find.”
he relapsed into silence and a great drowsiness began to overpower dorothy. her day had been long and most eventful and the sea air was strong. presently, her head drooped against the back of her chair, the judge grew indistinct in her sight, and she fell asleep.
he considered then what was best to do; and presently decided that, if she wasn’t sent for, she might well and safely pass the night on deck as he intended to do.
indeed, so often had he voyaged on that ship that its employees had learned his wishes without telling; and now there came to him one number seven, his own room attendant, bringing a pillow and more rugs. he was dispatched for another pillow and between them they gently lowered the [pg 83]back of dorothy’s chair, placed a pillow under her unconscious head and tucked her warmly in. then he settled himself to rest and neither of them knew distinctly anything more until the daylight came and the sunshine struggled with the enwrapping fog.
she, indeed, had had vague dreams of what went on about her. had heard muffled bells and passing footsteps, but these had mingled only pleasantly with her sense of rest and happiness; and it was a very surprised young person who at last opened her eyes upon a gray expanse of mist-covered ocean and a gray-haired man asleep on a chair beside her.
sitting up, she stared about her for a moment till she realized what had happened; then smiled to think she had actually slept out of doors. afterward, she wondered with some anxiety if miss greatorex had sent for her during the night, or if she were still too ill to care about anybody save herself.
“anyhow, i must go and see. my! how damp these rugs are and yet i am as warm as can be. that’s what dear miss penelope said she meant to do—sleep on deck. but she didn’t come and i’ve done it in her stead. what a queer world it is and how things do get twisted round! now i must be still as still and not wake that dear judge—‘uncle’, who’s so lovely to me!”
with these thoughts she slipped softly out of her rugs and tiptoed away, having some slight trouble to locate “number thirteen” stateroom; and, having [pg 84]done so, discovered its door ajar, fastened against intrusion by a chain.
she peeped through the opening. miss isobel lay with her eyes closed, but whether asleep or not dorothy couldn’t decide. she was very pale and perfectly motionless, and a too-suggestive tin basin was fastened to the railing of her berth.
“ugh! i can’t go in there and wake her, if she’s asleep; or to go any way. i’ll slip around to this other side the boat where there are such heaps of chairs and nobody in them. my! it’s cold and i haven’t anything to put over me here. never mind, i’ll stay. if i go back to where i was i might wake judge breckenridge, and i shouldn’t like to do that. i don’t wonder molly called him a handsome man. he looked better than handsome to me, sleeping there, he looked noble.”
thus reflecting she settled herself on a chair against the inner wall and watched the men at work mopping the wet decks and putting the steamer generally “ship-shape” against the day’s voyage. it was a forlorn outlook into the world of fog, through which the sound of the bells rang strangely. also, there was an almost continuous blowing of whistles and a look of some anxiety on the faces of such of the crew as passed by.
finally, out of some far-off stairway, young bugler melvin came tripping and hurried along the deck in her direction. she fancied a look of surprise in his eyes as he perceived her and that he would pass on without further notice. yet, just as [pg 85]he reached a point opposite her chair, he flashed one glance toward her; and almost as quickly turned about to retrace his steps. shivering and rather miserable she watched him idly, and now the surprise was her own.
he returned and still without speaking, yet with an almost painful flush on his face, tossed two heavy rugs into her lap and instantly passed on. she had no chance to thank him, but readily answered a laugh from a deck-hand near by who had witnessed the little incident and enjoyed it. the “bashful bugler” was melvin’s shipboard nickname and no lad ever better deserved such. yet he had been well “raised” and there was something very appealing to the chivalry of any lad in the look of dorothy’s just now sad eyes; though commonly their brown depths held only sunshine.
the sweeper on the deck moved the chairs near her and even her own, though without her leaving it, the better to clear off the moisture which the fog had deposited. she had echoed his laugh and he remarked:
“nice boy, ‘bashful’ is; but no more fitted to go round ’mongst strangers’n a picked chicken.”
both the sailor and dorothy were glad to speak with anybody, and she asked:
“will this fog last long? is it often so cold right in the summer time?”
“cold enough to freeze the legs off an iron pot, slathers of times. this is one of ’em! as for fogs lastin’, i reckon, little miss, there won’t be no more [pg 86]sunshine ’twixt here and yarmouth harbor. if you’re cold out here though, and don’t want to go to your room, you’ll find things snug down yonder in that music-room, or what you call it.”
“oh! is there a place? under shelter? will you show me?”
“sure. if ’tis open yet. sometimes it’s shut overnight but likely not now. i’ll take them rugs for you, sissy, if you like.”
“thank you. thank you so much. how nice everybody is on a steamship! is it living all the time on the water makes you kind, i wonder?”
“give it up!” answered this able seaman, not a little flattered by dorothy’s appreciation of his service, and in molly’s own frequent manner. with another smile at this memory, dorothy followed as he walked ahead, dragging his mop behind him and leaving a shining streak in his wake.
they found the little saloon, music-room, writing-room, or “what you call it,” closed, but the door opened readily enough, and dorothy was delighted to creep within the warmth and comfort of the place. it was dark inside but the man turned on the electric light, and, doffing his cap, went out, shut the door behind him, and left her to her solitary enjoyment.
“what a pretty room! how cozy and warm! i’m going to cuddle down in this easy chair and take another nap. there’s nobody stirring much and i heard one man say to another that there were more folks sick this trip than had been all summer. [pg 87]i wonder if poor molly is yet! i’d go and see only i don’t want to disturb mrs. hungerford.
“now, dorothy girl, shut your eyes and don’t open them again till breakfast time. i am awfully disappointed. i’d counted upon watching the sun rise over the ocean and was going to get up so early to do it: huh! i’m early enough, but the poor sun is taking a bath and can’t be seen.”
artificial heat had been turned into the room which accounted for the warmth she found so grateful. this, succeeding her shivering fit, made her drowsy and she shut her eyes “just for forty winks.” but a good many times “forty” had passed before she opened them once more and found herself still alone. she got up and looked about her, thinking that she must go to “number thirteen” and bathe her face and hands, though not much more than that could be accomplished in such limited quarters. she’d go in just a minute. meanwhile there was a piano. she’d like to try it, though her lessons on that instrument had been but few. however—
“oh! joy! there’s a violin case on the shelf yonder! i’m going to look at it. if there’s a violin inside—there is! i’d love, just love to try that, far more than a jingling piano. i wonder would anybody hear me? i don’t believe so. it’s so far away. i’m going to—i am!”
with a fiddle once more under her chin dorothy forgot all but that happy fact. delicately and timidly at first, she drew her bow across the strings, [pg 88]fearing an interruption; but when none came she gathered boldness and played as she would have done in herr von peter’s own helpful presence.
how long she stood there, swaying to her own music, enwrapped in it and no longer lonely, she didn’t know; but after a time the minor chords of her last and “loveliest lesson” were rudely broken in upon by other strains which cut short her practicing and set her face toward the door.
there stood the “bashful bugler” tooting his “first call to breakfast” directly toward her, and her response was a crash of discord from the violin. the effect upon melvin was to make him lower his bugle and flash out of sight as if propelled by a hurricane.
