Lost Farm Camp Part 25

It was as sterling, as unbending as her love for truth, and the name of Ross. She realized a lack in herself of certain superficial qualities of grace and subtlety, and immediately prepared herself to antic.i.p.ate his slightest wish, as though she had not been unconsciously doing that since he was a youngster in knickerbockers.

The sun-ray through the shutters swung higher in the room. It touched a bra.s.s ornament and wavered in a tangent to the ceiling, where it s.h.i.+mmered and changed like moving water. She gazed dreamily toward the window, then nodded, recovered herself as a carriage rolled easily past, the hoof-beats of the horses m.u.f.fled by the over-heated asphalt pavement. She nodded again, and finally her eyes closed in sleep.

The maid's tap at the door awakened her suddenly. "The carriage is here, Miss Ross."

"Gracious me! I had no idea it was so late."

A half-hour later David was in the carriage with her, as they drove homeward.

"Why, Davy, you act as though I hadn't seen you for a fortnight," she exclaimed, as he kissed her. "The idea of kissing me right on the street with those two nurses and the doctor grinning on the steps."

"Well, auntie, they can't see us now," he exclaimed, as he kissed her again. "Tell William to drive as slowly as he likes. I don't want to see a bed again for ages."

She flushed happily and patted his hand. "So you are really going to stay with your old aunt for a while and not run off to the woods again and get-have something horrible happen to you?"

"No. I have too much to do here," he replied. "I wonder-did you see any letters for me-?"

"Only three, Davy. Two of them are apparently from your Mr. Avery, judging by the post-mark-Tramworth-and the handwriting on the envelopes.

The other had Bernard, White & Bas...o...b..s return address on it. I called up Walter Bas...o...b..and told him the doctor had forbidden you any excitement or business. He said the letter was of no particular importance."

"Yes," said David, gazing at the familiar buildings as they drove along in the cool of the evening. "By the way, Aunt Bess, did you happen to find a little brown box among my things?"

"No, Davy. I looked over everything carefully. I don't remember having seen it. There were some things came from a hotel downtown. They telephoned to me. I told them to send the things, and your bill."

"That's so. I'd forgotten about that hotel."

He was silent until they reached the house, where he politely refused William's proffered a.s.sistance up the steps. He took his aunt's arm playfully; "Just as though I needed to," he said. "I'll keep you busy enough, William, for I'll need the carriage every day now."

After dinner, while they were sitting in the unlighted drawing-room, he asked for his letters. "I'll get them," he said, springing up, but his aunt restrained him with gentle insistence.

"Davy, you mustn't jump up like that till you're stronger."

She brought the letters and turned on the lights, coming to him anxiously as she noted the accentuated pallor caused by his attempt to forestall her courtesy.

"Thank you. You'll excuse me, won't you, but I'm anxious about Avery and Smoke."

"Smoke?"

"Yes. Wallie's bull-terrier."

"Oh, yes, I remember."

He opened one of the letters and read slowly, his brows drawn together in an effort to decipher his partner's chirography. "Listen to this, Aunt Bess. Talk about dogs remembering things."

He turned back to the first page of the letter and began:-

Lost Farm Camp, June 18.

Dave Ross dear sir, Jim Cameron come Up nex day after you went bein curious to find what becom of Smoke. I thought he would never Git his tong back in his hed he was pantin from runnin Clean from Tramworth I guess, and a piece of rope on his coler.

Jim says he drov from the Station and was Jest pa.s.sin hikes house What owns the Dog what barks at everything includin hisself And Smoke was jest Finis.h.i.+n off the dog when Jim Hollered Smoke and he quit. Jim says he knowed it was Smoke by the Red ticket tied to him but Smoke lit out fur here and me and Swickey was Sleepin when she hearn Smoke scratchin the Door.

Hikes Dog chawed Some of the Ticket but I reckon it is good yit.

and Swickey grabbed Smoke Around the neck and Took him To bed cryin and laffin. We got Smoke alright And if the Surveior wants him I kin s.h.i.+p him but I Thought you would Rite and say so.

Swickey is kind of quiet like mostly sense you went. Hoping this Finds you in Good health as it leaves me yours truly

---- JOHN AVERY.

"My goodness! And that's your friend at Lost Farm. No wonder he wants you to teach his daughter, David. Do you really enjoy living with such people?"

"It isn't just the people, Aunt Bess. It's the place, the surroundings, the simplicity of everything-and it's big. Boston isn't big, it's just complex."

Miss Ross sighed, endeavoring to understand her nephew's rather unintelligible distinction.

"I know I can't explain it, Aunt Elizabeth. One can feel the difference, though. There's room to breathe in up there."

She smiled at his enthusiasm for the North Country, with a sincere grat.i.tude that he was able to feel enthusiasm for anything after his prolonged sickness.

"This is not so long," he said, turning the page of another letter from Avery. "Mostly business." He frowned and re-read the sheet. "Pshaw! I don't like that. It's too much like trickery. By the way, auntie, do you happen to know where Wallie Bas...o...b..has been this summer?"

"Bessie told me he had gone into the woods again. She mentioned it when she brought the roses."

"Oh, those were Bessie's roses then? You didn't tell me, you know."

"She asked me to say nothing about it. It quite slipped out, David. I'm sorry."

He gazed at his aunt curiously for a moment. "It was nice of Bessie. I didn't think she cared enough-"

"That's because young people are so self-centred and blind, David;-especially young men who are apt to be a trifle masterly, in some ways."

"I suppose you mean me?" he replied, laughing.

"Davy lad," she said, her wrinkled face alight with an old hope revived, "David, do you really care for Bessie?"

"Of course I do," he answered promptly. "She's a jolly good girl. I admire her lots."

His aunt smiled again. "I didn't mean that way, David."

He crumpled the letter in his hand and thrust it in his pocket. "Well, I did care-once."

"Don't you now?"

He hesitated, staring at his white fingers. "I don't know exactly. I think not. You see Wallie and his father know enough about my plans, and I about theirs, to make it difficult for anything of that kind. Frankly, I'm fighting them for a fortune. It's up there," he continued, gesturing toward the north. "They want it and we've got it. They're going to make trouble for us if they can. They'll do it politely enough, of course, but-wait a minute-" He tore the third letter open and glanced at it hastily.

"I thought so. I left that box of asbestos samples in Bas...o...b..s office that day...."

He took Avery's second letter from his pocket again and smoothed it on his knee.

"... so not hearin' from you I sot still and waited. Long Come young Gla.s.s-eyes perlite as axel-greas and said the railrud were goin to cross five mile below Lost Farm. I tole him I knowed that fur a considable spell. He looked Supprised a minit and then said he was willin to stick by the fust deal and pay me my figer fur the land I tole him You was Boss on that s.h.i.+ft and he said you was sick. I reckoned he was talkin strait seein I aint heard from you he giggered His feet around a spell and said all right and I will take Smoke Back to Tramworth. Reckon he Must a tried tien him in the baggage-car same as you done For Smoke was back here nex mornin Smilin al over. Smoke did not bring No Ticket back This trip so mebby he did not git as fur as the Station. Sense you ben gone Swickey she is took with the idea of goin to Tramworth to scule nex fall.... Hopin this finds you in good health as it leaves me yours truly

---- JOHN AVERY."