Miss Dexie Part 10

Aunt Jennie watched them depart with a prayer in her heart that some message might reach the heart of her careless brother-in-law, and she seemed to have had her prayer answered, for he was willing enough to attend the same church the following Sunday.

But Gussie was not attracted either by the sermon or the singing. Something else had to be the attraction to draw her out of a Sunday morning, unless she was urged with a persistency that would have moved a mule in the tantrums.

But when Mrs. Sherwood announced, one Sunday morning, that she would accompany the rest to church, Dexie felt that her happiness was complete.

She knew it was owing to Aunt Jennie's influence that her mother had put forth this extra exertion, and though it was Sunday, Dexie felt like dancing a jig around the floor, for her mother had become even more indifferent than her easy-going father in matters pertaining to religion.

In the Gurney household there was no day in the week so gladly welcomed as the Sabbath, and of a family containing so many young children this is no light thing to say.

In the first place, the little ones were so anxious not to lose any of the many extra treats that this glad day afforded them, that they put on their best behavior with their Sunday garments--and where is the person, little or big, that does not feel more important in his best clothes, and act accordingly.

Then instead of having breakfast in the nursery, with nurse at the head of the table, the family met around the one table, below stairs; and to the little ones this was a treat indeed. Having the children around him only one day in seven made it quite a change for Mr. Gurney also, though it wearied while it delighted him; and each succeeding Sunday he more fully realized the blessing he possessed in his good wife, for he had none of that patience and tact that is required to keep such a family in order.

Then on fine Sundays all the children went to church, except the two youngest, and the advent of a new member in the family was hailed with delight by one of the family at least; for of course a baby, however new, counted one, and it was warmly welcomed by the one who was thus raised to the dignity of a church-goer.

We must not forget the treat that was reserved for Sunday afternoons, for directly after Sunday-school there was sure to be in readiness for each member of the family a plate containing what the children called "goodies."

This was a mixture of confectionery, dates or figs, apples, nuts, pears or oranges, or other fruits as the season might be. As Dexie Sherwood was expected to spend this part of the day with the family, her plate was regularly prepared with the rest; and until the time that Lancy had made known his feelings for her, Dexie had enjoyed the _tete-a-tete_ which he always managed to arrange in some quiet corner. Even now she was not always able to avoid it, without being positively rude, for she could not make Elsie see that her presence was necessary when Lancy managed to give his sister the impression that it was otherwise; it was quite clear that Mother Gurney saw nothing amiss in Lancy's desire to take Dexie "somewhere out of the noise," for the little ones made much of their Sunday freedom.

It was during one of these Sunday afternoon chats that a better understanding was arrived at between Lancy and Dexie. They were sitting in the parlor, with a screen drawn between them and any chance observer, their plates on a small table near them, when Dexie playfully tossed over a piece of confectionery bearing the words, "You look unhappy."

Lancy looked up with such a tender look in his eyes that Dexie instantly repented her action, but it was too late, and she dropped her eyes to read the sweet messenger that fell in her lap, "You have my heart."

Dexie had no answer except, "Do forgive me," and she tossed it over with a look in her eyes that filled Lancy with an unutterable longing to take her in his arms.

"What shall I forgive you for?" he said, laying his hand on hers. "I am not unhappy, only when I see how you try to avoid me. I have kept my promise, and have not spoken a word that could annoy you. Why do you try never to be alone with me? It is hard to forgive you for that," he said, in a low tone.

"I did not mean anything by those silly candies; I was only in fun."

"Then you don't want to be forgiven, is that it? or do you mean that you are going to be good to me in the future?"

"I don't know what 'being good' implies, so I won't promise," she replied, smiling.

"It means that you will not act as if you were afraid to be alone with me a minute, and to talk to me as freely as you did before, well--before that snowstorm. You have never put your hand on my shoulder, and asked me to take you any place since then. You don't know how I miss the pleasant hours we used to spend together, or the delight I felt in the pressure of the hand that has never willingly touched mine since I spoke to you here in the parlor. The Dexie I knew a few weeks ago seems to have gone away, and I miss her very much, indeed."

"I can't be the same as I used to be, Lancy. Something is different, and I'm so afraid someone will make remarks about us if we are so much together as we used to be."

"What kind of remarks? tell me, Dexie. Something we would be ashamed to hear?" and he smiled into her distressed face.

"You know what I mean very well, Lancy, and I couldn't bear it."

"Did you ever hear any remarks before--before that snowstorm?"

"No! I never thought there was anything to make remarks about, but I have been looking at things differently lately."

"In what way, Dexie? Do tell me?" and he caught her hands in a firm clasp.

"Don't, Lancy! Please stop! There has been enough said and done already to make people talk if they knew about it."

"Only a few words, and one little kiss, that was all, Dexie. If the thought of what people might say keeps us apart, you are very foolish, for if we were never to speak to each other again we would be accused of having had a 'lover's quarrel,' so don't keep me at a distance any longer on that account. You are making us both miserable for nothing; for I don't believe you are enjoying yourself a bit under the new rule that you have set up.

Confess now, are you? honor bright, Dexie?" and he looked eagerly into her eyes.

"Well, no, Lancy," and she looked up with a smile. "It isn't quite so nice as it used to be, and I have stayed home several times when I wanted to go out. I am not shy, naturally, you know, and I would have asked for your escort if there had not been reasons to prevent me. Hugh has been very anxious to show his gallantry, but nothing would tempt me to go three steps with that big Frenchman."

"Well, I wish Hugh could hear you say that, Dexie, for I was beginning to feel jealous. He talks so much about you I was afraid he had entered the lists against me."

"Lancy, what nonsense you talk! Hugh is Gussie's particular property. What made you fancy that I had stepped into her shoes?"

"Nothing that need vex you, Dexie, so don't frown; but he told me in confidence, you know, that you were--but there; it was in confidence, so I won't repeat what he said. I know he cares more for you than for Gussie, and the fact don't please me very well."

Dexie was silent for some minutes. The remembrance of certain looks and speeches that Hugh had lately addressed to her were now explained; he thought she had quarrelled with Lancy, and he was anxious to take Lancy's place. She lifted her eyes, saying:

"Hugh shall have no chance to think any such a thing. But I know how it has happened. Gussie had no eyes for anyone else while that Plaisted was here, so I had to entertain Hugh occasionally; but dear me! how soft he must be, if my foolish songs have turned his brain."

And then, looking shyly into his eyes, she added, "I won't run away from you any more, Lancy. We will go back to our old ways, but don't talk any more nonsense to me, and we will be chums again. Is it a bargain, Lancy?"

Lancy bent nearer to the curly head that was bent to hide her blus.h.i.+ng face, then, seizing her hands, held her close as he whispered, in a tender voice:

"That's my Dexie back again! I won't annoy you with words, but you know what my feelings are for you all the same. Now, seal the bargain, Dexie,"

and he turned her face to his.

Well, the perversity of girls! is there anything equal to it? Must it really be confessed that the girl who thought that one little stolen kiss was worth crying over should raise her pretty mouth to receive a much longer caress; yes, and enjoy it, too! But there! come to think of it, that first kiss in the parlor was a one-sided affair, reluctantly received; and a one-sided kiss is like--is like--well, whatever is it like? We give it up!

CHAPTER XII.

Returning home by way of Eastport, Mr. Sherwood took pa.s.sage in a vessel bound for Londonderry, a small seaport on the Bay of Fundy, and from there he travelled by stage to Truro, where he took the train for Halifax.

While on the train an incident took place which, while affording amus.e.m.e.nt for the pa.s.sengers, led to after-results that were quite surprising to the Sherwoods.

It seems that a countryman, hailing from Prince Edward Island, had accompanied the vessel in which he had s.h.i.+pped the surplus oats and potatoes that had grown on his farm, and the vessel had arrived in Halifax a few days previously. This being his first trip "abroad," he had determined to see all the sights which the city of Halifax afforded while he waited for the vessel to discharge her cargo and prepare for the return trip to Charlottetown.

His innocent air soon attracted the attention of some sharpers, or "confidence men," as they would have been termed in a later day, and thinking he had met the "gentry for shure" in the well-dressed scamps that were so friendly to him, the countryman willingly accompanied them to an uptown resort, where he was treated to drugged liquor, and then robbed of the tidy sum that the sale of his produce had brought him. Then, adding insult to injury, they had taken him to the depot, and, placing a ticket for Truro in his hatband, they put him on board the cars and left him to his fate.

He was put off the train at Truro in a dazed condition, and pa.s.sed the night in some out-of-the-way corner of the freight house, where he slept off the effect of the liquor.

His alarm and astonishment when he came to himself and found he was alone and in a strange place, and with empty pockets, was both painful and ludicrous to witness. His distress seemed all the greater in that he had not the faintest idea where he was or how to get back to his vessel waiting alongside the wharf in Halifax.

It took some time to make his story understood, but when it became known to the men about the depot they gave him a good breakfast, and determined to get him "dead-headed" to the city, as the farmer felt sure he could easily find the thieves and recover his money if he once got back to Halifax. He had never seen a train of cars in his life, being too drunk the night before to know how he was travelling; so when the train steamed into the depot next morning, after announcing its approach by ear-splitting shrieks, he dropped out of sight behind a pile of boxes, thinking that some wild creature was let loose upon the streets. Before he could collect his scattered senses he was seized by strong hands and stowed away in a corner of a freight car, where, upon bags of potatoes, he was told to "sit down and keep out of sight." For the first few miles he literally obeyed the injunction, for he shook and trembled with fright, and with every shriek of the engine he ducked his head, thinking his very life was in danger; but as time went by and he still found himself whole and uninjured, he took courage, and sat up and looked about him as well as the dim and close car would permit. By and by the motion of the car caused the door to slide open a few inches, for, fortunately or unfortunately, the door had been left unlocked, so he crawled cautiously forward and peered through the opening, wondering greatly at the frightful speed of the "animal" that was drawing them along, but he concluded that it was "michty encouragin'," for at the pace they were going he would soon be within reach of the rascals who had emptied his pockets.

Not content to let well enough alone, he disregarded the injunction given him to "stay there," and when the train stopped for a few minutes at Shubenacadie, a station on the line, he stepped out on the platform to have a look about him; but not being quick or daring enough to step back on the moving train, he came very near losing his ride.

Fortunately, one of the train hands who had befriended him at first, saw him as the train moved along, and pulled him aboard the second-cla.s.s car as it pa.s.sed them.

Having previously been stowed away among the freight, he had no idea of the accommodation for travellers behind him, and the sight of so many people, sitting quietly on the seats, filled him with awe.

But the good-natured brakeman now drew him inside the car, intending to place his wandering friend back into his former quarters as soon as the train stopped at the next station.