Читать книгу The Gordon Elopement - Carolyn Wells - Страница 5

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It was about three o’clock on Thursday afternoon when the Gordons reached Rumford Falls. To him who is familiar with the railroad stations of Maine this particular one is not different from the others. There is a long, low, rakish craft of a building which does duty as a freight-shed and a waiting-room. There is a platform which is made of planks. The planks have seen better days, and, being of elm, spruce and pine hopelessly intermingled, they turn up at the ends and buckle up in the middle, presenting stumbling-blocks for the feet of the unwary. The Maine station platform is a warped affair. The one at Rumford was no exception, and when the Gordons climbed down from the car in which they had travelled from Portland, Robert remarked that the station platform looked as if there were a heavy sea running. “I wonder if there is a boatman hereabouts?” he inquired of Grace.

“There’s a barge that looks as though it might belong to a hotel,” she said.

“Please do not jest upon such serious subjects,” said Robert. “It is bad enough as it is. Ho! ferryman!” he called to the man who stood beside the horses.

“Ay, ay, sir!”

The man who responded to Robert’s call was short, thick, broad, very brown as to his whiskers, and very stolid as to his appearance. His eyes were deep set, and over them there were bunches of bushy hair. Straggling from beneath a weather-beaten sou’wester came locks of faded gray hair that threatened to curl at the ends. His clothing matched his hair. He wore no coat or waistcoat. His trousers were of oilskin, and were held in place by a belt with a buckle showing the eagle and the stars—such a belt as was worn by the soldiers when they went to war.

“Where ye bound?” he asked.

“We are looking for a hotel,” said Robert. “Is there one here?”

“Not exactly as ye might say here, but there’s one up th’ ro-ad a piece.”

“Good hotel?”

“Best in Maine.”

“Then we’ll go there. Will you take us?”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Grace’s trunk was strapped on the back of the barge. The Gordons climbed in, Robert on the seat with the driver and Grace on the seat behind. They started out from the station and drove through the main street of the little village. On the bank of the river stood a great factory. “What do they make in that place?” asked Robert.

“Paper,” said the driver.

“Much manufacturin’ here?”

“Some.”

“What is the chief industry?”

“Paper.”

“Do they make much of it?”

“They don’t do nothin’ else.”

So they drove on through the town and out into a woodland road that seemed to plunge into a forest which grew deeper and darker as they went on.

“Is the hotel very far away?” asked Robert.

“Quite a piece,” said the driver.

“Oh,” said Grace, “what a long, rough road! Shall we get there before dark, Mr.—”

“Haskins; Cap’n Haskins; schooner Sally, whaler out o’ Nantucket.”

“Why did you give up whaling?” inquired Robert.

“Whale bit my leg off,” said Cap’n Haskins.

For three hours they drove through alternate wood and clearing. To Grace the time seemed interminable, but when they finally came into a clearing larger than the rest and she saw before her a theatrical sort of lake, glimmering under the setting sun and bordered by the shadows of great pines and spruces, she was satisfied and she exclaimed in delight at the scene before her. Standing well back from the lake, set in a lawn of brilliant green, and surrounded by masses of spring flowers, was a great hotel. The broad verandas seemed to give welcome. The large windows gave promise of light and airy rooms. The whole aspect of the place suggested more and better comfort than is usually found in summer hotels.

“What a beautiful spot!” cried Grace. “I didn’t think we were coming to such a tremendous hotel.”

“How many guests does it accommodate?” asked Robert.

“‘Bout eight hundred,” replied Cap’n Haskins.

“Oh, I wish we hadn’t come,” said Grace. “How can we go into a hotel like that with only one trunk?”

“It doesn’t look like a one-trunk hotel,” said Robert, “but you would come here.”

“And I’m glad I did,” said Grace.

Cap’n Haskins drove up to the entrance with a flourish. Two porters in uniform came out to fetch in the trunk. A boy with shining buttons came to take the smaller luggage.

Robert, not sharing Grace’s feeling of embarrassment, walked boldly up to the desk. The clerk turned the register toward him and handed him the pen. Robert looked over the register. “What day is this?” he asked.

“Thursday, the 18th of July,” said the clerk.

Robert turned back the leaf. The last entry was under date of May 29th, and the name was that of the president of the Foxboro, Umbagog and Pacific Railroad Company.

Surprised, but making no remark, Robert registered. “Can you give us rooms facing the lake?” he asked.

“I can give you two pleasant ones on the second floor.”

“That will do,” said Robert.

Alone in their rooms, Grace said to Robert: “Does it seem strange to you that we haven’t seen any one about?”

“Why, there were a lot of people in the halls.”

“Yes, bellboys and things; but I mean guests.”

“Weren’t there any? Well, you’ll see plenty later. I suppose I’ve got to dress up for dinner.”

“Why, of course. I won’t go down with you if you don’t.”

They went down to the dining-room and were shown to a table near a window overlooking the lake. “This is very delightful,” said Grace, “but how strange that nobody else is down yet.”

“Yes, they seem to dine very late for summer hotel guests. It’s after eight now.”

The dinner was perfectly appointed and carefully served.

“Aren’t you glad we came?” exclaimed Grace, looking with satisfaction out over the lake.

“Yes; but where do you suppose all the people are?”

“Never mind the people. Just look at that moon rippling the lake with silver.”

“Yes, it’s great; but look at this room full of tables, loaded with flowers, and waiters, and nobody eating but us.”

“It is funny,” said Grace; “what do you suppose it means?”

“It either means that the guests have all left or that they haven’t come yet.”

“But it’s too early in the season for them to have left, and too late for them to haven’t come.”

Leaving the dining-room, the Gordons went out on the veranda. Again Grace exclaimed at the beauty of her surroundings, and again Robert expressed surprise at the vacant veranda chairs and empty hammocks, the unused boats, and the deserted paths.

“It’s weird,” said Grace, with a shiver.

“It’s worse than that,” said Robert; “it’s confounded queer, and I don’t understand it!”