Читать книгу The Fighting-Slogan - H. A. Cody - Страница 13

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The generous fire-place sent out its genial heat, making the cellar-kitchen a comfortable and a cosy place. Two large pots suspended from hooks on the swinging crane emitted a savoury odour, telling that dinner was well on the way. From time to time Nell left her ironing at a table in the middle of the room, lifted the covers and examined the contents. Andy Dooner's eyes beamed with pleasure as he occasionally looked at her from his bench at the right of the fire where he sat "whipping the cat," as his craft was commonly termed. He noted the briskness of her step, the neatness of her dress, and the gracefulness of her every movement. He liked to have her there, for he could always work better when she was near. His heart was as young as ever in the presence of such a girl as Nell Andrews.

The entire household had been later than usual that morning in settling down to active work. This was due to the shoemaker. He was the regular vendor of news, and knew the gossip for miles around. Although garrulous, he seldom got into trouble, for people everywhere were fond of the wandering man. He could be trusted with a secret, too, and many a love-story he carried in his wise old head. The girls could confide in him, knowing that their confidence would not be betrayed. But when it came to the daily affairs up and down and across the river, he was always most voluble, and had a marvellous fund of information. He knew how many mats were hooked, quilts quilted, yarn spun, and suits of clothes made. He had the latest news about the new babies, their names, and how much each weighed. All this, with much more besides, proved of special interest to the women. And Andy had a way of leaving the impression that he knew a great deal more than he cared to impart. He regaled the men with news about cattle, horses, hay, and other matters in which farmers were most interested. But when politics and religion were mentioned he was most guarded about his words. These were vital questions, and understanding the people as he did, he knew just what to say so as not to give any offence.

So on the morning after his cold dip in the river, Andy had imparted to the Andrews' household considerable local news as they sat late at the breakfast table. But with the Squire and his son Tom at last off to the woods, where they were cutting fire-wood, with the dishes all washed, and Mrs. Andrews upstairs making the beds and tidying up the rooms, Nell was left alone with the shoemaker. This was to her liking, for now the conversation would be of far more interest to her than that about prosaic farm affairs. She was sure that Andy would touch on matters dear to every girl's heart, as he had always done in the past when they were alone.

But this morning Andy was slow in beginning his teasing habit. He seemed to be in a most thoughtful mood as he cut strips from a side of sole-leather and placed them in a pail of water nearby to soften. When this was done, he picked up a piece of well-tanned calf-skin and eyed it critically. Nell glanced at him curiously, and wondered what was passing through his mind. She made no comment, however, until he had sharpened his knife and begun to cut the skin according to a pattern upon a wide board laid across the leather apron upon his knees.

"Are you going to make my shoes first?" she asked, pausing in the act of carrying an iron to the fire. "Be sure and make them good."

"I allus make 'em good, Nellie," was the quiet reply. "I am never ashamed of my work. But I have jist been thinkin' that, perhaps, this'll be the last pair I'll ever make fer you, an' mebbe ye'll be ashamed of 'em before they are worn out."

"Why, what makes you say that, Andy?" the girl asked in surprise. "Why should I be ashamed of those shoes?"

"Ye shouldn't be, Nellie, an' that's what's worryin' me. But if ye go to the city to live, ye won't want to wear shoes sich as old Andy Dooner makes. Ye'll want new-fangled ones that look smart but won't wear."

"I am not going to the city to live," Nell laughingly declared. "Whatever put such a foolish notion as that into your head?"

"No? Well, I'm mighty glad to hear that from yer own purty lips. But what about that young lawyer feller ye met at The Three Elms? He's almost daft over ye, so I hear."

So startled was Nell at these words, that she nearly dropped the iron she was holding in her hand.

"What have you been hearing, Andy?" she asked.

"Oh, something that's set me thinkin'. Say, it was great the way yer father outdone them lawyers."

"So you heard about that?"

"Sure. It's all over Kingston by now. Jed Harris told the joke, an' every team that went to town the next day brought back the story. My! I'd like to have been thar to see the surprised look on them fellers' faces when yer father handed them that stumper about a bushman's cut or a lumberman's cut. Ha, ha, that was sartinly a good one, an' no mistake."

"But the lawyers took the joke in the right spirit," Nell defended. "They were gentlemen and didn't get a bit angry at what father said about Confederation."

"An' one of 'em was especially nice, eh? He had a talk with you, an' after ye'd left he asked Jed no end of questions about ye. He'll be here to see ye soon, I s'pose?"

The flush upon Nell's face was not caused by the fire alone. She forgot all about the ironing as she came close to Andy who was bending over his work. She was visibly annoyed.

"What right has Mr. Harris, or anyone else, to talk about me like that?" she demanded. "Mr. Mason spoke to me like a gentleman, and apologised for the way father had been treated. We were talking for only a minute or two."

"So I heard, Nellie. An' all the time Drum Rowan was watchin' ye from the kitchen. The women folks told Jed that Drum looked so mad they were afraid he'd pounce upon that lawyer chap an' tear him to pieces."

"They did! Well, it's none of their business to whom I talk. And why should Drum get mad? He can mind his own affairs, too. Anyway, Mr. Mason is nothing to me. I never met him before, and it is hardly likely that I shall ever see him again. I am only a country girl, while he is a city lawyer."

Nell returned to her ironing, and Andy's eyes twinkled as he watched her. He liked to see her in such a mood, for he understood her far better than she realised.

"Ye needn't git offended, Nellie, at what I've jist told ye," he remarked. "It's yer own fault, so don't blame others."

"My fault! In what way?" Nell asked, turning sharply upon the shoemaker.

"Fer bein' as ye are. Thar, now, don't git excited, but wait 'till I'm through. I don't wonder at that young lawyer goin' about daft over ye. He couldn't help it, fer that matter. It isn't every day he runs across a girl like Nell Andrews."

"Andy!"

"Thar, now, didn't I tell ye to keep quiet 'till I'm through?"

"But you are talking nonsense."

"Call it what ye like, Nellie, it makes no difference to me. But if I was in that young lawyer's place, I'd been up here to see ye the very next day. My! how I wish I was as young as I used to be. But as I'm out of the runnin', I was hopin' that Drum Rowan would have a chance. Now, thar's a young man to my likin'. Jist think what he did fer me last night. He risked his own life to pull me out of that hole in the ice. D'ye think Seth Sloan or that young lawyer chap would have done sich a thing?"

"Perhaps they would, Andy," Nell replied. "Seth is not a coward, and I know nothing about Mr. Mason."

"No, Seth isn't a coward in broad daylight. He's a great hero then. Oh, I know a good deal about Seth. But Drum's different. He ain't afraid of nuthin'. Now, I could tell ye something about him to show ye what kind of a feller he is, though I guess ye know, all right."

"But he is afraid to come here," Nell reminded. "He hasn't been inside of this house for months."

"That's not Drum's fault, Nellie. You know as well as I do the reason fer that. Yer father an' Cap'n Rowan are at swords' p'ints on religion an' politics. They can't agree, an' never could. They're both fine men to meet so long as ye jump the way they do. But if ye don't, look out. Now, Drum isn't very strong on either religion or politics when it comes to slidin' in set grooves. He's got a mind of his own, so when he didn't altogether agree with yer father one night as they were settin' in this very kitchen, he was ordered to clear out. Now, would any self-respectin' young man come back after bein' treated that way?"

Nell made no reply but went on with her ironing. She was well aware that her father disliked Drum simply because he was the son of his fierce opponent in religion and politics. She did not consider this just, for no matter how the two men might quarrel, it was not right that Drum should be the victim of her father's resentment. She admired the way in which the young man had taken the insult. Notwithstanding her apparent indifference, her heart always quickened when she thought of Drum Rowan. His free careless life in the open, his straight-forward manliness, and his outstanding courage, appealed strongly to her romantic nature. It was gratifying for her to know that he loved her, as she was certain he did. But there was much pleasure in playing with his affections. She enjoyed the envy of other girls in the neighbourhood, who also admired Drum. And when they learned that the young lawyer from the city was interested in her, they would be more envious than ever. It was, therefore, natural that Andy's news about their names being linked together should produce in her heart more than an ordinary thrill of exaltation. Even though nothing came of it, the thought of what her girl friends would say when they heard that a rising young city lawyer was seeking her attention brought a glow of pleasure to her cheeks. Perhaps he would write to her of an intended visit. She had thought of this more than once, and several times during the morning she had glanced furtively out of the little window facing the road.

This was mail day, and the courier might be along at any minute. Hitherto Nell's interest in his arrival was in the bits of news he had to give her, for Jerry Trueman, like the shoemaker, was a vendor of harmless gossip. His mail-bag was generally light, for only a few people received newspapers, and letters were scarce. When skating was good he travelled by ice, with his bag slung over his shoulder. He usually sounded his tin horn to advise people of his arrival, for he considered himself a person of note and greatly magnified his office in the Queen's service. The delivering of a letter was a matter of considerable importance, and he was always agog with curiosity. So on this morning as he glided into the shore at Maple Cove, unfastened his skates, and made his way up to the house, his face beamed with a pleasurable anticipation. Among his little packet of letters was one addressed in a firm masculine hand to Miss Nell Andrews. Jerry had already heard of the incident at The Three Elms, so he surmised that the letter was from the young lawyer.

He was about half way up to the house, when the door of the cellar-kitchen opened and Nell stepped out. She hurried toward him, and in another minute was at his side.

"Have you anything for me, Jerry?" she blushingly asked.

"Why, bless yer sweet heart!" the courier exclaimed. "How ye did scare me! I didn't see ye until ye was right here. What was it ye asked me?"

"You are only fooling, Jerry, for you saw me when I came out of the house."

"Did I? Well, well! An' yer expectin' something, eh? There, now, ye needn't colour up like that, fer I was young once meself."

"Hurry up and tell me, Jerry, for I'm freezing."

"Let's go into the house, then, fer I'm cold, too."

"No, no, give me the letter now, if you have one for me."

"Yaas, I have a letter fer ye, me dear, but ye must pay me fer it. A kiss from yer own sweet lips is the price."

"You foolish man! Isn't it time you stopped such nonsense? You are too old to be wanting kisses from girls."

"But never too old to kiss you, Nellie. I kissed ye when ye was a little baby in yer mother's arms, an' a good many times since. Ye've never refused me before. But mebbe I've no right to ask ye now, as ye want to keep all yer kisses fer another. So I'll give ye the letter an' not exact the price."

Jerry sighed as he fumbled in his bag and brought forth the little packet. Nell was touched by the courier's appearance. For the first time she noticed how old and shrunken he looked, and how thin and worn his clothes. She knew what a hard struggle he had to make a living, and with what indomitable courage he had met misfortune, first in the death of his wife, and later in the loss of two of his children. As he handed her the letter, she stepped forward and imprinted a kiss upon his wrinkled cheek.

"There, will that do, Jerry?" she laughingly asked. "Come right in and have something to warm you up. Andy's in the kitchen."

Nell tucked the letter into the bosom of her dress, turned and hastened back to the house. Andy was at his work as she entered, and to all appearance he had not left his bench. But his eyes twinkled, and he chuckled to himself as the girl crossed the floor and sped to her own room upstairs.