Chapter X

On Saturday, to the consternation of the tea-shop managers, a letter from Althea arrived announcing that owing to a tangle of circumstances too complex to explain, she should be forced to prolong her absence from home for an indefinite period; she was both sorry and apologetic and she offered half a page of regrets. Nevertheless in spite of them it was evident she had not the least intention of shortening her stay.

“Them Tylers!” wrathfully exploded Captain Gill. “Them damn Tylers! I wish to mercy Althea had either been born without relations or else without such a conscience. What does she gain by bendin’ herself backwards to do her duty? It only gets her an’ the rest of us into trouble.”

Asaph offered no response. He dared not reply lest in this moment of weakness and discouragement he endorse Lemuel’s philosophy.

“It will mean mannin’ the boats for another pull, I s’pose,” ventured he wearily. “Still, I reckon we can do it; eh, pardner?”

“Folks can always do what they have to,” grunted Lemuel. “All the same I think Althea’d oughter come home. What does she ’magine is happenin’ to her Dolphin?”

“I dunno. She ’pears to have forgotten there is such a critter.”

“Ain’t you written her how business was boomin’?”

“No. To tell the truth I ain’t had time. Furthermore I’ve been expectin’ every day she’d come walkin’ in. I did send her one postal but there warn’t room on it to--”

“Don’t you believe if she knew how the shop’s blossomed out she’d--”

“Hurry back?” interrogated Asaph, completing the unfinished sentence. “No, I don’t. Once she made up her mind her duty was to bail Sarah out she’d stand by till she was bailed. That’s the way Althea’s made. Her sense of right an’ wrong is somethin’ prodigious. A letter would no more move her than a charge of dynamite. She’d just say folks must do the will of the Lord no matter what fate overtook ’em. Althea’s a powerful good woman, Lemmy.”

“I know that,” promptly agreed Captain Gill. “If all the world was as Christian the millennium wouldn’t be long a-comin’. Still in this case--”

Alas, Abington was too far away to render Lemuel’s ethical opinions of value. Thus it came about that the two cronies launched forth on a second week of the Dolphin, and as the days dragged on and the glories of their success began to be overshadowed by fatigue, Peggy Davidson suddenly made her appearance.

She knocked timidly at the kitchen door early one warm afternoon.

“May I come in?” she asked.

Asaph, who with gingerly care was bringing the sacred green china from the pantry, started at the sound of a feminine voice and all but dropped the plates he was carrying.

Framed in garlands of climbing roses that arched the entrance and with gown snowy against the blue of the distant sea, the girl presented a fair and cheering picture.

Lemmy sprang to let her in.

“I haven’t come to interrupt you,” she explained with a smile. “I’ve come to help.”

“To--to--what?” stammered Asaph.

“To help. Ever since I was here the other day I’ve been wondering how you were getting along, and today, on hearing in roundabout fashion that Mrs. Holmes had not yet returned, I decided to run in and offer my services. Not that you need me. Everyone I meet is singing the praises of the tea-house. There’s an old gentleman at our hotel who hasn’t done talking yet of the wonderful lobster he had here last week. Nevertheless I know it must all mean lots of work, especially when you’re not accustomed to such duties. So I’ve come to beg a job. I should have done so before if the Hollingsworths had not kept Mother and me on the jump every minute until they went away.”

“They’ve gone, have they?” interposed Lemmy Gill. “I’m sorry to hear that for I liked ’em. I kinder thought from what they said they might turn up here again.”

“They wanted to. But the days were so full--”

“I know, I know,” nodded the little man. “Sort of a pity, though, this sightin’ folks you hanker to see more of an’ havin’ ’em swallered up as if by a fog. Prob’ly we’ll never glimpse ’em again this side of the grave.”

“Oh, yes, you will. They haven’t all gone,” explained the girl, turning pink as the rose tucked in her dress. “The young doctor is still here. He had to remain behind on some business or other.”

A significant “Oh!” escaped Lemuel.

“You will let me help you, won’t you?” pleaded Peggy, hurriedly changing the subject. “There must be things an extra pair of hands can do.”

“It’s mighty kind of you to offer,” replied Asaph.

“Offer? But I mean to do it. I came on purpose. See, here is my apron in testimony,” and she held up a wee muslin affair from which dangled pertly starched strings.

“But the very notion--” Asaph began.

“Why not? I’m bored to death sitting round that hotel piazza with nothing to do. It will be quite a lark.”

Resolutely she laid aside her hat and shaking out her bobbed curls she donned her wisp of an apron.

“I’ll set the tables,” announced she, taking the plates from Asaph’s hand. “What are you going to have today?”

“That’s what we were just cogitatin’ about,” Lemuel Gill responded. “We’re kinder on the rocks this afternoon. We’d intended diggin’ clams; but the tide was wrong. For an hour ’most I’ve been rackin’ my brain for another inspiration.”

“What is there in the house?” interrogated Peggy, with businesslike directness.

“Not much of anythin’, I’m afraid. You can come into the pantry an’ take a look around,” was Asaph’s spiritless answer. “There’s more sour milk than anythin’ else. Seems to be seas of it. I’ve been meanin’ to stop that milkman leavin’ so much but ain’t got round to it.” He motioned gloomily toward the array of pans and bowls scattered about the shelves.

“Here’s cheese,” exclaimed Peggy.

“Yes, there’s plenty of that. Sour milk an’ cheese--nothin’ very appetizin’ in that layout,” commented the disheartened chef. “I can’t make ’em into nothin’ an’ neither can Lemmy.”

“But I can,” Peggy cried with enthusiasm. “I can make delicious sour milk gingerbread.” Her eye traversed the cupboard. “We’ll have sandwiches, iced tea, hot gingerbread and cheese--an excellent menu for a warm day. Now where is the flour?”

Already her sleeves were rolled up and she was lifting down a huge earthen bowl.

“You ain’t actually goin’ to cook?” gasped Asaph.

“Yes, I am. Why not? But I must have a good fire. Hadn’t we better put on a little more wood?”

In a moment she had enlarged the Dolphin staff from two to three members, and set the men to work with such spirited leadership that their waning courage revived, and long before the fumes of the bronzing gingerbread scented the cottage they were once more in high feather and leaping to do her bidding.

“Was she to suggest puttin’ Pyrox in the tea I believe I’d do it,” whispered Lemuel Gill in an aside to his confederate. “Ain’t she the clear-headed little pilot, though? Sure of the channel as if she’d towed a tea-room along all her days.”

She certainly was. Without hesitation she whisked the revered green china on to the tables, arranging it daintily with some paper doilies produced from goodness only knew where; she placed the knives, forks, and spoons so they lay amicably side by side; then she hunted out several small glass vases Althea had purchased and stored away.

“Could you trust me to cut a few flowers?” she asked. “I’ll be very careful and take them where they won’t be missed.”

“You can help yourself to whatever you like,” assented Asaph. “Here’s my scissors. Snip off anythin’ you take a fancy to.”

Oh, he had indeed been reduced to a state of utter subjection when he gave such wholesale permission as that!

Peggy did not, however, take advantage of the freedom granted her. Within a short space of time she returned from the garden bringing only a few sprays of roses and mignonette, which she put in the centre of each table. This touch of artistry, however, immediately transformed the place.

“We might ’a’ done that, Lemmy, if we’d had the brains,” said Asaph. “Looks pretty, don’t it? I wish Althea could see it.”

With fervor Lemmy nodded. He wished so with all his heart.

As they trooped after Peggy into the kitchen Lemuel stopped to peep out of the window and presently inquired:

“Ain’t that Doctor Hollingsworth comin’ in the gate?”

Blushing furiously the girl bent over the stove.

“Mercy!” she ejaculated. “What do you suppose he wants here?” Then taking refuge in the shadow of the oven door she called:

“This is no place for you, Eric. We’re busy.”

“I thought maybe--”

“You’d get more chowder and fruit cake? Well, you won’t. We’re leading the simple life today and you’ll get nothing but gingerbread.”

“But I like gingerbread,” the unabashed intruder announced.

“Oh, do you?” retorted Miss Peggy, with a toss of her rippling locks.

Eric ventured farther into the kitchen.

“What have you done, Mr. Holmes--sold out your business?” he asked.

“He’s had it took away from him,” chuckled Lemuel Gill.

“I warn’t sorry to surrender it,” explained Asaph with a faint sigh. “You see a dolphin’s all well enough so long as it keeps mild an’ docile; but when it turns into a whale an’ starts runnin’ away--line, harpoon an’ all--it has you beat.”

“Fie, Mr. Holmes! You weren’t beaten,” smiled Peggy. “Instead, every day in every way you were growing better and better.”

Eric Hollingsworth laughed, but Asaph, to whom Coué’s optimistic philosophy was a sealed book, responded literally:

“If I have it’s chiefly due to Lemmy. The chowder was his, an’ the lobsters, too.”

“Your clam fritters made a great hit Wednesday, I heard.”

“They didn’t go a-beggin’,” admitted the man modestly. “But we couldn’t ’a’ remained on such heights as that forever. Our list of accomplishments was gettin’ played out. Sooner or later there’d ’a’ been a drop to baked beans. Mebbe today, marm, if you hadn’t happened in.”

With frank admiration he regarded the girl in the microscopic apron.

So did young Hollingsworth.

To judge from his eager glance he would have been quite content to watch her indefinitely had she not cut short this agreeable pastime by saying:

“Suppose, Eric, since you are here uninvited, a drone in a hive of bees, you make yourself useful by hunting round outdoors for some mint.”

“Mint! Shades of Volstead! You’re not going to make a surreptitious julep?”

“Nothing so good,” laughed Peggy. “Only a fourth cousin to one. I simply wish to put some mint into the iced tea.”

“How are the mighty fallen!” groaned the doctor.

“Oh, there’s shoals of mint in the garden,” asserted Asaph. “I can get you all you want. I don’t know, though, as I ever heard of puttin’ it in tea.”

“After what happened Friday Asaph’s goin’ kinder slow on herbs,” put in Lemmy Gill.

“An’ is it to be wondered at if I am?” returned his comrade good-humoredly. “If you’d all but poisoned a man an’ two women you’d move careful too.”

It was a merry afternoon, a day of friendly jest and nonsense. And when it proved to be one of the most popular in the tea-shop’s history, Asaph Holmes’s gratitude knew no bounds.

“My eye, Miss Davidson, you’ve set a pace for us now,” he beamed. “What with your gingerbread, your mint, an’ your flowers you’ve given us a pretty high mark to shoot at.”

“Your mint, and your flowers, Mr. Holmes,” corrected Peggy.

“Nonsense! I didn’t know enough to use ’em,” came humbly from the owner of the grey cottage. “Most likely, too, there’s other blessin’s starin’ me in the face that I’m too stupid to see.”

“One of ’em is lookin’ you between the eyes right now,” said Lemmy Gill, directing a gallant bow toward Peggy.

“Oh, I ain’t missin’ that one,” smiled Asaph. “I do hope you know, marm, how grateful Lemmy an’ me are to you.”

“You needn’t be,” answered the girl. “I’ve had all kinds of fun. It’s always been one of my ambitions to run a tea-room.”

“Queer how the notion gets women,” the man muttered.

“It does, though,” confessed Peggy. “There is fascination in the very mention of cakes and tea. I shall be back again tomorrow. Oh, yes, I shall. You cannot rid yourself so easily of me. Haven’t I been satisfactory?” She dimpled in distracting fashion.

“You’re always satisfactory,” burst out Eric Hollingsworth, impulsively.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” retorted the girl with magnificent hauteur. “I was addressing Mr. Holmes.”

“Satisfactory ain’t quite the word,” said Asaph slowly. “I met a line would fit you like a cap in somethin’ I was readin’ lately. I wish I could think how it went.”

“Somethin’ Daniel Webster wrote, I’ll bet a penny,” interrupted Lemuel Gill in a proud undertone. “Asaph’s great on books, you know. Before we launched away on this Dolphin he was always readin’. But he gets little time for that sort of thing now.”

“I can read this winter,” returned his pal, a hint of wistfulness in his tone.

“When the Dolphins cease from troublin’ an’ the weary are at rest,” interpolated the irrepressible Captain.

But Asaph ignored the jest.

“’Tain’t hurt me to rest my eyes, I guess,” said he brightly. “Readin’ is taxin’ business. Besides, I’ve got my flowers. One rose will keep you goin’ for quite a spell,” he added with a smile.

Apparently roses, combined with Peggy Davidson’s skill, Lemuel’s constant assistance, and the daily visits of Doctor Hollingsworth kept Asaph Holmes serene for an entire week. Then one afternoon, all unheralded, in walked Althea. No, she did not walk in. That had been her intention; but instead of carrying it out she halted at the gate of her dwelling and stared incredulously about her.

As far as eye could reach there extended down the lane an array of automobiles such as, in her limited experience, portended no function but a funeral. They stood parked along the edge of the bayberry-bordered meadow; they jostled each other for space beside the vine-covered wall. She did not remember ever having seen so many cars together at one time, and wondered what had brought them. Then presently she observed they stretched away from her own door and a great fear assailed her. Suppose, during her absence, something had happened to Asaph, and through a prank of fate she had failed to receive word of the tragedy? He would have a large funeral, for not only was he one of the oldest residents of the village, but a deacon of the church and a trustee of the library as well. The next moment, however, the absurdity of the idea put her terror to flight. Of course nobody could proceed with such a function without her. Furthermore, the gathering had not a funereal atmosphere. Fashionably gowned women with gay parasols loitered on the lawn or paused on the steps to exchange laughing gossip. There were men about, too, in sporting togs. The verandas swarmed with people.

Then it flashed upon her that the moving crowd with its kaleidoscopic dashes of color was the fulfillment of her dream. It was the Green Dolphin!

Yes, it was the Dolphin as she had in her maddest moments pictured it--the Dolphin a-hum with life and joviality!

As she passed in between the little tables and beheld them tempting with roses and her treasured green china, it seemed as if the vision could not be real, the beauty of it so far outstripped her ideal. There were flowers everywhere and masses of bayberry in bowls, in hanging baskets, and in nice old blue jars. Oh, the place had an air, she realized that immediately. But how in the world had Asaph managed it? He had scarcely mentioned the tea-house in the one hurriedly scrawled postal he had sent her, and from his silence she had gathered that the enterprise had gone to rack and ruin, and been the more impatient to get back and grasp the tiller before the chance of salvaging the wreck had vanished forever.

Could the shop have been going on like this all the while she had been away? Oh, it was impossible. Asaph and that blundering Lemmy Gill could never have contrived such a triumph.

For it was a triumph--every step she took convinced her of that. She had thought Mattie Bearse’s Yaller Fish the pinnacle of elegance. But her own Green Dolphin--!

Dragging her suitcase after her she went on through the house. Nobody heeded her coming. It was too busy a spot for one more visitor to be noticed. The tables were crowded, and as she passed along she glimpsed her husband and Lemmy Gill moving in and out the room bearing aloft trays laden with her precious china tea-sets. There was a stranger, too, hovering about, a handsome young city man in conventional summer garb, who was collecting money in a smart little wicker basket. She should never have thought of using a basket; but how nice it was! She speculated as to who this cashier could be. Apparently he was entirely at home, for he chatted right and left with the guests and seemed to be a general favorite with them. For that matter, Asaph and Lemmy were gossiping and joking with people as if they had met them times without number, especially a wizened old man in the corner whose daughter was objecting:

“Now, Pa, I wouldn’t drink a second glass of that iced tea if I were you. It will surely keep you awake.”

“Didn’t I have two yesterday, Sophie, and sleep like a top afterward? Keep me awake! I guess not!”

So there had been a yesterday and perhaps a day before! The marvel was, then, nothing new.

Althea threaded her way on into the kitchen and there on the threshold stood transfixed, the enigma that had baffled her plain to her quick understanding.

Amid a methodically arranged collection of tea bags, boiling kettles, and moistly wrapped sandwiches was a young girl, bewilderingly pretty, placing frosted cakes on a plate with a deftness that bespoke the practised hand.

Althea had but to look at her and the mystery was solved.

Asaph had been compelled to summon professional aid! That explained everything.

It was just as this answer to the conundrum flashed upon her that the creature in the ridiculous apron turned and confronted her.

“Oh,” cried she, with a smile that fairly dazzled, “are you Mrs. Holmes?”

“I am,” was the stiff response.

“How splendid to see you home again! I’m Peggy Davidson.”

Althea scanned her critically. She was not of the cheap class of wage earner, that was evident. Doubtless she was some domestic science graduate who commanded a fabulous price. Poor Asaph! He was so impractical. Likely as not he had plunged helplessly in and hired her without so much as referring to wages. That would be his way. He wouldn’t have an idea whether her fee was large or small or whether he was making money or losing it. It was safe to assume he was losing it. The establishment was without question swamped, this very minute, with debts. She ought never to have gone away and left such a project in his hands and in the hands of that scatter-brained Lemuel Gill.

“I don’t believe I shall need you after today,” announced she to the girl in her loftiest tone. “Now that I’m home I can look after things myself.”

“Of course you can,” was the cordial reply. “Mr. Holmes will be thankful enough to have you, too. Does he know you’re here?”

“No. He was busy when I came in.”

“It’s been frightful today,” said the sprite in the wee apron. “We have been rushed to death. If the popularity of the Dolphin continues we shall have to be putting tables on the lawn.”

The use of the word we indicated so obvious a participation in the Dolphin’s affairs and familiarity with its interests that Althea once more stole a sharp glance at the girl’s face.

She had finished with the cakes now and stood idly fanning herself with a newspaper, and every time this improvised weapon swayed it set in motion myriad soft little curls that clustered about her forehead. Oh, her hair was pretty, very pretty--almost too pretty, thought the elder woman with resentment.

“How did you leave Teddie?” Peggy suddenly inquired.

So she knew about Teddie, too! Probably Asaph, simple-minded and confiding, had told her everything. Men were weak as dish-water when a pretty girl was concerned.

“My nephew is better,” was her chilly response.

“I am glad! Mr. Holmes will be relieved. He has been worried about the little chap. He is so sympathetic, he can’t bear to have a child suffer.”

Then, beaming guilelessly at Althea, she added, “What a dear he is!”

At the audacity of the compliment the woman caught her breath. Oh, it was full time she came home, thought she to herself. Not but that she trusted Asaph. She would have trusted him to the other end of the world if he were let alone. But men were human and none of them proof against the wiles of a fascinating female, especially one that talked of books, flowers, and favorite nephews.

It should be said to Althea’s credit that so tremendously proud was she of Asaph, it never occurred to her there was anything incongruous in a girl, however young, being attracted to her husband. He was one man in a thousand, and such being the case was it to be expected all the world but herself would be blind to his exceptional qualities? This minx in the absurd apron, for example, had evidently already discovered what a paragon he was.

Nevertheless, commendable as was her taste, some sort of rebuke was certainly due her, and as Althea stood hesitating whether to put the upstart in her place or ignore her brazen observation, Asaph himself came hurrying into the kitchen.

“More cakes, Miss Davidson!” cried he. “They’re disappearin’ like live bait. Haven’t we had a crowd, though?”

It was then he turned and caught sight of his wife.

“Althea! In all my born days I never was so glad to see a human bein’! When did you get here?”

“Just now.”

“I didn’t notice you comin’ in.”

“You were too busy.”

Had she cherished a shadow of doubt as to her welcome it was forever banished by the eagerness with which the great fellow seized her bag and kissed her. They never had been much given to demonstrative greetings, and for a person of his New Englandism to so far forget his reserve as to embrace her in public caused her to flush like a schoolgirl.

“I see you’ve made Miss Davidson’s acquaintance already,” he continued. “She’s been my mainstay--she an’ Lemmy. I’d have sunk plumb to the bottom but for them.”

“Oh, no, you wouldn’t, Mr. Holmes,” Peggy protested. “You and the Dolphin were getting on perfectly well before I butted in.”

“Butted in!”

“Well, that is what I did, you know. I came over here from the hotel all uninvited, Mrs. Holmes, just for the lark of it. I’ve always wanted to try my luck with a tea-room.”

“You could run one to the queen’s taste!” came enthusiastically from Asaph.

Light was breaking in on Althea’s confused mind.

“Was it you, Miss Davidson, fixed the tables, flowers an’ all?” asked she.

“I helped. I enjoy doing such things.”

“You do them well.”

Althea might have said more but she was not given to slopping over; perhaps for that very reason her praise, scantily doled out, carried the more significance.

“Where’s the cakes you came after?” broke in Lemmy Gill, appearing in the doorway. “Mr. Haverford an’ his old maid daughters are beat to a frazzle waitin’ for ’em.”

“My soul! I clean forgot,” gasped the delinquent.

“No matter, Mr. Holmes. The Haverfords will be all the better for digesting their tea,” laughed Peggy. “Here are the cakes, Captain Gill. You take them in.”

Lemuel, born with a sweet tooth, looked longingly down on the freshly filled plate.

“Ain’t they cute!” observed he. “How you ever contrived to frost ’em so smooth I don’t see. I’ll bet, too, they’re good as they look. I could swaller the dishful at one gulp.”

“You needn’t do it, though,” ordered Peggy, holding up a warning finger. “Wait until by and by and you shall have some. I’ve a panful tucked away on purpose for you.”

“That’s welcome tidin’s. And--my soul an’ body--if here ain’t Althea! That tidin’s better yet. Oh, if we ain’t prayed night an’ day for your comin’, Althea.”

“You seem to be makin’ out pretty well without me,” smiled the woman.

“We’re makin’ out,” granted Lemmy, “with the help of Miss Peggy here, an’ Doctor Hollingsworth; we’re doin’ fine!”

“Doctor Hollingsworth?” repeated Althea, vaguely.

“He’s number four of the crew. Guess you ain’t met him yet.”

“An’ what is he doin’ here?” demanded the still puzzled sponsor of the Green Dolphin.

Glancing furtively at Peggy, Lemuel cocked his head and with solemnity winked one of his sharp little eyes.

“We found ’twas safer to keep a physician on the premises,” drawled he.