Chapter VII

Probably the person who would have been most concerned could she have known what was happening at home would have been Althea, who while entertaining for Lemuel Gill a warm esteem was not blind to his happy-go-lucky standards of living. She was a realist, and to pretend to one of her unimaginative temperament that Lemmy was not idle, shiftless and shabby would have been futile. Although an ocean rolled before his door into which he might have dived for pearls; dropped nets for food; and plunged for cleanliness and refreshment, he seldom troubled its waters for any of these services, contenting himself merely with gazing at its flashing foam.

Day after day and year after year he had looked upon the vast expanse before him, delighting in its smiles and frowns and failing to appreciate the material advantages of its proximity. Nevertheless he must have derived something of value from its presence, or he would not have remained where its surge and swell all but lapped his doorsill.

Just what the immensity of blue meant to him he could not, perhaps, have put into words. There were golden June days when a spray of his Dorothy Perkins, pink with blossoms and swaying against the sweep of sea and sky, sent a throb of delight pulsing over him; the fairness of a lily opening its chalice to the sun was lovelier, in his opinion, when its perfumes mingled with the salty air; and the whisper of the tide was a song he never tired of hearing.

Lemuel Gill may have been careless and untidy of body, but over his soul there broke a hundred times a day floods of beauty that kept it pure and unspotted.

Then there was his code of honor, for casual as he was he had his own particular credo. He did not hesitate to borrow a clam fork and forget to return it; or borrow money, either, in the same irresponsible fashion; and he gossiped like a magpie. But the town agreed he never passed on a slander or failed a friend.

“Lemmy’s made up of a streak of fat an’ a streak of lean, Althea,” explained Asaph to his wife; and possibly this characterization of his crony was as just a summary as any that could be made. At least Althea accepted Lemuel at this baconian rating.

Yet notwithstanding the admission of the little man into her circle of intimates, she would not at all have relished the idea of his cavorting unrestrained about her orderly kitchen and making chowders therein, and no sooner had the artist begun culinary operations than Asaph, semi-educated out of his bachelor abandon, experienced a realization of the fact.

For once launched on a project Lemuel forgot all else; and since in this case his aim was to open clams, the utensil he used to perform the office mattered not a whit; neither was it of moment to what bourne the shells hurtled. He had pounced on Althea’s favorite paring knife as a desirable weapon, and gone zealously to work, while his companion trembled to see the slender blade writhe and quiver in his resolute grasp. The shells he strewed about could be picked up from the shed, lawn, driveway, and kitchen after Lemuel’s departure, but if Althea’s treasured knife was injured the damage was not to be so easily repaired. Nevertheless, he knew Lemmy’s disposition too well to risk even the most delicate suggestion that the tool he wielded might break. But he did contrive to frame some fable about the hens’ needing shells and gather those most distantly lodged into a basket. Then having done all he deemed prudent, he set about producing the ingredients that were to go into the kettle.

Lemuel liked an early supper, and by four o’clock the mixture on the stove was sending heavenward an aroma which the chef who bent over the kettle affirmed was enough to make the mouths of the four-and-twenty elders water.

“_But now th’ month is up, ol’ Turk!_
(_An’ we says so, an’ we hopes so_)
_Get up, you swine, an’ look for work!_
(_Oh, poor--ol’--man!_)”

roared he. “I ain’t thought of that chanty of the _Dead Horse_ for years. Let’s see! How does it start off?”

It started off in a fashion so different from that either Asaph Holmes or Captain Gill anticipated that the hair rose erect on their heads.

There was a crunching of wheels on the driveway, the tooting of a horn, a babel of voices, and a loud rap at the screen door.

“Who’s that?” demanded Lemmy in a tense undertone.

“Hush!”

“Of course they’re at home,” piped a shrill feminine voice. “I can smell cooking.”

“Clam chowder--or I’ll eat my hat,” a man asserted.

“I guess that’s all you’ll get,” laughed another woman.

“Clam chowder! M--m! I haven’t had a real one in years. I’d pay five dollars for a plate of it.”

“Nonsense, you’re not so starved as all that, Eric.”

“I am, too. Haven’t you coaxed us past every tea-room on the road, Mother, promising us a delicious meal at the Green Dolphin? There was a fish of some fantastic color back there on the border of the town that we might have gone to. But nothing would do but for us to hunt up this place.”

“You won’t be sorry you waited, son. Someone told me Mrs. Holmes was a marvellous cook.”

“What good will that do us if we can’t get in?”

“Of course we can get in. Isn’t the shop advertised to open today?”

“You may have been mistaken in the date, my dear,” suggested her husband.

“It was posted in black and white at the Wilton cross roads; you saw it yourself.”

Asaph held his breath, but Lemmy Gill, who had raised the cover to give his _chef d’oeuvre_ a stir, caught the words and dropped the tin with a crash that reverberated through the silence like a charge of artillery.

“We’re done for now,” whispered Asaph angrily. “Why on earth couldn’t you have kept still?”

“I was tryin’ to.”

“Well, you didn’t succeed very well. I’ll have to go to the door now.”

“An’ tell ’em Althea’s gone?”

“Of course not--let ’em in for tea.”

“Tea!”

“Ain’t that what they’ve come for?”

“But--but, Asaph--hold on a minute. How can we? There’s two great cars swarmin’ with folks. I can see ’em through the blind.”

“That can’t be helped now. If you hadn’t welcomed ’em with cymbals--”

“Quit bawlin’ me out. I tell you the confounded cover slipped.”

“Well, it’s of no account now what happened to it. You might as well have tossed it up to the ceilin’ in joy fur’s the Dolphin’s concerned. We’ll just have to open the door an’ let the whole crowd in. Althea’d never get over it to her dyin’ day were I to send ’em off.”

“But the chowder--it’s ’most ready,” wailed Lemuel.

“Shove it back where it won’t burn an’ bear a hand.”

As the reluctant host disappeared through the doorway and Lemmy grudgingly shifted his masterpiece from its position of honor, he overheard Asaph saying:

“To be sure, marm. Come right in. Yes, the Dolphin’s open today. Mebbe you’ll make yourself comfortable at some of the tables on the porch while I fetch the dishes. The flowers in the garden? Yes, I raise ’em myself. What’s that? Sell you the Madonna lilies? I’m afraid I couldn’t. No, not for five dollars or ten, either. No, nor the larkspur. The flowers ain’t for sale. Only the food.”

Even in the distant kitchen Lemuel quailed before the indignant voice. It did not sound like Asaph’s. He waited anxiously until it again modulated into his friend’s customary tone:

“What have we got? Well, I ain’t thought that fur. I’ll have to take a look round. Of course there’s--there’s water, an’ bread, an’--”

“We’re not convicts, Cap’n.”

“I’m not the Cap’n,” explained Asaph, simply. “He’s out in the kitchen makin’ chowder.”

“Chowder!” A shout went up from the hungry motorists.

“I told you I smelled clam chowder,” put in one of the women triumphantly.

“It was the crash of the tin cover that convinced us somebody was at home,” explained a laughing voice.

Lemuel cursed his awkwardness.

“Well, fetch us something,” a male visitor interrupted with impatience. “We’ve been on the road since morning with only a few sandwiches ’twixt us and starvation. We’ll have your whole menu from beginning to end--price be damned.”

“Henry!”

“I tell you I’m hollow to my ankles,” her husband declared. “A dozen muslin sandwiches and an egg don’t go far with an able-bodied man.”

“I’ll fix you up some victuals fast as ever I can,” answered Asaph. “Just make yourselves at home an’ be patient till I can flax round a mite.”

Then he bustled back into the kitchen.

“You’ll have to come to the rescue, Lemmy,” whispered he. “I’ve got ten folks in there who don’t ’pear to have eaten since they turned their teens. We may’s well make the tea in the wash boiler. Althea’s little toy teapots ain’t goin’ to make no impression on ’em.”

“What do you want I should do first?”

“Clear the deck of the chowder an’ set some water a-boilin’,” returned the flustered proprietor of the Dolphin. “My eye, but I’m thankful you’re at hand! I hardly know where to ketch a-holt. Let me think. There’s fruit cake somewhere; I remember hearin’ Althea say she’d baked a batch of it ’cause ’twould keep. An’ there’s molasses cookies, too. I ain’t sure but there’s pies tucked away under some of the big yaller bowls; there often is. You might cut up some bread while you’re waitin’. Give ’em good thick chunks--not those little lace slices you can see through such as Mattie Bearse deals out. If folks are comin’ here to eat I mean they shall get their money’s worth.” He paused to wipe the perspiration from his dripping forehead, then continued: “The tea dishes are in the pantry. You’ll spy ’em on the shelf. They’re green. Tote ’em out.”

With alacrity Lemuel leaped to obey orders.

“Found the china ware?” called Asaph, when after a reasonable pause his assistant did not reappear.

“Aye, aye! But the cups ain’t bigger’n thimbles an’ they’re thin as scallop shells. I’m scat of my life to meddle with ’em. Were I to grip ’em tight enough to hold onto ’em they’d cave in.”

“Don’t smash ’em, Lemmy! Don’t smash ’em, whatever else you do. Althea bought a pretty close pattern an’ ain’t got one extra piece.”

“I ain’t layin’ to, the Lord knows. But they’re so slippery. Oh, say, you’ll have to come an’ set me loose from this one. I’ve got my forefinger through the handle an’ can’t budge it.”

“Hold on an’ don’t pull at it. I’ll be there in a minute.”

With anxious haste Asaph put down the loaf of cake he had just dislodged from beneath a great earthen bowl and sped to his comrade’s aid.

But to extract Lemuel’s plump digit from the ring of frail porcelain through which it had forced itself proved to be no simple task. He was shackled as firmly to the green cup as if he were a manacled prisoner.

“You can’t pull it off with your hands all buttery,” fretted the captive. “Go wash ’em so’st they won’t slip.”

“What’d you jam your whole joint through the handle for, anyway?”

“You don’t s’pose I did it a-purpose, do you?” snapped Lemuel. “Them cups have a glaze on ’em like ice. I slid through the hole unawares.”

“I wish to mercy you could slide out as easily. Well, it’s no use putterin’ here. Come out to the sink an’ douse your hand in some hot suds. That’s the only remedy I know,” sighed Asaph impatiently. “All is if you can’t manage to get the thing off you’ll have to set down an’ wait till we have more time to tackle it.”

“S’pose it won’t come off?”

“Then you’ll have to tag Althea to Abington an’ let her get you free; or else wear it till she comes home.”

“You don’t mean you’d expect me to wear this trinket hangin’ to me a week,” fumed Captain Gill, splashing the soapy water wildly about.

“What would you do--smash it? I don’t know what Althea’d say if you did. She counted noses on them cups. Besides, if you break the cup you throw out the saucer too.”

“But how can I go round with a sea-green teacup clingin’ to me like a barnacle?” whined Lemmy.

“Ain’t it stirrin’ at all?”

“No, not a peg. An’ what’s more my finger’s swellin’ up bigger every minute.”

In spite of his annoyance Asaph smiled.

“You’re weddin’ the Dolphin, Lemmy, like the Doges of Venice used to wed the Adriatic,” observed he drily. “It beats me how you contrived to wriggle that ring on in the beginnin’.”

“I told you it slid onto me. I had a notion I’d string a few cups on my hand an’ bring ’em out that way. I thought ’twould save time.”

“Humph! Well, I reckon the old-fashioned method of carryin’ ’em is good as any,” was the brutal comment.

A pause followed the words.

“You ain’t goin’ to leave me like this, are you?” Lemuel presently wailed in a reproachful tone.

“I can’t go botherin’ with you any more just now. I’ve wasted a full ten minutes as ’tis. ’Fore we know it them folks will be out here hollerin’ for their tea. You sit down somewhere, Lemmy, out of harm’s way an’ leave me to feed ’em. Once I’ve filled ’em up I’ll launch in on you again.”

Reluctantly the abashed victim sank into a chair.

“I ain’t a-goin’ to fuss to cut up the cake or put the cookies on plates. There ain’t time,” continued Asaph as if thinking aloud. “They can slice what they want off the loaf an’ help themselves out of the cookie jar. Let me see--cake, bread, butter--” he checked the articles off on his fingers. “Seems if some beach plum preserve would go good along with the rest.”

“The tea ain’t made,” suggested Captain Gill, rising timidly from his corner.

“Sit--down, Lemmy!” thundered his friend. “I know the tea ain’t brewed. I’ve got it in mind. The water’s boilin’ an’ I can make it in a jiffy. What I want to do is to hunt up that special tea Althea ordered from Boston. She got it a-purpose an’ ’twas supposed to be pretty fine. It’s only fair to give them folks the best we’ve got. Now where’d she tell me she was goin’ to stow it?” He scratched his head.

Search, however, as he might, effort failed to reveal this very necessary commodity. He pulled out the contents of neatly arranged drawers and boxes, scattering his wife’s possessions recklessly high and low; he swept bowls and tin cans from the pantry shelves. The tea was not to be found. And not only was it missing but none of an inferior quality came to light to take its place. At last having overturned a pitcher of sour milk into the ice-chest he halted his frenzied chase.

“I can’t find the durn stuff,” fumed he, wearied out. “An’ now the ice-chest’s awash with milk.”

“S’pose I was to--”

“Do set down, Lemuel Gill. Ain’t I got trouble enough without you instigatin’ more? The kindest thing you can do is to keep out of this clutter. I know you want to help; but how can you when you’re handcuffed? All is I’ll just have to break the news that there ain’t no tea. They’ll have to content themselves with water.”

“But Althea advertised tea,” objected Lemuel. “’Twas the chief thing she promised people. A tea-house without tea is like a weddin’ without a bride.”

“Don’t I know it? If you can’t offer comfort cheerier than that you better hold your tongue.”

For an interval nothing was heard in the kitchen but the frantic bubbling of the kettle.

“You--you--ain’t goin’ to give ’em those kitchen plates to eat off of, are you?” Lemmy inquired, when he could contain himself no longer.

“Yes, I am,” came curtly from his crony. “I don’t mean to run the risk of wearin’ rings on my fingers--nor bells on my toes, neither. One of us has got to remain able-bodied an’ seaworthy an’ that green china’s wicked slippery. Besides, if I don’t use it none of it will get broke.”

The mention of the offending porcelain brought freshly to Lemuel’s mind his tribulation.

“My finger’s all purple an’ numb as a dead fish,” lamented he.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it,” was the meagre comfort Asaph hurled over his shoulder as he disappeared on to the veranda. “You’ll have to grin an’ bear it.”

Left to himself Captain Gill settled gloomily back into his rocker and with indignation surveyed the fragile barrier that stood betwixt him and liberty. He revelled in gossip and would dearly have loved to behold the visitors and mingle in the general hilarity.

“I knew this infernal Dolphin would ketch Asaph,” grumbled he in an undertone. “From its christenin’ I felt squeamish about it. Dolphins bring bad luck. I never sighted a school of ’em at sea that the breeze didn’t die down afterwards. Asaph will be a slave to this critter all summer--see if he ain’t! Take a dolphin into your home an’ you’ve annexed a boarder that’ll leave you no peace. What chance is he goin’ to have henceforth for fishin’, clammin’, gardenin’, or readin’? Fur’s that goes what chance am I goin’ to have myself?”

He was still mulling over these depressing thoughts and ruefully regarding the calamity into which his initial encounter with the Green Dolphin had plunged him when the door opened and his pal appeared.

“The feller they call Henry has offered me a five-dollar bill for a dish of clam chowder,” cried he excitedly. “’Pears he comes from Denver an’ ain’t visited New England for years. He says he ain’t seen a clam since he can remember. An’ no sooner did he pipe up for chowder than all the rest of ’em, findin’ there was no tea, did the same. They’re ready to pay ’most any price for it.”

“Is there enough?”

“Oh, there’s plenty of it. I poured in a generous lot of milk so’st we could warm it over. There’s no danger of it fallin’ short. I just didn’t know how you’d feel about sellin’ it. You see ’twas you made it.”

“I’ll own I didn’t have in mind feedin’ it to a gang of starvin’ motorists,” retorted Lemmy. “Still, I dunno but we may’s well let ’em have it. You’re in a tight place an’ I ain’t been able to help you none.”

“You were tryin’ to, anyhow, Lemmy.”

The glance Asaph flashed his friend widened into a smile and with it the cloud of irritation that hung between them vanished.

“Bail out the chowder, pardner,” ejaculated Captain Gill, instantly in his normal spirits. “Don’t spare it. I can make another one tomorrow.”

“I reckon you’ll have to,” was the melancholy forecast.

This prediction proved to be only too true a one. Plate after plate of the steaming viand disappeared through the kitchen door never to return. Then at last, hot and exhausted, the panting host of the Dolphin poked his head in at the window.

“They will have you out, Lemmy--there’s no stoppin’ ’em. Mr. Hollingsworth--that’s Henry, from Denver--says there warn’t ever a chowder made that could match this one. He insists on meetin’ the cook who concocted it. An’ there’s a girl here, a Miss Margaret Davidson (Peggy, they call her), who’s so plumb crazy over the garden she can scarcely eat. You’ll have to come an’ tell her about the flowers.”

“But--but--how can I?” With a wan expression Lemuel held up his captive finger.

“That? Pooh, never mind that blasted teacup, Lemmy. Smash it!” responded Asaph with high-pitched gaiety.