The House of the Misty Star Part 8

When he caught sight of Zura, his alertness of manner was pleasing and the kind of joy-look in his eyes did me good. I guessed he was downright glad to see something youthful hovering around the "Misty Star." I was glad too, but the situation did not seem to call for hurrahs and fireworks. Two young American people meeting, shaking hands, and courteously greeting each other was an unusual sight to me, but after all a natural one. Page said he had been obliged to forego the pleasure of seeing us, as he had been very busy organizing his new cla.s.ses. He was glad to come again.

We went at once to dinner. I wondered from where the new "chefess" and her a.s.sistant "potato peeler" had procured the materials necessary to so pretentious a meal. Though surprised, I soon learned that Jane Gray was mistress of the art of making something beautiful out of nothing.

We sat down to the softly-lighted table. The china was old and somewhat chipped, but on its white background a design in tender blue just matched the fresh larkspur used for table decorations. With the bringing in of each dish prepared by the new cooks the little party grew gayer and friendlier. The quaint old dining-room had never witnessed festivities like these. In the long ago it served as the audience chamber of a Daimyo's 'Besso' or play place. It was here that the feudal lord had held council of war and state. The walls had never before echoed the laughter of joyous youth. Now even the grotesque figures on the carved beams seemed to awaken from a long sleep and give back smile for smile.

Pine Tree and Maple Leaf, gay in holiday dress, usually so precise and formal, fluttered about like distracted b.u.t.terflies as they served the dinner, often stopping to hide their faces in the long sleeves when Zura honored them with side remarks for, of course, she was the source of all the merriment, the life of the party. She also reduced Jane to a state of helpless laughter. I felt the years dropping away from me, and the face of the boy whom I had learned to love was less strained and brighter than I had ever seen it. He said little at first, but his eyes smiled, and he listened eagerly to all Zura's chatter and seemed to be hearing once again of joys dreamed of and a world lost to him.

I knew myself growing happier every minute. The after-dinner coffee was not necessary to make, somewhere near my heart, little thrills jump up and down, like corn in a hot popper. I was getting what my soul craved--companions.h.i.+p, contact with life, and a glimpse into the doings of youth's magic years.

We soon returned to the living-room. Page prepared to smoke, and we settled down to a friendly, intimate time.

The talk turned to school. Jane had been telling of a j.a.panese woman, who, handicapped by the loss of an arm, and no longer being useful in field work, trudged every morning eight miles to school where she could learn sewing so as to help husband and babies.

"Well!" remarked Zura doubtingly. "I can't sew with two hands, and my tongue thrown in. I do not see how she manipulates anything so contrary as a needle, single-fisted."

"Oh! my dear," said Jane, "you can believe with one hand just as hard as you can with two. It's hoping with all your might, while one is doing, that makes our dreams come true. I'm afraid you never really loved school."

"Oh, yes, I did in spots," she said. "Especially if there were a fight on--I mean--a contest. I could bear with cheerful resignation all the V.P's., the B.B's., and chilly zeros they tagged on to my deportment, but I would have worked myself into a family skeleton, before I would permit another girl to outcla.s.s me in a test exam! I could forgive the intellectual her sunset hair, but her Grecian nose--never!"

The methods employed by the two contestants as related by Zura had called forth my unqualified sympathy for the teacher when once again the gong on my front-door rang out and a voice was heard asking for Miss Wingate.

Zura jumped up from her seat and greeted the visitor with frank delight.

"Oh!" she said, "it's Pinkey Chalmers! Who'd believe it! h.e.l.lo, Pinkey!

My! but it is good to see somebody from home."

There was ushered into the room a well nourished looking chap, who greeted Zura by her first name familiarly. I did not need to be told that he was the young man with whom she had been seen on the highway.

He was introduced to me as Mr. Tom Chalmers; I was told he had earned his nickname, "Pinkey," by contracting the pink-s.h.i.+rt habit.

The youth was carelessly courteous and very sure of himself. My impression was that he had seen too much of the world and not enough of his mother. He declined my invitation to dine, saying he had had late tea before he left the s.h.i.+p which was coaling in a nearby port.

"I started early," he went on, "but maybe you think I didn't have a great old time finding this place. You said in your note, Zura, it was the 'Misty Star' at the top of the hill. Before I reached here I thought it must be the last stopping-place in the Milky Way. Climbing up those steps was something awful."

Mr. Chalmers mopped his rosy brow, but later conversation proved his sensitiveness to feminine beauty quite overbalanced his physical exhaustion, as on the way many pretty girls peeped out from behind paper doors.

Page kept in the background, plainly arranging a mode of escape. He soon excused himself on the plea of work, saying as he left, "I'll drop in some time to-morrow for the book. You'll find it by then."

With the look of a disappointed child on her face, Jane called to her little attendants, went to her room and resumed her knitting.

The unbidden guest was gaiety itself, and there was no denying the genuine pleasure of the girl. As the night was warm and glorious, I suggested that Zura and her guest sit on the balcony.

I picked up a book and sat by my reading lamp, but my eyes saw no printed words. My mind was busy with other thoughts. I was a woman without experience and had never lived in the world of these two. But intuition is stronger than custom and longer than fas.h.i.+on. The standards I held for the boys and girls of my country were high and n.o.ble. Frankly I did not like the man's attention to Zura, the intimate companions.h.i.+p suggested by his actions, nor his unreserved manner. The girl had told us of their chance meeting on the steamer coming from Seattle. Any mention of his name on her part was so open, she spoke of him as just a good playfellow to help her to pa.s.s away the time, I could not believe her feelings involved. But, fearful tragedies can be fostered by loneliness and in Mr. Chalmers's easy familiarity with the lonely girl, there was something wanting; I could only name it chivalry. Yet, as their voices came to me, glad, happy, vibrant with the joys of youth and its interests, I thought perhaps I did not understand the ways of the young and their customs, because I had never known their delights. On and on the boy and girl talked, unheeding my presence and the fact that I could hear.

From out the open window I caught a glimpse of the radiant blue between the distant hills and the light of the great evening star as it flashed its eternal message to the sparkling waters below.

Zura saw it and called softly to her companion, "Hush, Pinkey! Look!

Isn't that a bit of heaven?"

And he of the earth replied, "I am looking at you. That is all the heaven I want just now."

"You silly!" was the unvexed reproof.

After a pause they began to talk of queer and, to me, far-off things--something about the "average" of "Giants" and "Cubs," of "quarter-backs," "full-backs" and a kind of "great rush," though what it was after I never knew. I supposed he was telling her of some wild tribe festival when he spoke of dances bearing the names of animals and fowls. It was all as incomprehensible to me as Hindustanee.

At last he said to her, "Well, girlie, I'm about due to leave now. I am sorry, but I must be moving." Then more softly, "Remember to-morrow night. You take a wrap and I'll see to the lunch. Boat will be ready at eight. By Jove! with a night like this what a lark it will be!"

The meaning of this was as clear as my crystal paper weight, and between the door where Mr. Chalmers bade Zura good-night and the lodge where I aroused the sleeping Is.h.i.+ to his duty of custodian my thoughts went around like a fly-wheel on full duty.

The reflected flame of the old bronze lantern, swayed by the night-wind, fell on the great gate and transformed the carved dragons and attendant demons into living, moving things.

The departing guest saw it and remarked with a mock fear, "That dragonette seems alive; hope he and his angels will not follow me. Some carving that!"

"Are you interested in curious things, Mr. Chalmers?"

"I should say. Everything from jiujitsu to eels and chopsticks catches me."

"Have you ever seen a garden in this country which boasts some three or four centuries of birthdays?"

"No; but I should like to gaze on the spectacle."

Here was my opportunity to get in serious conference with the young man, and as it seemed one of the few sights Mr. Chalmers had missed, I was charmed to make my offer.

"My garden is very famous," I said, "and just now it is in its full beauty. I wonder if you would come to-morrow morning and permit me to show it to you?"

"Sure. Thanks," was the answer as he swung down the street and into the sleeping town below.

VIII

MR. CHALMERS SEES THE GARDEN AND HEARS THE TRUTH

Early next day I cornered Jane privately and told her of the conversation I had overheard the night before and the visitor I was expecting, adding, "This is Orphan Asylum day. I can't go, but take Zura with you. I don't want her to see that Chalmers boy again. He's too friendly, too highly colored to suit my ideas."

If my tones were sharper than the occasion demanded, it was because of the combination of a shriveled cash account, and an undesirable male around. The general disturbance of mind made me say, not quite honestly:

"He may be all right, but so far I can see not one good quality in Mr.

Chalmers's make-up."

"Oh! yes, there is, Miss Jenkins," said Jane, quick to defend. "He can whistle beautifully. Last night as he went down the street you should have heard, 'Oh! Promise Me!' It was so pretty I almost cried."

"Spare your tears, Jane; the prettiest whistle that ever grew never made a real man. Mr. Chalmers will have to s.h.i.+ne in another direction before I am convinced. Now get Zura and clear out, and don't you dare to take more than one basket of gingerbread Johnnies to the orphans."

When Mr. Tom Chalmers walked in at ten o'clock he barely concealed his regret at there being only an elderly hostess to receive him. The garden where I conducted my visitor, might have added joy to its symbol of peace on this perfect day of early spring. In each flower, in every leaf a glad spirit seemed to dwell. The feathered tribe that made its home among the branches madly rejoiced in a melody of song and twitterings. A white mother pigeon sheltered her young in a gnarled old plum tree, full-blossomed and crimson, while in a lofty pine old man crow scolded all birdkind as he swayed on the topmost branch, a bit of ebony against the matchless sky of blue.

There is only one effectual way of dealing with things one does not want to do--make past history of them as fast as possible. Very soon after entering the garden I asked Mr. Chalmers, who was mildly interested in the beauties before him, to sit down with me. Without further dallying, I went straight to the point of the interview. I told him I had heard him make the appointment with Zura the night before and he seemed to have forgotten to mention the matter to me, though I was close by. For a time at least I was responsible for Zura, and I thought it best to call his attention to a few facts which could not be overlooked.