Sara, a Princess: The Story of a Noble Girl Part 4

Stepping within, she found him reading a paper, from which he glanced up to scowl inquiringly at her over his gla.s.ses, afterwards relaxing his brows a trifle as he observed,--

"Oh, it's you, Sara: come in, come in! Here's a seat. Now, what can I do for you?"

"Thank you, squire; I came to get some money if you please."

"Money? Oh, yes, certainly. Want to borrow a little, eh? Well, I guess I could accommodate you; how much?"

She looked up inquiringly. "Not to borrow, squire; but I've had extra expenses, as you know; and, as father always leaves his money with you"--

The squire put down his paper, and looked at her so queerly the sentence died on her lips.

"I haven't any money of your father's--don't you know? He drew it all just before he sailed, and took it home; said his wife wanted him to.

She had dreamed of a good place to hide it in, I believe."

He smiled sarcastically as he made the explanation; and Sara, in her new tenderness toward the dead mother, resented this smile.

"Mother was a good manager," she said warmly, "and father always trusted her."

"Oh, of course! Reub Olmstead always trusts everybody; he's born that way. But didn't she tell you where she'd put it before she died?"

"No; but now I remember, she tried to, I'm sure. She began something about the money, but was too weak to finish--poor mother!"

"Quite likely; it's a pity she couldn't have finished. But then, you'll find it somewhere. Look in all the old stockings and sugar-bowls,-- there's where these people generally stow away their savings,--and if you don't find it, why, come to me; I can let you have a little, I guess, on interest of course."

He took up his paper again; and Sara, feeling sore and resentful, rose, said a curt "Very well," and walked out.

Two years ago she might not have noticed his contemptuous reference to "these people," nor to her father's innate trust in human nature; but now, for some reason, they rankled, and she was glad to get beyond the reach of his small, keen blue eyes and rasping voice.

CHAPTER III.

A SEARCH AND ITS ENDING.

Sara had not walked far, however, before she began to feel the silent, irresistible influences of the day. It was the balmy blossoming time.

The whole atmosphere was rich with sweet scents and sounds, while the sky had that marvellous depth and tone which makes the name of heaven seem no misnomer.

The sea, limpid and tender, wooed the sh.o.r.e with gentle whispers and caressings, which seemed to have no likeness to the wild rushes and blows of two months before. She looked towards it wistfully,--for Sara loved the sea,--then, yielding to the homesick impulse, turned from the narrow street to the beach, and walked briskly away towards a spur of rock which jutted into the water sharply at some distance away.

Arrived here, she sought with a.s.sured footsteps a certain zig-zag way-- it could hardly be called a path--which wound in and out among the bowlders, skipping some, leaping others, trenching on the edges of little pools left in some rocky hollow by the high tide, and finally led her, after a last steep scramble, into a niche of the sea's own hollowing, which she had always claimed as her own.

Seated just within, she could look down upon a narrow causeway, into which the water came tumbling through an aperture in the rocks much like a roughly shaped gothic window, and, having tumbled in, tumbled out again, with much curling and confusion, leaving its angry foam in sudsy heaps along the rocky edges which opposed its farther advance.

This bit of nature was named the "Devil's Causeway" by the natives, who have a way of bestowing all particularly grand and rugged sites upon that disagreeable personage; but Sara, having no mind to give up her favorite spot to his satanic majesty, always named it to herself the "Mermaid's Castle," and had a childish legend of her own about an enchanted princess confined here and guarded by the sea until the coming of the prince,--her lover.

Happy to be here once more, Sara leaned back against the rock, which felt warm, kindly, and familiar; then, removing her sun-bonnet, fanned her flushed face, and looked dreamily away to the pale opaline horizon, against which some sails showed inkily, like silhouettes.

She was wondering vaguely why sails should look so white in sh.o.r.e and so black far out to sea, when she was startled by a sharp tap! tap!

apparently at her very elbow.

She jumped a little, then listened wonderingly. It came again--tap!

tap! tap!--then a pause; and then an unmistakably human exclamation of impatience, while a bit of rock went whirling past her, to plunge with a resounding thud into the torrent below.

She leaned just the least bit forward and looked around the side of her alcove to see a funny sight. There stood a little man in the att.i.tude of the Colossus of Rhodes, his bare bald head red and perspiring, and his eyes glaring through huge gold-bowed gla.s.ses at a bit of rock in one hand, which he had evidently just broken off with the hammer in the other.

He was muttering something unintelligible to Sara, and looked altogether quite queer and cross enough to be a denizen of this ill-named locality.

Sara, laughing to herself at the funny apparition, was drawing into the rocky sh.e.l.l again, when a mischievous puff of wind suddenly caught her gingham bonnet from her limp grasp, and sent it flying down the chasm after the piece of rock.

She heard the exclamation again, louder and more guttural than before, then the full moon of a face peered around her sheltering wall, and the voice said,--

"Hein! A yoong mees! Beg pardong, then--have I deesturb you?"

"No, sir," rising to her feet; "only I've lost my sunbonnet!" looking ruefully down to where it hung tantalizingly in sight, but far out of reach, on a jutting point of rock. He looked too, then shrugged his shoulders with a sympathetic air.

"If I have only been some tall now, mees, or if I could some climb down there--but, alas!"

He shook his head, and threw out his hands with a helpless motion, and just then a clear whistle rose from the base of the cliff, giving the tune of "Annie Laurie." The two looking down then caught a glimpse of a strong white hand, issuing from a black coat-sleeve, which was extended towards them, as the nervous-looking fingers grasped a ledge of rock preparatory to a spring, when the little man burst out,--

"Ha! Mine nevew! Robare, Robare, look! look dis way!"

The whistle ceased, and a head was thrust forward,--a well-cropped, chestnut head,--while a voice as clear as the whistle sang out,--

"h.e.l.lo, uncle! That you, up there? How did you make it? Haven't got a rope to give me a lift, have you?"

"No, no, vait! Dat--dat--zing--Oh, you tell he!" turning impatiently to Sara, for, in trying to speak quickly, his limited English had quite deserted him.

She called out obediently, in her rich young voice,--

"Wait, please! Do you see the sunbonnet just above your head? If you will get it and go around to the beach, I'll meet you, and point out the way up here." "Indeed I will!" was the quick and courteous response; and she saw the fingers tighten, then the head give a little spring upwards, when the hand clutched the bonnet, and all disappeared.

"I have it," was called up an instant later. "Now for the beach!" Sara turned with a smile to the little man, who nodded kindly, raising his head to lift the hat that was not there, then, with a bewildered look, he whirled around two or three times and gazed at her helplessly.

_"Los'!"_ he murmured, with so comical a look of dismay that Sara could scarcely keep from laughing outright. "Los'! an' it ees tree now of dose hat that ees gone, alas!"

"Perhaps I can find it," she said encouragingly. "Why, what's that?"

suddenly catching sight of a bundle of things in a hollow just below.

Sure enough, there was the hat, also a coat, and a round tin box Sara was afterwards to know as a specimen-case. She sprang lightly down, handed them up to the absent-minded little geologist, and went on her way, meeting the nephew on the lower ledge.

He lifted his hat politely as he saw her, and, holding out the bonnet, said,--

"I presume this is your property?"

"Yes, thank you," she returned, flus.h.i.+ng a little as she received it.

"You were very kind to get it for me."