Janet of the Dunes | Page 5

everything."
This unnerved Billy.
"That's logic," he nodded, "an' it's good-heartedness, as well; but, Janet, I'm goin' to tell ye somewhat of yer mother." He took a key from his pocket, unlocked the chest and raised the lid.
"Them things is hers!" he said reverently. "Little frocks--" Three he laid out upon the floor. Cheap, rather gaudy they were, but of cut and fashion unknown to the beach-bred girl. "And little under-thin's, an' a hat, an' sacque; shoes--just look at them, Janet! Little feet they covered, but such willin' little feet, always a-trottin' 'bout till the very last, so turrible afraid they wouldn't be grateful enough. Lord! but that was what she said." The pitiful store of woman's clothing lay near Janet, but she made no motion to touch it.
"And this is her!" Captain Billy took a photograph from the bottom of the chest, unwrapped it from its covering of tissue paper, and handed it to the quiet girl opposite. "This is her, an' as like as life! The same little hat on, what she set such store by! I ain't had the heart t' show ye this before." Janet seized the card eagerly. The light from a small window in the roof fell full upon it.
"Oh!" she breathed, "she was--why, Cap'n Billy, she was more than pretty! I think I should have felt her more if I had seen this."
"Maybe, Janet."
"Am--am I like her?"
"Like as not, if ye was whiter an' spindlin'er, there'd be a likeness." An uneasiness struggled in Billy's inner consciousness as he viewed the girl. "Ye're more wild-like," he added.
"I wish I had asked a lot about her," Janet whispered, and there was a mist in her eyes; "I have been careless just because I've been happy. It seems as if we had sort of pushed her away, and kept her still."
"Well, it's her turn t' speak now, girl, an' that's what I've been steerin' round t'. Ye're hers an'--"
"And yours, Cap'n Billy, even if you have taught me to say Captain, instead of Father."
"It was her word for me, child, an' ye added Daddy of yer own will. 'My Cap'n,' she use t' say. It sounded awful soothin'; an' her so grateful 'bout nothin'! Sho! An' she wanted ye to be a help long o' me. Them was her words. An' Lordy! child, I'm willin' t' work an' share with ye--but savin' is pretty hard when there ain't nothin' much t' save from, an' if this summer-boardin' business is goin' t' open up a chance fur ye, it ain't cause I want help, but she'd like ye t' have more things. Don't ye see? An' I jest know ye'll get yer innin's on the mainland."
"I have been a selfish girl!" Janet murmured, holding the photograph closer, "a human crab; just clinging and gripping you. Then running wild and fighting against you when you wanted me to learn to be useful! I think, Cap'n Billy, if you had shown me--my mother, and talked more of her--maybe it would have been different. Maybe not,"--with a soft sigh,--"I reckon every one has to be ready for seeing. I don't just know how to--how to get my share from those--those boarders. But I'll find a way! I mean to be helpful, Cap'n. I can't bring myself to wait on them. Mrs. Jo G. doesn't seem to mind that, but I do. And I hate to see them eat--in crowds. But I'll find something to do. Put the clothes in the carpet-bag, Cap'n Billy Daddy; I may not wear them over there, but I'd like to have them. May I take the picture?"
"Yes, only be powerful careful o' it. An' don't show it round. Somehow she seems to belong to nobody but jest us two."
CHAPTER II
Captain David began to climb the long flight of iron stairs. It was his custom to start early, in order that he might stop upon each landing and take a view of the land and water on his way up. As David got higher and higher, his spirits rose in proportion. Below were duty and care; aloft was the Light, that was his pride and glory, and the freedom of solitude and silence!
When David began his climb--because it was the manner of the man to face life with a song upon his lips--he hummed softly:
"I would not live alway, No, welcome the tomb."
He paused on the first landing and took in the satisfying prospect of his garden, edged around by summer flowers and showing a thrifty collection of needful vegetables.
"And only man is vile!" panted David, starting upward, and changing his song. By the time the third landing was reached care and anxiety were about forgotten and the outlook upon the rippling bay was inspiring.
"And we put three shots in the lobster pots, Three cheers for the witches