The Tides of Barnegat | Page 5

but the
sun blinded me, and I couldn't see. And ye never saw a better nor a
brighter mornin'. These spring days is all blossoms, and they ought to
be. Where ye goin', anyway, that ye're in such a hurry? Ain't nobody
sick up to Cap'n Holt's, be there?" she added, a shade of anxiety
crossing her face.
"No, Martha; it's the dressmaker," answered the doctor, tightening the
reins on the restless sorrel as he spoke. The voice was low and kindly
and had a ring of sincerity through it.
"What dressmaker?"
"Why, Miss Gossaway!" His hand was extended now--that fine,
delicately wrought, sympathetic hand that had soothed so many aching

heads.
"You've said it," laughed Martha, leaning over the wheel so as to press
his fingers in her warm palm. "There ain't no doubt 'bout that skinny
fright being 'Miss,' and there ain't no doubt 'bout her stayin' so. Ann
Gossaway she is, and Ann Gossaway she'll die. Is she took bad?" she
continued, a merry, questioning look lighting up her kindly face, her
lips pursed knowingly.
"No, only a sore throat" the doctor replied, loosening his coat.
"Throat!" she rejoined, with a wry look on her face. "Too bad 'twarn't
her tongue. If ye could snip off a bit o' that some day it would help
folks considerable 'round here."
The doctor laughed in answer, dropped the lines over the dashboard
and leaned forward in his seat, the sun lighting up his clean-cut face.
Busy as he was--and there were few busier men in town, as every
hitching-post along the main street of Warehold village from Billy
Tatham's, the driver of the country stage, to Captain Holt's, could
prove--he always had time for a word with the old nurse.
"And where have YOU been, Mistress Martha?" he asked, with a smile,
dropping his whip into the socket, a sure sign that he had a few more
minutes to give her.
"Oh, down to the beach to git some o' the dirt off Meg. Look at
him--did ye ever see such a rapscallion! Every time I throw him in he's
into the sand ag'in wallowin' before I kin git to him."
The doctor bent his head, and for an instant watched the two dogs: Meg
circling about Rex, all four legs taut, his head jerking from side to side
in his eagerness to be agreeable to his roadside acquaintance; the
agate-eyed setter returning Meg's attentions with the stony gaze of a
club swell ignoring a shabby relative. The doctor smiled thoughtfully.
There was nothing he loved to study so much as dogs --they had a
peculiar humor of their own, he often said, more enjoyable sometimes
than that of men-- then he turned to Martha again.

"And why are you away from home this morning of all others?" he
asked. "I thought Miss Lucy was expected from school to-day?"
"And so she is, God bless her! And that's why I'm here. I was that
restless I couldn't keep still, and so I says to Miss Jane, 'I'm goin' to the
beach with Meg and watch the ships go by; that's the only thing that'll
quiet my nerves. They're never in a hurry with everybody punchin' and
haulin' them.' Not that there's anybody doin' that to me, 'cept like it is
to-day when I'm waitin' for my blessed baby to come back to me. Two
years, doctor--two whole years since I had my arms round her.
Wouldn't ye think I'd be nigh crazy?"
"She's too big for your arms now, Martha," laughed the doctor,
gathering up his reins. "She's a woman--seventeen, isn't she?"
"Seventeen and three months, come the fourteenth of next July. But
she's not a woman to me, and she never will be. She's my wee bairn
that I took from her mother's dyin' arms and nursed at my own breast,
and she'll be that wee bairn to me as long as I live. Ye'll be up to see
her, won't ye, doctor?"
"Yes, to-night. How's Miss Jane?" As he made the inquiry his eyes
kindled and a slight color suffused his cheeks.
"She'll be better for seein' ye," the nurse answered with a knowing look.
Then in a louder and more positive tone, "Oh, ye needn't stare so with
them big brown eyes o' yourn. Ye can't fool old Martha, none o' you
young people kin. Ye think I go round with my eyelids sewed up. Miss
Jane knows what she wants--she's proud, and so are you; I never knew
a Cobden nor a Cavendish that warn't. I haven't a word to say--it'll be a
good match when it comes off. Where's that Meg? Good-by, doctor. I
won't keep ye a minute longer from MISS Gossaway. I'm sorry it ain't
her tongue, but if it's only her throat she