The Tides of Barnegat | Page 7

Martha patting the
girl's arm and laying her cheek against it as she walked. Meg had
ceased barking and was now sniffing at Lucy's skirts, his bent tail
wagging slowly, his sneaky eyes looking up into Lucy's face.

"Will he bite, Martha?" she asked, shrinking to one side. She had an
aversion to anything physically imperfect, no matter how lovable it
might be to others. This tattered example struck her as particularly
objectionable.
"No, darlin'--nothin' 'cept his food," and Martha laughed.
"What a horrid little beast!" Lucy said half aloud to herself, clinging all
the closer to the nurse. "This isn't the dog sister Jane wrote me about, is
it? She said you loved him dearly--you don't, do you?"
"Yes, that's the same dog. You don't like him, do you, darlin'?"
"No, I think he's awful," retorted Lucy in a positive tone.
"It's all I had to pet since you went away," Martha answered
apologetically.
"Well, now I'm home, give him away, please. Go away, you dreadful
dog!" she cried, stamping her foot as Meg, now reassured, tried to jump
upon her.
The dog fell back, and crouching close to Martha's side raised his eyes
appealingly, his ear and tail dragging.
Jane now joined them. She had stopped to pick some blossoms for the
house.
"Why, Lucy, what's poor Meg done?" she asked, as she stooped over
and stroked the crestfallen beast's head. "Poor old doggie--we all love
you, don't we?"
"Well, just please love him all to yourselves, then," retorted Lucy with
a toss of her head. "I wouldn't touch him with a pair of tongs. I never
saw anything so ugly. Get away, you little brute!"
"Oh, Lucy, dear, don't talk so," replied the older sister in a pitying tone.
"He was half starved when Martha found him and brought him
home--and look at his poor back--"

"No, thank you; I don't want to look at his poor back, nor his poor tail,
nor anything else poor about him. And you will send him away, won't
you, like a dear good old Martha?" she added, patting Martha's
shoulder in a coaxing way. Then encircling Jane's waist with her arm,
the two sisters sauntered slowly back to the house. Martha followed
behind with Meg.
Somehow, and for the first time where Lucy was concerned, she felt a
tightening of her heart-strings, all the more painful because it had
followed so closely upon the joy of their meeting. What had come over
her bairn, she said to herself with a sigh, that she should talk so to
Meg--to anything that her old nurse loved, for that matter? Jane
interrupted her reveries.
"Did you give Meg a bath, Martha?" she asked over her shoulder. She
had seen the look of disappointment in the old nurse's face and,
knowing the cause, tried to lighten the effect.
"Yes--half water and half sand. Doctor John came along with Rex
shinin' like a new muff, and I was ashamed to let him see Meg. He's
comin' up to see you to-night, Lucy, darlin'," and she bent forward and
tapped the girl's shoulder to accentuate the importance of the
information.
Lucy cut her eye in a roguish way and twisted her pretty head around
until she could look into Jane's eyes.
"Who do you think he's coming to see, sister?"
"Why, you, you little goose. They're all coming --Uncle Ephraim has
sent over every day to find out when you would be home, and Bart Holt
was here early this morning, and will be back to-night."
"What does Bart Holt look like?"--she had stopped in her walk to pluck
a spray of lilac blossoms. "I haven't seen him for years; I hear he's
another one of your beaux," she added, tucking the flowers into Jane's
belt. "There, sister, that's just your color; that's what that gray dress
needs. Tell me, what's Bart like?"

"A little like Captain Nat, his father," answered Jane, ignoring Lucy's
last inference, "not so stout and--"
"What's he doing?"
"Nothin', darlin', that's any good," broke in Martha from behind the two.
"He's sailin' a boat when he ain't playin' cards or scarin' everybody
down to the beach with his gun, or shyin' things at Meg."
"Don't you mind anything Martha says, Lucy," interrupted Jane in a
defensive tone. "He's got a great many very good qualities; he has no
mother and the captain has never looked after him. It's a great wonder
that he is not worse than he is."
She knew Martha had spoken the truth, but she still hoped that her
influence might help him, and then again, she never liked to hear even
her acquaintances criticised.
"Playing cards! That all?" exclaimed Lucy, arching her eyebrows; her
sister's excuses for the delinquent evidently made no impression on her.
"I don't think playing cards