Now all the best of his nature came to the front, and he had never felt more bitterly ashamed of himself than when he realized that his thoughtless proposition had been an insult to the afflicted, shrinking girl. Warmed by the love and appreciation of her Water Lily friends she "had come out of her sh.e.l.l" of reserve and been most happy. Now this boy had forced her back again; to remembering that after all she was but a very poor girl, deformed, despised, and considered simply fit to make a mountebank of herself, going about the city streets with apes! Oh! it was very dimly that Elsa could see the outlines of a whitewashed cabin in the fields, because of the tears which filled her eyes.

"Hold on, Elsa! Forgive me if you can. I'm ashamed of myself. I don't know what makes me such a cad, I don't! You know. Except I've been brought up to think I was a rich boy and that a rich boy can do no harm. I could kick myself from here to Halifax. Please don't mind.

Why, you're the cleverest girl of the lot, you are, you know. n.o.body else dared tackle--"

He caught himself up sharply. Not for his life would he again utter that hateful word "monkey" to her. But he added with real sincerity, "I'm so sorry I'll do anything in the world to prove it, that you ask me to do. I will, upon honor."

Elsa couldn't hold malice against anybody and in her heart had already forgiven him his hurt of her, with her habitual thought: "He didn't mean it." So she smiled again and accepted his statement as truth.

"Well I don't know as I shall ever want you to do anything to 'prove it', but if I do I'll tell you. Sure."

Little did Gerald dream how rash a promise he had made. The cabin in the fields was the one in which he had lain so helpless. As he recognized it he exclaimed:

"Good! I'll try that childish 'charm' every time!

'My--mother--told--me--right'. That's home to this little shaver and I'm mighty glad we're there."

But it seemed a very different home from that which had sheltered him so well. The children were grouped about the door, only Wesley and Saint Anne daring to enter the room where poor Lucetta lay p.r.o.ne on the floor, looking so white and motionless that, for a moment, the newcomers believed that she was dead.

Saint Anne lifted a quivering face toward them but could not speak, Wesley hid his face in his arm and blubbered audibly.

Then did all the little woman in Elsa's nature respond to this sudden need.

"Lay Saint Augustine on that bench, where somebody must have slept.

Help me to lift the lady to the bed. Don't cry, little girl. She'll soon be all right. It's just a faint, I'm sure. I've fainted myself, often and often. I guess she's overdone. Isn't there a man here?"

"No, ma'am. Papa he comed home an' Mamma she tol' him how Sa--Saint Augustine had run away and he frew down his gun an' all them games, an'--an'--just hollered out loud! 'Oh! my G.o.d'! an' run off, too.

Mamma was gone all night, lookin' after little brother an' when she heard papa say that she fell right down there and she don't speak when we call her. Where'd you find him, our little brother? Was he down in Tony's Eddy?"

Well, Gerald felt in that state when "anybody could knock him down with a feather." He was obeying Elsa implicitly, already "proving" he had meant his promise. He felt such an access of manly strength that it was almost unaided he lifted Lucetta and laid her on the bed. In reality, she was already regaining consciousness, and slightly aided him herself. Then he ran to the spring and brought the "cold water--coldest you can find" which Elsa ordered, and lifted Mrs.

Stillwell's shoulders while the girl held the tin cup to her lips; and indeed did so many little things so deftly that he didn't recognize himself.

Even in her half-stupor Lucetta was her own sweet self, for when she had swallowed the water she smiled upon her nurse and tried to speak.

Elsa antic.i.p.ated what she knew would be the one great longing of that mother's heart, and said with an answering smile:

"We've brought your little son safe home. If you can turn your head you'll see. Right yonder on that bench. He's tired out and, maybe, a little sick but he's safe. Do you mean you want him right beside you?"

Lucetta made an effort to sit up and opened her arms.

"Lie right still. Don't you fret for one moment. Here's your baby. Now I'm going home and we'll get a doctor some way and quick. But you won't be alone. Gerald, whom you took care of when he was ill, is here. He'll stay and take care of you in turn now. Good-bye. Don't worry."

She was gone before Gerald could even protest, calling the monkeys to follow her and limping away faster than anybody else, with two sound feet, could run. She had taken him at his word, indeed!

CHAPTER XV.

IN THE HEART OF AN ANCIENT WOOD.

Deep in the heart of the September woods there was gathered one morning a little company of greatly excited people. Old Cap'n Jack was the wildest of the lot. Next him in point of eagerness was the Colonel. Corny Stillwell was there; so was his brother Wicky, who had come across country to see how now fared Lucetta, the "shiftless" wife of his "energetic" brother. Of late these terms had been exchanged in the minds of the Wickliffe Stillwells, owing to various statements made them by their new friends, the "Water Lilies." Being honest and warm-hearted they hadn't hesitated to express their change of opinion; and it was a fact that though Lucetta Stillwell had never been so ill in her life she had never been so comfortable.

Lizzie, her sister-in-law, never allowed herself the extravagance of keeping "help;" but it was she who had hunted up a good old "Mammy"

and established her in the lean-to of the little cabin. She had bidden this good cook:

"See to it that Lucetty has nourishments continual, and do for mercy's sake, feed them skinny childern till they get flesh on their bones!

They're a real disgrace to the neighborhood, the pinched way they look, and I shan't set easy in meetin' if I can't think they're fatted up right. You do the feedin' and we-all'll find you the stuff."

So on this special morning Lizzie had despatched her husband with a small wagonload of vegetables and poultry; and having left his load at the cabin, the sociable man had driven on to the Copse, to meet and inquire for the "Lilies." Arrived at the boat, Aunt Betty had eagerly greeted him, explaining:

"You're a man of sense and mighty welcome just now. Our people have gone actually daft over a dirty piece of paper and a few French words scribbled on it. The precious doc.u.ment belongs to the Colonel--Oh!

yes, he's here. He has been sometime. I think he means to tarry developments--that will never be. He's infected all my family with his crazy notions and they're off now on this wild-goose search for 'buried treasure.' I wish you'd go and warn them that they mustn't trespa.s.s on private property, for I believe they'll stop at nothing in their folly."

"I've heered about that there 'treasure.' I 'low more time's been spent by fools lookin' for it 'an would ha', arn't 'em a livin'. Sure.

Yes ma'am, they has so. How many's at it now, Mrs. Calvert?"

She laughingly counted upon her fingers:

"The Colonel; the Captain; old Ephraim; James, Melvin, Gerald. Nor could Mabel, Aurora, Dorothy--Oh! by no means least, Dorothy!--resist the temptation to follow. And if I'm not greatly mistaken, I saw Chloe sneaking through the underbush a little while ago, with Metty in hand.

I've heard nothing but 'buried treasure' ever since Gerald blundered upon a fancied trail, coming home from his second stay at your brother's. Elsa, here, hasn't caught the fever. She's the only one among us, I believe _hasn't_ caught the money fever, for I confess even I am curious to hear the outcome--absurd as I know it to be. Mrs.

Bruce says nothing. She's a wise woman who knows enough to set a check upon her lips--which you'll see I don't. So, if you'll be kind enough to 'light,' as they say here, and try to keep my people out of mischief, I'll consider it another proof of your friendship."

Farmer Wicky was flattered by the confidence which she had always reposed in him, and sided with her entirely.

"If I had any rights to any hid treasures, which I haven't; and I expected to find it, which I don't; I wouldn't be the feller to go publish it broadcast this way. I'd keep it to myself an' do my own diggin'; onless, course, I'd tell Lizzie. Why, Ma'am, Mrs. Calvert, I 'low 't the hull state o' Maryland's been dug over, ten foot deep, from Pennsylvania to old Virginny, with the hull Eastern Sho' flung in, a-lookin' for what hain't never been put there--'ceptin' them same shovels. Maybe that's what makes our sile so rich an' gives us our wonderful crops! Ha, ha, ha!"

Aunt Betty was "ha, ha, ha-ing," too, inwardly; for despite himself, a great eagerness had lighted the farmer's face at mention of this last digging-excursion. As soon as he could do so he rose and hastily struck off into the woods.

She made her mirth audible as the branches closed behind him, exclaiming to Mrs. Bruce:

"There's another one! I'm afraid I'm responsible for this last crack-brain; and--and--the disease is catching. I declare I'd like to pin up my skirts and travel the road the rest have taken! But I'll read a little in Don Quixote, instead. I wonder when they'll be back!"

Meanwhile, the trail was growing "hot" in the depth of that old forest, or grove. It was, indeed, part of a great private park known as "Cecilia's Manor," and it was the pride of its owners to keep it intact as it had come down to them.

Captain Jack held the floor, so to speak, with the less talkative but more deeply interested--if not excited--Colonel, occasionally interrupting and correcting.

"Yes, siree! We've struck the gulf-stream 'at leads _di_-rect and straight, to the spot! Woods, says you? Here they be. Stream o' water?

There she flows! Ford an' deers feedin'? Course, they's the very identical! Tracks an' all----"

"Them's cow tracks," corrected farmer Wicky, while Corny laughed and nudged his brother to let the farce proceed.

"Well, now, mate, how d'ye _know_ them's cows' tracks? You don't _see_ cows around, do ye? No, I don't see cows, nuther; so, 'cordin' to ship's law what you don't know you can't prove. Ahem. Path? If this here we've come ain't a crooked-zig-zag I never stumped one. Here's a tree, been struck by lightin', 'pears like; a-holdin' out its arms to keep the hangin' vines on 'em, exactly like a cross. Or nigh exactly."

"Hold on, Cap'n Jack! In the map the zig-zag line stops at the tree.

This one goes ever so much beyond."

The Captain glared round upon the audacious Cornwallis, who dared gibe at his a.s.sertions. Then standing as upright as he could, he shouted:

"Now face that way--North, ain't it? Right about--South! Yonder's East, an' t'other side's West. I allows I knows the p'ints of the compa.s.s if I don't know nothin' else. I tell you, _this is the spot_.