Nobody

CHAPTER XI

SUMMER MOVEMENTS

All things in the world, so far as the dwellers in Shampuashuh knew, went their usual course in peace for the next few months. Lois gatheredher strawberries, and Madge made her currant jelly. Peas ripened, andgreen corn was on the board, and potatoes blossomed, and young beetswere pulled, and peaches began to come. It was a calm, gentle life thelittle family lived; every day exceedingly like the day before, and yetevery day with something new in it. Small pieces of novelty, no doubt;a dish of tomatoes, or the first yellow raspberries, or a new patternfor a dress, or a new receipt for cake. Or they walked down to theshore and dug clams, some fine afternoon; or Mrs. Dashiell lent them anew book; or Mr. Dashiell preached an extraordinary sermon. It was avery slight ebb and flow of the tide of time; however, it served tokeep everything from stagnation. Then suddenly, at the end of July, came Mrs. Wishart's summons to Lois to join her on her way to the Islesof Shoals. "I shall go in about a week," the letter ran; "and I wantyou to meet me at the Shampuashuh station; for I shall go that way toBoston. I cannot stop, but I will have your place taken and all readyfor you. You must come, Lois, for I cannot do without you; and whenother people need you, you know, you never hesitate. Do not hesitatenow."

There was a good deal of hesitation, however, on one part and another, before the question was settled.

"Lois has just got home," said Charity. "I don't see what she should begoing again for. I should like to know if Mrs. Wishart thinks she ain'twanted at home!"

"People don't think about it," said Madge; "only what they wantthemselves. But it is a fine chance for Lois."

"Why don't she ask you?" said Charity.

"She thought Madge would enjoy a visit to her in New York more," said

Lois. "So she said to me."

"And so I would," cried Madge. "I don't care for a parcel of littleislands out at sea. But that would just suit Lois. What sort of a placeis the Isles of Shoals anyhow?"

"Just that," said Lois; "so far as I know. A parcel of little islands, out in the sea."

"Where at?" said Charity.

"I don't know exactly."

"Get the map and look."

"They are too small to be down on the map."

"What is Eliza Wishart wantin' to go there for?" asked Mrs. Armadale.

"O, she goes somewhere every year, grandma; to one place and another; and I suppose she likes novelty."

"That's a poor way to live," said the old lady. "But I suppose, bein'such a place, it'll be sort o' lonesome, and she wants you for company.May be she goes for her health."

"I think quite a good many people go there, grandma."

"There can't, if they're little islands out at sea. Most folks wouldn'tlike that. Do you want to go, Lois?"

"I would like it, very much. I just want to see what they are like, grandmother. I never did see the sea yet."

"You saw it yesterday, when we went for clams," said Charity scornfully.

"That? O no. That's not the sea, Charity."

"Well, it's mighty near it."

It seemed to be agreed at last that Lois should accept her cousin'sinvitation; and she made her preparations. She made them with greatdelight. Pleasant as the home-life was, it was quite favourable to thegrowth of an appetite for change and variety; and the appetite in Loiswas healthy and strong. The sea and the islands, and, on the otherhand, an intermission of gardening and fruit-picking; Shampuashuhpeople lost sight of for a time, and new, new, strange forms ofhumanity and ways of human life; the prospect was happy. And a happygirl was Lois, when one evening in the early part of August she joinedMrs. Wishart in the night train to Boston. That lady met her at thedoor of the drawing-room car, and led her to the little compartmentwhere they were screened off from the rest of the world.

"I am so glad to have you!" was her salutation. "Dear me, how well youlook, child! What have you been doing to yourself?"

"Getting brown in the sun, picking berries."

"You are not brown a bit. You are as fair as – whatever shall I compareyou to? Roses are common."

"Nothing better than roses, though," said Lois.

"Well, a rose you must be; but of the freshest and sweetest. We don'thave such roses in New York. Fact, we do not. I never see anything sofresh there. I wonder why?"

"People don't live out-of-doors picking berries," suggested Lois.

"What has berry-picking to do with it? My dear, it is a pity we shallhave none of your old admirers at the Isles of Shoals; but I cannotpromise you one. You see, it is off the track. The Caruthers are goingto Saratoga; they stayed in town after the mother and son got back fromFlorida. The Bentons are gone to Europe. Mr. Dillwyn, by the way, washe one of your admirers, Lois?"

"Certainly not," said Lois, laughing. "But I have a pleasantremembrance of him, he gave us such a good lunch one day. I am veryglad I am not going to see anybody I ever saw before. Where are theIsles of Shoals? and what are they, that you should go to see them?"

"I'm not going to see them – there's nothing to see, unless you like seaand rocks. I am going for the air, and because I must go somewhere, andI am tired of everywhere else. O, they're out in the Atlantic – sea allround them – queer, barren places. I am so glad I've got you, Lois! Idon't know a soul that's to be there – can't guess what we shall find; but I've got you, and I can get along."

"Do people go there just for health?"

"O, a few, perhaps; but the thing is what I am after – novelty; they arehardly the fashion yet."

"That is the very oddest reason for doing or not doing things!" saidLois. "Because it's the fashion! As if that made it pleasant, oruseful."

"It does!" said Mrs. Wishart. "Of course it does. Pleasant, yes, anduseful too. My dear, you don't want to be out of the fashion?"

"Why not, if the fashion does not agree with me?"

"O my dear, you will learn. Not to agree with the fashion, is to be outwith the world."

"With one part of it," said Lois merrily.

"Just the part that is of importance. Never mind, you will learn. Lois,I am so sleepy, I can not keep up any longer. I must curl down and takea nap. I just kept myself awake till we reached Shampuashuh. You hadbetter do as I do. My dear, I am very sorry, but I can't help it."

So Mrs. Wishart settled herself upon a heap of bags and wraps, took offher bonnet, and went to sleep. Lois did not feel in the least likefollowing her example. She was wide-awake with excitement andexpectation, and needed no help of entertainment from anybody. With herthoroughly sound mind and body and healthy appetites, every detail andevery foot of the journey was a pleasure to her; even the corner of adrawing-room car on a night train. It was such change and variety! andLois had spent all her life nearly in one narrow sphere and theself-same daily course of life and experience. New York had been onegreat break in this uniformity, and now came another. Islands in thesea! Lois tried to fancy what they would be like. So much resorted toalready, they must be very charming; and green meadows, shadowingtrees, soft shores and cosy nooks rose up before her imagination. Mr.Caruthers and his family were at Saratoga, that was well; but therewould be other people, different from the Shampuashuh type; and Loisdelighted in seeing new varieties of humankind as well as new portionsof the earth where they live. She sat wide-awake opposite to hersleeping hostess, and made an entertainment for herself out of theplace and the night journey. It was a starlit, sultry night; the worldoutside the hurrying train covered with a wonderful misty veil, underwhich it lay half revealed by the heavenly illumination; soft, mysterious, vast; a breath now and then whispering of nature'sluxuriant abundance and sweetness that lay all around, out there underthe stars, for miles and hundreds of miles. Lois looked and peered outsometimes, so happy that it was not Shampuashuh, and that she was away, and that she would see the sun shine on new landscapes when the morningcame round; and sometimes she looked within the car, and marvelled atthe different signs and tokens of human life and character that met herthere. And every yard of the way was a delight to her.

Meanwhile, how weirdly and strangely do the threads of human life crossand twine and untwine in this world!

That same evening, in New York, in the Caruthers mansion inTwenty-Third Street, the drawing-room windows were open to let in therefreshing breeze from the sea. The light lace curtains swayed to andfro as the wind came and went, but were not drawn; for Mrs. Caruthersliked, she said, to have so much of a screen between her and thepassers-by. For that matter, the windows were high enough above thestreet to prevent all danger of any one's looking in. The lights wereburning low in the rooms, on account of the heat; and within, inattitudes of exhaustion and helplessness sat mother and daughter intheir several easy-chairs. Tom was on his back on the floor, which, being nicely matted, was not the worst place. A welcome break to themonotony of the evening was the entrance of Philip Dillwyn. Tom got upfrom the floor to welcome him, and went back then to his formerposition.

"How come you to be here at this time of year?" Dillwyn asked. "It wasmere accident my finding you. Should never have thought of looking foryou. But by chance passing, I saw that windows were open and lightsvisible, so I concluded that something else might be visible if I camein."

"We are only just passing through," Julia explained. "Going to Saratogato-morrow. We have only just come from Newport."

"What drove you away from Newport? This is the time to be by the sea."

"O, who cares for the sea! or anything else? it's the people; and thepeople at Newport didn't suit mother. The Benthams were there, and thatset; and mother don't like the Benthams; and Miss Zagumski, thedaughter of the Russian minister, was there, and all the world wascrazy about her. Nothing was to be seen or heard but Miss Zagumski, andher dancing, and her playing, and her singing. Mother got tired of it."

"And yet Newport is a large place," remarked Philip.

"Too large," Mrs. Caruthers answered.

"What do you expect to find at Saratoga?"

"Heat," said Mrs. Caruthers; "and another crowd."

"I think you will not be disappointed, if this weather holds."

"It is a great deal more comfortable here!" sighed the elder lady."Saratoga's a dreadfully hot place! Home is a great deal morecomfortable."

"Then why not stay at home? Comfort is what you are after."

"O, but one can't! Everybody goes somewhere; and one must do aseverybody does."

"Why?"

"Philip, what makes you ask such a question?"

"I assure you, a very honest ignorance of the answer to it."

"Why, one must do as everybody does?"

"Yes."

The lady's tone and accent had implied that the answer wasself-evident; yet it was not given.

"Really," – Philip went on. "What should hinder you from staying in thispleasant house part of the summer, or all of the summer, if you findyourselves more comfortable here?"

"Being comfortable isn't the only thing," said Julia.

"No. What other consideration governs the decision? that is what I amasking."

"Why, Philip, there is nobody in town."

"That is better than company you do not like."

"I wish it was the fashion to stay in town," said Mrs. Caruthers."There is everything here, in one's own house, to make the heatendurable, and just what we miss when we go to a hotel. Large rooms, and cool nights, and clean servants, and gas, and baths – hotel roomsare so stuffy."

"After all, one does not live in one's rooms," said Julia.

"But," said Philip, returning to the charge, "why should not you, Mrs.Caruthers, do what you like? Why should you be displeased in Saratoga,or anywhere, merely because other people are pleased there? Why not doas you like?"

"You know one can't do as one likes in this world," Julia returned.

"Why not, if one can, – as you can?" said Philip, laughing.

"But that's ridiculous," said Julia, raising herself up with a littleshow of energy. "You know perfectly well, Mr. Dillwyn, that peoplebelonging to the world must do as the rest of the world do. Nobody isin town. If we stayed here, people would get up some unspeakable storyto account for our doing it; that would be the next thing."

"Dillwyn, where are you going?" said Tom suddenly from the floor, wherehe had been more uneasy than his situation accounted for.

"I don't know – perhaps I'll take your train and go to Saratoga too. Notfor fear, though."

"That's capital!" said Tom, half raising himself up and leaning on hiselbow. "I'll turn the care of my family over to you, and I'll seek thewilderness."

"What wilderness?" asked his sister sharply.

"Some wilderness – some place where I shall not see crinoline, nor beexpected to do the polite thing. I'll go for the sea, I guess."

"What have you in your head, Tom?"

"Refreshment."

"You've just come from the sea."

"I've just come from the sea where it was fashionable. Now I'll findsome place where it is unfashionable. I don't favour Saratoga any morethan you do. It's a jolly stupid; that's what it is."

"But where do you want to go, Tom? you have some place in your head."

"I'd as lief go off for the Isles of Shoals as anywhere," said Tom, lying down again. "They haven't got fashionable yet. I've a notion tosee 'em first."

"I doubt about that," remarked Philip gravely. "I am not sure but the

Isles of Shoals are about the most distinguished place you could go to."

"Isles of Shoals. Where are they? and what are they?" Julia asked.

"A few little piles of rock out in the Atlantic, on which it spends itswrath all the year round; but of course the ocean is not always raging; and when it is not raging, it smiles; and they say the smile is nowheremore bewitching than at the Isles of Shoals," Philip answered.

"But will nobody be there?"

"Nobody you would care about," returned Tom.

"Then what'll you do?"

"Fish."

"Tom! you're not a fisher. You needn't pretend it."

"Sun myself on the rocks."

"You are brown enough already."

"They say, everything gets bleached there."

"Then I should like to go. But I couldn't stand the sea and solitude, and I don't believe you can stand it. Tom, this is ridiculous. You'renot serious?"

"Not often," said Tom; "but this time I am. I am going to the Isles ofShoals. If Philip will take you to Saratoga, I'll start to-morrow; otherwise I will wait till I get you rooms and see you settled."

"Is there a hotel there?"

"Something that does duty for one, as I understand."

"Tom, this is too ridiculous, and vexatious," remonstrated his sister.

"We want you at Saratoga."

"Well, it is flattering; but you wanted me at St. Augustine a littlewhile ago, and you had me. You can't always have a fellow. I'm going tosee the Isles of Shoals before they're the rage. I want to get cooledoff, for once, after Florida and Newport, besides."

"Isn't that the place where Mrs. Wishart is gone," said Philip now.

"I don't know – yes, I believe so."

"Mrs. Wishart!" exclaimed Julia in a different tone. "She gone to the

Isles of Shoals?"

"'Mrs. Wishart!" Mrs. Caruthers echoed. "Has she got that girl withher?"

Silence. Then Philip remarked with a laugh, that Tom's plan of "coolingoff" seemed problematical.

"Tom," said his sister solemnly, "is Miss Lothrop going to be there?"

"Don't know, upon my word," said Tom. "I haven't heard."

"She is, and that's what you're going for. O Tom, Tom!" cried hissister despairingly. "Mr. Dillwyn, what shall we do with him?"

"Can't easily manage a fellow of his size, Miss Julia. Let him take hischance."

"Take his chance! Such a chance!"

"Yes, Philip," said Tom's mother; "you ought to stand by us."

"With all my heart, dear Mrs. Caruthers; but I am afraid I should be aweak support. Really, don't you think Tom might do worse?"