Happy House Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  WEBB

  A clatter of departing hoofs, a swirl of dust--and Nancy was left aloneon the hot railroad platform of North Hero. Her heart had seemed tofix itself in one painful lump in her throat. She was so very, veryclose to facing her adventure!

  "If you please, can you tell me in what way I can reach Freedom?" Herfaltering voice halted the telegraph operator as he was about to turnthe corner of the station.

  "Freedom? Well, now, old Webb had ought 'a been here for the train.Isn't often Webb misses seein' the engine come in! Just you go in andsit down, Miss, he'll come along," and scarcely had the encouragingwords passed the man's lips than a rickety, three-seated,canopied-topped wagon, marked "Freedom Stage" turned the corner.

  "_Hey_, Webb, here's a lady passenger goin' along with you to Freedom!And did you think the express would wait fer you?"

  Webb and his dusty, rusty and rickety wagon was a welcome sight to poorNancy. It had already seemed to her that her journey was endless andthat Freedom must be in the farthest corner of the world. For thefirst few hours she had been absorbed by her grief at parting withAnne. But a night in a funny little hotel in Burlington had given hertime to reflect upon her undertaking and it had assumed terribleproportions in her eyes. The courage and confidence she had felt withher chums, back in the room in the dormitory, deserted her now.

  "Goin' to Freedom you say, Miss?" the man Webb asked, a great curiosityin his eyes. "Wal, you jes' come along with me! Had an order forTobiases and it set me late, but we'll git thar. Climb up here, Miss,"and with a flourishing aside of his reins he made room for her on thedusty seat he occupied.

  Nancy handed him her big bag and climbed easily over the wheel into theseat he had indicated. Then with a loud "get-ap" and a flourish of hiswhip they rumbled off on the last leg of Nancy's journey.

  "Ain't ever been to Freedom before?" he asked as they turned the cornerof the maple-shaded street of the little town, and the horses settleddown into a steady trot. "Reckon not or old Webb 'ud have knownye--ain't any folks come and go on this here island thet _I_ don'tknow," he added with pride, dropping his reins for a better study ofhis passenger.

  The air was fragrant with spring odors, the great trees met in aquivery archway overhead, the meadow lands they passed were richlygreen; Nancy's failing spirits began to soar! She threw a little smiletoward the old man.

  "I've never been in Freedom before--though I'm a Leavitt," she ventured.

  Her words had the desired effect. The man straightened with interest.

  "Wal, bless me, are ye one o' Miss Sabriny's folks? And a-goin' toHappy House when ye ain't ever seen it?"

  Nancy nodded. "I'm Anne Leavitt," she answered carefully. "And I havenever seen my Aunt Sabrina. So I have come up from college for alittle visit. And I think _everything_ is lovely," she finished,drawing a long breath, "though, goodness knows, I thought I'd never gethere!"

  She was uncomfortably conscious that the old man was regarding her withopen concern.

  "Funny, no one ain't heard a word about it! So ye're Miss Sabriny'sgreat-niece and a-comin' to Happy House from your school fer a visit!"

  "Why, yes, why not?"

  "Wal, I was jes' thinkin' you'd never _seen_ Happy House. And I guessmost folks in Freedom's forgotten Miss Sabriny hed any folksmuch--count of the trouble!"

  "Oh, _what_ trouble, please, Mr. Webb?"

  The old man shook his reins vigorously against the horses' backs.

  "Webb, you're an old fool--an old, dodderin' fool! Of course this heretrouble was a long spell ago, Miss, and don't belong to Leavitts younglike you. I s'pose it want much, anyways, and I guess Miss Sabrinyherself's forgotten it else you wouldn't be a comin' to Happy House!I'm an old man, missy, and thar ain't been much in Freedom as I don'tknow about, but an old un'd ought 'a know 'nough to keep his tongue inhis head. Only--you come to Webb if anything bothers you and youneedn't call me _Mr_. Webb, either, for though I'm one of Freedom'sleadin' cit-zuns and they'd never be a Memorial Day or any kind ofFourth of July doin's in Freedom without _me_--nobody calls me MisterWebb and you jus' come to me----"

  Nancy, forgetful now of the pleasant things about her, frowned.

  "You're very nice to me, Webb, and I'm glad to have made a friend sosoon! I think the trouble _has_ been forgotten. Anyway, I'm onlygoing to stay a little while."

  "And a good thing it'll be fur Miss Milly, too."

  "Miss Milly----" asked Nancy.

  "It ain't no easy life fur her livin' with Miss Sabriny holdin' thesword of wrath over her poor head, and there's lots of folks think MissMilly'd be a heap happier in the old graveyard than in Happy House,'lowin' as how both feet are in the grave anyway. But this ain't nocheerful talk to hand out to you, Miss, only I cal'late you'll makeMiss Milly a heap happier--shut up the way she is."

  "How far are we from Freedom?" asked Nancy, abruptly, thinking as shedid so that, if they were a very long way, she would have anopportunity to learn from her garrulous friend all she needed to know!

  "Two mile from the turn yonder by the oak," the old man answered.

  For a few moments both maintained a deep silence. Nancy, her thoughtsin a tumult, was wondering what question she would ask first--there wasso much she wanted to know--the "trouble," "Miss Milly and the sword ofwrath" or what he meant by "Happy House." The last post stirred hercuriosity; then, too, it did not seem just nice to pry from this oldman.

  "Why do they call the Leavitt place 'Happy House'?"

  "Wal, I guess it ain't because it's exactly _happy_, and some sez mebbeas how it's been a curse! Folks comes here to Freedom and looks at theold place and there's somethin' printed about it in a little book theysell up at Tobiases in Nor' Hero, only I ain't much on the readin'.B'lindy Guest knows the story by heart, and she can tell you more'n Ican."

  "Oh, _please_, Webb, I can't make head or tail out of what you aresaying," laughed Nancy pleadingly. "Who _called_ it Happy House first?"

  "B'lindy sez the book sez that it was the first Anne Leavitt as come toNor' Hero called it Happy House and they hed one of these here mantelsmade out o' marble over in London and fetched across with the lettersright in it spellin' Happy House! And she helped fix it up with herown hands she'd kind o' set such store by the idee, right thar in thesettin' room and the very next day she slipped off sudden like and diedlike a poor little flower. And there ain't been much happiness inHappy House from them days since! B'lindy knows the hul story; jes''sits written."

  "Oh, how _thrilling_!" cried Nancy, breathing very fast. She had anuncontrollable desire to halt Webb and the Freedom stage right on thespot in order to write to Claire Wallace. But at that moment, aroundthe turn by the old oak galloped a horse and rider. Because it was thefirst living creature Nancy had seen since leaving North Hero, she wasstartled.

  "_Hey_ there, Webb," the rider cried, whirling out of the path of theold wagon.

  And Webb called back in cheery greeting: "_Hey_, Pete!"

  Through the cloud of dust Nancy had caught a glimpse of a pair of merryeyes set deep in a face as brown as the dark shirt the man wore.Turning impulsively in her seat she noticed, with an unexplainablesense of pleasure, that the bare head of the rider was exceptionallywell shaped and covered with short curly hair. Then, to her suddendiscomfiture, the rider wheeled directly in the road and pulled hishorse up short.

  It was, of course, because he was the first real person she had seen onthis big lonely Island that prompted her to nod ever so slightly inresponse to his friendly wave! Then she turned discreetly back to Webb.

  "Who is he?" she asked, in what she tried to make an indifferent tone.

  "Peter Hyde an' as nice a young fellar as ever come to Freedom! Ain'tbeen here much more'n a week and knows everybody. He's old manJudson's hired man and he's goin' to make somethin' of that ten-acrestrip of Judson's some day or my name ain't Cyrenus Webb!"

  "_Judson's hired man_!" cried Nancy, chagrined. What _would_ Annethink of
her--to have recognized, even in the slightest degree, theimpertinence of this fellow! Her face burned at the thought.

  "Seems to have a lot of learnin' but he's awful simple like and ahustler. Nobody knows whereabouts he come from--jes' dropped by out ofsome advertisement old Judson put in the papers up Burlington way."

  "Tell me more about Freedom," broke in Nancy with dignity. "Is it avery old place?"

  "Wal, it's jest as old as this Island, though I ain't much on readin'or dates. Folks on Nor' Hero's pretty proud of the hul Island andB'lindy sez as how it's printed that folks settled here long 'foreanyone, exceptin' the Indians, ever heard of Manhattan Island whar NewYork is. Used to be French first round here but they didn't stay long,and then the English come down 'fore the Revolution and the Leavittswith them, I guess. This here Island's named fur Ethan Allen, youknow, and folks sez old Jonathan, thet works up at Happy House, is aconnection of his. All the folks round here's related some way orother to them pi'neers and I guess if we hed to put up a fight now we'ddo it jest as brave as them Green Mountain Boys! The old smithy's beenstandin' on the four corners for nigh onto one hundred years and themeetin' house facin' the commons, B'lindy sez, is older than thesmithy. And up the Leavitt road thar's a tablet these here Daughtersof somethin' or other from Montpelier put up for some pi'neers thatdied fightin' the Indians while their women folks set off in boats forthe mainland. I heard B'lindy tell that at the last social down at themeetin' house. I cal'late some of them pi'neers were Leavitts, atthat, fur it want long before that the pretty lady came who hed thename built in the mantel. B'lindy knows--she can tell jes' what daythe pretty lady come and the very room she died in. B'lindy was bornin the old house and she and Miss Sabriny growed up like sisters thoughB'lindy's a good sight younger and spryer like than Miss Sabriny!"

  From the warmth of his tone Nancy guessed that there was a weak spot inWebb's heart for B'lindy.

  "Tell me more about B'lindy," she asked, softly.

  "Wal, if you jus' take a bit of advice from an old man you be _purty_nice to B'lindy! Folks sez that Miss Sabriny's high and mightier thanthe worst Leavitt, and they're a mighty proud lot, but I jus' got anotion that the only person who runs Miss Sabriny is B'lindy and I sorto' think she runs the hul of Happy House! And now here I am agossipin' so with a pretty passenger that I clean furgot to leave offthat chicken wire for Jenkins. _Whoa_, there, whoa, I say!"

  Nancy guessed that the cluster of housetops she glimpsed ahead, almosthidden by the great elms and maples, was Freedom. She stared at themreflectively. Through Webb she seemed suddenly to feel that she hadknown the little tragedies and joys of Freedom all her life. She wasnot a bit afraid now to meet Aunt Sabrina or this Miss Milly orB'lindy. And she was eager to see the old, old house and the spotwhere Leavitts had been massacred as they protected their women! Afterall, it was going to be very pleasant--this playing at being one of theold Leavitts! She wished Webb would hurry.

  When Farmer Jenkins followed Webb to the wheel of the wagon, Nancy knewthat Webb had lingered to tell of her coming. She met the farmer'sopen stare with a pleasant little smile so that, an hour later, he"opined" to the thin, bent-shouldered woman who shared his name andlabors, that "if that young gal wouldn't set things stirrin' prettylively up at Happy House, he'd miss his guess!"

  As they approached the outlying houses of the village Webb assumed animportant air. "This here's Freedom, Missy, and I'm proud to do thehonors for Miss Sabriny's niece! It's not big as places go but itsrecord can't be beat sence Ethan Allen's day. Webb knows, fer Imarched away with the boys in blue back in '61, though I was abare-footed youngster, long 'bout fourteen, and couldn't do nothin'more useful than beat a drum. And thar's our service flag, Missy, andevery last one of the six of 'em's come through hul--thanks be to God!And thar's the hotel by the post-office and cross here's the schoolhouse which I helped build the winter they wa'n't no call fur thestage. This is the Common and thet's the meetin' house, as anyonecould see, fur it ain't a line different from the meetin' houses overat Bend and Cliffsdale and Nor' Hero and all over Vermont, I guess.Funny how they never wanted only one kind o' meetin' houses! Andhere's the old smithy lookin' like it was older than B'lindy 'lowed,and here's whar we turn to go up the Leavitt road. Seein' how you'resort of a special passenger I'll go right along up to Happy House,though it ain't my custum!"

  Nancy was tremendously excited. She stared to right and left at thelittle old frame and stone houses set squarely in grass-grown yardsflanked by flowerbeds, all abloom, and each wearing, because of tightlyclosed blinds, an appearance of utter desertion. On the wooden "stoop"of the place Webb had dignified by calling a "hotel" were lounging afew men who had scarcely stirred when Webb in salutation had flourishedhis whip at them. The Commons, hot in the June sun, was deserted savefor a few chickens pecking around in the long grass. The greenshutters of the meeting house were tightly closed, too. From thegaping door of the smithy came not a sound. Even the great branches ofthe trees scarcely stirred. Over everything brooded a peaceful quiet.

  "Oh, how delicious," thought Nancy. "How very, very old everything is._How_ I shall love it!" She leaned forward to catch a first glimpse ofHappy House.

  "Back by the smithy thar's old Dan'l Hopworth's place. Shame to haveit on Miss Sabriny's road only I 'low most as long as the Leavitts beenhere thar's been some of the no-good Hopworths! Poor old Dan'l's 'boutas shiftless as any o' them, B'lindy sez, and his grandchillern ain'tany better. And that thar leads down to old man Judson's. His tenacre piece runs right up to Miss Sabriny's. And _thar's_ Happy House."

  Through the giant elms Nancy caught her first glimpse of the vinecovered old stone walls. Her first feeling was of disappointment; inthe square lines of the house there was little claim to beauty. Butits ugliness was softened by the wonderful trees that arched over itsroof; the gray of its walls and the tightly blinded windows gave astirring hint of mystery.

  The door, built squarely in the middle of the house, opened almostdirectly upon a stone-flagged path that led in a straight line to theroad. There was something sternly formidable about it; Nancy, staringat it with a rapidly beating heart, wondered, when it opened, whatmight lie in store for her beyond it!

  Webb, with much ado, was swinging her big bag over the wheel.

  "Wal, we're makin' history, I guess, with another little Anne Leavittcomin' to Happy House! Them horses'll stand and I'll jus' carry thisbag up fer you. Come along, Missy, and remember what Webb tells ye--yemake up to B'lindy!"

  Nancy followed him up the path to the door. To herself she waswhispering, over the quaking of her heart:

  "Well, good-by Nancy Leavitt--you're _Anne_ now and don't you forget itfor one single minute!"