Happy House Page 3

  CHAPTER III

  HAPPY HOUSE

  In the long, dim, high-ceilinged hall of Happy House Nancy felt verysmall and very much afraid. Though Miss Sabrina was standing veryclose to her it seemed as though her voice came from a long way off.It was a cold voice, and although Miss Sabrina was without doubt tryingto be gracious, there was no warmth in her greeting. She was verytall, with a long Roman nose that gave her entire appearance aforbidding look.

  Following her, Nancy stumbled up the long stairs and down an upper hallto a door where Miss Sabrina stopped.

  "This is the guest room," she explained, as she opened the door.

  Someone had opened one of the blinds so here there was more light.Nancy, looking about, thought that it was the most dreadfully tidy roomshe had ever seen. It had a starched look--the heavy lace curtains atthe window were so stiff that they could have stood quite alone withoutpole or ring; the stiff-backed cushioned chairs were covered with stifflinen "tidies," edged with stiff lace; the bureau and washstand werelikewise protected and a newly starched and ruffled strip, of a sisterpattern, protected the wall behind the bowl.

  "I think you'll find it comfortable--here. There is a pleasant landbreeze at night and it is quiet," Miss Sabrina was saying.

  "_Quiet_!" thought Nancy. Was there any noise anywhere on the wholeIsland? She gave herself a little mental shake. She must say_something_ to this very tall, very stately woman--she wasuncomfortably conscious that a pair of cold gray eyes was closelyscrutinizing her.

  "Oh, I shall love it," she cried with an enthusiasm she did not feel."And it is so nice in you--to want me!"

  The gray eyes kindled for a moment.

  "I wanted you to know us--and to know Happy House. In spite of allthat has happened you _are_ a Leavitt and I felt that it was wrong thatyou should have grown up to womanhood out of touch with the traditionsof your forefathers. We are one of the oldest families on thisIsland--Leavitts have always been foremost in making the history of thestate from the days when they fought side by side with Ethan Allen.Any one of them would have laid down his life for the honor of his nameand his country. You will want to wash, Anne--the roads are dusty.And no family in all Vermont is held in higher esteem than the Leavittssince the first Leavitt came down from Montreal and settled here in thewilderness. Put on a cooler dress, if you wish, and then come down tothe dining-room. We always eat dinner at twelve-thirty, but B'lindyhas kept something warm. Yes, if you are a true Leavitt you will soongrow to revere the family pride and honor for which we Leavitts live!"And with stately steps, as measured as her words, Miss Sabrina withdrewfrom the room.

  "_Whe-w_! Can you just _beat_ it!" Nancy flung at the closed door.She turned a complete circle, taking in with one sweeping glance theheavy walnut furniture, dark and uninviting against the ugly wallpaperand the equally ugly though spotlessly clean carpet; then threw outboth hands despairingly.

  "Well, Nancy, you _are_ in for it--forefathers and everything--familypride and honor!" she finished with a groan. "So be a sport!" Andtaking herself thus sternly in hand she went to the wash bowl and fellto scrubbing off the dust as Miss Sabrina had bidden her.

  The clean, cool water and a change of dress restored her confidence.At least Aunt Sabrina had accepted her without a question--_that_ordeal was over. Everything would go easier now. As she opened thedoor there came up from below a tempting smell of hot food--Nancysuddenly remembered that she had not eaten a crumb since her hasty,early breakfast in Burlington.

  The dining-room was as dim and cool as the rest of the house and asquiet. Miss Sabrina herself placed a steaming omelette at Nancy'splace. Then she sat down stiffly at the other end of the table. Theomelette was very good; Nancy relished, too, eating it from a plate ofrare old blue and white china; her quick eyes took in with oneappraising glance the beautiful lines of the old mohogany highboy andthe spindle-legged chairs which one of the "forefathers" must havebrought over from England, years and years ago.

  "The meat pie was cold so B'lindy beat up an omelette," Miss Sabrinawas saying. "I guess you must be hungry, Anne."

  And then, because there had been the slightest tremble in the olderwoman's voice Nancy realized, in a flash, that Miss Sabrina was asnervous as she! Of course she had dreaded the coming of this strangegrand-niece whom she had invited to Happy House merely from her senseof duty to Leavitt traditions. In her relief Nancy wanted more thananything to laugh loudly--instead she flashed a warm smile and saidcoaxingly:

  "I wish you'd call me Nancy! Everyone does and it sounds--oh, jollier."

  But Miss Sabrina's long face grew longer. She shook her headdisapprovingly. "We've never called Anne Leavitts anything but Annesince the first one and I guess in every generation there's been _one_Anne Leavitt! My mother gave the name to an older sister who died whenshe was a baby. My own name is Sabrina Anne. Eat the strawberries!Jonathan says they're the last from the garden."

  Rebuked Nancy bent her head over the fruit. "I am ashamed to know solittle--of my family! You will forgive me, won't you, when I seemignorant? I _do_ want to learn." And she said this with all herheart, for unless she could either get Aunt Sabrina quickly away fromthe beloved subject of family or learn something about them, she wassure to make some dreadful blunder.

  Making little patterns on the tablecloth with the end of one thinfinger, Miss Sabrina cleared her throat twice, as though she wanted tosay something and found it difficult to speak. Her eyes, as shelevelled them upon Nancy, turned steely gray with cold little glints intheir depths.

  "As I wrote to you, I believe, I struggled--for a long time--with myconscience before I took the unwarranted step of inviting you to HappyHouse. Now I must make one command. Never, while you are here, areyou to mention the name of your father or grandfather--and I likewisewill refrain from so doing!" She stood up stiffly as she finished hersingular words.

  Nancy had lifted a round strawberry to her lips. She was so startledthat the hand that guided it dropped suddenly and the berry rolled overthe cloth, leaving a tiny red trail across the white surface.

  Was there ever anything in the world as strange as this? Why shouldn'tshe mention Anne's father or her grandfather? To be sure, as all sheknew about them was the little Anne had told her during the last twoweeks, she was not likely to want to say much about them--neverthelessshe was immensely curious. Why _should_ Miss Sabrina make such asingular command and _why_ should she be so agitated?

  Nancy knew she must say something in reply. "I--I'll be glad to dojust--what you want me to do!" she stammered. "I just want to--makeyou like me--if I can."

  Nancy said this so humbly and so sincerely that it won a smile fromMiss Sabrina. Nancy did not know, of course, that the old woman hadbeen trying hungrily to find something in Nancy's face that was "like aLeavitt!" And as Nancy had spoken she had suddenly seen an expressioncross the young face that, she said to herself, was "all Leavitt!" Soher voice was more kindly and she laid an affectionate hand upon thegirl's shoulder.

  "I am sure I shall grow very fond of you, my dear. Now I must leaveyou to amuse yourself--this is my rest hour. Make yourself at home andgo about as you please!"

  Nancy did not move until the last sound of her aunt's footstep diedaway. A door shut, then the house was perfectly still. She drew along, quivery breath.

  "Thank goodness--she _does_ have to rest! Nancy Leavitt, how are youever going to stand all that pomposity--for days and days. Wouldn't itbe _funny_ if I took to talking to myself in this dreadful stillness?Happy House--_Happy_, indeed."

  It was not at all difficult for Nancy to know what each room, openingfrom the long hall, was or what it looked like. The parlor opened fromone side, the sitting-room from the other; the dining-room was behindthe sitting-room and the kitchen in a wing beyond that. The parlorwith its old mahogany and walnut furniture, its faded pictures and uglycarpeting was, of course, just like the sitting-room, except that, togive it more of a homey air, in the sitting-room there were some w
axedflowers under a glass, a huge old Bible on the marble-topped table, abunch of peacock feathers in a corner and crocheted tidies on thehorsehair chairs--and the old mantel that had come from England, Webbhad said, was in the "sittin'-room."

  She tip-toed through the hall and opened the door on the right.Accustomed now to the prevailing dimness, her eyes swept immediately tothe old fireplace. The marble mantel stood out in all its purityagainst the dark wall; age had given a mellow lustre to its glossysurface. Nancy, remembering Webb's story about that Anne Leavitt who,ages ago had placed it there, went to it and touched it reverently."H-a-p-p-y H-o-u-s-e," she spelled softly, her finger tracing theletters graven into the marble. Doubtless it had come across the seaon one of those slow-sailing ships of long ago--that other Anne Leavitthad waited impatiently months and months for it!

  Had that Anne Leavitt, like poor old Aunt Sabrina, worried and fussedover Leavitt traditions? Of course not--she had _made_ them.

  A curiosity seized Nancy to find B'lindy. Webb had said she kneweverything. She must be somewhere beyond that last closed door in thelong hallway--the omelette had come from that direction.

  Under Nancy's pressure the door opened into a pantry and beyond, in abig, sunny kitchen, shiny in its spotlessness, stood B'lindy before atable, putting the last touches to a pie. She turned at the sound ofNancy's step. Nancy paused in the doorway.

  "May I come in?" she asked. "Are you B'lindy?" She imitated Webb'sabbreviation.

  "Yes," the woman at the table answered shortly. "And you're theniece." She gave Nancy a long, steady look. "Ain't a bit like aLeavitt's I can see! Miss Sabriny would have you come, I hope you'lllike it."

  "The hateful creature," thought Nancy. Why couldn't _some one_ inHappy House act natural and kind and jolly?

  Like Miss Sabrina, B'lindy was tall and almost as old; her forbiddingmanner came not from a Roman nose but from heavy brows that frowneddown over deep-set eyes--eyes that pierced in their keenness. LikeMiss Sabrina she had a certain dignity, too, which seemed to set herapart from her fellow creatures--the result, no doubt, as Nancythought, of having been born in the Leavitt household.

  "Of course I'm going to love it. It's so--so quiet! And that omeletteyou made me was delicious. I was dreadfully hungry. And oh, there isso much I want to know about Happy House. Webb told me--cominghere--that you knew everything. I've just gone in and looked at theold fireplace. Tell me all about that Anne Leavitt."

  Nancy's coaxing tone covered the fire that was within her heart. Toherself she was saying: "The old iceberg--I'll thaw her out now ornever!"

  B'lindy set her pie down; her voice warmed a little. She rested herhands on her hips and assumed what Webb would have called her "speakin'air."

  "Well, now, if it's _pryin'_ B'lindy Guest don't know nothin', but ifit's hist'ry--Webb's just about right. Justin Leavitt brought AnneLeavitt down from Montreal 'slong ago as 1740, when there was first asettlement up to Isle la Motte. He bought most this whole Island, Iguess, from the Indians and when they wanted a home Anne Leavitt laidher finger on this very spot we're sittin' on. Justin built the houseout of the stone they dug from the Island itself. And she planned thatthere mantel--just set her heart on it and it seems how a Leavitt couldhave anything--anyways they hed it made in England and brought overhere jest's she planned with Happy House spelled on it all carved like'tis now. And she helped put it up with her own little hands. Thehouse's been changed a lot sence but no one's ever touched that mantel!"

  "And then she died," put in Nancy, breathlessly.

  "Yes--she was just nothin' more'n a child and delicate at that andwa'n't built to stand them pi'neer hardships, hidin' from the Indiansand eatin' corn and roots and the like when she was used to food asgood as the king's, for noble blood she had--the book over at NorthHero says so! She just seemed to live 'til that there mantel come andshe saw it with her very own eyes. She was brave as any man and shehung on spite of everything 'til she'd got that done and then jest 'sifshe was tuckered out she laid down and died!"

  "In what room, B'lindy?"

  "What's now the guest room--so the book says." B'lindy ignored Nancy'sstifled, "Oh, goodness me!" "That next year the Indians attacked allthe settlers and Justin Leavitt and his brother Remembrance was killedalong with a half-dozen other pi'neers beatin' back the red men whileRobert's wife and the other women folk escaped in an open boat acrossthe lake and Robert's wife hid little Justin under her cape. ThenHappy House was empty 'til little Justin growed up and came back."

  "And had the Indians gone then?"

  "No, but they were friendly like and a good thing it was for they'dnever been worse en'mies than the Yorkers was then. I guess EthanAllen, and his Green Mountain Boys slept right here many a time, forthere wasn't much they did fightin' the Yorkers without consultin' aLeavitt! But here I am rattlin' on and the oven waitin' for them pies."

  "Oh, B'lindy--it's like a wonderful story! Will you show me the bookthat tells all about it? I'm so glad my name is Anne, too. If you'rebusy I'll run out and look at the garden--and find Jonathan. Webb toldme about him, too."

  Nancy's spirits were soaring; instinctively she felt that she had wonB'lindy! It was a good beginning. She opened the great oak door andstepped out upon the path. At one time the grounds of Happy House musthave been pretentious--they were quaintly beautiful now in their ageand half-neglect. Flowering perennials had crept out from their oldbeds and had spread unchecked around among the giant trunks of thetrees so that from hedge to hedge there was a riot of color.

  Among the gay blossoms Nancy picked her way, skirting the walls of thehouse to discover what might lie beyond. In the back she foundJonathan pottering among some raspberry bushes that bordered theflagged walk. He was very bent and very old and very wrinkled; hiseyes twitched and blinked as he lifted his head to look at her.

  "Good afternoon! I am Anne Leavitt," Nancy called blithely. He wassuch a perfect part of the old, old garden that she loved him on thespot.

  "Wal, wal--little Anne Leavitt," and he nodded and blinked at her.

  "I wish you'd call me Nancy," Nancy ventured. "Everyone does, and Idon't seem nearly big enough to be Anne. I love your flowers and oh,what a lot of berries you are going to have!"

  The old man straightened his shoulders--at least he tried to! Hisflowers were his children.

  "In my younger days this here garden was the show of the Island," heanswered proudly. "Folks come from all round to look at it!Thirty-two kinds of posies and that want countin' the hollyhocks thatgrew like trees--taller'n I am. And vines and berries and vegetables.But I can't work like I used to, and Miss Sabriny don't like anyone butme to touch things. So things have to go abit. Miss Nancy, huh! Ye_are_ a little thing." But his smile was kindly. "And I hope ye bringsome sunshine to Happy House."

  Suddenly Nancy exclaimed: "Oh--the lake! I didn't realize how close wewere to it."

  Beyond the raspberry patch and the kitchen garden stretched an oldorchard. Through the trees Nancy had glimpsed the sapphire blue ofLake Champlain.

  "Is that orchard ours?" she asked Jonathan.

  "That it is. I helped my father plant those thar trees myself andthey're the best bearin' on the hul of Nor' Hero!"

  Nancy stood irresolute. She wanted to explore further--to run outamong the apple trees to the very cliff of the lake. But she wasbursting to write to Claire--there was already so much to tell her.

  So with one long, lingering look she retraced her steps back to thehouse. As she passed slowly under the trees she was startled by themovement of a single slat in one of the upstairs blinds. Andinstinctively she knew that an eye peeped at her from behind it.

  Miss Milly--it must, of course, be the "poor Miss Milly" of whom Webbhad spoken!

  Nancy closed the front door softly behind her that it might not disturbMiss Sabrina's hour of rest. Then she tiptoed up the long stairway.It took but a moment's calculating to decide which door led to the roomwhere the blind had open
ed. She stopped before it and tapped gentlywith one knuckle.

  "Come in," a voice answered.

  Opening the door, Nancy walked into a room the counterpart of her own,except that a couch was drawn before the blinded windows. And againstit half-lay a frail little woman with snow-white hair and tired eyes,shadowing a face that still held a trace of youth.

  As Nancy hesitated on the threshold a voice singularly sweet called toher:

  "Come in, my dear! I am your Aunt Milly."