This Aunt Ada did not do, thinking, indeed, no more of the little trinket after having pinned it into Mary's frock. No one noticed that the little girl was very quiet at the breakfast table, for all were talking merrily over the fun of the evening before, and no one observed Mary's troubled little face nor the fact that she scarcely tasted her breakfast. Her Uncle Dick, however, at last did remark that Mary had not much to say. "I am afraid grown-up parties are too much for Mary," he said, after breakfast, drawing her to his side in the hammock and cuddling her to him. "Are you sleepy, Mary, or don't you feel well?"
Mary leaned her head against his shoulder. "I don't feel sleepy," she told him, "and I am only a bit tired. Uncle Dick, are diamonds the preciousest things in the world?"
"Those glittering out there on the grass, do you mean? They are fairy diamonds, you know, and they disappear as soon as the sun gets high up."
"I know. I didn't mean those; I meant the kind human people wear."
"They are sold at rather a respectable price. Are you thinking of investing or are you considering the display Miss Millikin made last night? I think I counted thirteen on one hand. All are not diamonds that glitter, Marybud. Miss Millikin isn't a bit more precious because of her diamonds, so don't you go thinking I'll love you any better if you have six diamond rings on one hand."
"But they are most costly, aren't they?"
"They cost like fury. That's why I can't be engaged to a girl; I can't afford to buy a ring."
Mary took this perfectly seriously. "I suppose six little diamonds would cost as much as twenty pounds," she said.
"Yes, one might get six, not too big, for that price. The little ones cost much less than the big one in proportion. A large solitaire costs much more than a number of small ones taking up as much space. But why this sudden interest in diamonds? Have you twenty pounds to spend and are you thinking of spending it all in diamonds to take home as a gift to your mother?"
"Oh, no, I have only one pound to spend, and mamma wouldn't wish me to spend all that upon her."
"Then let's talk of something else; song-sparrows or sand-peeps or sea-gulls, or something not so sordid as gold and diamonds. Look at that yacht out there, isn't it a corker? Now, when I have money to spend I shall not buy diamonds, I shall buy a yacht. By the way, did you know we were all going out sailing this afternoon, to Rocky Point?"
"Are we?" said Mary listlessly.
"Why I thought you would enjoy it. We have been talking of this sail for two or three days, and you little kitties were wild about it, I thought."
"I am delighted; of course I am," returned Mary with more show of interest. "Shall we take supper there? I heard Aunt Ada and Luella talking about sandwiches."
"Yes, that is the intention. We shall not try sailing by the outside route but will go around by Middle Bay where it is not rough. Polly has not tried sailing yet, and we must be sure of smooth waters. If it gets too much for her we can set her ashore somewhere and she can come back by the next steamboat. She is calling you now."
Mary slipped away to join Polly and Molly. "We are going to look for wild strawberries," they said; "Aunt Ada said we might."
"I'm going barefoot," Polly informed her, "but Molly won't; she is afraid of taking cold; you aren't, are you, Mary?"
Mary was most decided in her refusal to take off her shoes and stockings, declaring that her mother would certainly disapprove, but her heart leaped within her when told that they were to look for strawberries. She would then have an excuse to continue her search for the lost pin, and therefore she set for herself the bounds which included the path to the landing. But it must be confessed that she found few strawberries and was crowed over by the others.
"You might have known you couldn't find near so many there along the path," Polly told her. "Why, they are as thick as can be over there where nobody walks."
Mary made no excuse for her choice, and indeed made no reply.
"You aren't mad, are you?" asked Polly after looking at her for a moment.
Mary shook her head.
"Tell me, are you homesick, Mary? I won't tell any one if that is what is the matter."
Again only a shake of the head in reply.
"Well, you needn't tell if you don't want to," said Polly, walking off. She was a quick-tempered little soul, easily offended, and when Mary decided that she would rather stay at home with Luella that afternoon, than run the risk of being seasick, Polly made up her mind that either Mary really was homesick, or that she did not care for the society of her American cousins.
"I'm not going to insist on playing with her. She needn't think I'm so crazy about it that I can't keep away from her," she confided to Molly after they had set sail.
"Oh, but maybe she really is homesick," said Molly, "and maybe we ought not to have gone away and left her."
"But Uncle Dick and Aunt Ada said we should."
"That was because Mary was so determined not to go. She was seasick nearly all the way coming from England, and Aunt Ada thinks that is why she was afraid to go to-day."
"Oh, nonsense! Nobody could be seasick on this smooth water," said Polly, looking over the side of the boat at the blue waves. "Isn't it jolly, Molly?"
"Jolly Molly sounds funny," laughed Molly.
"So does jolly Polly," returned Polly. Then, fumbling in her uncle's pocket, she found a bit of paper and a pencil; in a moment she handed to Molly the following brilliant production:
"Golly, Molly,
It's jolly,
Polly
This sent them both into shrieks of merriment, for it took very little to start the two laughing, and they soon forgot Mary.
"Look here," called Uncle Dick, "I shall have to make you two laugh the other side of the mouth, for you're tipping the boat all to one aide. Shift them a little bit further, Ada. We're going to run into the cove for supper."
The beautiful little cove made a quiet and safe harbor. Here they anchored and made ready to make coffee, roast potatoes and toast marshmallows.
CHAPTER V
Mary and the Boy
Meanwhile Mary at the cottage was disconsolate enough. To be sure Luella was rather a cheerful companion, and even Miss Ada's Maltese kitten, Cosey, was not to be despised as giving a comforting presence. Yet the weight of her loss lay heavily upon Mary, and she soon escaped from Luella to begin again the weary search. She was on her knees before a large rock when she heard a voice above her say: "What you looking for? A sparrow's nest? I know where there is one."
Mary looked up to see a barefooted boy peering down at her. He had a pleasant face and appeared much as other boys, though she saw at once that he was a fisherman's son, and not one of the summer visitors. "No, I'm not looking for a bird's nest," she said slowly; "I've lost something. Did – did – do you know if any one has found a piece of jewelry?" It flashed across her that she might do well to confide in the little lad.
"Why, no, I don't," he replied, "but I'll help you look for it. I'd just as lief as not. What was it like?"
Mary glanced around her. "I'll tell you," she said, "but I don't want any one else to know. I am so afraid my aunt will be vexed. It is a brooch, a diamond brooch in the shape of a star, that I wore to the party the other night. I lost it coming home, I think."
"It will be pretty hard to find, I'm afraid," said the boy. "Why don't you tack up a notice in the post-office?"
"Oh, because I don't want my aunt to know. I thought if I could only find it, I'd so much rather not tell."
"But, say, you don't stand near so good a chance of finding it if nobody knows."
Mary pondered over this, her desire to find the pin battling with her desire to keep the loss a secret. "I'll look a little longer," she said at last, "and then if I don't find it I will have to tell."
"I guess you do feel pretty bad about it," said the boy. "Diamonds are valuable and if anybody found the pin it might be a temptation to keep it, especially if it wasn't known who it belonged to. We're pretty honest about here and I guess the Green Island people are, too, so, if it's found, I guess you'll get it again as soon as it's known who lost it."
"I've looked and looked all the way from here to the landing," said Mary disconsolately, "and I don't believe it is here. I do wish I could get over to Green Island somehow."
"Why, it's easy enough to get there," said the boy. "Us boys go over often to pick berries, or sell lobsters to the hotel. I'll row you over in my brother Parker's boat; I know he'll let me have it."
"Oh, how very kind! I would be so relieved. It is most kind of you to offer to take me. Could we go now, before the others get back?"
"Why, I guess so. You come on with me and I'll see. Park's down to the fish-house, and I know he won't be using the boat to-day. You know who I am, don't you? I live in that yellow house just this side Hobbs's store, and I'm Park Dixon's brother Ellis. I'm going lobstering next year; I'm big enough."
Mary looked him over. He was not very big, she thought, but she did not know just what was the necessary size for one to reach in order to go lobstering, yet it seemed rather to place him in a position to be a safe guide, and she was glad he had told her. "I'm sure," she said following out her thought, "that you're quite big enough to take me."
"Of course I am," he said. "I've sot over quite a lot of people to Green's Island. I sot over a man last week."
Mary hesitated before she asked, "If you please, what is sot over?"
"Why, row 'em over. If you don't take the steamboat there ain't no other way than to be sot over, you see."
"Oh, I see. Thank you. Shall we go to the fish-house now?"
"Why, yes, or you can wait here if you'd rather."
Upon considering, Mary concluded it would be more satisfactory to go, for perhaps Ellis might give her the slip, or, if the big brother objected, she might add her persuasions to Ellis's and so clinch the matter. Yet while she stood waiting for Ellis to make his request for the boat, she had many compunctions of conscience. She had never before done so bold and desperate a thing. She had scarcely ever appeared on the street without her governess, and indeed it was the strict measures of this same governess which made the child timid about confessing the loss of the pin. As she thought about the trip to Green Island with a strange little boy to whom she had never even spoken before that day, it seemed a monstrous undertaking, and for a moment she quailed before the prospect. Yet what joy if she should return with the precious pin and be able to restore it without a word of censure from any one. This thought decided her to follow when Ellis beckoned to her. Big Parker Dixon smiled and nodded from where he was unloading shining mackerel and big gaping cod, and Mary knew his consent had been given.
"It is a very smelly place," she remarked as she picked her way along the wet fish-house floor.
Ellis laughed. "That's what you summer folks think; we like it."
"Fancy liking it," said Mary, then feeling that perhaps that did not show a proper attitude toward one so kind as Ellis, she hastened to say, "No doubt it is a lovely smell, you know, and if I were an American perhaps I should prefer it, but I am English, you see."
"That's what makes you talk so funny," said Ellis bluntly.
"Oh, really, do I talk funny? I can't help it, can I, if I am English?"
"Oh, some of the folks that live other places not so far away think we talk funny," Ellis went on to say.
"Do they? Then there is as much difference in liking ways of talking as in the kind of smells you like. Now, I never could bear the smell of onions cooking, and yet nurse says they smell so 'earty and happetizing; she drops her h's, you know."
Ellis stared. He had never heard of dropping h's, but he was too wise to say so. "I'll go get the Leona," he said by way of changing the subject. "That's the name of my brother's boat; he named it after his wife. You'd better come on down to Cap'n Dave's wharf; it is easier getting aboard there."
Mary followed down a winding path to the shore of the cove and waited on the pebbly sands till the boat was shoved up and then she waveringly stepped in, fearfully sat down where Ellis directed, and in a moment his sturdy young arms were pulling at the oars. The deed was done and Mary felt as if she had cast away every shred of home influence. What would Miss Sharp say to see her? Polly wouldn't hesitate to do such a thing, she reflected, and after all she was in America which was a perfectly free country, so Molly and Polly were always telling her, then why not do as she chose? So she settled herself more comfortably and really began to enjoy the expedition.
It was but a short distance to Green Island, and the water of the dividing sound was too smooth to produce any uncomfortable qualms so that Mary felt only a pleasant excitement as she stepped ashore and was piloted by Ellis to the little hall where the fancy dress party had been given. All the way along they looked carefully to see if by chance anything could be discovered of the missing pin, but there was no sign of it. Ellis started inquiries, putting the question to each one he met: "You hain't heerd of anybody's findin' a breastpin, hev ye? I'll ask at the post-office," he told Mary. "They won't know who you are and if anybody finds it, I'll leave word it's to be returned to me."
"Oh, I'm sure you're very kind," said Mary gratefully. "I can give a reward. Isn't that what persons do?"
"I don't know, I'm sure. Nobody about here wants any reward. I guess any of us is ready to return property when we know where it belongs."
"Oh!" Mary felt properly rebuked. Really Ellis was a very superior sort of person if he did murder the king's English. It was quite evident that his morals were above question. She pattered by his side till they reached the hall. The door was open and the place unoccupied. It no longer seemed enchanted ground. The Japanese lanterns looked out of place in the glare of daylight, and the flowers still remaining, were faded and drooping. Instead of being bright and festive, it appeared bare and desolate to Mary.
She and Ellis walked slowly around, looking in every corner, but their search was not rewarded, and they returned to the boat, stopping at the post-office on their way. The postmaster and his entire family were greatly interested in Ellis's tale of the lost trinket.
"A diamond breaspin, did you say?" asked Jim Taylor. "Wal now, ain't that a loss? I'll put up a notice right away. Marthy, you ain't heerd of nobody's findin' a diamond breaspin, hev ye?" he questioned a girl who came in to mail a letter. "Some of the P'int folks has lost one. If you hear of its bein' found, tell 'em to fetch it here." He carefully wrote out a notice which he pinned up alongside an advertisement of a boat for sale, a cottage to let, and a moonlight excursion. "That'll fetch it," he said. "If it's been found on this island, you'll get it. You tell 'em over to the P'int we're on the lookout. How is it you're undertakin' to look it up, Ellis? Who's the lady?"
Ellis glanced furtively at Mary, squirming his bare toes on the dusty floor. "Wal, I cal'lated I could find it," he replied. "I undertook it on my own hook, and I guess I'll see it through. I'd like the fun of restorin' it, if I can, Jim."
The postmaster laughed. "You're right cute, Ellis," he said. "Parker gone a-fishin' yet?"
"No," Ellis told him; "he's goin' on Cap'n Abe Larkins' boat. They're loadin' up now. They cal'late to get off in a day or two."
Jim Taylor nodded, and, having despatched the business with Ellis, he turned to wait upon a customer, for this was store and post-office as well.
Mary was surprised to find that every one, young and old was called by the first name; it seemed to her a queer custom. She would have said Mr. Taylor, but Ellis called even the old men Joshua and Abner and all that. She did not criticise, however, for she was very grateful to Ellis for not disclosing her secret. Really he was a boy of very fine feelings, she decided, and she spoke her thought by saying: "You are very good to do all this for me, Ellis."
Ellis looked confused. He had not been brought up to receive praise. "Oh, it ain't nothin'," he said awkwardly. Then changing the subject suddenly, he exclaimed: "There's Luella Barnes!"
"Where?" cried Mary in alarm.
"Comin' out of the ice-cream saloon with Granville. I guess he fetched her over."
"I wonder if she's come after me," said Mary looking scared.
"Did she know you were comin'?"
"No, but I said I would go over to the Whartons'. I meant to go when I told her, so maybe she thinks I am there and thought there was no need for her to stay in. She goes somewhere every afternoon anyhow, so I fancy she hasn't come for me, after all, though I'd rather not see her."
However this was not to be avoided, for Luella had caught sight of Mary and was about to bear down upon her when her attention was distracted by a friend who hailed her and in the meantime Mary slipped out of sight. "That was Mary Reid as sure as shootin'," said Luella to Granville.
"I guess not," he replied. "What would she be doing over here?"
"I cal'lated she'd gone to Whartons'," said Luella, pinching her under lip thoughtfully as she looked down the road.
"Maybe she did go and they've fetched her over in their launch."
Luella "cal'lated" that was just the way of it, and gave herself no further uneasiness, so Mary escaped by plunging down the bank and skirting the shore till she reached the spot where the boat lay.
"I'll row you over to Jones's Island, if you'd like to go. 'Tain't but a little way. There's lots of strawberries there," the boy said.
This was a temptation Mary considered. The afternoon was but half gone; the evenings were long, and the sailing party would not return before sunset. They enjoyed most of all the coming home when sea and sky were a glory of color and light. It would be a delightful way to pass the remainder of the afternoon, and to carry home a lot of berries for supper would be an excuse to Luella for her long absence. "What will we get the berries in?" she asked Ellis, when her thoughts had traveled thus far.
"I'll run up to the store and get some of those little empty fruit boxes; Jim'll give 'em to me. I saw a pile of 'em lying outside. You wait here." So Mary waited. If it should be discovered that she had gone off with Ellis in the Leona, she would at least have the berries as an evidence of what they had gone for. Mary was getting more and more crafty.
The end of it all was that they did row over to Jones's Island. A barren looking, uninhabited spot it seemed from a distance. Barren of trees it was, but when one once reached it there were great patches of strawberries, clumps of wild roses and bayberry bushes, pinky-white clover, deliciously sweet, tiny wild white violets and many other lovely things. Then, too, it was the haunt of birds which, undisturbed, had built their nests there year after year.
It did not take long to pick as many berries as they could eat and as many as they wanted to carry away, and then when the sky was shining gold and pink and blue above and the water shining blue and pink and gold beneath, they started home, reaching there just as Luella, standing on the porch, was watching earnestly for the little girl's return. Ellis had parted from his companion at the point where their roads separated. His supper hour was over long ago, though he did not say so, his parting words being: "I'll let you know first thing if I hear anything of the breastpin."
"Thank you so much," said Mary. "I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed the afternoon."
"I thought maybe you'd stayed at the Whartons' for supper," said Luella, as Mary came up. "Land's sake, where did you get all them berries? I know you didn't get 'em about here. There, now, I said I seen you to Green's. That's just what I said. Did you have a good time? Whartons' is real good about their la'nch, ain't they? Now there's Roops hardly ever takes anybody out but their own folks. I call that mean. Come on in and get your supper. Them berries is so fresh I guess they'll keep till tomorrow, and you'll want the others to have some. I cal'late you've eat your fill of 'em anyway."
Glad that Luella's flow of talk did not demand answers, Mary followed her into the house and when the young woman drew up her chair sociably to eat supper with her, Mary did not feel any resentment, so happy was she that no explanations were expected.