Blue-Bird Weather Read online

rice, and finally home-madepreserves--wild grapes, exquisitely fragrant in their thin, goldensyrup.

  Marche was that kind of a friendly young man who is naturallygay-hearted and also a little curious--sometimes to the verge ofindiscretion. For his curiosity and inquiring interest in his fellow-menwas easily aroused--particularly when they were less fortunatelysituated than he in a world where it is a favorite fiction that all arecreated equal. He was, in fact, that particular species of humannuisance known as a humanitarian; but he never dreamed he was anuisance, and certainly never meant to be.

  Warmth and food and the prospects of to-morrow's shooting, and aslender, low-voiced young girl, made cheerful his recently frost-nippedsoul, and he was inclined to expand and become talkative there in thelamplight.

  "Has the shooting been pretty good?" he asked pleasantly, plying knifeand fork in the service of a raging appetite.

  "It _has_ been."

  "What do you think of the prospects for to-morrow?"

  "She said gravely: 'I am afraid it will be blue-birdweather.'"]

  She said gravely: "I am afraid it will be blue-bird weather."

  It was a new, but graphic, expression to him; and he often rememberedit afterward, and how quaintly it fell from her lips as she stood therein the light of the kerosene lamp, slim, self-possessed, in her fadedgingham gown and apron, the shapely middle finger of one littleweather-tanned hand resting on the edge of the cloth.

  "You are Miss Herold, I suppose?" he said, looking up at her with hispleasant smile.

  "Yes."

  "You are not Southern?"

  "No," she said briefly. And he then remembered that the Hon. Cicero W.Gilkins, when he was president of the now defunct club, had installed aNorthern man as resident chief game-protector and superintendent at theFoam Island Club House.

  Marche had never even seen Herold; but, through lack of personalinterest, and also because he needed somebody to look out for theproperty, he had continued to pay this man Herold his inconsiderablesalary every year, scarcely knowing, himself, why he did not put theFoam Island shooting on the market and close up the matter for good.

  "It's been five years since I was here, Miss Herold," he said, smiling."That was in the old days of the club, when Judge Gilkins and ColonelVyse used to come here shooting every season. But you don't rememberthem, I fancy."

  "I remember them."

  "Really! You must have been quite a child."

  "I was thirteen."

  "Oh, then you are eighteen, now," he said humorously.

  Her grave, young lips were only slightly responsive to his smile.

  "You have been here a long time," he said. "Do you find it lonely?"

  "Sometimes," she admitted.

  "What do you do for recreation?"

  "I don't think I know what you mean, Mr. Marche."

  "I mean for pleasure."

  She looked at him out of her clear, gray eyes, then turned her gaze onthe window. But she could not see through it; the pane only reflectedher face darkly; and to her, for a moment, it seemed that way with herwhole pent-up life, here in the Virginia marshes--no outlet, no outlook,and wherever she turned her wistful eyes only her own imprisoned self toconfront her out of the dull obscurity.

  "I suppose," he said, watching her, "that you sometimes go to Norfolkfor a holiday?"

  "No."

  "Or to Old Point, or Baltimore, perhaps?"

  She had her under lip between her teeth, now, and was looking so fixedlyat the window that he thought she had not heard him.

  He rose from the table, and as she turned to meet his pleasant eyes hesmilingly thanked her for waiting on him.

  "And now," he said, "if you will say to your father that I'd like tohave a little talk with him----"

  "Father is ill in bed," she said, in a low voice.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I hope it isn't anything serious."

  "I--think not."

  "Will he be able to see me to-morrow?"

  "I am afraid not, Mr. Marche. He--he asked me to say to you that youmight safely transact any business with me. I know all about it," shesaid, speaking a little hurriedly. "I keep the accounts, and I haveevery item and every bill ready for your inspection; and I can tell youexactly what condition the property is in and what lumber has been cutand what repairs have been necessary. Whenever you are ready for me, Iwill come into the sitting room," she added, "because Jim and I have hadour supper."

  "Very well," he said, smiling, "I am ready now, if you are."

  So she went away to rinse her hands and lay aside her apron, and in afew minutes she entered the sitting room. He rose and placed a chair forher, and she thanked him, flushing a little, and then he resumed hisseat, watching her sorting over the papers in her lap.

  Presently she crossed one knee over the other, and one slim, prettilyshaped foot, in its shabby shoe, swung clear of its shadow on the floor.Then she handed him a sheaf of bills for his inspection, and, pencil inhand, followed the totals as he read them off aloud.

  For half an hour they compared and checked off items, and he found heraccounts accurate to a penny.

  "Father bought three geese and a gander from Ike Helm," she said. "Theywere rather expensive, but two were mated, and they call very well whentied out separated. Do you think it was too expensive?" she addedtimidly, showing him the bill.

  "No," he said, smiling. "I think it's all right. Mated decoys are whatwe need, and you can wing-tip a dozen before you get one that will talkat the right time."

  "That is true," she said eagerly. "We try our best to keep up the decoysand have nothing but talkers. Our geese are nearly all right, and ourducks are good, but our swans are _so_ vexing! They seem to be suchfools, and they usually behave like silly cygnets. You will seeto-morrow."

  While she was speaking, her brother came quietly into the room with anopen book in his hands, and Marche, glancing at it curiously, saw thatit was a Latin grammar.

  "Where do you go to school, Jim?" he asked.

  "Father teaches me."

  Marche, rather astonished at the calibre of his superintendent,glanced from the boy to his sister in silence. The girl's headremained steadily lowered over the papers on her knee, but he saw herfoot swinging in nervous rhythm, and he was conscious of her silentimpatience at something or other, perhaps at the interruption in theirbusiness discussion.

  "'Well,' he said pleasantly, 'what comes next, MissHerold?'"]

  "Well," he said pleasantly, "what comes next, Miss Herold?"

  She handed him a list of the decoys. He read it gravely, nodded, andreturned it.

  "You may count them for yourself to-morrow," she said.

  "Not at all. I trust you entirely," he replied laughingly.

  Then they went over the remaining matters, the condition of the pinetimber, the repairs to the boats and blinds and stools, items for snaps,swivels, paint, cement, wire, none of which interested Marche as much asthe silent boy reading his Latin grammar by the smoky lamp interestedhim, or the boy's sister bending over the papers on her knee, pencilpoised in her pretty, weather-roughened hand.

  "I sent the shells from New York by express," he said. "Did theyarrive?"

  "I left two hundred in your room," said the boy, looking up.

  "Oh, thank you, Jim." And, turning to his sister, who had raised herhead, inquiringly, "I suppose somebody will call me at the screech ofdawn, won't they?"

  "Do you know the new law?" she asked.

  "No. I don't like laws, anyway," he said smilingly.

  She smiled, too, gathering up her papers preparatory to departure."Nobody is allowed," she said, "to put off from shore until the sun isabove the horizon line. And the wardens are very strict." Then she rose."Will you excuse me? I have the dishes to do."

  The boy laid aside his book and stood up, but his sister said:

  "Stay and study, Jim. I don't need any help."

  And Jim resumed his seat with heightened color. A moment later, however,he went out to the kitchen.

  "Look
here, Molly," he said, "wha'd' you want to give me away for?He'll think I'm a sissy, helping you do dishes and things."

  "My dear, my dear!" she exclaimed contritely, "I didn't think of it.Please forgive me, Jim. Anyway, you don't really care what this manthinks about any of us----"

  "Yes, I do! Anyway, a fellow doesn't want another fellow to think hewashes dishes."

  "You darling! Forgive me. I wasn't thinking. It was too stupid of me."

  "It really was," said the boy, in his sweet, dignified voice, "and