The Opened Shutters Part 45

Sylvia pursed her lips demurely. "I will--perhaps--if it works, Mr.

Dunham."

"Works? Ferments, do you mean? Now you're talking sense. No unfermented grape juice in mine."

Sylvia laughed and looked around at Edna, who was grave and seemed waiting politely. "Poor Edna. She's tired," she thought, and nodding a good-night to John, she moved toward the stairs. "I'll see you when you come up, Edna," she added, and disappeared.

Dunham watched the light figure in its swift ascent, and then turned toward his hostess.

"She won't tell us," he announced, smiling.

"How could you keep on talking about it, John?" said Edna, speaking low.

His face fell at her tone. "Why not?" he asked blankly. "Have you changed your mind about its being a joke?"

"Oh--I"--Edna scarcely understood her own att.i.tude toward the little incident, and hesitated most uncharacteristically. "I think it was rather foolish and--and unpleasant, somehow. I--good-night, John," she put out her hand and he took it. "I hope you won't know anything about the sunrise, and that the cradle of the deep won't be too noisy for you. You needn't lock up. Just close the doors and window when you're ready to come in. We don't insult Arcady with bolts. Good-night."

The following day dawned bright. Edna regarded the extraordinary light in Sylvia's eyes and her unwonted gayety of manner at the breakfast-table with mental questioning.

"The most annoying thing has occurred," she said. "This day of all days the carpenters for whom I've been waiting all summer have turned up. I shan't be able to leave home. Could you people wait until to-morrow to go over to the farm?"

"I'm afraid not," returned John. "I must go and report, as well as make myself more presentable. Who knows what to-morrow may be like? As probably as not Neptune will be throwing s...o...b..a.l.l.s in all directions."

"And when he does, Edna sings!" exclaimed Sylvia, turning her vital, sparkling gaze on her hostess. "You'd better hope he does;--but not to-day, not to-day!" Her voice dropped to a low, exultant note, and then she laughed and blushed, meeting John's quizzical, curious look.

"By Jove, I believe the stuff _has_ worked and she's been trying it, Edna," he said. "It's early in the day, but she's lit up for a fact.

How was your ride, little witch?"

"The grandest thing you ever knew. I'd have taken you up behind me if I'd known what it was going to be. There's nothing like a bird's-eye view of this region."

"What are you talking about, Sylvia?" asked Miss Martha.

"Why, I rode all over Cas...o...b..y last night on a broomstick. It was like visiting a wonderful picture gallery. There was a planet that cast a path across the water as the moon sank. The headlands jutted out into the waves, the cottages nestled among the trees. I went to the Mill Farm and looked through Uncle Calvin's window and blew him a kiss as he lay asleep."

"Did he have his hat on?" inquired Miss Martha, and John and Edna laughed.

"Why didn't you bring home your clothes?" asked Edna.

"I did try to, but the broomstick bucked so when I tried to pa.s.s through my window, I saw I should raise the household, and I didn't want to startle them; so I raced away home again above the waves, while all the stars sang together!"

"Have you been taking a foolish powder?" inquired Miss Martha, cutting her beefsteak.

"You'll travel by wave to-day," remarked John. "I don't propose to go over to the Tide Mill afoot and alone."

"After noon, then."

"Very well. Have it your own way. You'd get ducked less this morning, though."

"Yes, but something might happen to keep us. We might not get back in the afternoon."

"Why, she's just crazy about this place, Edna," remarked Miss Lacey.

Edna smiled with the grace of a gratified hostess, but she did not raise her eyes. Sylvia was crazy about something, but what was it? She seemed transformed from the quiet, intense, grateful girl whom Thinkright brought to the island so recently.

As they rose from the table Sylvia eyed John curiously.

"I suppose you'll go pretty soon to see Benny about getting the boat for this afternoon, won't you?" she asked.

"Yes," he rejoined. "You'd better come with me."

"No," her breath caught, and she flushed so deeply that he looked at her in wonder. "I can't. I have something to do. I--you'd better go soon, for he might take the boat off for the day, you know."

John hooked his thumbs in his trousers pockets and regarded her at ease and at length.

"You're the guiltiest-looking being I ever saw," he remarked. "I couldn't be retained to defend you unless you could contrive a different expression. Now take the advice of one who knows, and don't go near that bottle again this morning."

Sylvia gave a breathless little laugh, and her eyes shone through the embarra.s.sment caused by his curious gaze.

"That's just"--she began. "No. Go along, please. I can't go with you."

"Creature of mysteries"--he began.

"Do go on. You really must get a boat. I'm ashamed to be borrowing Edna's clothes," and she ran away upstairs.

Half an hour later she was lost. Edna had been captured by her workmen.

Miss Lacey was closeted with Jenny. Dunham lingered with the newspaper on the piazza, thinking he would speak once more with Sylvia before he left on his quest, but she did not reappear.

At last he went and stood beneath her window and called. He could see the white curtains swaying gently in the morning air, but no blithe face appeared between them. No voice answered his call.

Miss Lacey came out of the house, carrying a pot of water for the sweet peas.

"I can't think what has become of Sylvia," she said. "I've been looking for her, too. I certainly didn't see her go out."

"All right. If she left by the window I might as well be off," he rejoined. "I didn't know the broomstick worked by day. I thought it was only the other end."

"I guess, to tell the truth," returned Miss Lacey, laughing, "Sylvia doesn't know much more about one end of the broom than she does of the other."

CHAPTER XXV

THE LITTLE RIFT

When Sylvia reappeared that noon she carried a pillowcase, which she held before her by its corners with care. She thought to slip around the house to the back door, but Edna and John rose from a corner of the piazza and greeted her.

Dunham viewed the graceful bare head and warm, demurely smiling face in its tree setting as the girl approached.

"Doesn't she look like a dryad?" he said to his companion.