The Windy Hill Read online

  CHAPTER III

  JOHN MASSEY'S LANDLORD

  The story had come to an end, but the boy and girl still waited asthough to hear more.

  "But do oak trees grow to be so old?" Oliver inquired at last, lookingout at the moving shadow of the great tree that had now covered thedoorstone.

  "Yes, three hundred years is no impossible age for an oak. All the oldgrants of land speak of an oak tree on this hill as one of thelandmarks."

  "How did you know?" began Oliver, and then broke off, with a suddenjerk of recollection: "Oh, I forgot all about it--my train!"

  He snatched out his watch and stood regarding it with a rueful face.He had missed the train by more than half an hour.

  "Were you going away?" asked Polly sympathetically. "We are alwaysmissing trains like that, daddy and I. Won't they be surprised to seeyou come back!"

  "They--they didn't know I was going," returned Oliver. "They arewondering now where I am." He was too much agitated to keep fromdoing his thinking out loud. "I must be getting back. Thank you forthe story. Good-by."

  He was gone before they could say more, leaving Polly, in fact, withher mouth open to speak and with the Beeman looking after him with anamused and quizzical grin, as though he recognized the symptoms of anuneasy conscience.

  "We never asked him to come again," Polly lamented.

  To which her father answered, "I believe he will come, just the same."

  The smooth machinery of Cousin Jasper's house must have been thrownout of gear for a moment when the car came round to the door andOliver failed to appear. It was running quietly and noiselessly again,however, by the time he returned. Janet was curled up in a bigarmchair in the library, enjoying a book, when he came in. She lookedup at him rather curiously, but only said:

  "Eleanor Brighton's mother telephoned at half past three that Eleanorhad been detained somewhere, she didn't quite know where. She was veryapologetic and hoped we would come some other time. I walked down theroad to look for you, but you weren't in sight. I met such a strangeman, coming in at the gate; he turned all the way around on the seatof his cart to stare at me. I didn't like him."

  She did not press Oliver with questions and, as a result, he sat downbeside her and told her the whole tale of his afternoon's adventures,with a glowing description of the Beeman and Polly.

  "I must take you there to see them," he said, "I can't wait to showyou how things look from that hill. And you should see the bees, andthe little house, and hear the wind in the big tree. We will goto-morrow."

  When Cousin Jasper appeared for dinner, Oliver felt somewhatapprehensive, but to his relief no questions were asked him. Theircousin listened rather absently while Janet explained why the proposedvisit had not been made, and he offered no comment. He looked palereven than usual, with deeper lines in his face, and he sat at the endof the long table, saying little and eating less. Afterward he satwith them in the library, still restless and uneasy and speaking onlynow and then, in jerking sentences that they could scarcely follow. Itwas an evident relief to all three of them when the time came to saygood night.

  Oliver looked back anxiously over his shoulder, as their cousinreturned to his study and as they, at the other end of the long room,went out into the hall.

  "Something has happened to upset him more than usual," he said. "Doyou think he could have guessed what I intended to do?"

  Janet shook her head emphatically.

  "He couldn't have guessed," she declared. "Even now I can hardlybelieve it of you, myself, Oliver."

  Oliver, rather ashamed, was beginning to wonder at himself also.

  They had fallen into the habit of going upstairs early to thecomfortable sitting room into which their bedrooms opened. It wastheir own domain, a pleasant, breezy place, with deep wicker chairs,gay chintz curtains, flower boxes, and wide casements opening on abalcony. They had both found some rare treasures among the booksdownstairs and liked to carry them away for an hour of enjoymentbefore it was bedtime.

  Oliver settled himself comfortably beside a window, opened his book,but did not immediately begin to read. His eyes wandered about theperfectly appointed room, stared out at the moonlit garden, and thencame back to his sister.

  "Why aren't we happy here, Janet?" he questioned. "It seems as thoughwe had everything to make us so."

  "Because he isn't happy," returned his sister, with a gesture towardthe study where Cousin Jasper, distraught, worried, and forlorn, musteven then be sitting alone.

  "But why isn't he happy? There is everything here that he could wishfor." Oliver added somewhat bitterly, after a pause: "Why don'tgrown-up people tell us things? It is miserable to be old enough tonotice when affairs go wrong but not to be old enough to have themexplained."

  "Perhaps," said Janet hopefully, "we will be able to prove that wedeserve to know. I think that you will, anyway, and then you can tellme."

  It was not only the younger members of the household who werestruggling with mystery that night, however. Before they had beenreading many minutes, there came a discreet tap at the door andHotchkiss appeared upon the threshold. Oliver was wondering what a boyunused to butlers was supposed to say or do on the occasion of such avisit, and even Janet, better at guessing the etiquette of suchmatters, seemed at a loss. And so also was Hotchkiss, as it presentlybegan to be evident.

  If the butler had been of the regulation variety, he might perhapshave known how to ask a few respectful questions without a change ofhis professional countenance and have gained his information withoutbetraying its significance. But as it was, he had for the moment putoff the wooden, expressionless face that he was supposed to wear athis work, and was openly anxious and disturbed.

  "We're troubled about Mr. Peyton, Mrs. Brown and I," he began, comingfrankly to the point at once. "He had a queer visitor to-day, one whohas just been coming lately and who always leaves him upset. I wonderif you saw him, a thin man with a brown face and a kind of a way withhim, somehow, in spite of his bad clothes."

  "Did he drive a shambling old horse?" inquired Oliver, rememberingsuddenly the person he had noticed on the road, "and a wagon thatrattled as though it were twenty years old? Yes, we both saw him."

  "Had you ever seen him before?" Hotchkiss asked eagerly, and seemeddisappointed when Oliver replied:

  "No, we had never laid eyes on him before to-day."

  "It is just in the last few weeks that he has been coming here sooften," the man went on. "Before that he came rarely and we didn'tthink so much about him. I can remember the first time I saw him, soonafter I had come to Mr. Peyton, a year ago. The fellow rang the bellas bold as anything, but when I saw that rickety outfit drawn up tothe steps, I was about to tell him that the other entrance was theplace for him. He must have read my eye--he's a sharp one--for hesaid, 'Your master won't thank you for turning me away, when I'm amember of the family,' and sure enough, there was Mr. Peyton behind mein the hall telling me to bring him in. He was nervous and put outwith everybody after the man was gone, and he is more and more upseteach time he comes. And the fellow begins to come often. I thoughtthat if he was a member of the family you might know who he was--andhow we could get rid of him."

  The heat of the last words put an end to any possible thought thatthe man's questions were prompted by a servant's unwarranted curiosityconcerning his master. It was plain that Cousin Jasper was awell-beloved employer and that the two chief persons of his householdhad been laying their heads together over the mystery of his evidenttrouble.

  Hotchkiss was about to tell them more, when a bell, sounding below,summoned him away. There was an interval during which they tried toreturn to their books, but found their minds occupied with thoughts ofwhat the butler had said. Who could this man be, whom they had bothnoticed and both set down as odious, and whose coming seemed to havesuch an unhappy effect upon Cousin Jasper? A relative? It did not seempossible. Presently Hotchkiss was at the door again, more troubledthan ever.

  "Mr. Peyton wants the motor, but it's Jennings' eve
ning off and he hasgone to town," he said. "Didn't I hear you tell him, Mr. Oliver, thatyou knew how to drive that make of car?"

  Oliver had, indeed, dropped such a hint two days before, hoping thatthe dullness of his visit might be lightened by his being invited totake the car out for a spin. The statement had fallen on quiteunheeding ears in Cousin Jasper's case, but had been treasured up bythe butler.

  "Yes, I can drive it," agreed Oliver, rather doubting whether CousinJasper would really desire him as a chauffeur. He got up and wentdownstairs, to find his cousin waiting in the hall, so nervous andimpatient that he made no other comment than:

  "We must make haste."

  Oliver hurried out to the garage, backed out the heavy car, pausedunder the portico for Cousin Jasper to climb in beside him, and spedaway down the drive.

  "Which way?" he asked, as they came out through the gate, and wasdirected along the road he had followed that afternoon.

  "You may go as fast as you like, I am in a hurry," was Cousin Jasper'sunexpected permission, so that Oliver, nothing loath, let out the carto its full speed. It was very dark, for the moon had gone under acloud. The road, showing vaguely white through the blackness, wasnearly empty and the tree trunks flashed by, looking unreal in theglare of the lamps, like the cardboard trees of a scene on the stage.The big car hummed and the wind sang in Oliver's ears, but for onlythe briefest moment, for they seemed to come immediately to acrossroad, where Cousin Jasper bade him turn. A slower pace wasnecessary here, for the going was rough and uneven, yet not sodifficult as that of the narrower lane in which they presently foundthemselves. Here the machine lurched among the deep ruts, rustledthrough high grass and low-hanging trees, and finally came to a stopbefore a gate.

  "No, wait here," directed Cousin Jasper as Oliver made a move to getout. "I shall not be gone very long."

  He climbed out and jerked at the gate, which, one hinge being gone,opened reluctantly to let him pass. He stalked away, a tall, awkwardfigure in the brilliant shaft of light from the lamps, walking with afierce, determined dignity up the path that disappeared into the dark.Oliver felt a sudden rush of pity for him and of shame that he had sonearly deserted him.

  "It must be hard," he thought, "to be so miserable and anxious, and tohave no one to talk it over with. And I do wonder what is the matter?"

  He waited an hour--and another. He had dimmed his lamps and could seevaguely the outline of a house, with one dull light in a window. A dogbarked somewhere beyond the gate, and presently a child began crying.It cried a very long time, then at last was quiet, but still no onecame. Oliver fell asleep finally against the comfortable leathercushions, and slumbered he knew not how long before he was aroused bythe protesting creak of the broken gate. He thought, as he was waking,that a man's voice, high-pitched with anger, was talking in the dark,but when he had rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he saw no one butCousin Jasper.

  "I had not thought it would be so long," was all his cousin said as hegot in, and after that there was no word spoken until they enteredtheir own gate and rolled up to the door.

  "You drive well for a boy. Good night," said Cousin Jasper as heclimbed out and entered the house. In his hurried, awkward way, he wasattempting to express his gratitude, but he had managed to say thewrong thing.

  "For a boy, indeed," snorted Oliver, as he guided the car into thedoor of the garage, and repeated it as he went up the stairs to hisroom: "For a boy!"

  The big clock in the hall was solemnly striking one.

  Oliver was wondering, as he came down to breakfast next morning, whathis cousin would say in explanation of their midnight expedition, butdiscovered that Cousin Jasper had adopted the simple expedient ofsaying nothing at all. The matter was not even referred to until justas they were leaving the table, and then only indirectly.

  "I should have thought of it before," their host said, "that it mightgive you some pleasure to take out the car. Use it every day, if youwish, and take Jennings or not, just as it suits you. I have realconfidence in your driving, Oliver."

  It was surprising how completely matters were put upon another footingby what he had said. If Cousin Jasper had confidence in him, Oliverthought, he need no longer feel like a neglected outsider, one who wasof no use or worth in the household.

  "Get your hat, Janet," he urged promptly.

  He had not an instant's hesitation in deciding where they would gofirst.

  Just as Cousin Jasper was entering his study he turned back to say:

  "Now about your Cousin Eleanor----"

  But Oliver either did not or would not hear, as he sped away towardthe garage. Perhaps Cousin Jasper understood the smile that Janet gavehim, for he smiled himself and said no more.

  In the very shortest time possible, Oliver and Janet were bowlingalong the smooth white road with all the blue and golden sunlight of acool June morning about them. Oliver laughed when he thought of hisdusty progress along that way the day before. There was little dangerof his running away now, for the dreaded Cousin Eleanor was quiteforgotten and he was certain that the time would not pass slowly sincehe had acquired this splendid new plaything.

  He wondered, as the highway spun away beneath the swift wheels, whichof the crossroads that he passed was the one that he had traveled theevening before, but the night had been so dark and their speed sogreat that he was quite unable to decide. It was only after exploringa good many of Medford Valley's lesser thoroughfares, after awkwardturns in narrow byroads that proved to be mere blind alleys, that theybegan to come closer and closer to the foot of the hill. Not beingable to find a direct path, Oliver finally drew up beside the lowstone wall and plunged, on foot, through the high grass of theorchard.

  "Wait until I see if they are here," he instructed Janet, "and then Iwill come back for you."

  His new acquaintances were sitting on the bench beside the doorway ashe came up the hill, Polly in a very trim blue dress and without herapron, but the Beeman in his same dilapidated overalls. The girl had anotebook on her knee and was putting down records at her father'sdictation.

  "Here is our friend in need, of yesterday," said the Beeman cordiallyas Oliver came up the path, "but we can't put him to work to-daybecause we are just about to set off to fetch some new beehives. Thereare more colonies than I thought that need dividing, and I find I amout of hives."

  "Let me get them for you," Oliver offered at once, and explained thepresence of his sister in the car below.

  "Polly can go with you to show you the way," the Beeman agreedwillingly. "John Massey, who makes our hives for us, lives a good manymiles away, at the upper end of Medford Valley. I shall be glad tosave the time of going myself. Come to the top of the hill, so that Ican point out the direction of the road to you."

  They took the little path beyond the house, leading upward to the verysummit of the hill. In the direction from which Oliver had come, upthe gentler incline of the southern slope, the view was narrowed bythe woods and the orchard, showing only the long vista that led awaytoward the high ridge opposite and the blue dip of shining sea. Onthe eastern face of the hill, however, the ground fell away steeply toa sweep of river and a broad stretch of green farming country. It laysbelow like a vast sunken garden, with great square fields for lawnsand clumps of full-leaved, rounded trees for shrubbery. Theyellow-green of wheat and the blue-green of oats stretched out, asmooth expanse that rippled and crinkled as the wind and the sweepingshadow of a cloud went slowly down the valley. There were no countryhouses of high-walled, steep-roofed magnificence here, onlycomfortable farm dwellings with wide eaves and generous barns, a fewwith picturesque, pointed silos and slim, high-towering windmills.

  "Most of that farming land belongs to your Cousin Jasper," the Beemansaid, while Oliver, too intent upon staring at the view below him,failed to wonder how he happened to know so much of their affairs."That whole portion of the valley was waste, swampy ground at onetime; it was an uncle of Jasper Peyton's who drained the land thirtyyears ago and built dikes to keep the river back. He ar
ranged to rentit out to tenant farmers, for he said one man should own the whole tokeep up the dikes and see that the stream did not come creeping inagain. Medford River looks lazy and sleepy enough, but it can be araging demon when the rains are heavy and the water comes up. Yourcousin owns all of it still except for a portion up there at the bendof the stream. That has passed out of his hands lately. It is at thefar end, on the last farm, that John Massey lives."

  Oliver from this vantage point could pick out the intricate successionof lanes and highroad that he must take to cross the river and reachJohn Massey's place, showing from here as only a dot of a gray houseat the angle of the stream. The sunshine was very clear and hot overthe valley below, but the oak tree spread its broad shadow all aboutthem and bowed its lofty head to a fresh, salt-laden wind.

  "See how still the trees are along the river," said the Beeman, "butthe oak tree is never quiet. The breeze comes past that gap in thehills, yonder where you can look through to the sea, and it seemsnever to stop blowing. So we call this place the Windy Hill."

  The three set off on their errand very gayly in the big car, althoughPolly and Janet, in the back seat together, were a little shy andsilent at the very first. At the end of a mile, however, they werebeginning to warm toward each other and had set up a brisk chatterbefore they had gone three.

  "I knew Janet would like Polly," Oliver was thinking. "She is the sortof girl I like myself, not like Cousin Eleanor. The kind that makesyou feel that your clothes and your manners are all wrong and that youhaven't anything to say--those are the girls I can't stand."

  He quite forgot that this harsh judgment of his unknown relative wasnot based upon any real evidence.

  When they reached the floor of the valley they found it as level as atable, with a straight road running from end to end, along which theysped in a whirling cloud of dust. Other cars passed them, driven byprosperous farmers, the growl and clatter of motor tractors soundedfrom the fields on either hand. Halfway up the valley the character ofthe places seemed to change, the houses had the look of needing paint,the weeds were taller along the fences, and there were no silos nortractors to be seen. As they neared John Massey's house, the road cameclose to the river, with the high, grass-covered bank of earth thatwas the dike rising at their left as they drove along.

  They were obliged to stop where some horses were walking in the roadahead of them and seemed slow in making way. The big gray and browncreatures were dragging huge flat stones, each hooked to the traceswith an iron chain, scuffling and scraping along in the dust.

  "I'm sorry," said the sunburned man who drove the last team, lookingback to where the car waited in the road. "We'll make room in aminute, but the horses are doing all they can."

  "We are in no hurry," responded Oliver. "Where are you taking thestones and what are they for?"

  "To mend the dike, quite a way downstream. It takes a lot of patchingto keep banks like these whole and strong, but they guard somevaluable land. The dike looks as though it needed repairs up here atthis end, but nobody does much to it. Mr. Peyton has us go over hissection of the banks every year."

  The horses moved forward, leaving room for them to pass, and the carwent on.

  John Massey's house was the last one at the end of the road, a littleplace with a roof that needed new shingles and with sagging stepsleading up to the door. Oliver, with some difficulty, squeezed the bigcar through the gate and followed the rutty driveway to the open spacebehind the house. There was a stretch of grass, a well, two stragglingapple trees, and a row of beehives. An inquisitive cow came to thegate of the barnyard and thrust her head over it to stare at them withthe frank curiosity of a country lady who sees little of strangers.

  "Here is John Massey," said Polly, as a rather heavy-faced, shabby manwith kindly blue eyes came out of one of the barns. "My father gavehim some of these beehives and taught him how to make new ones. He isvery clever at it, and it means a good deal to him to make ours, forhe is very poor. He works very hard on his farm, but it never seems tobe much of a success."

  The hives were brought out and paid for and stowed in the back of thecar. Oliver was just making ready for the somewhat difficult feat ofbacking the car around in the narrow space between house and barn,when there came a rattling of wheels through the gate and a loud,rasping voice was heard calling for John Massey.

  "That's Mr. Anthony Crawford," said the farmer, who had been standingby the car admiring wistfully its shining sides and heavy tires. "Heowns this place and he comes up here nearly every day to see how I'mfarming it. I don't accomplish much with him always around to give mesharp words and never a dollar for improvements. I've told him ahundred times that the dike ought to be looked after this year orwe'll be having a flood, but he always says he guesses it will hold.Yes, sir, I'm coming."

  The calls had grown too loud to be disregarded, although it was plainthat John Massey was in no haste to obey the summons. In a moment theowner of the voice came jingling and rattling around the corner of thehouse, the same narrow-faced, gray-eyed man that Oliver had met on theroad, driving the same bony, knock-kneed horse.

  "Whoa, there, whoa!" cried the driver, for the old white steed hadcaught sight of the car and was testifying to its dislike of it bygrotesque prancings and sidlings that threatened to wreck theramshackle trap. "Here, get out of my way!" he ordered Oliver, "thatis, if you know how to handle that snorting locomotive that you thinkyou're driving."

  Red with anger, Oliver started his engine and embarked upon amaneuver that was difficult at best, and, under the presentunfavorable circumstances, proved to be nearly impossible. He turnedthe car half round, collided with a pigsty, backed into the barnyardfence, and narrowly missed taking a wheel off Anthony Crawford'sdecrepit wagon. That gentleman assisted the process with jeeringremarks and criticisms, while Oliver grew redder and redder with furyand embarrassment. At last, however, the car was turned and stood fora moment in the driveway, facing the white horse which seemed to haveresigned itself to the presence of the puffing monster and to be veryreluctant to move.

  "I have got out of your way, now will you be good enough to get out ofmine?" said Oliver very slowly, lest the rage within him should breakout into open insult.

  In spite of his anger he could not help noticing that the man beforehim moved with a curious easy grace, and that when he smiled, with awhite flash of teeth, he was almost attractive. It was impossible todeny that, except for his thin lips and his hard gray eyes, he washandsome.

  "He must be about Cousin Jasper's age," Oliver thought as he satlooking at him while the other stared in return.

  "I should like to pass," the boy persisted, since the other made nomove.

  "So you shall, Mr. Oliver Peyton," returned the man, "only don'texpect me to move as fast or as gracefully as you did. You wonder howI know your name, I suppose. Well, if that precious Cousin Jasper ofyours and mine were a little more outspoken about his affairs, youwould know all about me. If you want to know where I live, just lookover the back wall of your cousin's garden. Do it some time when heisn't looking, for he doesn't love to think of what lies behind thatwall where the fruit trees are trained so prettily and where the treesand shrubs grow so high."

  He had made way at last and the car moved forward, but he turned toshout a last bitter word after them.

  "If you want to know one of your Cousin Jasper's meanest secrets, lookover the wall."