Cottage on the Curve

Chapter Fourteen
Dad Finds a Treasure

“James will get his usual letter from that stamp dealer down east,” said Jane. “He will say: ‘Dear Mr. Murray, I received your want list, but you failed to include your money’ or he’ll say: ‘Dear Mr. Murray, I received your dollar and three cents, but you failed to include your want list. Please advise, etc.’” They laughed merrily at absent-minded James and his difficulties, and then Jane heard the familiar squeal of the mailman’s brakes.

“Here he comes,” she cried. “I’ll race you to the mailbox!” They jumped off the posts and ran across the road. Jane had the shorter distance, but Billy won by throwing himself full length on the grass and sliding to touch the post.

“Really, Billy,” panted Jane. “Sometimes you use the foulest and the most unfairest means....”

Billy hooted. “Foulest and unfairest!” Then, imitating her angry voice, he said, “Really, Jane, you use the most unusual adjectives!”

She threw a shoe at him, and he ran away laughing.

The mailman’s car slid in close to the mailbox. He had a brown face, all wrinkled from smiling. He was an usher at the little church in Deerpath, and when he passed the collection plate to Janie on Sunday his eyes crinkled up in a smile just as they did now when he passed the letters from box to box at the lake.

“Here you are, young lady,” he said. “Letters for everybody today.” There was “Popular Mechanics” for the boys, and a letter for Mom from a dress shop. There were some letters for Daddy in long business envelopes and a post card for Davey. At the bottom of the heap was a square envelope addressed to:

“From Dor,” Janie exclaimed, and sat down on the grass to read it.

Janie gathered her mail together and ran down to the cottage with her news. “Here you are, my wonderful family,” she said. “Mail for all of you.” Mom sat down to glance at her letter and the boys tore the wrapper from their magazine. Davey’s post card was from a school friend, and he chuckled at the picture on the cover. It was a garish scene of an over-sized fish leaping into a row boat with a frightened fisherman. “Look,” he said, “at the big fish Greenie caught.”

Janie waited for Mom to finish, and then she burst out with, “May Dor come? I have a letter from her. May she come tomorrow?”

Mom blinked at the suddenness of it all, and put her glasses on the table. “Why yes, of course. I’d be glad to have her. What does she say?” Jane handed her the letter, and she glanced through it quickly. Then she smiled.

“It’s not tomorrow,” she said. “It’s today. This letter was written yesterday. She’ll be out on the five o’clock bus this afternoon.”

The boys were deeply absorbed in a marvelous invention that would make an iceboat out of an old baby carriage. Jane grinned and put her finger to her lips. “Don’t tell them,” she said to Mom. “They weren’t paying attention to what we said.”

She held out her arms for Butch. “Come, my little brown friend. Let’s go down to the pier and catch flies.” She stretched out on the hot boards and dreamed in the sun. Butchie scrambled around on the braces under the pier, snatching at shadows and frightening schools of timid minnows. In a little while the boys came down and jumped into the boat and rowed away. Janie stretched lazily. Two weeks from today, she thought, I’ll be back in school. It doesn’t seem possible. Why the summer has just begun. I don’t like to leave this. The sky will be just as blue when we’re gone, and the water will be just as warm. Of course school won’t be too bad, and this year there’ll be dancing class. I’ll waltz and waltz (she dreamed), in a pink tulle gown, with pale pink ostrich feathers in my hair.

Bump.... The boys banged into the pier full force with the boat and Janie sat straight up.

“Hey, hey!” she yelled. “What are you trying to do, break the pier down? Why are you back so soon? I thought you were going fishing.”

The boys laughed at her confusion. “We caught something right away,” said Billy, “so we brought it back. Hold it up James.”

It was a small green turtle. His curved green legs pawed the air as James held him up, and his under shell was red, green, and yellow in a most interesting pattern.

“I’m going to bring him back to town and give him to Robin,” said James. “He can keep him in his bathtub.”

“I guess his Grandmother will have something to say about that,” said Jane primly.

“Well,” James argued, “why should she care if the turtle stays in the bathtub? Turtles are clean. They’re almost the cleanest creatures in the whole world, and she could lift him up if someone wanted to take a bath, couldn’t she?”

“Maybe it’s a snapper,” said Jane. “You wouldn’t like it if Robin’s Grandmother had her finger snapped off by a turtle, would you?”

“Aw,” said James in disgust. “You’re always thinking of something like that,” and gathering his turtle and his fishing tackle up in his arms, he started away. Just as he left the pier he turned and narrowed his eyes. With just one word he summed up what he thought of Jane, her arguments, her ideas, and her contemporaries.

“Dames ...” he said, witheringly.

Janie turned and hid her face in her arms, and laughed until she shook. Then she gathered up Butchie and ran for the cottage.

Grandma was peeling green apples for pie. “Grandma,” she said. “Have you noticed that this summer has been much too short?”

“Yes, Jane. Every summer seems a little shorter than the last. When I was a little girl the summer days seemed to stretch in front of me like years. Now I have so much to do and so much to think about that the years fly past like days.” A long green peeling fell to the floor in the shape of a treble clef, and Grandma’s sharp little paring knife twinkled around another apple. “Your mother had a telephone message,” she said. “It seems that your friend Dor is coming out on the five o’clock bus.”

“Oh goody, oh wonderful, Grandma!” She gave her a hug that sent the little green apples flying all over the porch.

“You wild one,” said Grandma, straightening her glasses. Jane was down on her hands and knees searching for the runaways.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Just for that I’ll stay here and help you peel them.”

The afternoon passed quickly, and at five o’clock Mom drove down to the bus station with Janie beside her and the three curious boys in the back. The passengers got off on the other side of the bus, so they saw their feet and legs first. It was easy to identify Mr. Williams by his brief case. The bus driver helped an old lady off with her suitcase and then a pair of sun-tanned legs swung off the steps and Dor appeared around the corner of the bus.

“It’s Dorothy Dreyer,” cried Billy.

“Dreyer,” squealed James, “with her braces off! Boy! what teeth! A smile like a movie star.” Everybody laughed at that, and they started back for the cottage.

“Oh,” said Janie, “I’m so glad you could come. Let me hold some of your things. What in the world do you have in this one? It’s heavy.”

“Worms,” said the practical Miss Dreyer. “I knew the ground would be dry now, and you’d be running out of bait, so I brought my own bait.” Mom looked a trifle dashed, but the boys beamed on her.

“Dreyer,” said Bill. “You would have made a swell boy.”

They laughed and joked as they carried her stuff down to the cottage. Everyone seemed to feel lighthearted and gay. They sat around the table talking until it was almost dark. Someone started to sing, and they all joined in. Daddy played the piano, and the children made so much noise that Buick heard them next door and started to howl.

After the commotion died down the two girls strolled down to the pier, and sat there dipping their toes in the water and watching the reflection of the stars.

“Do you know what?” Dor asked.

“No, what?”

“I’m going to be a vet.”

“A what?”

“A vet. You know, a horse doctor. I just love horses and dogs, and I’m really very good at taking care of them. I’ve decided to devote my life to them.”

“Pooh,” said Janie inelegantly. “What about the ballet? Last year you said you were going to be a ballerina, and spend the rest of your life on your tiptoes.”

“That was last year,” said Dor patiently. “A lot can happen to a girl’s life in a year.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Janie agreed. Dor stretched out and lay on her back on the pier, looking at the stars overhead.

“I’m going to be a frozen corpse if I don’t go into the house and get a sweater. I’m beginning to sneeze.” She started for the cottage. “Do you want to come in or shall I bring a sweater for you?”

“Never mind about a sweater,” Dor said, “but send Billy down with a flashlight. We’ll go hunting frogs.”

Janie curled up on the davenport with an apple and a book. Now and then she would glance up to see the light flash on and off along the shore as Dor and Billy and James pursued their favorite pastime.

“What are those children doing down there?” asked Grandma.

“They’re catching frogs,” Mom answered.

“Catching frogs? Lands sakes! What for?”

“Just for fun. They let them go again.”

Grandma looked puzzled. “They’re really entertaining Dor,” Mom went on. “If she couldn’t have a frog hunt when she came out here for a visit, I’m sure she’d be disappointed.”

Soon after daybreak Billy scratched on Janie’s screen. There was no response. He called softly. Still no response. Then he shouted: “If you lazy girls don’t get up and come fishing with us we’ll go alone.” Janie grunted and Dor stirred. “And,” Billy continued, “we’ll take the worm can, and we’ll use up all the worms.” That helped.

“Wait for us. We’ll be right out.”

They had breakfast at the kitchen sink, and Davey heard them and demanded to go along. Five was a crowd for the row boat, but he looked so eager it was hard to refuse him. “All right,” Billy said, “but sit tight, and don’t catch any turtles.”

They pushed off in the mist. Billy and James took the oars, the girls sat on the back seat, and Davey sat in the front. They decided to try the pond first. Fishing was fair. By nine o’clock they had about a dozen blue gills. Dor was in favor of staying, but the Murrays knew they could do better than that.

“Let’s go to the dam,” said Bill, and they started down along the eastern shore.

They rowed along quietly until Janie pointed to the shore and said, “Look! Look at the smoke! The old man’s lot is on fire!” There was just enough breeze to fan the flames and while they watched the fire spread rapidly.

“Golly,” said Bill. “It’s getting close to the shack. It’s been so dry the last couple of weeks that if the fire gets over there near those old dry boards, everything will go.”

Just then the old man appeared at the door of his shack and saw the grass fire. He grabbed a shovel and began to thump at the flames vigorously. He couldn’t quite catch up with them. As fast as he would get one patch extinguished, another would creep around behind him.

“What are we sitting here for,” asked Dor getting to her feet. “Come on, let’s help him put that fire out.”

Bill looked at Janie, and Janie looked perplexed. James blurted out, “He doesn’t like us. He chased us out of there once, and Daddy and Mom told us to keep out of his way.”

Dor was indignant. “Do you mean to say that your Dad and Mom wouldn’t even let you go in there and throw a pail of water on a fire? Do you mean to say that you’d sit here and watch that old man’s house burn down?” Dor was angry. Janie was angry too.

“His house isn’t burning down. It’s just an old grass fire, and he can see us plain enough. If he wanted us to help he’d say so.”

Almost as if he had heard their words, the old man turned and shouted at them, “Hey there, you young fella in the boat, come in here and help me put this fire out. Can’t you see that it’s getting away from me? Get a move on you!”

Dor answered for the Murrays, “Here we come!” and they pulled for shore with all their might.

Billy and James ran for the pump to get water, and Dor and Janie picked up some loose boards as they ran and beat at the rapidly spreading flames. The heat was intense and the smoke choked them, but they stomped and smothered with all their strength. Davey was sent back to the pump. “You keep pumping,” Billy yelled, “and we’ll run back and forth with the buckets.”

The smoke kept getting in Janie’s eyes, and it hurt so that the tears ran. Her face burned, and she could even feel the heat through the soles of her thin summer shoes. Oh, why didn’t somebody come? They’d all burn up in this dreadful fire. She had forgotten all about her fear of the old man. In the excitement they pounded away at the fire, side by side.

Suddenly she turned and looked up at him. He had stopped and was holding his side. He had a queer expression on his face. He reached out as if to grab something, and then fell at her feet.

“Help! Help!” screamed Janie. “Dor, James, Billy! He’s fainted.”

Dor came leaping over the burned stubble. Her face was a black smudge, and she had a wild look in her eye.

“Throw water on him,” she cried. “Get him out of here!” Billy and James reached under his shoulders, and Janie and Dor caught hold of the strong leather belt at his waist. They pulled and tugged with all their might. He was awfully heavy. Davey yelled from behind them, “Hey kids, the fire is getting bad again.” There was no choice. They dropped the unconscious man and raced back to the fire.

“Davey!” Billy shouted. “You get out of here! Run to the nearest house and get help, and then run home and get Daddy!”

Davey’s short legs disappeared through the smoke, and Janie’s heart sank. One less to pump and to carry water. The old man lay just where they left him. He seemed dead. There was so much smoke in the air they could hardly see each other, and as the flames raced up the tall weed stalks bits of burning grass would fall on their arms and hands. James was sobbing as he pounded away with the flat side of his shovel. Billy was coughing and gasping.

“One more patch,” Dor called out. “This is the last bad spot! If we can put this one out, the others aren’t so bad. It’s reached the lake on one side, and it’s almost at the road on the other.”

They beat at the fire valiantly, and little by little, it gave way. The roaring and the crackling died down. It had almost burned itself out. The smoke was as bad as ever as they raced back to the old man’s side. He was awake now, but he didn’t seem able to move. They tugged and pulled at him and got him to the door of the shack. Billy looked around for a bed, but there was none. There was a cot in the corner, and they pulled it over close to the door and helped him to lie down. Dor found a towel and wiped his face. He smiled at her. He had a sort of nice face when he smiled. “Thank you, young lady,” he said, and looked at her kindly.

“Don’t talk, Mr. Mott,” said Janie. “Lie still and rest. My daddy is coming, and he’ll get a doctor.”

“Doctor? Rest? Pshaw! I never had a doctor in my life. I don’t need to rest. I’m fine now. Fit as a fiddle. I just swallowed a might too much smoke, I guess. I’m fine now, fine.” He tried to get to his feet, but it didn’t work so well, for he faltered and then settled back on the cot again. “I’m fine,” he insisted.

The inside of the shack was poor and incredibly dirty. There was a cook stove in the middle of the floor that smoked. It must have been smoking for years, because the ceiling and walls were black and covered with soot. There were no curtains on the windows. The floor was black, and there was a heap of tools in one corner and a pile of wood in the other. There were a few chairs that looked like the antique chairs that Mom had in the bedrooms at home, but they had no seats and the wood was dark and furry with dirt. Half a loaf of bread stood on a small table together with an empty meat wrapper, half a pound of lard, and a dirty frying pan. A cup and a plate and a knife stood by, looking as if they had been used again and again without washing. Janie groaned as she thought of how she hated to wash dishes. “Dear Lord,” she prayed. “If You get us out of this mess, I’ll never complain about washing dishes again. I never loved and appreciated a clean house as much as I do this minute.”

What a relief to hear Dad’s hearty voice in the yard! Davey scampered along beside him, feeling important. “Well, well, Mr. Mott. You had quite a fire, I see.” He looked at his black-faced children in amazement. “What happened?” he asked. They all started to answer at once.

“Just a minute,” he said, “let Dor tell me.” Dor took a breath and recited what had happened from the first wisp of smoke to the face washing. When she finished Dad looked very serious. “Mom is waiting for you children in the car,” he said. “She’ll drive you home.” They said “Good-by,” and hurried off.

Daddy turned to Mr. Mott. “I think you should have a doctor,” he said. “Will you let me call one for you?” The old man looked feeble lying there, and suddenly he seemed shrunken and pathetic.

“The fact is,” he said, “I haven’t any money. I have no money to call a doctor, and I won’t take charity. My father lived on this land, and now I’m going to lose it because I can’t pay my taxes. It’s a dang shame, that’s what it is.” He blew his nose fiercely.

“Now, Mr. Mott, don’t worry about that now. Lie still and rest a bit.”

“I feel fine now. Pshaw, I just lost my breath in the smoke. It does me good to talk, Mr. Murray. I don’t mind talking.” He sat up on the cot. “I tell you, sir, it isn’t right. They can’t do this to a man. We used to own a whole section of land, and now all I have left is this little piece around the house. I’m going to lose this too, because I can’t pay my taxes. Why, my father owned the finest house in the hereabouts. He owned a good deal of land too. I’ve got some papers over there on the desk I wish you’d look at. They’ll prove what I say is true.” He pointed to a heap of messy looking rubbish piled up on a flat topped desk in the corner. “Right there you’ll find a letter that my father got from the governor of the state in 1852.” Mr. Murray hesitated. “Go on,” urged Mr. Mott. “Find it. I want you to read it.”

The papers were yellow with age, calenders and advertisements for patent medicines were unclassified. There were old bread wrappers and samples of unused wall paper. Finally Mr. Murray found the letter. He took it over to the door and looked at it carefully. He didn’t read it. He just looked at it, and his excitement grew, for marching across the top of the envelope were three dark blue one-cent stamps. There was a portrait of George Washington in the center of each one. The cancellation marks were not heavy, and though they were dusty and old, they were in good condition.

“Mr. Mott,” he said. “Never mind about the letter. I think we’ve found the solution to your problem right here on the envelope.” He pointed to the stamps. “These are valuable,” he said. “I happen to know that they have a catalogue value of one hundred and fifty dollars apiece. You won’t get full value for them, of course, but you’ll get enough money to pay your back taxes, and you’ll save your land. You’ll even have a little money left over.”

Mr. Mott rose up and took the letter and looked at it. He blinked. “Are you sure, Mr. Murray?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he replied. “If you look through your old papers carefully, you may find some more of them. I tell you what we’ll do. As soon as you feel well enough I’ll drive you into town. We’ll go to the stamp dealer who buys these old stamps, and I’m sure he’ll be interested. He’ll most likely pay you a good price. What do you say?”

The old man sat holding the letter in his hands. He turned it around and around. He peered at the stamps closely. “Well, I’ll be jiggered,” he said.

Dad laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “That was just the tonic you needed,” he said. “You look much better already.”

Mr. Mott stood up. His clothes were dirty, but his shoulders squared back and he held his chin up. “The Motts aren’t licked yet,” he said. “Thanks to you, sir, the Motts still own land.”

As Dad started out the door he met the goat coming in. He looked astonished, and stepped to one side. “That’s Mirandy,” said Mr. Mott. “She won’t hurt ye none. You know,” he continued, as the goat ate crumbs from the floor, “you folks have been mighty kind to me, and I’m not going to forget it. No sir, I’m not. I’m going to give you a fine present.”

Dad looked a little flustered. “Why, no, Mr. Mott,” he said. “It wasn’t anything at all that you wouldn’t have done for a neighbor.”

“No sirree, you did me a good turn, and one of these days you’re going to get a present.”

Dad shook hands for good-by, and chuckled as he started off down the road for home. He was still chuckling when he talked to Mom about it. “The old gentleman perked right up. He even wanted to give me a present, although what he could spare, I can’t imagine.”

“Perhaps he’ll give you one of his old stamps,” said Billy.

Dad looked pleased, but he tried hard not to show it. “Here we go again,” he said, “getting romantic. I wouldn’t mind having some of the stuff he’s got. I’d like to go through that scrap heap of his more carefully.”