The Girls of Hillcrest Farm: or, The Secret of the Rocks

“Lyd got out of bed on the wrong side this morning,” said ’Phemie. However, she went with Mr. Somers in her sister’s stead.

And Lyddy Bray was glad to be left alone. No one could honestly call Hillcrest Farm a lonesome place these days!

“I’m not sure that I wouldn’t be glad to be alone here again, with just ’Phemie and father,” the young girl told herself. “There is one drawback to keeping a boarding house–one has no privacy. In trying to make it homelike for the boarders, we lose all our own home life. Ah, dear, well! at least we are earning our support.”

For Lyddy Bray kept her books carefully, and she had been engaged in this new business long enough to enable her to strike a balance. From her present boarders she was receiving thirty-one and a half dollars weekly. At least ten of it represented her profit.

But the two young girls were working very hard. The cooking was becoming a greater burden because of the makeshifts necessary at the open fire. And the washing of bed and table linen was a task that was becoming too heavy for them.

“If we had a couple of other good paying boarders,” mused Lyddy, as she sat resting on the side porch, “we might afford to take somebody into the kitchen to help us. It would have to be somebody who would work cheap, of course; we could pay no fancy wages. But we need help.”

As she thus ruminated she was startled by seeing a figure cross the field from behind the barn. It was not Cyrus Pritchett, although the farmer spent most of his Sabbaths wandering about the fields examining the crops. Corn had not yet been planted, anyway–not here on the Hillcrest Farm.

But this was a man fully as large as Cyrus Pritchett. As he drew nearer, Lyddy thought that he was a man she had never seen before.

He wore a broad-brimmed felt hat–of the kind affected by Western statesmen. His black hair–rather oily-looking it was, like an Indian’s–flowed to the collar of his coat.

That coat was a frock, but it was unbuttoned, displaying a pearl gray vest and trousers of the same shade. He even wore gray spats over his shoes and was altogether more elaborately dressed than any native Lyddy had heretofore seen.

He came across the yard at a swinging stride, and took off his hat with a flourish. She saw then that his countenance was deeply tanned, that he had a large nose, thick, smoothly-shaven lips, and heavy-lidded eyes.

“Miss Bray, I have no doubt?” he began, recovering from his bow.

Lyddy had risen rather quickly, and only nodded. She scarcely knew what to make of this stranger–and she was alone.

“Pray sit down again,” he urged, with a wave of his hand. “And allow me to sit here at your feet. It is a lovely day–but warm.”

“It is, indeed,” admitted Lyddy, faintly.

“You have a beautiful view of the valley here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I am told below,” said the man, with a free gesture taking in Bridleburg and several square miles of surrounding country, “that you take boarders here at Hillcrest?”

“Yes, sir,” said Lyddy again.

“Good! Your rooms are not yet all engaged, my dear young lady?” said the man, who seemed unable to discuss the simplest subject without using what later she learned to call “his platform manner.”

“Oh, no; we haven’t many guests as yet.”

“Good!” he exclaimed again. Then, after a moment’s pursing of his lips, he added: “This is not strictly speaking a legal day for making bargains. But we may talk of an arrangement; mayn’t we?”

“I do not understand you, sir,” said Lyddy.

“Ah! No! I am referring to the possibility of my taking board with you, Miss Bray.”

“I see,” responded the girl, with sudden interest. “Do you think you would be suited with the accommodations we have to offer?”

“Ah, my dear miss!” he exclaimed, with a broad smile. “I am an old campaigner. I have slept gypsy-fashion under the stars many and many a night. A straw pallet has often been my lot. Indeed, I am naturally simple of taste and habit.”

He said all this with an air as though entirely different demands might reasonably be expected of such as he. He evidently had a very good opinion of himself.

Lyddy did not much care for his appearance; but he was respectably–if strikingly–dressed, and he was perfectly respectful.

“I will show you what we have,” said Lyddy, and rose and accompanied him through the house.

“You do not let any of the rooms in the east wing?” he asked, finally.

“No, sir. Neither upstairs nor down. We probably shall not disturb those rooms at all.”

Finally they talked terms. The stranger seemed to forget all his scruples about doing business on Sunday, for he was a hard bargainer. As a result he obtained from Lyddy quite as good accommodations as Mrs. Castle had–and for two dollars less per week.

Not until they had come downstairs did Lyddy think to ask him his name.

“And one not unknown to fame, my dear young lady,” he said, drawing out his cardcase. “Famous in more than one field of effort, too–as you may see.

“Your terms are quite satisfactory, I will have my trunk brought up in the morning, and I will do myself the honor to sup with you to-morrow evening. Good-day, Miss Bray,” and he lifted his hat and went away whistling, leaving Lyddy staring in surprise at the card in her hand:

Prof. Lemuel Judson Spink, M.DProprietor: Stonehedge BittersLikewise of the World FamousDIAMOND GRITS“The Breakfast of the Million”

“Why! it’s the Spink man we’ve heard so much about–the boy who was taken out of the poorhouse by grandfather. I–I wonder if I have done right to take him as a boarder?” murmured Lyddy at last.

CHAPTER XIX

THE WIDOW HARRISON’S TROUBLES

Later Lyddy Bray had more than “two minds” about taking Professor Lemuel Judson Spink to board. And ’Phemie’s “You never took him!” when she first heard the news on her return from church, was not the least of the reasons for Lyddy’s doubts.

But ’Phemie denied flatly–the next minute–that she had any real and sensible reason for opposing Mr. Spink’s coming to Hillcrest to board. Indeed, she said emphatically that she had never yet expressed any dislike for the proprietor of Diamond Grits–the breakfast of the million.

“My goodness me! why not take him?” she said. “As long as we don’t have to eat his breakfast food, I see no reason for objecting.”

But in her secret heart ’Phemie was puzzled by what “Jud Spink,” as he was called by his old associates, was up to!

She believed Cyrus Pritchett knew; but ’Phemie stood rather in fear of the stern farmer, as did his whole household.

Only Lyddy had faced the bullying old man and seemed perfectly fearless of him; but ’Phemie shrank from adding to the burden on Lyddy’s mind by explaining to her all the suspicions she held of this Spink.

The man had tried to purchase Hillcrest of Aunt Jane for a nominal sum. He had been lurking about the old house–especially about the old doctor’s offices in the east wing–more than once, to ’Phemie’s actual knowledge.

And Spink was interested in something at the back of Hillcrest Farm. He had been hunting among the rocks there until old Mr. Colesworth’s presence had driven him away.

What was he after on the old farm where he had lived for some years as a boy? What was the secret of the rocks? And had the mystery finally brought Professor Lemuel Judson Spink to the house itself as a boarder?

These questions puzzled ’Phemie greatly. But she wouldn’t put them before her sister. If Lyddy was not suspicious, let her remain so.

It was their duty to take all the boarders they could get. Mr. Spink added his quota to their profits. ’Phemie was just as eager as Lyddy to keep father on the farm and out of the shop that had so nearly proved fatal to him.

“So there’s no use in refusing to swallow the breakfast food magnate,” decided ’Phemie. “We’ll down him, and if we have to make a face at the bitter dose, all right!”

Professor Spink came the very next evening. He was a distinct addition to the party at supper. Indeed, his booming voice, his well rounded periods, his unctuous manner, his frock coat, and his entire physical and mental make-up seemed to dominate the dining-room.

Mr. Colesworth listened to his supposedly scientific jargon with a quiet smile; the geologist plainly sized up Professor Spink for the quack he was. Mr. Bray tried to be a polite listener to all the big man said.

The girls were utterly silenced by the ever-flowing voice of the ex-medicine show lecturer; but Mr. Somers was inclined to argue on a point or two with Professor Spink. This, however, only made the man “boom” the louder.

Mrs. Castle seemed willing to listen to the Professor’s verbosity and agreed with all he said. She was willing after supper to withdraw from the usual cribbage game and play “enthralled audience” for the ex-lecturer’s harangues.

He boomed away at her upon a number of subjects, while she placidly nodded acquiescence and made her knitting needles flash–and he talked, and talked, and talked.

When the little old lady retired to bed Lyddy went to her room, as she usually did, to see if she was comfortable for the night.

“I am afraid our new guest rather bored you, Mrs. Castle?” Lyddy ventured.

“On the contrary, Lydia,” replied the old lady, promptly, “his talk is very soothing; and I can knit with perfect assurance that I shall not miss count while he is talking–for I don’t really listen to a word he says!”

Professor Spink did not, however, make himself offensive. He only seemed likely to become a dreadful bore.

During the day he wandered about the farm–a good deal like Mr. Colesworth. Only he did not carry with him a little hammer and bag.

’Phemie wondered if the professor had not come here to board for the express purpose of continuing his mysterious search at the back of the farm without arousing either objection or comment.

He watched Mr. Colesworth, too. There could be no doubt of that. When the old geologist started out with his hammer and bag, the professor trailed him. But the two never went together.

Mr. Colesworth often brought in curious specimens of rock; but he said frankly that he had come across no mineral of value on the farm in sufficient quantities to promise the owner returns for mining the ore.

Aunt Jane, too, had said that the rocks back of Hillcrest had been examined by geologists time and again. There was no mineral treasure on the farm. That was surely not the secret of the rocks–and it wasn’t mineral Professor Spink was after.

But the week passed without ’Phemie’s having studied out a single sensible idea about the matter. Friday was a very hard and busy day for the girls. It was the big baking day of the week. They made a fire twice in the big brick oven, and left two pots of beans in it over night.

“But there’s enough in the larder to last over Sunday, thanks be!” sighed ’Phemie, when she and Lyddy crept to bed.

“I hope so. What a lot they do eat!” said Lyddy, sleepily.

“A double baking of bread. A dozen apple pies; four squash pies; and an extra lemon-meringue for Sunday dinner. Oh, dear, Lyd! I wish you’d let me go and ask Maw Pritchett for her Dutch oven.”

“No,” replied the older sister, drowsily. “We will not risk a refusal. Besides, Mr. Somers said something about an old lady over the ridge–beyond the chapel–who is selling out–or being sold out–Mrs. Harrison. Maybe she has something of the kind that she will sell cheap.”

“Well–that–old–brick–oven–is–kill–ing–me!” yawned ’Phemie, and then was sound asleep in half a minute.

The next morning, however, the girls hustled about as rapidly as possible and when Lucas drove up with young Mr. Colesworth they were ready to take a drive with the young farmer over the ridge.

“We want to see what this Mrs. Harrison has to sell,” explained Lyddy to Lucas. “You see, we need some things.”

“All right,” he agreed. “I’ll take ye. But whether the poor old critter is let to sell anything private, or not, I dunno. They sold her real estate last week, and this sale of household goods is to satisfy the judgment. The farm wasn’t much, and it went for a song. Poor old critter! She is certainly getting the worst end of it, and after putting up with Bob Harrison’s crotchets so many years.”

’Phemie was interested in Mrs. Harrison and wanted to ask Lucas about her; but just as they started Harris Colesworth darted out of the house again, having seen his father.

“Hold on! don’t be stingy!” he cried. “There’s a seat empty beside you, Miss Lyddy. Can’t I go, too?”

Now, how could you refuse a person as bold as that? Besides, Harris was a “paying guest” and she did not want to offend him! So Lyddy bowed demurely and young Colesworth hopped in.

“Let ’em go, Lucas!” he cried. “Now, this is what I call a mighty nice little family party–I don’t see Somers in it.”

At that Lucas laughed so he could scarcely hold the reins. But Lyddy only looked offended.

“Stop your silly giggling, Lucas,” commanded ’Phemie, fearful that her sister would become angry and “speak out in meeting.” “I want to know all about this Mrs. Harrison.”

“Is that where you’re bound–to the Widow Harrison’s?” asked Harris. “I have been told that our new friend, Professor Spink, has sold her out–stock, lock, and barrel.”

“Is that who is making her trouble?” demanded ’Phemie, hotly. “I knew he was a mean man.”

“Well, he was a bad man to go to for money, I reckon,” agreed Harris.

“Bob Harrison didn’t mortgage his place to Jud Spink,” explained Lucas. “No sir! He got the money of Reuben Smiles, years ago. And he and his widder allus paid the intrust prompt.”

“Well–how did it come into Spink’s hands?”

“Why–I dunno. Guess Spink offered Smiles a bonus. At any rate, the original mortgage had long since run out, and was bein’ renewed from year to year. When it come time for renewal, Jud Spink showed his hand and foreclosed. They had a sale, and it didn’t begin to pay the face of the mortgage. You see, the place had all run down. Bob hadn’t turned a stroke of work on it for years before he died, and the widder’d only made shift to make a garden.

“Wal, there was a clause covering all personal property–and the widder had subscribed to it. So now the sheriff is going to have a vendue an’ see if he kin satisfy Jud Spink’s claim in full. Dunno what will become of Mis’ Harrison,” added Lucas, shaking his head. “She’s quite spry, if she is old; but she ain’t got a soul beholden to her, an’ I reckon she’ll be took to the poor farm.”

CHAPTER XX

THE TEMPERANCE CLUB AGAIN

The boys sat in the buckboard and talked earnestly while Lyddy and ’Phemie Bray “visited” with the Widow Harrison. She was a tall, gaunt, sad woman–quite “spry,” as Lucas had said; but she was evidently troubled about her future.

Her poor sticks of furniture could not bring any great sum at the auction, which was slated for the next Monday. She admitted to the Bray girls that she expected the money raised would all have to go to the mortgagee.

“I did ’spect I’d be ’lowed to live here in Bob’s place till I died,” she sighed. “Bob was hard to git along with. I paid dear for my home, I did. And now it’s goin’ to be took away from me.”

“And you have no relatives, Mrs. Harrison? Nobody whose home you would be welcome in?” asked Lyddy, thoughtfully.

“Not a soul belongin’ to me,” declared Mrs. Harrison. “An’ I wouldn’t ask charity of nobody–give me my way.”

“You think you could work yet?” ventured Lyddy.

“Why, bless ye! I’ve gone out washin’ an’ scrubbin’ when I could. But folks on this ridge ain’t able to have much help. Still, them I’ve worked for will give me a good word. No young woman can ekal me, I’m proud to say. I was brought up to work, I was, an’ I ain’t never got rusty.”

Lyddy looked at ’Phemie with shining eyes. At first the younger sister didn’t comprehend what Lyddy was driving at. But suddenly a light flooded her mind.

“Goody! that’s just the thing!” cried ’Phemie, clasping her hands.

“What might ye be meanin’?” demanded the puzzled Mrs. Harrison, looking at the girls alternately.

“You are just the person we want, Mrs. Harrison,” Lyddy declared, “and we are just the persons you want. It is a mutual need, and for once the two needs have come together.”

“I don’t make out what ye mean, child,” returned the old woman.

“Why, you want work and a home. We need somebody to help us, and we have plenty of space so that you can have a nice big room to yourself at Hillcrest, and I know we shall get along famously. Do, do, Mrs. Harrison! Let’s try it!”

A blush rose slowly into the old woman’s face. Her eyes shone with sudden unshed tears as she continued to look at Lyddy.

“You don’t know what you’re saying, child!” she finally declared, hoarsely.

“Yes, dear Mrs. Harrison! We need you–and perhaps you need us.”

“Need ye!” The stern New England nature of the woman could not break up easily. Her face worked as she simply repeated the words, in a tone that brought a choking feeling into ’Phemie’s throat: “Need ye!”

But Lyddy went on to explain details, and bye-and-bye Mrs. Harrison gained control of her emotions. Lyddy told her what she felt she could afford to pay.

“It isn’t great pay, I know; but we’re not making much money out of the boarders yet; if we fill the house, you shall have more. And we will be sure to treat you nicely, Mrs. Harrison.”

“Stop, child! don’t say another word!” gasped the old woman. “Of course, I’ll come. Why–you don’t know what you’re doing for me – ”

“No; we’re doing for ourselves,” laughed Lyddy.

“You’re givin’ me a chance to be independent,” cried Mrs. Harrison. “That’s the greatest thing in the world.”

“Isn’t it?” returned Lyddy, sweetly. “I think so. That’s what we are trying to do ourselves. So you’ll come?”

“Sure as I’m alive, Miss,” declared the old woman. “Ye need have no fear I won’t. I’ll be over in time to help ye with supper Monday night. And wait till Tuesday with your washin’. I’m a good washer, if I do say it as shouldn’t.”

The young folks drove back to Hillcrest much more gaily than they had come. At least, ’Phemie and Lucas were very gay on the front seat. Harris Colesworth said to Lyddy:

“Lucas has been giving me the full history of the Widow Harrison’s troubles. And her being sold out of house and home isn’t the worst she’s been through.”

“No?”

“The man she married–late in life–was a Tartar, I tell you! Just as cranky and mean as he could be. Everybody thought he was an old soldier. He was away from here all during the Civil War–from ’61 to ’65–and folks supposed he’d get a pension, and that his widow would have something for her trouble of marrying and living with the old grouch.

“But it seems he never enlisted at all. He was just a sutler, or camp follower, or something. He couldn’t get a pension. And he let folks think that he had brought home a lot of money, and had hidden it; but when he died two years ago Mrs. Harrison didn’t find a penny. He’d just mortgaged the old place, and they’d been living on the money he got that way.”

“It seems too bad she should lose everything,” agreed Lyddy.

“I am going to stay over Monday and go to the vendue,” said Harris. “Lucas says she has a few pieces of furniture that maybe I’d like to have–a chest of drawers, and a desk – ”

“Oh, yes! I saw them,” responded Lyddy, “And she’s got some kitchen things I’d like to have, too. I need her Dutch oven.”

“Oh, I say, Miss Lyddy!” he exclaimed, eagerly, yet bashfully, “you’re not going to try to cook over that open fire all this summer? It will kill you.”

“I do need a stove–a big range,” admitted the young girl. “But I don’t see how – ”

“Let me lend you the money!” exclaimed Harris. “See! I’ll pay you ahead for father and me as many weeks as you like – ”

“I most certainly shall not accept your offer, Mr. Colesworth!” declared Lyddy, immediately on guard again with this too friendly young man. “Of course, I am obliged to you; but I could not think of it.”

She chilled his ardor on this point so successfully that Harris scarcely dared suggest that they four go to the Temperance Club meeting at the schoolhouse that night. Evidently Lucas and he had talked it over, and were anxious to have the girls go. ’Phemie welcomed the suggestion gladly, too. And feeling that she had too sharply refused Mr. Colesworth’s kindly suggestion regarding the kitchen range, Lyddy graciously agreed to go.

Mr. Somers, the school teacher, was possibly somewhat offended because Lyddy had refused to accompany him to the club meeting; but for once Lyddy took her own way without so much regard for the possible “feelings” of other people. The teacher could not comfortably take both her and ’Phemie in his buggy; and why offend Lucas Pritchett, who was certainly their loyal friend and helper?

So when the ponies and buckboard appeared after supper the two girls were in some little flutter of preparation. Old Mr. Colesworth and Grandma Castle (as she loved to have the girls call her) were on the porch to see the party off.

The girls had worked so very hard these past few weeks that they were both eager for a little fun. Even Lyddy admitted that desire now. Since their first venture to the schoolhouse and to the chapel, Lyddy had met very few of the young people. And ’Phemie had not been about much.

Since Sairy Pritchett and her mother had put their social veto on the Bray girls the young people of the community–the girls, at least–acted very coldly toward Lyddy and ’Phemie. The latter saw this more clearly than her sister, for she had occasion to meet some of them both at chapel and in Bridleburg, where she had gone with Lucas several times for provisions.

Indeed she had heard from Lucas that quite a number of the neighbors considered ’Phemie and her sister “rather odd,” to put it mildly. The Larribees were angry because Mr. Somers, the school teacher, had left them to board at Hillcrest. “Measles,” they said, “was only an excuse.”

And there were other taxpayers in the district who thought Mr. Somers ought to have boarded with them, if he had to leave Sam Larribee’s!

And of course, the way that oldest Bray girl had taken the school teacher right away from Sairy Pritchett —

’Phemie thought all this was funny. Yet she was glad Lyddy had not heard much of it, for Lyddy’s idea of fun did not coincide with such gossip and ill-natured criticisms.

’Phemie was not, however, surprised by the cold looks and lack of friendly greeting that met them when they came to the schoolhouse this evening. Mr. Somers had got there ahead of them. There was much whispering when the Bray girls came in with Harris Colesworth, and ’Phemie overheard one girl whisper:

“Guess Mr. Somers got throwed down, too. I see she’s got a new string to her bow!”

“Now, if Lyddy hears such talk as that she’ll be really hurt,” thought ’Phemie. “I really wish we hadn’t come.”

But they were in their seats then, with Harris beside Lyddy and Lucas beside herself. There didn’t seem to be any easy way of getting out of the place.

CHAPTER XXI

CAUGHT

Nettie Meyers was there–Joe Badger’s buxom friend. She stared hard at ’Phemie and her sister, and then tossed her head. But Mr. Badger came over particularly to speak to the girls.

Sairy Pritchett was very much in evidence. She sat with half a dozen other young women and by their looks and laughter they were evidently commenting unfavorably upon the Bray girls’ appearance and character.

Lyddy bowed pleasantly to Mr. Badger and the other young men who spoke to her; but she gave her main attention to Harris. But ’Phemie noted all the sidelong glances, the secret whispering, the bold and harsh words. She was very sorry they had come.

Alone, ’Phemie could have given these girls “as good as they sent.” Young as she was, her experience among common-minded girls like these had prepared her to hold her own with them. There had been many unpleasant happenings in the millinery shop where she had worked, of which she had told Lyddy nothing.

Mr. Somers came down from the desk to speak to the party from Hillcrest before the meeting opened. But everybody turned around to stare when he did so, and the teacher grew red to his very ears and remained but a moment under fire.