the fortunes of oliver horn-第39节

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beans；　and　cabbages；　and　now　combed　into　straight　green　lines　of　early　buckwheat　and　turnips。　Beyond　this　a　ragged　pasture；　fenced　with　blackened　stumps；　from　which　came　the　tinkle　of　cow…bells；　and　farther　on　the　grim；　silent　forestmiles　and　miles　of　forest　seamed　by　a　single　road　leading　to　Moose　Hillock　　and　the　great　Stone　Face。

Oliver　slipped　into　his　clothes；　ran　down　the　stairs　and　out　into　the　fresh　morning　air。　As　he　walked　toward　the　well　his　eyes　caught　sight　of　Hank's　bucket　tilted　on　one　edge　of　the　well…curb；　over　which　hung　the　big　sweep；　its　lower　end　loaded　with　stone。　On　the　platform　stood　a　wooden　bench　sloppy　with　the　drippings　of　the　water…soaked　pail。　This　bench　held　a　tin　basin　and　half　a　bar　of　rosin　soap。　Beside　it　was　a　single　post　sprouting　hickory　prongs；　on　which　were　hung　as　many　cleanly　scoured　milk…　pails　glittering　in　the　sun。　On　this　post　Hank　had　nailed　a　three…cornered　piece　of　looking…glassHank　had　a　sweetheart　in　the　village　belowa　necessity　and　useful　luxury；　he　told　Oliver　afterward；　〃in　slickin'　yerself　up　fer　meals。〃

Once　out　in　the　sunshine　Oliver；　with　the　instinct　of　the　painter　suddenly　roused；　looked　about　him。　He　found　that　the　cabin　which　had　delighted　him　so　in　the　glow　of　the　afternoon；　was　even　more　enchanting　in　the　light　of　the　morning。　To　the　plain；　every…day；　practical　man　it　was　but　a　long　box　with　a　door　in　the　middle　of　each　side；　front　and　backone　opening　into　a　sitting…room；　which　again　opened　into　a　bedroom　　in　which　Ezra　and　his　wife　slept；　with　the　windows　　choked　with　geraniums；　their　red　cheeks　pressed　against　the　small　panes；　and　the　other　opening　into　a　kitchen；　connecting　with　a　pantry　and　a　long；　rambling　woodshed。　To　our　young　Raphael　the　simple　cabin；　from　its　homely　sagging　door　to　its　broken…backed　roof；　covered　with　rotting　shingles；　was　nothing　less　than　an　enchanted　palace。

He　remembered　the　shingles。　He　had　reached　up　in　the　night　and　touched　them　with　his　hands。　He　remembered；　too；　the　fragrance　they　gave　outa　hot；　dry；　spicy　smell。　He　remembered　also　the　dried　apples　spread　out　on　a　board　beside　his　bed；　and　the　broken　spinning…wheel；　and　the　wasp's　nest。　He　was　sure；　too；　there　were　many　other　fascinating　relics　stored　away　in　this　old　attic。　But　for　the　sputtering　tallow…candle；　which　the　night　before　was　nearly　burnt　out；　he　would　have　examined　everything　else　about　him　before　he　went　to　sleep。

Then　his　eye　fell　on　the　woodshed　and　the　huge　pile　of　chips　that　Hank's　axe　had　made　in　supplying　Samanthy's　stove；　and　the　rickety；　clay…plastered　buggy　and　buckboard　that　had　never　known　water　since　the　day　of　their　birth。　And　the　two　muskrat　skins　nailed　to　the　outside　plankingspoils　of　the　mill…dam；　a　mile　below。

Yes；　he　could　paint　here！

With　a　thrill　of　delight　surging　through　him　he　rolled　up　his　sleeves；　tilted　the　bucket；　filled　the　basin　with　ice…cold　water　which　Hank　had　drawn　for　him；　a　courtesy　only　shown　a　stranger　guest；　and　plunging　in　his　hands　and　face；　dashed　the　water　over　his　head。　Samanthy；　meanwhile；　in　sunbonnet　and　straight…up…and…down　calico　dress；　had　come　out　with　the　towelhalf　a　salt…sack；　washed　and　rewashed　to　phenomenal　softness　（an　ideal　towel　is　a　salt…sack　to　those　who　know）。　Then　came　the　rubbing　until　his　flesh　was　aglow；　and　the　parting　of　the　wet　hair　with　the　help　of　Hank's　glass；　and　with　a　toss　of　a　stray　lock　back　from　his　forehead　Oliver　went　in　to　breakfast。

It　fills　me　with　envy　when　I　think　of　that　first　toilet　of　Oliver's！　I　too　have　had　just　such　morning　dips　one　in　Como；　with　the　great　cypresses　standing　black　against　the　glow　of　an　Italian　dawn；　another　in　the　Lido　at　sunrise；　my　gondolier　circling　about　me　as　I　swam；　still　a　third　in　Stamboul；　with　the　long　slants　of　light　piercing　the　gloom　of　the　stone　dome　above　mebut　oh；　the　smell　of　the　pines　and　the　great　sweep　of　openness；　with　the　mountains　looking　　down　and　the　sun　laughing；　and　the　sparkle　and　joyousness　of　it　all！　Ah；　what　a　lucky　dog　was　this　Oliver！

And　the　days　that　followed！　Each　one　a　delight　each　one　happier　than　the　one　before。　The　sun　seemed　to　soak　into　his　blood；　the　strength　of　the　great　hemlocks　with　their　giant　uplifted　arms　seemed　to　have　found　its　way　to　his　muscles。　He　grew　stronger；　more　supple。　He　could　follow　Hank　all　day　now；　tramping　the　brook　or　scaling　the　sides　of　Bald　Face；　its　cheeks　scarred　with　thunderbolts。　And　with　this　joyous　life　there　came　a　light　into　his　eyes；　a　tone　in　his　voice；　a　spring　and　buoyancy　in　his　step　that　brought　him　back　to　the　days　when　he　ran　across　Kennedy　Square　and　had　no　care　for　the　day　nor　thought　for　the　morrow。　Before　the　week　was　out　he　had　covered　half　a　dozen　canvases　with　pictures　of　the　house　as　he　saw　it　that　first　morning；　bathed　in　the　sunshine；　of　the　brook；　the　sweep　of　the　Notch；　and　two　or　three　individual　trees　that　he　had　fallen　in　love　witha　ragged　birch　in　particular　a　tramp　of　a　birch　with　its　toes　out　of　its　shoes　and　its　bark　coat　in　tatters。

Before　the　second　week　had　arrived　he　had　sought　the　main　stage…road　and　had　begun　work　on　a　big　hemlock　that　stood　sentinel　over　a　turn　in　the　highway。　　There　was　a　school…house　in　the　distance　and　a　log…bridge　under　which　the　brook　plunged。　Here　he　settled　himself　for　serious　work。

He　was　so　engrossed　that　he　had　not　noticed　the　school…children　who　had　come　up　noiselessly　from　behind　and　were　looking　in　wonder　at　his　drawings。　Presently　a　child；　who　in　her　eagerness　had　touched　his　shoulder；　broke　the　stillness　in　apology。

〃Say；　Mister；　there's　a　lady　comes　to　school　every　day。　She's　a　painter　too；　and　drawed　Sissy　Mathers。〃

Oliver　glanced　at　the　speaker　and　the　group　about　her；　wished　them　all　good…morning　and　squeezed　a　fresh　tube　on　his　palette。　He　was　too　much　absorbed　in　his　work　for　prolonged　talk。　The　child；　emboldened　　by　his　cheery　greeting；　began　again；　the　others　crowding　closer。　〃She　drawed　the　bridge　too；　and　me　and　Jennie　Waters　was　sitting　on　the　railshe's　awful　nice。〃

Oliver　looked　up；　smiling。

〃What's　her　name？〃

〃I　don't　know。　Teacher　calls　her　Miss　Margaret；　　but　there's　more　to　it。　She　comes　every　year。〃

Oliver　bent　over　his　easel；　drew　out　a　line　brush　from　the　sheaf　in　his　hand；　caught　up　a　bit　of　yellow　ochre　from　his　palette　and　touched　up　the　shadow　of　the　birch。　〃All　the　women　painters　must　be　Margarets；〃　　he　said　to　himself。　Then　he　fell　to　wondering　　what　had　become　of　her　since　the　school　closed。　He　had　always　felt　uncomfortable　over　the　night　when　he　had　defended　〃the　red…headed　girl　in　blue　gingham；〃　as　she　was　called　by　the　students。　She　had　placed　him　in　the　wrong　by　misunderstanding　　his　reasons　for　serving　her。　The　students　had　always　looked　upon　him　after　that　as　a　quarrelsome　　person；　when　he　was　only　trying　to　protect　a　woman　from　insult。　He　could　not　find　it　in　his　heart　to　blame　her；　but　he　wished　that　it　had　not　happened。　　As　these　thoughts　filled　his　mind　he　became　so　absorbed　that　the　children's　good…by　failed　to　reach　his　ear。

That　day　Hank　had　brought　him　his　luncheon　two　ears　of　hot　corn　in　a　tin　bucket；　four　doughnuts　and　an　applethe　corn　in　the　bottom　of　the　bucket　and　the　doughnuts　and　apple　on　top。　He　could　have　walked　home　for　his　midday　meal；　for　he　was　within　sound　of　Samanthy's　dinner…horn；　but　he　liked　it　better　　this　way。

Leaving　his　easel　standing　in　the　road；　he　had　waved　his　hand　in　good…by　to　Hank；　picked　up　the　bucket　and　had　crept　under　the　shadow　of　the　bridge　to　eat　his　luncheon。　He　had　finished　the　corn；　thrown　the　cobs　to　the　fish；　and　was　beginning　on　the　doughnuts；　when　a　step　on　the　planking　above　him　caused　him　to　look　up。　A　girl　in　a　tam…o'…shanter　cap　was　leaning　over　the　rail。　The　sun　was　behind　her；　throwing　her　face　into　shadowso　blinding　a　light　that　Oliver　only　caught　the　nimbus　of　fluffy　hair　that　framed　the　dark　spot　of　her　head。　Then　came　a　voice　that　sent　a　thrill　of　surprise　through　him。

〃Why；　Mr。　Horn！　Who　would　have　thought　of　meeting　you　here？〃

Oliver　was　on　his　feet　in　an　instanta　half…eaten　doughnut　in　one　hand；　his　slouch　hat　in　the　other。　With　this　he　was　shading　his　eyes　against　the　glare　of　the　sun。　He　was　still　ignorant　of　who　had　spoken　to　him。

〃I　beg　your　pardon；　IWHY；　Miss　Grant！〃　The　words　burst　from　his　lips　as　if　they　had　been　fired　from　a　gun。　〃You　here！〃

〃Yes；　I　live　only　twenty　miles　away；　and　I　come　here　every　year。　Where　are　you　staying？〃

〃At　Pollard's。〃

〃Why；　that's　the　next　clearing　from　mine。　I'm　at　old　Mrs。　Taft's。　Oh；　please　don't　leave　your　luncheon。〃

Oliver　had　bounded　up　the　bank　to　a　place　beside　her。

〃How　good　it　is　to　find　you　here。　I　am　so　glad。〃　He　WAS　glad；　he　meant　every　word　of　it。　〃Mrs。　Mulligan　said　you　lived　up　in　the　woods；　but　I　had　no　idea　it　was　in　these　mountains。　Have　you　had　your　luncheon？〃

〃No；　not　yet；〃　and　Margaret　held　up　a　basket。　〃Look！〃　and　she　raised　the　lid。　〃Elderberry　pie；　two　pieces　of　cake〃

〃Good！　and　I　have　three　doughnuts　and　an　apple。　I　swallowed　every　grain　of　my　hot　corn　like　a　greedy　Jack　Horner；　or　you　should　have　half　of　it。　Come　down　under　the　bridge；　it's　so　cool　there；〃　and　he　caught　her　hand　to　help　her　down　the　bank。

She　followed　him　willingly。　She　had　seen　him　greet　Fred；　and　Jack　Bedford；　and　even