Augusta Huiell Seaman - The Curious Affair at Heron Shoals (Augusta Huiell Seaman) (Literary Thoughts Edition)

Mrs. Greene only grunted in reply, but her eyes were veiled in an inscrutable look that was not lost on Marty, who went on:

“They said they‘d had orders from the big department store up the coast, where they came from, to bring them down and set them up in the Station. That former Captain Greene—that’s Uncle Cy—who lived close by, had been informed about it and would see that they were received. That’s all they knew about it, and they left me, while they walked over the dunes to get some boards.

“I didn’t waste a minute after that, but hustled down to Uncle Cy’s to hear all about it. Only Gwen was there—and Aunt Emmeline, of course—and they said Uncle Cy was over at the Station doing something or other—they didn’t know what. Gwen had tried to go out and scout around to find out—she’s the most curious little imp! But Uncle Cy had shooed her back into the house and told her to stay there. So they didn’t know anything about what I’d seen, but you’d better believe they were just about wild when I told them! Gwen was all for flying up the road to see the van, but Aunt Emmeline said she simply couldn’t go as she had to peel the potatoes for supper. Aunt Emmeline asked all sorts of questions, too, but I just couldn’t make her understand—she’s so deaf!

“I knew I ought to come right home, but I just couldn’t budge till I’d seen that van get down here—and after a long time it did. They got it up as near as they could to the Station through the sand and then they opened it and began to unload the pianos. But I’d never have known they were pianos—grand or otherwise—if I hadn’t heard it before! They were just two great humpy things all covered with blankets and then a lot of legs, all separate and a couple of benches. Uncle Cy was superintending getting them in, and when they were all in—and the doors closed—and there wasn’t any more excitement, I knew I’d better come on home, so I did. But what do you suppose it’s all about?”

Mrs. Greene fussed about the stove a bit with the supper that was cooking before she answered, with her back turned to Marty, “Mebbe they’re just going to store them there.”

Marty snorted impatiently. “That’s impossible, Nana! If they were storing them, they wouldn’t take all the wrappings off and set them up, side by side, in the big mess-room. And that’s just what they were doing. I peeked in the windows when I came away and saw it. No, unless some one’s coming down to play on them—or give a concert, I can’t imagine what they’re for. And, Nana,” she ended accusingly, “I do believe you know all about it, and won’t tell—you act as if you had a secret!”

Mrs. Greene, still stirring things on the stove, shrugged her shoulders, as if giving up the battle and remarked: “Well, mebbe I do—but I got to get supper on the table, and you’d best go out and fetch in another scuttle of coal. We’ll need it. While we’re eating I’ll tell you what I know—but not before!”

Marty seized the empty scuttle and, sighing impatiently, went outside to the coal-and-woodshed to fill it up. A wine-colored afterglow still lit the sky in the west, and the air was sweet with the scent of cedars and the pungent odor of fallen leaves. Marty stood still a moment to sniff the air, but the beauty of outdoors did not afford her the usual keen pleasure, for her mind was disturbed by the foreboding that something unwelcome was coming, when her grandmother should disclose what this curious affair was all about. That it was something that might affect their own peaceful daily lives, Marty was pretty well convinced. She shoveled the scuttle-full of coal and returned to the house to wait with what patience she could muster till Mrs. Greene had decided to reveal the secret.

Presently they sat down to their simple but appetizing supper of clam chowder, creamed oysters, hot biscuits and gingerbread, and while they were eating, Marty demanded:

“Now, Nana, go ahead with your story. You promised to tell me while we were having supper. What’s been happening while I was away?”

Mrs. Greene took a sip of her tea and remarked,

“Well, I don’t suppose you’re going to like it, but it was something I couldn’t very well let go by. You know Professor Sedgwick who always comes here and stays with us while he’s doing that surf-fishing in the summer and fall. He broke a leg this summer and couldn’t get down at all—can’t till next year, he wrote—and I missed him a lot. Missed the money he always paid us, too. It went a good way toward helping with the winter.”

“I missed him, too,” added Marty. “He’s such a nice man, so jolly and kind, and no trouble at all about the place. But what about him?”

“Only this about him,” went on Mrs. Greene. “About a week ago, he wrote to ask me would I be willing to take in a friend of his for about six weeks, beginning to-morrow. He said this man was very much interested in surf-fishing, too, and would like to try it down here. But the main reason was about this man’s son—a boy of twelve, I think he said. The boy has been rather ailing lately—not real sick but just not up to the mark—and he thought it would do the little feller good to be down here for a while. So he wants to bring him, too. And the boy has a sort of teacher that goes around with him, a man, and he’s to come along, too. That’ll be three of ’em, but Professor Sedgwick wrote that the boy’s father was a wealthy man and would be willing to pay anything in reason I’d charge. It was too good a chance to miss, so I didn’t feel I ought to refuse. It’ll set us up for a good winter and we won’t have to scrimp so much. Now you know!”

Marty put down her fork and groaned. This was worse than anything she had imagined.

“Nana!” she cried despairingly. “However are we going to manage it all? This will mean an awful lot of work, and you aren’t any too strong and I have to be away at high school most of the day and ought to study when I get home. I’ll have to stay home entirely if you’re going to do this—and then I probably won’t be able to pass my examinations—and I can’t graduate next year!” She pushed her plate away from her and got up to ease her annoyance by striding about the room. At the same moment, the parrot awoke from a nap on his perch and began to shriek—“Don’t get excited!—Don’t get excited!—Don’t—”

“Oh, hush up, Methuselah—or I’ll throw something at you!” cried Marty in complete exasperation. But Mrs. Greene intervened,

“Now you just come and set down, Marty—and listen to me! You ain’t heard it all yet. No need to go off like a fire-cracker, that way!” Marty rather sulkily resumed her seat and Mrs. Greene went on:

“This ain’t going to interfere with you at all. I’m going to get enough from it so I can hire Hettie Boscom uptown to come in by the day and do all the heavy work—and you won’t have to raise a finger—more’n you do now. And I’ll still make a good profit besides. So just calm down! After all, it’s only for six weeks.” At this news Marty’s expressive face cleared and she began to take more interest in the event.

“Well, maybe it won’t be so bad,” she conceded, “only I do hate so many strange people about the house and—” A sudden thought occurred to her and she demanded—“But what’s all this got to do with those two grand pianos over at the Station?”

Old Mrs. Greene’s serious face relaxed and she almost chuckled, as she replied, “Funny thing about that, too! The Professor tells me this here little boy, he’s a regular musical wonder! Plays so beautiful it’s just like a grown person. The teacher that’s coming with them—he’s a music-teacher—and he’s training this boy for a big concert he’s going to play in this winter. That’s what them two pianos are for—so that they can both practise on ’em at once. Funniest idea; I can’t see why one wouldn’t do.”