"Found no gold," he said. "Came away poorer than when I went. But such a place to live! Those silences at the back of the north wind GOT me. I've never belonged to myself since."
Yet he was not a great talker. He told a great deal in a few well- chosen words - how well-chosen Valancy did not realise. And he had a knack of saying things without opening his mouth at all.
"I like a man whose eyes say more than his lips," thought Valancy.
But then she liked everything about him - his tawny hair - his whimsical smiles - the little glints of fun in his eyes - his loyal affection for that unspeakable Lady Jane - his habit of sitting with his hands in his pockets, his chin sunk on his breast, looking up from under his mismated eyebrows. She liked his nice voice which sounded as if it might become caressing or wooing with very little provocation. She was at times almost afraid to let herself think these thoughts. They were so vivid that she felt as if the others MUST know what she was thinking.
"I've been watching a woodpecker all day," he said one evening on the shaky old back verandah. His account of the woodpecker's doings was satisfying. He had often some gay or cunning little anecdote of the wood folk to tell them. And sometimes he and Roaring Abel smoked fiercely the whole evening and never said a word, while Cissy lay in the hammock swung between the verandah posts and Valancy sat idly on the steps, her hands clasped over her knees, and wondered dreamily if she were really Valancy Stirling and if it were only three weeks since she had left the ugly old house on Elm Street.
The barrens lay before her in a white moon splendour, where dozens of little rabbits frisked. Barney, when he liked, could sit down on the edge of the barrens and lure those rabbits right to him by some mysterious sorcery he possessed. Valancy had once seen a squirrel leap from a scrub pine to his shoulder and sit there chattering to him. It reminded her of John Foster.
It was one of the delights of Valancy's new life that she could read John Foster's books as often and as long as she wanted to. She read them all to Cissy, who loved them. She also tried to read them to Abel and Barney, who did not love them. Abel was bored and Barney politely refused to listen at all.
"Piffle," said Barney.
CHAPTER XIX
Of course, the Stirlings had not left the poor maniac alone all this time or refrained from heroic efforts to rescue her perishing soul and reputation. Uncle James, whose lawyer had helped him as little as his doctor, came one day and, finding Valancy alone in the kitchen, as he supposed, gave her a terrible talking to - told her she was breaking her mother's heart and disgracing her family.
"But WHY?" said Valancy, not ceasing to scour her porridge pot decently. "I'm doing honest work for honest pay. What is there in that that is disgraceful?"
"Don't quibble, Valancy," said Uncle James solemnly. "This is no fit place for you to be, and you know it. Why, I'm told that that jail-bird, Snaith, is hanging around here every evening."
"Not EVERY evening," said Valancy reflectively. "No, not quite every evening."
"It's - it's insufferable!" said Uncle James violently. "Valancy, you MUST come home. We won't judge you harshly. I assure you we won't. We will overlook all this."
"Thank you," said Valancy.
"Have you no sense of shame?" demanded Uncle James.
"Oh, yes. But the things _I_ am ashamed of are not the things YOU are ashamed of." Valancy proceeded to rinse her dishcloth meticulously.
Still was Uncle James patient. He gripped the sides of his chair and ground his teeth.
"We know your mind isn't just right. We'll make allowances. But you MUST come home. You shall not stay here with that drunken, blasphemous old scoundrel - "
"Were you by any chance referring to ME, MISTER Stirling?" demanded Roaring Abel, suddenly appearing in the doorway of the back verandah where he had been smoking a peaceful pipe and listening to "old Jim Stirling's" tirade with huge enjoyment. His red beard fairly bristled with indignation and his huge eyebrows quivered. But cowardice was not among James Stirling's shortcomings.
"I was. And, furthermore, I want to tell you that you have acted an iniquitous part in luring this weak and unfortunate girl away from her home and friends, and I will have you punished yet for it - "
James Stirling got no further. Roaring Abel crossed the kitchen at a bound, caught him by his collar and his trousers, and hurled him through the doorway and over the garden paling with as little apparent effort as he might have employed in whisking a troublesome kitten out of the way.
"The next time you come back here," he bellowed, "I'll throw you through the window - and all the better if the window is shut! Coming here, thinking yourself God to put the world to rights!"
Valancy candidly and unashamedly owned to herself that she had seen few more satisfying sights than Uncle James' coat-tails flying out into the asparagus bed. She had once been afraid of this man's judgment. Now she saw clearly that he was nothing but a rather stupid little village tin-god.
Roaring Abel turned with his great broad laugh.
"He'll think of that for years when he wakes up in the night. The Almighty made a mistake in making so many Stirlings. But since they are made, we've got to reckon with them. Too many to kill out. But if they come here bothering you I'll shoo 'em off before a cat could lick its ear."
The next time they sent Dr. Stalling. Surely Roaring Abel would not throw him into asparagus beds. Dr. Stalling was not so sure of this and had no great liking for the task. He did not believe Valancy Stirling was out of her mind. She had always been queer. He, Dr. Stalling, had never been able to understand her. Therefore, beyond doubt, she was queer. She was only just a little queerer than usual now. And Dr. Stalling had his own reasons for disliking Roaring Abel. When Dr. Stalling had first come to Deerwood he had had a liking for long hikes around Mistawis and Muskoka. On one of these occasions he had got lost and after much wandering had fallen in with Roaring Abel with his gun over his shoulder.
Dr. Stalling had contrived to ask his question in about the most idiotic manner possible. He said, "Can you tell me where I'm going?"
"How the devil should I know where you're going, gosling?" retorted Abel contemptuously.
Dr. Stalling was so enraged that he could not speak for a moment or two and in that moment Abel had disappeared in the woods. Dr. Stalling had eventually found his way home, but he had never hankered to encounter Abel Gay again.
Nevertheless he came now to do his duty. Valancy greeted him with a sinking heart. She had to own to herself that she was terribly afraid of Dr. Stalling still. She had a miserable conviction that if he shook his long, bony finger at her and told her to go home, she dared not disobey.
"Mr. Gay," said Dr. Stalling politely and condescendingly, "may I see Miss Stirling alone for a few minutes?" Roaring Abel was a little drunk - just drunk enough to be excessively polite and very cunning. He had been on the point of going away when Dr. Stalling arrived, but now he sat down in a corner of the parlour and folded his arms.
"No, no, mister," he said solemnly. "That wouldn't do - wouldn't do at all. I've got the reputation of my household to keep up. I've got to chaperone this young lady. Can't have any sparkin' going on here behind my back."
Outraged Dr. Stalling looked so terrible that Valancy wondered how Abel could endure his aspect. But Abel was not worried at all.
"D'ye know anything about it, anyway?" he asked genially.
"About WHAT?"
"Sparking," said Abel coolly.
Poor Dr. Stalling, who had never married because he believed in a celibate clergy, would not notice this ribald remark. He turned his back on Abel and addressed himself to Valancy.
"Miss Stirling, I am here in response to your mother's wishes. She begged me to come. I am charged with some messages from her. Will you" - he wagged his forefinger - "will you hear them?"