CHAPTER VII

A STRANGER IN THE KINGDOM

Janet halted in her climb up the steep bank at the back of the deserted house and smiled down at the ground. The perfect outline of a bare foot made a path ahead of her straight to the steps of the porch.

It was one of the warm, golden days that come sometimes in the fall, as though the summer, being sorry to go, sent it to bid a last regretful good-by.

A week had passed since the fair, and during that time Janet had made many trips to her Kingdom and she and Peter had become fast friends. They read their favorite books aloud to each other and played a game of "pretend" that would have been impossible to two people who had not both understood the meaning of loneliness.

To-day Janet found Peter deep in a thick, uninteresting-looking book, but as she appeared in the window he closed it and jumped up.

"Good morning, Princess," he greeted. "I thought you were never coming, I chopped wood, fed the chickens and did all I could think of so that I wouldn't be missed."

"I couldn't get away a minute sooner,"--Janet made a comical face. "Mrs. Blake came to see grandmother yesterday, and of course she had to tell her that she was so surprised to learn that I didn't like to sew. Grandmother didn't say much, but this morning she made me hem some dish towels, for of course she knows I can sew passably well when I want to. Now she'll show them to Mrs. Blake the next time she comes." A note of affection crept into her voice as she added, "Grandmother's like that."

"What are you reading?" she inquired a minute later.

"A book about sheep," Peter replied. "It's kind of dull, but I like it. I imagine sometimes that I--" He hesitated and blushed.

"What?" Janet encouraged.

"Nothing, anyway you'd laugh at me if I told you."

"I would not!"

"Well--"

"Well, what?"

"Oh, it's just a crazy notion of mine, but I like to think sometimes that I own this place, and then I plan what I'd do with it, and one of the plans is to turn it into a sheep farm,"--he laughed nervously--"I guess I'd better stop dreaming though and get to real work now."

Janet noticed that he laid stress on the word "now," and she looked at him inquiringly. He pretended not to notice her.

"Peter," she said finally, "it isn't nice to be mysterious. What _is_ the matter with you?"

Peter ran his fingers through his red hair but he did not reply. Instead, he put the big book back on its shelf and went over to the window.

"It's awfully dark in here, don't you think? And it's so bully out of doors. Let's go fishing," he suggested.

Janet nodded.

"All right; we won't catch anything but it will be fun anyway. Come ahead."

Peter led the way toward the shore and up to a dark green canoe. Janet was properly excited; she had never been in a canoe before. None of the girls she knew were at all interested in boating except to go off in sailing parties for picnics, and because the bay was very often rough and always dangerous none of the boys were allowed to have them. She smiled as she remembered Mrs. Waters' terror when Harry, the summer before, had screwed up his courage to ask for one. Yet here was Peter acting as though the most ordinary thing in the world was to go fishing in one.

"What a beauty!" she exclaimed. "Is it yours?"

Peter shook his head. "No, I found it over in our barn and I asked Mr. Blunt if I could use it. He didn't think much of the idea, but he said if I could make it watertight I could have it and welcome. A summer boarder left it here a couple of years ago. Here you go; let me help you in. Sorry I haven't any pillows," he apologized.

Janet looked up at him and laughed.

"What under the sun would I do with a pillow?" she exclaimed.

"Stick it behind your back, of course. It makes it lots easier. That is, most girls tuck 'em in all around, and they seem to like it." Peter sometimes gave Janet a feeling that he was years and years older than she by the way he talked of things, people and places.

"How do you know?" she inquired as she settled herself gingerly on the floor of the canoe.

"Seen them, by the dozens."

"Where!"

"Any place where there are canoes and girls,"--Peter grinned. "Dad and I always paddled wherever and whenever we could, and we used to laugh sometimes."

"What at?" Janet was making no effort to hide her curiosity.

Peter was busy turning the canoe around and did not answer at once. Janet watched him, fascinated. He paddled so softly and yet with so much strength that they skimmed along over the water as though they were flying. Once out into the bay and headed for the mouth of a small creek, where Peter decided was the place to fish, he returned to the subject.

"When I said just now we laughed," he explained, "I was thinking of last summer. Dad and I took a trip up the Delaware River and of course we passed lots of summer places on the way, and we'd see fellows, about eighteen, out with girls all dressed up and sitting all packed in with pillows. They looked all right, but I would hate to have had them with us in some of the storms we pulled through and some of the rocks we had to pass."

"I see,"--Janet laughed, then she said hurriedly, "Peter, what an exciting life you have had. I wish you'd tell me some more about it."

Peter shrugged his shoulders.

"Not so very," he said; "you see there was only Dad and me, and Dad was a civil engineer and he had to be on the go most of the time. Wherever there was a bridge being built or a railroad put through or a dam built he was always there, and so naturally I was too. That is, I shouldn't say naturally, because lots of people, especially women, thought it was very strange, but Dad said I was all he had left and he wasn't going to have me shut up in a school where he could never see me, so along I went, and I tell you I had some grand old times. But it's all over now and I guess I'll go to work."

"Where!" Janet asked softly.

"Out West, I guess. I like it out there, and Dad knew a lot of ranch men that would give me a job. Dad always wanted me to be an engineer, but that was before--" In spite of himself his voice broke a little, and he paddled with extra zeal.

"Oh, Peter, I'm sorry." Two big tears stood in Janet's eyes. "I wish I hadn't asked you so many questions and started you remembering."

"Oh, I'm always doing that anyway,"--Peter tried to laugh. "And I wanted to tell you about Dad anyway. Do you still feel like fishing?" he inquired, abruptly changing the subject.

"Not 'specially," Janet admitted, "I'd rather just paddle."

"Want me to teach you how!"

"Oh, would you!"

"Of course. Here, wait a minute and we'll land and change places. I wish I had another paddle, then you could paddle bow."

The exchange of seats was made and the lessons began. Janet was an apt pupil, and Peter, remembering his father's instructions of long ago, did as well as instructor. Black clouds rolled up in the west without their noticing them, and it was not until a faint peal of thunder sounded that they realized that a storm was coming up.

"Queer at this time of year, isn't it?" Peter asked, as Janet made for the bank and he took the paddle again.

Janet shook her head.

"We have pretty bad ones sometimes in the fall; sort of breaking up of summer, the fishermen say, and to-day has been hot, you know."

"Well, there's no time to lose for it's coming fast. That creek's a bad place; the trees hide the sky." Peter took long firm strokes, and they were soon out into the bay.

It was not long before the storm broke. A zig-zag of lightning and a sharp growl of thunder, and then the rain--great drops of it. The canoe bobbed up and down, but Peter managed to send it forward with every stroke. Janet, though she would never have admitted it, was thoroughly frightened, and Peter, kneeling in the stern, very calm and even smiling, began to assume in her eyes the guise of a hero.

After several strenuous minutes that seemed like as many hours they landed just below the deserted house.

"Let's go up and wait until it stops," Peter suggested as he turned the canoe over. "You can't possibly row home in this."

Janet nodded, and they trudged up the hill. They were laughing when they reached the window. Once in the Kingdom with the rain shut out, they felt very secure. Peter pointed up to the ceiling.

"It doesn't leak any more, thank goodness."

Janet felt her nose and smiled. "Then I don't suppose I ought to mind this," she said. "It's still black and blue, and nobody can understand how I ever managed to cut it just there."

"Well, you can't expect me to say I'm sorry." Peter laughed.

"You might say that you wished we had met under different conditions," Janet suggested, but Peter wouldn't agree.

"It was just right the way it was," he insisted.

"I suppose so; anyway we'd never have had such fun together if we had been introduced. Just imagine, 'Janet, I want you to meet Mr. Peter Gibbs'; how silly it sounds."

"Instead of 'Your royal highness, Princess of the Enchanted Kingdom, allow me to introduce myself, Lord Carrot Tops. My calling-card is a piece of tin, Bingo! Of course I didn't say all that but I thought most of it."

Peter laughed and Janet joined in.

"Anyway the tin calling-card part is true," she said.

They both laughed on heartily and then stopped short, their eyes on the doorway of the room.

A short fat little man, wearing a heavy gold watch chain and an old fashioned soft black hat, stood frowning at them.