by
Louisa May Alcott

A party of people, young and old, sat on the piazza of a seaside hotel one summer morning, discussing plans for the day as they waited for the mail.

“Hullo! here comes Christie Johnstone,” exclaimed one of the young men perched on the railing, who was poisoning the fresh air with the sickly scent of a cigarette.

“So ‘tis, with ‘Flucker, the baddish boy,’ in tow, as large as life,” added another, with a pleasant laugh as he turned to look.

The new-comers certainly looked somewhat like Charles Reade’s picturesque pair, and every one watched them with idle interest as they drew nearer. A tall, robust girl of seventeen, with dark eyes and hair, a fine color on her brown cheek, and vigor in every movement, came up the rocky path from the beach with a basket of lobsters on one arm, of fish on the other, and a wicker tray of water-lilies on her head. The scarlet and silver of the fish contrasted prettily with the dark blue of her rough dress, and the pile of water flowers made a fitting crown for this bonny young fish-wife. A sturdy lad of twelve came lurching after her in a pair of very large rubber boots, with a dilapidated straw hat on the back of his head and a pail on either arm.

Straight on went the girl, never turning head or eyes as she passed the group on the piazza and vanished round the corner, though it was evident that she heard the laugh the last speech produced, for the color deepened in her cheeks and her step quickened. The boy, however, returned the glances bent upon him, and answered the smiles with such a cheerful grin that the youth with the cigarette called out, —

“Good-morning, Skipper! Where do you hail from?”

“Island, yender,” answered the boy, with a gesture of his thumb over his shoulder.

“Oh, you are the lighthouse-keeper, are you?”

“No, I ain’t; me and Gramper’s fishermen now.”

“Your name is Flucker Johnstone, and your sister’s Christie, I think?” added the youth, enjoying the amusement of the young ladies about him.

“It’s Sammy Bowen, and hern’s Ruth.”

“Have you got a Boaz over there for her?”

“No, we’ve got a devil-fish, a real whacker.”

This unexpected reply produced a roar from the gentlemen, while the boy grinned good-naturedly, though without the least idea what the joke was. Pretty Miss Ellery, who had been told that she had “a rippling laugh,” rippled sweetly as she leaned over the railing to ask, —

“Are those lilies in your pails? I want some if they are for sale.”

“Sister’ll fetch ‘em round when she’s left the lobs. I ain’t got none; this is bait for them fellers.” And, as if reminded of business by the yells of several boys who had just caught sight of him, Sammy abruptly weighed anchor and ran before the wind toward the stable.

“Funny lot, these natives! Act as if they owned the place and are as stupid as their own fish,” said the youth in the white yachting suit, as he flung away his cigarette end.

“Don’t agree with you, Fred. I’ve known people of this sort all my life and a finer set of honest, hardworking, independent men I never met, — brave as lions and tender as women in spite of their rough ways,” answered the other young man, who wore blue flannel and had a gold band on his cap.

“Sailors and soldiers always stand by one another; so of course you see the best side of these fellows, Captain. The girls are fine creatures, I grant you; but their good looks don’t last long, more’s the pity!”

“Few women’s would with the life they lead, so full of hard work, suspense, and sorrow. No one knows till one is tried, how much courage and faith it takes to keep young and happy when the men one loves are on the great sea,” said a quiet, gray-haired lady, as she laid her hand on the knee of the young man in blue with a look that made him smile affectionately at her, with his own brown hand on hers.

“Shouldn’t wonder if Ben Bowen was laid up, since the girl brings the fish. He’s a fine old fellow. I’ve been to No Man’s Land many a time blue-fishing with him; must ask after him,” said an elderly gentleman who was pacing to and fro yearning for the morning papers.

“We might go over to the island and have a chowder-party or a fish-fry some moonlight night. I haven’t been here for several years, but it used to be great fun, and I suppose we can do it now,” suggested Miss Ellery with the laugh.

“By Jove, we will! And look up Christie; ask her when she comes round,” said Mr. Fred, the youthful dude, untwining his languid legs as if the prospect put a little life into him.

“Of course we pay for any trouble we give; these people will do anything for money,” began Miss Ellery; but Captain John, as they called the sailor, held up his hand with a warning, “Hush! she’s coming,” as Ruth’s weather-beaten brown hat turned the corner.

She paused a moment to drop the empty baskets, shake her skirts, and put up a black braid that had fallen down; then, with the air of one resolved to do a distasteful task as quickly as possible, she came up the steps, held out the rough basket cover, and said in a clear voice, —

“Would any of the ladies like some fresh lilies? Ten cents a bunch.”

A murmur from the ladies expressed their admiration of the beautiful flowers, and the gentlemen pressed forward to buy and present every bunch with gallant haste. Ruth’s eyes shone as the money fell into her hand, and several voices begged her to bring more lilies while they lasted.

“I didn’t know the darlings would grow in salt water,” said Miss Ellery, as she fondly gazed upon the cluster Mr. Fred had just offered her.

“They don’t. There’s a little fresh-water pond on our island, and they grow there, — only place for miles round;” and Ruth looked at the delicate girl in ruffled white lawn and a mull hat, with a glance of mingled pity for her ignorance and admiration for her beauty.

“How silly of me! I am such a goose;” and Miss Ellery gurgled as she hid her face behind her red parasol.

“Ask about the fish-fry,” whispered Mr. Fred, putting his head behind the rosy screen to assure the pretty creature that he didn’t know any better himself.

“Oh yes, I will!” and, quite consoled, Miss Ellery called out, “Girl, will you tell me if we can have chowder-parties on your rocks as we used to a few seasons ago?”

“If you bring your own fish. Grandpa is sick and can’t get ‘em for you.”

“We will provide them, but who will cook them for us? It’s such horrid work.”

“Any one can fry fish! I will if you want me to;” and Ruth half smiled, remembering that this girl who shuddered at the idea of pork and a hot frying-pan, used to eat as heartily as any one when the crisp brown cunners were served up.

“Very good; then we’ll engage you as cook, and come over to-night if it’s clear and our fishing prospers. Don’t forget a dozen of the finest lilies for this lady to-morrow morning. Pay you now, may not be up;” and Mr. Fred dropped a bright silver dollar into the basket with a patronizing air, intended to impress this rather too independent young person with a proper sense of inferiority.

Ruth quietly shook the money out upon the door-mat, and said with a sudden sparkle in her black eyes, —

“It’s doubtful if I bring any more. Better wait till I do.”

“I’m sorry your grandfather is sick. I’ll come over and see him by-and-by, and bring the papers if he would like some,” said the elderly gentleman as he came up with a friendly nod and real interest in his face.

“Very much, thank you, sir. He is very feeble now;” and Ruth turned with a bright smile to welcome kind Mr. Wallace, who had not forgotten the old man.

“Christie has got a nice little temper of her own, and don’t know how to treat a fellow when he wants to do her a favor,” growled Mr. Fred, pocketing his dollar with a disgusted air.

“She appears to know how to treat a gentleman when he offers one,” answered Blue Jacket, with a twinkle of the eye as if he enjoyed the other’s discomfiture.

“Girls of that class always put on airs if they are the least bit pretty, — so absurd!” said Miss Ellery, pulling up her long gloves as she glanced at the brown arms of the fisher maiden.

“Girls of any class like to be treated with respect. Modesty in linsey-woolsey is as sweet as in muslin, my dear, and should be even more admired, according to my old-fashioned way of thinking,” said the gray-haired lady.

“Hear! hear!” murmured her sailor nephew with an approving nod.

It was evident that Ruth had heard also, as she turned to go, for with a quick gesture she pulled three great lilies from her hat and laid them on the old lady’s lap, saying with a grateful look, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She had seen Miss Scott hand her bunch to a meek little governess who had been forgotten, and this was all she had to offer in return for the kindness which is so sweet to poor girls whose sensitive pride gets often wounded by trifles like these.

She was going without her baskets when Captain John swung himself over the railing, and ran after her with them. He touched his cap as he met her, and was thanked with as bright a smile as that the elder gentleman had received; for his respectful “Miss Bowen” pleased her much after the rude “Girl!” and the money tossed to her as if she were a beggar. When he came back the mail had arrived, and all scattered at once, — Mr. Fred to spend the dollar in more cigarettes, and Captain John to settle carefully in his button-hole the water-lily Aunt Mary gave him, before both young men went off to play tennis as if their bread depended on it.

As it bid fair to be a moonlight night, the party of a dozen young people, with Miss Scott and Mr. Wallace to act as matron and admiral of the fleet, set off to the Island about sunset. Fish in abundance had been caught, and a picnic supper provided to be eaten on the rocks when the proper time arrived. They found Sammy, in a clean blue shirt and a hat less like a Feejee headpiece, willing to do the honors of the Island, beaming like a freckled young merman as he paddled out to pull up the boats.

“Fire’s all ready for kindlin’, and Ruth’s slicin’ the pertaters. Hope them fish is cleaned?” he added with a face of deep anxiety; for that weary task would fall to him if not already done, and the thought desolated his boyish soul.

“All ready, Sam! Lend a hand with these baskets, and then steer for the lighthouse; the ladies want to see that first,” answered Captain John, as he tossed a stray cookie into Sammy’s mouth with a smile that caused that youth to cleave to him like a burr all the evening.

The young people scattered over the rocks, and hastened to visit the points of interest before dark. They climbed the lighthouse tower, and paid Aunt Nabby and Grandpa a call at the weather-beaten little house, where the old woman lent them a mammoth coffee-pot, and promised that Ruth would “dish up them fish in good shape at eight punctooal.” Then they strolled away to see the fresh-water pond where the lilies grew.

“How curious that such a thing should be here right in the middle of the salt sea!” said one of the girls, as they stood looking at the quiet pool while the tide dashed high upon the rocks all about them.

“Not more curious than how it is possible for anything so beautiful and pure as one of those lilies to grow from the mud at the bottom of the pond. The ugly yellow ones are not so out of place; but no one cares for them, and they smell horridly,” added another girl in a reflective tone.

“Instinct sends the white lily straight up to the sun and air, and the strong slender stem anchors it to the rich earth below, out of which it has power to draw the nourishment that makes it so lovely and keeps it spotless — unless slugs and flies and boys spoil it,” added Miss Scott as she watched Mr. Fred poke and splash with his cane after a half-closed flower.

“The naughty things have all shut up and spoilt the pretty sight; I’m so disappointed,” sighed Miss Ellery, surveying the green buds with great disfavor as she had planned to wear some in her hair and act Undine.