Standish of Standish | Page 6

tears in mine eyes it is no matter of mocking, for
Mistress Priscilla was telling me that her mother is sick as she fears
unto death, and"--
"John Howland, the boat is coming off with the rest of our company
and noon-meat for us all. Wilt thou and John Alden receive and help
them ashore, while Gilbert helps us to make ready here?"

"Surely we will, Mistress Carver," replied Howland heartily, for his
relationship toward the governor and his beautiful wife was rather that
of a younger brother than of a retainer; and although the smallness of
his fortune had induced him to accept the patronage of the older and
wealthier man, it was much as a lad of noble lineage was content a few
years before this to become first the page and then the squire of a belted
knight.
The boat, unable to reach the shore on account of the flatness of the
beach, stuck fast about a bow-shot from dry land, and the men and boys
at once tumbled over the edge and prepared to carry not only the
luggage, but the female passengers ashore. Alden seeing this prospect,
tore off his boots and stockings, and plunging into the chill water
hastened to the stern of the boat where a slender, vivacious girl, brown,
dark-eyed, and with cheeks glowing with the dusky richness of a peach,
stood balancing herself like a bird and giving orders to a young man
already in the water.
"Now have a care, Robert Cartier, of that kettle. If thou spillst the
soup"--
"The onion soup, Mistress Priscilla?" asked Alden approaching
unperceived. Priscilla cast a look at him from the corners of her long
eyes, and replied carelessly,--
"Yes, Master Alden, an onion soup. Is that a favorite dish with your
worship?"
"Why, thou knowest,"--began the young man with an air of
bewilderment, but Priscilla interrupted him.
"Since thou art here with thy broad shoulders, John Alden, thou wilt do
well to make them of use. There is Mistress Allerton struggling with a
hamper beyond her strength, and there are bales of clothes that must not
be wet. Load thyself, good mule, and plod shoreward."
"To be sure I will and gladly, fair mistress," replied Alden patiently.
"But first let me take thee ashore dry-shod, and then I will bring all the

rest."
"Beshrew thee for a modest youth," retorted Priscilla, the peach color
of her cheeks deepening to pomegranate; "when I go ashore I will
convey myself, or my brother will carry me; and thou, since thou art so
picksome, may set thyself to work, and ask naught of me."
"But why art thou so tart when I meant naught," began Alden,
bewildered; but again the girl cut him short with a stinging little laugh.
"Thou never meanest aught, poor John; but I have no time to waste
with thee. Here, Robert, these come next, and take Mistress Allerton's
hamper as well."
"Nay, that is for me," growled Alden, seizing the basket from the hands
of the astonished servant who relinquished it with a stare and a
muttered exclamation in French; for William Molines, called Mullins
by the Pilgrims, his wife, son, daughter, and servant were all of the
French Huguenots, who fleeing from their native land planted a colony
upon the river Waal in Holland, and were at this time known as
Walloons. Learning enough of Dutch to carry on the business of daily
life, and of English to communicate with their co-religionists of the
Pilgrim church in Leyden, they retained French as the dear home
language of their birth, and the young people, like Priscilla and her
brother Joseph, used the three languages with equal facility.
A little offended and a good deal puzzled by the change in Priscilla's
manner since their last interview, Alden devoted himself to unloading
the boat without again addressing her, until he saw her confide herself
to the arms of her brother to be taken ashore; then seizing an armful of
parcels, he strode along close behind the slender stripling whose thews
and sinews were obviously unequal to his courage, and who floundered
painfully over the uneven sands. At last he stumbled, recovered himself,
plunged wildly forward, and fell flat upon his face, while his sister,
suddenly seized and held aloft in two strong arms, did not so much as
wet the hem of her garment, until with a few swift strides her rescuer
set her on dry land and turned to help the boy who came floundering
after them with a rueful and angry countenance.

"'T was all thy fault, Priscilla," began he. "Twisting and squirming to
see who was coming after us."
"Nay, 't was the fault of some great monster who came trampling on
our heels, and making the water wash round my feet. Some