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diff --git a/31507-h/31507-h.htm b/31507-h/31507-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b08f852 --- /dev/null +++ b/31507-h/31507-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8163 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Peggy Raymond's Vacation, by Harriet L. (Harriet Lummis) Smith</title> +<style type="text/css"> +body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} +p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} +.pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} +.pncolor {color:silver;} +h1,h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} +h1 {font-size:1.6em; margin-top:4ex; margin-bottom:2ex;} +h1.pg {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; font-size:190%; margin-top:0ex; margin-bottom:0ex;} +h2 {font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4ex; margin-bottom:2ex;} +a {text-decoration:none;} +div.toc a {text-decoration:underline;} +div.loi a {text-decoration:underline;} +hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver;} +.cvi {margin:10px auto;text-align:center;} +.c {text-align:center;} +p.hls {text-indent:-2em; margin-left: 6em;} +.i {font-style:italic;} +.fs12 {font-size:1.2em;} +.mb10 {margin-bottom:10px;} +div.titlepage {} +div.titlepage p {text-align:center;} +.fs16 {font-size:1.6em;} +.mb20 {margin-bottom:20px;} +.fs13 {font-size:1.3em;} +.mb30 {margin-bottom:30px;} +.fs14 {font-size:1.4em;} +.sc {font-variant:small-caps;} +.fs08 {font-size:0.8em;} +.tpi {margin:25px auto;text-align:center;} +.fs09 {font-size:0.9em;} +hr.hr10 {border:none;border-bottom:1px solid black; width:10%; text-align: center;} +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; clear:both;} +td.tcol1 {text-align:right; padding-right:1ex; vertical-align:top;} +td.tcol2 {text-align:left; padding-right:2ex; vertical-align:top;} +td.tcol3 {text-align:right; vertical-align:bottom;} +td.center {text-align:center;} +td.fs12 {font-size:1.2em;} +td.fs08 {font-size:0.8em;} +td.tar {text-align:right;} +td.sc {font-variant:small-caps} +.fs18 {font-size:1.8em;} +span.h2fs {font-size:smaller;} +div.poetry {text-indent:0em; margin-left:2em; margin-bottom:4px; margin-top:4px;} +div.bquote {font-size:1.0em; margin:5px 5%;} +div.bquote p {text-indent:0em; margin-bottom:4px; margin-top:4px;} +p.tar {text-align:right;} +.b {font-weight:bold;} +p.p322 {margin-left:3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.fs22 {font-size:2.2em;} +hr.hr60 {border:none;border-bottom:1px solid black; width:60%; text-align: center;} +.ml30 {margin-left:30px;} +.fs11 {font-size:1.1em;} +.mt00 {margin-top:00px;} +hr.hr20 {border:none;border-bottom:1px solid black; width:20%; text-align: center;} +.fs21 {font-size:2.1em;} + + .centerpg {text-align: center; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Peggy Raymond's Vacation, by Harriet L. +(Harriet Lummis) Smith</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Peggy Raymond's Vacation</p> +<p> or Friendly Terrace Transplanted</p> +<p>Author: Harriet L. (Harriet Lummis) Smith</p> +<p>Release Date: March 4, 2010 [eBook #31507]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PEGGY RAYMOND'S VACATION***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="centerpg">E-text prepared by Roger Frank, Juliet Sutherland,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class='cvi'> +<img alt='cover' src='images/cover.jpg' /> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<h1>Peggy Raymond’s Vacation</h1> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c i'>Stories by</p> + +<p class='c fs12 mb10'>HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH</p> + +<table summary='booklist' style='margin:auto;'> +<tr><td>Pollyanna of the Orange Blossoms<br />(<i>Trade Mark</i>)</td><td align='right'>$2.00</td></tr> +<tr><td>Pollyanna’s Jewels<br />(<i>Trade Mark</i>)</td><td align='right'>$2.00</td></tr> +<tr><td>Pollyanna’s Debt of Honor<br />(<i>Trade Mark</i>)</td><td align='right'>$2.00</td></tr> +<tr><td>The Uncertain Glory</td><td align='right'>$2.00</td></tr> +<tr><td>Pat and Pal</td><td align='right'>$2.00</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='2'> </td></tr> +<tr><td>The Peggy Raymond Series, each</td><td><i>$1.75</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><p class='hls'>Peggy Raymond’s Success<br /> +<i>or The Girls of Friendly Terrace.</i></p> + +<p class='hls'>Peggy Raymond’s Vacation<br /> +<i>or Friendly Terrace Transplanted.</i></p> + +<p class='hls'>Peggy Raymond’s School Days<br /> +<i>or Old Girls and New.</i></p> + +<p class='hls'>Peggy Raymond’s Friendly Terrace Quartette.</p> + +<p class='hls'>Peggy Raymond’s Way<br /> +<i>or Blossom Time at Friendly Terrace.</i></p></td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan='2' align='center'><i>In Preparation</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td>Pollyanna’s Western Adventure<br />(<i>Trade Mark</i>)</td><td align='right'>$2.00</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<div class='titlepage'> +<p class='fs16 mb20'>PEGGY RAYMOND’S<br />VACATION</p> + +<p class='fs13 mb30'>Or Friendly Terrace Transplanted</p> + +<p class='fs14 mb 10'><span class='sc'>By</span> HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH</p> + +<p class='sc'>Author of</p> + +<p class='fs08'>“Peggy Raymond’s Success,” “Peggy +Raymond’s<br /> +Schooldays,” “Peggy Raymond at ‘The Poplars,’”<br /> +“Peggy Raymond’s Way.”</p> + +<div class='tpi'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.png' /> +</div> + +<p class='fs12'>A. L. BURT COMPANY</p> + +<p>Publishers               New +York</p> + +<p class='fs08'>Published by arrangement with L. C. Page & Company.</p> + +<p class='fs09'>Printed in U. S. A.</p> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c'><i>Copyright, 1913</i><br /> +<span class='sc'>By The Page Company</span></p> +<hr class='hr10' /> +<p class='c'><i>All rights reserved</i></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='TOC'> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'>CONTENTS</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan='3' class='center fs12'></td></tr> +<tr><td class='fs08'>CHAPTER</td><td colspan='2' class='tar fs08'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>I.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>The Exodus</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_1'>1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>II.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>A Cottage Re-Christened</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_2'>18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>III.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Getting Acquainted</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_3'>33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>IV.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>A Study in Natural History</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_4'>51</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>V.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>A Safe and Sane Fourth</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_5'>69</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VI.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>The Picnic</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_6'>90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VII.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>The Cottage Besieged</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_7'>107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VIII.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Hobo to the Rescue</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_8'>125</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>IX.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Ruth in the Rôle of Heroine</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_9'>143</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>X.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Mrs. Snooks’ Education</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_10'>161</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XI.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Dorothy Gets Into Mischief</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_11'>175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XII.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>The New Lucy</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_12'>190</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XIII.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>A Benefit Performance</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_13'>205</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XIV.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Aunt Abigail Is Mislaid</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_14'>218</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XV.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Priscilla’s Looking-Glass</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_15'>233</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XVI.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Peggy Makes a Speech</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_16'>247</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XVII.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>A Plain Talk</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_17'>262</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XVIII.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>The Castaways</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_18'>275</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XIX.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>The Rescue</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_19'>292</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XX.</td><td class='tcol2 sc'>Home Sweet Home</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_20'>307</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs18'>Peggy Raymond’s Vacation</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1'></a>1</span><a id='link_1'></a>CHAPTER I<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE EXODUS</span></h2> + +<p>“Do you know, Peggy Raymond, that you haven’t made a remark for +three-quarters of an hour, unless somebody asked you a question?–and, even +then, your answers didn’t fit.”</p> + +<p>It was mid-June, and as happens not unfrequently in the month acknowledging +allegiance to both seasons, spring had plunged headlong into summer, with no +preparatory gradations from breezy coolness to sultry days and oppressive +nights. Friendly Terrace wore an air of relaxation. School was over till +September, and now that the bugbear of final examinations was disposed of, no +one seemed possessed of sufficient energy to attempt anything more strenuous +than wielding a palm-leaf fan.</p> + +<p>On Amy Lassell’s front porch a quartet of wilted <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_2'></a>2</span> girls lounged about in attitudes expressive +of indolent ease. Tall Priscilla occupied the hammock, and Ruth was ensconced in +a willow rocking-chair, with a hassock at her feet. Peggy had made herself +comfortable on the top step, with sofa cushions tucked skilfully at the small of +her back, and behind her head. Amy herself sat cross-legged like a Turk on the +porch floor and fanned vigorously to supplement the efforts of the lazy +breeze.</p> + +<p>Peggy, pondering her friend’s accusation with languid interest, dimpled +into a smile which acknowledged its correctness. “Yes, you’re right, +Amy,” she admitted. “And, if you want to know the reason, it’s +only that my thoughts were wandering. The fact is, girls, I’m just +hankering for the country.”</p> + +<p>“Then what’s the matter–”</p> + +<p>The suggestion on the tip of Amy’s tongue never got any farther, for +Peggy, seemingly certain that it would prove inadequate, shook her head with a +vigor hardly to be expected from her general air of lassitude.</p> + +<p>“No, Amy! I don’t mean going to the park, or taking a trolley +ride out to one of the suburbs. What I want is the sure-enough country, without +any sidewalks, you know, and with roads that wind, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_3'></a>3</span> and old hens clucking around, and cow-bells +tinkling off in the pastures, and oceans of room–”</p> + +<p>“And sunsets where the sun goes down behind green trees, instead of +peoples’ houses,” Ruth interrupted dreamily. “And birds +singing like mad to wake you up in the morning.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and berries growing alongside the road, where you can help +yourself,” broke in Amy with animation. “And apples and nuts lying +around under the trees, and green corn that melts in your mouth, +and–”</p> + +<p>“Not all at the same time, though.” The correction came from +Priscilla’s hammock. “You wouldn’t find many nuts dropping +from the trees at this time of the year.”</p> + +<p>Before Amy could reply, the conversation was interrupted by the appearance of +the most universally popular visitor ever gracing Friendly Terrace by his +presence. He came often, without any danger of wearing out his welcome. Every +household watched for his arrival, and felt injured if he passed without +stopping. On Amy’s porch four necks craned, the better to view his +advance, and four pairs of eyes were expectant.</p> + +<p>“If there’s anything for me,” observed Peggy hopefully, +“mother’ll wave, I know.” But Mrs. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span> Raymond, who sat sewing on her own porch, +opened the solitary letter the postman handed her, and proceeded to acquaint +herself with its contents in full view of the watchers on the other side of the +street.</p> + +<p>“This must be Mother’s Day,” Amy exclaimed disapprovingly, +when, a moment later, she accepted from the letter-carrier’s hand a fat +blue envelope directed to Mrs. Gibson Lassell. But, in spite of her rather +resentful tone, she scrambled to her feet, and carried the letter through to the +shaded back room where her mother lay on the couch, with a glass of ice-tea +beside her, devoting herself to the business of keeping cool.</p> + +<p>Some time passed before Amy’s return. Priscilla’s hammock barely +stirred and the rhythmic creak of Ruth’s rocking-chair grew gradually less +frequent. Peggy, cuddling down among the cushions, let her thoughts stray again +to the joys of being without sidewalks, and all that was implied in such a lack. +The porch with the silent trio would not have seemed out of place in that +enchanted country where the sleeping princess and her subjects dreamed away a +hundred years.</p> + +<p>All at once there was a rush, a slam, a series of little rapturous squeals. +The Amy who had carried <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_5'></a>5</span> the blue envelope indoors, had been mysteriously +replaced by a young person so bubbling over with animation as to be unable, +apparently, to express herself, except by ecstatic gurgles and a mad capering +about the porch.</p> + +<p>Had a crisp October breeze all at once dissipated the languors of the June +day, the effect on the occupants of the porch could hardly have been more +immediate. Priscilla came out of the hammock with a bound. Peggy’s +cushions rolled to the bottom of the steps, as Peggy leaped to her feet. And so +precipitately did Ruth arise, that her rocking-chair went over backward, and +narrowly escaped breaking a front window.</p> + +<p>“Amy Lassell!” Peggy seized her friend by the shoulders and gave +her a vigorous shake. “Stop acting this crazy way, and tell us +what’s happened.”</p> + +<p>“Talk of fairy godmothers!” gasped Amy, coherent at last. +“Talk of dreams coming true! Oh, girls!”</p> + +<p>“What is it?” Three exasperated voices screamed the question, and +even Amy began to realize that her explanation had lacked lucidity. She tried +again.</p> + +<p>“That letter, you know. It’s the strangest coincidence <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6'></a>6</span> I ever heard of. But +haven’t you noticed lots of times–”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Amy,” Ruth implored, “do let that part wait, and get +to the point.”</p> + +<p>“Why, this is the point. That letter was from an old friend of +mother’s, Mrs. Leighton. She has a home up in the country, Sweet Fern +Cottage I think they call it, or is it Sweet Briar–”</p> + +<p>“Sweet chocolate, perhaps,” suggested Priscilla with gentle +sarcasm. “One will do as well as another. Go on.”</p> + +<p>“It’s the real country, Peggy, for you have to take a four-mile +stage ride to get to the railway station. And Mrs. Leighton wanted to know if +some of us wouldn’t like to use the cottage, as she is going to Europe +this summer. And, right away, mother said it would be so nice for us girls to +have it.”</p> + +<p>The clamor that broke out made further explanations impossible. It was +Amy’s turn to be superior.</p> + +<p>“Girls, if you all keep talking at once, how can I ever tell you the +rest? The cottage is all furnished, Mrs. Leighton says, and we would only have +to bring bedding and towels, and things of that sort. And she says you can buy +milk and vegetables <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span> +very reasonably of the farmers in the neighborhood, so it wouldn’t be +expensive when we divided it up among us.”</p> + +<p>“We could do the cooking ourselves,” interrupted Peggy.</p> + +<p>“Of course. Mrs. Leighton takes up her own servants, but if we found +somebody to do our washing, and scrub us up occasionally, we could manage the +rest.”</p> + +<p>For half an hour the excited planning went on, and then four enthusiastic +girls separated to subject the enterprise to the more cautious consideration of +fathers and mothers. And that was the end of listlessness on Friendly Terrace +for that hot wave, at least. At almost any hour of day, one might see a girl +running across the street, or bursting into another girl’s house without +warning, in order to set forth some new and brilliant idea which had just popped +into her head, or to ask advice on some perplexing point, or to answer the +objections somebody had raised. Though only four families on the Terrace were +personally interested in the solution of the problem, the whole neighborhood +took it up. It was generally agreed that the girls had worked hard in school, +and were tired, and a summer in what Peggy called “the sure-enough +country” <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span> would +be the best thing in the world for them all.</p> + +<p>Elaine Marshall, whom Peggy waylaid as she came home from her work, not long +after the plan had been broached, gave it her immediate approval, pluckily +trying to hide her consternation at the thought of Friendly Terrace without +Peggy. But, in spite of her brave fluency, something in her eyes betrayed her, +as she knew when Peggy slipped an arm about her waist and hugged her +remorsefully.</p> + +<p>“Now, Peggy Raymond, don’t go to being sorry for me, and spoiling +your fun. You mustn’t fancy you’re so indispensable,” she +ended with a feeble laugh.</p> + +<p>“If only you had two months’ vacation, instead of two +weeks,” mourned Peggy.</p> + +<p>“I’m lucky to get two weeks, when I’ve been in your +uncle’s office such a little while. And, anyway, Peggy, I couldn’t +leave home for long as things are, even if my vacation lasted all +summer.”</p> + +<p>And it really was Elaine Marshall, speaking in that cheery, matter-of-fact +tone, scorning the luxury of self-pity, conquering the temptation to look on +herself as an object of sympathy. Peggy regarded her with affectionate +admiration, quite unaware how important a factor she herself had been in <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span> bringing about a +transformation almost beyond belief.</p> + +<p>After twenty-four hours of reflection Friendly Terrace was practically a unit +on the question. The fathers saw no reason why the girls should not go, and the +mothers found a variety of reasons why they should. The question of a chaperon +had been a temporary stumbling-block, for none of the mothers especially +concerned had felt that she could be spared from home. But before the difficulty +had begun to seem serious, Amy had exclaimed: “I believe Aunt Abigail +would jump at the chance.”</p> + +<p>“Aunt Abigail!” Priscilla repeated, with a thoughtful frown. +“I don’t remember ever hearing you speak of her.”</p> + +<p>“She’s father’s aunt, you know, but I always call her Aunt +Abigail.”</p> + +<p>There was a pause. “Then she must be a good deal like a +grandmother,” Ruth hinted delicately.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes. Aunt Abigail is seventy-five or six, I don’t remember +which.”</p> + +<p>Priscilla and Ruth looked at Peggy, their manner implying that the crisis +demanded the exercise of her undeniable tact. Peggy made a brave effort to be +equal to the emergency.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think, Amy, dear,” she hazarded, <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> “that it would be a +little trying to the nerves of an old lady to chaperon a lot of noisy +girls–”</p> + +<p>Amy’s burst of laughter was such an unexpected interruption that +Peggy’s considerate appeal halted midway and the other girls stared. And +Amy screwing her eyes tightly shut, as was her habit when highly amused, +finished her laugh at her leisure, before she deigned an explanation.</p> + +<p>“You’d know how funny that sounded if you’d ever seen Aunt +Abigail. She’s along in her seventies, so I suppose you would call her +old, but in a good many ways she’s as young as we are–Oh, yes, +younger, as young as Peggy’s Dorothy.”</p> + +<p>There was something fascinating in the idea of a chaperon, characterized by +such singular extremes. The girls listened breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“Mother says it’s all because she’s lived in such an +unusual way. You see, her husband was an artist, and they used to travel around +everywhere. Sometimes they’d board at a hotel, and sometimes they’d +have rooms, and do light housekeeping, and, then again, they’d camp, and +live in a tent for months at a time. And Aunt Abigail hasn’t any idea of +getting up to breakfast at any special hour, or being on hand to +dinner.”</p> + +<p>The expression of anxious interest was fading <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span> gradually from the faces of the three +listeners, and cheerful anticipation was taking its place.</p> + +<p>“She forgets everything she promises to do,” Amy continued. +“It isn’t because she’s old, either. She’s been that way +ever since mother can remember. She’s always losing things, and getting +into the most awful scrapes. We should have to look after her, just as if she +were a child. And then she’s the jolliest soul you ever knew, and +she’s a regular Arabian Nights’ entertainment when it comes to +telling stories.”</p> + +<p>After the vision of a nervous old lady who would demand that the house be +very quiet, and get into a nervous flutter if a meal were delayed fifteen +minutes, Amy’s realistic sketch was immensely appealing. +“Girls,” Peggy exclaimed, “I move we invite Aunt Abigail to +chaperon our crowd!” And the motion was carried not only unanimously, but +with an enthusiasm Aunt Abigail would certainly have found gratifying, though it +might have surprised her, in view of her grand-niece’s candid +statement.</p> + +<p>Peggy had pleaded to be allowed to take Dorothy along. “I can’t +bear to think of that darling child spending July and August in a fourth-floor +flat, looking down on the tops of street-cars. And I don’t think +she’d bother you girls a bit.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_12'></a>12</span>“Bother!” cried Amy generously. “We +need something to fall back on for rainy days, and Dorothy’s a picnic in +herself. Between her and Aunt Abigail we’ll be entertained whatever +happens.”</p> + +<p>Priscilla, too, had suggested an addition to the party. “You’ve +heard me speak of Claire Fendall, girls. I saw a good deal of her at the +conservatory, and she’s as sweet as she can be. Well, we’ve talked +of her visiting me this vacation, and I don’t feel quite like announcing +that I’m going off for the entire summer without asking her if she’d +like to go too.”</p> + +<p>The girls had fallen in with the suggestion with the thoughtless cordiality +characteristic of their years. It was Amy who suggested later to Peggy that +sometimes she thought there was such a thing as a girl’s being <i>too</i> +sweet. “I met Claire Fendall once when I went with Priscilla to a +recital,” Amy remarked. “And–Oh, well, I’m not one of +the people who like honey for breakfast every morning of the year.” But +the only reply this Delphic utterance called forth from Peggy was a reproachful +pinch.</p> + +<p>In a week’s time they were ready. A special delivery letter had carried +to Mrs. Leighton the grateful acceptance of her offer, and the keys had <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> come by express the +following day, rattling about in a tin box, and with the tantalizing air of +secrecy and suggestiveness which always attaches itself to a bunch of keys. Aunt +Abigail had been invited to chaperon the party and had accepted by telegraph. +Peggy’s father had made an excuse for a business trip to New York, and had +brought his small granddaughter home with him, full of the liveliest +anticipation regarding her summer. And Priscilla had received a twenty-page +letter from Claire Fendall, declaring that it would be perfectly heavenly to +spend two months anywhere in Priscilla’s society, and that nothing in the +world could possibly prevent her from coming.</p> + +<p>There had been no time during that week for lounging on porches, or swinging +in hammocks. Afternoon naps were sternly eliminated from the daily program, and +the day began early enough to satisfy the originator of the maxim which gives us +to understand that early rising is synonymous with health, wealth and wisdom. +Trunks were packed, amid prolonged discussion as to what to take and what to +leave behind. The mothers, as is the way of mothers the world over, insisted on +warm flannels, and wraps, rubbers and rain-coats, to provide for all extremes of +weather. Peggy’s suggestion <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_14'></a>14</span> that the country was a fine place for wearing out old +clothes, had been received with enthusiasm, and faded ginghams and lawns of a +bygone style, far outnumbered the new frocks with which the Terrace girls had +made ready for the season.</p> + +<p>The June day appointed for the departure dawned with such radiant brightness +that all along the Terrace it was accepted as a good omen. Early and hurried +breakfasts were in order in a number of homes. Dorothy viewing her oatmeal with +an air of disfavor, launched into the discussion of a subject which had occupied +her thoughts for some time.</p> + +<p>“Aunt Peggy, if I should see a bear up in the country, do you s’pose +I’d be ’fraid? I’d jus’ say to him, ‘Scat, you old +bear!’”</p> + +<p>“Eat your oatmeal, Dorothy.” Peggy’s voice betrayed that +her excitement was almost equal to Dorothy’s own. “There +aren’t any bears where we’re going.”</p> + +<p>“Ain’t there?” Dorothy’s tone indicated regretful +surprise. “I guess God jus’ forgot to make ’em,” she +sighed, and fell to watching her grandmother’s efforts to make the oatmeal +more tempting, by adding another sprinkling of sugar to a dish already +honey-sweet.</p> + +<p>But even such a disappointment as this could not <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> continue in the face of the thrilling +nearness of departure. The trunks had gone to the station the night before, and +now upon the porches of the various houses, suitcases, travelling bags, and +nondescript rolls of shawls and steamer rugs began to make their appearance. +Conversations were carried on across the street in a fashion that might have +been annoying if everybody along the Terrace had not been astir to see the girls +off. Elaine Marshall already dressed for the office, slipped through the opening +in the hedge which separated her home from Peggy’s, and took possession of +a shawl-strap and umbrella.</p> + +<p>“Of course I’m going to the station with you,” she said, +replying to Peggy’s look. “There’ll be room enough, +won’t there, if Dorothy sits in my lap?”</p> + +<p>“I guess you’d better hold Aunt Peggy ’stead of me,” +Dorothy objected promptly, “’cause I’m going to have a birf-day +pretty soon, and I’m getting to be a big girl.” And then she forgot +her offended dignity, for the hacks were in sight.</p> + +<p>It was well that these conveyances had arrived early, for the process of +saying good-by was not a rapid one. There were so many kisses to be exchanged, +so many last cautions to be given, so <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_16'></a>16</span> many promises to write often to be +repeated,–reckless promises which if literally fulfilled would have +required the services of an extra mail-carrier for Friendly Terrace–so +many anxious inquiries as to the whereabouts of somebody’s suitcase or box +of luncheon, to say nothing of Amy’s discovery at the last minute that she +had left her railway ticket in the drawer of her writing desk, that for a time +the outlook for ever getting started was gloomy indeed. But at last they were +safely stowed away, and while the girls threw kisses in the direction of upper +windows, where dishevelled heads were appearing, and little groups on doorsteps +and porches waved handkerchiefs, and “Good-by” sounded on one side +of the street and then on the other, like an echo gone distraught, the foremost +driver cracked his whip and they were off.</p> + +<p>“My gracious me,” a pleasantly garrulous old lady said to Mrs. +Raymond half an hour later, “ain’t it going to be lonesome without +that bunch of girls. It’s the first time I ever knew Friendly Terrace to +seem deserted.”</p> + +<p>“It will seem a little lonely, I imagine,” Mrs. Raymond answered +cheerily, and then she went indoors and found a dark corner where she could wipe +her eyes unseen. But when Dick came around <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_17'></a>17</span> to express his opinion as to the team that would win +the pennant that season, she was able to give him as interested attention as if +two long months were not to elapse before she saw Peggy again.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span><a id='link_2'></a>CHAPTER II<br /><span class='h2fs'>A COTTAGE RE-CHRISTENED</span></h2> + +<p>The stage creaked up the slope. The four horses, sedate enough during the +long drive, wound up with a flourish, the off-leader prancing, and all four +making that final exhibition of untamed spirit, which is the +stage-driver’s secret. And from the body of the vehicle arose a chorus of +voices.</p> + +<p>“Is this it? Oh, girls, this can’t really be it!”</p> + +<p>The stage-driver took it on himself to answer the question.</p> + +<p>“You asked for Leighton’s place, and this here’s it. Now, +if you want suthin’ else, all you’ve got to do is to say so.” +He folded his arms with the air of being only too well accustomed to the +vagaries of city people, an implication which his passengers were too elated to +notice. They scrambled out, not waiting for his assistance, Peggy first, +extending a hand to Aunt Abigail, who waved it briskly aside, and jumped off the +steps like a girl. Her bright dark eyes–she never used spectacles except +for reading–twinkled gaily. And her <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_19'></a>19</span> cheeks crisscrossed with innumerable fine wrinkles, +were as rosy as winter apples.</p> + +<p>Dorothy followed Aunt Abigail, flinging herself headlong into Peggy’s +extended arms, and then wriggling free to satisfy herself as to what the country +was like, as well as to scan the landscape for a possible bear. The others +crowded after, and the stage-driver relenting, began to throw off the +trunks.</p> + +<p>The Leighton cottage was a rambling structure, suggesting a series of +architectural after-thoughts. Its location could hardly have been surpassed, for +it stood on a rise of ground so that in any direction one looked across fertile +valleys to encircling hills. A porch ran about three sides of the house, shaded +here and there by vines. In spite of a certain look of neglect, emphasized by +the straggling branches of the untrimmed vines, and the cobwebs everywhere +visible, its appearance was distinctly prepossessing.</p> + +<p>“Going to get these doors open any time to-day?” asked the +stage-driver, apparently struggling for resignation.</p> + +<p>“The keys, Aunt Abigail!” Amy cried.</p> + +<p>“Bless you, child, I haven’t any keys!” the old lady +answered. Then, with no apparent loss of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_20'></a>20</span> serenity, “Oh, yes, I do remember that you +handed them to me. But I haven’t an idea where they are now.”</p> + +<p>The girls looked reproachfully at Amy. After having set forth the +peculiarities of her relative in such detail, she should have known better than +to have entrusted her with anything as important as keys. But clearly it was no +time for recrimination, and after a moment all of them were following +Peggy’s example, and hastily examining the various articles of hand +luggage which contained Aunt Abigail’s belongings. Owing to the old +lady’s habitual forgetfulness these were numerous, for the articles which +had been left out when her trunk was packed had made the journey in shawlstraps +and large pasteboard boxes. Just as every one had become thoroughly convinced +that the keys had been left behind in Friendly Terrace, Dorothy made a +discovery.</p> + +<p>“I hear bells,” she announced dreamily, “little tinkly +bells like fairies.”</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail jumped, and this time everybody’s ears were sharp enough +to hear the fairy-like chime.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” cried Aunt Abigail beaming. “They’re in +the pocket. I told my dressmaker that if I was the only woman in the United +States to <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span> boast a +pocket, I wouldn’t be satisfied without one. I will say for her though, +that she located it in the most inaccessible place she could possibly have +chosen. Girls, come and help me find it.”</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail stood resignedly, while a group of girls made a rush, like +hounds attacking a stag. The pocket was located without much difficulty, though +some valuable time was expended in finding the opening. At last the keys were +produced in triumph, the front door was unlocked, and the stage-driver grunting +disdainfully, carried in the trunks.</p> + +<p>Indoors the cottage lived up to the promise of its exterior. The front door +opened into a big living-room furnished comfortably, though simply, and with a +large brick fireplace at one end. Beyond this were the dining-room and kitchen, +with store-room and pantry, and a long woodshed running off to one side. The +second floor consisted of a number of small bedrooms, each with just enough in +the way of furnishings to provide for the comfort of the occupants, without +adding to housekeeping cares. From this story a staircase of ladder-like +steepness, led up to an unfinished garret, empty, except for a few pieces of +dilapidated furniture and sundry piles of magazines and paper-covered books, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> which had +undoubtedly contributed to the entertainment of the cottagers in past +seasons.</p> + +<p>Thanks to an early start, it was little past noon when the arrivals from +Friendly Terrace took possession. Luncheon was first in order. The dust of the +winter having been removed from the dining-table, various alluring pasteboard +boxes were placed upon it, and seven hungry people ranged themselves in +expectant rows. The piles of sandwiches melted away as if by magic, and as they +disappeared, the rooms silent for so long, echoed to the whole-hearted laughter +which is the best of all aids to digestion.</p> + +<p>The meal over, the trunks were ransacked for old dresses, gingham aprons, and +sweeping caps, and under Peggy’s leadership, the girls fell to work.</p> + +<p>“Now we’ll divide up, so as not to get in each other’s way. +Priscilla, suppose you and Claire take the up-stairs rooms. Ruth and I will +start here in the living-room, and Amy–where is Amy, anyway?”</p> + +<p>Amy’s sudden appearance in the doorway was the signal for a general +shriek of protest. The evening before, her father had presented her with a +kodak, which she now pointed toward the group of girls in their +house-maid’s uniforms, with the air <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_23'></a>23</span> of a hold-up man, demanding one’s money or +one’s life.</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t please,” cried Claire, cowering and hiding her +face. She wore her gingham apron with an unaccustomed air, and had looked +askance at the sweeping cap, before she had followed the example of the other +girls, and pulled it over her soft, brown hair. “Please don’t take +my picture,” she implored in a doleful whimper. “I look like such a +fright.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, do stand in a row with your brooms and mops over your +shoulders,” pleaded Amy. “You look perfectly dear–and so +picturesque.”</p> + +<p>Peggy perceived that Claire’s consternation was real, and sternly +checked her friend. “Amy Lassell, put that camera away, and get to work. +It will be time enough to take pictures when this house is fit to sleep +in.”</p> + +<p>By four o’clock at least a superficial order had been secured. The +fresh breezes blowing from the windows on all sides, had aided the efforts of +the girl housekeepers in banishing dust and mustiness, and they were ready to +wait another day for the luxury of clean windows. By this time, too, most of the +girls were frankly sleepy, for the prospect of an early start had interfered +seriously with the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +night’s rest of some of them, and the freshly aired, newly made beds +presented an irresistible temptation.</p> + +<p>The indefatigable Peggy however, emerging from the wash-bowl as glowing as a +rose, scorned the suggestion of a nap. “Couldn’t think of wasting +this gorgeous afternoon that way. I’m going over to the farmhouse Mrs. +Leighton spoke of, and make arrangements about eggs, butter, milk, and all that +sort of thing.”</p> + +<p>“And fresh vegetables too,” exclaimed Amy with surprising +animation, considering that she was in the middle of a tremendous yawn.</p> + +<p>“Yes, of course. And girls, if the farmer’s wife will make our +bread, I think it will be lots more sensible to buy it of her, than to bother +with baking.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you fix things up just as you think best,” exclaimed +Priscilla. “The rest of us will stand by whatever you agree to.” A +drowsy murmur of corroboration went the rounds, and Peggy, making open mock of +them all for a company of “sleepy-heads,” went blithely on her way +toward the particular column of smoke which she felt sure was issuing from the +chimney of the Cole farmhouse.</p> + +<p>A very comfortable, pleasant farmhouse it was, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span> though quite eclipsed by the big red barn +which loomed up in the background. Something in the appearance of the front door +suggested to Peggy that it was not intended for daily use, and she made her way +around to the side and knocked. A child not far from Dorothy’s age, with +straight black hair, and elfish eyes, opened the door, looked her over, and +shrieked a staccato summons.</p> + +<p>“Ro-set-ta! Ro-set-ta Muriel!”</p> + +<p>“Well, what do you want?” demanded a rather querulous voice, and +at the end of the hall appeared the figure of a slender girl, her abundant +yellow hair brought down over her forehead to the eyebrows, and tied in place by +a blue ribbon looped up at one side in a flaunting bow. Her frock of cheap blue +silk was made in the extreme of the mode, and as she rustled forward, Peggy +found herself thinking that she was as unlike as possible to her preconceived +ideas of a farmer’s daughter. As for Rosetta Muriel, she looked Peggy over +with the unspoken thought, “Well, I’d like to know if she calls them +city styles.”</p> + +<p>Peggy, in a two-year-old gingham, quite unaware that her appearance was +disappointing, cheerfully explained her errand and was invited to walk in. Mrs. +Cole, a stout, motherly woman, readily agreed <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_26'></a>26</span> to supply the party at the cottage with the necessary +provisions, including bread, twice a week. And having dispatched the business +which concerned the crowd, Peggy broached a little private enterprise of her +own.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Cole, I thought I’d like to try my luck at raising some +chickens this summer. Just in a very small way, of course,” she added, +reading doubt in the eyes of the farmer’s wife. “If you’ll +sell me an old hen and a setting of eggs, that will be enough for the first +season.”</p> + +<p>“’Tisn’t an extry good time, you know,” said Mrs. Cole. +“Pretty near July. But, if you’d like to try it, I daresay +we’ve got some hens that want to set.”</p> + +<p>“The old yellow hen’s a-settin’,” exclaimed the +little girl who had listened with greedy interest to every word of the +conversation. Rosetta Muriel looked wearily out of the window, as if she found +herself bored by the choice of topics.</p> + +<p>“Yes, seems to me I did hear your pa say something about the old yellow +wanting to set, and him trying to break it up.”</p> + +<p>“He drove her out of the woodshed three times yesterday,” said +the little girl. “And Joe tried to throw water on her, but she flew off +a-squawking <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> and Joe +splashed the water over himself.” She broke into a delighted giggle at the +recollection of Joe’s discomfiture, and Peggy smiled in sympathy with her +evident enjoyment. Peggy’s heart was tender to all children, and this +small, communicative creature was so nearly Dorothy’s size as to appeal to +her especially.</p> + +<p>“I think you are about the age of my little niece,” said Peggy in +her usual friendly fashion. “You must come to play with her some day. You +see, she is the only little girl among a lot of big ones, and she might get +lonely.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll come along with you this afternoon,” said the child +readily, whereat Rosetta Muriel uttered a horrified gasp, and her mother hastily +interposed.</p> + +<p>“Annie Cole! You won’t do any such thing. Folks that snap up +invitations like a chicken does a grasshopper, ain’t going to be asked out +very often.”</p> + +<p>It was arranged that Peggy should carry home a basket of provisions for the +evening meal, and that Joe should come over in the morning with a larger supply, +bringing at the same time the yellow hen who was desirous of assuming the cares +of a family. During the discussion of these practical <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> matters, Rosetta Muriel had maintained a +disdainful silence. But when Mrs. Cole went to pack a basket, the daughter, for +the first time, took an active part in the conversation.</p> + +<p>“I guess you’ll find it pretty dull up here, with no moving +picture shows nor nothing.”</p> + +<p>Peggy disclaimed the idea in haste. “Dull! I think it’s perfectly +lovely. I couldn’t think of missing anything up here, except folks, you +know.”</p> + +<p>“Moving pictures ain’t any rarity to me,” said Rosetta +Muriel, trying to appear sophisticated. “I’ve seen ’em lots of +times. But I get awfully tired of the country. I’ve got a friend who +clerks in a store in your town. Maybe you know her. Her name’s Cummings, +Gladys Cummings.”</p> + +<p>Peggy had never met Miss Cummings, and said so. Rosetta Muriel went on with +her description.</p> + +<p>“It’s an awful stylish store where she works, Case and +Rosenstein’s. And Gladys, she’s awfully stylish, too. She looks as +if she’d just stepped out of a fashion plate.” And something in her +inflection suggested even to Peggy that from Rosetta Muriel’s standpoint, +she had failed to live up to her opportunities. Certainly in a gingham frock two +seasons old, and faded by frequent washings, Peggy <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> did not remotely suggest those large-eyed +ladies of willowy figure, so seldom met with outside the sheets of fashion +periodicals.</p> + +<p>“I’ll be glad to call on you some day soon,” said Rosetta +Muriel following Peggy to the door. And Peggy, basket in hand, assured her that +she would be welcome, and so made her escape. The air was sweet with myriad +unfamiliar fragrances. Over in the west, the cloudless blue of the sky was +streaked with bands of pink. Peggy reached the road, guiltless of sidewalks, and +winding, according to specifications, and broke into a little song as she walked +along its dusty edge. Such a beautiful world as it was, and such a beautiful +summer as it was going to be. “If I couldn’t sing,” exclaimed +Peggy, breaking off in the middle of her refrain, “I believe I should +burst.”</p> + +<p>Something rustled the grass behind her, and she turned her head. A gaunt dog, +of no particular breed, had been following her stealthily, but at her movement +he stopped short, apparently ready to take to flight at any indication of +hostility on her part. He was by no means a handsome animal, but his big, +yellowish-brown eyes had the look of pathetic appeal which is the badge of the +homeless, whether dogs or men.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span>That hunted look, +and a little propitiating wag of the tail, which was not so much a wag as a +suggestion of what he might do if encouraged, went to Peggy’s heart. +“Poor fellow!” she exclaimed, and the mischief was done. Instantly +the dog had classified her. She was not the stone-throwing sort of person, who +said “get out.” He bounded forward and pressed his head against her +so insinuatingly that Peggy found it impossible not to pat it, then gave a +little expressive whimper, and fell back at her heels. Whenever Peggy looked +behind, during the remainder of her walk, he was following as closely and almost +as silently as a shadow.</p> + +<p>Peggy had the time to get supper preparations well under way before the other +girls made their appearance, pink and drowsy-eyed after their long naps. +Priscilla was the first to come down, and she started at the sight of the tawny +body stretched upon the doorstep.</p> + +<p>“Mercy, Peggy. What’s that?”</p> + +<p>“It’s a dog, poor thing, and the thinnest beast I ever +imagined.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you haven’t been giving him anything to eat, +Peggy.”</p> + +<p>The flush in Peggy’s cheeks was undoubtedly due to the heat of a +blazing wood-fire. “I guess we <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_31'></a>31</span> won’t miss a few dried-up sandwiches,” +she said with spirit.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it isn’t that. It’s only that if you feed him, +we’ll never get rid of him. Doesn’t he look dirty though, like a +regular tramp?”</p> + +<p>The other girls slipped down one by one, and if there were any truth in the +saying that many cooks spoil the broth, Peggy’s anticipations for the +supper she had planned, would never have been realized. The meal was almost +ready to be put on the table, when Amy appeared, demanding anxiously what she +should do to help.</p> + +<p>“We really don’t need you a mite,” Peggy assured, with a +laugh. “But I’d hate to disappoint such industry. Come here and stir +this milk gravy so it won’t burn.”</p> + +<p>Amy moved to her post of duty without any unbecoming alacrity.</p> + +<p>“I’m not industrious,” she retorted. “And I +don’t want to be. I intend to work when you girls make me and that’s +all. This is my vacation and I’m going to use it recuperating.”</p> + +<p>“I really can’t see the need myself,” Claire whispered to +Priscilla, but Priscilla did not return her smile. Amy’s plumpness was a +joke which Amy enjoyed as well as anybody, but Claire’s covered <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> whisper seemed to put +another face on it. Priscilla bent over a loaf of bread on the board and sliced +away with an impassive face.</p> + +<p>“And that reminds me,” continued Amy cheerfully, “that I +feel like re-naming this cottage for the season. Mrs. Leighton wouldn’t +care what we called it.”</p> + +<p>“Why, I think Sweet Briar Cottage is a beautiful name,” Claire +protested.</p> + +<p>“I think so, too. But it’s too dressy to suit my ideas. I’m +sure I never could live up to it. Say, girls, I move we call it Dolittle +Cottage.”</p> + +<p>And, in spite of Claire’s manifest disapproval, the motion was +carried.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span><a id='link_3'></a>CHAPTER III<br /><span class='h2fs'>GETTING ACQUAINTED</span></h2> + +<p>The squawking of the yellow hen served as an alarm-clock for the late +sleepers in Dolittle Cottage the next morning. Peggy who was up, but was +loitering over her toilet, in a most un-Peggy-like fashion, scrambled +frantically into her clothes and went flying down-stairs. As she threw open the +kitchen door, a gaunt dog seated on the top step, greeted her with a courteous +waggle, quite as if he were the head of the establishment and bent on doing the +honors.</p> + +<p>“He wouldn’t let me come no nearer,” said a lanky, grinning +individual who stood at a respectful distance, with a basket on either arm. +“Looks like he’d adopted you.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it does rather look that way,” returned Peggy, and bestowed +an appreciative pat on the dog’s head. It might have been her imagination, +but she fancied that a few hours of belonging somewhere, had wrought a marked +change in him. If he had been human, she would have said that he seemed more +self-respecting. He neither cringed <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_34'></a>34</span> nor cowered, but scrutinized Farmer Cole’s +hired man with an alert gravity, as if demanding that he show his +credentials.</p> + +<p>“Mis’ Cole sent you over this here truck,” Joe explained, +“and she says she’ll have Annie bring the bread, after she’s +through baking. Where d’you want this hen?”</p> + +<p>Peggy led the way to the woodshed, improving the opportunity to sound Joe on +the subject of raising chickens. And that unsophisticated youth, who in the +beginning of the interview had seemed as painfully conscious of his hands and +feet, as if these appendages were brand new, and he had not had time to get +accustomed to having them about, lost his embarrassment in view of her evident +teachableness, and fairly swamped her with information.</p> + +<p>The eighteen eggs for the setting were in a little basket by themselves. +Peggy hung over them breathlessly, and saw in fancy eighteen balls of yellow +down, teetering on toothpick legs. Then her imagination leaped ahead, and the +cream-colored eggs had become eighteen lusty, pin-feathered fowls, worth forty +cents a pound in city markets. Peggy’s heart gave a jubilant flutter. Many +a fortune had started, she was sure, with less than that basket of eggs.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span>The work dragged +in Dolittle Cottage that morning. It was not that there was so much to do, but +there were so many distractions. Peggy’s business enterprise had been the +occasion of much animated comment at the breakfast table, and when Peggy mixed +some corn meal and carried it out to the woodshed, the girls dropped their +various tasks and came flocking after her. The yellow hen was already on her +eggs, and she ruffled her feathers in a hostile fashion at the approach of her +new owner. Peggy placed her offering conveniently near the nest, raised a +warning finger to the chattering girls, as if there had been a baby asleep in +the soap-box the yellow hen was occupying, and then tiptoed off, with an air of +exaggerated caution.</p> + +<p>“You see, she’s very excited and nervous,” Peggy explained, +in a subdued voice. “But Joe said she was hungry, and I guess she’ll +get off the eggs long enough to eat. Sh! She’s coming now!”</p> + +<p>The yellow hen had indeed yielded to the temptation of Peggy’s +hasty-pudding. She popped out of the box, gobbled a little of the corn meal, +took one or two hasty swallows of water, and then rushed back to her maternal +duties. The girls broke into irreverent giggles.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span>“I +shouldn’t call her a beauty,” Ruth declared, as the yellow hen +settled down on her eggs, spreading out her feathers till she looked as large as +a small turkey.</p> + +<p>“Her legs remind me of feather dusters,” Amy remarked pertly.</p> + +<p>“It looks to me as if she were trying to revive the fashion of +pantalets,” suggested Priscilla.</p> + +<p>Peggy was forced to join in the general laugh. “Her legs may not be +much to look at, girls,” she admitted, “but those feathers are a +sign of Breed.” And with this master-stroke she led the way back to the +kitchen, the dog, who had followed them into the woodshed, with every appearance +of being at home, stalking at her heels.</p> + +<p>“Peggy,” Priscilla inquired suspiciously, “have you fed +that dog again this morning?”</p> + +<p>“He’s a splendid watch-dog,” replied Peggy, evading a +direct answer. “He wouldn’t let Joe come near the house.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose that means you’ve decided to add a dog to your +menagerie.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I’ve been consulted about it,” laughed +Peggy. “He took matters into his own hands,–or, I should say, +teeth.”</p> + +<p>“Probably you’ve named him already.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span>“Of course. +His name is Hobo,” answered Peggy on the spur of the moment, and Priscilla +replied with dignity that he looked the part, and returned to her cooling dish +water.</p> + +<p>“It really isn’t safe picking up a strange dog that way,” +Claire murmured, sympathetically, as she reached for a dish towel. “He +might turn on us at any minute.” Priscilla whose criticism had been only +half serious, found the implication annoying, and when, under her stress of +feeling, she set a tumbler down hard, and cracked it, the experience did not +tend to relieve her sense of vexation.</p> + +<p>“Girls,” Ruth, who was sweeping the porch, put her head in the +door, “there’s a boy here who wants to know if we’d like some +fresh fish.”</p> + +<p>Various exclamations sounding up-stairs and down, indicated that the +proposition was a welcome one, and Peggy stepped out of the back door to +interview the dealer. A boy in nondescript costume, with a brimless straw hat on +the back of his head, held up a string of fish without speaking.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I think I’ll like them if they’re fresh and +cheap,” said Peggy firmly, resolved to be business-like.</p> + +<p>It appeared that the fish had been caught that morning and the price +impressed Peggy as extremely <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_38'></a>38</span> reasonable. She was about to conclude the bargain +when Priscilla’s echoing whisper summoned her to the screen door.</p> + +<p>“Peggy, tell him we’ll buy fish of him several times a week if +he’ll clean them. Fish scales are so messy and awful.”</p> + +<p>Peggy thought well of the proposition, and the young fisherman offered no +objection. With a grunt of acquiescence he seated himself on the steps, pulled +out his pocket knife and began operations. Then as Hobo took his stand where he +could view proceedings, the boy turned abruptly to Peggy. She saw that his brown +eyes were keen, and his features clear-cut. “Why, if he’d only fix +up a little,” she thought with surprise, “he’d be quite nice +looking.”</p> + +<p>“That your dog?” the boy was demanding, and Peggy hesitated, then +laughed as she remembered her conversation with Priscilla.</p> + +<p>“He seems to think so,” she acknowledged. “He followed me +home last night, and he doesn’t have any intention of going away, as far +as anybody can see.”</p> + +<p>“That dog hasn’t had a square deal,” said the boy with +sudden heat. “Dogs don’t have as a rule, but this one’s worse +off than most. He used to <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_39'></a>39</span> belong to some folks who lived on the Drierston pike, +raised him from a puppy they had, and he saved one of the kids from drowning, +one time. More fool he, I say.”</p> + +<p>Peggy gasped an expostulation. The boy silenced her with a vindictive gesture +of the hand that held the knife.</p> + +<p>“You wait till I tell you. Their house burned down and they moved off +and they just left the dog behind, as if he had been rubbish. That was +more’n a year ago. And ever since he’s been sneaking and skulking +and stealing his victuals, and been stoned and driven off with whips, and shot +at till it’s a wonder he don’t go ’round biting everybody he +sees.”</p> + +<p>It was evident that Hobo’s lot had been a hard one, and that through no +fault of his own. “Poor fellow,” Peggy said, resolving to atone, as +far as a few weeks of kindness could, for that dreadful year of homelessness. +“You seem to like animals,” she remarked, finding Hobo’s +champion oddly interesting.</p> + +<p>The boy cut off the head of a fish with a crunch. “I’d ought +to,” he returned grimly. “I’ve got to like something and I +don’t like folks.”</p> + +<p>“What folks do you mean?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span>“Don’t +like any folks,” the boy persisted, and slashed on savagely.</p> + +<p>Peggy was not prepared to believe in such universal misanthropy on the part +of one so young. She guessed it to be a pose, and resolved that she would not +encourage it by appearing shocked. “I don’t think you show very good +taste,” she observed calmly, “disliking everybody in a lump that +way. There are as many kinds of people as there are birds or flowers.”</p> + +<p>“You ask any of the folks ’round here about Jerry Morton,” the +boy exclaimed. “They’ll tell you what a good-for-nothing lazy-bones +he is. They’ll say he isn’t worth the powder and shot to blow him up +with.”</p> + +<p>Peggy did some rapid thinking. “Are you Jerry Morton?”</p> + +<p>“You bet I am.” His tone was defiant.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I see,” said Peggy to herself. “People don’t +like him, and so he fancies that he doesn’t like people.” This +explanation which, by the way, fits more misanthropes than Jerry, resulted in +making Peggy sorry for the boy in spite of the unbecoming sullenness of his face +at that moment.</p> + +<p>“Well, Jerry,” she said gently, “if your neighbors think +that of you, I’m sure they are as much <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_41'></a>41</span> mistaken as you are in what you think of them.” +She counted out the change into his hand. “This is Thursday, isn’t +it? Can you bring us some more fish Saturday?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’ll bring ’em,” said the boy in a more subdued +fashion than he had yet spoken. He dropped his earnings into his pocket +uncounted, and went away without a good-by. Peggy carried the fish indoors, and +was greeted by mocking laughter.</p> + +<p>“You’ve added one tramp to the establishment,” said +Priscilla, shaking a warning finger in her friend’s absorbed face; +“don’t try to annex another.”</p> + +<p>Peggy was too much in earnest to notice the banter. “That poor boy! He +thinks he hates everybody, and I guess the trouble is that he wants to be liked. +I’m going to ask Mrs. Cole or some other nice, motherly person about +him.” Then her eyes fell upon the clock and she uttered an exclamation of +dismay.</p> + +<p>“Girls, where does the time go to? I meant to suggest that we go +berrying this morning, but now we’ve got to wait till after dinner. I hope +there are no naps to be taken this afternoon. I’m going berrying if I have +to go alone.”</p> + +<p>“You can count on me, darling,” Amy cried, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> flinging her arms about Peggy’s +neck. And Dorothy chimed in bravely, “An’ you can count on me, Aunt +Peggy. But–but what are you going to bury?”</p> + +<p>While Peggy was explaining, Claire laid her hand on Priscilla’s arm, +and looked tenderly into her eyes.</p> + +<p>“We’re going for a walk, you know. You promised last +evening.”</p> + +<p>Priscilla looked up in surprise.</p> + +<p>“Why, I know I said we’d take a walk. But this will be a walk and +a lot of fun beside.”</p> + +<p>“But, don’t you see,” Claire leaned toward her and spoke +rapidly, “it can’t take the place of strolling through the woods +just with you alone? There are so many of us girls that I’m simply hungry +to have you to myself. I’ve just been living on the thought of it ever +since you promised me last night.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Priscilla compressing her lips. She resolved to +be very careful what she said to Claire, if any casual remark could be construed +into a binding promise. With dismay she realized that it was not yet twenty-four +hours since their arrival, and already Claire’s demonstrations of +affection were becoming irksome.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span>If she had +cherished the hope that Claire would relent, she was destined to disappointment. +An early dinner was eaten, and the dishes washed with an alacrity in agreeable +contrast to the dilatory methods of the morning. Then the party divided, Claire +and Priscilla going off in the direction of the woods–Priscilla walking +with more than her usual erectness–while the others took the route to the +pastures where the raspberries grew, Peggy having ascertained their exact +location in her talk with Joe that morning.</p> + +<p>The array of tin pails with the berrying party suggested the probability that +the occupants of Dolittle Cottage would eat nothing but raspberries for a week. +Aunt Abigail and Dorothy had insisted on equipping themselves with the largest +size of pail, though it was noticeable that when they were once in the pasture, +most of the berries they gathered went into their mouths. And in this they were +undoubtedly wise, for a raspberry fresh from the bushes, warmed by the sun, and +fragrant as a rose, with perhaps a blood-red drop of fairy wine in its delicate +cup, is vastly superior to its subdued, civilized self, served in a glass dish +and smothered in sugar.</p> + +<p>It was not long before Aunt Abigail and Dorothy <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> were taking their ease under a tree and +placidly eating a few berries which had found a temporary respite at the bottom +of their pails. Ruth picked with painstaking conscientiousness, and Peggy with +the enjoyment which converts industry into an art. As for Amy, she wandered +about the pasture always sure that the next spot was a more promising field of +operations than the nearer. She was some distance from the others when her +search was rewarded by the discovery of a clump of bushes unusually full.</p> + +<p>“There!” exclaimed Amy triumphantly, as if answering the argument +of her almost empty pail. “I knew I’d find them thicker. +Peggy–oh, Peg–”</p> + +<p>Her summons broke off in a startled squeal. There was a rustle on the other +side of the bushes, and Amy took a flying leap which landed her on her knees +with her overturned pail beside her. She screamed again, and a girl in a gingham +dress and sunbonnet of the same material, ran out from behind the leafy +screen.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m sorry if I frightened you,” she exclaimed. +“I hope you’re not hurt.”</p> + +<p>Amy scrambled to her feet with a sigh of immense relief.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span>“No, indeed, +and I shouldn’t have been scared only I thought it was a cow.”</p> + +<p>The grave young face set in the depths of the sunbonnet broke into a smile +that quite transformed it.</p> + +<p>“Even if it had been,” the girl suggested, “it +wouldn’t have been so very dangerous, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe not.” Amy’s tone was dubious. And then as Peggy and +Ruth came hurrying to the spot, she turned to give them an explanation of the +scream which had summoned them in such haste. All four laughed together, and the +girl in the sunbonnet had an odd sense of being well acquainted with the +friendly invaders.</p> + +<p>“I suppose introductions are in order,” Amy rattled on, +“but, you see, I don’t know your name.”</p> + +<p>“I’m Lucy Haines.”</p> + +<p>“Well, this is Peggy Raymond, our mistress of ceremonies, and this is +Ruth Wylie, who thinks everything that Peggy does is exactly right, and +I’m the scatterbrain of the lot.”</p> + +<p>Lucy Haines looked a little bewildered as she met the girls’ smiles, +when Peggy came to the rescue. “A crowd of us are in Mrs. Leighton’s +cottage for the summer, and this is our first berrying. Don’t you think +I’ve had good luck?” She tilted <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_46'></a>46</span> her pail to show its contents, and Lucy Haines +admired as in duty bound.</p> + +<p>“Let’s see how you’ve done,” suggested Amy, and Lucy +brought from the other side of the raspberry bushes a large-sized milk-pail so +heaping full that the topmost berries looked as if they were contemplating +escape. The girls exclaimed in chorus.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean that you’ve picked those all +yourself,” cried Amy, remembering the scanty harvest she had spilled in +her tumble.</p> + +<p>“Your family must be very fond of raspberries,” observed +Ruth.</p> + +<p>“Raspberry jam, I suppose,” said the practical Peggy, but the +sunbonnet negatived the suggestion by a slow shake.</p> + +<p>“No. It’s not that. I pick berries for pay. I send them into the +city on the express train every night as long as the season lasts. I want to go +to school,” she ended rather abruptly, “and I’m ready to do +anything I can to make a little money.”</p> + +<p>“And did you really pick them all to-day?” persisted Amy, eyeing +the milk-pail respectfully. “It would take me a year, at the least +calculation.”</p> + +<p>Lucy Haines smiled gravely at the extravagance. “I’ve been doing +it all my life,” she said. “That makes a difference.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span>“Then +you’ve lived here always?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and my mother before me, and her mother, too. When I was a little +girl I used to love to hear grandmother tell how one time she was picking +blackberries in this very pasture, and she heard a sound and peered around the +bush. And there sat a brown bear, eating berries as fast as he could.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad Dorothy isn’t around to hear that story,” +Peggy cried laughing; “she’d be sure it was bears whenever anything +rustled.” But Amy’s face was serious.</p> + +<p>“That’s worse than cows!” she exclaimed. “The next +time I hear a noise on the other side of a bush, I shan’t even dare to +scream.”</p> + +<p>Lucy Haines shifted her pail from her left hand to her right. “Well, I +guess I’ll call my stint done for to-day. Good-by!”</p> + +<p>“Good-by,” the others echoed, and Peggy added, with her friendly +smile, “I suppose we’ll see you again some day. I hope so, I’m +sure.”</p> + +<p>She repeated the wish a little later, as the sunbonnet went out of sight over +the brow of the hill. “Because she seems such a nice sort of girl. +I’m going to like this place, I know. There are such interesting people in +it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Peggy,” Amy cried with a teasing laugh, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> “you know you’d like any +place, and you find all kinds of people interesting.” And then because the +sight of Lucy Haines’ full pail had made them somewhat dissatisfied with +the results of their own efforts, they all fell to picking with a tremendous +display of industry.</p> + +<p>Priscilla and Claire were on the porch when the others came home laden with +their spoils. Claire wore a noticeable air of complacency, but Priscilla looked +a little tired and despondent. All through their stroll Claire had harped on the +joy of being by themselves at last, and had insisted on walking with her arm +about Priscilla’s waist, which on a narrow path was inconvenient, to say +the least. Priscilla was rather ashamed to acknowledge even to herself that she +found Claire’s devotion wearisome. Of course, Claire was a very sweet +girl, but it was so easy to have a surfeit of sweets.</p> + +<p>“I hope you left a few on the bushes,” she said rather +resentfully, when the berry-pickers had recounted their experiences with an +enthusiasm which gave to the expedition through the pasture the glamor of real +adventure, “I’d like the fun of picking some real berries +myself.”</p> + +<p>“We might go to-morrow,” Claire suggested in a careful undertone. +Priscilla’s face flushed, and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_49'></a>49</span> Peggy seeing her look of annoyance, created a +diversion by springing to her feet.</p> + +<p>“Time to get supper. I’m as hungry as a wolf, now that I stop to +think about it. How does cornbread and fried fish strike the crowd?”</p> + +<p>“O Peggy,” Priscilla forgot her vexation in the importance of the +announcement to be made, “the frying-pan has been borrowed!”</p> + +<p>“Borrowed!” Peggy stood motionless in her astonishment. +“But who–but why–”</p> + +<p>“It’s a woman who lives down the road a way. I suppose +she’s what you call a neighbor up here. What did she say her name was, +Claire?”</p> + +<p>“Snooks. Mrs. Snooks.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. And she was very much interested in everything about us, and +asked all kinds of questions. But she came especially to borrow the frying-pan. +Can you get along without it, Peggy?”</p> + +<p>“Why, if you can’t have what you want, you can always make +something else do,” returned Peggy, unconsciously formulating one of the +axioms in her philosophy of life. “But a frying-pan seems such a strange +thing to borrow, Priscilla. She must have one of her own, and it’s not a +thing one’s likely to mislay. However,” she added hastily, as if +fearful of seeming to blame the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_50'></a>50</span> over-generous lender, “we’ll get along. +Well just forget that we ever had a frying-pan, and that it was +borrowed.”</p> + +<p>But, as Peggy was soon to learn, it was not going to be an easy matter to +forget Mrs. Snooks.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span><a id='link_4'></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><span class='h2fs'>A STUDY IN NATURAL HISTORY</span></h2> + +<p>From the very start the big brick fireplace in the living-room had held an +irresistible fascination for the Terrace girls, accustomed as they were to the +unromantic register. And when five days of their outing had passed and no fire +had been kindled on the blackened hearth, Priscilla thought they were missing +golden opportunities, and said so.</p> + +<p>“The last of June isn’t the best time in the year for open +fires,” suggested Peggy. “But I do think that to-night seems a +little cooler. Perhaps we might have a fire and not swelter.”</p> + +<p>“We could roast apples, couldn’t we?” Amy cried. “And +chestnuts. Only there aren’t any chestnuts.”</p> + +<p>“And just a few very wormy apples,” added Ruth. “But we can +tell stories, and sit around in a circle, and not have any light in the room, +except the light of the fire.”</p> + +<p>The prospect was so alluring that supper was dispatched in haste, and one or +two of the girls <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +went so far as to suggest letting the dishes wait over till the next day. But as +Peggy expressed horror at this unhousewifely proceeding, and Amy called +attention to the fact that left-over dishes are doubly hard to wash, the motion +failed to carry. Five pairs of busy hands made short work of the necessary task, +and when the dishes were out of the way, and Peggy was conducting Dorothy +up-stairs to bed, the others made a rush to the woodshed and filled their +gingham aprons with pine knots and shavings.</p> + +<p>Dorothy suspecting delights from which she was to be excluded, was inclined +to make slow work of undressing, and relieved the tedium of the process by +frantic demonstrations of affection. “Wish you’d go to bed with me, +Aunt Peggy. ’Cause I love you so awfully.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, this isn’t bedtime for big girls. They won’t be sleepy +for a long while yet.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t be sleepy for a long while, either. Won’t you sit +beside my bed, Aunt Peggy, ’cause I’m ’fraid. If a bear should +come–”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dorothy, don’t think so much about bears. Think about the +little angels that watch good children when they are asleep.”</p> + +<p>Dorothy fell into a fit of musing. “I wish those <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> little angels would play with me when I +was awake, ’stead of watching me when I was asleep. Say, Aunt Peggy, which would +you rather have, wings or roller-skates?”</p> + +<p>Peggy steered the conversation away from this delicate question to +Dorothy’s prayers, which Dorothy galloped through with cheerful +irreverence. On the “Amen” her eyes flashed open.</p> + +<p>“Now, Aunt Peggy, you’ve got to tack down my eyelids, same as my +mamma does.”</p> + +<p>“Why, of course.” Peggy patiently kissed the long-lashed lids +shut, stimulated by Dorothy’s cheerfully impersonal comments on her +performance, and even drove a few extra “tacks,” in quite +unnecessary spots, as, for example, the corners of Dorothy’s roguish +mouth, and the dimple showing in the curve of her pink cheek. And by that time +even Dorothy could think of no further excuses for detaining her.</p> + +<p>Down-stairs the preliminary steps to the realization of the romance of a real +wood fire on a real hearth had proved prosaic enough. In the beginning the fire +had frankly sulked, and instead of blazing up brightly, had emitted clouds of +smoke out of all proportion to its size. Every one was coughing as Peggy came +into the room, and handkerchiefs <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_54'></a>54</span> were busy wiping tears from brimming eyes, so that +outwardly the scene was anything but joyous. But the draught from the open +windows finally stimulated the lazy chimney to greater exertions, and just as +Peggy crossed the threshold, a brave little flame leaped up from the smoking, +smouldering mass, and a cheery crackle made music plainly audible above the +chorus of coughing.</p> + +<p>“Lovely!” cried Peggy, and warmed her hands at the blaze as if it +had been midwinter. “As long as I didn’t have any of the trouble of +making the fire, I’ll brush up the shavings and things.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not sure but you’ve got the worst end of it,” +remarked Priscilla, casting a dismayed glance about her. “How in the world +did shavings get scattered over this room from one end to the other?”</p> + +<p>As no one had anything to offer in explanation, Peggy went to find the +dustpan and was absent for some minutes. By this time the fire was blazing +merrily, and throwing off an amount of heat quite unnecessary for a mild June +evening. Even while the girls were exchanging congratulations on their success, +it was to be noticed that they did not form a compact circle about the +fireplace, but sat in the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_55'></a>55</span> most remote corners of the room, and fanned +themselves with newspapers.</p> + +<p>“It’s the strangest thing,” announced Peggy returning, +“I can’t find the dustpan high or low.”</p> + +<p>Amy jumped. “Didn’t she bring it back?”</p> + +<p>“Who? Not Mrs Snooks?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she came when you’d gone to pay Mrs. Cole, and she said +she’d send her little girl back with it in half an hour or so.”</p> + +<p>“It’s certainly strange,” said Peggy, giving evidences of +exasperation, “that when we’ve only one of a thing, that’s +exactly what Mrs. Snooks wants to borrow. Of course it’s nice for +neighbors to help one another out, especially in a place like this where you are +so far from a store. If it was baking-powder, I wouldn’t say a word. But a +dustpan.”</p> + +<p>“It was baking-powder yesterday,” suggested Amy. “Sweep the +shavings into a corner, Peg, and let’s start on the stories. Now, Aunt +Abigail, here’s your chance to shine.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, Aunt Abigail,” echoed Peggy, for it had early been +decided that Amy should not be allowed a monopoly in the use of that +affectionate title. “We’ve heard you were the best ever, since the +woman in the Arabian Nights–what was her <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_56'></a>56</span> name–Scheherezade,–and we want to know if +Amy was exaggerating.”</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail smiled complacently.</p> + +<p>“What sort of story do you want?” she asked. “Something +pathetic, or a story of adventure, or a humorous story or a ghost story +or–”</p> + +<p>An approving shout interrupted her. “Oh, a ghost story, Aunt +Abigail!”</p> + +<p>Priscilla clapped her hands. “Isn’t this simply perfect! The +firelight on the wall, and shadows flickering, and then a ghost story to crown +everything. Do make it a creepy one, Aunt Abigail.”</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail hardly needed urging along that line. She had been an omnivorous +reader all her days, and from books, as well as from what she had picked up on +her travels, she had acquired an unsurpassed collection of weird incidents which +she now began to recount with dramatic effect. The girls sat spellbound, and +when, at the conclusion of the first story, a faint little wail sounded from the +distance, the general start was indicative of tense nerves.</p> + +<p>But it was only Dorothy, awake and standing at the head of the stairs. +“Aunt Peggy!”</p> + +<p>“Go back to bed, darling.”</p> + +<p>“But, Aunt Peggy, what d’you s’pose those little <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> angels have done now? They’ve bited +me right on my fourhead.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my!” Peggy ran up the stairs, to a justly aggrieved Dorothy, +indicating an inflamed lump on her forehead, as a proof of misplaced confidence. +Peggy lit the candle and after some search discovered a swollen mosquito, +perched on the head of Dorothy’s bed, ready to resume operations at the +first opportunity. Gluttony had lessened his natural agility, and at +Peggy’s avenging hand he paid the penalty of his crime. Peggy lingered to +correct Dorothy’s misapprehension, and then went down-stairs, to find +another blood-curdling tale in progress, and the girls sitting breathless, while +the firelight threw fantastic shapes upon the wall, and the shadows looked +startlingly black by contrast.</p> + +<p>Ten o’clock was the sensible bedtime decided on in Dolittle Cottage, +but on this occasion the big clock chimed ten unheeded. Apparently Aunt +Abigail’s repertoire was far from being exhausted. She had rung the +changes on all the familiar horrors in a dozen stories, and yet no one seemed +willing to have her stop. It was quarter of eleven when Peggy remarked +reluctantly: “Girls, if we’re going to get up any time to-morrow, +we’d better-be going to bed.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span>The suggestion was +not received with enthusiasm. Priscilla declared that she wasn’t a bit +sleepy, and the others all echoed the statement. Then Aunt Abigail was appealed +to, for just one more, and complied without any pretence of reluctance. Aunt +Abigail was enjoying herself hugely, and it was characteristic of her amiable +irresponsibility that it never occurred to her that there might be undesirable +consequences, from thus stimulating the vivid imaginations of a party of +sensitive girls.</p> + +<p>It was very near midnight when at last they filed up-stairs to bed. The fire +was out, after having played its part so efficiently as to render it necessary +to open to its widest extent every door and window in the cottage. It was a +rather silent crowd that climbed the stairs. The girls went to their respective +rooms without any of the laughter and gay chatter which usually characterized +the hour of retiring. Peggy said to herself that they were all too tired to +talk.</p> + +<p>But Amy knew better. While Peggy shared Dorothy’s quarters, and +Priscilla and Claire occupied the room next to Aunt Abigail’s, Amy and +Ruth were tucked into a snug little box of a bedroom on the opposite side of the +hall. As Amy <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> hastily +lighted the candle on the little table at the side of the bed, she turned a +perturbed face on her roommate.</p> + +<p>“Oh, why did I let her do it?” she exclaimed tragically. +“Why did I ever listen? I know I’m not going to sleep a wink +to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Amy, what nonsense!” Ruth remonstrated, but she was aware +that her heartbeats had quickened. It was one thing to listen to Aunt +Abigail’s harrowing recitals, in a room made cheerful by firelight and +companionship, and another to recall the same horrors in comparative solitude. +“You’re not foolish enough to believe in things of that sort,” +Ruth remarked, with a brave effort to maintain her air of superiority.</p> + +<p>“No, I’m not foolish enough to <i>believe</i> in them,” Amy +acknowledged, “but I’m foolish enough so they scare me dreadfully. +Oh, dear! Won’t I be glad when it is to-morrow!”</p> + +<p>She repeated the wish a little later, when both girls were in bed, and Ruth +answered her a trifle tartly that it <i>was</i> very nearly to-morrow, and that +she wanted to go to sleep some time before morning, if Amy didn’t. Then +for a matter of thirty minutes silence reigned. The hour was late and the girls +were tired. In spite of her gloomy prophecy, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_60'></a>60</span> Amy was surprised and pleased to find a delicious +drowsiness creeping over her.</p> + +<p>All at once she sat up in bed. “Ruth,” she exclaimed in a +frightened whisper, “what was that?”</p> + +<p>“What was what?”</p> + +<p>“That rustling noise.”</p> + +<p>“O, Amy!” Ruth’s whispered exclamation conveyed an +extraordinary amount of exasperation for three syllables. And then as Amy +remained up-right, staring intently into the darkness, Ruth was conscious of a +curious pricking of the scalp. For she herself distinctly heard the sound to +which Amy referred, and, truth to tell, it was not unlike the rustling of the +unseen garments which had figured so frequently in the stories to which they had +lately been listening.</p> + +<p>“I can hear it as plain as anything, Amy. Do you suppose it is the +maple-tree back of the window?”</p> + +<p>“Of course it’s the maple-tree,” Ruth replied in a husky +whisper. How she envied Amy. Amy frankly acknowledged to being a coward, and +poor Ruth wished that she herself did not have a reputation for courage to +sustain. For certainly that sound was not the whisper of the wind in the <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span> boughs of the maple. It +was in the room, apparently at the foot of the bed.</p> + +<p>A long silence followed Ruth’s bravely mendacious assurance. Amy lay +down at length and drew the coverlet over her head. The thumping of Ruth’s +heart gradually steadied into an ordinary beat. Just as she was telling herself +that Amy’s foolish fancies had made her nervous, and she had imagined the +peculiar sound, her heart jumped again. Amy’s shivering body suddenly +huddled against hers, gave convincing testimony to the fact that Ruth’s +ears were not the only ones to catch something unusual.</p> + +<p>“What do you suppose it is?” choked Amy.</p> + +<p>This time Ruth made no attempt to hold the maple-tree responsible. “I +don’t know,” she whispered. The sound that vibrated through the room +was such as might be produced if a finger-nail were drawn across the window +screen. The thought entered Ruth’s mind, that perhaps some one was trying +to enter the room by the window, and supernatural horrors paled beside this +possibility.</p> + +<p>But this demonstration also was succeeded by a puzzling silence. Gradually +the tense muscles of the two frightened girls relaxed, and they ventured to +exchange perplexed comments on the mysterious <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_62'></a>62</span> interruptions to the peace of the night. “It +certainly was the screen,” declared Amy. “Do you suppose that the +wind blowing through it could make a noise like that?”</p> + +<p>Ruth did not think it likely, but forbore to say so, and after half an hour +of quiet, weariness again asserted itself and she began to feel agreeably +drowsy. Then Amy caught her arm and with the startled pinch, Ruth’s hopes +of sleep were indefinitely postponed.</p> + +<p>“There it is again,” said Amy, her teeth fairly chattering. +“There’s that rustling.”</p> + +<p>“Sh!” Ruth whispered back and her hand found Amy’s in the +dark. This time the rustling continued. It was a curiously elusive sound, as +difficult to locate as to understand. At one minute it seemed at the foot of the +bed, and again off in the corner of the room, and once Ruth was almost sure that +it was over her head. And that was the time when it seemed to her that her heart +must stop beating.</p> + +<p>“Ruth!” Amy snatched away her hand in her consternation. +“Ruth–I’m going to sneeze!”</p> + +<p>“You mustn’t!” protested Ruth panic-stricken. What +appalling consequences were to be apprehended from so rash an act, she herself +could not <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> have told. +But she was certain that if Amy sneezed, her own self-control would give way, +and she would scream. “Smother it,” she commanded fiercely.</p> + +<p>Amy grasped the sheet in a heroic effort to obey, but she was too late. She +sneezed, and to poor Ruth’s unstrung nerves, the sound was only to be +compared in volume to a peal of thunder. The mysterious rustling ceased, and +just outside the door a board creaked.</p> + +<p>“Girls!” The tentative whisper stole softly through the half-open +door. “Girls, are you awake?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Peggy!” There was untold relief in that brief welcome. +Peggy’s presence brought a sense of reinforcement, even against +supernatural terrors. Noiselessly Peggy crept into the room, and perched on the +edge of the bed. Considering the lateness of the hour, her air was peculiarly +alert.</p> + +<p>“I knew by Amy’s sneeze that she was awake, too, and I thought +I’d come in. I never had such a wakeful night in my life.”</p> + +<p>“Have you been hearing things, too?” demanded Amy, with an +immediate accession of respect for her own fears if Peggy shared them.</p> + +<p>Peggy hesitated. “Well, it hasn’t seemed as quiet as most of the +nights,” she replied, evasively.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span>“Rustling in +all the corners, and the screen twanging, that’s what we’ve +had,” exclaimed Ruth in an excited whisper.</p> + +<p>Peggy’s silence indicated that such phenomena did not surprise her. +“I suppose,” she remarked at length, in her most judicial manner, +“that we all got nervous over those uncanny stories, and so we’re +ready to imagine–Oh!”</p> + +<p>Something had swooped by her, almost brushing her cheek, and stirring her +hair with the breeze made by its passing. Peggy’s muffled shriek had two +echoes.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” demanded Amy, a hysterical catch in her voice. +“Oh, Peggy, what has happened?” And Peggy’s only reply +was a stern demand for the matches.</p> + +<p>The little candle, flaring up at last, showed nothing unusual, unless three +girls wide awake at half-past two in the morning could be included under that +head. Peggy stared incredulously about the empty room, and then faced her +friends.</p> + +<p>“Girls, I don’t know what ails us all,” said Peggy +honestly, “but I’m pretty sure none of us will go to sleep till +daylight. So, if you’ve no objection, I’m going to sit here and talk +till the sun’s up.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span>Nobody had any +objection. In fact, with the little candle flickering on the table, and Peggy +sitting at the foot of the bed, discussing commonplace things, Amy and Ruth felt +an immediate accession of courage. Luckily their time of waiting was not long. +Daybreak comes early on a summer morning, and by the time the candle was burned +to the socket, the pale daylight had stolen into the room and all three watchers +were certain that they could go to sleep.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Peggy that she had barely dozed off, before Dorothy awoke her. +Dorothy was standing by the window with one stocking on. When Dorothy’s +toilet had progressed to the point of putting on one stocking, she generally +thought of something else more interesting.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dorothy dear,” implored poor Peggy, turning on her pillow, +“it can’t be time to get up yet.”</p> + +<p>Dorothy crossed the room, and stood beside the bed. “Aunt Peggy,” +she inquired gravely, “did you ever see a mousie with an +umbrella?”</p> + +<p>“A mouse–with an umbrella!” repeated Peggy stupidly, +wondering if she were too sleepy to understand, or if Dorothy were only talking +nonsense. “Of course not.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span>“Well, I +did. There’s one hanging to our screen.”</p> + +<p>Peggy arose with alacrity. Suspended head downward from the screen, was +indeed a mouse-like shape, with the folded wings of a gnome, which Dorothy had +not unnaturally mistaken for an umbrella. Apparently the little creature had +passed an active night, and was now enjoying his well-earned repose. Peggy took +one look and crossed the hall with a bound. Amy and Ruth were sound asleep, but +Peggy was too excited to be merciful.</p> + +<p>“Girls! Girls! Come quick and see our ghost before it wakes +up!”</p> + +<p>The startling summons brought the sleepers to their feet in a twinkling and +when Peggy introduced the explanation of the night’s mystery, there was a +good deal of shame-faced laughter. Tacitly the girls agreed that the joke would +be more enjoyable if its circulation were strictly limited, and even when at the +breakfast-table Aunt Abigail remarked that she never saw such air for producing +sound sleep, three heavy-eyed girls exchanged glances, and kept their own +counsel.</p> + +<p>But a little later Dorothy was anxious for enlightenment on a point in +natural history. “Aunt Peggy, what makes you call a mousie a +goose?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span>“Why, I +didn’t, dear. A mouse and a goose aren’t the least bit +alike.”</p> + +<p>“But I heard you say it, Aunt Peggy. When I showed you the mousie, you +ran and said, ‘Here’s our goose.’”</p> + +<p>As good luck would have it, Ruth and Amy were the only ones to overhear the +remark, and Peggy was not called upon to satisfy more than Dorothy’s +curiosity.</p> + +<p>“That funny little thing that looks like a mouse, Dorothy, except for +its horrid black wings, is called a bat. And the goose was only Aunt +Peggy.”</p> + +<p>“And Ruth, another,” remarked the owner of that name.</p> + +<p>“And I was Number Three. Three gooses instead of three graces,” +was Amy’s addition, after which the three laughed in the fashion which +Dorothy found so mystifying, and consequently objectionable.</p> + +<p>That was not the last of the story-telling evenings by any means. Aunt +Abigail had abundant opportunity to display her <i>repertoire</i>. She told +pathetic stories, which brought the tears to the girls’ eyes, and funny +stories, which made them laugh until they cried, and the most thrilling tales of +adventure. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> But she +was never called upon to duplicate her early success. In the opinion of her +entire audience, apparently, one night of ghost stories was enough for the +entire summer.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span><a id='link_5'></a>CHAPTER V<br /><span class='h2fs'>A SAFE AND SANE FOURTH</span></h2> + +<p>“The three-legged race is what I’m dying to see,” Amy +declared. “It sounds so mysterious, you know, like some new kind of +quadruped. No, I don’t mean that,” she added hastily, as Peggy +laughed. “Quadrupeds have to have four legs, don’t they? Well, +anyway, it sounds like something queer.”</p> + +<p>The village celebration of the approaching Fourth of July had for some days +been the chief topic of conversation in Dolittle Cottage. The idea of a picnic, +with the whole community invited, was in itself a startling innovation to girls +who were city-bred, and the entertainment promised in the shape of various +contests, winding up with a baseball game between the “Fats” and the +“Leans” appealed to them all, more or less strongly. Peggy, with +that faculty for picking up information which would have made her an unqualified +success as a newspaper reporter, was continually announcing new items of +interest, that Farmer Cole’s Joe was <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_70'></a>70</span> to pitch for the “Leans,” or that Jerry +Morton had won the potato race the previous Fourth, and meant to enter again, or +that Rosetta Muriel disdained the promiscuous appeal of the picnic, but thought +she might bring herself to view the fireworks in the evening.</p> + +<p>The morning of the third was for the most part given up to preparing the +picnic luncheon, and Jerry Morton, who sampled Peggy’s doughnuts still hot +from the kettle, carried away a new-born respect for the accomplishments of that +versatile young person. Mrs. Snooks, too, arriving when the house was fragrant +with the mingled odors of blueberry turnovers, spiced cake and gingersnaps, +sniffed appreciatively, and lost no time in expressing her surprise.</p> + +<p>“Well, I want to know. I’ve heard tell that city folks most +generally bought their cake and stuff, instead of baking it. Dreadful shiftless +way, I call it. I just dropped in to see if you could let me have half a pail of +lard and a table-spoonful of soda.”</p> + +<p>Even the generous Peggy rejoiced that the opportunity to say no had arrived +at last.</p> + +<p>“I’ve just used up the last of the lard, Mrs. Snooks, and we +haven’t thought to get any soda yet.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span>“You +don’t mean to tell me that you’ve been getting along without +baking-soda,” exclaimed Mrs. Snooks with unconcealed disappointment. +“Well, well! Young folks are certainly thoughtless. And here you’ve +used up all your lard, and to-morrow the Fourth, and the store shut.” From +all appearances Mrs. Snooks was having something of a struggle to control her +irritation at such evidences of short-sightedness. It was clear, however, that +her efforts had been crowned with success, when she announced with an explosive +sigh, “Well, if you haven’t lard or baking-soda, I’ll take a +cup of granulated sugar, and a ball of darning cotton. Yes, black, I guess, +though if you’re out of black, ’most any color will do.”</p> + +<p>It was certainly disappointing when after such preparations and +anticipations, the girls were waked on the morning of the Fourth by the beating +of rain on the roof. The most optimistic of weather prophets could have seen no +promise of clearing in the lowering sky. The girls had roused a little early, in +honor of the occasion, and they came down-stairs with gloomy faces, and over the +oatmeal and bacon exchanged condolences. “To think that the first really +rainy day had to be the Fourth,” scolded Priscilla. “And when <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> we had made up our minds +to be so patriotic, too.”</p> + +<p>“And that three-legged race,” mourned Amy. “Probably +I’ll never get a chance to see another. Peggy, I warn you that when you +look so–preposterously cheerful, it makes me feel like throwing +something.”</p> + +<p>Peggy laughed, and helped herself to toast. “I was only thinking that +if we were going to keep the Fourth of July indoors, we’d have to have a +flag of some sort.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean you’d go three miles in this rain after a +flag, Peggy. And, anyway, the store would be closed for the Fourth.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I didn’t mean to buy one. I thought we’d make +it.”</p> + +<p>“Make a flag!” exclaimed Claire Fendall. “Who ever heard of +such a thing?”</p> + +<p>“Betsy Ross did it,” Peggy reminded her. “Let’s us +hurry through the dishes and see if we can’t do as much.”</p> + +<p>Even though the prospect of emulating Betsy Ross was an unsatisfactory +substitute for the anticipated excitements of the day, Peggy’s suggestion +was noticeably successful in raising the drooping spirits of the crowd. The work +of the morning <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span> was +dispatched in haste, and the girls flocked to the living-room where a fire less +ambitious than their first attempt had been kindled on the hearth. Peggy had +produced a large-sized white towel from her trunk, and she at once began to +explain her plan.</p> + +<p>“This will do for a foundation, girls. It’s soft and it will +drape nicely. Now all we need is a blue patch in one corner, and red stripes. +Who’s got any red ribbon?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve got that red ribbon I use for a sash,” responded Amy. +“But I’d hate to have it cut.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we won’t need to cut it. You see, this flag is going to be +draped over the fireplace, so its shortcomings won’t be in evidence, and +we’ll turn the ribbon on the side that doesn’t show. Bring me all +the red ribbons in the house. Amy’s sash won’t be enough.”</p> + +<p>So with much animated discussion, the flag grew apace. Nobody was exactly +sure whether the outer stripe should be red or white, and for economical +reasons, Peggy decided on the latter. “We’ll begin with white, +girls, for that will make seven white stripes and only six red ones. And +we’ve got plenty of white towel, while red ribbon is a little +scarce.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span>Another perplexing +question arose when Peggy had sacrificed the dark blue sailor collar of an old +blouse, to form the blue field in the upper corner of the flag. “Now we +can cut white stars out of paper and sew them on,” exclaimed Peggy, +standing back to admire her handiwork. “How many are there, +anyway?”</p> + +<p>Nobody was able to answer. Peggy gazed around the circle with a mingling of +indignation and incredulity.</p> + +<p>“What! All of us high school girls and not know how many states there +are in the Union! This is really awful. Aunt Abigail, <i>you</i> must +know.”</p> + +<p>“Dear me, child,” replied Aunt Abigail serenely, “I have an +impression that there were in the neighborhood of thirty-six at the time of the +Centennial Exposition. And since then I’ve lost track.”</p> + +<p>“I wonder if we could count them up,” mused Peggy, wrinkling her +forehead. “Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont–”</p> + +<p>“What’s the use?” protested Amy. “Who counts the +stars on the flag, anyway? We’ll crowd in forty or fifty, enough to pretty +well cover the blue, and it will look all right.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span>Ruth had a +suggestion to offer. “As long as this is a sort of Betsy Ross flag, why +not have thirteen stars, just as she had?”</p> + +<p>As this proposal afforded a satisfactory solution to the difficulty, the +thirteen stars were promptly cut from white paper and sewed in place, and the +finished flag was draped above the fireplace. Peggy’s anticipations in +regard to its shortcomings had been realized. The red stripes were not of +uniform width, or of the same shade, and the blue field was a trifle small in +proportion to the size of the flag, owing to the limitations of the original +sailor collar. Yet when it was in place, with the stripes composed of +Dorothy’s hair-ribbons drawn up artistically, so that the wrinkles +didn’t show, the effect was most impressive. And along with their pride in +their success, the girls experienced that indescribable thrill which is the +heart’s response to the challenge of our national emblem.</p> + +<p>“Now, girls,” Peggy was looking at the clock, “we’ve +got time for just one thing more before we start to get dinner. Each one of us +must write a patriotic conundrum, and then we’ll put them around at each +other’s plates, and we’ll have to guess them before we can eat a +mouthful.”</p> + +<p>The girls groaned in a dismay half real, half <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> assumed. “I don’t see how a +conundrum <i>can</i> be patriotic,” objected Claire.</p> + +<p>“Oh, if it’s about your native land, or George Washington, or the +flag, it’ll do,” conceded Peggy, and the words were hardly out of +her mouth when Amy made a dart for the writing desk. “Oh, let me have a +pencil, quick,” she begged, “before I forget it.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean that you’ve thought of one already!” +Ruth cried, but the radiant satisfaction on Amy’s countenance was answer +enough. With an expression of mingled wonder and envy, Ruth found a pencil and +scrap of paper, and set to work to produce her own conundrum in the allotted +half hour. With the exception of Amy, none of the girls could boast of any +inspiration for the task. Every face wore an expression of stern and relentless +absorption, in striking contrast to Amy’s air of carefree content.</p> + +<p>The ample provision made for a picnic dinner the previous day rendered the +preparation of the midday meal unusually easy, and the girls gathered at the +dinner-table less eager to sample the pressed meat and potato chips than to +examine the folded slips of paper placed under each plate. Peggy was the first +to unfold hers.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span>“Why is +Peggy like Betsy Ross?” she read aloud. “Oh, Amy Lassell! No wonder +it only took a half minute.” Her tone was reproachful, but Amy beamed upon +the company with no decrease of complacency.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I call a good conundrum,” she declared; +“it’s patriotic, and it’s easy to guess. The trouble with most +conundrums is that nobody can guess them except the people who make +them.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the case with this one, I think,” said Aunt +Abigail, scrutinizing her conundrum through her lorgnette. “What do you +make of this? At the top of the paper are the letters W. P. H. and underneath is +the question ‘Why are these letters like the Father of his +country?’”</p> + +<p>It was some time before any ray of light was thrown on this dark mystery. +“Whoever made it up will have to explain it,” Amy declared for the +tenth time. “It’s Peggy, of course, for she hasn’t helped in +the guessing. Now, my conundrum–”</p> + +<p>“Wait,” cried Priscilla, sitting up suddenly, “I know. +First in war–”</p> + +<p>“To be sure <i>W</i> is first in war, and <i>P</i> first in peace. A +little far-fetched, but not bad for a beginner,” said Aunt Abigail +patronizingly, while Ruth patted Priscilla’s tall head, not without +difficulty, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> and Amy +read aloud. “‘What is the most important of the United States?’ New +York, I suppose, though of course I like my own state lots better.”</p> + +<p>“No, it’s <i>matrimony</i>.” In her haste to explain, Ruth +forgot to wait for the guesses that might come nearer the mark. “But I +can’t see that it’s particularly patriotic, though it is about our +native land, and I’m dreadfully afraid it’s not so very +original.”</p> + +<p>“Original enough. Even in Solomon’s time there was nothing new +under the sun,” Peggy consoled her. “Now, Priscilla.” But +Priscilla had colored fiercely on unfolding her paper and crumpled it in her +hand. Even if she had not instantly recognized the handwriting she would have +had no difficulty in ascribing the sentiment to its rightful source.</p> + +<p>“Who is it that I love better than my native land? Can my dearest +Priscilla guess?”</p> + +<p>“Read yours, Claire,” Peggy said hastily, interrupting Amy who +was about to protest against the suppression of a single conundrum, and Claire +read obediently, “Why was Martha Washington like the captain of a +ship?” It was Peggy who distinguished herself by suggesting, +“Because <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +Washington was her second mate,” and Priscilla, whose flushed cheeks were +rapidly regaining their natural hue, pronounced the answer correct. +“Rather suspicious,” Amy declared. “Priscilla guesses +Peggy’s, and Peggy, Priscilla’s. Looks as if it was all fixed up +beforehand. Well, Ruth, yours is the last.”</p> + +<p>The last conundrum proved to be the most puzzling. “What battle of the +Revolution is like a weather-cock?” Various explanations of the mysterious +affinity were offered, and each in turn rejected. Aunt Abigail, the author, was +finally appealed to.</p> + +<p>“Why, dear me!” Aunt Abigail smiled upon the circle of interested +faces. “I haven’t the slightest idea, but I was sure that if +<i>any</i> battle of the Revolution was the least bit like a weather-cock, one +of you smart young folks would find it out.”</p> + +<p>After this auspicious beginning, the cheeriness of the midday meal was in +pleasing contrast to the gloom of breakfast. Even Amy forgot to mourn over +missing the three-legged race, and Ruth, who, under Graham’s tutelage, had +become an ardent devotee of baseball, was reconciled to her failure to witness +the unique contest between the Fats and the Leans. The morning had passed so +rapidly, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> and so +pleasantly on the whole, that every one was inclined to be hopeful regarding the +remainder of the day, and to wait with tranquillity the further unfoldment of +Peggy’s plans.</p> + +<p>When dinner was over, the dining-room in order, and the last shining dish +replaced on the cupboard shelves, expectant eyes turned in Peggy’s +direction, as if to ask “What next?” And Peggy, as was her custom, +promptly rose to the occasion.</p> + +<p>“Now for this afternoon–”</p> + +<p>A reverberating rap immediately behind her, caused Peggy to turn with a start +and throw open the door, whereupon the figure on the step entered without +waiting for an invitation. It was Jerry Morton, but a Jerry startlingly unlike +his every-day self. Even the fact that he was dripping with rain could not +obscure the magnificence of his toilet, including very pointed tan shoes, and a +hand-painted necktie. Under his coat was partially concealed some bulging object +which gave him an appearance singularly unsymmetrical.</p> + +<p>Peggy was the first to recover herself. “Why, good afternoon, Jerry. +But I guess we shan’t want any fish to-day.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t suppose I’d sell fish on the Fourth, do +you?” demanded Jerry with the impressive scorn <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> of a patriot misjudged. “I thought +maybe you’d like–like a little music, seeing it’s raining cats +and dogs.” He had thrown apart his soaked coat as he spoke, and the +bulging object proved to be a banjo, in a little flannel case, which Jerry +hastily removed, twanging the strings of the instrument in his anxiety to +ascertain the effect of the dampness on their constitution.</p> + +<p>“Music! Why, that’s very nice of you, Jerry. Come into the next +room and let me introduce you to Mrs. Tyler.” Peggy was a little in doubt +as to the light in which Aunt Abigail would regard this unceremonious call from +the youthful fish-vender. But the shrewd old lady was familiar with the customs +of too many lands, not to be able to accommodate herself to the democratic +simplicity of a country community. She gave Jerry her hand, insisted that he +should take a seat by the fire, where his damp clothing would gradually dry, and +forthwith called for “Dixie.” And hardly was the stirring melody +well under way before the girls were keeping time with toes and fingers, and a +general animation was replacing the temporary frigidity induced by Jerry’s +advent. Jerry really played surprisingly well, and on a stormy day such an +accomplishment stands its possessor in good stead.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span>But it was not +left to Jerry to uphold the reputation of the community for sociability. The +ringing of the front-door bell interrupted “The Suwannee River,” and +Peggy, who was nearest the door, jumped up to answer the summons, while Hobo, a +little ahead of her as usual, stood with his nose to the crack, gravely +attentive, as if to satisfy himself as to the intentions of the new arrival. +This time the open door revealed Rosetta Muriel, struggling to lower a +refractory umbrella, with her hat tipped rakishly over one eye.</p> + +<p>“Why, how do you do?” exclaimed Peggy, attempting to conceal her +surprise under an effusive cordiality. “Come right in.” But Rosetta +Muriel was not to be hurried. She closed her umbrella, righted her hat, and +began fumbling in a little beaded bag which dangled from her wrist. All the +heads were turned wonderingly toward the open door before she produced the +object of her search, a gilt-edged card, upon which was written with many +elaborate flourishes, “Miss Rosetta Muriel Cole.”</p> + +<p>Peggy gazing upon this work of art, began to realize the importance of the +occasion. Rosetta Muriel was making a call. “Will you walk in?” +Peggy repeated, this time with proper decorum, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_83'></a>83</span> and the caller entered and was presented to each of +the company in order.</p> + +<p>“Pleased to meet you,” said Rosetta Muriel, primly, in +acknowledgment of each introduction, but when Jerry’s turn came, both she +and Peggy varied from the usual formula. “Of course you know Jerry +Morton,” Peggy said, and Rosetta Muriel admitted the impeachment, with the +stiffest of bows. If not pleased at meeting Jerry, it was evident that she was +surprised to find him in Dolittle Cottage, and apparently quite at home.</p> + +<p>The music ceased temporarily and conversation took its place. Rosetta Muriel, +invited to lay aside her hat, declined with dignity and commented on the +weather. After full justice had been done to that serviceable theme, Peggy +introduced another.</p> + +<p>“We’ve met such a nice girl several times when we’ve been +picking berries. I suppose you know her?–Lucy Haines.”</p> + +<p>“I know who you mean,” replied Rosetta Muriel coldly. “She +ain’t in society, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Not in–”</p> + +<p>“Not in society,” firmly repeated Rosetta Muriel. “She used +to come to my house sometimes, but that was before I came out. After you come +out <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> you’ve got +to be more careful about who you associate with.”</p> + +<p>An awestruck silence followed the enunciation of this social law, and Rosetta +Muriel addressed herself to Priscilla, whose aristocratic bearing seemed to +impress her favorably. “Do you know Mrs. Sidney Dillingham?”</p> + +<p>Priscilla stared at this familiar mention of one of the society leaders in +her own city. “Why, I never met her, if that’s what you mean. I know +her by sight. I’ve seen her at several concerts.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you know she’s entertaining Sir Albert Driscoll at her +Newport house this summer. Quite a feather in her cap, ain’t +it?”</p> + +<p>Priscilla replied with a gasp that she supposed it was, and looked +appealingly at Peggy. Peggy’s responsive attempt to bring the conversation +back to normal levels, proved quite unsuccessful. Rosetta Muriel was determined +to impress her new acquaintances with her knowledge of customs of the Four +Hundred, and indeed it was evident that she had studied the society columns of +the New York papers, with an industry worthy a better cause. Peggy at length +grew desperate.</p> + +<p>“As long as it’s Fourth of July, wouldn’t it be <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> nice to sing some +patriotic songs? You can play ‘America,’ can’t you, +Jerry?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess,” said Jerry, with unfeigned relief, and he struck +a resounding chord. After Rosetta Muriel, and the atmosphere of tawdry pretense +surrounding her, it was a relief to every one to launch into the splendid +words,</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>“My country, ’tis of thee.”</p> </div><!-- poetry --> + +<p>Amy, who did not know one tune from another, sang at the top of her voice. +Aunt Abigail hummed the air in a cracked soprano, with traces of bygone +sweetness. Priscilla’s silvery notes soared flute-like above the others, +and even Rosetta Muriel joined after a brief hesitation, probably due to her +uncertainty as to whether this was customary in the best society, on the +occasion of a formal call.</p> + +<p>“That went splendidly,” declared Peggy, her face aglow, when the +last verse had filled the room with melody. “Now, what about ‘The Star +Spangled Banner?’ Can you play that, Jerry? It’s a lot harder than +the other.”</p> + +<p>“You bet it’s harder, but I can play it all right.” Jerry +instantly proved his boast by striking the introductory chords, winding up with +an ambitious flourish. “Now,” he said, with a nod, and the <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> chorus burst out lustily, +Priscilla’s voice leading.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>“O, say, can you see by the dawn’s early light,<br /> What so +proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming.”</p> </div><!-- +poetry --> + +<p>The chorus, strong on the first line, weakened on the second. Priscilla sang +through the third alone, and then came to a full stop. Jerry drummed a few +further chords, and broke off to demand, “What’s the +matter?”</p> + +<p>“Why, I’ve forgotten just how that goes,” cried Priscilla. +“What is the next, anyway?”</p> + +<p>After a protracted struggle, in which each girl racked her memory and +contributed such fragments as she could recall, four lines were patched into +comparative completeness. But, beyond this, their allied efforts could not carry +them. For the second time that day, Peggy included herself in her stern +denunciation.</p> + +<p>“It’s perfectly appalling. We didn’t know how many states +there were, we didn’t know about the stripes on the flag, and now we +don’t know ‘The Star Spangled Banner.’ It’s a disgrace. Not a +single person in this room knows ‘The Star Spangled Banner.’”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span>“I +do,” said Jerry Morton.</p> + +<p>“Oh, all right. You can teach it to the rest of us, then,” +declared Peggy, and for the next hour the drilling went forward relentlessly. +The company repeated each verse in chorus till there was no sign of doubt or +hesitation, and then sang it through. When the verses had been mastered +separately, the entire song was rendered with telling effect. Aunt Abigail +clapped her hands.</p> + +<p>“I’ve often wondered why the English and the Germans were so much +better posted on their national songs than we are. If all patriotic young +Americans took this sensible way of spending a rainy Fourth of July, our critics +would have one less arrow in their quiver.”</p> + +<p>The afternoon was well advanced, and Rosetta Muriel rose to make her +farewells, expressing an enjoyment which was perhaps a concession to her sense +of propriety, rather than a perfectly spontaneous expression of feeling. Rosetta +Muriel found the girls of Dolittle Cottage strangely puzzling. She had prepared +herself to meet these city visitors on their own ground, and instead of holding +her own, she had it all her own way. Apparently she was the only one of the +company who could claim with any show of reason, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> to be an authority on the doings of the +smart set.</p> + +<p>After supper, while the rain still pounded unweariedly on the roof, Aunt +Abigail told the story of a high-spirited young ancestress, who had lived back +in the colonial times, and in the stirring days of ’76 had pitted her wits +against one of King George’s officers, and won from him a concession which +was perhaps equally a tribute to her beauty and her brains. It was one of the +stories which cannot be re-told too often, full of the audacious courage of +gallant youth, and the listening girls felt a vicarious pride in the daring of +their countrywoman of bygone days. As for Amy, she straightened herself so as to +give the effect of having grown suddenly taller.</p> + +<p>“<i>My</i> ancestress,” she observed with fitting pride. +“How many times my great-grandmother was she, Aunt Abigail? It’s no +wonder I’m a little out of the ordinary.”</p> + +<p>In spite of a disheartening beginning, it had been a very satisfactory +Fourth. Up-stairs, as the girls made ready for bed, Ruth voiced the general +opinion. “For a safe and sane Fourth, it hasn’t been half +bad.”</p> + +<p>Peggy who had crossed the hall, to combine sociability <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> with the ceremony of taking down her +hair, brushed her refractory locks with energy.</p> + +<p>“I wish they’d never tacked that on to the Fourth of July,” +she said. “So many things are safe and sane, darning stockings, for +instance. The Fourth of July ought to be a lot more. It ought to be jolly, and +to teach you something, and make you think. And this Fourth has come pretty near +all three.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span><a id='link_6'></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE PICNIC</span></h2> + +<p>Though the Fourth of July picnic had failed to materialize, it was +responsible for turning the thoughts of the girls in a new direction. In the +beginning of their stay the cottage porch with its shading vines and inspiring +view, had satisfied them completely, but the magic of the word +“picnic” had awakened a longing to come a little closer to the heart +of things.</p> + +<p>“I’m tired of eating off a table,” Amy declared. “I +want to sit on the grass, and pick ants out of my sandwiches, and feel as if I +was really in the country. What’s the matter with a picnic?”</p> + +<p>As far as could be gathered, nothing was the matter with this time-honored +festivity, and plans and preparations began. The latter were on a somewhat less +elaborate scale than those undertaken in honor of the Fourth, partly because +Peggy, who easily ranked as chief cook, had undertaken to find a desirable +picnic-ground and secure a suitable vehicle for transporting the party. The +double responsibility <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_91'></a>91</span> proved engrossing, and the cooking which went on in +her absence was less inspirational in its character, and certainly less +successful, than when Peggy was at the helm.</p> + +<p>As Farmer Cole’s carry-all could not accommodate the party, a farm +wagon with three seats, and abundant space for baskets, was put at their +disposal, along with two horses of sedate and chastened mien. But Peggy looked +at them askance. Peggy laid no claim to skill in horsemanship, and though lack +of confidence was not one of her failings, she would almost as readily have +undertaken to manage a team of giraffes, as this stolid pair, with their +ruminative eyes, and drooping heads.</p> + +<p>“I–I don’t suppose they’re likely to run away, are +they?” questioned Peggy, making a brave effort to speak with +nonchalance.</p> + +<p>Joe, to whom the question was addressed, grinned broadly.</p> + +<p>“If you can make ’em run,” he replied, “by licking +’em or scaring ’em or anything else, I’ll see you get a medal. +Why, Bess here is twenty-three years old.” He struck the animal a +resounding smack upon the flank which demonstration caused Bess to prick one ear +reflectively. “Her frisky days are <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_92'></a>92</span> over,” continued Joe, “and Nat +ain’t much better. A baby in arms could drive ’em.”</p> + +<p>In spite of such encouraging assurances, Peggy did not feel at all certain of +her ability to manage the double team on hilly country roads. Priscilla’s +father kept a horse, it was true, but he was a rather spirited animal, and +neither Priscilla nor her mother ever attempted to drive him. +“They’ll all insist on my driving,” thought Peggy, as she +turned her face toward Dolittle Cottage. “And what if I should drive into +a gully and spill them out? I’ve half a mind to go back and see if Mr. +Cole can possibly spare Joe.”</p> + +<p>But before Peggy had time to retrace her steps, a somewhat familiar figure +came into view at the turn of the road, a girl in a sunbonnet, with a tin pail +in either hand. Peggy hurried forward to greet her, rejoicing in a possible +solution of her problem.</p> + +<p>“Oh, good afternoon. Do you know how to drive?”</p> + +<p>Lucy Haines looked as surprised as if she had been questioned as to her +ability to button her own shoes. “Why, of course,” she answered +staring.</p> + +<p>“I thought so. Then don’t you want to go on a picnic with us +to-morrow and drive the horses? <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_93'></a>93</span> Joe says a baby could manage them, but I don’t +feel equal to it, and I’m sure the other girls won’t. If +you’ll come,” added Peggy with sudden inspiration, +“we’ll have a berry-picking bee, and all fall to and help you, to +make up for your squandering a day on us.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you wouldn’t have to do that,” protested Lucy; +“I’d love to go if I could really help you.”</p> + +<p>With all her powers of intuition, Peggy was far from guessing what her +impulsive invitation meant to this ambitious girl whose life had been +pathetically bare of pleasure. The girls of Dolittle Cottage would have been +vastly surprised had they known how carefree and opulent they seemed to Lucy, +whose rapt absorption in the task of realizing her ambition involved the danger +that she would forget how to enjoy herself. Had Peggy’s invitation come in +any other way, the chances are that Lucy would have declined it, her sensitive +pride rendering her suspicious of kindnesses uncalled-for, from her point of +view. It was quite another matter when she was asked to do a favor.</p> + +<p>A team and a responsible driver having been secured for the morrow, Peggy +returned to the cottage highly elated over her success, and lent her aid to the +disheartened cooks. When Joe drove the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_94'></a>94</span> plodding team up to the cottage on the following +morning, the array of baskets on the porch promised satisfaction for the +appetites of double the number awaiting his coming. Lucy Haines sat in the +hammock beside Peggy, her sunbonnet replaced by a little black hat, which had +done service through the dust of many summers, and originally was better suited +for a woman of fifty than a girl of seventeen. Peggy studying this new +friend’s clear-cut profile and fresh coloring, could not help wondering +how Lucy would look in a really girlish costume. She was of the opinion that +under such circumstances she would be actually pretty.</p> + +<p>“Fine morning for your shindig,” remarked Joe, who had long +before lost all traces of bashfulness in Peggy’s presence. +“Don’t you get them horses to speeding, now, so’s you’ll +be arrested for fast driving.” He chuckled gleefully over this +thunder-bolt of wit, and bethought himself to add, “How’s your +chickens coming on?”</p> + +<p>“Why, it isn’t time for them to hatch for ten days yet. The old +hen has broken three of the eggs. Don’t you think that is pretty +clumsy?”</p> + +<p>“Clumsy, if it ain’t worse. You’d better keep an eye on +her. Sometimes they break their eggs a-purpose just to eat ’em.” And +having opened <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +Peggy’s eyes to the dark perfidy possible to the nature of the yellow hen, +Joe departed whistling, and the gay party climbed aboard. Peggy sat on the front +seat with Lucy, Dorothy snuggling between them, and reflected on the surprising +distance from the seat to the ground, and on the appalling size of the clumsy +hoofs of the farmhorses. She was glad Lucy was on hand to take up the lines with +such a business-like air, and that the responsibility of driving did not devolve +on herself.</p> + +<p>The picnic-grounds Mrs. Cole had especially recommended were several miles +away, though the winding road on either hand gave such charming glimpses of +shady groves, with sunlight filtering through the leaves, and of a placid river, +with silver birches all along its bank, like nymphs who had come down to the +water to drink, that it really seemed as if almost any place where they cared to +stop would be an admirable picnic-ground. But Lucy appealed to, agreed with Mrs. +Cole, that Day’s Woods were worth the drive, and the horses plodded on, +now stimulated to a trot, by Lucy’s exertions, but dropping into a walk +again as soon as she relaxed her efforts.</p> + +<p>As the day had all of July’s brightness with an exhilarating tang in +the breeze, not always characteristic <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_96'></a>96</span> of this sultry month, nobody was in a hurry. And, in +spite of the deliberate progress of the team, and the fact that the springs of +the wagon left something to be desired, it was hardly a welcome surprise when +Lucy suddenly turned the horses up a rough bit of road, climbing the hill with +such ambitious directness that several muffled screams sounded from the rear of +the wagon, and Dorothy clutched Peggy’s arm, evidently under the +impression that she was likely to go over backward.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right,” Lucy explained hastily, suppressing a +smile at indications of alarm so unaccountable from her standpoint. +“It’s a little steep, but we’ll be at the top in a +minute.” Indeed, Bess and Nat, laying aside the lassitude which throughout +the drive had momentarily suggested the possibility of their deciding to lie +down, struggled bravely up the slope.</p> + +<p>“Here we are,” announced Lucy, as the wagon jolted over a stump +still standing in the road, and turned to the left under a sentinel oak whose +low-growing branches seemed to be reaching for trophies in the shape of hats or +locks of hair. “This is the place at last.” As a matter of fact, +Day’s Woods needed no voucher. Now that they were <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> on the spot, the girls were positive that +no other place would have satisfied them.</p> + +<p>The wagon had halted on a stretch of partially cleared pasture where the +early summer flowers were much in evidence. Not far away was a splendid grove, +chestnuts mingling with oak and maple, and the trees far enough apart so that +the grass had a chance to flourish at their roots. The pleasant sound of running +water, without which no landscape is complete, rose from a ravine to the right, +its rocky sides feathered with delicate ferns. With little shrieks of rapture, +the girls ran from one point of beauty to another, while Lucy unharnessed, her +efforts supplemented by willing, though awkward assistance on Peggy’s +part.</p> + +<p>Contrary to the habit of most picnic parties, which eat on arriving at their +destination, regardless of the hour, the delights of exploration for a time +rendered these picnickers oblivious to the clamorous voice of appetite. It was +Dorothy who first turned the thoughts of the company in the more practical +direction by announcing plaintively, “My stomach is so hungry that it +hurts, Aunt Peggy. I wish I had the teentiest bit of a sandwidge.”</p> + +<p>“Poor dear,” cried Peggy, “I believe I’m hungry +myself.” And then with surprising unanimity, each <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> picnicker from Aunt Abigail down, +declared herself on the verge of starvation. The big baskets were taken from the +wagon, a red and white checked table-cloth spread upon the grass, and various +appetizing viands set out in order. From one of the springs which sent a +trickling tribute down the sides of the ravine to the brook below, water was +brought for the lemonade.</p> + +<p>Lucy Haines, who had lent deft assistance, had barely seated herself upon the +grass, before she was on her feet again. “The sun’s got at poor old +Bess already,” she said, as Peggy glanced up inquiringly. +“I’ll have to tie her in the shade, or I can’t enjoy my +luncheon.”</p> + +<p>Bess, who was gazing on the landscape with lack-lustre eyes, submitted to be +led into the shade of a big maple, without evidencing any especial appreciation +of Lucy’s thoughtfulness. Lucy tied the halter to the snake fence, and +returned to the group on the grass, who were already justifying their claims +regarding their appetite by an indiscriminate slaughter of sandwiches.</p> + +<p>“After we’ve eaten–I don’t want you to look like a +row of Indian famine sufferers–I’m going to take a picture of the +crowd,” announced Amy. “Don’t you think it’s nice to +have little souvenirs <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_99'></a>99</span> of such good times? Pass the stuffed eggs to Lucy, +somebody. She hasn’t eaten anything.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve made a pretty good beginning, I think,” said Lucy +with the grave smile which made her seem a score of years older than her +light-hearted companions. She helped herself to an egg, and immediately dropped +it on the table-cloth and sprang to her feet. “Oh, dear!” she +exclaimed in a tone of consternation.</p> + +<p>The others rose as hastily. Farmer Cole’s Bess was stamping +frantically, and pulling on her halter in a way that bore eloquent testimony to +the stability of Lucy’s knots.</p> + +<p>“I’ve tied her close to a hornets’ nest,” explained +Lucy, her voice still indicating dismay. “She’s stamped about and +stirred them up. Well, there’s only one thing to do. She’s got to be +untied before things are any worse.”</p> + +<p>“Wait!” Peggy had seized her arm. “If you go over there +you’ll get stung.”</p> + +<p>“But if we leave her alone, she’ll plunge around, and as likely +as not she’ll be stung to death.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going with you. Perhaps I can keep the hornets off while you +untie her. What can I fight them with? Oh, look! This box cover will be just the +thing.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span>“I’m +going, too,” said Priscilla quietly. Claire uttered a stifled shriek and +caught her friend’s arm protestingly. Priscilla shook her off.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be silly,” she said sharply. “Do let me alone, +Claire. Now where’s that other box cover?” She snatched it up and +ran in pursuit of the intrepid pair advancing toward the animated scene under +the maple-tree.</p> + +<p>“I really think we ought to get further away,” said Ruth in +alarm. “Oh, hush, Dorothy!” For Dorothy who had felt the contagion +of the general excitement, and whose fears were complicated by a harrowing +uncertainty as to whether a hornet might not be distantly related to a bear, had +burst into noisy weeping.</p> + +<p>The desirability of retreat had presented itself forcefully to the others. +Claire, in spite of her anxiety over Priscilla’s fate, was not averse to +getting further away from the scene of the combat, and Aunt Abigail was already +hurrying toward the woods, with an agility which discredited her claim to having +long passed the prescribed three-score years and ten.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you coming, Amy?” Ruth cried, seizing the weeping +Dorothy by the hand. “What are you waiting for?” She turned her +head, and for a <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +moment stood transfixed, as if astonishment had produced a temporary +paralysis.</p> + +<p>“Amy Lassell,” she choked, “I–I think you’re +just heartless.”</p> + +<p>Instead of joining in the retreat, or lending aid to the attacking party, Amy +had snatched up her camera, and was bending over the finder in an absorption +which rendered her quite oblivious to Ruth’s denunciation. She was, +indeed, excusable for thinking that the scene under the maple would make a +spirited and unusual photograph. Old Bess was rearing and plunging with a +coltish animation quite inconsistent with the dignity of her twenty-three years. +Priscilla and Peggy, armed with the tin covers of the boxes which had contained +the cake and sandwiches, were striking wildly at the advance guard of the hornet +army. And Lucy, in her efforts to get at the halter, without coming in contact +with Bess’s heels or being seriously stung, was dodging about in a fashion +calculated to awaken despair in the breast of a photographer.</p> + +<p>“If only they would stand still a minute,” groaned Amy, too +absorbed in her undertaking seriously to consider the consequences of a literal +fulfilment of her wish. But apparently nothing was further from the thought of +those participating in <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_102'></a>102</span> the pantomime than standing still. The hornets, +stirred to activity by Bess’s incautious stamping close to their quarters, +were rising like sparks from a bonfire. Bess was making a spectacular though not +altogether successful effort to stand on her head, while the agility displayed +by Peggy and Priscilla would have gratified their teacher of gymnastics in the +high school, had she been present to witness the performance.</p> + +<p>Before Lucy was able to reach the fence, the hitching strap had given away +under the unusual strain, sending old Bess to her knees. But with no trace of +the stiffness of age, she was up in an instant and galloping across the pasture, +a number of enraged hornets in hot pursuit. At the crucial moment Amy’s +finger pressed the button, thus preserving a record of a fact which needed to be +substantiated by even more convincing evidence than the testimony of eight +disinterested witnesses. Now that it was no longer a question of Bess’s +safety, the courageous trio who had gone to her rescue, betook themselves to +flight.</p> + +<p>At the edge of the woods they reconnoitred. The hornets had apparently given +up the pursuit and were circling about their endangered castle, ready to sound +the alarm in case of hostile approach. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_103'></a>103</span> Considering that they had advanced into the +enemy’s camp, so to speak, the girls had come off very well. Lucy had been +stung twice, to be sure, and Peggy once, while Priscilla’s right eye was +rapidly closing in testimony to the effectiveness of the dagger thrusts of the +vindictive little warriors. But it might easily have been much worse.</p> + +<p>Claire, who had rushed forward to greet the returning heroines, put her hands +before her eyes at the sight of Priscilla’s unsymmetrical countenance. +“You’re hurt,” she shrieked. “Oh, do you suppose +you’ll be blind?”</p> + +<p>“Blind! What nonsense,” returned Priscilla brusquely. “The +sting is right over my eyebrow.” But the reassuring statement failed to +appease Claire’s apprehensions. After inquiring hysterically of each of +the company in turn, as to the probability that Priscilla would lose her sight, +Claire succumbed to tears, and for twenty minutes absorbed the attention of the +picnic party. Priscilla, it must be confessed, stood somewhat aloof, confining +her assistance to remarking at intervals that something, not defined, was too +silly for words. But the others were more sympathetic and in course of time +Claire’s sobs became gradually less violent, and leaning against +Peggy’s shoulder, she was able to <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_104'></a>104</span> say faintly that she was sorry to be so foolish and +upset everything.</p> + +<p>“Where’d <i>you</i> get stung?” demanded Dorothy, who, now +that her earlier fears were assuaged, was inclined to look upon the excitement +as a pleasing variation on the hackneyed forms of entertainment. Then, without +waiting for an answer, “Aunt Peggy, do you s’pose those hornets have eated +up all that nice gingerbread?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, our luncheon!” Peggy cried. “I’d forgotten that +we hadn’t more than started. Let’s bring everything up here and +finish in peace.”</p> + +<p>Leaving Claire to the ministrations of Dorothy and Aunt Abigail, the others +started off to put Peggy’s suggestion into execution, Lucy walking at +Peggy’s side. “I’m awfully sorry I spoiled your picnic,” +she said in a constrained voice.</p> + +<p>“Spoiled the picnic? You?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it was all my fault, for tying Bess so near that hornets’ +nest. I suppose I should have been more careful, but the bushes were thick all +around it, and I never noticed.”</p> + +<p>Peggy patted her arm reassuringly. “It wasn’t your fault a bit, +and the picnic isn’t spoiled. We’ve time for lots of fun yet, and +besides, little exciting things like this rather add spice. When we go home +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span> and tell about the +good times we’ve had, we’ll mention that hornets’ nest one of +the first things.”</p> + +<p>It was a cheerful view to be taken by a girl with a painful lump on her +arm–still swelling–as Lucy was in a position to appreciate. Yet +Peggy’s confidence was comforting, and Lucy helping to remove the remnants +of the picnic feast, to a safe distance from the restless hornets, was conscious +of an appreciable rise in spirits.</p> + +<p>The remainder of the day justified Peggy’s optimism. Bess was captured +at the further end of the pasture, where she was grazing placidly amid the +stumps, with nothing in her demeanor to suggest her brief relapse into youthful +agility. The girls picked flowers and ferns, explored the ravine and made +friendly advances to a family of gray squirrels who chattered angrily at them +from the boughs overhead, apparently under the impression that they were the +owners of the wood which these noisy human creatures were invading. Then they +drove home in the golden light of the sunset, and sang all the way. And Lucy +Haines carried into her dreams a memory of cheery friendliness and wholesome fun +which was a novelty in her staid and often sombre recollections.</p> + +<p>Joe only grinned when Peggy announced herself <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> as a candidate for the medal he had +promised. It was not till a week later, when the print which chronicled old +Bess’s display of spirit was exhibited, that he was convinced. He stood +with mouth open, and eyes distended, incredulity slowly giving way to +conviction.</p> + +<p>“Well, it <i>is</i> old Bess, galloping off like a two-year-old. You +must have fired off a cannon at her heels. Think of old Bess, legging it in that +style! That there picture had ought to be framed.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span><a id='link_7'></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE COTTAGE BESIEGED</span></h2> + +<p>Peggy was in high spirits. Ever since her first meeting with Lucy Haines she +had been haunted by a growing desire to find some practical way of showing her +sympathy for the hard-working, ambitious girl. With Peggy the longing to be +helpful was like hunger or thirst, a keen craving whose satisfaction brought a +pleasure equally keen.</p> + +<p>On the drive home after the picnic Peggy had questioned Lucy as to the price +she received for her berries, and Lucy’s answer had caused her to open her +eyes. “Why, that’s queer. We pay twice as much at home.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know. It’s the same way with farmers’ stuff. The +commission men get a big part of the profits,” Lucy explained.</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t seem fair when you have to stand hours in the hot sun +picking, and all they have to do is to set the boxes where folks will see them, +and they sell like hot cakes. Wouldn’t it be <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> nice–” Peggy stopped +abruptly, and gave herself up to formulating a delightful, and as it seemed to +her, a perfectly feasible plan, namely that a part of Lucy’s berries at +least, should be shipped directly to Friendly Terrace, and sold at the market +price, Lucy to receive the entire proceeds less the expense of +transportation.</p> + +<p>Tired as she was after the exertions and excitement of that eventful picnic, +Peggy could not sleep till she had written a letter to her mother describing her +brilliant scheme in detail. Two days later, the Rural Free Delivery wagon +brought encouraging news. Dick had canvassed the houses on both sides the +Terrace, and nearly every housekeeper had fallen in with Peggy’s plan. +Every one seemed pleased at the prospect of getting berries picked only the day +before, and Dick, in spite of his responsibilities as first baseman for the +Junior Giants, readily undertook to see that the fruit reached its various +destinations safely.</p> + +<p>But even now Peggy was not satisfied. “You see, girls,” she +explained to the interested circle around the supper-table, “it’s +just preserving time, and the Terrace folks will be glad to buy more berries +than Lucy can possibly pick. Let’s have a bee and help her out. She took a +day off to drive <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +us to the picnic, and it’s only fair that we should take a day to work for +her.”</p> + +<p>It was not necessary for Peggy to use her persuasive arts to induce the +others to agree to the plan. Berry-picking as an occupation had lost its charm +for most of them, but berry-picking with the generous purpose Peggy had +suggested, was quite another matter. After they had calculated Lucy’s +probable profits for a single day, if she could be sure of five or six volunteer +helpers, enthusiasm ran high. Claire’s pensive hope, voiced with a sigh, +that it wouldn’t be too blisteringly hot, was passed over without +comment.</p> + +<p>It was decided to carry a picnic luncheon to the berry pasture and have the +hearty meal of the day after their return. Aunt Abigail though heartily +approving the plan, begged off from joining the party. “Dorothy and I are +not quite old enough yet to be of much assistance,” she said with a funny +little grimace. “We lack the patience that will come with +years.”</p> + +<p>“But, Aunt Abigail,” Ruth protested, “you couldn’t +stay here all by yourself. You’d be lonely.”</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail’s laugh indicated derision. “It’ll be a +pleasant sensation. Why, you chatter-boxes keep things in such an uproar that I +haven’t had a <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_110'></a>110</span> chance for quiet, connected thought since I landed +here. Go along. I shall be glad to be rid of you.”</p> + +<p>The season for the red raspberries was nearly over, but the blackberries were +ripening fast. “My, but I’m glad they’re not +blueberries,” Amy confided to Peggy. “Think of picking a six-quart +pail full of shoe-buttons, or what amounts to that. Now, blackberries count +up.”</p> + +<p>The adage that many hands make light work was never better exemplified than +on that July day in the berry pasture. Even Lucy lost a little of her air of +stern resolution and found herself curiously observant of her surroundings, as +if she were regarding them through the unaccustomed eyes of girls who were city +bred. She even joined, though with all the awkwardness of a novice, in the gay +chatter which went on about the laden bushes. Lucy had always looked on picking +berries as a serious business, like life itself. She was a little astonished to +see these girls turning it into play, leavening it with laughter. Lucy had been +brought up on the saying, ‘duty first, pleasure afterward,’ though in her +particular case, duty engrossed the day so completely that pleasure was of a +necessity postponed to some indefinite future. It was a new <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> idea to her that the two might be +blended without injury to either.</p> + +<p>Hobo who had insisted on joining the party against Claire’s protests, +for she rather boasted of the fact that she was afraid of dogs, divided his +attention equally between Peggy and Dorothy. Peggy he adored, but he had an air +of feeling responsible for Dorothy, and as she scampered about the pasture, Hobo +followed her, not with any pretext of devotion, but much as a faithful +nurse-maid might have done. The girls laughed at his conscientious air as they +laughed at everything Dorothy said. It seemed to Lucy she had never seen people +who found so many things to laugh about. She wondered how it would seem if +gaiety were the habit of life instead of the rare exception.</p> + +<p>But though the berry-picking went on with none of the relentless haste which +would properly characterize contestants in a Marathon race, though blackened +lips gave convincing testimony that all the berries had not found their way into +the shining pails, though the incessant talk and almost incessant laughter were +suggestive of a flock of blackbirds, and though luncheon turned into a +protracted feast, which left only crumbs for the ants and squirrels, yet the +pails filled up before Lucy’s eyes. And <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_112'></a>112</span> when the declining July sun intimated that he for +one had done about enough for a day, the little group in the berry pasture had +reason to be well satisfied with their efforts.</p> + +<p>“Can’t you smell the blackberry jam cooking on Friendly Terrace +day after to-morrow?” demanded Peggy, as she stood beaming over the full +pails. “Haven’t we done splendidly?”</p> + +<p>All the others were in a mood equally jubilant. Lucy Haines looked from one +glowing face to another, and felt a queer tightening in the muscles of her +throat. It was not so much their help that touched her. She had been helping +other people all her life, in her grave, conscientious fashion. But she had +always thought of sympathy as a rather sombre thing, extended when some one died +in the family or on like sorrowful occasions. That day she saw it in a different +guise, smiling, radiant, something for which one could not say thank you, but +which warmed one’s heart through and through, nevertheless. She almost +forgot to count up what that berrying-bee would mean to her in dollars and +cents, it had meant so much more in other things.</p> + +<p>It was a noisy, talkative file of girls who having escorted Lucy to her home, +and left the back doorstep <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_113'></a>113</span> covered with berry pails, turned their faces toward +Dolittle Cottage. The day spent in the open air had made them hungry. Peggy was +invited to divulge her intentions concerning supper and her proposed <i>menu</i> +aroused enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“I wonder if Aunt Abigail has missed us?” remarked Ruth, who +hated above all things to be left alone for five minutes, so that her thoughts +had invested Aunt Abigail’s solitude with a pathos which the independent +old lady would have instantly resented.</p> + +<p>Amy took it on herself to answer. “No, indeed. That’s the best +thing about Aunt Abigail. She likes people and she’s always happy in a +crowd, but she’s never lonely when she’s by herself. If +there’s something around to read she wouldn’t mind if she +didn’t have anybody to speak to for a week.”</p> + +<p>Dolittle Cottage was in sight by now. The girls’ eyes scanned the porch +for a lounging figure absorbed in a book or magazine. “She isn’t +outside, is she?” remarked Peggy. “I hope she isn’t trying to +get supper.”</p> + +<p>“I hope so, too,” agreed Amy fervently. “I’ve tried +Aunt Abigail’s cooking once or twice.” Whether it was due to the +hope of arresting Aunt Abigail’s supper preparations, before they had gone +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> too far, or +because of some other undefined anxiety, the line advanced on the +double-quick.</p> + +<p>As they drew nearer the cottage, something peculiar in its appearance +gradually became evident. It had a forsaken look, such as it had presented on +the day of their arrival. Peggy was the first to discover the explanation of the +mysterious change.</p> + +<p>“Why, she’s got all the shutters closed!”</p> + +<p>Peggy was not mistaken. As a rule, every door and window in the cottage stood +wide open, except during heavy storms. Now its tightly shuttered windows and +closed doors gave it the look of being unoccupied.</p> + +<p>Surprise, and perhaps a vague, unformulated anxiety, had quickened the +lagging feet of the girls, so that when they came up the gravel walk leading to +the door of the cottage, they were almost running. Peggy who was a little in the +lead, was the first to reach the door. She turned the knob quickly, pushed till +she was red in the face, gave the door a sharp shake and then stood staring +blankly. “It’s locked!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“I’ll try the back door.” Amy started for the rear of the +cottage, but the nimble Priscilla was ahead of her, and when Amy came panting to +the back doorstep, met her with the startling news, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> “This is locked, too. Do you +suppose she’s gone away?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know where she’d go unless it was to borrow +something of Mrs. Snooks,” Amy though puzzled was not really anxious, as +she was only too familiar with Aunt Abigail’s eccentric possibilities. +“We’ll knock as hard as we can,” she suggested. “Maybe +she lay down to take a nap and overslept.”</p> + +<p>A vigorous tattoo began forthwith on the back door, to be reinforced +presently by the ringing of the front door bell. Had Aunt Abigail been a rival +of the celebrated Seven Sleepers the combined tumult would have been pretty sure +to arouse her. Priscilla and Amy at length desisted, and returning to the front +of the house, met the other girls coming to the rear. By this time every face +was anxious.</p> + +<p>“There’s just a chance that the woodshed door is open,” +said Peggy. “Though she’s locked everything up so carefully that I +don’t think it’s likely.” A moment’s investigation +showed that this door, too, was firmly bolted, and Peggy returned to the sober +girls grouped under the dining-room window. “She must have gone +somewhere,” Peggy said. “Do you suppose she could have got tired of +staying <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> here all +day by herself, and tried to find us in the pasture and lost her way?”</p> + +<p>The suggestion struck a little chill through the listeners. The locked house, +the setting sun, the mystery of Aunt Abigail’s disappearance had all +combined to dissipate their previous cheerfulness. In addition to their anxiety +about Aunt Abigail, certain unformulated doubts regarding their chances for +supper and bed, weighed upon their spirits.</p> + +<p>“Look!” cried Amy suddenly. “Look!” and pointed a +directing finger upward. The shutter of one of the bedroom windows was +conducting itself very strangely, now opening a trifle, and then slamming to as +if it had suddenly changed its mind. But presently it opened sufficiently wide +to give the watchers below a glimpse of snowy hair, arranged in a rather +elaborate combination of coils and puffs.</p> + +<p>“Aunt Abigail!” Amy shrieked, “oh, Aunt Abigail!” Her +cry was echoed by the voices of the others, Dorothy’s treble sounding +clearly above the rest. The shutter opened again, and an unmistakable Aunt +Abigail looked down.</p> + +<p>“Who’s there?”</p> + +<p>“Why, it’s us!” Grammatical accuracy ceases to be important +when people are tired and hungry, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_117'></a>117</span> and, if the truth must be confessed, a little out +of temper. “Do come down, and let us in.”</p> + +<p>“Are you sure there’s nobody else.”</p> + +<p>The girls looked over their shoulders. The gathering dark began to seem +unfriendly. Dorothy hid her face in Peggy’s skirts.</p> + +<p>“Why, of course there is nobody else here.” It was Amy who gave +the answer, though her statement ended in an interrogative upward note as if it +asked a question.</p> + +<p>“Then come to the front door.” Aunt Abigail’s head +disappeared and the shutter closed. A minute or two later the front door opened +just far enough to admit one girl at a time, and when a subdued procession had +filed in, it closed sharply, and was locked and bolted without an +instant’s delay.</p> + +<p>Every one realized that the situation was serious. “What’s +happened?” exclaimed several voices with anxious unanimity, while Peggy +hurried to light the lamp, the dreariness of the shuttered house proving +depressing to the spirits, as well as a practical inconvenience.</p> + +<p>“Girls!” Aunt Abigail spoke with the air of one who realizes the +importance of what she has to tell. “I have had a very singular experience +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> this afternoon. I +am not a timid woman, but I must confess I feel quite upset.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear! I felt all the time as though we shouldn’t go off and +leave you by yourself,” cried Ruth, and the old lady patted her hand as if +grateful for the impulsive outburst.</p> + +<p>“I got along very well the early part of the day. I found some +interesting books in the garret and read till nearly two. Then I made myself a +cup of tea, and after luncheon I thought I would take a nap. The screened doors +were shut and hasped, but the windows were all open. Any one could have entered +without difficulty.”</p> + +<p>Even on the memorable evening when she had entertained her listeners with +ghost stories, Aunt Abigail’s tones had not been more blood-curdling. The +girls listened with open mouths.</p> + +<p>“I was dreaming that I was captured by pirates, and one of them had put +me in a chest, along with some of their booty, and was nailing down the lid. +When I waked I could still hear the hammering, and for a moment I didn’t +know where I was. Then I realized that some one was knocking and I went to the +window, and called, ‘Who is it and what do you want?’ And instantly two +tramps appeared.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span>The girls +uttered an exclamation. “If only we’d left you Hobo,” Peggy +cried.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid he wouldn’t have been much protection against +two such ruffians. Each one of them carried a heavy stick, and I dare say they +were armed beside. As soon as I saw them, I called for them to go away, that I +had nothing for them, but they were bold enough to stay and argue the +point.”</p> + +<p>“What did they say, Aunt Abigail?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t ask me. I kept my self-possession perfectly, but at the +same time I was excited, and didn’t understand what they were saying. I +presume they were demanding food and money and I kept declaring that I would +give them nothing. At last they gave up and went off in the direction of Mrs. +Snooks, and then I rushed down-stairs and locked everything up just as you found +it.”</p> + +<p>It was clear that Aunt Abigail had found her experience trying. She was pale +and seemed very unlike her usual composed self. Conscience stricken over having +left her by herself, the girls petted her and asked innumerable questions, few +of which Aunt Abigail was able to answer. But she described her unwelcome +callers in detail, and Peggy found herself thinking that they bore more than a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> superficial +resemblance to the desperadoes of Treasure Island. She could not help wondering +if Aunt Abigail’s lively imagination, excited first by her reading, and +then by her vivid dream, had not added some touches to the picture.</p> + +<p>“Well, girls,” Peggy said at length, in a tone surprisingly +matter-of-fact considering the circumstances, “I guess supper is the next +thing in order. After we’ve had something to eat–”</p> + +<p>She stopped abruptly. A loud knocking at the back door echoed through the +cottage. Amy uttered a scream, clapping her hands over her mouth instantly, to +stifle the sound. The others instinctively moved closer to one another, +exchanging frightened glances. Hobo growled softly, the hair on his neck +bristling and giving him a peculiarly savage appearance.</p> + +<p>The knocking broke off for a moment, and then was resumed. +“They’ve come back,” said Aunt Abigail.</p> + +<p>“Why, perhaps it’s only Mrs. Snooks come to borrow +something,” Peggy was beginning hopefully, when out at the rear of the +cottage somebody laughed. Whatever the cause of the unseemly merriment, Mrs. +Snooks was not responsible for it. Peggy’s sudden anger went to her head. +She felt <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> as if she +had forgotten the meaning of fear. “I’m going to tell them,” +she exclaimed, “that if they don’t go away, I’ll set the dog +on them.”</p> + +<p>She marched out into the kitchen, Hobo following, and as she reached the +door, the knocking began for the third time. “If you don’t go +away,” shouted Peggy through the keyhole, “my dog–”</p> + +<p>A burst of laughter interrupted her. “Oh, come off, Peggy +Raymond,” cried a voice outside. “Open this door quick, if you know +what’s best for yourself.”</p> + +<p>Peggy’s cry of joy was echoed by a rapturous shriek from Ruth, for the +girls had courageously followed Peggy, as she advanced to hold parley with the +besiegers, with an air of resolute determination worthy of Joan of Arc. Peggy +fumbled at locks, bolts and catches, for Aunt Abigail had neglected no +precaution, and the instant the door was opened, Ruth threw herself into the +arms of a tall young fellow who walked in with the air of thinking that it was +high time for him to be accorded the privilege.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Graham, I never was so glad to see anybody! Some tramps scared us +almost to death.”</p> + +<p>“Tramps! Oh, nonsense!” returned Graham, with a collegian’s +instant readiness to belittle the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_122'></a>122</span> fears of his feminine relatives. “Come on in, +Jack. It seems to be safe. You know Jack Rynson,” he added over his +sister’s shoulder to Peggy, who nodded and turned to shake hands with +another young man, who seemed a little uncertain as to his welcome.</p> + +<p>But unmindful of her manners, Ruth was protesting. “It isn’t +nonsense, Graham. It’s true. Two tramps were here this afternoon, shouting +all kinds of threats at Aunt Abigail.”</p> + +<p>“Tramps,” repeated Graham, and glanced at his friend. “What +sort of looking chaps were they?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, perfectly villainous. And each one had a great club of some sort +and a bundle on his back.”</p> + +<p>Graham broke into a roar of laughter, in which Jack Rynson joined, though it +should be reckoned to the latter’s credit that he was making an evident +effort not to seem amused.</p> + +<p>“Talk of the journalistic imagination,” shouted Graham. +“Why, Jack, you newspaper fellows could get all sorts of points from these +girls. We were the tramps, Ruth. So much obliged for your kind comments on our +personal appearance.”</p> + +<p>Gradually Graham’s incredulous listeners were driven to accept his +assurance. The arrival of the two young men when Aunt Abigail’s thoughts +were <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> full of the +horrors of her dream, had led her to see the good-looking boys, equipped with +packs and walking sticks, in a most sinister light. The “tramps” +were taken into the front room and introduced, Hobo, who had all of a +dog’s intuitive suspicion of old clothes, sniffing disapprovingly at their +heels.</p> + +<p>The laugh was against Aunt Abigail as she herself owned. “I would have +taken my oath,” she remarked reflectively, “that one of you had only +one eye, and a scar that ran the length of his cheek. It shows that even if +I’m not as young as I was, my imagination is still active. But you had +packs on your backs. What has become of the clubs and packs?”</p> + +<p>Graham explained that they had taken rooms at a farmhouse a little way down +the road, and had left their belongings there. “We’re out for a long +tramp,” Graham explained. “We mean to make several stops of a few +days each, and we didn’t know any better place to begin than right +here.”</p> + +<p>“Are you staying with Mrs. Cole?” asked Peggy, and Graham shook +his head. “No, the name wasn’t Cole. It was–let’s +see.”</p> + +<p>Jack Rynson helped him out. “Snooks, I believe.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_124'></a>124</span>“That’s it, Mrs. Snooks,” agreed +Graham, and then looked about him astonished, for the entire company, including +Aunt Abigail, was helpless with laughter.</p> + +<p>“She’ll borrow your walking stick for a clothes pole,” said +Peggy, when she was able to speak, “and your pack for a footstool. +She’ll borrow everything you’ve got, and then be provoked because +you haven’t more.”</p> + +<p>It is a question whether anybody would have thought of supper if it had not +been for Dorothy, who retired into a corner to weep. Questioned regarding her +tears, she replied that she wanted her mother. “Homesick,” some one +said significantly.</p> + +<p>“Hungry!” cried Peggy, with one of her flashes of intuition. +“And what wonder! Just look at the clock! Girls, let’s see how quick +we can get something ready.”</p> + +<p>The meal though less ambitious than that which Peggy had originally planned, +was satisfying. And it was not till the next day that the girls learned that the +two young men who did such abundant justice to the bounty of Dolittle Cottage, +had eaten another supper at Mrs. Snooks, a little over an hour earlier.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span><a id='link_8'></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>HOBO TO THE RESCUE</span></h2> + +<p>Life at Dolittle Cottage had been anything but uneventful, even before the +arrival of Graham and his friend. But it must be confessed that the presence of +the two young men added appreciably to the agreeable excitements and diversions +of the days. For upwards of twenty-four hours the girls had maintained the +superiority of first arrivals, and then to their surprise, found the tables +turned and that they were being introduced to spots whose charms they had never +discovered, and to pleasures as yet untried.</p> + +<p>Jerry Morton bringing his fish as usual, looked askance at the two young +fellows, taking their ease in the porch hammocks, and received with marked +ungraciousness Peggy’s suggestion that he should act as their guide to +some point where the fishing was good.</p> + +<p>“I never could get on with swells,” said Jerry, with his +customary frankness. “Let ’em fish out <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> of your cistern. Them city dudes will +catch as much there as anywhere.”</p> + +<p>Peggy restrained her laughter with difficulty. It seemed rather hard that +Graham and Jack, attiring themselves in garments so old as barely to be +presentable should yet be designated by a term of such unbounded contempt. +Privately, Peggy thought Aunt Abigail had come nearer the mark, and that the +boys bore a more striking resemblance to tramps than to city dudes.</p> + +<p>Wisely she made no effort to defend her friends. “Of course, if you are +too busy,” she said indifferently, “we can make some other +arrangement. Perhaps Mr. Cole would spare Joe–”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ll take ’em,” interrupted Jerry, still +sulkily, though he looked a little ashamed of himself. “I’ll show +’em where the fish are, and if they come home with nothing but their +tackle, don’t blame me.”</p> + +<p>But the fishing excursion was more successful than Jerry’s gloomy hints +gave ground for anticipating. The boys brought back so many fish that thrifty +Peggy racked her brains to find ways of disposing of them all. Jerry, for his +part, carried home a new idea of “city dudes” and their ways. These +clear-eyed, clean-minded young fellows had <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_127'></a>127</span> not treated him as an inferior, nor had they +committed the offence still less pardonable, from Jerry’s standpoint, of +condescending to his level. As fishermen, too, they had showed no mean skill, +and from dislike and mistrust, Jerry had at length been brought to grudging +admiration and reluctant respect.</p> + +<p>The favorable impression was not all on one side, however. As Graham cleaned +his fish–the girls lightening his labors, by sitting around in an +appreciative circle–he suddenly checked his operations to exclaim: +“Say, do you know, that fellow’s a wonder!”</p> + +<p>“Who? Not Jerry Morton?” Ruth’s tone was rather +scandalized, for Ruth did not share Peggy’s faculty for finding all kinds +of people interesting, and had a not uncommon weakness for good clothes and +conventional manners.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jerry. Why, he’s a walking encyclopedia! He knows +everything about the trees and plants growing around here, except their +scientific names. And it’s the same way with birds. He’s learned it +all first-hand, instead of out of books, you see. His eyes and his ears too, are +as sharp as an Indian’s! Pity that there isn’t a better prospect of +his amounting to something.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span>Peggy was +delighted with the opportunity to discuss Jerry’s case with some one +inclined to appreciate the boy’s good qualities. “He’s got +started wrong,” she explained. “He’s not really lazy, but he +seems lazy to the people here. They think he’s worthless and he resents +that, and so he fancies he hates everybody. You see, he hasn’t any father +or mother. He lives with his grandmother and she–”</p> + +<p>“Dear me! How do you pick up so much about that sort of people?” +demanded Claire, suppressing a yawn rather unsuccessfully. Claire found such +topics of conversation far from entertaining, and was perfectly willing that +Peggy should realize this fact. But Peggy herself was too interested to suspect +that Claire was bored.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I asked Mrs. Cole about him,” she replied. “Graham, I +wish you’d talk to him if you get a chance, and try to wake up his +ambition. It’s a shame for such a bright boy to grow up with the +reputation of being a loafer.”</p> + +<p>Graham shook his head. “Guess I wouldn’t be much of a success as +a home missionary. You’d better try your hand on him yourself, +Peggy.”</p> + +<p>“Me? Oh, I do,” Peggy answered simply. “But, perhaps +he’d think more of it coming from <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_129'></a>129</span> a boy.” And Graham reaching for another fish, +reflected that a girl like Peggy Raymond could not even go away for a summer +vacation without framing innumerable little plots for helping people, with or +without their coöperation. Ruth had told him of the berrying-bee, and mentioned +casually that Peggy was going to give Lucy Haines lessons in algebra. At the +same time she was puzzling her head over the possibility of turning the +good-for-nothing of the community into a useful citizen. Humility was not +Graham’s dominant characteristic, but for the moment the popular young +collegian had a queer and uncomfortable sense of amounting to very little.</p> + +<p>Dorothy rescued him from this unwonted self-depreciation by bursting on the +scene with eyes distended to their widest. “Aunt Peggy, your old +hen’s scolding–and scolding.”</p> + +<p>“Now, Dorothy, you mustn’t go near her nest.”</p> + +<p>“I stood ’way off by the door and jus’ looked at her an’ +she talked as cross as anything.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I wonder–What day is it, anyway?” Peggy disappeared +through the open door of the woodshed, to have her jubilant suspicions instantly +confirmed. The yellow hen was in a mood of extreme agitation, and a shrill +peeping from beneath <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_130'></a>130</span> her ruffled feathers furnished the explanation of +her disquiet.</p> + +<p>Peggy herself was hardly more composed, and her excitement was contagious. +All plans for the remainder of the afternoon were instantly forgotten till +Peggy’s chickens should be ushered from their egg-shell prison-houses into +the world of sunshine. Peggy had fortified herself against this hour by asking +advice of Mrs. Cole and Joe, and all the other experts in the neighborhood, but +now she realized the appalling gulf between theory and practise. The demeanor of +the yellow hen convinced her that everything was going wrong, and she felt +pathetically unequal to doing ever so little toward making it come right.</p> + +<p>Yet, in spite of Peggy’s forebodings, one chicken after another was +rescued from beneath the wings of the perturbed foster-mother, and placed in a +carefully prepared basket set behind the kitchen stove. The girls, eager for a +peep at the new arrivals, failed to wax enthusiastic after their curiosity had +been satisfied. Amy voiced the general disappointment when she said regretfully, +“I hadn’t an idea they looked like that to start with. I thought +they’d be fluffy and cute, like the chickens on Easter cards.” +Peggy, who had herself found <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_131'></a>131</span> the appearance of the wobbly, shrill-voiced mites a +distinct shock, said bravely that they would undoubtedly be prettier when they +were older.</p> + +<p>After six chickens had been placed in the basket, silence reigned in the +nest. The yellow hen settled down on her remaining eggs, emitting, at intervals, +an agitated cluck. Peggy vibrated between the woodshed and the covered basket +behind the stove, like an erratic pendulum. The other girls, weary at last of +waiting for more chickens, trooped to the living-room, and Graham, who like many +young gentlemen of twenty, could on occasion conduct himself like a boy half +that age, sought to create a diversion by tickling his sister.</p> + +<p>Ruth was agonizingly sensitive to this form of torture. A forefinger extended +with a threatening waggle was sufficient to rob her of every vestige of +self-control, while the play of her brother’s fingers over her ribs +reduced her instantly to grovelling submission. To do Graham justice, he was +quite unable to appreciate the fact that this pastime cost Ruth real suffering. +He would have put his hand into the fire before he would have struck his sister, +yet he frequently subjected her to misery compared to which a blow would have +been welcome.</p> + +<p>With a sudden freakish reversion to the prankishness <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> of a growing boy, Graham pointed his +finger at Ruth, who instantly screamed. The girls looking on, laughed, and there +was some excuse for their amusement. The spectacle of the sensible Ruth, +shrinking and shrieking over nothing more alarming than an agitated forefinger, +was ridiculous enough to be funny. Graham, encouraged by the laughter, took a +step toward his sister who instantly burst into incoherent appeals and +protests.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Graham, please, Graham! Oh, dear! Oh! Oh! Oh!”</p> + +<p>Hobo, lying on the porch outside, leaped to his feet. Hobo keenly felt the +responsibility of the family he had adopted. He subjected all new arrivals to a +careful scrutiny which marked him sufficiently as the guardian of the household. +But never before in his three weeks of domesticity, had the need for his +services seemed as urgent as now.</p> + +<p>Barking excitedly, Hobo ran to the nearest window, raised himself on his +hind-legs, his forepaws resting on the outer sill, and looked in. The scene +which met his eyes confirmed his worst suspicions. Ruth, standing in the middle +of the room, cowered and pleaded, while the teasing brother prolonged the fun by +touching her lightly now and then, finding her writhing protests eminently +diverting.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span>Outside, Hobo +barked his warning. The girls turned to the window and the laughter broke out +afresh. The dog’s eyes shone with a bluish light, like burnished steel. +The hair on his neck bristled threateningly. As Graham looked up, Hobo’s +upper lip drew back in a menacing fashion, showing his teeth.</p> + +<p>“That dog would be an ugly customer in a fight,” remarked Graham +casually, not averse to teasing a barking dog as well as a screaming girl. He +caught Ruth by the arm as she edged away, and tickled her again. Ruth’s +responsive shriek was ear-splitting.</p> + +<p>Hobo’s head disappeared from the window. The dog ran back, crouching +for a spring. Unluckily the screen had been removed from that particular window +the previous day, when Peggy had discovered a break through which the flies were +entering, and the window itself had been lowered till the necessary repairs +could be made. Just as Graham was beginning to think that the fun was losing its +zest, a heavy body launched itself against the glass.</p> + +<p>Hobo was a large dog, and since he had become a member of the family at +Dolittle Cottage the hollows of his gaunt frame had been filling out rapidly. +With such a projectile hurled against a window, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_134'></a>134</span> the result could not be in doubt. There was a +startling crash. Pieces of glass flew in all directions, and Hobo, bleeding from +several wounds, struggled through the splintered aperture made by the force of +his spring, and leaped at the young man who had disturbed the peace of the +cottage.</p> + +<p>For all Hobo’s injuries, there was plenty of fight in him yet, and the +consequences might have been serious if Peggy had not arrived upon the scene at +the critical moment. Her stern command, “Down, Hobo! Down, sir!” +emphasized by stamps of her foot had a magical effect. The poor, bleeding, +bewildered creature, who had stopped at nothing to protect a member of the +household which commanded his fealty, recognized in Peggy the ultimate +authority. The tense muscles, bent for a spring, instantly relaxed. The lip +dropped over the bared teeth. With a whimper the poor brute crouched at +Peggy’s feet, and Peggy saw with sickened dismay that the blood was oozing +from gashes in the dog’s neck.</p> + +<p>“Graham!” she gasped. “Oh, Graham! He’s hurt! +He’s bleeding dreadfully!”</p> + +<p>Graham’s temporary lapse into the sins of his youth was over. He was +again a young college man, and thoroughly ashamed of himself. The <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> amusement he had found +in teasing Ruth suddenly seemed inexplicable, in view of this tragic +culmination. Flushing and awkward, he stood looking on while Peggy bent over the +wounded dog, unable to restrain her tears. But when she attempted to remove a +splinter of glass from the gash for which it was responsible, Graham uttered a +startled protest.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t try that, Peggy. He’s likely to bite +you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he won’t bite me,” Peggy returned confidently. +“He knows I’m his friend, don’t you, poor old fellow?” +Hobo, realizing that the loved voice was addressing him, even though the trend +of the question was beyond his comprehension, gave a feeble flop of his tail, +and raised to Peggy’s face eyes full of loyalty and trust.</p> + +<p>The living-room became a hospital forthwith. Those of the girls who were +affected with unpleasant qualms at the sight of blood, fled precipitately, while +the others lent aid to Peggy, who had taken upon herself the double rôle of +operating surgeon and chief nurse. Several ugly splinters of glass were removed +from the bleeding neck, and the wounds bathed and bandaged. Graham’s +usefulness in the operation was confined to offering advice; <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> for once, when he had +extended his hand to assist Peggy, the light of battle had again kindled in +Hobo’s eyes, and a low, rumbling growl had voiced his objections to any +ministrations from so objectionable a source.</p> + +<p>When Peggy’s patient was swathed in bandages, till he looked as if he +might be suffering from a severe attack of sore throat, Peggy called him out +into the woodshed, where an inviting bed had been made ready for him. Hobo +stretched himself upon the folded rug with a groan startlingly human. It was +clear that the loss of blood had weakened him, and his gaze directed to Peggy +was full of pathetic questioning and dumb appeal.</p> + +<p>“I believe I’ll run over to the Coles, and ask them if there is +anything more we can do,” Peggy said, looking as unhappy as she felt. +“They know so much about all kinds of animals. I’ve taken care of +Taffy in his attacks of distemper, and once he had a dreadful fight with another +dog, and came home all torn. But he didn’t bleed like this.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll walk over with you,” said Graham, only too ready to +show his penitence, and Dorothy, who had an innate antipathy to being left +behind, also proffered her services as escort.</p> + +<p>Accordingly the trio set forth, Dorothy declining <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> to follow the path but circling around +the others, like an erratic planet, revolving about twin suns. Graham, who felt +personally responsible for the shadow clouding Peggy’s bright face, lost +no time in apologizing.</p> + +<p>“Peggy, it’s a shame for me to upset things so. You’ll all +wish that we had got discouraged over Mrs. Tyler’s reception, and gone on +without stopping.”</p> + +<p>“Why, no, Graham,” Peggy protested. “Nobody could have +dreamed that anything like this would happen.”</p> + +<p>Graham was not in a mood to spare himself. “Perhaps not, but there +wasn’t any excuse for teasing poor Ruth almost into hysterics. It’s +the kind of fun a red Indian might be expected to enjoy.”</p> + +<p>Peggy was so inclined to agree with this diagnosis that she found it +impossible to be as comforting as she would have liked. “I often wonder +how it is that we all think teasing is fun,” she said. “Girls are +just as bad as boys. In fact, I think their kind of teasing is even more cruel +sometimes. It’s queer, when we stop to think of it, that anybody can get +real satisfaction out of making some one else miserable, or even +uncomfortable.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_138'></a>138</span>“It’s beastly,” Graham declared +with feeling. “I’m going to stop teasing Ruth, that’s sure. It +seems so ridiculous to have her scream and wriggle if I point my finger at her, +that I can’t realize that it isn’t all a joke. But, I suppose, it is +serious enough from her point of view, and I’m going to quit.”</p> + +<p>The walk to Farmer Cole’s, enlivened by similar expressions of +penitence and good resolutions, was a very edifying excursion, and Peggy, in her +sympathy for Graham, almost forgot her anxiety concerning Hobo. She was further +relieved when the case was laid before Farmer Cole.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’ll get over it all right,” said that authority +encouragingly. “Being a cur dog, that way. Now, if you buy a highbred +animal, and pay a fancy price, it goes under at the least little thing. Never +knew it to fail. But to kill a cur, you’ve got to blow him up with +dynamite.”</p> + +<p>“But they <i>do</i> die,” objected Peggy, who found it difficult +to accept the farmer’s optimistic view, much as she wished to.</p> + +<p>“Old age,” said Farmer Cole. “That’s all. A few +scratches like that ain’t going to hurt a cur. But I paid through my nose +for a blooded colt a few years back, and ’twarn’t a week before <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span> he cut himself on barbed +wire, and bled to death.”</p> + +<p>“It won’t do any harm for her to use some of the salve,” +said Mrs. Cole, and went to her medicine closet in search of the remedy. Rosetta +Muriel smoothed her hair, with a motion that set her bracelets jingling, and +cast a provocative glance at Graham. Rosetta Muriel admired Graham extremely. In +spite of his shabby clothing, there was about him the indefinable air which +Jerry had recognized and which had led him to classify the young man as a +“city dude.”</p> + +<p>“I should have thought that Raymond girl would have put on something +more stylisher,” reflected Rosetta Muriel, casting a disapproving glance +at Peggy’s gingham. “I haven’t seen her in a nice dress +yet.” Had she been in Peggy’s place, she would have known better how +to improve her opportunities, she felt sure.</p> + +<p>Owing to Hobo’s injuries, the event which up to the time of the +accident had seemed to Peggy so tremendously important, had been quite cast in +the shade. She recalled it as Mrs. Cole brought out the salve. “Oh, I +didn’t tell you. My chickens have hatched.”</p> + +<p>“Turned out pretty well, did they?” asked Mrs. <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> Cole, smiling at Peggy +benevolently. Peggy was an immense favorite with the good woman, a fact which +Rosetta Muriel recognized with irritated wonder. She asked herself frequently +why it was that folks got so crazy over that Raymond girl, “with no style +to speak of.”</p> + +<p>“There’s only six hatched yet. I’ve put them in a basket +just as you said. The old hen is on the other eggs.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe six will be all,” said Mrs. Cole. “That +thunder-storm day before yesterday was pretty rough on eggs ’most ready to +hatch.”</p> + +<p>Six chickens, instead of eighteen! An air-castle fell with such a crash that +it almost seemed to Peggy as if the little group about her must be aware of its +downfall. Then she took a long breath. “Well, even six, at forty cents a +pound, won’t be so bad for a start,” said Peggy to herself.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Cole looked admiringly after the young people as they took their +departure, Dorothy and Annie racing on ahead. “They’re what I call a +handsome pair,” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Rosetta Muriel objected. “He’s awful swell, but she ain’t a +bit. Look at her gingham dress.”</p> + +<p>“Seems to me that her gingham dress is just the thing for running +around in the woods and fields,” <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_141'></a>141</span> said Mrs. Cole, who did not often pluck up courage +sufficiently to oppose her own opinions to her daughter’s superior wisdom. +“I’ve seen her fixed up in white of an evening, and looking like a +picture. But, as far as that goes,” she concluded resolutely, +“there’s so much to her face, just as if her head was crammed full +of bright ideas, and her heart of kind thoughts, that you get to looking at her, +and forget what she’s wearing. An’ I guess that young man thinks so, +too.”</p> + +<p>The closing sentence silenced the retort on Rosetta Muriel’s lips. Her +mother had voiced her own suspicions. As a rule, the sophisticated Rosetta +Muriel had very little respect for her mother’s opinions, but, in this +case, her views happened to coincide with some inward doubts of her own. Rosetta +Muriel wondered if it were possible, after all, that sweetness and intelligence +written in a girl’s face, might count for more than some other things.</p> + +<p>Farmer Cole’s optimism regarding Hobo was justified. For that very +evening as the young folks ranged themselves in a semi-circle for the +flash-light picture, on which Amy had set her heart, Hobo appeared, looking very +interesting in his big collar of bandages, and squeezed himself into the very +front of the circle, with a dog’s deep-rooted aversion <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> to being left out of +anything. Poor Hobo! He was inexperienced in the matter of flash-lights, and +that eventful day was to end in still another shock. For when the powder was +touched off and the room was illumined by the lurid glare, high above the +inevitable chorus of screams and laughter, sounded Hobo’s yelp of +terrified surprise. He left the room with his tail between his legs, and never +again, while the summer lasted, could he be induced to face Amy’s +camera.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span><a id='link_9'></a>CHAPTER IX<br /><span class='h2fs'>RUTH IN THE RÔLE OF HEROINE</span></h2> + +<p>The boys’ stay was almost at an end. There had been a number of +“last days,” indeed, and Graham declared that he felt like a popular +<i>prima donna</i> with a farewell tour once a year. “Jack and I hate like +the mischief to go,” he acknowledged frankly, “but for all +it’s so jolly here, you can’t exactly call it a walking tour, and +that’s what we set out for. So to-morrow is positively our last +appearance.”</p> + +<p>They had been sitting around the fire in the front room when Graham made the +announcement, and forthwith it was unanimously decided that the closing day of +the boys’ visit must be a red-letter occasion in the annals of the summer. +Enough suggestions were offered to provide a week’s entertainment for +people who object to taking their pleasures strenuously. In addition to +outlining plans for the morrow, it had been tacitly agreed to make the most of +the present, and this had resulted in their sitting up very late and clearing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> among them several +platters of fudge, which Amy had thoughtfully made ready. It was that fudge +which Ruth recalled about five o’clock the next morning,–recalled +with an aversion which by rapid degrees became loathing.</p> + +<p>“I ought to have known better,” thought poor Ruth, failing to +find any especial consolation in the reflection that she herself was responsible +for her present misery. “I didn’t eat half as much as Amy, +though.” She pressed her hands to her throbbing temples and groaned. +“It’s Graham’s last day, and I’m going to be sick and +spoil everything.”</p> + +<p>She entertained herself for some moments by picturing the consternation with +which her announcement would be received. “You’ll have to go without +me to-day. I’ve got such a headache that I can’t do a thing.” +But, of course, they would not go without her. They would sit on the porch and +discuss regretfully the good times they would have had if nothing had +interfered.</p> + +<p>All at once Ruth came to a magnificent resolve. She would not spoil the +pleasure of Graham’s last day. She would not allow the shadow of her +indisposition to cloud the enjoyment of the others. She would bear her +sufferings in silence. The resolution was such a relief that she almost fancied +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span> that the pain in +her head was a little easier. She turned her pillow, pressed her hot cheek to +its refreshing coolness, and proceeded to enjoy contemplating herself in the +rôle of a heroine.</p> + +<p>After two wretched hours in which the only alleviating feature was her heroic +resolve that her suffering should affect no one but herself Ruth fell asleep. +And almost immediately, as she thought with indignation, she was waked by Peggy, +who stood over her, holding fast to her shoulder and shaking her vigorously at +intervals, as she cried: “Oh, you sleepy-head! Aren’t you ever going +to get up?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t, Peggy!” Ruth’s tone did not reflect the +cheeriness of Peggy’s greeting. She jerked away with a feeling of +aggrieved resentment. To be shaken awake was something she had not bargained +for, in mapping out her course of action. How her head did ache, to be sure. If +Peggy had only let her sleep a couple of hours longer in all probability she +would have felt much better.</p> + +<p>But Peggy had no intention of letting anybody sleep. “Get up this +minute, both of you,” she insisted. “We’ve got oceans to do +to-day, and everybody must hustle.”</p> + +<p>Ruth reluctantly obeying the summons, clutched <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> the bed post to steady herself. Her +head swam. The pain was fiercer, now that she was standing. It was all very well +for Peggy to talk of hustling. Probably if her own head ached distractingly she +would be satisfied with a less strenuous word.</p> + +<p>“See you later, but not late, if you please.” Peggy shot out of +the room, and the door slammed to behind her breezy departure. Ruth started and +shuddered. She had a feeling, which she would have recognized as unreasonable if +she had stopped to analyze it, that she would have expected more consideration +from Peggy.</p> + +<p>But worse was coming. The boys had been invited to breakfast, in order that +the day’s festivities might begin as early as possible, and so ardent had +been their response that Peggy found them on the porch when she came +down-stairs. She threw the door open and gazed at them commiseratingly. +“Hungry?”</p> + +<p>“Starved,” Graham looked at his watch and sighed. +“We’ve been here a trifle over two hours.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing of the sort, Miss Peggy,” exclaimed Jack. +“It’s hardly half an hour.”</p> + +<p>“Half an hour is bad enough. We all overslept. If you’d like, you +may hurry things by setting the table, while I mix the griddle-cakes.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span>Graham smacked +his lips. “Maple sirup?” he asked insinuatingly, and at +Peggy’s nod, he indulged in frantic demonstrations of delight. Jack looked +at him disapprovingly. “From your actions I should judge you to be about +eight years old.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis the griddle-cake doth make children of us all,” parodied +Graham recklessly, not at all abashed by his friend’s criticism. +“Come on, Jack. I’m going to set the table, and I shall need your +housewifely aid.”</p> + +<p>When the girls came flocking down, the table was set, although not altogether +in the conventional fashion, and from the kitchen issued the odor of frying +pan-cakes, agreeable or otherwise, according to one’s mood. Graham sniffed +it as ecstatically as if it had been the fragrance of a rose-garden. Ruth +hastily found her way to the open door, and tried to think of something beside +food.</p> + +<p>“Ruth!” It was Peggy’s voice sounding from the kitchen. +Ruth looked resolutely ahead, and did not move. There was Amy and Priscilla and +Claire to choose from. If she didn’t answer, Peggy would of course summon +another assistant.</p> + +<p>“Ruth!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you hear Peggy calling you, Ruth?” Graham asked +peremptorily. And again Ruth’s <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_148'></a>148</span> mood was resentful. How unkind and unfeeling +everybody seemed. The tears started to her eyes as she crossed the room. In the +kitchen Peggy was turning cakes on the smoking griddle, her cheeks glowing from +her exertion over the blazing fire.</p> + +<p>“Here, Ruth. Watch these cakes, will you, while I see to the hash? I +wonder if those boys have got enough dishes on the table to eat out of. And push +back the coffee pot please. The coffee’s done, anyway.”</p> + +<p>“Is breakfast nearly ready?” Graham put his head through the +door. “I told you I was starving you remember, three-quarters of an hour +back. Now the pangs of hunger are less cruel, but I’m gradually growing +weaker.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a pathetic figure for a famine sufferer,” scoffed +Peggy. “Oh, Ruth, that cake is burning.”</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, Ruth,” exclaimed Graham, with mock severity, +“that’s inexcusable. Burning up a perfectly good pan-cake when your +brother is suffering from hunger.” It was of course, in keeping with the +nonsense he had been talking all the morning, but to poor Ruth it seemed as if +he were really finding fault.</p> + +<p>“I’m doing the best I can,” she replied rather <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span> sharply, and Peggy +noticed the suppressed irritation of her tone and wondered. Then, as Graham +advanced into the kitchen with the intention of helping to carry in the +breakfast, Ruth backed into a corner and screamed.</p> + +<p>“What on earth is the matter now?” Graham knew the answer to his +question, even before he asked it, and was irritated. If it was amusing to make +Ruth scream by pointing his finger in her direction, when he was in a teasing +mood, it was extremely annoying to have her suspect him of such intentions when +his conscience was altogether clear, when indeed, with Peggy as a witness, he +had solemnly renounced all such diversions forever. “What are you making +such a fuss about?” he insisted, as Ruth did not answer.</p> + +<p>“You were going to tickle me.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing of the sort. Oh, say! The rest of those cakes are burning up. +Peggy, you’d better get somebody to help you who will attend to her +business.”</p> + +<p>Peggy saved the situation by telling Graham he could take in the hash, and +that there was so much batter that a few scorched cakes would never be missed. +“You carry in the coffee,–will you, Ruth?” said Peggy, and +improved the opportunity <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_150'></a>150</span> to resume her former position by the griddle. Ruth +understood the manœuvre, and her heart swelled. Evidently Peggy thought +she couldn’t do anything right, not even turn a griddle-cake when it was +brown. And Graham was actually cross. She began to think it did not pay to be +heroic in order to spare the feelings of such inconsiderate people.</p> + +<p>Poor Ruth could not eat. She sipped her coffee and played with her fork, +expecting every moment that some one would notice that her food had not been +touched and inquire the reason. To tell the truth, Ruth had reached the point +where she would not have been averse to such an inquiry, and the attendant +necessity of explanation. It was much pleasanter, she had decided, to have +people know you were feeling sick, and trying to be brave about it, than to +suffer in heroic silence, sustained only by your own sense of virtue. But, to +her surprise and disappointment, no questions were asked. The gay party +surrounding the breakfast-table was too engrossed with satisfying clamorous +appetites, and discussing the day’s program, to notice that one of the +number was not eating. This confirmed Ruth’s impression, that it was, +after all, a selfish, if not a heartless world.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span>“Now, +Peggy,” began Priscilla, when the last plate of golden-brown cakes had +failed to melt away after the fashion of their predecessors, “nobody can +eat another thing. As long as you got the breakfast, Ruth and I will wash the +dishes.”</p> + +<p>“And Claire and I will make the beds,” said Amy, “while +Peggy attends to the menagerie.” Amy had always continued the +disrespectful custom of referring to Peggy’s poultry yard as the +menagerie.</p> + +<p>“It won’t take me ten minutes to attend to the chickens and Hobo, +too.” Peggy left the table, and went blithely out to the small coop, +shaped like a pyramid, with slats nailed across the front, where the yellow hen +exercised maternal supervision over six chickens. Whether or not the +thunder-storm was responsible, Mrs. Cole’s foreboding regarding the other +nine eggs had been justified by the outcome. But to make up for this +disappointment, the six chickens which had hatched had turned out to be as downy +and yellow and generally fascinating as the chickens favored by the artists who +design Easter cards, and this agreeable surprise had enabled the optimistic +Peggy to take an entirely cheerful view of the situation.</p> + +<p>It was a shock to the others when a wailing cry <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> came to their ears from the vicinity of +the chicken coop. Priscilla, who was just filling her dish-pan with steaming +water, set the kettle down so hastily as narrowly to escape scalding herself, +and ran to the scene of the excitement. The others followed with the exception +of Ruth, who was glad of the opportunity to drop into a chair and press her +hands to her throbbing temples.</p> + +<p>The cause of Peggy’s cry of distress was at once apparent. She stood +beside the coop, a motionless ball of down on her open palm. Below the yellow +hen scratched blithely and clucked to her diminished family.</p> + +<p>“She did it herself,” cried the exasperated Peggy. “She +deliberately stood on top of it and crushed the life out of it. When I came out +it was too far gone to peep, and she was looking around as if she wondered where +the noise had come from. But by the time I could make her move, the poor little +thing was dead.”</p> + +<p>It was the general verdict that the conduct of the yellow hen was +reprehensible in the extreme. The comments passed upon her would have been +sufficient to make her wince, had she been a hen of any sensibility. But +regardless of the disapproval so openly expressed, she continued to scratch +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> and summon her +brood, with every indication of being perfectly satisfied with herself.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>“Six little Indians stole honey from a hive,<br /> A busy bee got +after one and then there were but five.”</p> </div><!-- poetry --> + +<p>Peggy looked at Graham as if she did not know whether to laugh or be angry. +Being Peggy, she, of course, settled the question in favor of the first-named +alternative, though even as she dimpled, she told Graham severely that it was +nothing to laugh about.</p> + +<p>“As I understand it, the tragedy has only been hastened,” said +the teasing Graham. “You designed the chicken for the butcher, +didn’t you? And now let’s feed this unnatural mother before she gets +hungry and eats up the other five.”</p> + +<p>The appetite of the yellow hen was not the least impaired by the family +disaster. She gobbled down her corn meal with a dispatch which argued +indifference to the possibility that there might not be enough left for her +offspring. Then while Peggy and Graham made ready a little grave for the victim +of maternal clumsiness, the others flocked back to the house discussing the +calamity. Reluctantly Ruth resumed her duties, and her sense of resentment <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> grew rapidly, as she +listened to the excited chatter of her companions. All this fuss about a dead +chicken, and not a word of sympathy for her sufferings. Ruth was rapidly +approaching the point of extreme unreasonableness.</p> + +<p>A long walk was the first of the festivities scheduled for the eventful last +day. The boys had discovered a view that they were very anxious to have the +others see, and even Aunt Abigail, who was not a great success as a pedestrian, +had decided to go along. Ruth was putting on her wide brimmed shade hat, when a +wave of faintness swept over her, and for a minute everything turned black. Then +she recovered herself, and saw a white face with unnaturally large eyes staring +back at her from the mirror.</p> + +<p>“I–I don’t believe I’ll go,” said Ruth in an +uncertain voice, in which there was no suggestion of heroism.</p> + +<p>“Go?” Amy was down on her hands and knees, looking for a pin in +the cracks of the floor. “Of course you’ll go. Don’t be +grumpy.”</p> + +<p>Grumpy! And after she had endured so much to avoid casting a shadow over the +spirits of the party. Ruth frowned on her, but in silence. It seemed to her that +she had never before realized <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_155'></a>155</span> the amount of selfishness in the world. Nobody +cared what she suffered. Her dearest friends, her own brother were prodigies of +inconsiderateness. With an effort she kept back the burning tears of self pity, +and tottered down the stairs, prepared to endure the martyrdom of a long walk +under the July sun.</p> + +<p>“Ruth,” called Peggy from the pantry, “just help me with +these sandwiches, will you?” They were coming home for the midday meal, +but Peggy had determined to carry along a few sandwiches, as country-grown +appetites seemed independent of the limitations of those appetites with which +she was best acquainted.</p> + +<p>Ruth rose to obey. But her indisposition was becoming more than a match for +her will. She was half way across the room, when she halted, swayed, and +crumpled up in a little helpless heap. Graham was too late to save her from +falling, but he had her in his arms almost as soon as she touched the floor, and +carried her to the couch, turning pale himself at the sight of her colorless +face.</p> + +<p>From all directions the girls came running. As usual, Peggy took command.</p> + +<p>“She’s fainted, Graham, that’s all. Bring some water. We +must get the sofa cushions out from <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_156'></a>156</span> under her head. Bring that palm-leaf fan, Amy. +There, she’s coming to already.”</p> + +<p>The eyelids of the forlorn heroine had indeed fluttered encouragingly. A +moment later Ruth opened her eyes. As her languid gaze travelled around the +circle of faces, she saw consternation written on each one. Peggy patted her +hand tenderly.</p> + +<p>“Don’t try to speak, darling. You fainted, that’s +all.”</p> + +<p>“Could you drink a little water, dearie,” coaxed Priscilla, +bending over her, glass in hand.</p> + +<p>“Here, let me lift her.” Graham rushed forward, thankful for the +opportunity to do something, as he found the sense of helplessness +characteristic of his sex in all such crises extremely galling.</p> + +<p>Ruth felt it incumbent on herself to relieve the general anxiety. +“It’s only one of my headaches,” she explained faintly. +“I ought to have given up to it. But I hated to spoil Graham’s last +day.”</p> + +<p>There was a little chorus of mingled disapproval and admiration. “You +dear plucky thing!” cried Peggy. “And here I’ve been ordering +you around all the morning. Those pan-cakes must have been torture.”</p> + +<p>“As if Jack and I wouldn’t have waited over <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> another day!” exclaimed Graham in +a tone of disgust. “We’d rather have waited a week, than have you +put yourself through like this,” He smoothed her ruffled hair with awkward +tenderness, and Amy, carried away by her emotions, fanned so vehemently that she +tapped the patient on the nose, and was sharply reprimanded.</p> + +<p>The tears Ruth had been holding back all the morning could no longer be +restrained. They overran her trembling lids, and streamed down her cheeks. The +little murmurs of soothing sympathy were redoubled, though Graham walked off +quickly to the window and stood looking out with a stern, fixed gaze, as if the +landscape had suddenly become of absorbing interest. But Ruth’s tears were +not wrung from her by suffering. They were tears of penitence and honest shame. +How dear and kind every one was! How cruelly she had misjudged the world when +she had called it inconsiderate. And the course of conduct which in the morning +had seemed to her admirable and heroic, suddenly appeared foolish in the +extreme. The faint tinge of color showing in her white cheeks was not an +indication of returning strength so much as of mortification.</p> + +<p>The departure of Jack and Graham was immediately <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> put off till Ruth should be well enough +to take part in the fun which was to serve as a climax to the visit. For the +remainder of the day, Ruth found herself the centre of attraction in Dolittle +Cottage. She lay at ease on the couch, with wet compresses on her forehead. The +shutters were closed to keep out the sunshine. Every one walked on tiptoe, and +spoke in subdued accents. Even the fly-away Dorothy sought the invalid at +frequent intervals to murmur, “Poor Rufie! Poor Rufie,” and to pat +Ruth’s arm with a sympathetic little hand. Now that it had gained its +point, the headache decreased in severity, but had the pain been far more +violent, Ruth would have minded it less than sundry pangs of conscience which +would not allow her to forget that she really was undeserving of all this tender +consideration.</p> + +<p>By the end of the afternoon she was able to sit up and to share in the +general excitement which welcomed Amy on her return from the village. Several +days before, Amy had carried down a roll of films to be developed at the local +photographer’s, and was now bringing back a neat little package of prints. +“Oh, the flash-light picture is here, isn’t it?” exclaimed +Ruth, to whose chair the package had been brought immediately, while the others +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> stood around +awaiting their turn. “I want to see that first.”</p> + +<p>Amy looked a trifle discomfited.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s here,” she replied. “But the photographer +said if I wanted to be a success I’d have to learn to flatter people more. +He said that he learned that long ago.”</p> + +<p>The flash-light picture was certainly far from flattering. The brilliant +light had caused every pair of eyes to roll heavenward, till only the whites +were visible, so that the group looked not unlike a company of inmates of a +blind asylum, posing for a photograph. But the missing eyes were not the only +startling features of this remarkable picture. Several mouths were open to their +widest extent, and except for the face of Jack Rynson, who was a young man with +an unusual capacity for self-control, every countenance was convulsed by an +agitation whose exciting cause was left to the imagination of the beholder.</p> + +<p>Ruth laughed over the flash-light picture till she cried, and declared that +it had almost cured her headache. When Graham helped her up the stairs that +night, she startled him by leaning up against him to laugh again. “I was +thinking of Claire’s picture in the flash-light,” she explained, as +her <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> brother looked +down at her anxiously. “Poor Claire! I’m afraid she felt more like +crying than laughing.”</p> + +<p>“’Tisn’t every girl that’s as plucky as my little +sister,” said Graham, tightening his clasp about her. Ruth’s +laughter ended abruptly. “Oh, don’t, Graham,” she pleaded, as +if distressed by his praise. “If you only knew–” And there she +stopped. It was quite enough for Ruth Wylie to know the true inwardness of that +day; a day, Ruth was certain, that would never, never be duplicated in her +experience.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span><a id='link_10'></a>CHAPTER X<br /><span class='h2fs'>MRS. SNOOKS’ EDUCATION</span></h2> + +<p>For the next few days Ruth continued to be the centre of the life of the +cottage. All the fun was planned with due regard to her lack of strength. At +almost every meal some little extra delicacy appeared beside her plate. Whatever +impatience Graham and Jack may have felt over the further postponement of their +tramp, they concealed the feeling with remarkable tact. There was little danger +however, that the unusual attentions showered on Ruth would turn her head, as +she had a counter-irritant in the shape of a firm conviction that she did not +deserve any of this spontaneous kindness.</p> + +<p>It was a day or two after her unsuccessful attempt to enact the rôle of +heroine that Graham arrived at the cottage at an early hour and in a noticeable +state of indignation. In spite of Ruth’s protests that she was quite well +enough to assist in the work of the morning, the girls had unanimously scoffed +at the suggestion, and had forcibly <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_162'></a>162</span> seated her in one of the porch rockers and thrust a +late magazine in her hands. But by the time Graham arrived, the magazine had +slipped to the floor and Ruth sitting with folded hands, was able to give her +brother her undivided attention.</p> + +<p>“It’s the most extraordinary thing,” Graham sat down on the +steps at Ruth’s feet, and fanned his flushed face with his hat. +“Have you missed anything that belongs to you, lately?”</p> + +<p>“Why, no! Have you found anything?”</p> + +<p>“That’s what I’m going to tell you. To start at the +beginning, the first night Jack and I slept at Mrs. Snooks’, we +weren’t warm enough. There weren’t many covers on the bed, and in +this hilly country the nights are cool, even when the days are pretty warm. So, +in the morning, I spoke to Mrs. Snooks, and said we’d like some extra +bedding, and she promised to attend to it.”</p> + +<p>Ruth’s face had crinkled suddenly into a smile of comprehension, which +Graham was too absorbed to notice.</p> + +<p>“Well, that night a steamer rug appeared on the bed. It wasn’t +exactly a success. You know a steamer rug’s too narrow to cover two people +properly. If it was over Jack, I was left out in the cold, and <i>vice +versa</i>. We had to take turns shivering. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_163'></a>163</span> After one of us got to the point where his teeth +chattered, he’d snatch the rug off the other fellow and warm up. But it +wasn’t till this morning that I took any particular notice of that rug. +And Ruth, it belongs to us!”</p> + +<p>Graham looked at his sister with an air of expecting her to be greatly +surprised. Translating her smile into an expression of incredulity, he began to +prove his assertion.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know it sounds absurd, but I’m not mistaken, Ruth. I +suppose two rugs might be of the same pattern, but it’s hardly likely they +would have the identical ink-spots. Don’t you remember how I spilled the +ink on that rug when I was getting over the measles? And down in the corner is +part of a tag Uncle John had sewed on, when he borrowed it for his trip abroad. +The ‘Wylie’ is torn off but ‘John G.’ is left. And now the question +is–”</p> + +<p>Ruth’s laughter could no longer be restrained. “Oh, Graham, she +borrowed it.”</p> + +<p>“Borrowed it!” repeated the amazed Graham. “Well, I like +that.”</p> + +<p>“She rushed down here the morning after you came and said she had an +extra bed to make, and would we lend her a little bedding. Of course we <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> didn’t have any +bedding to spare. We’d only brought enough for ourselves and hardly that, +for it’s cooler here than we expected. But the steamer rug was lying +around and we thought we could let her take that.”</p> + +<p>“But she must have bedding of her own,” insisted Graham. +“What does she do in the winter time?”</p> + +<p>“That’s the funny thing about Mrs. Snooks. She borrows dust-pans, +and flat-irons and all sorts of necessary things and you feel sure that she +hasn’t been doing without them all her life. And the queerest part of all +is that she acts so aggrieved if we refuse. If we tell her that we’re out +of sugar, she seems as indignant as if we kept a store, and it was our business +to have sugar for everybody.”</p> + +<p>Peggy came out on the porch at that moment, and listened with interest, not +unmixed with indignation, to Graham’s account of his discovery. +“Sometimes I think the trouble with that woman is that she’s formed +an appetite for borrowing, just like an appetite for drugs, you know.” +Peggy laughed as she added, “Perhaps I ought not to say a great deal just +now, as long as I’m going borrowing myself. I’ve just discovered +that we haven’t <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_165'></a>165</span> any ginger in the house, and I’ve set my +heart on gingerbread for dinner.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you borrow it of Mrs. Snooks?” cried Ruth. +“It’s time we were getting a little return for what we’ve lent +her.”</p> + +<p>Peggy hesitated. “I don’t know why I shouldn’t,” she +acknowledged frankly. “If it isn’t very convenient for her to lend +it, perhaps she’ll realize that her borrowing may inconvenience other +people sometimes.”</p> + +<p>It was while Peggy was absent on this errand that the plot was formed. +Gradually the group on the piazza had increased till only Peggy and Dorothy were +missing. Not unnaturally the conversation concerned itself with Mrs. +Snooks’ peculiarities, and the undeniable disadvantages of having her for +a neighbor. Graham’s story of the steamer rug was matched by equally +harrowing tales of useful articles borrowed with the promise of an immediate +return, and missed when wanted most.</p> + +<p>“Peggy imagines that she’s going to teach Mrs. Snooks a lesson by +borrowing a little ginger of her,” Ruth said with a shake of her head. +“It’s my opinion it’ll take a good deal more than that to +teach Mrs. Snooks anything.”</p> + +<p>A sudden mischievous light illumined Amy’s <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> eyes. “Let’s give her a +real lesson,” she cried. “Let’s show her how it seems to have +your neighbors always borrowing things. Peggy’s gone after a little +ginger, you say?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” nodded Ruth fascinated by the possibilities she saw +unfolding in Amy’s plan.</p> + +<p>“Well, when Peggy gets home, I’ll go down and do some borrowing. +And it won’t be anything like ginger, you understand. I’ll pick out +some real useful article, that she’ll miss every minute. That’s the +way she does. And when I get back, Priscilla will take her turn.”</p> + +<p>Had Peggy been present it is doubtful whether the project would have been +received with such unanimous enthusiasm. Peggy’s softness of heart +interfered sadly, at times, with her theories of discipline. But in her absence +the conspiracy against Mrs. Snooks’ peace of mind was discussed and +elaborated without a dissenting voice. Even Aunt Abigail tacitly approved, and +Jack Rynson, who, it appeared, had been solicited to lend a handkerchief and a +black necktie, that Mr. Snooks might be properly attired for attending a funeral +in the village, gave the schemers the benefit of several valuable +suggestions.</p> + +<p>Peggy made her appearance dimpling with <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_167'></a>167</span> amusement, and was greeted with a shout of +interrogation. “Did you get it?” cried half a dozen voices in +chorus.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I got it, but you never saw anybody so surprised and unwilling. +She hinted and fussed, and dropped hints that she’d been thinking of +making gingerbread for supper herself. It really made me uncomfortable to take +it, but I felt it was time that she had a lesson.”</p> + +<p>“High time!” agreed Amy with a droll glance at her +fellow-conspirators. The unsuspecting Peggy looked about with mild surprise on +the laughing group. “Well, we’re sure of our gingerbread, +anyway,” she said and passed into the house. Amy was instantly on her +feet.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Amy,” exclaimed Ruth, half admiringly, and half in +remonstrance, “do you really dare?”</p> + +<p>“Dare? Why, I don’t need any great amount of courage. I’m +only Number Two. It’s Number Five or Number Six who’ll have to be +brave.” Amy went gaily down the path, and Peggy as she stirred the soda +into the molasses, wondered at the laughter on the front porch and reflected +that the crowd was in unusually jolly spirits.</p> + +<p>About the time that the gingerbread was beginning to diffuse its savory odors +through the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> house, +Amy returned. A glance at her triumphant face furnished sufficient proof that +her undertaking had been successful, even without the silent testimony of a +large object concealed by a napkin, and carried with ostentatious care. +“Oh, Amy, what have you there?” cried Priscilla, finding some +difficulty in making her voice heard above the chorus of exclamations and +laughter.</p> + +<p>“An apple-pie.” Amy’s tone indicated immense satisfaction +with herself.</p> + +<p>“Amy, not really? You couldn’t!” Ruth protested, choking +with laughter.</p> + +<p>“Seeing’s believing, isn’t it?” Amy whisked off the +napkin, and revealed the pie still steaming. When order was sufficiently +restored, she told her story.</p> + +<p>“I hadn’t exactly made up my mind what I’d ask for, but the +minute I was inside the kitchen, I saw the pie set in the window to cool and I +decided on that. Poor Mrs. Snooks couldn’t believe her ears. She asked me +over twice, and then she said she’d never heard of anybody’s +borrowing a pie. And I said that we happened to be out of pies, and were going +to have company to dinner. You and Jack will have to stay,” she added to +Graham, who accepted with as profound a bow as if he <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> had not been counting confidently on +the invitation.</p> + +<p>“Did she act very cross?” questioned Priscilla, who was beginning +to wonder if Mrs. Snooks’ education had not progressed sufficiently for +that day, without any further assistance.</p> + +<p>“Oh, not particularly. She looked rather sad, and you couldn’t +call her manner obliging, but it isn’t likely that she’d say very +much, considering that she’s borrowed something from us once a day on an +average, ever since we came.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you’d let me take my turn next,” said Claire a +little nervously. “I don’t want to wait till she gets to the +exploding point, and then be the one to be blown up.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, go ahead, I don’t mind.” As a matter of fact, +Priscilla shared Claire’s qualms, but would not for the world have +admitted as much. Ruth watched Claire moving down the path, reluctance apparent +in every step, and declared that it didn’t seem fair. “You girls are +bearding the lioness in her den and I’m having all the fun without doing a +thing. Aunt Abigail and I are the lucky ones.”</p> + +<p>“Bless you, child, I’m going to take my turn,” said the old +lady, with a twinkle in her eye which indicated that her requisition on the +generosity of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> Mrs. +Snooks would mark a distinct advance in the education of that lady. +“I’m going when Priscilla gets back.”</p> + +<p>But, as it happened, Aunt Abigail was not called on to redeem her boast. +Claire returned with a small package of salt, folded up in brown paper, her +courage having failed her when it came to the point of requesting the loan of a +more useful article. Priscilla, having joined in the scoffing called out by this +evidence of faint-heartedness, was on her guard against a similar display of +timidity.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Snooks was ironing as Priscilla appeared in the doorway, and the flush +that stained her sallow cheeks was not altogether due to the proximity of a +glowing stove.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Snooks,” Priscilla began, finding the ordeal rather more +trying than she had expected, “I’ve come to see if you’ll lend +us your coffee-pot till to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Snooks tested her flat-iron with a damp forefinger, and then resumed her +work. Her answer was so long coming that Priscilla began to wonder if she were +not intending to reply.</p> + +<p>“There’s been a good deal of borrowing ’round in this +neighborhood first and last,” Mrs. Snooks remarked at length, with +impressive dignity. “And <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_171'></a>171</span> lately I’ve been laying in a considerable +stock of new things, including a coffee-pot. I’ve made up my mind that +I’ll neither borrow nor lend. While I don’t like to seem +unneighborly,” concluded Mrs. Snooks, setting down her flat-iron with a +startling thud, “it’s a matter of principle. I’ve done the +last lending or borrowing that I’m a-going to.”</p> + +<p>It was apparent that Amy’s ruse had worked, and that Mrs. Snooks had +learned her lesson, but it needed the girls’ united efforts to dissuade +Aunt Abigail from following up Priscilla’s visit, by a call of her own. +Aunt Abigail argued that in order to make the effects of the lesson permanent, +it was necessary to “rub it in.” From a hint she finally let fall, +the girls gathered that she was disappointed in not being able to carry out a +brilliant idea that had flashed into her mind while the plot was developing.</p> + +<p>“What was it you were going to borrow, Aunt Abigail?” Ruth asked, +but Aunt Abigail shook her head. “If I had succeeded in getting it from +Mrs. Snooks,” she replied, “you should have known. Not +otherwise.” And as Peggy who happened out on the porch at that moment, +threw the weight of her influence on the side of those who were protesting +against any further visits to Mrs. Snooks, it <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_172'></a>172</span> seemed probable that the curiosity of the company +would remain ungratified. Aunt Abigail was an old lady abundantly able to keep +her own counsel.</p> + +<p>Peggy viewed the apple-pie with an air of disquiet. “Now, we’ll +have to buy some apples, right away. We’re out.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what of it?”</p> + +<p>“Why, we must make a pie in the morning to return to Mrs. +Snooks.”</p> + +<p>“Return!” cried Amy. “Why, Peggy, you’re going to +ruin everything. This is ‘spoiling the Egyptians.’ What did Mrs. Snooks +ever return that we didn’t send for?” As Peggy refused to alter her +determination, a little murmur of dissatisfaction arose.</p> + +<p>“I think we’re getting the worst of that bargain,” Jack +Rynson said with feeling. “Swapping one of Miss Peggy’s pies, for +one of Mrs. Snooks’. I’ve tried both, and I ought to +know.”</p> + +<p>“Then we’ll send it back just as it is,” declared Amy with +another happy inspiration. “We’ll change it to another plate, and +she won’t know whether it is her pie or not. And, even if she suspects the +truth, what difference does it make?”</p> + +<p>This brilliant idea was actually carried out, after <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> some demurring on the part of Peggy, +who was afraid that Mrs. Snooks’ feelings might be hurt. Graham was +delegated to return the pie and did so that evening, with a suitable expression +of thanks which Mrs. Snooks received without returning the usual assurance that +every one concerned was perfectly welcome.</p> + +<p>Graham turning to go up-stairs, halted by the door. “Oh, by the way, +Mrs. Snooks, if you could let me have–”</p> + +<p>“I’m entirely out,” replied Mrs. Snooks, without waiting +for him to finish.</p> + +<p>Graham stared. Then he understood that Mrs. Snooks was suspecting him of +complicity in the plot, and his amusement came very near getting the better of +his politeness. In his effort not to laugh, his handsome young face flushed a +not unbecoming scarlet.</p> + +<p>“It was only that I lost a button on the way home, Mrs. Snooks, and I +thought if you would–”</p> + +<p>“I’ve lent my last spool of thread,” said Mrs. Snooks, +“and I haven’t a needle to my name. Henney dropped my thimble down +the well last week, and as for buttons, the only ones I own are on the +children’s clothes. But if you want any of them things, Mr. Wylie, +you’ll find a right good <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_174'></a>174</span> assortment at Dowd’s. He keeps a good stock, +if ’tis nothing but a country store.”</p> + +<p>Graham thanked her and went to his room. He reflected that Mrs. Snooks had +not only learned her lesson, but had applied it, which is not always the case +with promising pupils.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span><a id='link_11'></a>CHAPTER XI<br /><span class='h2fs'>DOROTHY GETS INTO MISCHIEF</span></h2> + +<p>The experiment which had marked such an advance in the education of Mrs. +Snooks had proved equally beneficial to Ruth’s health. There is no panacea +like laughter. Since Ruth had been spared the ordeal of requesting the loan of +any of Mrs. Snooks’ belongings, her enjoyment of the situation had been +unqualified and she had laughed most of the day, and even waked once or twice +during the night to find herself still chuckling. By morning her manner had lost +every trace of lassitude and her assurance that she felt as well as ever was +accepted by the household without question.</p> + +<p>The final obstacle in the way of the boys’ long deferred tramp was now +removed. Still another last day was celebrated with fitting ceremonies, and the +Snooks’ roof sheltered the wanderers for positively the last time. Graham +and Jack had made their farewells the previous evening, as they were to start +early, and Ruth’s suggestion of rising to <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_176'></a>176</span> see them off was immediately vetoed by her +brother.</p> + +<p>“You won’t do any such thing. Why should you miss two or three +hours of sleep for the sake of saying good-by to-morrow morning, when you can +just as well say it to-night?” Yet for all his masculine assumption of +superiority to sentiment Graham was conscious of a little pang of disappointment +as he and Jack passed Dolittle Cottage, in the dewy freshness of the summer +morning. He had more than half expected to see a hand or two flutter at a +window, in token that their departure was not unnoticed.</p> + +<p>“‘How can I bear to leave thee,’” hummed Jack under his +breath, and his smile was a little mischievous. Graham regarded him +disdainfully, and Jack, breaking off his song, hastened to say: “Well, +they’re as nice a crowd of girls as we’d find anywhere, if we +tramped from here to the Pacific coast.”</p> + +<p>“You’re right about that,” Graham returned, mollified, and +then the boys, turning the bend of the road, halted as abruptly as if a +highwayman had checked their advance. For hidden from sight by a tangled thicket +of underbrush and vines, five girls in white shirt-waists and short skirts were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> waiting their +arrival. The girls shrieked delightedly at the amazement depicted on the +countenances of the two knights of the road.</p> + +<p>“Now, don’t try to pretend that you were expecting this all the +time. You know you never thought of it,” Ruth cried, slipping her hand +through her brother’s arm, and giving it a fond squeeze.</p> + +<p>“Of course I never thought of it. Only a girl could originate such a +brilliant idea.” The assumed sarcasm of Graham’s rejoinder could not +conceal his pleasure, and Ruth flashed a satisfied glance at Peggy, who met it +with a twinkle of understanding.</p> + +<p>“We’re only going to walk about a mile,” explained Peggy, +as the procession moved forward. “We know you want to make a record, your +first day out. And, besides, we haven’t had a real breakfast yet, only +crackers and milk.”</p> + +<p>It was a long mile that they traversed before parting company, as the girls +found when they came to retrace their steps. Familiar as they thought themselves +with the vicinity, the sunrise world was full of delightful surprises. There was +magic in the air, and the winding road lured them ahead, as if it had been an +enchanted path leading to fairyland.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span>“I wish +somebody’d go away early every morning,” Amy sighed from a full +heart, “and give us an excuse for getting up early. To think of sleeping +away hours like this.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a pity we didn’t leave long ago,” suggested +Jack Rynson, between whom and Amy there existed a sort of armed truce, “so +that you could discover what a country morning was like.” But before Amy +could form a sufficiently withering reply, a tiny bird, perched on the topmost +bough of a neighboring tree, had burst into such music that the little party +stood silenced, and even playful bickering was forgotten.</p> + +<p>Something of the magic of the morning vanished, it must be confessed, when +the farewells could no longer be postponed, and the girls turned their faces +toward Dolittle Cottage. “The worst of nice things,” said Ruth +crossly, “is that you miss them so when they stop.”</p> + +<p>“It’s only half-past six now,” announced Priscilla, +consulting her watch. “Goodness! What are we going to do with a day as +long as this?”</p> + +<p>“I know what I’m going to do with part of it,” said Peggy. +“I’m going to give Lucy Haines a good boost on her algebra. +There’s been so much <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_179'></a>179</span> going on since the boys came, that she’s felt +shy about dropping in. Afraid of interfering, you know. But I sent word to her +by Jerry, yesterday, that I should expect her this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>As it proved, it was not a difficult matter to occupy the long day, since +each hour brought its own occupation and a little to spare. At the threshold of +the cottage they were met by startling news, Dorothy hurrying out importantly to +make the announcement.</p> + +<p>“One of your little chickens has goned to Heaven, Aunt Peggy. A big +bird angel took it.”</p> + +<p>“What on earth does she mean?” Peggy demanded in a perplexity not +unnatural, considering the highly idealized character of Dorothy’s report. +It was left to Aunt Abigail to translate the catastrophe into prose. The +Dolittle Cottagers were not the only early risers that fine morning. A big hawk, +up betimes, and looking for his breakfast, had selected as a choice tit-bit, one +of the yellow hen’s fast diminishing brood. Peggy felt that she could have +borne it better had it not been for the unimpaired cheerfulness of the yellow +hen’s demeanor.</p> + +<p>The discussion of the tragedy delayed breakfast, and when the household +finally gathered about the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_180'></a>180</span> round table, it was a little after the regular +breakfast hour rather than earlier. And, as sometimes happens, dinner seemed to +follow close on the heels of breakfast, and directly after dinner, came Lucy +Haines. Lucy’s manner of accepting a kindness always betrayed a little +hesitancy, as if her independent spirit dreaded the possibility of incurring too +heavy a weight of obligation. But usually after a little time in Peggy’s +society, that air of constraint disappeared, greatly to Peggy’s +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>That afternoon session was a protracted one. Lucy’s attempt to master +algebra without a teacher, had been not unlike the efforts of a mariner to +navigate without a chart. Lucy’s little craft had struck many a reef, and +was aground hard and fast, when the tug “Peggy” steamed up +alongside. The fascination of discovering a key to mysteries seemingly +impenetrable rendered Lucy as oblivious to the flight of time as Peggy herself. +When the girls on the porch called in to ask the time, and Peggy glancing at the +clock in the corner, replied that it was half-past four, Lucy let her book drop +in her consternation. Instantly her face was aflame.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it can’t be,” she said in dismay. “I can’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> have been here +three hours. What must you think of me?”</p> + +<p>Peggy looked at her in a surprise more soothing to the girl’s sensitive +pride than any amount of polite protest.</p> + +<p>“Why, I’ve enjoyed every minute,” she said simply. +“And I think we’re beginning to see daylight, don’t +you?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed I do. I didn’t believe that such puzzling things could +get so clear in one afternoon. And I can’t begin to thank you.” Lucy +gathered up her belongings and made a hasty exit, while Peggy followed her out +upon the porch.</p> + +<p>“Hasn’t Dorothy come yet, girls? Then wait a minute.” This +last to Lucy. “I’ll get my hat and walk part way with you. I told +Dorothy she might play with little Annie Cole this afternoon but it’s time +she was home.”</p> + +<p>The two girls had covered about half the distance to the farmhouse, when they +were met by Rosetta Muriel who nodded, cordially to Peggy, and stiffly to her +companion. “We thought it was time Annie was coming home,” she +explained. “Ma said you folks would get tired having her ’round. So I was +just going for her.”</p> + +<p>The color had receded from Peggy’s face in the <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> course of this explanation. +“Annie! Why, I thought–”</p> + +<p>“Ma told her she could go over to play with Dorothy. Didn’t she +come?”</p> + +<p>“Why, I haven’t seen her. I told Dorothy she might go to play +with Annie.”</p> + +<p>There was a frightened catch in Peggy’s voice. Rosetta Muriel hastened +to reassure her, though with a distinct touch of patronage.</p> + +<p>“It’s nothing to get fidgety about. Those young ones are up to +some mischief, that’s all. Our Annie’s a whole team all by herself +as far as cutting up goes, and I guess your Dorothy is another of the same +kind.”</p> + +<p>“But where can they be?” faltered poor Peggy, too engrossed with +that all-important question to be concerned as to the implied criticism of her +small kinswoman.</p> + +<p>“Oh, they’re about the farm somewhere, I s’pose. You +needn’t worry. That Annie of ours is always getting into the awfulest +scrapes, but, you see, she hasn’t been killed yet.”</p> + +<p>With this modified comfort, Rosetta Muriel led the searching party. Peggy +followed, looking rather white in spite of repeatedly assuring herself that the +children were sure to be safe. Lucy <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_183'></a>183</span> Haines brought up the rear, because she could not +bear to go her way till Peggy’s anxiety was relieved.</p> + +<p>The investigation of several of Annie’s favorite haunts proved +fruitless, and Rosetta Muriel began to show signs of temper. “Looks like +they’ve gone down to the pond. That’s a good quarter of a mile, and +I’ve got on satin slippers.” She held out an unsuitably clad foot +for Peggy to admire, but Peggy was thinking of other matters than French heeled +slippers. “The pond! Is it very deep?”</p> + +<p>“No, indeed. But ma don’t like–”</p> + +<p>Lucy Haines interrupted the explanation by a stifled cry, which from a girl +so self-controlled meant more than a fit of hysterical screaming on the part of +one differently constituted. Peggy whirled about.</p> + +<p>In the adjoining pasture separated from them by a low stone wall, was a +fantastic spectacle, worthy a midsummer night’s dream. Down the slope, +snorting as he ran, galloped a full sized boar, his formidable tusks grotesquely +emphasizing his terrified demeanor. The fairy-like figure perched on his back +and holding fast by his ears, was Dorothy. And behind ran Annie, plying a switch +and <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> shouting +commands intended to hasten the speed of the frightened charger.</p> + +<p>As if she were in a dream, Peggy heard behind her the horrified whisper of +Rosetta Muriel. “They’ll be killed!” gasped the girl. +“Why, that boar’s dangerous!” Then her fear found voice and +she screamed. At the sound Annie looked up, and halted in her tracks. Dorothy, +too, lifted her eyes and straightway fell off her flying steed. And the boar, +apparently uncertain as to what might happen next, lost no time in putting space +between himself and his late tormentors. He turned and galloped up the slope in +a frenzy of fear highly ludicrous under the circumstances. Unluckily none of the +lookers-on were in a mood to appreciate the humor of the situation.</p> + +<p>Peggy reached Dorothy about the time that the fallen equestrienne was picking +herself up, her face rueful, for she realized that the hour of reckoning had +come. A moment later Rosetta Muriel had pounced on Annie, and, as an indication +of sisterly authority, was boxing both ears impartially.</p> + +<p>“You little piece! You might have been killed, and it would have served +you right. I don’t believe you’ll ever be anything better than a +tomboy <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> as long as +you live. If I was ma, I’d lick these tricks out of you, you +bet.”</p> + +<p>The frantic child, between her sister’s blows and angry words, was more +like a furious little animal than a human being. Struggling in Rosetta +Muriel’s grip, her face crimson with passion, she showed herself ready to +use tooth and nail indiscriminately in order to free herself. For all her +advantage in size and strength, Rosetta Muriel was unable to cope with so +ferocious an antagonist. She solved the problem by giving Annie a violent push, +as she released her hold. The child struck the ground at some distance and with +a force which brought Peggy’s heart into her mouth. But immediately Annie +scrambled to her feet, her face scratched and bleeding, and started toward home, +screaming as she went, though less from pain than from anger.</p> + +<p>“That brat!” cried Rosetta Muriel breathing fast. Then her eyes +fell on Peggy, standing in disdainful quiet, and her expression showed +uncertainty. Rosetta Muriel was hardly capable of appreciating that for one in a +fit of passion to attempt to correct a child is the height of absurdity, but she +recognized the indignation Peggy took no pains to hide.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span>“Does seem +sometimes,” observed Rosetta Muriel with an unsuccessful effort to regain +the air of languor which she imagined the badge of good breeding, “as if +nothing I could do would make a lady out of that young one.”</p> + +<p>“I should think not,” replied Peggy, and it was not her fault if +Rosetta Muriel thought the remark ambiguous. “Good night,” she added +hastily and turned away, fearful that a longer interview would bring her to the +point of speaking her mind with a plainness hardly allowable on slight +acquaintance. Like many people noted for tact and consideration, Peggy, when +driven to frankness, left nothing unsaid that would throw light on the +situation.</p> + +<p>Dorothy walked at her aunt’s side with chastened step. In the chaos of +feeling into which Rosetta Muriel’s unwise discipline had plunged her +small sister, there was little chance for the voice of Annie’s conscience +to make itself heard. But Dorothy, on the other hand, was the prey of +conscientious qualms. She had been naughty. Annie’s angry big sister had +said they might have been killed, which, from Dorothy’s standpoint, was +censurable in the extreme.</p> + +<p>“Aunt Peggy,” she began at last, in such a forlorn little pipe +that Peggy was forced to steel herself <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_187'></a>187</span> against an immediate softening of heart. +“Aunt Peggy, I guess you’d better whip me. If you send me to bed +’thout any supper it wouldn’t make me a good girl a bit, ’cause me and +Annie ate lots of cookies and I don’t want any supper, anyway.”</p> + +<p>Peggy studied the sunset earnestly before she could trust herself to +reply.</p> + +<p>“Dorothy, how often have you and Annie done what you did +to-day?”</p> + +<p>Dorothy was not certain, but it was evident that the diversion had been tried +on several occasions and Peggy’s heart almost stood still, realizing the +peril to which the children had exposed themselves. Without doubt their immunity +was due to their very audacity. Apparently the boar had not connected these +fearless mites with human beings whom he knew to be vulnerable, but had fancied +them sportive elves, against whom his tusks would be powerless. Peggy registered +a vow not to let Dorothy out of her sight again while the summer lasted.</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you tell Aunt Peggy what you and Annie were +playing?”</p> + +<p>The candid Dorothy had an instant reply. “’Cause I didn’t want +you to make me stop.” It <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_188'></a>188</span> was clear that the sin had not been one of +ignorance. Peggy resolved to act upon Dorothy’s counsel.</p> + +<p>After the two reached home, the story had so many tellings that there seemed +a little danger of Dorothy’s penitence evaporating in self-importance. +“I had the last turn, anyway,” she boasted; “and he runned +faster with me on his back, too.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, if I’d only been there with my camera,” lamented Amy. +“Think what a snap-shot it would have made.” Then as Peggy frowned +at her behind Dorothy’s shoulder, she subsided with a grimace of +comprehension.</p> + +<p>As Dorothy climbed the stairs to bed, it was understood that the hour of +retribution had arrived. Dorothy wept softly while undressing, and uttered +agonizing shrieks as she underwent her chastisement. Down-stairs the girls +looked at one another aghast, and Hobo whined uneasily, as if asking permission +to interfere. Then the uproar ended abruptly, and Dorothy climbing upon +Peggy’s knee, pledged herself solemnly never again to ride boar-back, a +promise which stands more than an even chance of being religiously kept.</p> + +<p>Altogether Peggy was inclined to regard her methods of discipline as highly +successful. It was <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span> +not till a penitent and altogether adorable Dorothy had been tucked into bed, +and kissed uncounted times, that doubt assailed her. She was moving toward the +stairs, when a small voice arrested her steps.</p> + +<p>“Aunt Peggy,” Dorothy said dreamily, “you don’t spank +as hard as my mamma does. You whipped me just the way Hobo whips himself with +his tail.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span><a id='link_12'></a>CHAPTER XII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE NEW LUCY</span></h2> + +<p>In the week that followed, the education of Lucy Haines progressed rapidly. +After that first afternoon when the time had slipped away without her knowing +it, she kept her eye on the clock and was careful not to over-stay the hour. But +as she came every day, and her enthusiasm for learning fully matched +Peggy’s enthusiasm for teaching, the results were all that could be +wished.</p> + +<p>Then one afternoon her pupil failed to appear, and Peggy wondered. A second +afternoon brought neither Lucy nor an explanation of her absence. +“I’m afraid she’s sick,” said Peggy, who never thought +of a discreditable explanation for anything till there was no help for it.</p> + +<p>“Sick of algebra, more likely,” suggested Claire. “I +thought such zeal wouldn’t last.”</p> + +<p>“She doesn’t seem like that sort of a girl,” declared Amy, +who was developing a tendency to disagree with Claire on every possible pretext. +“She’s <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +one of the stickers, or I don’t know one when I see it.”</p> + +<p>A little assenting murmur went the rounds, and Claire glanced reproachfully +at Priscilla, who had sided against her. “Two souls with but a single +thought,” represented Claire’s ideal of friendship. That two people +could love each other devotedly, and yet disagree on a variety of subjects, was +beyond her comprehension. She was ready at a moment’s notice to cast aside +her personal convictions, and agree with Priscilla, whatever stand the latter +cared to take, and it seemed hard, in view of such unquestioning loyalty, that +Priscilla should persist in having opinions of her own.</p> + +<p>But Claire’s hour of triumph was on its way. When Jerry Morton came in +the morning with a string of freshly caught fish, he produced from the depths of +an over-worked pocket a folded paper, which, to judge from its worn and soiled +appearance, had served as a hair-curler or in some equally trying capacity. This +he handed to Peggy, who regarded it with natural misgiving.</p> + +<p>“That Haines girl sent it,” Jerry explained. “I put it in +the pocket where I carry the bait, but I guess the inside is all +right.”</p> + +<p>Thus encouraged, Peggy unfolded the dingy <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_192'></a>192</span> scrap, but the changes of her expressive face did +not bear out Jerry’s optimistic conjecture that the “inside” +was all right. Judging from Peggy’s crestfallen air, it was all wrong. The +note was not written in Lucy’s usual regular hand. The letters straggled, +the lines zig-zagged across the page, and the name signed was almost an +unintelligible scrawl. But Peggy thought less of these superficial matters than +of the unwelcome news communicated.</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>“Dear Friend:–I shan’t come to study algebra any more. +I’ve given up the idea of going to school any longer. I thank you very +much for trying to help me, but it’s no use.</p> + +<p class='tar'>“Yours truly,<br /> +“Lucy Haines.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“I thought it was something like that,” Claire +remarked triumphantly when the note was read +aloud, and she reflected with some satisfaction that +she alone had suggested the rightful explanation of +Lucy’s action.</p> + +<p>“I must say I’m disappointed in that girl,” declared Peggy, +absently smoothing out the crumpled paper. Her bright face was clouded. +“Wednesday she was just as interested and ambitious as <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span> she could be. And now +she’s given up. It doesn’t seem like her.”</p> + +<p>“I must say she doesn’t show a great deal of gratitude,” +exclaimed Ruth, always ready to rush to Peggy’s defence. “Here +you’ve been using your vacation to teach her, when you might have been +enjoying yourself, and then all at once she gets tired of it. It doesn’t +seem to occur to her that if you were like most girls, you’d be the one to +give up.”</p> + +<p>The expression of Peggy’s face suggested that she was rather absorbed +in her own thoughts, and giving but scant heed to the words of her champion.</p> + +<p>“Do you know, girls,” she said slowly, “I’m going +over to see Lucy and find out what this means.”</p> + +<p>There was a chorus of protests. “Don’t you do it, Peggy,” +Amy cried indignantly. And Priscilla remarked, “I wouldn’t tease her +into accepting a kindness that she hadn’t the sense to +appreciate.”</p> + +<p>“It was too much for you to do anyway,” Ruth chimed in. “I +think it’s a good thing she’s tired of it, myself.” But Peggy +was not to be dissuaded from her purpose. Under the uncompromising statements of +the bald little note, there was something <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_194'></a>194</span> that claimed her sympathy. Even the straggling +lines, so little suggestive of the Lucy Haines she knew, carried the suggestion +of appeal. “I’m not going to coax her into doing anything,” +Peggy explained. “But–” and this with unmistakable +firmness–“I’m going to find out.”</p> + +<p>After dinner, when the other girls were indulging in afternoon naps, or +lounging on the porch, Peggy donned a broad-brimmed shade hat, and with Hobo at +her heels, started toward Lucy’s home. The zig-zag path crossing the +pastures was both shorter and pleasanter than the road, and Peggy rather enjoyed +getting the better of such obstacles as snake fences and brooks that must be +crossed on stepping stones. Such things gave to an otherwise prosaic ramble the +fine flavor of adventure.</p> + +<p>She was flushed and warm, and looking, had she known it, unusually pretty, +with her moist hair curling in rings about her forehead, when she came in sight +of Lucy’s home, a straggling cottage which would have been improved by +paint and the services of a carpenter. Both lacks were partially concealed by +vines which climbed over its sagging porch, and tall rows of hollyhocks, +generously screening with their showy beauty its weather-beaten sides. A girl +was in the back yard chopping wood, a rather slatternly <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> girl with disordered hair. Peggy +descended on her briskly to ask if Lucy were at home.</p> + +<p>Hatchet in hand, the girl faced about. Peggy’s head whirled. She made a +confused effort to recall whether Lucy had ever mentioned a sister, a sister +considerably older, and not nearly so nice. Then her momentary confusion passed, +and she realized she was facing Lucy herself. The shock of her discovery showed +in her voice as she exclaimed, “Why, it’s you!”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” said Lucy a little coldly, but she cast a +half-apologetic downward glance at her untidy dress, and her color rose. With +obvious reluctance she asked, “Won’t you come in?”</p> + +<p>Peggy was conscious of a thrill of righteous indignation. She stood very +straight and her eyes met those of the other girl squarely. “Lucy, are you +angry with me?”</p> + +<p>Lucy Haines did not answer immediately. Her bared throat twitched +hysterically and all at once the eyes which looked into Peggy’s brimmed +over.</p> + +<p>“Don’t, please!” she said in a choked voice. “Me +angry! Why, you’re the kindest girl I ever dreamed of. Till I’m dead +I’ll love to think about you and how good you are. But it’s no +use.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span>Peggy seated +herself on the woodpile. Her native cheerfulness had returned with a rush.</p> + +<p>“Now, Lucy Haines, let’s talk like two sensible people. If +I’m as nice as all that, you ought to be willing to trust me a little. +What’s the reason it’s no use? What’s made all the difference +since Wednesday?”</p> + +<p>Lucy’s silence was like a barrier between them. If it had not been for +the tears upon her cheeks, Peggy would have been inclined to distrust her memory +of that momentary softening. The girl’s confidence came at last +reluctantly, as if dragged from depths far under the surface, like water raised +in buckets from a well.</p> + +<p>“My money’s gone.”</p> + +<p>Peggy had an uncomfortable feeling that she must grope her way. “Your +money’s gone?” she repeated, to gain time.</p> + +<p>“Yes, the money I’ve been saving up. The money that was to help +me get through school next year. You know how I’ve worked this summer. And +there isn’t a thing to show for it.”</p> + +<p>“How much was it?”</p> + +<p>“Forty dollars.”</p> + +<p>All at once Peggy felt an insane desire to laugh. The impulse was without +doubt, purely nervous. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_197'></a>197</span> For though there seemed to her a surprising +discrepancy between the sum named and the despair for which it was responsible, +the humorous aspect of the case was not the one which would naturally appeal to +a disposition like Peggy’s. Desperately she fought against the impulse, +coughed, bit her twitching lips, and finally acknowledged defeat in a little +hysterical giggle. Lucy stared at her, too astonished to be angry.</p> + +<p>“There!” Now that the mischief was done, Peggy felt serious +enough to meet all the requirements of the case. “I’ve laughed and +I’m glad of it. For it’s a joke. Forty dollars! A girl as bright as +you are, ready to sell out for forty dollars. It’s enough to make anybody +laugh.”</p> + +<p>Lucy put her hand to her forehead. “But it was all I had,” she +said rather piteously.</p> + +<p>“All you had. But not all you can get. Why, I had a friend who went +into a business office last winter. She’s earning forty dollars a month +now, and they’ll raise her after she’s been with them a year. Forty +dollars means a month’s work for a beginner. You’ve lost a month, +and you talk as if everything had been lost.”</p> + +<p>The rear door of the cottage opened, and a young man appeared, a distinctly +unprepossessing young <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_198'></a>198</span> man, whose shabby clothing somehow suggested a +corresponding shabbiness of soul. He stood irresolute for a moment, then turned +and struck off across the fields, his shambling gait increasing the unfavorable +impression that Peggy had instantly formed.</p> + +<p>Lucy regarded her visitor with burning eyes.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t mean to tell anybody,” she said. “I thought +my pride wouldn’t let me, but what’s the use of my being proud? That +was my brother, and he drinks. I guess you’d know it to look at him, +wouldn’t you? It was he who stole my money. That’s the kind of +people I belong to.”</p> + +<p>Peggy got to her feet. She had an odd feeling that she could not do her +subject justice sitting on a woodpile, with her feet dangling.</p> + +<p>“Lucy Haines,” she said with a severity partly contradicted by +the kindness of her eyes, “I’m ashamed of you. I can tell just by +the little I know of you, what kind of ancestors you had, and you ought to be +thankful for them every day you live. Think of all the sickly people in the +world, that can’t more than half live at best, and you with your splendid, +strong body. And think of the stupid ones, who try to learn and can’t, and +you seeing through everything like a flash. I know what kind <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> of people you belong to, +Lucy Haines, and you ought to be proud and thankful, too.”</p> + +<p>The immediate effect of this outburst was a surprise. Lucy Haines sat down on +the chopping-block and began to cry. She cried as if the pent-up sorrows of her +life were at last finding outlet, cried as if she never meant to stop. Peggy in +her dismay tried coaxing, scolding, petting, each in turn, and at last gave up +the vain endeavor, and took her old place on the woodpile, to wait till Lucy +should have come to the end of her tears.</p> + +<p>At last the figure in the soiled calico was no longer shaken by convulsive +sobs. Lucy turned toward the patient watcher on the woodpile, and in spite of +her swollen lids and blood-shot eyes, Peggy knew it was the old Lucy looking up +at her. “Well?” she demanded cheerfully. “It’s all +right, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Lucy agreed hesitatingly. “I’m going to try +again, if that’s what you mean.”</p> + +<p>“And you’ll come to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’ll come to-morrow, if you’re not too disgusted to +bother with me any longer,” said Lucy humbly.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s time for Hobo and me to be going home.” Peggy +jumped to her feet, crossed briskly <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_200'></a>200</span> to the unkempt figure, and stooping, kissed a +tear-stained cheek. And then Lucy’s arms went about her, and clasped her +close in passionate gratitude.</p> + +<p>“Peggy Raymond,” said a stifled voice, “I can’t do +anything to pay you back, but this. I promise you I’ll make you proud of +me yet. You were ashamed of me to-day, but if I live, I’ll make you proud +of me.” And Peggy had one more bewildering impression to add to the varied +catalogue of characteristics which made up the Lucy Haines, whom she was +beginning to think she had never known till that day.</p> + +<p>In spite of this triumphant conclusion to her enterprise, Peggy returned to +the cottage heavy of heart. There is always a danger that the sensitive and +sympathetic will find the revelation of the misery in the world overwhelming, +bringing the temptation to shut one’s eyes to suffering, or else in its +contemplation, to lose the joy out of life. And as it only takes an added drop +to cause a full cup to brim over, Peggy’s dejection reached the +overflowing point, through no other agency than the yellow hen.</p> + +<p>The girls all noticed that Peggy was silent, as well as uncommunicative. She +fenced skilfully to evade direct answers to their questions, but she did <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> not seem inclined to +introduce new topics of conversation. And when Amy called her from the kitchen, +where she and Ruth were getting supper, Peggy sat staring abstractedly ahead of +her till the call was repeated.</p> + +<p>Priscilla glanced up from her magazine. “Say, Peggy, the girls are +calling you. Probably they are having trouble with the muffins.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I didn’t hear,” Peggy sprang to her feet, and went +hastily through the house to the kitchen. But it was not domestic difficulties +which accounted for Amy’s summons. She stood at the window, flattening her +nose against the screen.</p> + +<p>“Peggy, I wish you’d tell me what this old vixen is about. Is she +trying to punish one of the chickens, or is it only a game?”</p> + +<p>For ten days past the yellow hen had been freed from the restraints of the +coop, and by day had led her brood in adventurous quest of grasshoppers, and at +sunset had conducted them to the waiting nest in the rear of the woodshed. But +at the present moment, a peculiar scene was being enacted. At the open door of +the woodshed, a sleepy brood huddled close, awaiting the return of their mother, +who with an air of determination was pursuing a squawking chick, running as if +for his life.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span>Around the +cherry-tree they circled, once, twice, thrice. Then the pursuer overtook her +foster-child, and pecked him savagely. It was not a game.</p> + +<p>The yellow hen strutted off in the direction of her peeping brood, clucking +complacently, as if she congratulated herself on solving some problem +satisfactorily. The poor little outcast followed with a piteous pipe, which +caused the Spartan mother to turn and repeat her admonition.</p> + +<p>For a moment Peggy was at a loss for an explanation. Then she understood. +“I know,” she cried. “He’s a different breed from the +others, and he’s outgrown them, and the senseless old creature thinks he +doesn’t belong to her. She’s just got to be nice to him, +that’s all.”</p> + +<p>But Peggy’s efforts at discipline were unavailing. The speckled chicken +surreptitiously introduced under the yellow hen’s hovering wings, enjoyed +the briefest possible period of maternal protection. Before Peggy could get back +into the house, the yellow hen was chasing him all around the woodshed, and +Peggy found it necessary to make him comfortable for the night in a basket set +behind the stove.</p> + +<p>And this was the little drop which made her cup overflow. The forlorn peeping +of the outcast <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> +chicken seemed to blend with poor Lucy’s sobs. Peggy wondered if it could +be that the voice of earth’s suffering was like the hum of the insects on +a summer night, so constant that one might not hear it at all, but an +overwhelming chorus if one listened.</p> + +<p>“Peggy Raymond, do you think you’re coming down with +anything?” Amy demanded crossly, at half-past nine o’clock that +evening. “Because you’re about as much like yourself as chalk is +like cheese.”</p> + +<p>Peggy stood up.</p> + +<p>“No, I’m not coming <i>down with</i> anything,” she said +lightly, “but I’m going <i>up to</i> something, and that’s my +bed. I believe I’m sleepy.”</p> + +<p>Before she climbed the stairs, she went out into the kitchen to be sure that +the speckled chicken was comfortable. As she touched the basket he answered with +a soft, comfortable sound like the coo of a baby, or the chirp of a sleepy +little bird, the sound that speaks of warmth and contentment. Peggy stood beside +the basket thinking.</p> + +<p>“There! I knew something was wrong.” Amy had followed her friend +out into the kitchen. “You’re crying over that chicken. Why, you +silly Peg!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span>But Amy had +misinterpreted the moist eyes. That little contented sound from the basket back +of the stove had brought a message to Peggy. She had made the chicken +comfortable in spite of its unnatural mother. She had rekindled ambition in +Lucy’s heart in spite of her thieving brother. All at once Peggy +understood that the compensation for insight is the joy of helpfulness. It was +not meant for any heart to bear the burden of earth’s grief, but only to +lighten it as one can, and be glad.</p> + +<p>And so, after all, Peggy went up to bed comforted.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span><a id='link_13'></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>A BENEFIT PERFORMANCE</span></h2> + +<p>Peggy had a bright idea. Any one familiar with the Peggy disposition would +have guessed as much from a number of infallible signs. There were periods of +abstraction, characterized by long silences or random replies. There were +thoughtful little frowns, and sudden dimpling smiles, all for no reason +apparent. And when Peggy reached the point of saying to herself in a +confidential undertone, “There! That’s just the thing!” +speculation ran riot in Dolittle Cottage.</p> + +<p>But though the guessing was both varied and ingenious, it was all wide of the +mark. The announcement of Peggy’s project at the breakfast-table one +morning took everybody by surprise. “Look here, girls,” began Peggy, +betraying a degree of nervous excitement in her reckless salting of her +scrambled eggs, “what would you think of our giving a benefit +performance?”</p> + +<p>“Performance of what?” asked half the table. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> And the other half wanted to know, +“Whose benefit?” Peggy answered the last question first.</p> + +<p>“Lucy Haines’. She’s had–that is, she isn’t +going to have some of the money she was counting on for next year,” Peggy +flattered herself that this discreet statement gave no hint of the heartache and +humiliation poor Lucy had undergone. “And even if we didn’t make +very much, a little would help her out.”</p> + +<p>“But, Peggy, what could we do?” cried Amy, setting down her glass +of milk with an emphasis that sent part of its contents splashing over the brim. +“None of us sing any to speak of, except Priscilla, and she and Claire are +the only ones who play. I don’t see–”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve been wondering why we couldn’t repeat that +little farce we gave at school last June. It wouldn’t be much work, for we +all know our parts. Beside ours, there was only one that amounted to anything. I +thought maybe Claire would take that. The other characters have so little to do +that we could easily pick up girls for the parts. Lucy herself might take +one.”</p> + +<p>“And Rosetta Muriel,” suggested Amy, rather maliciously. It was +so seldom Peggy really disliked anybody that the temptation to make frequent +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span> mention of their +pretentious neighbor was too much for Amy’s fun-loving disposition. +Unconsciously Peggy’s face assumed an expression suggestive of just having +swallowed a dose of quinine. “I suppose so,” she agreed grudgingly, +and Amy indulged in a wicked chuckle.</p> + +<p>“But where could we give it, Peggy?” Ruth asked with animation. +It was easy to see that the suggestion had made a most favorable impression on +the company. The little comedy had been given during commencement week and had +proved the most popular feature of that festive period. The performers had not +had time to forget their parts, and a very few rehearsals would be sufficient to +assure a smooth presentation. Peggy, delighted with the friendly reception +accorded her plan, continued her explanation.</p> + +<p>“Why, I think they’ll let us have it in the schoolhouse. +It’s just standing empty all summer. I’ll have to see Mr. Robbins +about that, Mr. Silas Robbins. He’s the committee man who hires teachers, +and everything of that sort. And, of course, Lucy ought to know what we are +planning before we do anything further. It won’t be necessary to have her +name put in the paper, or anything like that, but I’m sure the people will +be more interested <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span> +if they know it is a benefit for one of their own girls.”</p> + +<p>Lucy Haines, on learning the latest of Peggy’s schemes for her +advantage seemed rather overwhelmed. As a matter of fact, she exaggerated the +generosity of the girls who had so cordially endorsed Peggy’s plan. The +summer days were all very delightful, but the presentation of the little play +promised that agreeable variety without which all pleasures pall. Indeed, +Lucy’s expression of gratitude, fervent if not fluent, rendered Priscilla +really uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>“I wish you’d make her understand, Peggy,” she said, +“that though we’re awfully glad to help her, we’re not a +collection of philanthropists. I’m afraid she doesn’t understand +that this play is going to be lots of fun.”</p> + +<p>Other misunderstandings had to be cleared up before everything was running +smoothly. When Peggy called on Mr. Silas Robbins, and stated her errand, that +excellent man failed to grasp her explanation, and took her for the manager of a +theatrical troupe.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean that you’re running a show at your age! I +call it a shame. You don’t look a day older than my Ettie. Haven’t +you got a home <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span> and +folks, child, or what is it that’s druv you into this dog’s +life?”</p> + +<p>Of course it was necessary for Peggy to begin at the beginning, and in the +course of twenty minutes or so, the good man began to understand. As the extent +of his blunder gradually dawned upon him, he threw back his head and broke into +a hearty guffaw whose enjoyment was contagious. Peggy joined him, and then there +was an exultant note in her laughter. Observation had taught her that when a man +is laughing, it is one of the hardest things in the world for him to say no.</p> + +<p>“Now, suppose we start over again, and go kind of slow,” said Mr. +Silas Robbins. “I’ve got as far as this, that you’re all +high-school girls and want to give a show. It would take a reg’lar racehorse of +a brain to keep up with that tongue of yourn.”</p> + +<p>Peggy’s further explanations were characterized by the utmost +deliberation, so that Mr. Robbins had time to ask any questions that occurred to +him, and the outcome justified her expectation. Not only did she secure the use +of the school building, but Mr. Silas Robbins agreed to purchase tickets for +himself and family.</p> + +<p>“And to think I took you for a perfessional,” <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span> said Mr. Robbins, +smiling very broadly as he turned back to his waiting horses. “If +there’s anything in your show funnier’n that, it’ll be wuth the +price. Going to ask a quarter, be you? That’s right. Folks don’t +appreciate a cheap ten-cent show, the way they do one they’ve got to pay a +good price for.”</p> + +<p>Peggy met a similarly cordial reception at the office of the <i>Weekly +Arena</i>, the country paper, on which she was relying for free advertising. Mr. +Smart, the editor, was a careworn little man, whose frayed and faded business +suit suggested that too many subscriptions were paid in potatoes and cord wood, +and too few in the coin of the realm. He agreed to her request with a readiness +Peggy thought wonderfully kind, though it would have surprised her less, had she +realized with what eagerness Mr. Smart was continually seeking items with a news +value.</p> + +<p>“I’ll make one or two references to it in this issue,” Mr. +Smart promised, “to sort of pique curiosity, you know. And next week you +might give me a little write-up of the thing. Outline the plot, without giving +away the surprises, and put it on thick about its being funny. It <i>is</i> +funny, ain’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, very.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_211'></a>211</span>“That’s the talk,” said Mr. Smart +approvingly. “I don’t know how it is with city people. Sometimes it +seems to me that they must like to have their feelings harrowed up, judging from +the kind of plays they go to see. But here in the country, we like to get our +money’s worth of laughing. And, by the way, I suppose you understand, +Miss, that it’s customary for the Press to receive two complimentary +tickets.”</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding this cordial and valuable support, Peggy was to find that the +lot of an actor-manager is not altogether free from thorns. Claire had +obligingly agreed to accept the vacant <i>rôle</i> in the cast, but after one +reading of the little play, a marked decrease in her enthusiasm was +observable.</p> + +<p>“Do you know I don’t like the part of <i>Adelaide</i> a +bit,” she confided to Priscilla. “I’d like to play +<i>Hazel</i>. I’m going to ask Amy if she’d mind changing with +me.”</p> + +<p>Priscilla stared.</p> + +<p>“Of course she’d mind. She knows her part and has played it once. +You couldn’t ask her to learn a new one just because you prefer +hers.”</p> + +<p>Claire’s air of depression became more marked.</p> + +<p>“Priscilla,” she quavered, “I don’t see how I’m +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span> going to play that +part. I don’t know how I’ll endure it.”</p> + +<p>Priscilla’s amazement grew. “Why, what’s wrong with it? I +think it’s particularly cute.”</p> + +<p>“Why, we’re quarrelling every minute, you and I. And at the end +of the second act, you say–” Claire’s voice died away in a +dejected whimper. But there was little balm for her grievance in +Priscilla’s unfeeling laughter.</p> + +<p>“Well, what of it? There’s nothing real about it. A quarrel in a +play isn’t anything.”</p> + +<p>“It’s something to me,” replied Claire, in tones nicely +balanced between despondency and tenderness. “When I think of your glaring +at me and saying such cruel, cruel things, it seems as if it would almost kill +me.” She found her handkerchief, and actually shed a few tears, while +Priscilla choked down her exasperation, and tried to answer with fitting +nonchalance.</p> + +<p>“Sorry you feel that way. We might ask Dorothea Clarke, the girl who +took the part before, to come up for a week, just to play it. Though I must +say,” concluded Priscilla, her irritation getting the better of her good +resolutions, “that your idea impresses me as too silly for +words.”</p> + +<p>The suggestion that Claire’s coöperation was not <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span> necessary to the success of the +undertaking was all that was needed. Claire had no intention of being reduced to +the position of an on-looker, while the others enjoyed the fun and reaped the +plaudits of the enterprise. Nothing more was heard of Claire’s giving up +her part, but in the rehearsals she showed such a total lack of spirit, and +played the <i>rôle</i> assigned her with so unmistakable an air of injury, that +patient Peggy was driven to the verge of desperation.</p> + +<p>Nor were her troubles confined to Claire. Rosetta Muriel who had been offered +an unexacting part in the cast, confided to Peggy her intentions in regard to +costume. “I’m going to have an apple-green silk. The skirt’ll +be scant, of course, and draped a little right here. And which do you think +would be stylisher, a square neck or–”</p> + +<p>Peggy had by now recovered herself sufficiently to interrupt. “Why, +you’re cast for a parlor-maid.”</p> + +<p>“I know it,” said Rosetta Muriel, indifferently.</p> + +<p>“You can’t dress in apple-green silk. You ought to have a plain +black dress and a little white apron.”</p> + +<p>Rosetta Muriel flushed and tossed her head.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what difference that makes. If <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span> you’re going on the stage you +want to look as nice as you can, I should think.”</p> + +<p>“One can look very nice in a black dress and a white apron. I’m +going to be a frumpy old woman, with the worst rig you ever saw. But of +course,” concluded Peggy firmly, perceiving that Rosetta Muriel was +inclined to argue the point, “If you’d rather not take the part, I +can probably find some one else. But whoever takes it, will have to be dressed +suitably.”</p> + +<p>That argument was as effective with Rosetta Muriel as it had been with +Claire. She yielded as the other girl had done, and as ungraciously. +“It’s easy enough to see through that,” she told herself +angrily. “Those city girls want to be the whole thing. They’re +afraid to let me dress up nice, for fear folks will look at somebody +else.” And it argues well for the strength of Rosetta Muriel’s +vanity that for the moment she actually believed her preposterous charge.</p> + +<p>Plans for the play absorbed the leisure of the cottagers. Little else was +talked of. To Jerry Morton had been assigned the responsibility of organizing an +orchestra of local talent, and he came twice a day or oftener, to report +progress or ask counsel. The tan shoes, whose excessively pointed <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span> toes betrayed that +probably they were as old, if not older than Jerry himself, but which in +Jerry’s estimation were synonymous with unpretentious elegance, appeared +so frequently that the razor-like tips began to look somewhat scarred and +battered, as if they might perhaps retire from active service in ten +years’ time, or so. But the tan shoes were not Jerry’s only +concession to the social amenities. An unwonted attention was given to grimy +knuckles and finger-nails. More than once he made his appearance with his +usually frowsy hair as sleek as the coat of a water rat, and dripping, in +further likeness to the animal mentioned. Peggy, whose original interest in +Jerry had been intensified by the favorable impression he had made on Graham, +hailed these signs of awakening with satisfaction, and laid plans to bring about +still more startling changes.</p> + +<p>The little comedy did not require much in the way of scenery. But to present +even a simple home scene on the schoolhouse platform, necessitated considerable +planning, to say nothing of hard work. Arrangements were made for extra benches +to put back of the battered desks, for the <i>Weekly Arena</i> had exhibited a +noble determination to earn the two complimentary tickets, and Peggy felt sure +of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span> a full house. +Farmer Cole had agreed to lend Joe for the important day, and it looked as if +the hired man would not find his post a sinecure.</p> + +<p>“If ever a place was misnamed,” Aunt Abigail remarked one day, +“this is the spot. Dolittle Cottage. Do-<i>little</i> Cottage,” she +repeated, with an emphasis calculated to make her meaning apparent to the most +obtuse. “In the course of a few weeks we have become a preparatory school +and an orphan asylum.” She looked significantly at Peggy who sat on the +steps, feeding the speckled chicken from a spoon. “And our last +development is a theatrical agency. Well, I can’t say that it is exactly +my idea of a quiet, restful summer.”</p> + +<p>The hour of preparation was at its height, and the great occasion less than a +week away, when Peggy received news which sent her already buoyant spirits +climbing like a rocket. The rural delivery had brought her several letters, and +as Priscilla noticed, she pounced first on a missive in a business-like +envelope, with a typewritten address. She had hardly read two lines before she +interrupted herself with a joyous squeal.</p> + +<p>“Girls, isn’t it glorious! Elaine is coming Saturday.”</p> + +<p>“Elaine! Why, I thought she said she couldn’t.” <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span> Priscilla’s answer +was a little less spontaneous than usual.</p> + +<p>“Her mother and Grace have been invited somewhere, and they insisted on +her coming here. She’s worked so hard, and they feel she needs a +change.” Peggy was reading down the page, her bright face aglow with +anticipation, but Priscilla’s look indicated no corresponding pleasure, +and she answered with a non-committal murmur, when Peggy added, +“She’ll be here for the play. I’m so glad.”</p> + +<p>And Priscilla struggling to express a degree of satisfaction in the prospect, +did not guess how soon she would echo Peggy’s words from the bottom of her +heart.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span><a id='link_14'></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /><span class='h2fs'>AUNT ABIGAIL IS MISLAID</span></h2> + +<p>The little country schoolhouse had been the scene of varied activity that +morning. Even in term time, when the battered desks were occupied, it is a +question whether a forenoon’s program would have been more strenuous. +Equipped with tape-measures the girls had calculated to a nicety just how much +furniture the platform could accommodate, and still give the performers room to +make their entrances and exits without colliding with the armchair or +overturning the small table. The question of extra benches had also come up for +consideration, and the girls had demonstrated to their complete satisfaction +that two people of ordinary size could be seated comfortably at each desk. +Absorbed in these fascinating calculations, they had failed to notice how +rapidly the time was passing, till Dorothy began to complain of being +hungry.</p> + +<p>“You’re as good as an alarm-clock,” declared Priscilla, +consulting her watch. “It’s half-past eleven, Peggy.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span>“Is it? +Then we mustn’t wait another minute. If Aunt Abigail is back from her +walk, she may be hungry too.” Aunt Abigail had been invited to attend the +preliminary inspection of the schoolroom, but had declined, frankly avowing her +preference for a walk. Jerry had told her of a somewhat rare fern growing half a +mile from the cottage, and Aunt Abigail who intermittently was an enthusiastic +amateur botanist had professed a desire to see this particular species in its +native haunts.</p> + +<p>“Don’t hurry, Peg,” pleaded Amy, as the procession headed +for the cottage at a more rapid pace than Amy approved on a summer morning. +“It’s more than likely that she isn’t home yet. You know she +never thinks anything about the time if she’s interested.”</p> + +<p>As Amy’s conjecture was based on an intimate knowledge of Aunt +Abigail’s peculiarities, no one was surprised to find it correct. The +front door of the cottage was locked, and the key was hanging on a nail in full +view, a custom of the trusting community which had gradually come into favor at +Dolittle Cottage. The girls trooped indoors, and preparations for dinner began +forthwith, even Dorothy lending her aid. Dorothy loved to shell peas, that +ordinarily prosaic task being enlivened by the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_220'></a>220</span> certainty that she would drop at least two-thirds +of the agile vegetables, and be compelled to pursue them into the most unlikely +hiding-places.</p> + +<p>The peas were shelled at last, and Dorothy comforted for the untimely fate of +several luckless spheres which had rolled under the feet of preoccupied workers, +and, according to Dorothy, had been “scrunched.” Another twenty +minutes and Peggy announced that dinner was ready. “If Aunt Abigail would +only come. Things won’t be so good if they wait.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t be so good if <i>I</i> wait, either,” Dorothy +declared. “’Cause it makes me cross to get hungry.”</p> + +<p>Dorothy was provided with an aid to uprightness in the shape of a slice of +bread and butter, and the others seated themselves on the porch to await Aunt +Abigail’s return. It is an open secret that time spent in waiting +invariably drags. The wittiest find their ideas deserting them under such +circumstances. The most congenial friends have nothing to say to each other. +There are, as a rule, any number of things one can do while one is waiting, but +unluckily there is nothing one feels inclined to do. Up till one o’clock +conversation was spasmodic. For the next half hour silence reigned, and each +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span> face became +expressive of a sense of injury and patient suffering. At quarter of two, open +revolt was reached.</p> + +<p>“Peggy, how much longer are you going to wait?” Amy demanded. +“Everything is probably spoiled by now.”</p> + +<p>Peggy did her best to be encouraging. “Oh, not exactly spoiled. But it +doesn’t do a dinner any good to wait an hour or two after it is +cooked.”</p> + +<p>“Why not sit down? She’s sure to be here by the time we’re +fairly started,” suggested Ruth.</p> + +<p>“I’d as soon wait as not.” Claire’s face was +angelically patient. “I haven’t a bit of appetite any more. I +suppose it’s because my head always begins to ache so if I don’t eat +at the regular hour.”</p> + +<p>Peggy rose to her feet rather hastily. “Come on,” she said +briskly. “We’ll begin. Probably that’ll be just the way to +bring her.” And she wondered why it was that Claire’s patient +sweetness was so much more trying than Amy’s fretful complaint.</p> + +<p>But the device for bringing Aunt Abigail home proved unsuccessful. Peggy put +her dinner on the back of the stove to keep warm, and it was still simmering, +undisturbed, when the platter and the various serving dishes on the table had +been scraped <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span> +clean, for the loss of appetite of which Claire complained was by no means +universal. The work of clearing the table and washing the dishes was usually +protracted, for every other minute some one ran out on the porch to see if Aunt +Abigail were approaching. By three o’clock a general uneasiness began to +make itself evident.</p> + +<p>“I believe I’ll go over to the place where those ferns +grow,” Peggy declared. “Even if she’s forgotten all about her +dinner, it can’t be good for her to go so long without eating. Don’t +you want to come with me, Amy?”</p> + +<p>Amy, who seemed less concerned than any of the company, blithely accepted the +invitation. “We’ll probably find her with a great armful of ferns +and her hat tipped over one ear, and she’ll be perfectly astonished to +know that it’s after twelve o’clock. Oh, you don’t know Aunt +Abigail as well as I do.”</p> + +<p>But though they searched the section of the woods Jerry had designated as the +<i>habitat</i> of the rare fern, and called Aunt Abigail’s name at +frequent intervals, there was no answer, nor did they find anything to indicate +that there had been an earlier visitor to the locality. Amy’s confidence +seemed a little shaken by this discovery and she made no objection to the +rapidity of their return <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_223'></a>223</span> to the cottage. Ruth came hurrying out to meet +them. “Has she come?” Amy called, her voice betraying her change of +mood.</p> + +<p>“No. Haven’t you found her?” It was of course an +unnecessary question, for the anxious faces of the two girls would have told +that their quest had been unsuccessful, even if their failure had not been +sufficiently demonstrated by the fact that Aunt Abigail was not accompanying +them.</p> + +<p>“We’d better go right over to Coles’,” Peggy said +after a minute’s pause. “Perhaps Mrs. Cole found she was alone, and +asked her to dinner.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve been there,” was Ruth’s disappointing reply. +“And I went down to Mrs. Snooks’, too. I thought Aunt Abigail might +have gone there to borrow something. You know she was so unwilling to give up +the idea. But Mrs. Snooks was sitting out on the porch, and she said she +hadn’t seen her.”</p> + +<p>The others had gathered around them as they stood talking. The speckled +chicken, who, as a result of being brought up “by hand,” was +developing an extravagant fondness for human society, came up peeping shrilly, +evidently under the impression that in so sizable a gathering, there must be +some one who had nothing better to do than minister <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span> to his wants. Hobo, too, made his +appearance, and he alone of the company gave no sign of mental disturbance. Amy +pushed him away impatiently as he rubbed against her, the effect of worry on +Amy’s temperament having the not unusual result of making her +short-tempered. Then a bright idea flashed into her head.</p> + +<p>“Peggy, maybe he could track her.”</p> + +<p>“Who could?”</p> + +<p>“Why, Hobo. We can let him smell something Aunt Abigail has worn, and +then if he’s any good, he ought to be able to follow the trail. I +don’t see how we’re going to hunt for her, unless we try something +like that.”</p> + +<p>Peggy did not regard the suggestion in a particularly hopeful light, but at +the same time she had nothing better to suggest. To continue the search for Aunt +Abigail without a single clue as to the direction she had taken, was not unlike +looking for the proverbial needle in the haymow. Accordingly, Peggy followed +without protest, while the other girls, relieved by the mere suggestion of a +definite program, hurried into the house and up the stairs to Aunt +Abigail’s room. A moment later they reappeared, each bearing something +selected from Aunt Abigail’s belongings.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span>The various +articles were deposited in a circle about Hobo, as if he had been a heathen +idol, and Aunt Abigail’s worsted shawl and silk work-bag, votive +offerings. Hobo did not in the least understand the meaning of this new game, +but he was pleased to find himself the centre of attention, and thumped his tail +against the porch with a sound like persistent knocking.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe I’d give him this,” exclaimed Peggy, +picking up the work-bag and sniffing thoughtfully. “It smells so strong of +peppermint that it’s likely to mislead him.”</p> + +<p>“She always carried peppermint drops in that bag,” said Amy. The +use of the past tense was such an unconscious admission of fearing the worst, +that the girls looked at one another aghast. And then Peggy, with a desperate +realization that something must be done, and that immediately, seized the +worsted shawl, and knelt down before Hobo. “Find her, good fellow,” +she urged, holding the wrap close to the dog’s nose.</p> + +<p>Over the fleecy mound, Hobo regarded Peggy with bright, intelligent eyes. +“He’s smelling of it,” said a thrilled voice in the +background.</p> + +<p>“Yes, and he looks as if he understood,” cried another voice. +“See how his eyes shine.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span>Even +Peggy’s doubts were vanishing before Hobo’s air of absorbed +attention. “Find her, Hobo,” she insisted. “Find Aunt +Abigail.”</p> + +<p>The little group stood breathless, while Hobo descended the steps, and nose +to earth, followed the winding gravelled path for half its distance. Then taking +an abrupt turn, he struck off across the lawn. Their hearts in their mouths the +girls hurried after. Peggy heard Priscilla just behind her, saying that it was +perfectly wonderful. Priscilla had always retained a trace of her first +disapproval of Hobo’s admission into the family circle, and even at that +anxious moment, Peggy felt a little thrill of satisfaction over the fact that +the wisdom of her charity had been vindicated.</p> + +<p>Hobo ambled across the lawn, stopped abruptly at the foot of the pear-tree, +and there seated himself, looking up into the branches, and wagging his tail, +with an air of having abundantly satisfied his own expectations. Peggy’s +efforts to induce him to take up the trail were useless. Familiar as they all +were with Aunt Abigail’s eccentricities, it was impossible to believe that +she had improved the occasion of their absence to climb a pear-tree, especially +as its fruit had been gathered weeks earlier. Moreover, even granting the +possibility of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span> so +erratic a proceeding, she must have descended from her perch, unless she had +continued her journey by airship. Peggy brought the worsted shawl, and renewed +her appeals and commands, while Hobo continued to wag his tail, apparently under +the impression that he was being praised for some remarkable achievement.</p> + +<p>“There’s no use wasting any more time,” Amy cried at last, +“on a dog as stupid as that one.”</p> + +<p>“He never pretended to be a bloodhound,” said Peggy, her sense of +justice driving her to the defence of her protégé. And then she dropped the +shawl and ran to meet Jerry Morton, whose cheery whistle usually announced his +coming some time in advance of his actual arrival.</p> + +<p>Jerry had come to ask the opinion of the company as to the advisability of +occupying the second intermission by a banjo duet. But before he could introduce +the subject, his attention was claimed by the news of Aunt Abigail’s +mysterious disappearance. As all the girls talked at once, the resulting +explanation was somewhat confused, and Jerry gathered the impression that Hobo +was being held responsible for driving Aunt Abigail into the pear-tree. +Corrected on this point, his face suddenly acquired an expression of extreme +seriousness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span>“I saw +long ’bout noon–but ’tain’t likely that had anything to do +with it.”</p> + +<p>“What was it?” cried the girls in chorus, each conscious of a +chilly sensation in the neighborhood of the spine. And Amy added fiercely, +“If you know anything, Jerry, tell it quick! We’re losing lots of +time.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it was a band of gypsies.”</p> + +<p>There was a minute of awed silence. “But you don’t +think–” Amy began, and paused helplessly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think anything but–well, they had three +wagons–you know the kind–and in the bottom of the last one, I could +see somebody lying stretched out and all covered over with a blanket. I thought +most likely one of the men had been drinking and was just sleeping it off. But, +of course–”</p> + +<p>Jerry paused, overwhelmed at the sight of the horror depicted on the faces of +his auditors. Vainly he racked his brain for a less harassing explanation of the +fact that Aunt Abigail had disappeared some time during the forenoon, and at +five o’clock was still missing. Peggy, her lips very white, attempted to +reassure herself and the others, by attacking the theory he had suggested.</p> + +<p>“But, Jerry, what would gypsies want with an <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span> old lady like Aunt Abigail? I thought +they only stole babies.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and they come back after a while and claim their fathers’ +estates,” chimed in Amy hysterically.</p> + +<p>Jerry would have liked to be consoling, but did not see his way clear to that +end. He accordingly observed that real gypsies would steal anything they could +lay their hands on. And when he had finished this expression of his inmost +convictions, Amy burst into tears.</p> + +<p>“Oh, why are we wasting time?” she cried. “We ought to get +Mr. Cole and Joe and all the men around to drive after those people and see who +was under that blanket. Oh, dear. Oh, dear!”</p> + +<p>Dorothy was pulling Peggy’s skirt. “Aunt Peggy! Aunt Peggy, +listen!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, hush, Dorothy. I can’t attend to you.”</p> + +<p>“But listen, Aunt Peggy–”</p> + +<p>“Dorothy, you’re a naughty girl. I can’t listen.”</p> + +<p>Dorothy too burst into sobs. “I just wanted to tell you,” she +wailed, “that Aunt Abigail was a-sitting on the porch.”</p> + +<p>Peggy spun about. The astonishing news was true. On the porch sat Aunt +Abigail, swaying slightly in one of the willow rockers, with her meditative +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> gaze fixed on the +western sky. After the first inevitable half minutes of stupefaction, there was +a wild rush for the house.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me I never saw the sky prettier,” was Aunt +Abigail’s astonishing beginning. But no one was in the mood to join her in +discussing the beauties of nature. “Where have you been?” was the +cry echoed from lip to lip.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt, and for the first time since +undertaking the chaperonage of the Terrace girls, she looked a trifle +discomfited.</p> + +<p>“I found such an interesting story in the garret,” she said, +“a continued story it was, and it ran through an entire year, fifty-two +numbers. I had a little difficulty in finding every instalment, but I succeeded +at last. You girls will enjoy reading it. I am afraid–” Aunt Abigail +glanced uneasily at the rosy west, and left the sentence unfinished. “I +hope,” she said instead, “that you didn’t wait dinner for +me.”</p> + +<p>“But the door was locked,” said Peggy, finding it almost +impossible to believe that their alarm had been groundless.</p> + +<p>“Yes. I thought it wasn’t quite safe to leave the door unlocked, +when I would be in the third story, but I didn’t want to have to hurry +down to <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span> let you +in. I locked the front door on the outside, and hung up the key. Then I went in +by the back door and locked it on the inside.”</p> + +<p>“And you mean that you’ve been in the garret all these +hours?” cried Amy in accents of exasperation. Her face gave no hint of its +usual easy-going good-nature. Though the tears were still undried upon her +cheeks, ominous lightning played in her eyes. It really looked as if she could +not easily forgive Aunt Abigail for her failure to be kidnapped by gypsies.</p> + +<p>And just at the right moment somebody giggled. Among other benefits that +laughter confers on the race, it not infrequently serves as a lightning +conductor. With all the anxiety they had suffered, the situation was ludicrous +nevertheless. While they had agonized below stairs, Aunt Abigail had sat on the +garret floor, absorbed in a sensational serial story, oblivious to everything +but the next chapter. An uncontrollable titter went the rounds. It gained +volume, like a seaward flowing brook. It swelled to a roar. And Amy, who for a +moment had stood silent and disdainful, as if she defied the current to sweep +her off her feet, gave up all at once, and laughed with the rest.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail laughed too, though more as if <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_232'></a>232</span> she wished to appear companionable than because she +really saw the joke. When the silence of exhaustion followed the uproar, and the +girls were wiping their wet eyes and each avoiding the glances of her neighbor, +for fear of going off into another paroxysm, Aunt Abigail made a remark which +helped to explain her failure to enter into the fun.</p> + +<p>“I really hope you didn’t wait dinner,” repeated Aunt +Abigail politely. “And if–if it’s the same to the rest of you, +I vote for an early supper.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span><a id='link_15'></a>CHAPTER XV<br /><span class='h2fs'>PRISCILLA’S LOOKING-GLASS</span></h2> + +<p>“In less than twenty-four hours Elaine will be here.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve been saying that for a week,” Priscilla commented +tartly. The two girls had the porch to themselves, Priscilla stretched her lazy +length in the hammock, while Peggy had curled herself into the biggest chair in +a position which only a kitten or a school girl could by any possibility +consider comfortable. Life at Dolittle Cottage was not favorable to +<i>tête-à-têtes</i>, and Priscilla found ground for a grievance in the fact that +on one of the rare occasions when they were alone together, Peggy should occupy +the time in discussing the approaching visit of another friend. Though Priscilla +had been making a gallant fight against her besetting weakness, it occasionally +took her off her guard.</p> + +<p>“If I’ve been saying that for a week,” observed Peggy with +unruffled good nature, “I’ve been talking <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span> nonsense. For this is the first day +it’s been true.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be silly, Peggy. You know perfectly well what I mean. For +a week you haven’t been able to talk of anything but Elaine’s +coming.”</p> + +<p>Peggy made no reply. There was a critical note in the accusation which she +found vaguely irritating, and it seemed to her the wisest course to let the +matter drop where it was. But Priscilla was in the unreasonable mood when even +silence is sufficient ground for resentment.</p> + +<p>“Dear me, Peggy, I didn’t mean to reduce you to absolute +dumbness. By all means talk of Elaine, if that’s the only topic of +interest.”</p> + +<p>“See here, Priscilla!” Peggy straightened herself, an unwonted +color in her cheeks. For all her sweetness of disposition, she had a temper of +her own, and was perhaps no less lovable on that account. “I thought +we’d settled this thing long ago. You know I’m fond of +Elaine,” she went on steadily, “and after her hard year, I’m +delighted that she can have an outing up here with the rest of us. It +isn’t anything I’m ashamed of, and it isn’t anything +you’ve a right to call me to account for. I don’t care any the less +for you because I care for Elaine, too.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span>There are few +better tests of character than its response to frankness. A girl of another sort +would have found in this straightforward speech additional cause for umbrage. +Priscilla showed that her faults were only superficial after all, by her +immediate surrender.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Peggy,” she exclaimed, a choke in her voice. “You +don’t need to tell me that. I don’t know what ails me sometimes. I +should think you’d lose all patience with me.”</p> + +<p>A tear splashed down upon her cheek, and Peggy, surprised and touched, leaned +forward to pat the heaving shoulder consolingly. “Never mind, dear. We +won’t say another word about it.”</p> + +<p>“Just one more,” pleaded Priscilla. “You know, Peggy, that +even when I’m hateful, I love you better than anybody in the world except +my father and mother. But if you weren’t the dearest girl on +earth–”</p> + +<p>The screen door flew open, and slammed shut with an explosive effect which +might have startled listeners unused to such phenomena. But in a cottage filled +with young folks, doors are so likely to slam that this miniature thunder-clap +did not cause either head to turn. It was rather the singular silence following +which led Peggy to lift her eyes, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_236'></a>236</span> and it was the expression on Peggy’s face +which brought Priscilla to the realization that something out of the ordinary +was taking place.</p> + +<p>Claire stood by the screen door, her hands clenched, her face scarlet, her +whole demeanor indicating the intensity of her struggle for self-control. +Priscilla looked at her aghast, all sorts of alarming speculations racing +through her mind. “Oh, what is the matter?” she cried.</p> + +<p>“I heard every word.”</p> + +<p>“You heard–” Priscilla broke off, and turned on Peggy a +blank face. “Do you know what she means? What has she heard?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you needn’t try to get out of it,” Claire’s +voice was suddenly shrill and rasping. “So Miss Peggy Raymond is the +dearest girl on earth, is she, and you love her better than anybody in the +world! It won’t do any good for you to deny it.”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t any intention of denying it,” Priscilla replied, +choosing her words with care. Instantly she knew that this meant the end of the +friendship, which had by degrees become a burden rather than a joy. +Claire’s exactions, her extravagant protests of an affection which in its +expression proved itself to be nothing but self-love, had been the one +discordant <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span> note in +the summer’s harmony. To have the unreal bond dissolved, even in so +drastic a fashion, came as a relief. “I haven’t any wish to deny +it,” Priscilla repeated, as Claire gasped hysterically. “Everybody +who knows me knows that Peggy’s my best friend.”</p> + +<p>“And what about me?” The tragic tone of Claire’s inquiry +threw its absurdity into temporary eclipse. “I’m nobody, I suppose. +I can just be set aside when it suits your pleasure. And you called yourself my +friend.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Claire,” Peggy began, throwing herself into the breach with +her usual irresistible impulse toward peacemaking, but, to the angry girl, this +well-meant interference was additional provocation. “Oh, don’t you +say anything,” she cried, turning savagely on the would-be pacificator. +“You ought to be satisfied. It’s all your fault.”</p> + +<p>“My fault!” The accusation was too preposterous to be taken +seriously. Peggy could not keep from smiling.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I don’t wonder that you laugh,” exclaimed Claire, +finding in that involuntary twitching of the lips new fuel for her wrath. +“It’s what you’ve been plotting all the time, and now +you’ve done it, so, of course, you’re satisfied.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span>Peggy’s +impulse to laughter had passed. She turned rather pale, and sat silent, not +deigning to reply to such a charge, while Claire rushed on recklessly. “Of +course, after this, nothing would induce me to stay in this house another +night.”</p> + +<p>“I should hope not,” remarked Priscilla with deadly coldness. She +might have forgiven Claire’s attack on herself, but such treatment of +Peggy was not to be overlooked. The eyes of the two girls met like clashing +swords.</p> + +<p>But in spite of Claire’s declaration that nothing would induce her to +spend another night at Dolittle Cottage, when it was ascertained that the first +train on which she could take her departure left at ten o’clock next +morning, she did not seek the hospitality of Mrs. Snooks’ roof, nor even +suggest sleeping on the lawn. After her first paroxysm of anger was over, she +became abnormally and painfully polite, begged everybody’s pardon for +nothing at all, and proffered extravagant thanks for the simplest service. She +declined to come down to supper on the pretext that she was too busy packing. +And when Peggy carried up a well-laden tray, Claire received her with courteous +protests.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear me! You shouldn’t have done that. I had no idea of your +taking any trouble on my <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_239'></a>239</span> account. I’m not at all hungry, you +know.” Claire would have given much for sufficient strength of will to +refuse to taste another morsel of food in Dolittle Cottage, but being angry is, +unluckily, no safeguard against being hungry.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, the voice of Claire’s appetite was too insistent +to allow her to give herself the satisfaction of haughtily declining to profit +by Peggy’s thoughtfulness. “Just set the tray down anywhere,” +she continued, packing ostentatiously, “and if I get time and feel like +it, I’ll eat a mouthful.” And Peggy departed, relieved by her +sincere conviction that no one in the cottage would go to bed without a +satisfactory evening meal.</p> + +<p>As Claire was to leave at ten, and Elaine arrived at eleven, it was but +natural that the girls who were to meet the new arrival should accompany the +departing guest on the four-mile drive to the station. Indeed, if they depended +on the stage, it was necessary that they should go together, as this conveyance +made but one trip a day in each direction. Peggy did not wish to delegate to any +of the other girls the responsibility of meeting Elaine, whom she regarded as +her especial guest, and since Claire had come to the cottage on +Priscilla’s invitation, Peggy felt that it devolved on Priscilla to see +her <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span> off, in spite +of the unfortunate termination of the visit.</p> + +<p>“As for seeing her off, I shall be glad enough to do that,” +declared Priscilla, who, now that her tongue was loosed, was atoning for many +days of repression. “But, Peggy, I don’t see how I can stand a +four-mile drive with that girl.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be there too, honey, and with the stage driver listening to +every word, we can’t talk about anything except the scenery. Please come, +Priscilla. Don’t give her any excuse for thinking that you haven’t +done everything that could possibly be expected of you.”</p> + +<p>Accordingly, the stage calling the next morning found three passengers +awaiting its arrival, and the keenly observant driver, who occasionally turned +his head, and proffered an observation, in case the conversation languished, +must have formed an entirely new conception of girls of seventeen. Had they all +been seventy, and the merest acquaintances, they could not have treated one +another with more precise politeness, nor have conversed with greater decorum. +Altogether, Priscilla had some show of reason for referring later to the drive +as “ghastly.” Unluckily, Claire’s train was thirty minutes +late, and the tension was accordingly prolonged for that <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span> length of time. As Peggy attempted to +make conversation out of such material as the weather and the time Claire would +reach home, Priscilla was reflecting that if she were obliged to wait much +longer she would disgrace herself either by laughing or by crying, or by +indulging in both diversions at one and the same moment.</p> + +<p>But the whistle sounded in time to save Priscilla’s hardly tried +self-control. The girls shook hands primly. Peggy and Priscilla wished Claire a +pleasant journey. Claire replied by effusive thanks. At length, to the relief of +all three, she handed her suitcase to an obsequious porter and stepped aboard +the Pullman.</p> + +<p>“Now be ready,” Peggy cried, clutching Priscilla’s arm. +“Wave your hand if she looks out.” But Claire did not deign so much +as a glance at her late companions, and the train which bore her out of the +heart of the green hills, carried her forever out of the lives of the two who +watched her departure.</p> + +<p>The girls seated themselves on one of the station benches to await +Elaine’s train. Peggy was a little sober, for unjustified as she knew +Claire’s suspicions to be, she could not help asking herself how it was +that she had gained so little of Claire’s confidence <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_242'></a>242</span> in a summer’s association. And +Priscilla’s face, too, was overcast, but for a different reason.</p> + +<p>“Peggy,” she exclaimed abruptly, “do you know I feel as if +I’d been looking at myself in the mirror.”</p> + +<p>“Then you ought to feel more cheerful than you look,” returned +Peggy with a sweeping glance, and a smile, designed to express her conviction +that Priscilla was an unusually handsome girl.</p> + +<p>But Priscilla was not to be turned aside by the little compliment. “It +isn’t any reason to be cheerful. I mean, Peggy, that this affair with +Claire has just helped to show me what I’m like myself.”</p> + +<p>Peggy broke into excited protests, to which Priscilla listened unmoved.</p> + +<p>“It’s exactly the same thing. I’ve been jealous of Elaine +in just the same way she has been jealous of you. And both of us called it love, +when all the time it was just the meanest kind of selfishness. I wonder why it +is that your faults never look very bad till you see them in somebody +else.”</p> + +<p>“If you imagine that you’re like Claire Fendall,” +interjected Peggy, seething with indignation, “you’re badly +mistaken, that’s all.”</p> + +<p>But glad as Priscilla would have been to accept the comforting assurance she +shook her head with decision. “It’s exactly the same thing,” +she insisted. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span> +“But I really hope–Why, Peggy, what’s the matter?”</p> + +<p>If Peggy’s convulsive movement had not been sufficient to account for +the startled question, the expression of her face was abundant ground for the +inquiry. “Why, Peggy,” Priscilla repeated in real consternation, +“what is it? What has happened?”</p> + +<p>“I never thought of it till this minute. She’s spoiled +everything.”</p> + +<p>“Who? Claire? What has she spoiled?”</p> + +<p>“Our play,” groaned Peggy. “It comes off on Tuesday, and +has been advertised in the last three issues of the <i>Arena</i>. We can’t +possibly find anybody to take her place. What are we going to do?”</p> + +<p>“Dorothea Clarke played it last June. Why not telegraph for her to come +up. We just can’t have a fizzle at the last minute.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Dolly Clarke is in California! Somebody spoke of it in a letter +only last week.” Peggy groaned again. “I wonder if Claire +didn’t think that her going would spoil everything. Or if she just +didn’t care.”</p> + +<p>Priscilla was inclined to favor the latter hypothesis, yet even in her +resentment she realized that any amount of criticism of Claire would not save +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span> the situation. +Vainly the girls grappled with the problem, to end by looking at each other +despairingly.</p> + +<p>When Elaine stepped off the train at eleven o’clock she was immediately +conscious of missing something in her welcome. It was not that Peggy did not +seem glad to see her, for the steadfast eyes that met her own were beaming with +affection. Priscilla too was unusually cordial. And yet Elaine missed something, +the spontaneous overflowing of light hearts.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” she asked, looking from one to the other, as the +stage driver went for her little trunk. “Is anybody ill? Is anything +wrong? Somehow you look–”</p> + +<p>Peggy and Priscilla exchanged glances. Peggy laughed.</p> + +<p>“We might as well tell her now as later. Perhaps when that’s off +our minds, we’ll be able to think of something else. You know, I wrote you +about the benefit we got up for Lucy Haines.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’re going to give the little farce we learned for +commencement week. It happened that we four girls took all the principal parts +but one, and Claire Fendall agreed to take that. You were <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span> at one of our rehearsals last spring, +weren’t you? Well, this was Adelaide’s part.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I remember. The girl who was always losing her temper over +things.”</p> + +<p>“Well, unluckily, Claire lost her temper over something, and went home +just an hour ago. And the play is for Tuesday night. We can’t possibly +postpone it, because there is no way of getting word to the people. The paper +only comes out once a week. Did you ever hear of anything so +dreadful?”</p> + +<p>Elaine was musing. “If I remember, it isn’t such a very long +part.”</p> + +<p>“Why, it isn’t as long as Priscilla’s or mine, but Adelaide +is one of the leading characters. She couldn’t possibly be left +out.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t mean that. I was only going to suggest–” +Elaine hesitated, with a little of her old-time shyness. “I was only going +to say that if you couldn’t do any better, I’d take the +part.”</p> + +<p>“Take the part?” Peggy looked at her friend in an amazement which +temporarily obscured her gratitude. “But we give the thing Tuesday +night.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know.” Elaine smiled a little at the conflict of hope and +incredulity written on Peggy’s expressive face. “But I really have a +very quick <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span> memory, +Peggy, though I don’t retain things as long as lots of other people. And +before I came to Friendly Terrace I took part in school theatricals quite often. +I can’t promise to distinguish myself, but I’m sure I can get +through the part and save the day.”</p> + +<p>And then, to Elaine’s secret amazement, it was Priscilla’s arm +that went about her waist, and Priscilla’s voice that cried, with a thrill +of sincerity there was no mistaking:</p> + +<p>“Oh, Peggy, isn’t it splendid to have her here?”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span><a id='link_16'></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /><span class='h2fs'>PEGGY MAKES A SPEECH</span></h2> + +<p>The great occasion was at hand. Assisted by Joe and Jerry, the girls had +spent most of the day in the schoolhouse, with results that surprised +themselves. The platform had been slightly enlarged, to meet the exigencies of a +dramatic representation. Curtains of various colors and material provided +dressing-rooms for the actors, on either side of the stage. A screen brought +from Dolittle Cottage hid from view the blackboards back of the spot usually +occupied by the teacher’s desk. A rug covered the pine boards of the +platform, while a few chairs, a small table and a fern in a brass jardinier +produced the homelike effect the girls were after. Jerry was immensely proud of +the curtain, which, thanks to the pulleys he had arranged, worked as smoothly as +if it had been a professional curtain, instead of belonging strictly to the +amateur class. Peggy suspected that down in his heart Jerry believed that +curtain to be the most important and appealing feature of the prospective +entertainment.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span>While the girls +labored at the schoolhouse, Elaine sat on the porch of Dolittle Cottage, and +studied her part with such fixed attention as to be completely oblivious to the +charm of her surroundings. When Peggy came hurrying home to look after the +dinner she groaned self-reproachfully at the sight of Elaine’s furrowed +brow, and silently moving lips.</p> + +<p>“It’s a perfect shame! You came up here for a rest, and the first +thing we do is to set you to work–and such hard work.”</p> + +<p>“Two days of it won’t hurt me,” Elaine returned buoyantly. +“And you know, Peggy, I’m ever so glad to help out.” But it +was quite unlikely that Peggy realized the satisfaction Elaine experienced in +the knowledge that her opportune arrival meant the success of Peggy’s +scheme. Elaine had a deep-rooted antipathy to being under obligations, a +characteristic which has its root in wholesome independence, though it may +easily be carried too far. Nothing could have promised better for her enjoyment +of her little holiday than this unexpected opportunity to turn the tables on her +hostesses, and become the benefactor.</p> + +<p>Although two days seemed a very short time for mastering her part, Elaine +felt confident that she <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_249'></a>249</span> would make no serious slip. Her memory was quick, +and responded to the spur of necessity. If her attention wandered even for a +minute, she caught herself up, realizing how much depended on her application. +Luckily the <i>rôle</i> appealed to her, and for that reason was more readily +memorized. Though she had prefaced her offer with the assurance that she should +not distinguish herself in the part, she began to be hopeful that she would be +able to do more than repeat the lines mechanically.</p> + +<p>As the critical hour approached, Elaine was perhaps the least nervous of any +of the household, and she gleaned more than a little amusement from the efforts +of the others to reassure her. “You know I’ll be right there with +the book,” said Aunt Abigail, who had accepted the important post of +official prompter. “So it won’t be a serious matter if you +forget.” The others had similar encouragement to offer, some of it mingled +with good counsel. “Don’t lose your head if you get tangled +up,” Peggy warned her. “Because the rest of us know our parts +perfectly, and we can go on with it, even if something is left out.” And +Elaine, while agreeing not to lose her head, promised herself the satisfaction +of surprising the doubters.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250'></a>250</span>Early as the +girls reached the schoolhouse, they were not the first arrivals. Farmer +Cole’s Joe, transformed almost beyond recognition, by what he would have +designated as a “boiled shirt” and a high collar, had already quite +a little pile of tickets and silver ranged on the table before him. Jerry and +his orchestra were in their places. Jerry’s hand-painted necktie was, of +course, in evidence, while the pointed shoes creaked whenever he moved, as if in +protest against the exacting service that was being required of them at their +time of life. The Dolittle Cottage girls hurried past the observant eyes, and in +the improvised dressing-rooms found Lucy and Rosetta Muriel awaiting them. +Resentfully Rosetta Muriel had dressed according to Peggy’s +specifications, black dress and ruffled white apron, with a jaunty cap perched +on her fair hair. Then she had viewed herself in the mirror and had experienced +the surprise of her life.</p> + +<p>“Why, I look real pretty!” exclaimed Rosetta Muriel staring, but +there was no vanity in the observation. Rosetta Muriel announced it as a +scientist would proclaim the news of some discovery in physics. She tested the +accuracy of her impression by the help of a hand-mirror. She had not been +mistaken. “I really look pretty,” repeated <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span> Rosetta Muriel, and, for the first time +in her life, realized the æsthetic possibilities of simplicity.</p> + +<p>Her lingering grudge against Peggy in part dissipated by her scientific +discovery, vanished completely when Peggy removed the rain-coat and the heavy +veil which had obscured her charms. Peggy’s make-up was very successful in +effacing every suggestion of youth and girlish prettiness. Artistically designed +wrinkles made her look seventy-five at the least computation, and suggested in +addition, a quarrelsome disposition. Rosetta Muriel took one look, and gave way +to giggles.</p> + +<p>“My goodness, but you <i>are</i> a sight,” said Rosetta Muriel, +entirely forgiving Peggy for the prohibition of the apple-green silk. “Is +that a wig you’ve got on?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing but corn-starch,” replied Peggy, piling her wraps in the +corner. “Now, Elaine, you see, Aunt Abigail will sit right here, so you +needn’t be one bit nervous about forgetting. Hear the people coming. I +believe we’re going to have a full house.”</p> + +<p>This pleasant expectancy was confirmed by the continued and increasing +shuffling of feet over the bare schoolhouse floor and the hum of voices. The +time of waiting was somewhat trying for all the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_252'></a>252</span> performers, especially for the novices. Lucy +Haines, whose part consisted of a dozen sentences or less, grew gradually paler +and paler, till she looked like anything but a footlight favorite. Rosetta +Muriel smoothed her apron and adjusted her cap with the regularity of clockwork, +till it began to look as if both these serviceable articles would be worn out +before the little bell gave the signal for drawing the curtain.</p> + +<p>All at once the hum of voices outside took on a menacing volume. Behind the +curtain the girls were unable to distinguish a word, but judging from the sound, +an altercation was in progress. “What can be the matter?” demanded +Peggy, turning a startled face on the others.</p> + +<p>“Nothing to worry about, child,” said Aunt Abigail soothingly. +“Probably some of those young farmers are having some noisy fun.” +But the loud voices did not impress Peggy as suggesting good-natured nonsense. +And her apprehensions were presently confirmed by Jerry Morton, who slipped +under the curtains and came hurrying toward her. The boy’s face was +flushed, and he was breathing fast.</p> + +<p>“It’s that Cherry Creek crowd,” he exclaimed. +“They’re going to spoil everything.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253'></a>253</span>“The +Cherry Creek crowd?” Peggy repeated in bewilderment. “Oh, I +remember.” Vaguely she recalled the little settlement scattered along the +banks of Cherry Creek and taking its name from that unassuming stream. In the +opinion of Peggy’s neighbors, the young people of Cherry Creek were a +distinctly inferior class. Peggy had been inclined to set this down to +prejudice. In view of the demonstrations outside, she began to think that +possibly she had been mistaken.</p> + +<p>“A crowd of ’em drove over,” continued the exasperated +Jerry, “and more’s coming. And they say they won’t pay any +admission, ’less they can have seats. They say it’s our business to have +seats for everybody, the way we’ve been advertising this here +show.”</p> + +<p>In spirit Peggy groaned. It appeared that the too obliging <i>Weekly +Arena</i> had overshot the mark.</p> + +<p>“It’s going to spoil everything to have them standing up there at +the back of the room,” repeated Jerry. “They’ll get to +fooling, and shuffling ’round. They wouldn’t like anything better than to +upset the whole show. I’ll bet that’s what they came for.”</p> + +<p>“What are we going to do?” Peggy wrinkled her brows in the effort +to decide the question.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254'></a>254</span>“Joe says +he’s ready to take a hand in throwing out the whole bunch. There’s +some of our fellows here, good and husky, who’ll help. But he says if we +do that, we ought to do it quick, before the rest of the crowd gets +here.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly <i>not</i>.” And as Peggy vetoed one suggestion, her +groping brain seized on another. “Jerry, how far is Cherry +Creek?”</p> + +<p>“Eight miles, the nearest houses. Why can’t they stay to home and +get up their own shows, ’stead of coming all this way to spoil ourn?”</p> + +<p>Peggy’s answer was unexpected. She pushed past Jerry, mounted to the +platform, and pulling aside the curtain, stepped out before the uneasy audience. +A characteristic of leadership is the ability to dispense with advice in a +crisis. At that minute Peggy did not need to ask whether she were right.</p> + +<p>The clamorous voices died down at her appearance. There was an instant of +astonished silence, and then a roar of laughter. The laugh was something on +which Peggy had not counted, and for a moment, she was completely bewildered. +Peggy was on too good terms with her fellow beings to be afraid of them in bulk, +but she had forgotten that her grotesque appearance would naturally create <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255'></a>255</span> amusement, and the roar +of laughter took her unawares. For the first and only time in her life, she knew +the meaning of stage-fright.</p> + +<p>Then her momentary confusion passed. The faces which for a long moment had +seemed blended in one gigantic face, jeering and unfriendly, regained their +individuality. She saw them looking up at her with interest. The uproar was +quieting. She took a fresh grip on her self-control, and as she regained the +mastery of herself, she knew that she was mistress of the situation.</p> + +<p>“Ladies and Gentlemen!”</p> + +<p>The clear, girlish voice, in combination with Peggy’s aged appearance, +was incongruous enough to create further laughter, had the audience not been too +interested to hear what she was about to say, again to interrupt.</p> + +<p>“Ladies and Gentlemen, first of all, I want to thank you for coming. +All of you know, I’m pretty sure, that the proceeds of this entertainment +go to help one of your own girls who wants an education. And the way +you’ve turned out shows how glad you all are to help.”</p> + +<p>She paused an instant, to be sure that the time had come to broach her +proposition. The aspect of her listeners was reassuring. Nearly every face <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256'></a>256</span> raised to hers was +smiling. Even the Cherry Creekers wore an air of conscious virtue.</p> + +<p>“But, Ladies and Gentlemen, there is one little embarrassment we +hadn’t counted on, an embarrassment of riches, you might call it. There +are too many people here for the schoolhouse. A number are standing, and it +would be impossible for them to enjoy an entertainment as long as this without +having seats.”</p> + +<p>The smiles vanished as Peggy approached the delicate point. The Cherry +Creekers no longer looked virtuous, but rather defiant.</p> + +<p>“Now, I’m going to make a suggestion, Ladies and Gentlemen. Part +of our audience has come quite a long way. We don’t want them to go home +without seeing what they came for. But you who live near could come out +to-morrow night. Now I’m going to ask those of you who live in the +neighborhood to give your seats up to the friends who have come so far for the +sake of helping us.” (Sensation in the audience.) “Your money will +be returned as you pass out, and we shall hope to see every one of you here +to-morrow evening. Positively no postponement, Ladies and Gentlemen, on account +of the weather.”</p> + +<p>The silence that followed was of the briefest possible <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_257'></a>257</span> duration. In nine cases out of ten, a +frank, tactful appeal to the generosity of an American crowd proves successful. +Somebody started to clap, and all at once the schoolhouse shook with applause, +even the disappointed succumbing to the contagion and clapping as +enthusiastically as any one. And then when Mr. Silas Robbins rose to his feet +and ushered his wife and daughter from the building, the crisis was safely +past.</p> + +<p>What with returning the money of half the audience, and receiving the +quarters of the other half, for the Cherry Creek crowd was making haste to pay +up, Farmer Cole’s Joe had his hands full. He reached for his money box as +the Robbins family filed past, but the head of the house checked him with a +genial gesture.</p> + +<p>“Never you mind the money, Joe,” said Mr. Robbins. “That +girl’s speech was wuth it. She’s a corker.” He chuckled +admiringly. “The way she can get ’round folks and make ’em do as she +says beats the Dutch. If she was a boy now, it’s dollars to doughnuts that +she’d get to be president.” He went on his way, still chuckling, and +at the door encountered the second delegation from Cherry Creek.</p> + +<p>It was doubtless due to the earlier excitements <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_258'></a>258</span> of the evening that Peggy came so near +disaster later. They had reached the second act most successfully, and the +audience had laughed at every suggestion of a joke, and when the curtain was +drawn, had joined in tumultuous applause, piercing cat-calls blending +euphoniously with the clapping of hands, and the stamping of feet. And then +Peggy, who knew the entire comedy from beginning to end, and could have taken +any part at five minutes’ notice, stumbled in her lines, and to her +horror, found her mind a blank.</p> + +<p>She looked toward Aunt Abigail, but unluckily the prompter had been so +carried away by her enjoyment of the presentation, that she was listening +delightedly, quite unmindful of her professional duties. As she met +Peggy’s appealing gaze, she started violently, and an excited flutter of +leaves conveyed to Peggy the unwelcome information that Aunt Abigail had lost +her place.</p> + +<p>Oddly enough, it was Elaine who came to the rescue. In playing her part, +practically without rehearsals, Elaine had found it necessary to familiarize +herself with the general dialogue of the little comedy. While the other girls +stood stricken dumb by the realization that Peggy had forgotten, the opening +sentence of the deferred speech flashed into <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_259'></a>259</span> Elaine’s mind. “‘But I demand the +proof,’” she said in a sharp whisper.</p> + +<p>Instantly Peggy was herself again. “But I demand the proof,” she +cried, and swept commandingly toward the centre of the stage. The pause, which +had seemed such a long hiatus to the little group on the platform, was hardly +noticed by the audience. Aunt Abigail glued her eyes to the page and did not +look away again till the next intermission. Peggy gave herself a mental shaking +and her fellow actors took a long breath, while the audience laughed +delightedly, quite unaware of the little by-play.</p> + +<p>Not till the second act was finished, and Jerry’s orchestra was +rendering a spirited Spanish fandango, a score of feet beating time, did Peggy +find opportunity to express her sense of obligation.</p> + +<p>“You darling!” She caught Elaine in her arms, and hugged her +mightily. “That’s twice you’ve pulled us out of a hole. If the +audience knew all that we do, they’d pick Adelaide for the star of this +performance.” And indeed, considering the disadvantages under which Elaine +had labored, Peggy’s generous tribute was hardly exaggerated.</p> + +<p>The play was repeated on the second evening to <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_260'></a>260</span> an equally crowded and appreciative +house. Indeed, the audience which had obligingly retired in favor of the +visitors from a distance, reaped the reward of its generosity, for the second +performance was distinctly better than the first. Lucy and Rosetta Muriel, who +had gained confidence from one public appearance, spoke their few lines in +distinct, audible voices, which was as much as the parts required. Elaine had +had one more day to study her part, and was able to do it better justice than on +the preceding evening. As for Peggy, since her thoughts were not distracted by +the necessity of making a speech, she was in as little danger of forgetting her +lines, as of forgetting her name.</p> + +<p>On the whole, they had every reason to congratulate one another, and when the +audience had dispersed, the performers lingered with a few outsiders especially +interested, to say again and again, how well everything had gone off, and how +pleased every one had seemed. And Joe added convincing testimony to the +correctness of the verdict.</p> + +<p>“When folks pay more than they’ve <i>got</i> to pay for a thing, +it comes pretty near being a success. Why, there was a half a dozen said to me +they didn’t care for no change, and two of ’em were Cherry Creekers. +What do you think of that? <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_261'></a>261</span> And Deacon Bliss, he paid three admissions with a +five-dollar bill, and said it was all right.”</p> + +<p>“How much do you think we’ve made, Joe?” Peggy asked.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve just been counting it up. The tickets cost a dollar +fifty, and Jerry spent a little for wire and stuff for the curtain. But I guess +you’ve got, above all that, as much as forty dollars.”</p> + +<p>Peggy turned and looked at Lucy Haines. Silently Lucy looked back at her. And +without a word on the part of either, it was plain that one had spoken and the +other answered.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262'></a>262</span><a id='link_17'></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /><span class='h2fs'>A PLAIN TALK</span></h2> + +<p>There was trouble in the poultry yard. Whether over-indulgence in a +grasshopper diet was accountable, or the responsibility was to be laid at the +door of early morning rambles through damp grass, Peggy was not sure, but the +condition of the three chickens still under the charge of the yellow hen was +plainly alarming. The wretched little creatures hardly had strength to peep, +still less to follow their energetic mother on the excursions she showed no +intention of relinquishing, out of regard to the health of her family. Peggy +found it necessary again to confine her to the small coop she had occupied +previously, and the yellow hen indicated her dissatisfaction with the cramped +quarters. While she thrust her long neck through the slats and scolded +clamorously, her family of three stood about in varying attitudes of dejection, +indifferent to the corn-meal mush Peggy spread lavishly before them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263'></a>263</span>The neighborhood +authorities, whom Peggy naturally consulted, pronounced the chickens suffering +from “pip” and prescribed weird remedies. Jerry Morton was appealed +to along with the rest, and surprised Peggy by professing complete ignorance of +the subject.</p> + +<p>“I’ve heard my grandmother talk about the pip, but I don’t +know what it’s like. I don’t know nothing about chickens +anyway.”</p> + +<p>“That’s queer,” remarked Peggy musingly, “when you +know so much about birds.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, birds!” The boy’s face lighted up. “Birds is +different. They’ve got their own way of doing things, and one kind +ain’t any more like another than folks is. You ought to see a pair of old +birds teaching a young one to fly. If he hasn’t got spunk enough to get +out of the nest himself, they’ll push him over, and then they’ll fly +around him, and keep on talking and talking and saying how easy it is, and show +him how. And then when he tries they praise him up, as if he was a perfect +wonder, and he begins to think he’s pretty smart himself.” Jerry +chuckled, as if recalling such a scene as he was so vividly describing, and +Peggy watched him thoughtfully but without speaking. She had learned long before +that Jerry was most <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_264'></a>264</span> likely to discuss the subjects nearest his heart +when stimulated by silent attention.</p> + +<p>“Some people talk as if folks was the only things with sense,” +Jerry continued, “but seems to me they’ve got about the least. Why, +you can’t lose a bird or a bee. And the orneriest little spider knows +enough to play dead if you poke him. Inside he’s pretty near scared to +death, but he’s got too much sense to cut and run the way a man would. He +curls up his legs, and makes himself look withered up, so you’ll say, ‘Oh, +shucks! he’s dead already. What’s the use of killing him over +again?’”</p> + +<p>Peggy’s smile proved her to be paying close attention, and Jerry went +on. “Now, most folks think one bird’s as good as another. Why, +there’s thieves and robbers among birds same as men. A blue-jay’s +one of the worst, and my, how the other birds hate him! Once I saw a whole crowd +of ’em chasing a jay. It was a reg’lar bird mob, all kinds in it, thrushes +and cat-birds, and robins, and song-sparrows. They were all small birds +’longside of the jay, but together they were too much for him, I can tell you. +And he dodged and ducked around till he see ’twasn’t no use, and then he +dropped what he’d stole and they let him go.”</p> + +<p>“And what had he stolen?” asked Peggy.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265'></a>265</span>“A little +bird just hatched out of some nest. You needn’t tell me that birds +don’t have a language. The father and mother, they hollered to some of +their neighbors that a jay was ’round kidnapping, and the chase started. And +every bird they met, they’d say, ‘Come on, boys! Let’s make it hot +for this old robber.’ And they did too.” Jerry caught himself up, +and cast a suspicious glance at Peggy’s attentive face. He had early +learned to keep to himself the dialogues he imagined as taking place between his +friends of field and forest, as any attempts at confidence on his part had +invariably called out derision or reproof. He was glad to assure himself that +Peggy was listening respectfully, though he realized that her silence had lured +him on to say much more than he had intended.</p> + +<p>“Jerry,” remarked Peggy, breaking the brief pause that had fallen +between them, “did you ever hear of Audubon?”</p> + +<p>“What’s that? Do you mean the language for everybody to learn, so +that Japs and Dagoes and us folks can talk together, same as if we’d been +raised ’longside each other?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no! That’s Volapük you’re talking about, Jerry. +Audubon was a man.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_266'></a>266</span>“Oh!” Apparently Jerry had lost +interest.</p> + +<p>“And the reason I wondered if you knew about him is that sometimes you +remind me of him.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” And the change in Jerry’s inflection showed the +change in his mental attitude.</p> + +<p>“Yes, he loved birds just as you do. Dick had to write a composition +about Audubon last spring, and I helped him in reading up for it. That’s +how I happen to know so much about him.”</p> + +<p>With this preface Peggy began. The life of the great ornithologist would need +to be told very unsympathetically, not to be a dramatic and appealing recital. +The story of the enthusiast who found no toil irksome which furthered his +research, however unreliable he might prove in the humdrum occupation of earning +a livelihood, was calculated to impress the boy who realized that his +matter-of-fact neighbors had long before catalogued him as a thriftless +ne’er-do-well. The great man’s hardships, his persistence, and his +prosperous and honored old age, made up a fascinating story. Peggy, noticing the +effect upon her listener, was more than satisfied.</p> + +<p>“Well, he got there, didn’t he?” Jerry kicked a pebble out +of his way, and frowned reflectively. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_267'></a>267</span> “I guess the folks that thought him a +good-for-nothing must ’a’ been surprised.”</p> + +<p>“But there were a great many who believed in him,” Peggy +suggested. “I think he was very fortunate in his friends. In fact, that +was one of the things that helped him. He made friends wherever he +went.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that ain’t like me.” Jerry’s tone indicated a +grim satisfaction in the extent of his unpopularity, which Peggy recognized as a +bad sign.</p> + +<p>“That’s a pity,” she said gravely. “Because +nobody’s big enough to get along all by himself. Everybody needs friends +to help him.”</p> + +<p>Jerry became meditative. That he had rightly interpreted the meaning of +Peggy’s story, and applied it as she wished, was apparent when he broke +out impatiently, “Why, if I should try to draw pictures of birds, folks +would just laugh at me. I couldn’t make ’em look like +anything.”</p> + +<p>“No, I suppose not. Audubon had to learn. That’s another mistake +of yours, Jerry, to think that you can get along without books and teachers. +You’ve found out a lot by yourself, but that’s no reason why you +shouldn’t have the help of all the things other people have been +discovering. It’s <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_268'></a>268</span> just as I said about friends. Everybody can help, +and everybody needs to be helped.”</p> + +<p>“I’m too old to go to school,” Jerry replied despondently. +And the answer, coupled with his dejected manner, was to Peggy an indication of +a success she had hardly dared to hope for. Jerry realized his lacks. The armor +of his complacency had been pierced. Then there was hope for him.</p> + +<p>“How old are you, Jerry?”</p> + +<p>“Sixteen in September.” He hung his head, as if ashamed of his +advanced years. And at Peggy’s laugh, his face flushed hotly.</p> + +<p>“The reason that sounds so funny,” Peggy explained, “is +because I was thinking of a friend of my father’s. He’s a college +professor, and sometimes he comes to visit us in his vacation. He was twenty +when he first learned to read and write. How’s that for a late start? And +see where he’s got to!”</p> + +<p>Jerry leaned toward her confidentially. “It’s this way,” he +said. “I wouldn’t mind going to school if it ’twasn’t for +ringing in with a lot of kids. I couldn’t stand that, you know.” He +looked at Peggy, expectant of her ready sympathy. But to his surprise, her lip +had curled slightly. “Oh, of course,” she said, “if +you’re afraid–”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_269'></a>269</span>“Afraid!” Jerry flung back his head. +“Me! I’m not afraid of nothing. Did I ever show you the rattle I got +off that big snake I killed? That doesn’t look much as if I was easy +scared.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know,” returned Peggy, quite unmoved, “but +that you might be afraid of being made fun of.”</p> + +<p>Jerry had nothing to say. Peggy proceeded to occupy the interval of +silence.</p> + +<p>“A boy graduated at one of our high schools a year ago, who had plenty +of pluck, I thought. He came from Russia, a Jew, you know, and when he got here +he couldn’t speak a word of English. He was fourteen then, and they +started him in the first grade. That was the only thing to do, I suppose. Well, +it really was a funny sight to see him going into school with those first-grade +tots. He was a big boy for his age, and he had to curl himself up to sit at one +of those tiny desks, so he must have been awfully uncomfortable. And, of course, +it looked queer. If he’d been a cowardly sort of boy,” observed +Peggy significantly, “I suppose he would have given up.”</p> + +<p>Jerry made no comment, unless an uneasy movement might have been interpreted +as such.</p> + +<p>“But he didn’t give up, and after a few months <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270'></a>270</span> he was promoted to the +second grade. And it took him even less time to get into the third. And then it +got so that we’d ask every morning what grade David had been promoted to. +Instead of laughing at him, everybody was proud of him.”</p> + +<p>Still no comment on Jerry’s part.</p> + +<p>“Well, as I said, he graduated from the high school a year ago last +spring. He stood second in his class. The boy who was ahead of him is the son of +a circuit judge. David was nineteen. In five years he had gone from the very +beginning to the end of the high school course. Now he’s in college, and I +don’t know what he’ll do after he graduates, but I’m sure it +will be something fine. Don’t you think that’s better than being +afraid of being laughed at, and settling down to be an ignorant laborer all his +life?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I guess it’s all right, if he felt like it.” Jerry +spoke with an elaborate carelessness. “Well, I must be going.” There +was a trace of resentment in his tone, more than a trace in his heart. +Jerry’s high opinion of Peggy had originally sprung from her appreciation +of his good qualities. It was a rather painful surprise to find that she +recognized his lacks. In fact, Jerry was inclined to think that she exaggerated +them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271'></a>271</span>“I +ain’t no coward, just because I don’t want to be cooped up in school +with a lot of kids,” he told himself angrily, as he walked away. Yet his +morning’s talk with Peggy had clouded his spirits. Long before Jerry had +come to accept with cheerful philosophy the disapproval of his neighbors. They +understood crops and dairying. He understood birds and trees, and, in his own +opinion, he was at no disadvantage in the comparison, but rather the opposite. +He regarded their knowledge as humdrum, and it did not disturb him that they +looked on his acquisitions as worthless.</p> + +<p>But with Peggy it was different. The naturalist who had impoverished himself +in his eagerness to study birds, she had held up to his admiration as a great +man. Jerry was sure that his neighbors would not so estimate him. They would +call him “shiftless,” the adjective that had been applied times +without number to Jerry himself. Peggy approved such research, and yet she found +fault with him. She thought he needed the help of the schools, of books, of +friends. Undoubtedly she had implied that he was a coward. Jerry winced at the +recollection.</p> + +<p>“I don’t have to go to school just to please her,” Jerry +boasted, but his declaration of independence <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_272'></a>272</span> failed to assuage that curious uneasiness that was +almost pain. He had disappointed a friend. His effort to forget that fact in +manufacturing resentment against Peggy proved quite unsuccessful.</p> + +<p>As for Peggy, she watched the vanishing figure rather ruefully, and was +inclined to think her morning’s effort wasted, if not worse. Like most +amateur gardeners, Peggy was fond of immediate results. She liked to see shoots +starting when the seed had hardly touched the soil, leaf and blossom following +with miraculous swiftness. Nature’s slow processes were trying to the +patience. Peggy watched Jerry out of sight, and then, her face unusually +thoughtful, made her way to the front porch which presented an unusually +populous appearance that morning. The day was rather warm, and a forenoon of +idleness had appealed to the household as preferable to a more strenuous form of +entertainment.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t they any better?” asked Elaine, noticing the +gravity of her friend’s face, but misinterpreting it.</p> + +<p>“Who? Oh, the chickens.” Peggy roused herself. “I +can’t say that I see any improvement. And if there’s anything that +looks more sickly than a sick chicken, I don’t know its name.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273'></a>273</span>“Well, +anyway, Freckles is perfectly healthy,” Ruth said encouragingly. +“And it’s all the more to your credit because you brought him up +yourself.” Some time before, the speckled chicken had asserted his +individuality to such an extent that a name had seemed a necessity, and after +considerable canvassing of the matter, “Freckles” had received a +majority vote. Freckles had long ceased to impress the observer as a pathetic +object. He was an energetic, pin-feathery creature, noted equally for his +appetite and his pugnacity. Dorothy who had not hesitated to bestride Farmer +Cole’s boar, and was absolutely fearless as far as Hobo was concerned, +retreated panic-stricken before Freckles’ advances. For owing to reasons +not apparent, Freckles found an irresistible temptation in Dorothy’s slim, +black-stockinged legs.</p> + +<p>Peggy shooed away the persistent Freckles, who had given up his designs upon +the gravel walk at her approach, and was pecking frantically at her +shoe-buttons, evidently under the impression that they were good to eat. +“Oh, he’s healthy enough,” she replied. “It begins to +look as if he’d be all I’d have to show for my poultry raising +experiment, and I had it all planned out how I’d spend the money for the +whole eighteen chickens.” Peggy <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_274'></a>274</span> joined in the laugh against herself before she +added cheerily: “Well, even if air-castles tumble down, it’s fun to +build them.”</p> + +<p>“And to build them over again,” suggested Aunt Abigail with a +smile. “Like castles little children build out of blocks.”</p> + +<p>It was fortunate that Peggy was able to take so philosophic a view of the +situation, for, before night, two of the little sufferers had succumbed to their +malady, and the yellow fowl, who could not wholly disclaim responsibility for +the misfortunes of her family, was left a hen with one chicken.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275'></a>275</span><a id='link_18'></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE CASTAWAYS</span></h2> + +<p>It really began to look as if Jerry were seriously offended. For several days +there had been no fresh fish at Dolittle Cottage. Peggy reproached herself for +having gone too fast. “I ought to have told him about Audubon and David +and let it soak in awhile. But when he started to talk about going to school, +there didn’t seem any way out of saying what I thought.”</p> + +<p>Jerry’s prolonged absence was very annoying to Peggy. Five minutes face +to face, she felt sure, would straighten out the tangle. Peggy had a not +unreasonable confidence in the efficacy of kindly frankness. If Jerry once +understood the friendliness of her criticism, it was impossible that he should +cherish a grudge against her.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, the mood which accounted for Jerry’s aloofness was +no more puzzling to Peggy than to Jerry himself. His first resentment of her +criticism had burned itself out for lack of fuel, and had been succeeded by a +restlessness unappeased <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_276'></a>276</span> by hours of tramping and climbing. For the first +time since he could remember, Jerry found himself looking ahead, questioning the +future. In spite of his real ability and his freedom from the more outbreaking +faults, Jerry had been progressing steadily toward utter worthlessness, by the +simple but effective method of always obeying the whim of the moment. The old +grandmother with whom he lived had long before given up all attempt to control +the boy, who was generally good-natured when allowed to do exactly as he +pleased. Jerry enjoyed himself, kept busy in his own way and returned the +disapproval of the community with interest.</p> + +<p>Under the influence of the girls at Dolittle Cottage, and of Peggy in +particular, Jerry’s attitude toward the world had been gradually changing. +He found to his surprise that he liked to be liked. The courteous attitude of +these strangers had raised him in his own estimation. The frequent appearance of +the hand-painted necktie and the pointed shoes–both of which had belonged +to Jerry’s father–was indicative of a change that went deep.</p> + +<p>The part he had taken in Lucy Haines’ benefit had also had its share in +his development. Strange <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_277'></a>277</span> to say, the extent of Jerry’s musical +attainments had proved a surprise, even to the people who had known him from +babyhood, and he had received more compliments since that occasion than had +fallen to his lot in his previous sixteen years of existence. Whereupon Jerry +made the discovery that the praise and admiration of one’s fellows is +pleasanter than their disapproval, and his youthful cynicism had weakened +accordingly.</p> + +<p>The effect of Peggy’s words on this new-born complacency was the havoc +of a hailstorm on premature buds. Just as he was beginning to enjoy the flavor +of approbation, his attention had been directed to his lacks and shortcomings. +He stayed away from Dolittle Cottage because his last visit had been responsible +for this present uneasy discomfort. He fished and hunted, rose early, and +wandered late, without succeeding in the effort which older and wiser people +have undertaken with equally poor success, the attempt to escape from +one’s self.</p> + +<p>One of the Snooks children was waiting for him when he came home late one +afternoon. Mrs. Snooks had hesitated when Peggy had asked to use one of the boys +as a messenger, not being sure that the loaning of her offspring for such a +purpose <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278'></a>278</span> was not +contrary to her newly acquired principles. The casual mention on Peggy’s +part of a dime to be awarded the messenger, had settled the question +satisfactorily, and little Andy Snooks, digging his bare toes into the yielding +earth, at last found the chance to do his errand.</p> + +<p>“They’s going to Snake River, them city girls. And She +says–” Jerry did not find the pronoun ambiguous–“She +says will you drive ’em?”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to be busy.”</p> + +<p>Little Andy stared unbelievingly.</p> + +<p>“They’s baking turnovers and things. She gave me a cooky with a +crinkled edge. ’Twas good, too, you bet.”</p> + +<p>“You tell ’em I’ll be busy.” Jerry pushed past Andy +and entered the house. He was astonished at the turmoil of his spirit. +“Wish she’d let me alone,” he said fiercely. “I’m +not bothering her none. I don’t see why she can’t leave me +be.”</p> + +<p>Peggy received the concise report of her messenger with a little grimace +which hid a real disappointment.</p> + +<p>“The silly boy!” she mused. “Next time I’ll go +myself. I simply won’t stand his sulking. It’s too absurd.” +Then she gave her attention to the more immediate problem.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279'></a>279</span>“Well, +girls, Jerry won’t drive us and Lucy can’t.” Lucy Haines was +devoting herself to making her meagre wardrobe ready for the opening of school, +and for her a holiday was out of the question. “Now, what are we going to +do? Give it up?”</p> + +<p>An indignant chorus negatived that suggestion. “I used to know +something about driving,” said Elaine, who seemed to have developed a +remarkable faculty for filling vacancies of almost any description. “But I +shouldn’t like to try to manage spirited horses. Now what are you all +laughing at?”</p> + +<p>“You could hardly call Nat and Bess spirited,” Peggy replied, +when she could make herself heard. “Not if you keep them away from +hornets’ nests, anyway.” She explained her qualification by telling +the story of the other memorable picnic, and the description of the two old +horses which Farmer Cole had placed at the disposal of the cottagers entirely +relieved Elaine’s uncertainty.</p> + +<p>“I’ll do it, then. I seem to be a regular Jack-at-a-pinch,” +she laughed.</p> + +<p>“You’re an emergency girl, and I’m proud of you,” +Peggy declared. “The wonder of it is that we’ve been able to get +along without you this summer. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_280'></a>280</span> Now that you’re here, you seem +indispensable.”</p> + +<p>Accordingly it happened that Jerry Morton, from a point of concealment in the +underbrush, watched a farm-wagon rattle past the following morning, the faces of +the occupants indicating high spirits, their voices blending jubilantly, in +spite of his rejection of the chance to share the day’s pleasure. +“The new one’s driving,” Jerry said to himself. “But +then, they could tie the lines to the whip stock and them two old plugs would +take ’em there all right, just so they didn’t fall down on the +way.” It was a relief to him to know that his refusal had not detracted +from the pleasure of the company, and yet he was inconsistent enough to resent +the gay chatter and the unclouded cheeriness of the smiling faces. He plunged +back into the woods, well aware that his surreptitious glimpse had not helped to +ease that inner disquiet.</p> + +<p>The drive scheduled for the morning was longer than that to Day’s +Woods, but the charm of their destination was worth the extra effort. The spot +to which they had been directed was a knoll on the river’s edge, crowned +by tall pine-trees, whose needles formed a fragrant carpet. Snake River was an +erratic stream, which, to judge from appearances, <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_281'></a>281</span> lived up to the principle of always +following the line of the least resistance. It turned and twisted in fantastic +curves, suggesting that the name Snake River might have been applied because of +its serpentine windings. Charming little islands dotted its course, like green +beads strung irregularly upon a silver cord. To add to its attractions, there +was a dwelling near the knoll, with a barn where their horses could be cared +for, and the white-haired, rheumatic old man who led Nat and Bess away to their +well-earned oats, pointed out two canoes, fastened to a silver birch at the +river’s edge, which could be rented for the moderate sum of ten cents +apiece for the entire day.</p> + +<p>As on all well-conducted picnics, luncheon came early, and then followed the +diversions which invariably contribute to the pleasure of such festive +occasions. The girls strolled in the woods, picked the showy, scentless flowers, +which had replaced the small, fragrant blossoms of springtime, and took little +excursions on the river, two to a canoe. The strength of the current was +something of a surprise. Ruth and Amy floating down the stream, and barely +dipping their paddles into the water, had exclaimed over the ease of propelling +the little bark. But the attempt to return to their starting-point <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282'></a>282</span> had proved that the +smoothly flowing water had a will of its own. The paddles were plied vigorously, +and the girls reached the birch-tree with little beads of moisture showing at +their temples, and an unusual color in their cheeks.</p> + +<p>“Another time I’d paddle up stream and float down,” +exclaimed Amy, stepping ashore, and fanning herself with her hat. “I want +my hard times at the start. But who would have supposed that there was such a +current in this lazy old river?”</p> + +<p>Characteristically Peggy defended the reputation of the stream. +“It’s not lazy a bit. Up here it winds around a good deal, but +that’s only its playtime. Just a mile or two below are the falls, and I +think the power is carried quite a long way to some town for electric lights and +that sort of thing. So Snake River’s really a worker.”</p> + +<p>The drowsy hour of the afternoon had arrived. The breeze which had been so +fresh in the early morning had died down. The pine-trees on the knoll rustled +softly, and the sound was as soothing as a lullaby. “I believe I’ll +feel better for a nap,” said Aunt Abigail, and forthwith settled herself +on a steamer rug, spread out invitingly. The suggestion proved popular, and the +younger members of <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283'></a>283</span> +the party followed her example, except that most of them stretched out +luxuriously on the pine needles, sun-warmed and fragrant.</p> + +<p>Dorothy looked about on the somnolent gathering with dismay. “Aunt +Peggy, I don’t like sleepy picnics. I want to play tag.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s too hot for tag, and, besides, you always squeal so +when you’re caught that it would wake everybody up. Don’t you want a +tiny bit of a nap?” Either because of the force of example, or because the +languor of the summer day was too much even for her energy, Peggy herself was +frankly sleepy.</p> + +<p>“But I can have naps to my house.” Dorothy’s chin quivered +in her disappointment, and Peggy surrendered with a laugh.</p> + +<p>“Naps are a kind of fun you can have almost anywhere, can’t you, +dear? Well, we mustn’t play tag, but we’ll take one of the canoes +and go on a nice little expedition all by ourselves.”</p> + +<p>Dorothy’s face was radiant over the prospect of stealing a march on the +sleepers. She was on her feet in a moment, tiptoeing her way with exaggerated +caution. Amy opening one eye, saw the buoyant little figure trip past, and +wondered vaguely what was up, though in her state of comfortable <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284'></a>284</span> lethargy it seemed +altogether too much trouble to inquire.</p> + +<p>“Now, you must sit as quiet as a mouse,” warned Peggy, lifting +Dorothy into the canoe. “For these boats are the tippy kind. And this time +we’ll go up stream instead of down.”</p> + +<p>The twisting, winding river was unexpectedly alluring. Every bend Peggy +paddled past, the point just above beckoned her onward. Her temporary drowsiness +had disappeared, and she enjoyed her sense of discovery and the exercise which +was vigorous without being exhausting. Knowing that the return would be both +swift and easy, she did not hesitate to yield to her new-born zeal for +exploration, especially as Dorothy’s face was expressive of unalloyed +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“How pretty the river is here,” Peggy exclaimed at last, breaking +a long, happy silence. “Prettier than below, if anything. Dorothy, +aren’t you glad we’re not sleeping away our chance to see all +this?”</p> + +<p>“My mamma puts me to bed when I’m <i>naughty</i>,” replied +Dorothy, thereby explaining her inability to regard sleep as a diversion. +“And I’ve been a good girl to-day.”</p> + +<p>“We’ve both been good girls,” boasted Peggy. “Too +good to be sent to bed. And oh, Dorothy, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_285'></a>285</span> see that darling little island! What do you say to +landing and exploring?”</p> + +<p>Dorothy was ready to agree to anything which promised novelty and excitement. +Accordingly, Peggy paddled into the welcoming arms of a miniature harbor, tied +her craft to a convenient willow, and helped her small niece ashore.</p> + +<p>Islands had always possessed for Peggy a peculiar fascination. The smaller +they were the better, from her standpoint, since with the larger it was always +necessary to remind one’s self that they were not a part of the mainland. +On this particular island it was quite impossible to forget for a moment that +you were entirely surrounded by water.</p> + +<p>Peggy pursued her discoveries with zest. Considering its detached and lonely +state, the little island had conformed surprisingly to the ways of the mainland. +Peggy found flowers of the same varieties that she had picked in the woods back +of the knoll a little earlier. A blackberry vine was heavily hung with fruit, +though some of the berries were dry and withered. Peggy noticed a bird’s +nest in a more exposed location than the little builder would have chosen +elsewhere, she was sure, and she thought of the deductions Jerry would have +drawn from this fact, and smiled while she sighed. <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_286'></a>286</span> Poor Jerry! She must take him in hand, +and settle this absurd misunderstanding.</p> + +<p>“Aunt Peggy,” piped Dorothy, trotting at her heels, +“let’s not ’splore any longer. I don’t like +’sploring.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t want to stop till I’ve seen everything, +Dorothy. Be a good girl and don’t fret.”</p> + +<p>But Dorothy did not feel like being a good girl. One of her rare wilful moods +had taken possession of her. She stood motionless, scowling at Peggy’s +unconscious back, and then her little face overcast and rebellious, she turned +and made her way down to the willow and the waiting canoe. The latter moved +gently as the water rippled past. It seemed to Dorothy to be tugging at its +fastenings with an impatience that matched her own.</p> + +<p>“You don’t like ’sploring either, do you?” she said, +addressing the canoe in a confidential undertone. “And–and +it’s very naughty of Aunt Peggy to want her own way all the time. I guess +she’d be s’prised if we went off and left her.”</p> + +<p>The canoe repeated its wordless invitation. Dorothy drew closer, cast a +defiant glance behind her, and then set one small foot firmly on the bottom of +the uncertain craft. The responsive lurch was so unexpected that she went over +in a heap, luckily <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287'></a>287</span> +landing in the bottom of the canoe, instead of in Snake River. She sat up, +feeling a little frightened, and under the necessity of excusing herself.</p> + +<p>“There, I didn’t disobey Aunt Peggy, ’cept with one foot. I guess +that old canoe pulled me in its own self.”</p> + +<p>Her complacency vanished with a startling discovery. The canoe had been +carelessly tied and the jar of her tumble had loosened it altogether. Yielding +to the current it began to move down the stream, and Dorothy’s alarm found +vent in an ear-splitting shriek.</p> + +<p>“Aunt Peggy! Aunt Peggy!”</p> + +<p>Peggy came crashing through the bushes, startled by the summons, and yet +scarcely prepared for the sight which met her eyes. And then so rapidly did +things happen, that there seemed to be no time to be frightened. For, at the +first glimpse of her rescuer, foolish little Dorothy sprang to her feet. As a +matter of course the canoe overturned, throwing her into the water.</p> + +<p>Peggy’s instinctive leap took no account of the depth of the stream. +She could have drowned with Dorothy. It was quite impossible for her to stand by +and look on while Dorothy drowned. Luckily the water, though deep at this point, +was not over <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288'></a>288</span> her +head. She floundered to her feet choking and blowing, and clutched desperately +at a small, damp object the current was sweeping past her. Instantly two arms +went about her neck in a frantic embrace.</p> + +<p>“Dorothy, don’t hold so tight. I can’t breathe.”</p> + +<p>The appeal was useless. Dorothy was beyond heeding any admonition but that of +the blind instinct of self-preservation. Peggy would not have believed that +there was such strength in the slender little arms. Gasping, and with reeling +senses, she edged step by step nearer the shore, groping with her disengaged +hand for the sloping bit of beach where she could deposit her burden. When at +length her fingers came in contact with the pebbly edge the bright summer world +was a black mist before her unseeing eyes.</p> + +<p>Luckily the contact with mother earth suggested to Dorothy that here was +something more stable than the swaying support to which she had been clinging so +desperately. Her hold relaxed, and a minute later she was scrambling up the +slope into the grass and bushes, caring for nothing except to get as far as +possible from the terrible water. Peggy caught her breath, waited an instant for +brain and vision to clear, and then, with the aid of <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_289'></a>289</span> the obliging willow, climbed dripping +from the stream. For a minute or two she gave herself up to the luxury of being +frightened. Shuddering and sick, she gazed over her shoulder at the rippling +water, while one monotonous thought repeated itself over and over in her brain +like a chant. “She might have been drowned. I might have been drowned. We +might both have been drowned.” Peggy was conscious of an overwhelming, +panic-stricken longing for her mother.</p> + +<p>Dorothy was sitting back in the bushes, crying with a lustiness which +suggested that no serious consequences were to be apprehended from her plunge +bath, beyond the possibility of taking cold. “I don’t like ’sploring +islands,” she sobbed. “Let’s go back, Aunt Peggy.”</p> + +<p>Peggy turned sharply. Down the stream floated the overturned canoe, already +at a distance which made its recapture hopeless. A little in advance was a white +straw hat, a pert bow acting as a sail. Not till that moment had it occurred to +Peggy that her troubles were not yet over. Her gratitude for her escape from +death was tempered by irritated dismay.</p> + +<p>“Why, Dorothy, we can’t go back! We’ve got to wait till +they come for us. How provoking!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290'></a>290</span>Nothing was to +be gained by fretting, however, and luckily other matters were soon absorbing +Peggy’s attention. She wrung the water from Dorothy’s drenched hair +and clothing, and set her in the sun to dry, a forlorn little figure of a +mermaid. And then she performed a like service for herself, stopping at +intervals to lift her voice in a ringing “Hal-loo!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear! We’re going to be so late getting home,” scolded +Peggy. “It’ll be dark, and none of us know the roads very +well.” She looked longingly at the point around which at any moment a +canoe might appear. “It’s going to take some time to land us,” +she reflected, “as long as these canoes can’t carry any more than +two. Oh, dear, Dorothy! How much trouble you’ve made.” And the +pensive mermaid wept again, with the submissive penitence which disarms +censure.</p> + +<p>Over in the west above the treetops, the sky grew pink, deepened to crimson, +paled to ashes-of-roses. The sparkling lights on the water were snuffed out one +by one. The air was full of sounds, shrill-voiced insects cheeping, the pipe of +frogs, the twittering of birds seeking their nests.</p> + +<p>The downward droop of the corners of Dorothy’s mouth became more +pronounced.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291'></a>291</span>“I +don’t like that noise,” she protested. “It sounds as if things +were all crying.”</p> + +<p>Peggy hugged the little penitent close. She did not like the sound herself. +“You’re pretty near dry, aren’t you?” she said, trying +to speak lightly.</p> + +<p>Dorothy’s answer was a grieved whimper, “Aunt Peggy, when are +they coming for us?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, dear.” The resolute cheerfulness of +Peggy’s tone gave no hint of her inward perturbation. What did it mean, +she asked herself. What were the girls thinking of? It was growing dark. She +tightened her clasp about Dorothy and the disconsolate little maid snuggled her +damp head against Peggy’s shoulder, and forgot her troubles in sleep.</p> + +<p>Little flickering lights began to play about the island, as the fire-flies +lit their fairy lamps. Overhead the stars came out. The warm wind of the summer +night sighed through the treetops, and the sad chorus of humble earthly pipers +answered from below. It seemed to Peggy as if the dear familiar world with its +cheery homes and friendly faces, had been blotted out, and Dorothy and herself +were alone on an unfamiliar earth. Yet with all the strange, terrifying +loneliness, the stars had never seemed so bright nor the heavenly Father so +near.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292'></a>292</span><a id='link_19'></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE RESCUE</span></h2> + +<p>The picnickers had slept late. Elaine was the first to wake, and she lay for +a moment staring at the tranquil sky above her, unable to understand why she was +not viewing the ceiling of her bedroom on Friendly Terrace. Then recollection +came, and she raised herself on her elbow just as Amy opened her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Did Peggy call?” inquired Amy stretching lazily. “Is it +time to wake up?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t hear Peggy,” Elaine admitted. “But I should +say that it was high time for us to be stirring, unless we’re going to +spend the night here.”</p> + +<p>At the sound of voices, one sleeper after another gave signs of returning +animation. Priscilla sat up languidly, glanced at the little watch she wore on a +leather strap about her wrist, and uttered a surprised exclamation.</p> + +<p>“Why, it’s five o’clock! I thought Peggy said we were to +start back at five.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_293'></a>293</span>“We’ve slept away all the +afternoon,” Amy commented in some vexation, as she jumped to her feet with +an energy in striking contrast to her late lassitude. “I don’t see +why Peggy didn’t wake us.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps she didn’t know how late it was getting.” +Priscilla, too, was on her feet. “Peggy!” she called. “Oh, +Peggy!” and then stood listening vainly for the reply.</p> + +<p>“She took Dorothy and went somewhere,” Amy explained. “That +was the last thing I saw. Oh, Peggy! Peggy Raymond!”</p> + +<p>Repeated calls were fruitless. “Perhaps she went to the barn to see +about the horses,” was Aunt Abigail’s contribution to the jumble of +suggestions, and Priscilla and Ruth promptly volunteered to test its accuracy. +They found that the rheumatic old man had Nat and Bess already harnessed.</p> + +<p>“Somebody said you wanted ’em for five o’clock,” he +explained. “’Twasn’t neither of you two. A pretty girl in +white.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, Peggy! But we can’t find her. We thought perhaps +she’d been down here.”</p> + +<p>As the rheumatic old man was unable to give them news of Peggy, the girls +returned to their companions at a pace which unconsciously grew <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294'></a>294</span> more and more rapid, as +they discussed the situation. “Good joke on Peggy,” Ruth said with a +little laugh. “Because she’s always the one that’s on hand, no +matter who’s late.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s certainly a joke on Peggy.” And Priscilla also +laughed with a determined heartiness. But with all her air of amusement, she was +conscious of a vague uneasiness.</p> + +<p>Just as they reached the knoll they were met by Amy and Elaine. +“She’s out in one of the canoes,” Amy said quickly, before the +others could explain that their search had been without success.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” Priscilla’s sigh was expressive of relief. +“Well, she’d better come in now. The old man has harnessed, and +it’s quite a little after five.”</p> + +<p>“We couldn’t see her anywhere.” Elaine took up the story as +Amy was silent. “But one of the canoes is gone, so, of course, she’s +taken Dorothy for a little ride.”</p> + +<p>The girls were chattering like blackbirds as they went down the slope to the +river. Elaine recalled Peggy’s fondness for the water, and Amy remarked +that it was almost a relief to have Peggy behindhand for once, she had such a +mania for looking out for everybody else. The other girls contributed +observations equally important, and each tried to <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_295'></a>295</span> hide from the others, if not from +herself, the fact that her persistent and voluble cheerfulness was designed to +silence the uneasy whisperings of an anxiety that was waxing stronger, moment by +moment.</p> + +<p>Aunt Abigail was standing at the water’s edge, straining her old eyes +this way and that. For the first time that summer she looked her full age.</p> + +<p>“Call again, girls!” she commanded peremptorily. “It +isn’t at all like Peggy to be so late, and worry us this way. I +don’t like it.”</p> + +<p>It was really a relief to have some one voice an anxiety so that they could +all unite in demonstrating its utter unreasonableness. But to relieve Aunt +Abigail’s mind, they shouted in chorus, “Peggy! Peg-gy +Raymond!” and heard as they listened, the echo repeating their summons +more and more faintly with each reiteration. That was all. No answering cheery +hail. No musical dip of the paddle in the stream.</p> + +<p>It was during one of these tense moments of listening that Elaine started +violently, and in spite of the sunburn, which in her case had not had time to +deepen into tan, she turned pale. Instantly she was bombarded by excited +questions.</p> + +<p>“What was it? What did you see, Elaine?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296'></a>296</span>“Why, I +guess it’s nothing. You look, girls, that dark thing on the water way +over. It isn’t–it can’t be–”</p> + +<p>But it <i>was</i> an overturned canoe. The rheumatic old man who had come up +with the team towed it ashore, in the wake of its sister bark. As if in a +dreadful dream, the girls heard the quavering tones of the old voice, his gray +head shaking the while.</p> + +<p>“Two of ’em, you say. The pretty girl in white and the little +one. And me a-waiting on, for I don’t know what. It don’t seem fair, +somehow.”</p> + +<p>It was ten o’clock that evening when Jerry Morton heard the news. Ill +tidings travel fast, even without the help of modern invention. One of the +Snooks boys, not Andy but Elisha, an older brother, brought the word, and his +manner was suggestive of a certain complacency as if he felt that his own +importance was increased by his momentous tidings. He found Jerry sitting on the +steps, though it was long past bedtime, his chin on his hand, and his unblinking +gaze fixed upon the stars, as if he were trying to stare them out of +countenance.</p> + +<p>“I don’t b’lieve you’ve heard about the +drownding.”</p> + +<p>“What d’ye mean?” Jerry’s head lifted, yet <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297'></a>297</span> his response was less +dramatic than Elisha had hoped for.</p> + +<p>“You know that Raymond girl, up to the Cottage. Well, +she–”</p> + +<p>With a cry, Jerry pounced upon his informer. The terrified Elisha struggled +to free himself, gasping disconnected protests. “’Twasn’t me–I +didn’t do it–Snake River–”</p> + +<p>“If you’re lying to me,” warned Jerry, coming to his senses +and loosening his hold, “you’ll be sorry. Mighty sorry.”</p> + +<p>Elisha crossed his heart in proof of his veracity. “And if you +don’t b’lieve me, go over to Cole’s and ask them.”</p> + +<p>The advice seemed good. Jerry took to his heels. It was a mistake, of course, +either one of ’Lish Snooks’ lies, or else a mistake. Yet a horrible doubt +rose in the midst of his assertions of confidence, like the head of a snake +lifted amid a bed of flowers.</p> + +<p>At the Cole farmhouse every one was astir. Mrs. Cole who had just returned +from Dolittle Cottage, and was going back to spend the night, after attending to +some necessary household tasks, was crying softly as she worked and talked.</p> + +<p>“Those poor children! Seems as if they couldn’t take in what had +happened. They’re dazed like. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_298'></a>298</span> The one that looks delicate, Ruth, had a bad +fainting spell, and the plump little one, she breaks down and cries every now +and then, but the other two, they sit around white and still, not saying a word +or shedding a tear. ’Tain’t natural. The Lord meant tears to ease our +hearts, when the load’s too heavy to bear. It worries me when I see folks +taking their trouble dry-eyed.”</p> + +<p>“How are they going to let their folks know, ma?” asked Rosetta +Muriel, her voice strangely subdued. The sudden tragedy had stirred her shallow +nature to its depths. Though a small mirror hung against the wall at a +convenient distance, she did not glance in its direction. For an hour she had +not smoothed her hair, nor pulled her ribbon bow into jaunty erectness, nor +indicated by any other of the familiar forms of self-betrayal the all-absorbing +importance of her personal appearance. Her hands lay idle in her lap, and her +face was pale, under her dishevelled hair.</p> + +<p>“Joe’ll drive over to the station with a telegram the first thing +in the morning,” Mrs. Cole replied. “We could telephone by going to +Corney Lee’s, but I don’t know why the poor souls shouldn’t +have one more night of quiet sleep, for they can’t take anything earlier +than the morning train anyway. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_299'></a>299</span> And, besides, a telegram kind of brings its own +warning, but to go to the ’phone when the bell rings, and hear news like +this, must be ’most more than flesh and blood can bear.”</p> + +<p>Her gaze wandered to the boy standing by the door. “You’ll go +over with the rest of the men in the morning, won’t you, Jerry?” she +asked. “I guess there won’t be many sleeping late +to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>Jerry had refused a chair, but had stayed on, listening to such meagre +information as was to be had, the discovery of the overturned canoe, and later +of Peggy’s hat, stained and water-soaked. As to the cause of the +catastrophe no one could be sure, though Mrs. Cole hazarded a guess. “That +little Dorothy was as full of caper as a colt, and anything as ticklish as a +canoe ain’t safe for a child of that sort.”</p> + +<p>Looking at Jerry, the good woman was almost startled by the drawn misery of +the boy’s white face. She had not credited him with such keen +sensibilities.</p> + +<p>“You’d better go home and get to bed, Jerry,” she said +kindly. “The men are going to start as soon as it’s light enough, +and you’d ought to get a good sleep first.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300'></a>300</span>Jerry slipped +through the door without replying. Indeed he had hardly spoken since he had +uttered his threat against ’Lish Snooks. As he stepped out into the night, he +began to run, though his face was not set toward home, and his confused thoughts +recognized no especial destination. But fast as he ran, the realization of what +had happened kept pace with him, and when at last he tripped over a tangle of +vines, and went sprawling, he made no effort to rise, but lay motionless, his +hot tears falling on the grass.</p> + +<p>He could never tell her. That was the bitterest drop in his cup of grief. The +words he might have said yesterday could not be spoken now. It had been in his +power to make her glad, to bring a sparkle into her eyes. He had had his chance +and refused it. Alas! the sorrowful wisdom that one day had brought, a wisdom +that had come too late for him to profit by it.</p> + +<p>He did not know how long he lay there, his tears mingling with the falling +dew. He struggled to his feet at last, limping a little, for the fall had been +severe, and went on his way, still without conscious purpose. And when long +after a silvery expanse shone ahead of him, he did not realize for the moment +that his aimless wanderings had <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_301'></a>301</span> brought him to Snake River. He stumbled on till he +reached the edge of the stream and saw in the black shadow of the trees a dugout +half filled with water. For the first time in his night of wandering, a vague +purpose took shape in his throbbing brain.</p> + +<p>This was Snake River. And here was his boat awaiting him. He would take it +and drift down the stream, meeting the men in the morning. There was no moon, +but the night was clear and starlit, and except for the shadows cast by the +trees on the bank, the river looked a luminous highway. Though he did not know +the hour, he felt sure that it could not be long before the east began to grow +light with the first promise of the sunrise. It would not be worth while to go +home.</p> + +<p>He fell to bailing the awkward craft, and found a certain relief in the +necessity for methodical work. The water trickled in again, to be sure, but less +rapidly than he could empty it out. He plugged the largest crevice with his +handkerchief, untied the rotting rope, and pushed out from under the shadows +into the centre of the stream. Then he let the current have its way, using an +oar now and then to keep the dugout from floating ashore, or going aground on +one of the numerous islands which started out of the water as if to bar his +progress. <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302'></a>302</span> Except +as he roused himself for this purpose, he sat huddled on his seat without +moving, his head resting on his folded arms.</p> + +<p>The birds discovered that the morning was coming before Jerry found it out. +Jubilant notes of welcome to the new day sounded above his head. He straightened +himself, and made an effort to throw off the lethargy which had succeeded his +paroxysms of grief. The horizon in the east was banded with yellow, and overhead +the sky blushed rosily. He looked about him and tried to locate himself.</p> + +<p>“Guess I must be just back of Denbeigh’s farm. Yes, that’s +their windmill. I’d better row awhile. I’m a good way from Pine +Knoll yet.” Again he bailed out the boat and took up the oars. The dugout +moved ahead like a plodding farm-horse that feels the spur and responds +reluctantly.</p> + +<p>Morning was coming as radiantly as if there were no sorrow in the world. With +dull incredulity Jerry watched the sky kindle and the earth flash awake. It hurt +him, all this glow and sparkle, this sweetness in the air, and the sound of the +birds singing. He thought how Peggy would have loved it all and his throat +ached, and he lifted his hand to his eyes to clear his vision. Then he pulled +hard <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303'></a>303</span> on his left +oar, for the current was swinging him around toward a little island that rose +suddenly out of the mist like an apparition.</p> + +<p>All at once a figure stood out against the tangled green, a slender figure in +white. Jerry dropped both oars, and put his hands before his eyes. When he +looked again the vision had not vanished. Its hand moved in an appealing +gesture.</p> + +<p>Jerry found himself rowing frantically, a hope in his heart so like madness +that he dared not let himself think what it was that he hoped for. The dugout +crashed against the willow where Peggy had tied her canoe the afternoon before. +And in the unreal light of the dawn, a pale, tremulous Peggy stretched out her +arms with a cry. “Oh, it’s Jerry! Oh, Jerry, how came it to be +you?” It had been a night of weeping for many, but Peggy’s tears had +waited till now.</p> + +<p>“Oh, such a time, Jerry! The canoe tipped over, and spilled Dorothy +into the river, and I don’t know how I ever got her out. And then we +couldn’t get away, and I screamed till I was hoarse, but nobody came. Oh, +Jerry! I’m so glad!”</p> + +<p>Jerry’s answer seemed a trifle irrelevant. But he said the things he +was certain could not be postponed another instant.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304'></a>304</span>“Look +here! I’m going back to school. I’ve been a coward, just like you +said, but now I’m going to start out same as David did, and stick to it +like that other fellow–I forget his name–and say! +I’m–I’m sorry.” He was out of breath when he finished, +as if he had been straining every muscle to raise the weight, crushing, +overwhelming, that had been lifted from his heart.</p> + +<p>They picked up Dorothy without awaking her, and Jerry pulled hard for the +bank. “We’ll go straight up through the woods. There’s a house +not quarter of a mile back. Prob’ly they’ll all be up and around. You see, +the men were going to start early this morning, so’s to–so’s +to–” Jerry floundered, his pale face suddenly flushing scarlet, and +Peggy understood.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Jerry!” Her voice dropped to a shocked whisper. “Oh, +Jerry, they thought we were drowned.” Then she uttered a little pained +cry. “And at home, too? Do they know?”</p> + +<p>“Joe’s going to telegraph first thing this morning.”</p> + +<p>“He mustn’t,” Peggy cried fiercely. “I can’t +bear it. I won’t bear it to have mother hurt so.” Unconsciously her +arm tightened about Dorothy, till the child roused with a little cry.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305'></a>305</span>Jerry looked at +the sun. “I guess we’ll be in time to stop him,” he reassured +her. “Don’t you fret.” And then, as the boat bumped against +the bank, “Here, I’ll take the baby.”</p> + +<p>Jerry’s conjecture proved correct. There was a light in the kitchen of +the farmhouse, where the farmer’s wife was preparing breakfast for the men +hurrying through their morning tasks to be ready for the sombre duties awaiting +them. At the sight of Jerry, with Dorothy in his arms, Peggy dragging wearily +behind, the men guessed the truth, and the trio was welcomed with such shouts +that Dorothy woke up in earnest. As for Peggy, she could hardly keep back the +tears at the rejoicing of these total strangers over the safety of Dorothy and +herself.</p> + +<p>Jerry had thought this problem out in the toilsome climb from the river. +“Say, I want the fastest horse you’ve got. They’re going to +telegraph this morning to her folks and I’ve got to stop +’em.”</p> + +<p>The farmer nodded comprehendingly. “I’ve got a three-year-old +that’s a pretty speedy proposition. Ain’t really broken, though. +Think you can manage him, son?”</p> + +<p>“’Course I can.” In his new-born zeal for atonement, Jerry felt +himself equal to the management of an airship. The three-year-old was +accordingly <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306'></a>306</span> +interrupted in her breakfast, expressing her dissatisfaction by laying her ears +close to her head. And as she was hurriedly saddled, Jerry added, +“You’ll get ’em home as soon as you can, won’t you? I +guess by their looks they’re pretty near beat out.”</p> + +<p>“We sure will.” The farmer cleared his throat, for his deep voice +had suddenly grown husky. “Driving the two of ’em home alive and +well is a good deal pleasanter job than I’d bargained for this morning. +Now look out for this here vixen,” he continued, dropping suddenly from +the plane of sentiment to the prosaic levels, “for she’ll throw you +if she can.”</p> + +<p>And while Peggy was making an effort to eat the breakfast the farmer’s +wife insisted on her sharing, a clatter of hoofs under the window told of +Jerry’s departure.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307'></a>307</span><a id='link_20'></a>CHAPTER XX<br /><span class='h2fs'>HOME SWEET HOME</span></h2> + +<p>“Joy cometh in the morning.” At Dolittle Cottage white-faced, +sad-hearted girls had crept up-stairs to bed, and some of them had slept and +waked moaning, and others had lain wide-eyed and still through the long hours, +thankful for the relief of tears which now and then ran down their hot cheeks +and wet their pillows. But when the dawn came, nature had its way, and the last +watcher fell into the heavy sleep of exhaustion.</p> + +<p>Apparently they all waked at once. Down-stairs was a clamor of uplifted +voices, strange, choking cries, sounds that almost made the heart stop beating. +And then above the tumult, a shrill fretful pipe that to the strained ears of +the listeners was the sweetest of all sweet music.</p> + +<p>“Make Hobo stop, Aunt Peggy. He’s a-tickling me with his +tongue.”</p> + +<p>Pandemonium reigned in Dolittle Cottage. There was a wild rush of white-robed +figures for the hall, just as a girl in a dress that had once been white, <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308'></a>308</span> and with dark circles +under her eyes, came flying up the stairs. Peggy forgot her aching limbs and +weariness in the transport of that moment. And then there was a little time of +silence, broken only by the sound of happy sobbing, and everybody was kissing +everybody else, without assigning any especial reason, and laughing through glad +tears.</p> + +<p>The appearance of Mrs. Cole, with Dorothy in her arms, was the signal for +another outbreak, and perhaps Dorothy’s manifest ill-humor was fortunate +on the whole, for something of the sort was needed to bring the excited +household down to the wholesome plane of every-day living. Camping out did not +agree with Dorothy. She had caught a slight cold from her wetting, and her +night’s rest had been far from satisfactory. And now to be seized and +passed from hand to hand like a box of candy, while people kissed and cried over +her, was too much for her long-tried temper. She screamed and struggled and +finally put a stop to further affectionate demonstrations by slapping Amy with +one hand, while with the other she knocked off Aunt Abigail’s +spectacles.</p> + +<p>“She’s tired to death, poor little angel,” cried Mrs. Cole, +generously ignoring the fact that Dorothy’s conduct was the reverse of +angelic. “She <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_309'></a>309</span> wants to get to bed and to sleep, and so do the +rest of you, before Lucy and me have the lot sick on our hands.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I couldn’t sleep,” protested Peggy, “and I want +to wait till Jerry comes, and find out if he stopped Joe from sending that +telegram.”</p> + +<p>“And we’re dying to hear everything that’s happened,” +Amy cried, “and, besides, I’m afraid to go to sleep for fear +I’ll dream that this is only a dream.”</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Cole was firm, and Lucy Haines, who had come to the cottage before +sunrise, added her entreaties to the older woman’s insistence. Then +everybody discovered that Peggy was very pale, and Dorothy did some more +slapping, and Mrs. Cole’s motion was carried. Although every girl of them, +and Aunt Abigail as well, had protested her utter inability to sleep, it was not +fifteen minutes before absolute quiet reigned in the second story of the +cottage. Wheels ground up the driveway again and again, and penetrating, if +kindly, voices made inquiries under the open windows, but none of the sleepers +waked till noon.</p> + +<p>Jerry Morton, coming to report the success of his mission, was more than a +little disappointed not to secure an immediate interview with Peggy. But <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310'></a>310</span> Lucy, who was peeling +potatoes in anticipation of the time when hunger should act as an alarm clock, +in the hushed second story, bade him sit down and wait. “I know +she’ll want to see you. She was so worried for fear the news would get to +her mother.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it came mighty near it, I can tell you. Joe was just ahead of +me. When I got in he was saying to the operator, ‘Rush this, will you?’ +and I grabbed his coat and said nix.” Jerry’s tired face lighted up +with satisfaction, and Lucy regarded him rather enviously. It seemed to her that +Jerry was getting more than his share. He had found the castaways, and had +spared Friendly Terrace the shock of the mistaken news, while Lucy with equally +good will, was forced to content herself with peeling potatoes and like humble +services.</p> + +<p>“How did you ever come to think of looking for them?” she asked, +wishing that the happy idea had occurred to her, instead of to Jerry.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t. ’Twas just a stroke of luck.” Jerry told the +story of his night’s wandering, a recital as interesting to himself as to +Lucy, for as yet he had hardly had time to formulate the record of what had +happened. Before they had exhausted the fascinating theme there were sounds +overhead <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311'></a>311</span> which +told that the late sleepers were at last astir.</p> + +<p>They kept open house at Dolittle Cottage that afternoon. The country +community, aroused by the news of the supposed tragedy, and then by the word +that all was well, gave itself up to rejoicing. Vehicles of every description +creaked up the driveway, bringing whole families to offer their congratulations. +Though farm work was pressing, Mr. Silas Robbins drove over with his wife and +daughter, and patted Peggy’s shoulder, and pinched Dorothy’s cheek. +Luckily a morning in bed had done much to restore Dorothy to her normal mood, +and though she bestowed a withering glance upon the gentleman who had taken this +liberty, she did not retaliate in the fashion Peggy feared.</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t think of letting <i>you</i> get drowned, you +know,” remarked Mr. Robbins with ponderous humor. “A girl who can +speechify the way you can, might get to be president some day, if the +women’s rights folks should win out. I don’t say,” concluded +Mr. Robbins, with the air of making a great concession, “that I +mightn’t vote for you myself.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Smart, too, dropped in to secure additional information for the write-up, +which he informed <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312'></a>312</span> +Peggy would appear in the next issue of the <i>Weekly Arena</i>. “Though +but a country editor,” said Mr. Smart feelingly, “I believe that the +Press ought to be reliable, and I’m doing my part to make it so. No yellow +journalism in the <i>Arena</i>.” And he showed a little natural +disappointment on discovering that even this assurance did not reconcile Peggy +to the prospect of figuring as a newspaper heroine.</p> + +<p>One of the surprises of the day was Mrs. Snooks’ appearance. Never +since her education had been taken in hand by the occupants of Dolittle Cottage, +had she darkened its doors. But now she came smiling, and with an evident +determination to regard bygones as bygones. For when she had expatiated at some +length on the effect of Elisha’s harrowing news upon her nerves, and had +repeated in great detail what she had said to Mr. Snooks, and what Mr. Snooks +had said to her, she gave a crowning proof of magnanimity.</p> + +<p>“Now, I’ve got to be getting back home. Mr. Snooks is a wonderful +good-natured man, but he likes his victuals on time, same as most men-folks. I +wonder if you could lend me a loaf of bread? I was just that worked up this +morning that I didn’t get ’round to set sponge.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313'></a>313</span>The bread-box +was well filled, thanks to Mrs. Cole, and Peggy insisted on accompanying Mrs. +Snooks to the kitchen and picking out the largest loaf. She also suggested that +Mrs. Snooks should take home a sample of the new breakfast food they all liked +so much. As they parted on the doorstep Peggy was sure that the last shadow of +their misunderstanding had lifted, for Mrs. Snooks turned to say, “I got a +new cooky cutter from the tin peddler the other day–real pretty. And any +time you’d like to use it, you’re perfectly welcome.”</p> + +<p>Even then the surprises of the eventful day were not over. For late in the +afternoon, when the kindly strangers occupying the porch chairs were just +announcing that they guessed they’d have to move on, two figures came up +the walk at a swinging pace. Ruth who was a little in the background was the +first to notice them, and she was on her feet in a moment, with a glad cry. +There was a general movement in the direction of the new arrivals, but Ruth was +the first to reach them.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Graham! Oh, Graham! You don’t know–”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’ve heard all about it,” Graham said in a voice not +quite natural. The two boys on their way back to the city had stopped for dinner +at the <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314'></a>314</span> farmhouse +where Peggy had taken breakfast, and had been favored with all the details of +what Jack called the “near tragedy,” though his effort at +facetiousness was far from expressing his real feelings.</p> + +<p>It was distinctly disappointing to the girls to find that their visitors +planned to continue their trip next morning. “My vacation’s up +Saturday,” explained Jack Rynson. “And Graham thinks he’s +loafed as long as he should.”</p> + +<p>“And Elaine is going to-morrow,” sighed Peggy. “I almost +wish–” She checked herself abruptly.</p> + +<p>“Dear old Friendly Terrace,” Amy murmured. “Seems as if +we’d been away a year.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ll be starting in ten days or so,” said +Priscilla, with an air of trying to make the best of things.</p> + +<p>Peggy flashed a surprised glance about the circle. “Girls, why, girls! +I believe we’d all like to go home to-morrow! Then let’s.”</p> + +<p>There was no doubt as to the popularity of the suggestion. The strain of +those few hours when shadows darker than those of night hung over Dolittle +Cottage, had implanted in the hearts of all the longing for home. In the clamor +of eager voices there was no dissent, only questioning <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_315'></a>315</span> whether so hasty a departure were +possible. And when this was decided in the affirmative, hilarity reigned.</p> + +<p>“You must all stay to supper,” Peggy declared, overflowing in +joyous hospitality. “There won’t be enough of anything to go around, +but there’s any amount of things that must be eaten.” Graham and +Jack accepted the invitation as a matter of course, and Lucy and Jerry yielded, +after considerable insistence on Peggy’s part. And on the faces which +surrounded the dinner-table, lengthened for the occasion by an extra leaf, there +was little to call to mind the black dream of the night.</p> + +<p>It was an unusual supper in many ways. There were only half a dozen ears of +corn, and the lima beans served out a teaspoonful to a plate. It was understood +that whoever preferred sardines to corned beef might have his choice, but that +it was a breach of etiquette to take both. However, since several varieties of +jellies and preserves graced the table, and there was an abundance of Mrs. +Cole’s delicious bread, both white and brown, there was no danger that any +one would rise from the meal with his hunger unsatisfied.</p> + +<p>Peggy was busy planning while she ate. “Oh, dear, what in the world am +I going to do with <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316'></a>316</span> +Hobo? I won’t leave him without a home, that’s sure. And I +don’t know what Taffy’ll say to me if I bring back another +dog.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll take him off your hands,” said Jack Rynson.</p> + +<p>Peggy leaned toward him with shining eyes. “Really? And would you like +him? For I don’t want you to take him just to oblige me.”</p> + +<p>Jack made haste to defend himself against such a charge. His home, it seemed, +was on the outskirts of the city, and his mother sometimes complained that it +was lonely, and would be glad, Jack was sure, of a good watch-dog. “And +I’ll get Graham to give him a certificate on that score,” concluded +Jack, with a meaning smile in the direction of his friend, who was always easily +teased by references to the time when Hobo had rushed to the defence of +Graham’s sister against Graham himself.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s such a load off my mind,” Peggy declared. +“He can go with you to-morrow, can’t he? And now there’s one +thing more, and that’s his name.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” Jack looked a little puzzled.</p> + +<p>“I named him myself, and I’ve been ashamed of it ever since. For +he never was a tramp dog, <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_317'></a>317</span> really. He wanted a home all the time, and people +of his own to love and protect and be faithful to. And, if you don’t mind, +before he goes I’d like to change his name to Hero.”</p> + +<p>The emphasis on the last word roused Hobo, who was sleeping in the next room. +Perhaps his ear was not sufficiently trained to the niceties of the English +language to distinguish between this name and the other by which he had been +addressed all summer. Be that as it may, in an instant he was at Peggy’s +elbow, looking up into her face, and wagging his tail.</p> + +<p>“I believe he knows,” cried Peggy, while the table shouted. The +new name was unanimously endorsed, and with his re-christening, Peggy’s +canine protégé discarded the last survival of his life as a wanderer.</p> + +<p>“And now about the chickens,” continued Peggy, whose face had +lost its look of weariness in overflowing satisfaction. “I’m going +to give them to you, Lucy. I’m sorry there’s only three of them, +but–”</p> + +<p>“Two,” Amy interrupted in a plaintive undertone from the other +side of the table.</p> + +<p>Peggy stared. “What! Has anything happened to Freckles?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318'></a>318</span>“No, +he’s all right. And so’s the yellow hen, of course. But, Peggy, the +other chicken has disappeared. Lucy noticed this morning that it was gone, and +when all those people were here, she and I hunted everywhere. And the old hen +keeps on scratching and clucking just the same.”</p> + +<p>Peggy’s countenance reflected the disgust of Amy’s voice. +“It isn’t much of a gift, Lucy. That yellow hen is really the worst +apology for a mother I ever imagined. Freckles is a nice chicken, but he’s +got some very bad faults. He <i>will</i> come into the house whenever the screen +door is left open, and he seems to have a perfect mania for picking shoe-buttons +and shoe-strings. I suppose it’s because of the way he’s been +brought up, but he’s so fond of human society that he makes a perfect +nuisance of himself.”</p> + +<p>“Chicken pie would cure all those faults,” suggested Graham, and +they all laughed again at Peggy’s expression of horror. +“Didn’t you tell me they’d bring forty cents a pound,” +the young man persisted, teasingly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but that was before I got acquainted with them. I couldn’t +turn even the yellow hen into chicken pie, much as I dislike her. The wonder to +me,” Peggy ended thoughtfully, “is that anybody <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_319'></a>319</span> ever makes money out of raising +chickens.”</p> + +<p>Between the supper and the early bedtime there was much to be done. Trunks +were packed, except for the bedding and similar articles, which could not be +dispensed with before the morning. The remnants of the groceries were bestowed +on Mrs. Snooks, and some matters which the girls did not have time to attend to +were left in charge of the capable Mrs. Cole. Against everybody’s protest, +Peggy insisted on running over to the Cole farmhouse to say good-by. Graham +acted as her escort, and the two were admitted by Rosetta Muriel, at the sight +of whom Peggy gave an involuntary start.</p> + +<p>“Do you like it?” asked Rosetta Muriel, immediately interested. +The fair hair which she usually arranged so elaborately, was parted and drawn +back rather primly over her ears, giving her face a suggestion of refinement +which was becoming, if a little misleading.</p> + +<p>Peggy was glad she could answer in the affirmative. “Indeed, I do. The +simple styles are so pretty, I think.”</p> + +<p>“There was a picture of Adelaide Lacey in the paper, with her hair done +this way. She’s going <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_320'></a>320</span> to marry a duke, you know.” It was +characteristic of Rosetta Muriel thus to excuse her lapse into simplicity, but +though the ingenuous explanation was the truth, it was not the whole truth. Even +Rosetta Muriel was not quite the same girl for having come in contact with Peggy +Raymond, and her poor little undeveloped, unlovely self was reaching out +gropingly to things a shade higher than those which hitherto had satisfied +her.</p> + +<p>The news of the hasty departure was magically diffused. Amy said afterward +that she began to understand what they meant when they talked about wireless +telegraphy. For as the stage rattled and bumped along the dusty highway the next +morning, figures appeared at the windows, handkerchiefs fluttered, and hands +were waved in greeting and farewell. In many a harvest field, too, work halted +briefly, while battered hats swung above the heads of the wearers, as a +substitute for a good-by. And at the station, to the girls’ astonishment, +quite a company had collected in honor of their departure.</p> + +<p>Graham and Jack had deferred their start till they had put the girls on the +train, and they regarded the gathering in amazement. “Sure they’re +not waiting for a circus train?” Graham demanded. “Are you +responsible for all this? Rather looks <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_321'></a>321</span> to me, Jack, as if we weren’t quite as +indispensable as we fancied.”</p> + +<p>The stage was never early, and the girls hardly had time to make the rounds +before the whistle of the train was heard. “Come back next summer,” +cried Mrs. Cole, catching Peggy in her arms, and giving her a motherly squeeze. +“I declare it’ll make me so homesick to drive by the cottage, with +you girls gone, that I shan’t know how to stand it.”</p> + +<p>Peggy was saying good-by all over again, but she saved her two special +favorites for the last. “Now, Lucy,” she cried, her hands upon the +shoulders of the pale girl, whose compressed lips showed the effort she was +making far self-control, “you must write me now and then. I want to know +just how you’re getting along.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’ll write,” Lucy promised. “But you +mustn’t worry about me. I’m not going to get discouraged again, no +matter what happens.” The train was coming to a snorting halt and Peggy +had time for just one more word.</p> + +<p>“Good-by, Jerry. Don’t forget.”</p> + +<p>The girls scrambled aboard, followed by a chorus of good-byes. +“What’s this? Old Home week?” asked an interested old +gentleman, dropping his <span class='pagenum pncolor'><a +id='page_322'></a>322</span> newspaper and crossing the aisle, to get a better +view of the crowd on the platform. And, meanwhile, Amy was tugging at the +window, crying excitedly, “Oh, help me, quick, Peggy, or it’ll be +too late.”</p> + +<p>The window yielded to the girls’ combined persuasion. Amy’s +camera appeared in the opening, and a little click sounded just as the train +began to move. “Oh, I hope it’ll be good,” cried Amy, whose +successes and failures had been so evenly balanced that her attitude toward each +new effort was one of hopeful uncertainty. “It would be so nice to have +something to remember them by.” But Peggy, looking back on the station +platform, was sure that she needed no aid to remembrance, Amy’s camera +might be out of focus, and the plate blurred and indistinct, as so often +happened, but the picture of those upturned, friendly faces was printed upon +Peggy’s heart, a lasting possession.</p> + +<p>“Well, old man!” It was Jack Rynson speaking over Graham’s +shoulder. “Guess we might as well start. Come on, Hobo–beg pardon, +Hero.” And the dog who had whimperingly watched the train which bore Peggy +out of sight, only restrained by Jack’s hand on his collar from rushing in +pursuit, yielded to the inevitable, and followed his new master <span +class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323'></a>323</span> with the curious loyalty +which does not change, no matter how often its object changes.</p> + +<p>The people were breaking up into groups of twos and threes, and moving away, +but Lucy Haines and Jerry stood motionless, their gaze following the vanishing +speck which was the south-bound train. Then slowly Lucy’s head turned. She +had never been friendly with Jerry Morton. She had shared the disapproval of the +community, intensified by her inherent inability to understand the temperament +so unlike her own. Yet all at once she found herself feeling responsible for +him. To be helped means an obligation to help, at least to unselfish +natures.</p> + +<p>She went toward Jerry half reluctantly. But when she was near enough to see +that he was swallowing hard, apparently in the effort to remove some obstruction +in his throat which would not “down,” the discovery seemed to create +a bond between them. Her voice was eager and sympathetic as she said: +“It’s fine that you’re going to start school again, Jerry. And +if I can help you with anything, I’ll be glad to.” She hesitated, +and then, in spite of her natural reserve, she added: “We mustn’t +disappoint her, either of us.”</p> + +<p>Jerry had to swallow yet again before he could <span class='pagenum +pncolor'><a id='page_324'></a>324</span> reply. But his answer rang out with a +manful sincerity which would have gladdened Peggy’s heart had she heard +it.</p> + +<p>“Disappoint her! Not on your life!”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c fs14'><i>SAVE THE WRAPPER!</i></p> + +<p>If you have enjoyed reading about the adventures of the new friends you have +made in this book and would like to read more clean, wholesome stories of their +entertaining experiences, turn to the book jacket–on the inside of it, a +comprehensive list of Burt’s fine series of carefully selected books for +young people has been placed for your convenience.</p> + +<p><i>Orders for these books, placed with your bookstore or sent to the +Publishers, will receive prompt attention.</i></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='bookhead'> +<tr><td style='padding-right:30px;'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/ad5.jpg' /> +</td><td> +<p class='c b fs22'>The<br />Ann Sterling Series</p> +<p class='c fs12'>By HARRIET PYNE GROVE</p> +<p class='c'>Stories of Ranch and College Life<br />For Girls 12 to 16 +Years</p> +<p class='c'>Handsome Cloth Binding with<br />Individual Jackets in Color.</p> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<table summary='booklist'> +<tr><td> +<p class='p322'>ANN STERLING<br /> +The strange gift of Old Never-Run, an Indian whom +she has befriended, brings exciting events into Ann’s +life.</p> + +<p class='p322'>THE COURAGE OF ANN<br /> +Ann makes many new, worthwhile friends during her +first year at Forest Hill College.</p> + +<p class='p322'>ANN AND THE JOLLY SIX<br /> +At the close of their Freshman year Ann and the Jolly +Six enjoy a house party at the Sterling’s mountain +ranch.</p> + +<p class='p322'>ANN CROSSES A SECRET TRAIL<br /> +The Sterling family, with a group of friends, spend a +thrilling vacation under the southern Pines of Florida.</p> + +<p class='p322'>ANN’S SEARCH REWARDED<br /> +In solving the disappearance of her father, Ann finds +exciting adventures, Indians and bandits in the West.</p> + +<p class='p322'>ANN’S AMBITIONS<br /> +The end of her Senior year at Forest Hill brings a +whirl of new events into the career of “Ann of the +Singing Fingers.”</p> + +<p class='p322'>ANN’S STERLING HEART<br /> +Ann returns home, after completing a busy year of +musical study abroad.</p> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='hr60' /> +<p class='c'>A. L. BURT COMPANY, Publishers,<br />114-120 E. 23d St., NEW +YORK</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='336'> +<tr><td> +<div class='tpi'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/ad4.jpg' /> +</div> +</td><td> +<p class='b fs22 ml30'>The<br />Greycliff Girls<br />Series</p> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class='c fs12'>By HARRIET PYNE GROVE</p> + +<p class='c'>Stories of Adventure, Fun, Study and Personalities +of girls attending Greycliff School.</p> + +<p class='c'>For Girls 10 to 15 Years</p> + +<p class='c fs11'>PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH</p> + +<p class='c mt00'>POSTAGE 10c EXTRA</p> + +<p class='c'>Cloth bound, with Individual Jackets in Color.</p> + +<hr class='hr20' /> + +<table summary='booklist'> +<tr><td> +<p>CATHALINA AT GREYCLIFF<br /> THE GIRLS OF GREYCLIFF<br /> GREYCLIFF +WINGS<br /> GREYCLIFF GIRLS IN CAMP<br /> GREYCLIFF HEROINES<br /> +GREYCLIFF GIRLS IN GEORGIA<br /> GREYCLIFF GIRLS’ RANCHING<br /> +GREYCLIFF GIRLS’ GREAT ADVENTURE</p> </td></tr></table> + +<hr class='hr60' /> +<p class='c fs08'>For sale by all booksellers, or sent on receipt of price by +the Publishers</p> + +<p class='c'>A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 E. 23d St., NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='336'> +<tr><td> +<div class='tpi'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/ad3.jpg' /> +</div> +</td><td> +<p class='b fs21 ml30'>MARJORIE DEAN<br />POST-GRADUATE<br />SERIES</p> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class='c fs12'>By PAULINE LESTER</p> + +<p class='c'>Author of the Famous Marjorie Dean<br />High School +and College Series.</p> + +<p class='c'>All Cloth Bound. Copyright Titles.</p> + +<p class='c i'>With Individual Jackets in Colors.</p> + +<p class='c fs11'>PRICE, 50 CENTS EACH</p> + +<p class='c mt00'>POSTAGE 10c EXTRA</p> + +<hr class='hr20' /> + +<table summary='booklist'> +<tr><td> +<p>MARJORIE DEAN, POST GRADUATE<br /> MARJORIE DEAN, MARVELOUS MANAGER<br /> +MARJORIE DEAN AT HAMILTON ARMS<br /> MARJORIE DEAN’S ROMANCE<br /> +MARJORIE DEAN MACY</p> </td></tr></table> + +<hr class='hr60' /> +<p class='c fs08'>For sale by all booksellers, or sent on receipt of price by +the Publishers</p> + +<p class='c'>A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 E. 23d St., NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='336'> +<tr><td> +<div class='tpi'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/ad2.jpg' /> +</div> +</td><td> +<p class='b fs22 ml30'>The<br />Virginia Davis<br />Series</p> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class='c fs12'>By GRACE MAY NORTH</p> + +<p class='c'>Clean, Wholesome Stories of Ranch Life.<br /> +For Girls 12 to 16 Years.<br /> +All Clothbound.</p> + +<p class='c i'>With Individual Jackets in Colors.</p> + +<p class='c fs11'>PRICE, 75 CENTS EACH</p> + +<p class='c mt00'>POSTAGE 10c EXTRA</p> + +<hr class='hr20' /> + +<table summary='booklist'> +<tr><td> +<p>VIRGINIA OF V. M. RANCH<br /> VIRGINIA AT VINE HAVEN<br /> +VIRGINIA’S ADVENTURE CLUB<br /> VIRGINIA’S RANCH NEIGHBORS<br /> +VIRGINIA’S ROMANCE</p> </td></tr></table> + +<hr class='hr60' /> +<p class='c fs08'>For sale by all booksellers, or sent on receipt of price by +the Publishers</p> + +<p class='c'>A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 E. 23d St., NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='336'> +<tr><td> +<div class='tpi'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/ad1.jpg' /> +</div> +</td><td> +<p class='b fs22 ml30'>Princess<br />Polly Series</p> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class='c fs12'>By AMY BROOKS</p> + +<p class='c'>Author of “Dorothy Dainty” series, Etc.<br /> +Stories of Sweet-Tempered, Sunny,<br /> +Lovable Little “Princess Polly.”<br /> +For girls 12 to 16 years.<br /> +Each Volume Illustrated.<br /> +</p> + +<p class='c'>Cloth Bound</p> + +<p class='c i'>With Individual Jackets in Colors.</p> + +<p class='c fs11'>PRICE, 75 CENTS EACH</p> + +<p class='c mt00'>POSTAGE 10c EXTRA</p> + +<hr class='hr20' /> + +<table summary='booklist'> +<tr><td> +<p>PRINCESS POLLY<br /> PRINCESS POLLY’S PLAYMATES<br /> PRINCESS +POLLY AT SCHOOL<br /> PRINCESS POLLY BY THE SEA<br /> PRINCESS POLLY’S +GAY WINTER<br /> PRINCESS POLLY AT PLAY<br /> PRINCESS POLLY AT +CLIFFMORE</p> </td></tr></table> + +<hr class='hr60' /> +<p class='c fs08'>For sale by all booksellers, or sent on receipt of price by +the Publishers</p> + +<p class='c'>A. 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