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diff --git a/25505-h/25505-h.htm b/25505-h/25505-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d15e66f --- /dev/null +++ b/25505-h/25505-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7859 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Merryweathers, by Laura E. Richards. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + .bbox2 {border: solid 1px; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Merryweathers, by Laura E. Richards + +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 www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Merryweathers + +Author: Laura E. Richards + +Illustrator: Julia Ward Richards + +Release Date: May 17, 2008 [EBook #25505] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MERRYWEATHERS *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span><br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> +<h1>THE MERRYWEATHERS</h1> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Cover and Frontis"> +<tr><td align='left'><img src="images/cover01.jpg" width="275" height="400" alt="Cover" title="Cover" /> +</td><td align='center'><br /><img src="images/gs01.jpg" width="290" height="400" alt=""'TU-WHOO!' SAID THE SNOWY OWL."" title=""'TU-WHOO!' SAID THE SNOWY OWL."" /> +<br /><span class="caption">"'TU-WHOO!' SAID THE SNOWY OWL."</span> +</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE</h2> +<h1>MERRYWEATHERS</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>LAURA E. RICHARDS</h2> + +<div class='center'> +AUTHOR OF "CAPTAIN JANUARY," "MELODY," "QUEEN<br /> +HILDEGARDE," "GEOFFREY STRONG," ETC.<br /> +<br /><br /> + +<b>Illustrated by</b><br /> + +JULIA WARD RICHARDS<br /><br /><br /></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 190px;"> +<img src="images/emblem.jpg" width="190" height="250" alt="Emblem" title="Emblem" /> +</div> + +<div class='center'><br /><br /><br /> +BOSTON<br /> +<big>DANA ESTES & COMPANY</big><br /> +<small>PUBLISHERS</small><br /></div> + + + + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<div class='center'> +<i><small>Copyright, 1904</small></i><br /> +<span class="smcap"><small>By Dana Estes & Company</small></span><br /> +</div> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<div class='center'><i><small>All rights reserved</small></i><br /> + +<small>THE MERRYWEATHERS</small><br /> + + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +<b><small>Colonial Press</small></b><br /> +<small>Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.</small><br /> +<small>Boston, Mass., U. S. A.</small><br /></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> + +<div class='center'><small>TO</small><br /> + +H. H. F., Jr.<br /> +<small>WITH AFFECTIONATE GREETING.</small><br /></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + +<h2>FOR REMEMBRANCE</h2> + + +<div class='poem2'> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">The</span> sunlight falls in gold upon the golden fields,</span><br /> +The ruffling wave gives back the sky in blue;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The asters fringe the meadow's skirts in purple pride,</span><br /> +And proud the goldenrod is standing, too.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh! clear and far across the lonely water,</span><br /> +The wild bird calls his mate at close of day;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My heart cries out, my heart cries out in answer,</span><br /> +And oh, I fondly think of them that's far away.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, fair the fields where now their feet are treading!</span><br /> +Oh, green the trees that blossom o'er their head!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, deep and sweet the skies above them spreading,</span><br /> +And on their hearth the fire-glow warm and red!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still may they hear, across the lonely water,</span><br /> +The wild bird call his mate at close of day;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still may their hearts, still may their hearts make answer;</span><br /> +Still may they kindly think of them that's far away!<br /></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Spine and Contents"> +<tr><td align='left'> +<img src="images/spine01.jpg" width="78" height="400" alt="book spine" title="book spine" /> +</td><td align='left'><div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td align='center'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Arrival</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Camp</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Auf das Wasser zu Singen</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">After the Picnic</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Kitty and Willy</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Discussion</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Water Play</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Mail</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mr. Belleville</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Puppy Play</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Merryweather's Vigil</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">"Should Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">About Visiting</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Moonlight Again</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Concerning Various Things</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">On the Down</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'>XVII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Snowy Owl</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td></tr> +</table></div> +</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="List of Illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">Tu-whoo!' said the Snowy Owl</span>" (<i><a href="#Page_281">See page <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads '282'">281</ins></a></i>)</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_4"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">Here is yours,' said Bell; 'next to ours</span>'"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">'Tis not a plate ship!</span>'"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">Come on! come in!</span>'"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">Mr. Claud <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Bellville'">Belleville</ins> was a tall, pallid youth</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Merryweather's Vigil</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"'<span class="smcap">Simply fierce, your reverence!' said I</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">He was stirring the porridge industriously, while she mixed the johnny-cake</span>" </td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE MERRYWEATHERS</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>THE ARRIVAL</h3> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Oh</span>, Peggy, I am afraid!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Margaret!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am. I feel very shy and queer, +going among strangers. You see, I have +never really been away in my life; never +in this way, I mean. I was always with +father; and then—afterward—I went to +Fernley; and though so many people have +come into my life, dear, delightful people, +I have never somehow gone into theirs. +And now, to go into a whole great big +family, only two of whom—I mean which—oh, +dear me! I don't know what I mean,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +but I have only seen two of them, you know, +and it is formidable, you will admit, Peggy."</p> + +<p>"Well, I feel just a scrap queer myself," +said Peggy; "but I never thought you would. +And anyhow, we needn't; we both know the +boys so well, and though you have not actually +seen the Snowy, you really know her +very well. Darling thing! Oh, I cannot +wait till we get there! Do you think we +ever <i>shall</i> get there, Margaret? This is the +longest journey I ever made in my life."</p> + +<p>"How about the journey from Ohio?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is different. I know all the +places along the road, and they slip by before +one can think. Besides, a long journey always +seems shorter, because you know it is +long. Well, you needn't laugh, you know +perfectly well what I mean. Oh, Margaret, +I saw a glimpse of blue behind the trees. +Do you suppose that is the lake? do you +think we are nearly there? Oh! I am so excited! +Is my hat on straight?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>Margaret Montfort, by way of reply, +straightened her cousin's hat, and then proceeded +to administer sundry coaxing pats +to her hair and her ribbons.</p> + +<p>"You are a trifle flyaway, dear!" she said. +"There! now, when you have taken the black +smut off your nose, you will be as trim as possible. +Am I all right?"</p> + +<p>"You!" said Peggy, with a despairing +look, as she rubbed away at her nose; "as +if you ever had a pin or an eyelash out of +place! Margaret, how <i>do</i> you do it? Why +does dust avoid you, and cling to me as if I +were its last refuge? How do you make your +collar stay like that? I don't see why I was +born a Misfit Puzzle. Oh—ee! there <i>is</i> the +lake! just look, how blue it is! Oh! Margaret, +I <i>must</i> scream!"</p> + +<p>"You must <i>not</i> scream!" said Margaret +with quiet decision, pulling Peggy down into +the seat beside her. "You must be good, +and sit still. See! that old gentleman is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +watching us, Peggy. He will be scandalized +if you carry on so."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't look a bit scandalized; he +looks awfully jolly."</p> + +<p>"Peggy!"</p> + +<p>"Well, he does, Margaret. Do you suppose +Mr. Merryweather is anything like that? +<i>Margaret!</i>"</p> + +<p>"What is it, Peggy? <i>please</i> don't speak so +loud!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it <i>is</i> Mr. Merryweather. I think—I +am almost perfectly sure it must be. +Why, he is positively staring at us. It <i>must</i> +be Mr. Merryweather!"</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Merryweather specially addicted +to staring? I should not suppose so. This +gentleman is not in the least my idea of +Mr. Merryweather; and if he does stare,—there! +he is looking away now,—it is because +he sees a great big girl dancing and +jumping in her seat as if she were Polly +Peppercorn."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Next station Merryweather!" chanted the +brakeman.</p> + +<p>"There! Margaret, he is getting his things +together. It is! it <i>is</i>, I tell you. Oh! I +<i>shall</i> scream!"</p> + +<p>Peggy's threat was uttered in so loud a +stage whisper, that Margaret looked up in +alarm, fearing that the gentleman must have +heard. She met a glance so kind, so twinkling +with sympathetic merriment, that she +smiled in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>The gentleman lifted his hat, instantly, +and stepped forward. He was not tall, but +broad and muscular, with keen, dark eyes +that sparkled under shaggy white eyebrows; +a most vigorous, positive-looking old gentleman.</p> + +<p>"A thousand pardons!" he said, in a +deep, gruff voice which was the very essence +of heartiness. "You also are getting off at +Merryweather, young ladies? I beg the privilege +of assisting you with your parcels; I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +insist upon it! Permit me, madam!" and +he took possession of Margaret's travelling-bag, +Margaret blushing and protesting, while +Peggy's blue eyes grew to absolute circles, +and her little mouth opened to another.</p> + +<p>"You are very kind!" said Margaret. +"Indeed, I can carry it perfectly—thank +you so very much! Yes, we are going to +Mr. Merryweather's camp. Do you know—"</p> + +<p>"Harry Monmouth!" exclaimed the old +gentleman. "Astonishing! Going there myself. +Permit me to introduce myself—Colonel +Ferrers, at your service."</p> + +<p>He lifted his hat again, and bowed low.</p> + +<p>"Our name is Montfort," said Margaret +timidly, attracted and yet alarmed by his +explosive utterance, so different from the +quiet speech of the Montfort men.</p> + +<p>"Not John's daughters!" cried the +Colonel. "I'll be shot if you are John's +daughters!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! no," cried Margaret, her eyes lightening.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +"Not his daughters, but his nieces. +Do you know Uncle John, Colonel Ferrers?"</p> + +<p>"Know John Montfort? know the nose on +my face? not that there is any resemblance; +fine-looking man. I have known John Montfort, +my dear young ladies, ever since he was +in petticoats. John, Dick, Jim, Roger—fine +lads! used to stay at Roseholme—my place +in Dutchess County—forty years ago. School-boys +when I was in college. All over the +place, climbing, hunting, fishing, falling off +the roofs—great boys! haven't heard of +them for twenty years. Where are they +now? all living, I—eh, what?"</p> + +<p>"My father, Roger Montfort, is dead," said +Margaret, softly; "so is Uncle Richard. Uncle +John and Uncle James are living, Colonel +Ferrers; this is Uncle James's daughter. +Peggy dear, Colonel Ferrers! and I live with +Uncle John at Fernley House. Oh! how +delightful to meet some one who knows Uncle +John!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Pleasure is mine, I assure you!" said the +Colonel, gallantly. "Harry Monmouth! takes +me back forty years. Knew Roger, your +father, well, Miss Montfort. Great scholar; +fine fellow! nose in his books all day long, +just like my brother Raymond; great chums, +Roger and Raymond. I remember once—ha! +here we are!"</p> + +<p>"Merryweather!" shouted the brakeman. +The train drew up beside a little wayside +station. On one side of the track, a platform +and a shed, with a few barrels and boxes +lying about; on the other, a long stretch of +dark blue water, ruffling into brown where +the wind swept it.</p> + +<p>The three travellers, emerging, found three +persons awaiting them on the platform. +Gerald Merryweather was first, his hand on +the rail, his face alight with joy and eagerness; +close beside him was another person, a +tall girl in gray, at sight of whom Peggy, +who had been apparently stricken dumb by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +aspect of Colonel Ferrers, shouted aloud and +tumbled off the car-step, to the imminent peril +of life and limb.</p> + +<p>"Snowy! Snowy! is it really you?"</p> + +<p>"You dear Peggy!" cried Gertrude Merryweather, +taking her in her arms, and giving +her a hearty kiss. "I am <i>so</i> glad! and this +is Margaret—oh! welcome, most welcome, +to Merryweather! Dear Colonel Ferrers, how +do you do? it was so good of you to come! +But where is Hugh? haven't you brought +him?"</p> + +<p>Colonel Ferrers drew her a step aside.</p> + +<p>"My dear Gertrude," he said, in a confidential +tone, "there is no need of my +telling <i>you</i> that Hugh is one of the most +astonishing—I will say <i>the</i> most astonishing +boy I ever saw in my life. Expected to come; +looking forward to it for weeks, greatest +pleasure of the summer. Yesterday morning, +Elizabeth Beadle had an attack of lumbago; +painful thing; confined to her bed; excellent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +woman, none better in the world. Never +could understand why good people should have +lumbago; excellent complaint for scoundrels; +excellent! well, the boy—his great-aunt, you +understand!—refuses to leave her. Says she +likes to have him read to her! Preposterous! +I insisted, Elizabeth Beadle insisted, with tears +in her eyes; tears, sir! I mean my dear! Boy +immovable; Gibraltar vacillating beside him; +tottering, sir, on its foundations. I had to come +away and leave him, perfectly happy, reading +Tennyson to Elizabeth Beadle. Ask somebody +else to coerce a boy like that; Thomas Ferrers +is not the man for it. Where's my Cochin +China Chittagong?"</p> + +<p>"Jack?" said Gertrude, laughing. "He is +behind the shed, with the horses. The old +horse doesn't like the train, and will not stand +tying. As soon as Jerry gets the trunks—"</p> + +<p>"Checks?" cried the Colonel, in answer +to Gerald's request. "Two of them, sir. Sole-leather +trunk, green carpet-bag. Anything for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +me by express? box, hamper, basket, that sort +of thing, eh, what?"</p> + +<p>"I should think there was, sir!" said +Gerald. "A basket of peaches as big as the +camp, or very near it; and a hamper that +says 'salmon!' as plainly as if it could speak. +You're awfully good, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the sort!" retorted the Colonel. +"Pity if I can't have a little gratification +once in a way. Ah! there is my Cochin +China—how are you, sir, how are you? +prancing, as usual, like an Egyptian war-horse. +Come here, and be introduced to the Miss +Montforts! We are in luck, sir! Miss Montfort, +Miss—eh? thank you! Miss Peggy +Montfort, my nephew, John Ferrers. Here +sir! take the bags, will you? Which way, +Gerald? eh? what?"</p> + +<p>While the colonel was explaining (and exploding) +to Gerald and Gertrude, and Margaret +looking and listening in quiet amusement, +Peggy had been hanging back, overcome in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +her turn by the shyness which her companion +had conquered. But now Gertrude +took her by the hand, and while the trunks +were being hoisted on the wagon by Gerald +and Jack, aided by a tall and powerful lad in +blue overalls, the two walked up and down +the little platform in earnest talk. Fragments +of it reached Margaret where she stood, +as they passed and repassed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, last week. She is very well, she +says, and fluffier than ever, on account of the +heat. She has enjoyed her school very much. +She wanted Grace to join her, and I think +she might have, if all this had not come about. +Oh, Peggy, I was so glad!"</p> + +<p>"Blissful, my dear, is no word for it! they +have no eyes for any one else. He can't remember +that there is any one else, and she—"</p> + +<p>"Well, I always said that if Grace did care +for any one—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, in October. The wedding is to be +at Fernley, and—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Anybody coming with me?" inquired +Gerald, wistfully. "Margaret, will you risk +life and limb with me and the old horse?"</p> + +<p>"With pleasure!" said Margaret. "Is he +very wild? He doesn't look so."</p> + +<p>"Only by comparison with the young +horse!" said Gerald. "Jacob, don't strain +your back lifting that carpet-bag!"</p> + +<p>Jacob, the youth in blue overalls, smiled +calmly, and swung a large trunk over his +shoulder as if it were a hand-satchel.</p> + +<p>"It's you I'm scared about, Gerald," he +said slowly; "fear you'll do yourself a hurt +pulling on the reins. Frank hasn't been out +since yesterday."</p> + +<p>"I'll risk him!" said Gerald. "Now, +Margaret." He held out his hand, and Margaret +stepped lightly up to the seat of the +Concord wagon.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Gerald, "Jack, if you'll +drive the beach-wagon—is that all right, +Toots?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Certainly!" said Gertrude. "Peggy, you +and I will sit together behind; that is, if you +do not mind the front seat, Colonel Ferrers? +So! all right now, Jack! we'd better let the +old horse go first, for he doesn't like to stay +behind the new one. Oh! Jacob! how are +you going home? we must make room for +you somewhere."</p> + +<p>"I'll go across lots," said the blue youth, +"and be there to take the horses when you +get there. You better hurry them up the +least mite, so's I sha'n't have to wait too +long!"</p> + +<p>With a benign smile he vaulted over a five-barred +gate, and went with a long, leisurely +stride across the fields.</p> + +<p>"He'll run when he gets round the corner!" +said Gerald. "I know that's the way +he does it. Get up, Frank! do <i>play</i> you +are alive, just for once. Oh, Margaret, I am +so glad to see you. I thought September +would never come. It has been the longest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +summer I ever knew. Haven't you found +it so?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no!" said truthful Margaret. "It +has seemed very short to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, of course it has been short too, +summers always are; like the dachshund!"</p> + +<p>"The dachshund!" repeated Margaret. +"What can a dachshund have to do with +summer, Gerald?"</p> + +<p>"A description I once heard," said Gerald. +"I was walking with Beppo, my dachs, and a +little boy stopped to look at him. 'Ain't he +long?' he said. 'My! ain't he short?' Even +so summer. Oh, I <i>am</i> glad to see you. Get +up, Frank!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>THE CAMP</h3> + + + +<p><span class="smcap">A long</span>, low, irregular building, with a wide +verandah in front, the lake rippling and ruffling +almost up to the piers; beyond, great +hills rolling up and away. To right and left, +boat-houses and tents; hammocks swung between +the trees, fishing-rods ranged along the +sides of the building. This was the Camp. +As the wagons drove up, Mrs. Merryweather +hurried from the house, and Mr. Merryweather +and Phil came up with long strides from the +wharf. Amid a chorus of eager welcome, a +babel of questions and answers, the travellers +were helped out and escorted to the verandah.</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/gs02.jpg" width="500" height="344" alt=""'HERE IS YOURS,' SAID BELL; 'NEXT TO OURS.'"" title=""'HERE IS YOURS,' SAID BELL; 'NEXT TO OURS.'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'HERE IS YOURS,' SAID BELL; 'NEXT TO OURS.'"</span> +</div> + +<p>"Most welcome, all!" cried Mrs. Merryweather. +"Are you very tired? No? that is +good! Well, but you must be hungry, I am<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +sure. There are doughnuts and milk on the +table; or if you would rather have tea—"</p> + +<p>"They are not hungry, Miranda!" said +Mr. Merryweather. "They cannot be hungry +at three o'clock. Dined at Wayport, Ferrers? +Of course! Jack, show your uncle his tent! +Miss Montfort—"</p> + +<p>"I'll show them the way, Papa!" said +Gertrude. "Where is Bell, Mammy? Oh, +there she is! Bell, here are Margaret and +Peggy; girls, this is Bell!"</p> + +<p>Bell Merryweather, a sturdy, blue-eyed girl +with the general aspect of a snow apple, +greeted the guests with a hearty shake of a +powerful hand, and a cordial smile.</p> + +<p>"We have been looking forward so to your +coming!" she said. "Don't you want to come +out to your tent? Here, I'll take your bag, +Margaret; shall I say 'Margaret' at once? +it will be so much nicer. This way!"</p> + +<p>She led the way, Margaret following, +Gertrude and Peggy after them, still talking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +eagerly. A row of flagstones led past +the boat-house, and on under solemn pines +and feathery birches to where a line of tents +stood facing the water.</p> + +<p>"Here is yours," said Bell; "next to ours, +this big one; we are three, you see. Yours +is small, but I hope you can be comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Comfortable!" echoed Peggy; "I should +think so! Oh, Margaret, do look! how perfect +everything is! Oh, what ducky beds! the red +blankets are just like home; our boys have +red blankets. Oh, I shall be perfectly happy +here!"</p> + +<p>Margaret, accustomed to the wide spaces +and ample closets of Fernley House, was a +little bewildered at the first glance around +her. The tent was hardly bigger than the +stateroom of a moderate-sized steamer. Could +two persons live here in anything approaching +comfort? A second glance showed her how +compactly and conveniently everything was +arranged. The narrow cots, with their scarlet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +blankets and blue check pillows, stood on +either side; between them was a table, with +blotter of birch bark, and an inkstand made by +hollowing out a quaintly shaped piece of wood +and sinking in the hollow a small glass tumbler. +Above the head of each bed hung a long +shoe-bag with many pockets, while opposite +the foot were rows of hooks for dresses, a shelf +on which stood pitcher, basin, etc., and a chest +of drawers. All was fresh, neat, and tidy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am sure we shall be happy!" said +Margaret, repeating Peggy's words.</p> + +<p>"Here is the hook for your lantern," said +Bell. "Here is a little jar for crackers, but +be sure to keep it covered, or the squirrels +will carry them off. I hope you will not +mind a squirrel coming in now and then? +they are so tame, they come hopping in to +see if we have anything for them; I often +leave a bit of something."</p> + +<p>"Oh! what fun!" said Peggy. "I love +to tame squirrels. Ours at home will come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +and eat from our hands. Will yours do +that?"</p> + +<p>"Not often; at least, not for me. The +boys can bring them sometimes. I think they +like boys best. But I have a dear little field-mouse +who brings me her babies to look at +now and then, just to show me how they are +growing. There, now, we go on chattering, +when I know you ought to rest awhile, and +unpack and stow away. It takes quite a bit +of planning for two persons to fit into a tent. +By and by, when you are all settled, would +you like to go out on the water? Hurrah! +we'll come for you. Come on, Toots!"</p> + +<p>The two sisters walked slowly down the +long slip that led to the floating wharf, and +sat down with their feet hanging over the +edge.</p> + +<p>"Well, Bell!" said Gertrude, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Well!" said Bell, slowly.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of them? Isn't she +lovely? and isn't Peggy a dear?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," said Bell. "I think you have +just hit it, Toots. Peggy is a dear; just a +hearty, jolly dear; but Margaret is lovely. +Do you see a little hint of Hilda? I can't +tell where it is; not in the features, certainly, +nor in the coloring. I think it is in the +brow and eyes; a kind of noble look; I don't +know how else to put it. You wouldn't say +anything false or base to this girl, any more +than you would to Hilda; you wouldn't dare. +My lamb! I speak as if falseness and baseness +were the usual note of your conversation."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were a trifle severe," said +Gertrude, smiling. "Well, anyhow, it is a joy +to have them here, and dear Colonel Ferrers, +too. What shall we do this evening? Here +come the boys for a council."</p> + +<p>The twins, Gerald and Phil, came running +down the wharf, followed by Jack Ferrers. +The latter, whom some of my readers may +have known as an awkward, "leggy" boy, was +now a man. Very tall, towering three or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +four inches above the six-foot Merryweathers, +he still kept his boyish slenderness and spring, +though the awkward angles were somehow +softened away. He no longer stooped and +shambled, but held his head up and his +shoulders back; and if he did still prance, +as his uncle declared, like the Mighty Ones of +Scripture, it was not an ungraceful prancing. +Briefly, Jack Ferrers was a fine-looking +fellow.</p> + +<p>"Council of War?" asked Gerald; "or +do we intrude?"</p> + +<p>"Sit down!" said Bell. "We were just +beginning to plan the evening. What are +your ideas, if any?"</p> + +<p>The boys—for they were still the boys, +even if they had passed one and twenty—stretched +themselves along the wharf in +picturesque attitudes.</p> + +<p>"I would sing!" announced Gerald. +"Prose will not express my feelings at this +juncture.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> + +<div class='poem'> +"My fertile brain is simmering,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">My fancy's fire is glimmering;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I'd fain betake</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Me to the lake,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">When bright the moonlight's shimmering.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Your turn, Ferguson. Go on; the song +upraise!"</p> + +<p>"Let me see!" said Phil. "Well—on the +whole—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"I can't agree with himmering;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;"><i>My</i> fancy's fire is dimmering;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">If you would know</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The thing I'd doe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Methinks I'll go a swimmering."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Oh! no, Phil," said Gertrude. "Not +the very first night the girls are here; it will +take them a day or two to get used to camp +ways, Margaret at least; and we want to do +something all together, something that Colonel +Ferrers will like, too. I think—"</p> + +<p>"Sing it! sing it!" cried Gerald. "The +song upraise, Tintinnabula! no escape! +'Trimmering' is still left you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is there only one vowel?" demanded Bell, +laughing. "I refuse to be fettered. Wait +a second!—now I have it.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Forbear, forbear your clamoring,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And cease this hasty hammering;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">I think, with Jerry,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">'Twere wise and merry</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">To row by moonlight glamouring.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>Your turn, Toots!"</div> + +<p>"I cannot!" said Gertrude. "You know +I cannot, Bell. Besides, there aren't any more +rhymes."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Gerald, "you know what +you are telling, and you know what happens +to people who tell them. Perpend, Tootsina!</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"You yodel, yodel yammering,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">You stutter, stutter stammering;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">And when you cry,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">'I will not try!'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">We know you're only shammering."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Gracious!" said Gertrude. "Don't you +suppose I would make rhymes if I could? It's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +really a dreadful thing to be the only prose +member of a large family. But Jack comforts +me; you can't make them either, can +you, Jack?"</p> + +<p>"Not to save my life!" said Jack. "Never +could see how they do it."</p> + +<p>"But you can set them to music!" said +Gertrude. "That is the delightful thing +about you."</p> + +<p>"And you can illustrate them! That is +one of the many delightful things about +you!" said Jack, with a low bow.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'They built it up for forty miles,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">With mutual bows and pleasing smiles!'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>quoted Gerald. "A truce to this badinage! +Compliment, unless paid to myself, wearies +me. We go, then, in canoes?"</div> + +<p>"In canoes!" replied the others in chorus.</p> + +<p>"'Tis well! Any special stunts in the way +of arrangement?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Jack, "in plain prose—Bell,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +will you come with me? It's our turn to get +supper, isn't it? and I have an idea—just a +little one—which we can talk over while we +are getting it."</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Oh, guard it, guard it tenderly,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thy one idea—thy first!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>sang Gerald.</div> + +<div class='poem'> +"And we, the while, console ourselves;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">'Twill be the last, at worst!</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>Nay! nay!" he went on, as Jack seized him +by the shoulders, and made a motion toward +the water.</div> + +<div class='poem'> +"Duck not the bard, the tuneful bard,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Who all thy soul reveals;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">To hear the truth, I own, is hard,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Yet dry thy tearful squeals!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"False construction!" said Bell. "You +cannot dry squeals."</p> + +<p>"They were tearful ones!" Gerald protested. +"It was the tears I would have dried.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +Tears, idle tears, I know not whence they +come; tears from the depth of some despairing +fiddler."</p> + +<p>"Suppose you dry <i>up!</i>" said Jack, dipping +Gerald's head lightly in the water.</p> + +<p>"No ducking between swims!" proclaimed +Phil. "Law of the Medes and Persians!"</p> + +<p>"Besides, it is time to be making the fire!" +said Bell, rising. "Leave him to his conscience, +Jack, and come along!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, leave me to me conscience!" said +Gerald.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Twill cradle me with songs of Araby;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Arrah be aisy! hear it sing to me!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Jerry, what <i>has</i> got into you?" asked +Gertrude, a few minutes later, when Phil had +followed the others to the house, leaving the +two Reds, as their mother called them, together. +"Has the rhyming spider bitten you? +you are really wild!"</p> + +<p>"Nice little sister!" said Gerald, rolling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +over, and resting his head on Gertrude's knee. +"Nice little red-haired, cream-colored, comfortable +sister! If I were as good-looking as +you, Toots, who knows? As it is—but still I +am happy, my child, happy! I say! Toots!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Jerry!"</p> + +<p>"What do you think of her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jerry, she is a darling!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Dixisti!</i>" cried Gerald. "Thou hast +spoken."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>AUF DAS WASSER ZU SINGEN</h3> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Harry Monmouth</span>!" said Colonel Ferrers. +"This is pleasant. Merryweather, you are a +lucky dog!" As he spoke, he looked around +him, and repeated, "A lucky dog, sir!"</p> + +<p>The horn had just blown for supper, three +long blasts, and already the campers were in +their places at the long table, with its shining +white cover. Mr. and Mrs. Merryweather, +their six children, Bell, Gertrude, and Kitty, +Gerald, Philip, and Willy, the two Montforts, +with the Colonel and his nephew, made a +party of twelve, and filled the table comfortably, +though there was still room for more. +The room was a long one, with a vast open +fireplace stretching half across one side. At +one end were rows of book-shelves, filled to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +overflowing; at the other, the walls were +adorned with models for boats, sketches in +water-color and pen and ink, birds' nests, curious +fungi, and all manner of odds and ends. +It was certainly a cheerful room, and so Miles +Merryweather thought, as his eyes followed +the Colonel's.</p> + +<p>"We like it!" he said, simply. "It suits +us, the place and the life. It's good for young +and old both, to get away from hurry and +bustle, and live for a time the natural +life."</p> + +<p>"Nature, sir!" said the Colonel. "Nature! +that's it; nothing like it! When I was a lad, +young men were sent abroad, after their school +or college course; the grand tour, Paris, Vienna, +that sort of thing: very good thing in +its way, too, monstrous good thing. But +before he sees the world, sir, a lad should +know how to live, as you say, the natural +life. Ought to know what a tree is when he +sees it; upon my soul, he ought. Now my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +milksop—best fellow in the world, I give +you my word, except that little fellow at +home there—well, sir! when he came to me, +he didn't know the difference between an oak +and an elm, give you my word he didn't. +Remember one day—he heard me giving +directions to Giuseppe about cutting some +ashes—clump of them in the field below the +house, needed thinning out—and he wanted +to know how ashes could be cut; thought I +meant those in the fireplace, sir. Monstrous! +Well, I taught him a little, and you and your +young folks have taught him a great deal. +H'm! I don't know that he is now more disgracefully +ignorant than nine-tenths of the +young men of his age. Set of noodles! I'll +tell you what, Merryweather! You ought to +have a kind of summer school here: get other +boys, a dozen, two dozen; teach 'em to see +with their eyes, and all the rest of it. I +knew a boy once who thought a bat was a +bird, give you my word I did. And another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +who thought oysters grew on bushes. Get up +a school, sir, and I'll come myself, and be a +boy again."</p> + +<p>"That is a great inducement," said Mr. +Merryweather, laughing: "but, Colonel, I +hope you have brought a boy's appetite +with you, at least. Who are the cooks to-night, +Miranda? Oh, I see; Bell and Jack. +Well, that is all right, Colonel; they make +one of our best combinations. What have +you there, Jack?"</p> + +<p>Jack, in a white cap, and an apron reaching +not quite half-way to his knees, advanced +bearing a mighty dish, from which rose fragrant +steam.</p> + +<p>"H'm! ha!" said the Colonel, sniffing. +"Smells good! you had no hand in this, I'll +be bound, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Colonel Ferrers," said Bell, who +followed with the teapot and a plate piled +high with feathery rolls, "it is all Jack's +doing, every bit. It is his famous pilaff, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +the old Greek professor taught him to make +in Germany; and it is almost the best thing +you ever tasted in your life."</p> + +<p>"H'm!" said the Colonel, frowning heavily, +and looking immensely pleased. "So this is +what he was doing while he was supposed to +be studying. I always knew the rascal was +deceiving me. Ha! it <i>is</i> good; it's uncommon +good! So you did learn something besides +fiddling, eh, Jack?"</p> + +<p>"Cooking is a part of chemistry, Uncle," +said Jack, soberly; "a very important part. +This dish is chemically prepared, sir; please +regard it as a demonstration!"</p> + +<p>"And please try my fried potatoes as a +further demonstration!" said Bell. "Margaret, +you are not eating anything."</p> + +<p>"She never does!" said Peggy.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Margaret, "but I never ate +so much before. Oh, please not!" as Phil +tried to heap her plate with potatoes. "They +are delicious, but I really cannot!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I can!" said Gertrude, holding out her +plate.</p> + +<p>"I'll warrant you!" said Phil. "No one +doubted that, sweet Chuck!"</p> + +<p>"We do not look for the Camp Appetite till +after twenty-four hours," said Mrs. Merryweather. +"Give Margaret time! in two days +she will eat twice as much as she does now."</p> + +<p>"Harry Monmouth!" exclaimed the Colonel. +"At that rate, it is fortunate for you +all that I do not outstay my two days. Twice +as much as I am eating now would clear your +larder, dear madam. Yes, thanks, Merryweather, +a little more!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Colonel Ferrers!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Uncle Tom! you are not going away +in two days? We counted on a week at least!" +cried all in chorus.</p> + +<p>"Impossible, dear people, impossible! Like +nothing better; enchanted to stay all summer; +delightful place. But—Elizabeth Beadle's +condition, you understand; and the boy—I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +must get back. He is too young to have the +responsibility. Most amazing boy in the +world; I haven't the slightest doubt that +he is doing her more good than all the doctors +in the world—parcel of fools, mostly—but +still he is too young; I must get back."</p> + +<p>"Let me go, Uncle!" said Jack.</p> + +<p>"Or me, Colonel Ferrers!" cried Gertrude. +"Any one of us would love to go!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel beamed on them with his kindliest +smile, but shook his head resolutely. +"Thanks! thanks!" he said, heartily. "Good +children! kind and thoughtful children! but +I must go. Couldn't be easy, you understand."</p> + +<p>"The fact is," said Jack, "Uncle Tom +cannot be comfortable for more than twenty-four +hours away from Hugh. After that +length of time he becomes restive, and symptoms +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'develope'">develop</ins> which—"</p> + +<p>"Hold your tongue, sir!" cried the Colonel. +"Nothing of the sort, sir! Mrs. Merryweather,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +I hoped you were teaching this fellow +better manners. Symptoms, indeed! You +have seen no symptoms in me, of anything +except pure pleasure—pleasure in everything +except the gabbling of a goose!"</p> + +<p>"Surely not, dear friend!" said Mrs. +Merryweather, laughing. "But all the same, +I think I should not try to detain you when +once you had made up your mind that Hugh +needed you."</p> + +<p>"All against me!" cried the Colonel. +"'The little dogs and all'—I beg ten thousand +pardons, my dear madam; you know +the quotation! Well," he added, his face +changing suddenly as he turned to Mrs. Merryweather +and spoke in a lower tone, "fortunate +old fellow, eh? to have one young face—two, +perhaps, for my Giraffe loves me +too—brighten when one comes. Ah! you, +with all your wealth—richest woman of my +acquaintance, give you my honor!—cannot +tell what these boys mean to me. Hilda, too:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +most astonishing how I miss that child! but +all your young people are so good to me—"</p> + +<p>"Colonel!" cried Gertrude from the other +end of the table. "Will you come with me +in my canoe after tea?"</p> + +<p>"Will I?" cried the Colonel. "Won't I? +Lead the way, my dear!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The young moon shone bright; the lake +lay a broad sheet of luminous black, with a +silver path stretching across it. Four canoes +lay beside the wharf, and the campers were +taking their places. In the birch canoe, the +original <i>Cheemaun</i>, Mrs. Merryweather was +going as passenger, with her husband and +Phil at bow and stern; in the <i>Nahma</i> was +Colonel Ferrers, with Gertrude and Peggy; +Kitty and Willy in the <i>Rob Roy</i>, Gerald and +Margaret in the <i>Wenonah</i>.</p> + +<p>"All ready?" asked the chief. "Where +shall we go? Where are Jack and Bell?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they started ahead," said Phil. "They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +had some stunt on hand, and we are to meet +them over by the Black Shore."</p> + +<p>"Ready—give way all!"</p> + +<p>The paddles dipped, the canoes shot out +along the silver path, gliding swift and silent +as spirits. For a time no one spoke. The +<i>Cheemaun</i>, with the powerful arms at either +end, took the lead and kept it easily: next +came the <i>Nahma</i> and the <i>Rob</i>, nearly abreast, +and vying with each other; but the <i>Wenonah</i> +lagged behind, and seemed in no special +hurry.</p> + +<p>"Like it?" asked Gerald, presently.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Margaret, softly.</p> + +<p>Gerald gave a little grunt of content, and +was silent again. The paddle dipped noiseless +in the liquid silver, the dark prow crept +noiseless along the shining way.</p> + +<p>"It is another world!" said Margaret +presently, still speaking under her breath. +"I never dreamed of anything like it. A +silver world! Oh!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing—I was only thinking—one +ought to be very good, to live in a world so +beautiful as this, Gerald!"</p> + +<p>"Some of us are, Margaret!"</p> + +<p>Silence again.</p> + +<p>"I'm awfully glad you like it!" said +Gerald. "I hoped you would. I've—I've +been looking forward all summer to your +coming."</p> + +<p>"I was very glad to come," said Margaret, +simply. "I was afraid, but I was glad, +too."</p> + +<p>"Afraid? I should like to know what you +were afraid of!"</p> + +<p>"Oh—I don't know! I have never been +with many people, you know. I have never +seen a large family together before. How +happy you all are!"</p> + +<p>"That's what we are!" said Gerald. +"Especially now! I say, Margaret! the +child Toots has fallen a victim."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Fallen a—what do you mean, Gerald? +not into the water?"</p> + +<p>"Charms!" said Gerald. "Yours. Bowled +her over completely. Nice child, the child +Toots. Think so?"</p> + +<p>"I think she looks as good as she is +beautiful," said Margaret. "Does she really +like me? I am very glad, for I know I shall +love her."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think she is the image of me?" +asked Gerald, plaintively.</p> + +<p>"No, I never thought of it!" said downright +Margaret. "Oh! hark, Gerald; what +is that? I hear music."</p> + +<p>They listened. Directly in front of them +lay a deep black shadow, and forth from +this shadow stole notes of music, low, sweet, +almost unearthly in their purity and clearness.</p> + +<p>"Evidently the stunt of Tintinnabula and +the Camelopard!" said Gerald. "That is the +Black Shore yonder, and the noise is that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +of the Tree-browser's fiddle, in sooth a goodly +noise. Approach we along the moonglade! +that is what we call the wake here. Pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Lovely!" murmured Margaret. "Oh! +but hush, and listen!"</p> + +<p>The other canoes had slackened their speed, +and now all four crept on abreast over the +luminous water. From the black shadow +ahead forms began to detach themselves, black +rocks, dark trees stooping to the water's edge, +fir and pine, with here and there a white birch +glimmering ghostlike; and still the music +rose, ever clearer and sweeter, thrilling on the +silent air. It seemed no voice of anything +made by man; it was as if the trees spoke, +the rocks, the water, the very silence itself. +But now—now another tone was heard; a +human voice this time, a full, rich contralto, +blending with the aerial notes of the violin.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Over all the mountains is peace;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Among the tree-tops</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Hardly a breath is stirring;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The birds are silent,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Silent in the woodland;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Only wait! only wait!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Soon thou too shalt rest."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Harry Monmouth!" murmured the Colonel +under his breath. "Am I alive, or is +this the gate of Heaven?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! who is it?" whispered Margaret.</p> + +<p>"Tintinnabula! rather a neat thing in +voices, the Tintinnabula's. Nor does the +song altogether excite to strenutation. Ah! +but that is the best yet!"</p> + +<p>The notes changed. It was Schubert's +Serenade now that rose from voice and violin +together. No one stirred. The canoes were +now close inshore, and the long, soft fingers +of fir and cedar brushed Margaret's cheek as +she sat motionless, spellbound. It was a +world of soft darkness, black upon black: the +silver world they had just left seemed almost +garish as she looked back on it. Here in the +cool shadow, the voices of the night pouring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +forth their wonderful melody—"Oh!" she +thought; "if this might last forever!"</p> + +<p>But it was over. Floating round a great +rock that stretched far out from the shore, +they came upon the musicians, their canoe +drawn up close to the rock.</p> + +<p>"Here they are!" cried Willy. "It's Bell +and Jack, Kitty; I knew it was. You are +such a silly!"</p> + +<p>"I don't care!" pouted Kitty. "It did +sound like nymphs; I am sure that is just the +way they sound."</p> + +<p>"You are quite right, Kitty," said her +mother. "Children, you have given us +a great treat. May we not have some +more?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, we were only waiting for you," said +Bell; "now we must have choruses, many +of them!"</p> + +<p>And lying close together, the paddles +stretched across from one canoe to another, +the Merryweathers sang, to Jack's accompaniment,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +song after song in chorus: German +student songs, with merry refrain of "<i>vivallera +la</i>" and "<i>juch heira sa sa!</i>" Scottish +ballads and quaint old Highland boat-songs; +till Mr. Merryweather declared that it was +time to go home.</p> + +<p>So home they went, down the moonglade +once more, across the glimmering floor of the +lake, singing as they went; till, twinkling +through the fringe of trees, they saw the +lights of the Camp, and the long outline of +the float, and the boats swinging at their +moorings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>AFTER THE PICNIC</h3> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">And</span> what comes next on the programme?" +asked the Chief.</p> + +<p>"Coma, I should say," replied Colonel +Ferrers. "After that watermelon, I see +nothing else for it. It's my avowed belief +that my nephew there could not stir if his +life depended on it; it stands to reason. +The boy has eaten more than his own weight. +Monstrous!"</p> + +<p>"What a frightful calumny!" cried Jack, +laughing. "Really, Uncle Tom, you cannot +expect me to sit still under that."</p> + +<p>He rose lightly to his feet, and grasping a +branch of the tree above his head, drew himself +up, and after kicking his long legs several +times in the air, finally twisted them round<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +the branch, and in another moment had disappeared +in the shadowy depths of the great +hemlock.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I say!" his voice floated down. +"This is a great tree to climb. You'd better +come up, Uncle Tom, if you feel the slightest +symptoms of coma."</p> + +<p>The other lads did not wait to be invited, +but flung themselves at the tree, and were +soon lost to sight, though not to sound. +Colonel Ferrers turned to his hostess with a +frown which tried hard not to turn into a +smile.</p> + +<p>"Now, did you ever hear of such impudence +as that?" he asked. "These young +fellows of to-day are the most impudent +scoundrels I ever came across. Time was, +though, when we could have climbed a tree +with the best of them; eh, Merryweather?"</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt you could now, Colonel," +said his host, "if you were put to it; but +I confess it is more comfortable under a tree<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +than in it, nowadays, especially after a Gargantuan +feast like this."</p> + +<p>It had indeed been a great picnic. The +boys, while on a tramp, had discovered a +grove of pines and hemlocks, huge old trees, +which had unaccountably escaped the woodman's +axe. The pines shot up straight and +tall for a hundred feet and more, their trunks +seamed and scarred, their clouds of dusky +green plumes tossing far overhead; the hemlocks +were no less massive in girth, but they +were twisted into all manner of grotesque +shapes, and their feathery branches hung low, +making a dense canopy over the heads of the +picnickers. Here, under one of these hemlocks, +the cloth had been laid, and decorated +with ferns and hemlock tassels. Then the +baskets were unpacked, and the campers +feasted as only dwellers in the open air +can feast. Ham and pasty, sandwiches and +rolls, jam and doughnuts—nothing seemed +to come amiss; and they finished off with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +watermelon of such mighty proportions that +it took all the united energies of the boys to +dispose of it.</p> + +<p>But it was finally disposed of, and now +came the hour that is apt to be a little difficult +at picnics; the hour between the feast +and the going home.</p> + +<p>"I have a new game," said Mrs. Merryweather. +"Perhaps you would like to try it +presently; but first, Colonel Ferrers, while +the boys are skylarking, or rather tree-larking, +up there, I want to hear the story you +were telling Miles on the drive over. I could +not hear very well on the back seat, and besides, +I was making up my game. It was +some adventure of yours when you were a +boy."</p> + +<p>"Capital story!" said Mr. Merryweather. +"Do tell it, Colonel; I want to hear it again."</p> + +<p>The Colonel smiled, and puffed meditatively +at his cigar.</p> + +<p>"Story of the barrel, eh?" he said. "Upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +my word, now, I think it is pretty hard to +make me tell that story before all these young +people. What do you say, Gertrude? you +don't want to hear about your old friend's +being a young fool, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Colonel Ferrers," said Gertrude; "a +story that makes your eyes twinkle so must +be one that we all want to hear. Do begin, +please!"</p> + +<p>And all the girls, who had been putting +away the table-cloth and "tidying-up" generally, +gathered about the Colonel in an eager +group.</p> + +<p>"Well! well!" he said, glancing from one +bright face to another. "After all, what are +we old fogies for, but to point a moral and +adorn a tale? Listen, then. This happened +when I was a young jackanapes of about my +nephew's age; I knew everything in the world +then, you understand, and nobody else knew +much of anything. That was my belief, as +it is the belief of most young men."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Uncle," said a voice from above, "there +are three young men up here who are prepared +to drop things on your head if you +slander their generation."</p> + +<p>"Slander your generation, sir?" cried the +Colonel, "by likening it to my own? Of all +the monstrous insolence I ever heard—you +may be thankful, sir, that I name yours in +the same breath with it. Be good enough to +hold your tongue, sir, and attend to your business, +which is that of listening to me. Well, +my dear madam, at the period of which I +speak, I was in the office of my uncle, Marmaduke +Ferrers, India merchant, importer of +tea, silks, that sort of thing. Learning the +trade, you understand; though, as I say, +I was not aware that there was anything in +particular to learn. This is one of the lessons +I did learn. One day I was sent to the warehouse +to count some barrels, and see them +stowed away in the vault where they belonged. +They were a special thing, barrels<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +of minerals for some collection museum, I +forget what. Out of our own line, but we +had undertaken to store and keep them for a +time. The vault was directly under the warehouse, +which was some way from the office. +So! I went down and found no one there; +The men were at their dinner, you understand. +They may have been a little in a hurry, may +have started a few minutes before the bell +rang; I don't know how it was. At any rate, +I was in a towering passion; thought the whole +business was going to the dogs for want of +discipline, wanted to dismiss every man in the +warehouse. Men who had been there before +I was born, and knew more about tea than I +was likely to know in my lifetime. Well, +sir, it came into my ass's head that I would +give these men a lesson, show them that +there was some one in the place that meant to +have things done when he wanted them done. +I would stow those barrels myself. I was +strong as a bull, you remember—I beg ten<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +thousand pardons! you and your husband +were infants when this happened; not out of +long clothes, I am positive. But I was +uncommonly strong, and thought Milo and +Hercules would have found me a tough subject +to tackle. Well—speaking of tackle—there +was the rope and pulley, all ready +for lowering; block up at the ceiling, rope +dangling,—just over the trap that led into +the vault. There were the barrels; nothing +was easier, I thought. Child's play; I would +have every one of the barrels lowered and +stowed before those scoundrels came back +from their dinner. I pushed the first barrel +to the edge of the trap (lifted the trap-door +first, you understand), hooked on the 'fall,' +pleased as Punch with myself—the only man +in the world, I give you my word; then I got +a good hold on the rope, and—kicked the +barrel over the edge."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Colonel Ferrers!" cried the girls.</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! ha!" roared the boys in the tree.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Loaded with minerals, you understand! +stone, metal, I don't know what. The barrel +went down, and I went up."</p> + +<p>"<i>Oh!</i> Colonel Ferrers!"</p> + +<p>"Up to the ceiling, I give you my word. +High room, too, great warehouse, twenty feet +if it was one. There I hung, and there I +swung, a spectacle for gods and men."</p> + +<p>"What <i>did</i> you do?" asked Mrs. Merryweather, +as soon as she could control her +laughter. "Dear friend, it is most heartless +to laugh, but how can we help it? How did +you ever get down? did you have to wait till +the men came back?"</p> + +<p>"No, madam. My pride would not allow +that. I learned my lesson, or a part of it, +while I hung there like Mahomet's coffin; I +learned that Gravitation did not trouble itself +about superior young men; but I did not learn +all that there was to learn; that took the sequel. +Well, I hung there, as I say, revolving +slowly; centrifugal force, you understand; I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +was really exemplifying the workings of natural +forces; interesting demonstration, if there +had been any one there to see. My crumb of +comfort was that there was no one. I must +get down before those men came back from +dinner; that was the one thing necessary in +the world at that moment. I measured the +space of the trap as I swung; I prided myself +on my correct eye; you see I was a most +complete ass: I have seen only a few completer. +I thought I could jump down astride +of the trap, so to speak, and get no harm. I +came down the rope, hand over fist, till I got +to the end of it; only about six feet between +me and safety: then I jumped."</p> + +<p>"And did you—"</p> + +<p>"No, my dear madam, I did not. I went +down into the cellar, on top of the barrel, and +I carry the mark of the edge of that barrel on +my shoulders to this day, and shall to my +latest day. And the moral of this story," +the Colonel concluded, glancing up into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +depths of the great hemlock, "the moral, my +young friends, is: wait till you know something +before you decide that you know everything."</p> + +<p>When the laughter had subsided, Mr. Merryweather +said: "Your story, Colonel, reminds +me of a scrape that Roger and I once got into, +years ago. No, it wasn't Roger, it was my +brother Will. My children all know it, but it +may be new to you and our other guests. It +happened when we were out sailing one day, +on this very pond. The water was pretty low +that year, and we got over into a cove on the +north side, where we seldom went, and didn't +know the ground thoroughly. Indeed, in +very low water, one is apt to find that one +doesn't know any ground thoroughly. New +ledges and rocks are constantly cropping out—as +you shall hear. Well, we were sailing +along in fine style, before a fair wind, when +suddenly—we ran aground."</p> + +<p>"On the shore?" asked the Colonel.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No; on a rock. It was getting dark, +and we could not see very well, but I could +see a nose of rock, and it looked like the end +of a ledge. 'I'll get out and shove her off!' +said I. I sounded with an oar, and found the +water barely ankle-deep on the ledge. So I +took off my shoes and stockings, rolled up my +trousers a little, and stepped in—up to my +neck!"</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!" roared the Colonel. "Ho! ho! +that was sport. I wish I had seen you."</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment!" said the Chief. "The +picture is not ready for exhibition yet. When +Will had got through laughing at me, he went +to work—I found I could not stir the boat +alone—he went to work and got ready. +Stripped to the skin—he had on a new +suit, and was something of a dandy in those +days—stepped carefully overboard—and +landed in water three inches deep."</p> + +<p>"Merryweather, you are making this up!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I am not, my dear sir. There we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +stood, I up to my chin, he with his toes under +water, and laughed till we were so weak that +we had to go ashore and sit down before we +had strength to push that boat off. There is +my Roland for your Oliver, Colonel. And +now, Miranda, I think we are ready for your +game. Come down, boys!"</p> + +<p>The boys came scrambling down, still +laughing over the stories, and soon all were +seated on the carpet of dry, fragrant pine-needles. +The girls had found some oak-leaves +("It is my belief," said Mr. Merryweather, +"that if Bell went to a picnic in a coal-mine +or on a sand-bank, she would still manage +to find oak-leaves somewhere!"), and were +busily twining garlands for the heads of the +company.</p> + +<p>"Are we all ready?" asked Mrs. Merryweather. +"Well! my game—a very simple +one—is called <i>Vocabulary</i>. It came from +my reading the other day an admirable little +book written by a wise professor, in which he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +deplores the poverty of our vocabularies, and +makes a suggestion for our enlarging them. +He advises us to add two or three words to +our list every week. The first time we use a +new word, he says, it will be embarrassing to +us and, it may be, amusing to our hearers; +but if we have courage and patience, we shall +be doing a good work not only for ourselves, +but for all our generation and the generations +that are to come. Well, this naturally +appealed to me, and I was thinking of proposing +it to you all this evening; and then, +as we were driving over, it occurred to me +that it might be made into a rather amusing +game."</p> + +<p>"Miranda," said her husband, "is there +anything in life that you do <i>not</i> think can be +made into a rather amusing game? But go +on!"</p> + +<p>"Dear Mammy!" said Phil. "Do you remember +when you and I both had the toothache, +and you thought it might be amusing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +to count the jumps and see how many there +were in a minute?"</p> + +<p>"Well, so it would have been," said his +mother, "if we had only had a little more +fortitude. Now if you are all going to laugh +at me, you shall not learn the game."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we will be good!" exclaimed the +Merryweathers. "We truly will."</p> + +<p>"The game of <i>Vocabulary</i>," said Mrs. Merryweather, +"is played thus. One—I, for example—begins +to tell a story. I say, 'I went +out to walk this morning, and I met—' there +I stop short, and you, in turn, give a verb +synonymous, more or less, with 'met.' This +goes around the circle till some one cannot find +a verb, and that some one must continue the +story, stopping at any word he likes. I fear +this is not very clear; perhaps we can illustrate +it best playing it. I will begin as I +suggested. I went out to walk this morning, +and on my way I met—" she stopped.</p> + +<p>"Encountered!" said Mr. Merryweather.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Approached!" said the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"Ran up against!" said Gerald.</p> + +<p>"Fell afoul of!" said Phil.</p> + +<p>"Fell in with!" said Bell.</p> + +<p>"Peggy, you come next."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I can't!" cried poor Peggy. "They +have said everything; Mrs. Merryweather, I +can't <i>ever</i> play anything of this kind, you +know. I am too stupid."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, my child; you are not in the +least stupid. If you cannot think of a word, +go on with the story."</p> + +<p>"But I don't know how!" cried Peggy, +her eyes growing large and round, with a look +that Gertrude and Margaret knew only too +well. The tears were not far behind those +round blue eyes; and Margaret hastened to +the rescue. "You met a man, dear!" she +whispered. "That is all you need say."</p> + +<p>"Well—I met a man!" said Peggy, with +a gasp.</p> + +<p>"Person!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Individual!"</p> + +<p>"Anthropoid ape!"</p> + +<p>"Masculine mortal!"</p> + +<p>"Chump!"</p> + +<p>"I object to the definition!" said Mrs. +Merryweather. "In case of a false definition, +the falsifier takes up the thread. Go +on, Jerry."</p> + +<p>"This man (he <i>was</i> a chump, you'll see!) +was so ugly that not a crow dared to stay +in the same county with him, and so disagreeable +that it gave one spasms to look at +him; also, he had not the manners to take +off his hat—" he stopped short.</p> + +<p>"Cap!"</p> + +<p>"Hood!"</p> + +<p>"Helmet!"</p> + +<p>"Bonnet!"</p> + +<p>"Head-dress!"</p> + +<p>"Tam-o'-shanter!"</p> + +<p>"Mitre!"</p> + +<p>"Tiara!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Fez!"</p> + +<p>"Turban!"</p> + +<p>"Beretta!"</p> + +<p>"I give in!" cried the Colonel. "I cannot +think of another thing, so I continue the +tale.</p> + +<p>"This odious person, after passing me in +the unmannerly fashion described, was about +to proceed further; but I, seizing him by the +coat collar, lifted my stout stick, and gave +him a good sound—"</p> + +<p>"Thrashing!"</p> + +<p>"Licking!"</p> + +<p>"Beating!"</p> + +<p>"Chastisement!"</p> + +<p>"Hiding!"</p> + +<p>"Walloping!"</p> + +<p>"Whipping!"</p> + +<p>"Scourging!"</p> + +<p>"Drubbing!"</p> + +<p>"Trouncing!"</p> + +<p>"Thwacking!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Lashing!"</p> + +<p>"Flogging!"</p> + +<p>"Caning!"</p> + +<p>"Larruping!"</p> + +<p>"Fustigating!"</p> + +<p>"Basting!"</p> + +<p>"Leathering!"</p> + +<p>"Thumping!"</p> + +<p>"Whopping!"</p> + +<p>"Rib-roasting!"</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" cried Mrs. Merryweather. +"This is rather terrible, I think. There +seem to be more terms to express personal +violence than anything else."</p> + +<p>"We haven't begun to give them all, +either!" said Phil. "If we are allowed to +use modern slang—I know you prefer ancient, +Mammy—"</p> + +<p>"I know you are a saucy boy!" said his +mother.</p> + +<p>"My dear friends," said the Chief, rising. +"This is all very fine: but the simple fact is,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +it is beginning to rain, and I think it advisable +for us to beat, fustigate, (where <i>did</i> you +get that, Miranda?) or wallop, a retreat!"</p> + +<p>Then there was scrambling up, and running +to and fro, and gathering up of baskets and +shawls. The good old horse, which had been +grazing peacefully in a clearing hard by, was +harnessed, and Mr. and Mrs. Merryweather, +Colonel Ferrers, and the <i>impedimenta</i> bundled +in and off as hastily as might be. Finally, as +the rain began to pour down in good earnest, +the younger campers gathered into a solid +phalanx and walked home across the fields, +singing in chorus, and informing all whom +it might concern that they were</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Marching along,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Fifty score strong,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song!"</span><br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>KITTY AND WILLY</h3> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Ma!</span>" said Willy Merryweather.</p> + +<p>"Baa!" replied his mother, without looking +up from her writing.</p> + +<p>Willy fidgeted, and looked over his +shoulder. "Mammy, I wish you would +speak to Kitty."</p> + +<p>"Speak to Kitty? certainly. How do you +do, Kitty?"</p> + +<p>Willy looked uncomfortable, but went on.</p> + +<p>"I spoke for the Rangeley boat, and now +she wants it. She always wants it, and it +isn't fair."</p> + +<p>"I don't always want it, Willy! I haven't +been in it for two days. I think you are +very unkind."</p> + +<p>By this time Mrs. Merryweather had finished<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +her sentence; she looked up, and surveyed +the two children with a half-abstracted +gaze.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" she asked, abruptly. "I +thought Kitty and Willy were here."</p> + +<p>Kitty took hold of the hem of her apron, +and Willy felt of the knife in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" repeated Mrs. Merryweather +in a tone of wonder. "You should +always answer a question, you know."</p> + +<p>"We are Kitty and Willy ourselves!" +murmured the children, the red beginning to +creep around their ears.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Mrs. Merryweather, reprovingly. +"Don't say such things as that, my +dears. I know Kitty and Willy perfectly +well; they are brother and sister, two cheerful, +affectionate children, who love each other. +I don't know anything about you two; run +away, please, for I am busy."</p> + +<p>As the children moved slowly away, she +called after them: "If you should see Kitty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +and Willy, you might send them to me, if you +please!"</p> + +<p>Round on the other side of the big oak-tree, +sheltered from the eyes that looked so +abstractedly over their glasses, Willy rubbed +his shoulders uncomfortably against the bark, +while Kitty kicked a bit of stick to and fro.</p> + +<p>"There isn't any use in talking to Mammy +when she does that way!" said Willy, half +to himself, but with a side glance at Kitty. +"If she would have only listened to me—"</p> + +<p>"She never will!" said Kitty, responding +to the half glance. "She always says there +is no need of quarrelling, and she doesn't see +why she should have to hear disagreeable +remarks."</p> + +<p>"Other children scrap," said Willy. "I +don't see why we can't now and then."</p> + +<p>"Well, she just won't have it, Will, so +where's the use? Never mind about the +Rangeley; you may have it, and I'll take +the <i>Wobbler</i>."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't care!" said Willy. "You may +have her."</p> + +<p>"So may you!"</p> + +<p>Silence. Willy rubbing his shoulders, Kitty +kicking her bit of stick.</p> + +<p>Presently Kitty looked up brightly, and +shook her curls back. "I've got over mine, +Willy!" she announced. "Are you getting +over yours?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-es!" said Willy, slowly. "I—s'pose +I am."</p> + +<p>"Why don't we go together?" asked Kitty. +"Then we can both have the Rangeley."</p> + +<p>"All right!" said Willy, brightening at +once. "Where shall we go? We might +play Pirate a bit—"</p> + +<p>"And then go for the milk! That would +be great!"</p> + +<p>"All right, come on, Kit."</p> + +<p>"Oh! but, Willy—"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"We must go <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'and and'">and</ins> tell Mammy first."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>Once more the two children presented +themselves before their mother, who was still +writing busily. At the first "Mammy!" she +looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>"Well, dears!" she said, "I was wondering +where you were. What are you going +to play this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"We thought perhaps we might have the +Rangeley together, and play Pirate!" said +Willy.</p> + +<p>"And then go for the milk!" said Kitty.</p> + +<p>"To be sure!" said Mrs. Merryweather. +"Yes, Papa said you might have the boat if +you wanted it. That will be very nice, only +be careful, dears. Give Mammy a kiss, and +have a great good time."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Run her up!" said the Pirate Captain.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, sir!" replied the mate.</p> + +<p>The Jolly Roger fluttered up to the mast-head: +skull and crossbones black as ink could +make them, ground very nearly white; it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +a splendid flag. The Captain was a terrible +figure, clad in yellow oilskins many sizes too +big for him, with ferocious mustaches curling +up to his eyes. His belt contained a perfect +armory of weapons; item, a pistol that +had lost its barrel; item, three wooden daggers, +assorted sizes; item, one tomahawk, +home-made. The mate was scarcely less terrifying, +for though a blue petticoat showed +beneath his oilskin jacket, and curls flowed +from under his sou'wester, he made up for it +by a mass of oakum beard and whisker that +was truly awe-inspiring. Also, he had the +truncheon which used to be a curling stick, +and a deadly weapon of singular appearance +which was understood to be a boomerang.</p> + +<p>"Look out, Bill! avast there! dost see any +foes about?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, sir! I see a craft on the jib +boom—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Lee bow</i>, Kitty!—I mean Bill; not jib +boom! You are always saying that."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/gs03.jpg" width="500" height="376" alt=""''TIS NOT A PLATE SHIP!'"" title=""''TIS NOT A PLATE SHIP!'"" /> +<span class="caption">"''TIS NOT A PLATE SHIP!'"</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I meant lee bow!" said Bill, anxious to +please. "Anyhow, I see a craft, your Honor. +I think she is a plate ship from the Spanish +Main. Shall we run her down?"</p> + +<p>"Give me the glass!" exclaimed the Pirate +Captain: and through that instrument, which +the ignorant might have mistaken for a battered +tin horn, he scrutinized the "craft," +which lay on the water at some distance.</p> + +<p>"'Tis not a plate ship!" he announced at +length. "I think we have had enough plate +ships lately. This is a Dutch lugger from +Samarcand, laden with raisins and fig-paste +and lichi nuts and cream dates. I shouldn't +wonder if she had narghiles too, and scimitars,—I +need a new scimitar,—and all sorts +of things. Up helm, and crowd on all sail in +pursuit!"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, sir! stunsels?"</p> + +<p>"Stunsels, balloon-jibs, topgallant spinnakers, +royal skyscrapers, everything you can +think of. Ha! we are off! Row hard now,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +Bill! The lubbers are asleep, and we shall +run them down easily. Are the cutlasses +ready?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Ho! we are gaining on them. Ho, ho! +bend to your oars, my hearties! grappling-chains +ready there! ho! on to the chase!"</p> + +<p>Now Phil was very busy making a fly for +lake trout, and explaining the manufacture +of it to Peggy; and Peggy was absorbed in +watching him, and in counting the number of +separate aches she felt after her first lesson +in rowing. Moreover, the bloody pirates +had conducted their conversation in a half-whisper, +and the wind was the other way. +But suddenly, Peggy looked up and saw +them, now at only a few yards distance.</p> + +<p>"Good gracious!" she cried. "What is +it? Do look, Phil!"</p> + +<p>Phil looked hastily around; chuckled, and +fell into an attitude of abject terror. +"Mercy! mercy!" he cried; cowering down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +in his seat. ("It's the kids; please be frightened!) +Oh! what will become of us? We +are lost!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! save me, spare me!" cried Peggy, +following suit, and clasping her hands in +supplication.</p> + +<p>The pirate bark ran alongside, and grappling- +irons were tossed aboard the ill-fated +merchantman. The Pirate Captain, standing +in the stern of his vessel, surveyed them with +baleful looks.</p> + +<p>"What ship is this?"</p> + +<p>"The <i>Weeping Woodchuck</i>, Captain Zebedee +Moses of Squedunk, please your Honor's +Worship!"</p> + +<p>"Well I am Captain England, and this is +the <i>Gory Griffin</i>. If you have a cargo of +raisins and fig-paste and cream dates, hand +them over; otherwise, prepare to walk the +plank this instant!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, spare us! spare this tender maiden!" +cried Phil. "I have no fig-paste, but wouldn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +fresh doughnuts do as well, O man of blood? +Life is sweet—and fish is needed for supper!"</p> + +<p>At these remarks the pirate's ferocious +scowl relaxed somewhat. "Hand over your +doughnuts!" he said, briefly. "This once I +spare ye, but cross not my path again! I +jolly well forgot about tea," he added, as +Phil tossed him some doughnuts; "I suppose +it must be about time to go for the milk, +perhaps, is it?"</p> + +<p>Phil looked at his watch. "Well, I should +say it jolly well was!" he replied. "You'd +better be off, young ones—I mean Scourges +of the Deep!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was quite a pull over to the point where +the milk-cans were waiting, but Kitty and +Willy were both good oars, and the doughnuts +were crisp and fortifying.</p> + +<p>"Let's take the point by storm!" suggested +the gallant England, who had not +had his fill of glory. "The cans might be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +treasure, you know, and we can creep up +silently."</p> + +<p>"But there's no one to hear us be silent!" +said Kitty.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's nothing! We can hear ourselves, +and, anyhow, it is good practice. +Come on, now! Be silent as the grave!" +Leaving the boat on the shore, they crept up +the beach, pounced on the milk-can,—a tall +"separator" which held the whole provision +for the family supper and breakfast,—and +bore it in triumph to the boat. But, alas! +for the gallant pirates! In getting aboard, +one of them slipped; the other stumbled; +between the two, neither could tell just how, +the tall can toppled, and fell into the boat; +the stopper flew out—"Then all the mighty +floods were out!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"But where <i>can</i> the children be?" asked +Mrs. Merryweather, for the tenth time.</p> + +<p>The horn had blown for supper, the fish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +were fried, the campers were hungry and +thirsty; and the milk had not come.</p> + +<p>"Where <i>can</i> they be?" said every one.</p> + +<p>Mr. Merryweather put down the glass +with which he had been sweeping the lake. +"They are out there!" he said. "I see +them, but they don't seem to be rowing. +Give me the megaphone, will you, Jerry? +Thanks!"</p> + +<p>A calm roar went out across the lake. +"Come—in—to—tea!"</p> + +<p>A faint pipe was heard in reply. "Don't—want—any—tea!"</p> + +<p>The second roar was still calm, but peremptory. +"<i>Come—in!</i>"</p> + +<p>Slowly, very slowly, the oars rose and fell, +and the boat crept over the water. What +could be the matter with the children?</p> + +<p>"Too much bloodshed has upset the gallant +England!" said Phil. "When it comes to +Willy's not wanting his tea!"</p> + +<p>"They have had some accident!" said Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +Merryweather. "Broken an oar, probably, +or lost a rowlock. No. They are both rowing. +Well, here they come."</p> + +<p>The whole family started for the wharf, +but a piteous wail arose from the now approaching +boat.</p> + +<p>"Please don't everybody come down! we +want just Papa and Mamma."</p> + +<p>"Stay here, dear people, please!" said +Mrs. Merryweather; and both parents hurried +down to the wharf, toward which two +dejected little figures were now tugging a +very heavy boat.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Will?" said Mr. +Merryweather. "Speak up, son."</p> + +<p>"We—spilt the milk!" said Willy, in a +carefully measured tone.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dears! all of it?" inquired their +mother.</p> + +<p>"Every drop!" said Willy, grimly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mammy, we are so sorry!" cried +Kitty. "The old can—just—upset! and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +we are so wet, and it keeps splashing all over +my legs!"</p> + +<p>"There! there! come ashore; never mind +about the milk!" said Mr. Merryweather.</p> + +<p>"Never mind!" echoed Mrs. Merryweather, +heartily. "My poor chicks, where have you +been all this time? Why didn't you come +straight home?"</p> + +<p>"We were—afraid!" sobbed Kitty. "We +have been rowing around for ever and ever so +long, and we are so tired, and hungry, and—wet—"</p> + +<p>But by this time Kitty was near enough +for her father to bend down and lift her +bodily out of the boat, and put her, all dripping +milk as she was, into her mother's arms. +On her mother's shoulder she sobbed out the +rest of the pitiful little story. Kitty was +twelve, and not specially small of her age; +but she was the baby, and Mrs. Merryweather +sat down on the wharf and rocked to and fro, +hushing her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There! there!" she said, soothingly. +"My lamb! as if all the milk in the world +were worth your crying about! and crying +into the spilt milk, too, and making the boat +all the wetter! Hush! hush! Run along, +Papa and Willy—dear little boy, it really is +only funny, so don't fret, not one little scrap. +Kitty and I will come in about two minutes."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>A DISCUSSION</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> morning reading was over, but the +girls lingered in the pine parlor, where the +whole family had been gathered to hear some +thrilling chapters of Parkman. Margaret and +Bell had their sewing, Gertrude her drawing-board; +Peggy was carving the handle of a +walking-stick, while Kitty struggled with +some refractory knitting-needles.</p> + +<p>It was a pleasant place in which they were +sitting: a little clear space of pine-needles, +embroidered here and there with tiny ferns, +and shut in by walls of dusky pine, soft and +fragrant. The tree-trunks made excellent +(though sometimes rather sticky) chair-backs; +the sunshine filtered in through the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +branches overhead, making a golden half-light +which was the very essence of restfulness.</p> + +<p>"Oh, pleasant place!" said Margaret, +breaking the silence that had followed the +departure of the rest of the family. "How +strange it seems, sitting here in this green +peace and quiet, to read of all those terrible +happenings. How can it be the same world?"</p> + +<p>"He was a man, that La Salle!" exclaimed +Peggy. "I never heard of such a man. +Think of that winter voyage! Think of that +man, brought up in luxury, with every kind +of accomplishment, and that kind of thing, +wading in snow-water up to his knees, and +sleeping on the frozen ground, rolled in his +blanket, while his clothes dried and froze +stiff on the trees! think of him standing +alone against courts and savages, and winning +every time—till he was killed by +those wretches. It is the greatest story I +ever read. Now, if all history were like this, +Margaret, I never should complain."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't you like history, Peggy?" asked +Bell, looking up in wonder.</p> + +<p>"I used to detest it," said Peggy, laughing. +"Julius Cæsar, and William the Conqueror, +and all those people used to bore me dreadfully, +though Margaret did her very best to +make them interesting; didn't you, you +dear?"</p> + +<p>"I tried, Peggy," said Margaret, with a +smile; "but you never would admit that +they were real people, just as real as if they +were alive to-day."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, of course I know they were +alive once, but so were mummies, and you +can't expect me to be interested in <i>them</i>. +However, I think I really am improving. +'Hereward' brought William alive for me, +it truly did; and this Parkman book delights +me. Oh! I should like to have made that +voyage down the Mississippi, girls! I think, +on the whole, I would rather be Cavalier de +La Salle than any one I ever heard of."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"In spite of all the suffering and tragedy?" +said Gertrude. "I could not say that, much +as I admire him."</p> + +<p>"Who would you be, if you could choose? +Let us all say!" cried Bell. "A new game! +two minutes for reflection!" and she took out +her watch with a business-like air.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Gertrude. "But there are so +many!"</p> + +<p>"Silence!" said Bell; and there was an +instant of absolute stillness. Taking advantage +of it, a chipmunk ran across the brown +carpet, and pausing midway, sat up on his +haunches and surveyed the new and singular +mountain ranges that had risen on his horizon. +One of the mountains stirred—whisk! he +was gone.</p> + +<p>"Time's up!" said Bell. "Margaret, I +will begin with you. With all history to +choose from, who will you be?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! must I be first?" cried Margaret. +"As Gertrude says, there are so many; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +yet when you come to think them over, there +is something against every one; I mean something +one would not like to do or to suffer. +But,—on the whole,—I <i>think</i> I would be +Elizabeth of Hungary."</p> + +<p>"Our Lady of the Roses? Well, she was +lovely, though I should be sorry to marry her +husband. The story would have been somewhat +different if I had; but I am not a saint. +Peggy, your turn!"</p> + +<p>"This man we are reading about!" said +Peggy, decidedly. "La Salle!"</p> + +<p>"Toots!"</p> + +<p>"Bell, you know I never <i>can</i> decide between +Shakespeare and Raphael. I have to +be both; they lived quite far enough apart for +separate incarnations."</p> + +<p>"Greedy, grasping girl!" said Bell. "Kitty, +who are you?"</p> + +<p>"Jim Hawkins!" said Kitty, promptly.</p> + +<p>"No fiction allowed this time, Missy, only +history!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, dear! well, then—Francis Drake!"</p> + +<p>"Bound to have a pirate, aren't you, +Kitty?" said Gertrude, mischievously.</p> + +<p>"He wasn't a pirate!" cried Kitty, indignantly. +"He was a great hero."</p> + +<p>"<i>L'un n'empêchait pas l'autre</i>, in those +days!" said Bell.</p> + +<p>"Well, now for yourself, Bell!" said Margaret. +"It is your turn."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I didn't need any two minutes," said +Bell. "I am always William the Silent. I +should be Beethoven if it were not for the +deafness, but that I could not have borne."</p> + +<p>"You all want to be men, don't you?" +observed Margaret, thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Why—yes, so we do! you are the only +one who chose a woman."</p> + +<p>"Everybody would be a man if they +could!" cried Peggy, throwing grammar to +the winds, as she was apt to do when +excited.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, everybody would not!" cried<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +Margaret, her soft eyes lighting up. "Nothing +would induce me to be a man."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you would make a very +good one, to be sure!" said Peggy, looking +affectionately at her cousin. "But I bet—I +mean wager—you told me I might say +'wager,' Margaret!—that none of the other +girls would hesitate a minute if they had the +chance. I wouldn't! Think of it! No petticoats, +no fuss, no having to remember to do +this, and not to do that; and no hairpins, or +gloves, or best hats—"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Bell; "that is only the smallest +part, Peggy. I don't mind the hairpin +part—though of course it is a joy to get out +here and dispense with them—but still, that +is only a trifle. The thing I think about is +the freedom, the strength, the power to go +right ahead and <i>do</i> things!" and, as she +spoke, Bell threw her head back and stretched +her arms abroad with a vigorous gesture. +"Of course we girls are all well and strong,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +but it isn't the same strength as a man's. +We are constantly running up against things +we cannot, ought not to do. I <i>do</i> envy the +boys, I cannot help it."</p> + +<p>"Yes!" cried Margaret, leaning forward, a +soft flush rising to her cheeks. "I know—it +is glorious to see them; but, Bell, isn't the +very weakness part of our strength? Isn't it +just because women <i>know</i> the—the things +they cannot do, that they are able to understand +and sympathize, and—and help, in +ways that men cannot, because they do not +know?"</p> + +<p>"I think Margaret is right!" said Gertrude, +slowly. "And besides, there is strength +and strength, Bell. For long endurance of +pain or hardship, the woman will outlast the +man nine times out of ten, I believe; and I +heard Doctor Strong say once that women +would often bear pain quietly that would set +a man raving. Yes, I come over to your side, +May Margaret. I would take Joan of Arc, if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +it were not for the stake. Let me see—oh, +I know! I will be Grace Darling."</p> + +<p>"Who was she?" asked Kitty.</p> + +<p>"The lighthouse-keeper's daughter, at Longstone, +off the Yorkshire coast. A ship, the +<i>Forfarshire</i>, was wrecked on the rocks near +by, and there seemed no chance of saving +any of the crew; but Grace persuaded her +father to try, and just those two rowed out, +in a most terrible storm, to the reef on which +the vessel had been wrecked, and saved the +nine men, all that were left out of sixty-three, +who were clinging to the rocks, waiting +for death. Why wasn't that just as fine as +commanding an army, or even leading a forlorn +hope in battle? Then there was dear +Margaret Roper—I think she is the one for +you, May Margaret!—and Cochrane's Bonny +Grizzy, and—oh, ever and ever so many of +them. Yes, I take up my stand once and for +all on my own side."</p> + +<p>"Well!" said Bell, shaking her head. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +hear what you say, Betsy, but it makes no +difference,—does it, Peggy?—though I admit +the force of your remarks."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit!" said Peggy. "I wouldn't +have been Mrs. La Salle for a farm."</p> + +<p>"There wasn't any!" said Margaret.</p> + +<p>"The principle remains the same," said +Peggy, "as Miss Russell used to say."</p> + +<p>"There is another thing!" said Margaret. +"Your life out here, Bell, shows me how +much girls <i>can</i> do; I mean in the active, +outdoor, athletic way. More than I ever +dreamed they could do. It really seems to +me that, except just for the petticoats, you +have very few drawbacks. I suppose it is +having all the brothers. Why, you know +as much as they do about the woods and +all."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's partly the boys," said Bell; "but +it is much more Papa. You see, from the +time we could walk, he has always taken us +out into the woods and fields, and made us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +use our eyes and ears, and talked to us about +things. We should not know anything, if it +were not for Papa."</p> + +<p>"He does seem to know almost everything!" +said Margaret. "I never saw any +one like him."</p> + +<p>"There <i>isn't</i> any one like him," said Gertrude, +decidedly. "What have you got there, +Margaret?"</p> + +<p>Margaret had drawn a letter from her +pocket, and was looking it over.</p> + +<p>"An argument on my side," she said, smiling. +"May I read it aloud?"</p> + +<p>"Do! do!" cried all the girls.</p> + +<p>Margaret smoothed out the crumpled pages +affectionately. "He carried it in his pocket +two days before he remembered to post it!" +she said. "I judge from the date, and the +appearance of the envelope. There was +candy in his pocket, and"—she sniffed +at the letter—"yes! tar, without doubt. +Now listen!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"'<span class="smcap">Dear Cousin Margaret</span>:—We miss +you awfully, and Uncle John says it is no +kind of a house without you, and it isn't. +We went a walk yesterday, Susan D. and me +and the dogs, because you know it was Sunday; +Uncle John was coming too, but he had +roomatizm and coud not. Well Cousin Margaret, +we walked over the big hill and just +then the dogs began howling and yelling in +the most awful manner, and running round +and round like they were crazy; and we ran +to see what was up, and we found out, I tell +you! It was white hornets, about ten thousand +of them, and the dogs had rolled in a +nest of them, and they were stinging their +noses, and they flew at us with perfeck fewry, +I mean the hornets did. I hollered and ran, +but Susan D. said wait she knew what to do, +so she said "Come on," and we ran down to +the brook and she took mud and put it on +my stings before she touched her own, and +it took a good deal of the pane out though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +not all. And then she put it on the dogs' +noses, and they understood like persons, and +poked them into the mud themselves and soon +forgot their pane. But I thought I would tell +you this Cousin Margaret, because Susan D. +did really behave like a perfeck brick, and +you always said girls were as brave as boys +but I never thought so before but now I do; +because I hollered right out when they stung +me which I am ashamed of. You said confession +was good for the sole, and so I think: +so now I will say good-by from</p> + +<div class='right'> +"'<span class="smcap">Basil</span>.'"<br /> +</div></div> + +<p>"What a dear boy!" cried Gertrude.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is!" said Margaret, the happy +tears springing to her eyes. "He is one of +the very dearest boys that ever lived, Gertrude; +so manly and honest, and so funny, +too. Gerald knows him!" she added, shyly. +"I wish he had been at home when you were +there, Peggy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes; he must be a brick!" said Peggy. +"Now, Margaret, you know he is, and you +know that nothing but 'brick' expresses +what I mean. Girls, I appeal to you. Margaret +wants me to talk like a professor all the +time, and I am not a professor, and am never +likely to be one. Bell, isn't 'brick' all +right?"</p> + +<p>Bell looked conscious. "I confess I say it, +Peggy; I confess it seems much heartier than +the same thing in what my mother calls good +English. Still—I believe it would sound very +queer to me if she used it; the mother, I +mean."</p> + +<p>"Grace used to say 'a quadrangular piece +of baked clay!'" said Gertrude. "Don't you +remember, Peggy?"</p> + +<p>"So she did—dear thing! Well, but, Bell, +would you have girls talk just the way +grown-up people do? It would sound awfully +stiff and poky. I don't mean that it sounds so +when your mother talks!" she cried; "of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +course you know I don't mean that. But +girls <i>aren't</i> grown-up, you know."</p> + +<p>"But they are going to be!" said Margaret. +"If they don't learn good English +now, how are they going to do it later? It +does seem to me a terrible pity, with all our +great, glorious language, to use so little of it, +and to use it so often wrong. You may think +me priggish and professorial, and anything else +you like, Peggy dear, but that is what I +think."</p> + +<p>"I love you to distraction," said Peggy; +"you are an angel, but I think you carry it +too far. What would you say instead of +'brick?' how would you describe this boy—who +simply <i>is</i> a brick?"</p> + +<p>Margaret reflected. "I should say he was +a nice, manly boy!" she said, presently.</p> + +<p>"Nice! now, Margaret! 'nice' is niminy, +you know it is, and piminy too."</p> + +<p>"The great advantage of 'brick,'" said Bell, +"is that it is one word, and 'nice manly boy'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +is three, and doesn't mean the same thing +then."</p> + +<p>"There!" cried Peggy, in triumph. "What +do you say to that, Margaret? Find one word +in your old 'good English' that does express +'brick?'"</p> + +<p>"Well—it isn't easy!" Margaret admitted. +"'Trump' is the only one I can think of, and +I suppose that was slang fifty years ago."</p> + +<p>"The mother says that when a word has +held its own for twenty years, it isn't slang +any more," said Gertrude. "The question +is—"</p> + +<p>At this moment the sound of a horn was +heard; a long, ringing blast, followed by a +second and a third.</p> + +<p>The girls sprang to their feet. "Hurrah for +a swim!" cried Bell. "Come, bricks and +trumps—I'll race you all to the tents!" +And off they went with a flash of petticoats, +leaving the chipmunk to speculate on the +sudden upheavals of nature.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>WATER PLAY</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> floating wharf, as has been said, lay +at the end of a long, narrow slip that ran out +on piers over the water. Down the slip, one +by one, now came the Merryweathers and +their guests, in bathing array, the boys shouting +and skylarking,—the girls singing and +tossing their long hair about. Jack and Phil +brought out a long spring-board, and set it +up at the end of the wharf; and then the fun +began. Mr. Merryweather was the first to +run along the board, and take a sober and +dignified dive. He was followed by Gerald, +turning handsprings, and carolling to the +effect that he was a pirate king, he was; +hurrah for the pirate king! Next came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +Jack, who turned a back somersault, ending +with a noble splash; and so, one by one, like +so many ducks, they dove and leaped and +tumbled in, and splashed and swam about +in the clear water. Peggy was with the rest, +splashing as merrily as any of them; but +Margaret sat on the wharf, in her pretty blue +bathing-dress, her feet tucked under her, +looking on.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/gs04.jpg" width="500" height="382" alt=""'COME ON! COME IN!'"" title=""'COME ON! COME IN!'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'COME ON! COME IN!'"</span> +</div> + +<p>"Come on, Margaret!" cried Peggy. +"Come on! come in! It's perfectly great!"</p> + +<p>"In a minute," said Margaret. "I like to +watch you a bit first; it takes me a little +while to get my courage up."</p> + +<p>"Come, oh, come with me!" sang Gerald, +emerging from the water, at her feet, and +clinging to the wharf, while he shook the +drops from his hair and eyes. "Come swim +with me and be my swan! Come where the +duckweed twineth! Come!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gerald, yes; in just a minute. Is +it very cold?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Cold? No; just right. Liquid crystal, +sparkling sapphire, perfection! Come, you +must have your swimming lesson. Forget +the cheerful swain,—behold the stern instructor!"</p> + +<p>He held out his hand with an imperative +gesture. Margaret laid hers in it +timidly.</p> + +<p>"Let me get near the rope!" she said, +rather nervously.</p> + +<p>"Here is the rope, close by your hand. +Now, then, hold fast! There we go!"</p> + +<p>With one hand on the rope, and the other +in Gerald's, Margaret slid into the water, +giving a little cry as it bubbled up about her. +"Gerald!"</p> + +<p>"Right here, my lady. There; both hands +on the rope now. Take it easy! Now you +are all right."</p> + +<p>"Ye'—yes, Gerald. Oh, isn't it glorious?"</p> + +<p>"Rather! It's really the element to live<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +in, you see. A mistake was made somewhere. +If I had but gills, I should ask no +more of fate. As it is—"</p> + +<p>He dove, and came up on the other side +of the rope. "Don't you think I would be +charming with gills,—pretty little quivering, +rosy gills,—instead of side whiskers?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw you in side whiskers," said +Margaret, demurely, "so I cannot tell. You +certainly don't seem to need the gills, though. +How <i>do</i> you manage to keep under so long? +Yesterday, when you stayed down picking up +these pebbles, I was sure something had happened. +Really, Gerald, I was very much +frightened."</p> + +<p>"I ought to have been switched," said +Gerald. "I never thought of your noticing. +I say, come down with me, and I'll show you +the trick of it. It's just as easy!"</p> + +<p>"Not for worlds!" cried Margaret, clutching +the rope, as if she expected to be dragged +from it by force. "I never should come up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +alive. Oh, look, Gerald! what are they going +to do now?"</p> + +<p>"Going to dive over the elephants. Do +you mind—oh, here is the child, Toots. +Toots, will you stay here by Margaret, while +I take my place in the ring? You are sure +you are all right, Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; do go. I want to see it. Gertrude, +what <i>are</i> they doing?"</p> + +<p>"Look and see," said Gertrude. "Put your +arms on the rope, and lift yourself higher. +That's right."</p> + +<p>Phil and Jack and Willy had placed themselves +side by side, on their hands and knees, +at the edge of the wharf, and were calling +loudly for Gerald. He stepped back to the +farther end of the float, then, running forward, +soared into the air, over the backs of +the "elephants," and came down straight +as an arrow into the water; then, scrambling +out, took his place in the row, while Phil +performed the same manœuvre. Over and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +over and over they went, running, rising, +plunging, rising again. Margaret grew dizzy +watching them. Now Mr. Merryweather advanced, +holding a rubber hoop, which was +neither more nor less than the discarded tire +of a bicycle. This he and Gerald held out at +arm's length, and the other boys dove through +it, amid the applause of the girls.</p> + +<p>"Oh, pretty!" cried Peggy. "Do you do +that, girls?"</p> + +<p>"Gertrude does; I haven't tried it yet," +said Bell, who was floating placidly, her arms +under her head, her face turned to the sky.</p> + +<p>"I am going to try," said Peggy. "May +I, Mr. Merryweather?"</p> + +<p>"By all means!" said the Chief, heartily. +"Take a good run—steady, Jerry. Hold it +out well—there! hurrah!"</p> + +<p>For Peggy had gone through the hoop like +a bird, and after a clean dive, was coming up +again, radiant and panting.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Peggy, how splendid!" cried Margaret,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +her eyes shining with pleasure and +pride in her Peggy's prowess. "Gertrude, +didn't she do it well? Such a pretty, graceful +thing to do."</p> + +<p>"<i>C'était une corquerre!</i>" said Gerald, +heartily. "<i>Elle est aussi une corquerre, la +Peggy.</i> You will be doing it soon yourself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never, never! You cannot seem to +understand, Gerald, that I am not <i>made</i> for +these things. I love to see them; I admire +them intensely, but I cannot so much as think +of trying."</p> + +<p>"<i>Point de stonte pour Marguerite?</i>" said +Gerald. "Alas the day! Because you really +would do them so corkingly, you know, if +only you should do them. Well, see here, I +am going to give you a troll. You will like +that, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"A troll? I thought they were mountain +goblins. I don't want one, thank you, sir! +water nixies and pixies are as much as I can +bear in the goblin line."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Verb, not substantive!" replied Gerald.</p> + +<p>"I troll, thou lettest thyself be trolled, +he, she, or it sees you being trolled and +wishes that he, she, or it had such luck. +Observe!"</p> + +<p>He climbed into one of the Rangeley boats +that lay near the float, loosed her moorings, +and, taking up the oars, brought her close to +the rope. "Now, Margaret, catch hold; here, +at the stern!"</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with me, Gerald? +I fear thee, ancient mariner, I fear thy +skinny hand!"</p> + +<p>"I hold you with my glittering eye, you +cannot choose but come. I am going to take +you off a-trolling. Hold on tight with your +hands, and let all the rest of you go, as if you +had nothing to do with it."</p> + +<p>He took a few strokes, slowly and easily. +Margaret, clinging to the stern, was drawn +along without effort or motion of her own. +Her long hair floated behind her; her white<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +arms gleamed like ivory through the clear +water; her face was alight with pleasure.</p> + +<p>"'Not wholly bad, Lysander Pratt?'" +quoted Gerald, interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gerald! it is almost too perfect! no, +you needn't stop, I only said <i>almost</i>. The +water feels like silk flowing by me: no, silk +is rough beside it; it feels like—like—"</p> + +<p>"Like water, possibly?" said Gerald; +"stranger things have been."</p> + +<p>"Well, there isn't anything else like it, is +there? Oh! are you sure you will not take +cold or anything, Gerald? I could go on forever, +floating here—trolling, I mean."</p> + +<p>"Nothing easier," said Gerald, pulling on +with long, steady strokes. "We will just +keep on; I ask nothing better. Years passed. +A form was seen, gray and bent with age, +feebly tugging at a pair of oars. Trailing +behind the crazy boat, another figure might +be distinguished—I forbear further description, +Margaret: I may grow old, but not you;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +please stay as you are always. Anyhow, the +people will flock to the shore. Ha! the Muse! +the afflatus descends.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"The people thronged the rocky shore,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And viewed that graybeard old and hoar;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">'Oh! why thus dodderest at the oar,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Unhappy soul?'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">The answer came: 'Forever more</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">She wished to troll!'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Gerald, I think we'd better go back +now."</p> + +<p>"Wait! she hasn't finished. Never interrupt +a Muse! it isn't the thing to do.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"And still along that rocky coast,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">A gibbering yet a gallant ghost,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">He dodders, dodders at his post,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Nor nears the goal;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For she, the spook he cares for most,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Still loves to troll."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Gerald, take me back, please! see, we are +ever so far from shore, and it is time for me +to go in, I am sure."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Just look down, Margaret! see the bottom, +all white sand; isn't that pleasant? Hi! +there's a bream watching his nest. See him +fanning about over it, never leaving the place. +He'll keep that up for hours at a time. +Domestic party, the bream! this is an excellent +opportunity to study the habits of—"</p> + +<p>"Gerald, I am cold!"</p> + +<p>"We'll be there in two minutes!" said +Gerald, settling to his oars. "Hold tight, +now, Margaret! troll as the wolves of Apennine +were all upon your track!" and with +long, powerful strokes he sent the boat flying +through the water, while Margaret fairly +shrieked with delight and excitement.</p> + +<p>Her face had been turned away from the +float; but now she was speeding toward it, +and looked eagerly to see what the others of +the party were doing. To her great amazement, +no one was in sight. The wharf lay +wet and glistening in the sunshine, but no +blue-clad figures leaped and pranced across it,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +no merry faces emerged from the blue, sparkling +water. All was silent and solitary.</p> + +<p>"Why, Gerald," cried Margaret, "where +are they all? have they gone in? Surely I +heard their voices just a moment ago, and a +great splash: where can they be?"</p> + +<p>"A stunt!" replied Gerald. "For our +benefit, I presume, but I scorn their levity. +I advise you to take no notice of their childish +pranks. I myself was young, once upon a +time, but what then?"</p> + +<p>They were now at the float, and Margaret +looked about her, in utter amazement. All +was silent; not a voice, not a whisper; no +soul was in sight. It was as if she and Gerald +were alone in the world. She stepped out on +the float: at the instant, up from under her +feet rose a sound as if the biggest giant that +ever swung a club were sneezing. "A—<i>tchoo!</i>"</p> + +<p>Margaret screamed outright. "Gerald! +what is it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come out from there!" cried Gerald. +"They are under the float, imbeciles that they +are. The Pater has gone ashore, and the +others manifest their nature, that is all. +Come out, Apes of the Apennines! or +I'll—"</p> + +<p>The threat remained unfinished, for the +Merryweathers came out. Swarming up from +under the float, where they had been treading +water at their ease, with plenty of breathing-space, +they flung themselves with one accord +upon Gerald's boat, capsized it, and dragged +him into the water. A great splashing contest +ensued, with much shouting and merriment, +and they were still hard at it when "All in!" +sounded from the boat-house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE MAIL</h3> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Still</span> raining, Phil?" asked Mrs. Merryweather, +looking up from her writing.</p> + +<p>"Still, honored parent! or rather, to be +exact, anything but still. Up on the hill, the +wind is fierce. I had to ride round the blast +once or twice, instead of going through it. +Solid old wind, that!"</p> + +<p>He threw off his dripping oilskin jacket, +and came in, unslinging the letter-bag from +his shoulder as he came.</p> + +<p>"Letters! letters!" he cried. "Who wants +letters?"</p> + +<p>Every one gathered around him, holding +out eager hands.</p> + +<p>"One for me, Phil!"</p> + +<p>"For me, Protector of the Poor!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh! please, Phil! I want three at least."</p> + +<p>"If there is none for me, Fergy my boy, I +shudder at the consequences for you!"</p> + +<p>Phil distributed letters and papers; the +family subsided on chairs and benches with +their treasures, and for some minutes nothing +was heard but the rustle of paper and the +steady downpour of the rain.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Peggy, presently. "Oh—eee! +splendid!"</p> + +<p>"Sapolio!" exclaimed Gerald; and "Well! +well!" said Mrs. Merryweather.</p> + +<p>The three exclamations were simultaneous, +and Bell, who had no letters, raised her hand +with an imperative gesture. "Exclamation +must be followed by explanation!" she said. +"Law of the Medes and Persians. We shall +be glad to hear from the exclaimers."</p> + +<p>"Who? me? did I?" asked Peggy, looking +up with sparkling eyes. "Semiramis has +eight puppies. Think of it! eight whole +puppies!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I never buy more than half a puppy at a +time," said Gerald, "unless it is for a veal +and ham pie."</p> + +<p>"Gerald!"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's a fact, Mater; I never do. +What kind of puppies, thou of Limavaddy?"</p> + +<p>"Gordon setters, black and tan: oh, she +says they are perfect beauties. She says—this +is Jean, you know, my sister—'they are +all like Semmy except one, and he is <i>blue</i>.' +Who ever heard of a blue puppy? You shall +have one, Snowy: I promised you one, don't +you remember? oh—eee! and the new colt +is a perfect beauty too, and they have named +her Peggy. Oh!"</p> + +<p>Peggy looked down at her letter, then +looked up again shyly. "I—don't suppose +you would care to hear any of it?" she said, +interrogatively.</p> + +<p>"Indeed we should!" said Mrs. Merryweather, +heartily. "We should like it extremely, +Peggy. A letter from the Far<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +West; why, it will be a journey for all +of us."</p> + +<p>"Great!" said Phil.</p> + +<p>"Corking!" said Gerald. And one and all, +in their several ways, expressed their desire to +hear the letter.</p> + +<p>Dimpling with pleasure, her rosy face beaming, +Peggy began to read.</p> + +<p>"'Dear old'—oh, well, I won't read just +the beginning, because it is just the way we +talk to each other, you know. I wish you +knew Jean, Snowy. Let me see! oh, yes, +here it is.</p> + +<p>"'This is eight birthdays all at once, for +what do you think, Peggy? this morning we +missed Semmy at breakfast, and could not +find her anywhere. There were kidneys, and +you know she always finishes the dish off, because +she is so fond of them. Well, and so I +went to look for her, and she wasn't in her +box, or in the shed, or behind the kitchen +stove, or anywhere where she usually is. So<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +I went out to the stable, and there I heard +little squeaks and squeals, the funniest you +ever heard, and then a growl in Semmy's +voice as I opened the door. Then the dear +thing heard my step, and was ashamed of +growling, and began thumping her tail on the +floor till I should have thought she would +break it. And there she was, all cuddled +down in a pile of hay, and the dear little +darling things all cuddled round her. I +never saw anything so perfectly dear! they +were all blind, and bald all over, and pink, +and squealing like anything; you never <i>did</i> +see anything so lovely in all your life, at least +I never did. Well, she let me take them up, +one by one, old darling, though I could see +that it made her nervous. Most of them are +like her, beautifully marked, with pink noses, +and black ears, and just the right blackness +and tanness on them; but one is very queer, +great splotches of black on his nose and his +hind quarters, and all the rest of him white.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +So they named him "Magpie," right off; but +I haven't come to the names yet. He is not +very pretty, but he looks <i>very</i> bright, and I +shouldn't wonder if he was terribly clever, to +make up for not being so handsome as the +others. And the other different one is a perfect +beauty, though you may not think so +when I tell you that he is <i>blue</i>. Yes, truly +blue; of course I don't mean sky blue, nor +navy, but the black is all mixed in through +the white,—I can't explain to you just how +it is—but anyhow, at a little distance, he +does truly and honestly look blue. Well, so—I +was the first to find them, so Father +said I might name them, but of course I +wanted us all to do it together; so we all +thought, and each made a list. Oh, Peggy, +we did want you; and I wanted to wait till +you could send your list too, but the others +thought you would not mind, and it is nicer +to have them named quickly, because then +their names seem to belong to them more,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +and they look like them. Perhaps, I mean, +if you had been called something else till you +were two or three years old, you might not +have been so just exactly Peggy as you are, +you dear old thing.'</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I ought not to have read that," +said Peggy, looking up with a blush; "but it +is as like Jean as I am like Peggy, if I am +like it, whatever it is."</p> + +<p>"You certainly are like 'it,'" said Gertrude, +laughing, "and 'it' certainly is a dear old +thing. Go on, please. We are all longing +to hear the list."</p> + +<p>Peggy threw her a kiss, and went on.</p> + +<p>"'I will not give you all the lists, for that +would take up all the rest of my letter; but +here is the one we finally made out. There +are three females, and five males, you know: +<i>Cleopatra</i>, <i>Meg</i> (Merrilies; that was Flora's, +because she is just reading "Guy Mannering"), +<i>Diana</i>, <i>Guy</i> (for the same reason), +<i>Shot</i>, <i>Hector</i>, <i>Ajax</i>, and <i>Magpie</i>.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I do think that is a queer list," +Peggy concluded, folding up the letter. "I +wish they had called one 'Gray Brother,' or +'Bagheera.'"</p> + +<p>"But they are not wolves or panthers," +objected Mr. Merryweather. "I should say +that was a very fair list of names, Peggy, as +names go. It is always hard to find a good +name for a dog. 'Shot' is an excellent +name. We had a good old dog named Shot, +and I have always liked the name."</p> + +<p>"Mammy," said Bell, "are we not to hear +something from you?"</p> + +<p>"From me, my dear?" repeated Mrs. +Merryweather. "What would you like to +hear?"</p> + +<p>"I should think you were an amiable +gramophone," replied her daughter, with +affectionate disrespect. "And I <i>think</i> you +really know what I mean, madam, in spite +of that innocent look. On reading your +letters, you and Jerry exclaimed: 'Well,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +well!' and 'Sapolio!' at the same instant, +and your letters are on the same kind of +paper, I cannot help seeing that. Have you +something to break to us? 'Sapolio' is a +baleful utterance, delivered as Jerry delivered +it just now."</p> + +<p>"Gee! I should think it was!" muttered +Gerald, gloomily. He had brightened up +while Peggy was reading her letter, but now +his usually bright face was clouded with +unmistakable vexation.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Mrs. Merryweather, with what +seemed a rather elaborately cheerful expression. +"My letter? It is from Cousin Anna +Belleville. She tells me that Claud has been +with her at Bar Harbor for some time, and +that he is coming to visit us on his way back. +He will be here some day next week, she +thinks."</p> + +<p>A certain pensiveness stole over the aspect +of the Merryweathers. Bell and Gertrude +exchanged a swift glance, but said nothing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +Gerald whistled, "Wrap me up in my tarpaulin +jacket!"</p> + +<p>After a brief silence, Mr. Merryweather said, +thoughtfully, "I was thinking of taking the +boys off on a camping trip next week."</p> + +<p>"You cannot, Miles," said his wife, quickly. +"It is out of the question."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," said Mr. Merryweather. +"I only—a—quite so!"</p> + +<p>He relapsed into inarticulate murmurs over +his pipe. Mrs. Merryweather, after a reproachful +glance at him, turned to Gerald, as +she folded her letter. "You have a letter +from Claud, Gerald?" she asked, cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"I have, madam," said Gerald, with a brow +of thunder. "He informs me that he is +looking forward with the greatest pleasure +to roughing it a bit with us, and says that +we must make no preparations, but let him +take things just as they are. He's a Christian +soul, that's what he is."</p> + +<p>"What is to be the order of the evening?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +asked Mrs. Merryweather, addressing Bell +with a shade of warning in her voice. "Are +we to have games, or boat-building?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! boat-building! the regatta is to-morrow, +and we are not half ready."</p> + +<p>There was a general rush toward cupboards +and lockers, and in an incredibly short space +of time the whole room was a pleasant litter +of chips, shingles, and brown paper. The rules +for the regattas at Merryweather were few +and simple. All boats must be built by their +owners, unaided; no boat must be over a foot +long from stem to stern; all sails must be of +paper. Aside from these limitations, the +fancies of the campers might roam at will; +accordingly, the boats were of every shape and +description, from Kitty's shingle, ballasted +with pebbles, to Phil's elaborate catamaran. +Peggy was struggling with a stout and somewhat +"nubbly" piece of wood, which was +slowly shaping itself under the vigorous +strokes of her jack-knife.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She's coming on!" Peggy declared, cheerfully. +"She really begins to look quite like +a boat now, doesn't she, Mr. Merryweather?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly!" the Chief assented. "I don't +see why she should not make a very good +boat, Peggy. I would round off her stern a +bit, if I were you. So! that's better."</p> + +<p>"What is her name, Peggy?" inquired +Mrs. Merryweather. "I must be entering the +names in the Log."</p> + +<p>"The <i>Lovely Peggy</i>, of course!" said Phil. +"What else should it be?"</p> + +<p>"It might be the <i>Limavaddy!</i>" said Gerald.</p> + +<p>"Gerald, I <i>wish</i> you would tell me what +you mean by 'Limavaddy,'" said Peggy. "It +sounds like—I don't know what; tea-caddy, +or something like that. Mrs. Merryweather, +won't you tell me what it means?"</p> + +<p>"It is a compliment he is paying you, +Peggy," said her hostess, smiling. "Peg of +Limavaddy is the charming heroine of a charming +ballad of Thackeray's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'This I do declare,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Happy is the laddy</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Who the heart can share</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Of Peg of Limavaddy.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Married if she were,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Blest would be the daddy</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Of the children fair</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Of Peg of Limavaddy.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Beauty is not rare</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">In the land of Paddy,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Fair beyond compare</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Is Peg of Limavaddy.'</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>That is not one of the prettiest stanzas, but it +shows you why Gerald has nicknamed you."</div> + +<p>"I say with Captain Corcoran," Gerald +observed, pausing in the critical adjustment +of a sail:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Though I'm anything but clever,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I could talk like that forever.'</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>As thus!</div> + +<div class='poem'> +"When she makes the tea,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Brews it from a caddy,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Who so blithe as she,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Peg of Limavaddy?</span><br /> +<br /> +"See her o'er the stove,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Broiling of a haddie;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Thus she won my love,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Peg of Limavaddy.</span><br /> +<br /> +"But building of a boat,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Her success is shady;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Bet you she won't float,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Peg of <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Limavady'">Limavaddy</ins>!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Wait till to-morrow," cried Peggy, laughing, +"and you'll see whether she floats or not. +And anyhow, she is my first boat. Isn't +there a special class for beginners, Mr. Merryweather?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! no fear or favor shown; the rigor +of the game, little Peggy. Margaret, have +you given up?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, please, Mr. Merryweather!" said +Margaret, looking up from her knitting with +a smile. "I could not; it simply was not +possible. Gerald was positive at first that he +could teach me, but after one lesson he was +equally positive that he could not. I needed +no conviction, because I knew I could not."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nobody can do absolutely everything," +said Gerald, "except the Codger,—I allude +to my revered uncle, Margaret,—and I have +at times desired to drown him for that qualification. +You shall be the starter, Margaret; +you'll do that to perfection."</p> + +<p>"What are the duties of a starter?" asked +Margaret; "I shall be very glad to do anything +I really can."</p> + +<p>"To sit still and look pretty!" said Gerald, +demurely. "I <i>think</i> you can manage it."</p> + +<p>"Have I the full list?" asked Mrs. Merryweather. +"I'll read it aloud.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Principal Whale</i>,—Papa."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would not call my father +names!" murmured Gerald.</p> + +<p>"Jerry, do be still!</p> + +<p>"The <i>Tintinnabula</i>, Bell.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Jollycumpop</i>, Gertrude.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Come-at-a-Body</i>, Gerald.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Molasses Cooky</i>, Phil.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Polly Cologne</i>, Kitty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The <i>Whopper</i>, Willy."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"All but Peggy's," said Gertrude. "Peggy, +you must decide on the name of your +boat."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Gertrude, that is the hardest part +of all. Margaret, you must name her for +me."</p> + +<p>"Why not <i>Semiramis</i>, after the happy +mother of the puppies?" suggested Margaret.</p> + +<p>"The whole puppies!" echoed Gerald. +"Don't half name them, Margaret!"</p> + +<p>"Why isn't that the name for the boat?" +cried Phil.</p> + +<p>"It is! it is!" cried all the rest. "The +<i>Whole Puppy</i>, it is!" And Peggy laughing, +submitted.</p> + +<p>"I never <i>was</i> so teased in all my life!" +she said; "but I feel it doing me good."</p> + +<p>"That is our one object, my charming +child!" said Gerald, gravely. "We invited +you here in the hope that our united efforts<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +might counteract the pernicious influences of +Fernley House."</p> + +<p>"Nobody will ever explain to me what a +Come-at-a-Body is!" said Margaret. "Whenever +I ask, you all say, 'Oh, hush! it might +come!' Mrs. Merryweather, won't you tell +me?"</p> + +<p>"I will read you the description of it in +the Log," said Mrs. Merryweather, smiling; +"that is the best I can do for you."</p> + +<p>She turned over the pages of the book that +lay open in her lap. "Here it is!" she said. +"Now mark and learn, Margaret.</p> + +<p>"'The Come-at-a-Body is found only in its +native habitat, where it may be observed at +the proper season, indulging in the peculiar +actions that characterize it. It has more +arms than legs, and more hair than either. +It moves with great rapidity, its gait being +something between a wallop and a waddle; +and as it comes (one of its peculiarities is +that it always comes, and never goes), it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +utters loud screams, and gnashes its teeth in +time with its movements.'</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear, you know all that I do!" +Mrs. Merryweather concluded with a candid +smile.</p> + +<p>"Thank you so much!" said Margaret, +laughing. "I am certainly enlightened."</p> + +<p>At this moment Phil, who was sitting near +the door, laid down his work, and held up a +warning hand. "Hark!" he said. "What +is that?"</p> + +<p>"Only the wind!" said some one.</p> + +<p>"Or the car rattling o'er the stony street!" +said another.</p> + +<p>"No!" said Phil. "I heard a voice, I am +sure. Listen!"</p> + +<p>All were silent. Outside the rain was +pouring, the wind wailing in long sighing +gusts; but—yes! mingling with the wind, a +voice was certainly calling:</p> + +<p>"Hallo! hallo, there! Merryweather!"</p> + +<p>Gerald sprang to his feet, and struck his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +twin brother on the shoulder. "The Philistines +are upon thee, Samson!" he cried. "I +should know that voice in the shock of spears: +it is Claud Belleville!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>MR. BELLEVILLE</h3> + + +<div class="figright" style="width: 251px;"> +<img src="images/gs05.jpg" width="251" height="400" alt=""MR. CLAUD BELLEVILLE WAS A TALL, PALLID YOUTH."" title=""MR. CLAUD BELLEVILLE WAS A TALL, PALLID YOUTH."" /> +<span class="caption">"MR. CLAUD <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'BELLVILLE'">BELLEVILLE</ins> WAS A TALL, PALLID YOUTH."</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Montforts and Jack Ferrers looked up +with much curiosity and some apprehension +as the twins returned ushering in the unexpected +visitor. Mr. and Mrs. Merryweather +and the girls welcomed him cordially, but +Margaret could not help contrasting their +somewhat subdued cheerfulness with the joyous +outburst that had welcomed herself and +Peggy on their arrival.</p> + +<p>Mr. Claud Belleville was a tall, pallid +youth, with blond hair carefully arranged, +pale blue eyes, in one of which an eyeglass +was neatly fitted, and a languid air. He +spoke with a pronounced English accent, and, +on being presented to the other guests, said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +"Oh! very, very, very!" in a most affable +tone.</p> + +<p>The Merryweathers bestirred themselves, +some bringing dry garments, some preparing +a hasty meal; the guest meanwhile stood in +the centre of the hearthstone, and adjured +them not to put themselves to inconvenience.</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear people, I beg of you!" he +said. "Nothing, positively nothing, but a +biscuit and a cup of tea! Really, now, I +cannot allow it. Thanks, Jerry! awfully +good of you, don't you know! oh! very, +very, very! now, my dear fellow, <i>not</i> your +best coat! It is too absurd."</p> + +<p>"It isn't my best, it's my worst!" said +Gerald, bluntly.</p> + +<p>"Oh! very good! very diverting! thanks +awfully! don't mention it. Well, Cousin +Miranda, this is charming; this is positively +charming. So delightfully primitive, don't +you know! oh, very, very, very! I told my +people that before I went back to Paris I must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +positively look you up. It is such an age +since I have seen any of you. My little +cousins are all grown up into young ladies, +and such charming young ladies: I congratulate +you, Cousin, <i>de tout mon cœur!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Claud!" said Mrs. Merryweather, +quietly. "I trust your mother is +quite well? I only received her note, and +Gerald yours, to-day. She spoke of your +coming next week; if we had known that +you were coming to-night, we would have +sent to the station for you."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes; I knew that!" said Mr. Belleville. +"I know your hospitality never fails, +Cousin Miranda. But you know me, too—a +butterfly—here to-day, gone to-morrow! A +summons from the Dunderblincks—races +going on at their place, don't you know; midsummer +<i>fêtes</i>, that sort of thing—changed +my plans. Mamma said, 'You will have to +give up the Camp, <i>Chéri!</i>' 'No!' I said. +'They expect me; I have passed my word, it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +is all I have. I go to the Camp to-day.' I +came—I saw—I dare not say I conquered!" +Here he bowed, and threw a killing glance at +Gertrude, who was passing at the moment, +carrying the teapot.</p> + +<p>"<i>Can</i> this be the little Gertrude?" he +added, addressing her, and lowering his voice +to a sentimental half-tone. "She has not +forgotten Cousin Claud?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, Claud!" replied Gertrude, +smiling. "It is only three years since you +were with us at home for two or three weeks. +I remember you perfectly."</p> + +<p>"Only three years!" murmured Mr. Belleville. +"Is it possible? but what momentous +years! The change from the <i>petite fille</i>, the +charming child, to the woman, the—but I +must not say too much!"</p> + +<p>"You'll burn your bloom—your boots, if +you stand so near the fire!" said Gerald, in +a growl so threatening that Margaret looked +up startled.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Your</i> boots, dear fellow!" Mr. Belleville +corrected him. "Right! I am a little near +the cheerful blaze. I am a fire-worshipper, +you know; oh, very, very, very!"</p> + +<p>"Boys, you'd better see to the boats before +you go to bed!" said Mr. Merryweather, +speaking for the first time since his greeting +of the newcomer.</p> + +<p>"All right, sir!" said the twins, rising with +alacrity. "Jack, will you come along?"</p> + +<p>"Always thoughtful, Cousin Miles!" said +Mr. Belleville. "Always the prop of the +family! so unchanged!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Merryweather's reply was inarticulate, +and its tone caused his wife to begin +hastily a series of inquiries for the visitor's +family.</p> + +<p>The twins and Jack Ferrers walked slowly +down the slip in the rain. No one spoke till +they reached the float; then Gerald said +slowly: "Sapolio—Saccarappa—Sarcophagus—<i>Squedunk!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Feel better?" asked his brother, sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"There is one thing," said Gerald, still +speaking slowly and emphatically, "that I +wish, in this connection, distinctly understood. +Indoors he is safe: hospitality—salt—Arabs—that +kind of thing. But if in the immediate +proximity of the cleansing flood"—he waved +his hand toward the lake—"he continues to +patronize the parents, in he goes! I have +spoken!"</p> + +<p>"I should not presume to restrain my half-hour +elder!" said Phil. "Jack, I'm afraid +we shall have to put this curled darling in +your tent. It's only for the night, fortunately."</p> + +<p>"Oh! of course! delighted!" said Jack, +somewhat embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"Very, very, very, eh?" said Phil. "Oh! +what's the use of making believe, with any +one we know so well as you? It's a nuisance, +and we don't pretend it isn't."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mark my words, John Ferrers!" broke +in Gerald. "We mean to be civil to this +youth. He is our second cousin, and we +know it. He is also a blooming, blossoming, +burgeoning Ass, and he doesn't know it. They +seldom do. We mean, I say, to be civil to +him, barring patronage of the parents. He +has been our thorn, and we have borne him—at +intervals, mercifully not too short—all +our lives. But we aren't going to pretend +that we love him, because we don't. No more +doesn't he love us.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The love that's lost between us</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Is not the love for me;</span><br /> +But there's a flood both fair and broad,<br /> +In which I'd duck my charming Claud<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">As gladly as could be!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='center'>* * * * * * *</div> + +<p>"Are you ready?" asked the Chief.</p> + +<p>"Oh! no, Pater! not just yet. My rudder +has got fouled with the cargo."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Somebody lend me a safety-pin, please! +my mainsail is coming loose."</p> + +<p>"Has anybody got any ballast to spare? +just one pebble!"</p> + +<p>These cries and many others resounded from +the float, where the campers were gathered, +and were putting the last touches to their +toy boats. Finally Mr. Merryweather declared +that there should be no more delay. The +boats were carefully placed in the Ark, a great +white rowboat manned by the Chief and Phil, +who proceeded to row out leisurely to a white-flagged +buoy at some distance from the shore. +Gerald and Jack in one canoe, Gertrude and +Peggy in another, were stationed at either +side of the course; while Margaret and Claud +Belleville, in a Rangeley boat, were so placed +as to take the time of the various boats as +they came in. This arrangement was not +satisfactory to all the campers, but when protests +were made in the family council the +night before, Mr. Merryweather had calmly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +remarked that it was impossible to please +everybody, and that the visitors should be +given the post of honor. Gerald muttered +that he did not see why Margaret should be +butchered to make a Claudian holiday; to +which his father replied that the matter was +settled, and perhaps he, Gerald, would better +be seeing to the lanterns.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you a little hard on the boy?" +asked Mrs. Merryweather, when she and her +husband were left alone together.</p> + +<p>"He needs something to bite on!" was the +reply. "He is going through a kind of moral +teething."</p> + +<p>This regatta was the first that Margaret +had ever seen, and she was greatly excited.</p> + +<p>"Tell us when we are just right!" she +cried to the Chief as she passed the Ark. +"Oh! anchor by the red flag? yes, I remember, +you told me before. Now, Mr. +Belleville, will you throw out the anchor, +please?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Must I?" rejoined Mr. Belleville. "It +seems a pity! So charming to row about a +bit, don't you think? oh! well, if you insist!"—as +he met Margaret's horrified gaze. +"Here goes!"</p> + +<p>The anchor splashed overboard, and the +young man laid down his oars.</p> + +<p>"You take this <i>au grand sérieux</i>, I see, +Miss Montfort, like my good cousins themselves. +I confess I never can attain their +perennial youthfulness, try how I will. I feel +a Methuselah, I give you my word I do. Oh! +very, very, very!"</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you," said Margaret, +simply. "We are here to take the time, as +the boats pass the line. There is no other +object in our being here."</p> + +<p>"No other? Alas! poor Claud!" sighed +Mr. Belleville. "Now, to me, Miss Montfort, +the sailing of toy boats is the smallest +possible factor in this afternoon's pleasure. +It is not, believe me, the childish sport<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +that I shall remember when I am far +away."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Margaret, vaguely, her eyes +on the white boat.</p> + +<p>"You do not ask what it is that I shall +carry with me across the ocean?" Claud's +voice dropped to its favorite smooth half-tone, +what he was fond of describing to his friends +as "<i>ma mi-voix caressante</i>."</p> + +<p>"There is a glamour, Miss Montfort, a +magic, that does not always put itself into +words. The perfect day, the perfect vision, +will dwell with me—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, look!" cried Margaret, starting forward, +eagerly, "they are giving the signal. +Gerald repeats it. Oh, they are off! Look, +look, Mr. Belleville! What a pretty sight."</p> + +<p>It was, indeed, a pretty sight. The fairy +fleet started in line, their white and brown +sails taking the breeze gallantly, their prows +(where they had prows) dancing over the +dancing ripples. One or two proved unruly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +turning round and round, and in one case +finally turning bottom side up, with hardly +a struggle. But most of the little vessels +kept fairly well within the course, heading, +more or less, for the shore.</p> + +<p>Margaret was enchanted.</p> + +<p>"How wonderfully they keep together!" +she said. "Oh! but now they begin to +separate. Look, there is a poor little one +wobbling off all by itself. I wonder—I am +afraid it is Peggy's. Yes, I am sure it is. +Poor Peggy! Oh! the first three are going +much faster than the rest. I wonder whose +they are. How prettily they sail! Did you +ever see anything prettier?"</p> + +<p>"I see something infinitely prettier," said +Mr. Belleville, fixing his eyes on his companion. +But Margaret, wholly unconscious +of his languishing gaze, was watching the +race with an intensity of eagerness that left +no room for any other impressions.</p> + +<p>The three forward boats came on swiftly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +their prows dipping lightly, their paper sails +spread full to the breeze. Shouts came ringing +over the water, from the other boats, and +from the shore, where the rest of the campers +were gathered in an excited knot.</p> + +<p>"<i>Jollycumpop!</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Come-at-a-Body!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Good work, <i>Jolly!</i> Keep it up!"</p> + +<p>"The <i>Whale</i> is gaining. Hit her up, Spermaceti!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Jollycumpop</i> has it! <i>Jollycumpop!</i>"</p> + +<p>"The <i>Jolly is</i> first," cried Margaret; "but +the <i>Come-at-a-Body</i> is very, very close. Which +do you think will win, Mr. Belleville?"</p> + +<p>"Which do you wish to win?" asked Mr. +Belleville.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how can I tell? One is Gertrude's, +the other Gerald's."</p> + +<p>"There can be little doubt in that case, I +imagine," said Claud Belleville, with a peculiar +smile. "As a matter of simple gallantry—dear +me, how unfortunate!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> + +<p>As he spoke, his oar slipped from his hand, +and fell with a splash into the water. The +<i>Come-at-a-Body</i> was nearest to the Rangeley +boat. The oar did not absolutely touch the +tiny vessel, but the shock of the disturbed +water was enough to check her gallant progress. +She paused,—wavered,—finally recovered +herself, and went bravely on. But +in that pause the <i>Jollycumpop</i> crossed the +line triumphantly, amid loud acclamations.</p> + +<p>"The little Gertrude wins!" exclaimed +Mr. Belleville, recovering his oar with graceful +composure. "We can hardly regret an accident +which contributes even slightly to give +the victory where it so manifestly belongs, +can we, Miss Montfort?"</p> + +<p>But Margaret Montfort turned upon him, +her fair face flushed with anger, her gentle +eyes full of fire.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Belleville, you dropped that oar on +purpose!" she said, quietly.</p> + +<p>"How can you suspect me of such a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +thing?" replied Mr. Belleville, laughing. +"But, <i>quand même!</i> would it have been +wholly unjustifiable if I had done so?"</p> + +<p>"Wholly, to my mind!" said Margaret. +"In fact, I cannot imagine such a thing being +done by any one who—" she checked herself.</p> + +<p>"By any one who is related to these dear +people?" said Mr. Belleville, lightly. "Ah! +Miss Montfort, a bond of blood does not +always mean a bond of sympathy. These +dear people bore me, and I bore them. Believe +me, it is reciprocal. But do you yourself +never tire of this everlasting childishness, +these <i>jeux d'enfance</i>, on the part of persons +who, after all, are mostly beyond the nursery?"</p> + +<p>"I do not!" said Margaret, concisely. "If +you will take in the anchor, Mr. Belleville, +I think I should like to go ashore, if you +please."</p> + +<p>"I have offended you!" cried Claud Belleville.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +"You, to whom from the first instant +I have felt so irresistibly drawn. I am unfortunate, +indeed. But you cannot be seriously +angry. Give me a chance to redeem +myself, I implore you, Miss Montfort. See +what a charming little cove opens yonder, +just opposite. Delightful to drift and dream +for an hour, in the company of one who +understands—oh, very, very, very."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand," said Margaret, +"and I have no desire to do so, Mr. Belleville. +I beg you to take me ashore at once,—this +moment."</p> + +<p>"And if I were bold enough to delay +obedience for a few moments? If I felt confident +that I could overcome this stern—"</p> + +<p>"Gertrude," called Margaret, as the owner +of the victorious <i>Jollycumpop</i> passed them +with a triumphant greeting, "can you give +us a tow?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Gertrude. "Anything +wrong?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>"On the contrary, dear cousin," said Claud, +"I challenge you to a race."</p> + +<p>And with a glance at Margaret, half reproachful, +half mocking, he bent to his oars, +with the first sign of energy he had shown +since his arrival.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>PUPPY PLAY</h3> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Bell</span>, may I speak to you a moment?" +said Margaret.</p> + +<p>Bell looked up from a critical inspection of +the <i>Tintinnabula</i>, which had been somewhat +injured in the race. "Certainly, May Margaret!" +she said. "Do you want to know +why my poor boatie did not win? I have just +found out." Then, looking up, and seeing +Margaret's disturbed face, she rose instantly.</p> + +<p>"Something is wrong?" she said, quickly. +"Come this way, under the trees, where it is +quiet. You have had no bad news, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Margaret. "But—Bell, +I have something very disagreeable to tell +you. It seems terrible to say anything that +may make trouble, but nothing makes so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +much trouble as untruth, and I do think you +ought to know this. I don't think the <i>Jollycumpop</i> +really won the race!"</p> + +<p>"My dear Margaret! she came in well +ahead; didn't you see—"</p> + +<p>"Listen, Bell!" and Margaret told in a +few words the story of the dropped oar.</p> + +<p>Bell listened with keen attention, and when +Margaret had finished, whistled two bars of +the Siegfried <i>motif</i> very correctly before she +spoke.</p> + +<p>"The little animal!" she said at last. +"Well, Margaret, do you know, the best +thing to do, in my opinion, is—to say nothing +about it, at present."</p> + +<p>"But—Bell! Gerald really won!"</p> + +<p>"I know! but, even as it is, Jerry can +hardly keep his hands off Claud. My one +prayer is that we may be able to get the boy +off to-morrow without an open quarrel breaking +out. You see, Margaret, when they were +little, it was all right for Jerry to thrash<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +him. He did it punctually and thoroughly, +every time they met, and it was very good +for the boy; but now of course it is out of +the question."</p> + +<p>"Why did he come here?" inquired Margaret. +"Did ever any one manage to make +so much trouble in so short a time? the very +air seems changed."</p> + +<p>Bell shrugged her shoulders. "His mother +made him come, probably," she said. "He +is really devoted to his mother; when you +see him with her, you forgive a great deal. +She is very fond of my father, and is always +hoping that he may be able to influence +Claud, and to appreciate him. After all, +the boy has no father, and he has been systematically +spoiled ever since he was born. +I wish to-morrow were over."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Margaret, slowly, "I am to +say nothing about this matter."</p> + +<p>"Please not!" said her friend. "My dear, +I see you are troubled, because you saw the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +horrid thing done; and you don't think it +right to conceal the truth, even for a time. +I am just as angry as you, but remember, +there is 'a time to speak and a time to be +silent.' This is a time to be silent, I am +very sure; if we were to tell the boys now, it +would be a match thrown into a powder-magazine. +To-morrow, when Claud is safely off +to his Dunderblincks, we will tell them; there +will be an explosion then, but it will do no +harm; and in a day or two the two boats can +have a race by themselves, and that will decide +the case. Are you convinced, Justitia?"</p> + +<p>"Entirely!" said Margaret. "You are +very wise, Bell; I suppose I was too angry to +see clearly; I have never been so angry in +my life. As you say, I suppose it is because +I saw it; and it <i>was</i> a horrid thing to see. I +too wish to-morrow were over."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The morrow came, and the morning passed +peacefully enough. The wagon was ordered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +which was to carry the visitor to the evening +train. The elders began to breathe freely, +and it was with a mind comparatively at rest +that Mr. Merryweather strolled down to the +float after dinner, to inspect a boat which had +been hauled up for repairs. The other "menfolks" +of the family followed him, and all +stood round after the fashion of their kind, +saying little, but enjoying themselves in their +own way.</p> + +<p>"I'd caulk her a bit, Jerry," said the +Chief; "and then give her a couple of coats +of shellac. She'll do then for the rest of the +season."</p> + +<p>"All right, Pater!" said Jerry.</p> + +<p>"And if it be possible," his father went +on, "so far as in you lies, do not spill +the shellac about. Shellac is an excellent +thing in its place, but I don't like it on +the seat of my chair, where I found it +this morning, nor sprinkled over the new +'Century,' as it was last night. And it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +isn't as if there were any to spare; the can +is very low."</p> + +<p>"I know!" said Gerald, penitently. "I +am awfully sorry, Pater. I threw a cushion +at Fergs, and it upset the can. I scraped up +as much as I could; I think there is enough +left for this job. If not, would that varnish +do?"</p> + +<p>"Varnish—" said Mr. Merryweather; and +he plunged into a dissertation upon the abominations +of most varnishes and the iniquities +of their makers. Gerald replied, defending +certain kinds for certain purposes; the others +chimed in, and a heated discussion was going +on, when Claud Belleville joined the party. +In spotless gray tweeds, with a white Manila +hat and a lavender necktie, he made a singular +contrast to the campers in their flannel +shirts and dingy corduroys.</p> + +<p>At his appearance, Gerald rose from his +squatting posture at the stern of the boat, +while Phil and Jack amiably made way for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +the newcomer at the edge of the wharf, where, +for some unexplained reason, men always like +to stand. Claud, finding himself between +Gerald and his father, turned toward the +latter with an air of cheerful benevolence.</p> + +<p>"Cousin Miles," he said, "you must promise +me, you really must, to come to us at Bar +Harbor before the end of the summer. I +gave my word to Mamma that I would induce +you to come. She longs to see you."</p> + +<p>"I should like very much to see her," said +Mr. Merryweather. "We were always very +good friends, your mother and I. Give her +my love, and tell her that some time when she +is in New York I shall run on to see her; +possibly this autumn, before you sail. It +would not be possible for me to leave here +now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but yes!" cried Mr. Belleville, airily. +"It could be possible, Cousin Miles. Here are +the boys, absolutely <i>au fait</i> in bog-trotting of +every description; in fact, suited to the life—in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +all its aspects." He swept Gerald with +a comprehensive glance, from his mop of red +hair, tanned into rust-color, to his feet, clad in +superannuated "sneakers."</p> + +<p>"They can do all the honors of the place as +they should be done," he added. "But you, +Cousin Miles, you must positively come to +Bar Harbor. You live too much the life of +the fields. Mamma is constantly deploring +it. We will show you a little life, Mamma +and I. I will put you up at my Club, and +take you out in my new auto; in a week, you +will not know yourself, I give you my word. +Oh, very, very, very!"</p> + +<p>As the speaker stood beaming benevolence +at Mr. Merryweather, and diffusing contempt +among the rest of the party, two hands were +laid on his shoulders; hands which gripped +like steel, and propelled him forward with +irresistible force. He staggered, struggled to +save himself—and the next instant disappeared +with a loud splash beneath the water.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gerald confronted his father with a face of +white fire.</p> + +<p>"I told him, sir, plainly and distinctly, +that if he patronized you I should duck him!" +he said. "He has had fair warning: this +has gone on long enough."</p> + +<p>"Gerald," said Mr. Merryweather, gravely, +"you are behaving like a foolish and ill-tempered +child. I am fully able to take care +of myself. We will talk of this later. Meantime +you will apologize to your cousin."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly, sir! I intended to, of +course."</p> + +<p>While this brief colloquy had been going +on, Phil and Jack, with sparkling eyes, waited +at the edge of the wharf for the reappearance +of Mr. Belleville. Up he came presently, +splashing and sputtering, his eyes flashing +angry sparks. Phil held out a hand; a +vigorous pull, a scramble, and he stood once +more on the wharf. Gerald walked up to +him at once. "I beg your pardon, Claud!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +he said. "I had no business to do it, and +I apologize."</p> + +<p>Claud gave a spiteful laugh, and shook +himself in his cousin's direction, spattering +him with drops. "Don't mention it, dear +fellow!" he said, through his chattering teeth. +"It serves me right for expecting civilized +manners in the backwoods. This no doubt +appears to you an exquisite pleasantry, and its +delicacy will be appreciated, no doubt, by +others of your circle. <i>Enfin</i>, in the presence +of your father, whom I respect, I can but +accept your apology. Since you are sorry—"</p> + +<p>"I did not say I was sorry!" Gerald broke +in. "I said I begged your pardon."</p> + +<p>"My son, will you go at once and attend +to the fire?" said Mr. Merryweather.</p> + +<p>"Father—"</p> + +<p>"<i>At once!</i>" repeated Mr. Merryweather.</p> + +<p>Gerald went.</p> + +<p>"Phil, take your cousin in, and get him +some dry clothes. His own will be dry before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +the wagon comes, if you hang them by the +kitchen stove. Hurry now!"</p> + +<p>Phil and Claud went off in surly silence, +and Mr. Merryweather turned to Jack Ferrers, +who had remained an amused but somewhat +embarrassed spectator of the scene.</p> + +<p>"Puppy play, Jack!" he said, quietly. +"You have seen plenty of it in Germany. +One puppy <i>is</i> a puppy, more's the pity, and +the other has red hair. Well! well! I did +hope this could have been avoided; but we +must not let it go any further. I wish Roger +were here. I wonder if you can help me out, +Jack."</p> + +<p>"I'll do my best, sir!" said Jack, heartily.</p> + +<p>"You see, I must go off; I ought to be at +the village landing this moment, to see about +that freight that is coming. Do you think +you can keep the peace till I come back?"</p> + +<p>"I think I can," said Jack. "I'll make +a good try for it, anyhow, Mr. Merryweather."</p> + +<p>"That's a good lad!" said the Chief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +"You could knock both their heads together, +if you put your mind—and your biceps—to +it; but I hope that will not be necessary. In +any case, don't let them fight! I promised +his mother."</p> + +<p>He nodded, and, settling himself in a boat, +departed with long, powerful strokes.</p> + +<p>Jack, left alone, shook his curly head, and +felt of his arms.</p> + +<p>"Ah'm fit!" he said, quoting another and +a bigger Jock than himself. "But it's a pity. +That fellow is not only a puppy, he is a cur. +I never saw anybody who needed a thrashing +more." And he went and coiled himself in a +hammock, and prepared to keep watch.</p> + +<p>An hour later Mr. Claud Belleville, once +more dry, if somewhat shorn of his glory, +reappeared upon the scene. As he came out +of his tent, Gerald strolled carelessly out of the +boat-house, his hands in his pockets.</p> + +<p>"Cousin Rowdy, a word with you, if you +please!" said Claud.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Cousin Cad, two, if you like!" said +Gerald.</p> + +<p>"In France, where I live," Mr. Belleville +resumed, "when we are insulted, we fight."</p> + +<p>"No! do you really?" cried Gerald, his +eyes sparkling as he began eagerly to turn +back his cuffs. "Hooray! I say, shake hands, +Claud. I didn't think you had it in you. +There's a bully place up behind the woodshed. +Come on!"</p> + +<p>Claud Belleville, who really was no coward, +started forward readily: but at this moment +Destiny intervened, in the shape of six foot +four of John Ferrers. Uncoiling his length +from the hammock, he took two strides forward, +and lifting Gerald in his arms as if he +were an infant, carried him off bodily. Gerald, +who was strong and agile as a young panther, +fought and struggled, pouring out a torrent of +angry protest; but in vain. When Jack put +forth his full strength, there was no possibility +of resistance. He bore the furious lad to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +tent, and throwing him on the cot, deliberately +sat down on his feet, in calm and cheerful +silence. Gerald twisted and writhed, exhausted +himself in struggles, threats, prayers; +all in vain! Jack sat like a statue. Finally +the boy relapsed into sullen silence, and lay +panting, his hand clenched, his blue eyes dark +with anger and chagrin.</p> + +<p>By and by came the sound of wheels; a +wagon stopped in front of the camp. There +were sounds of leave-taking; "Good-by, +Claud!" "Our love to your mother!" in various +tones and modulations; then the sound +of wheels once more, rattling up the hill and +away in the distance. Then Jack Ferrers +rose, and smiled down on his prostrate +friend.</p> + +<p>"Awfully sorry, old man!" he said.</p> + +<p>Gerald was silent.</p> + +<p>"Jerry! you're not going to cut up +rough?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to say," said Gerald, coldly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are my guest, and manners forbid. We +will change the subject, if you please."</p> + +<p>"Manners didn't forbid your chucking the +Charmer into the drink!" said Jack. "Ho! +did you see him blink when he came up? It +was worth while, Jerry, even if I have to +fight you, but I don't believe I shall. You +see, your father had to go off, and he asked +me to keep the peace, and I said I would; +and I didn't see any other way, wildcat that +you are. A sweet condition the Charmer +would have been in to go back to his Mamma, +if I had not done as I did!"</p> + +<p>"I might have known the Pater was at the +bottom of it!" said Gerald, his face lightening, +and his voice taking on its own kindly +ring. "Fine man; but the extent to which +he won't let me thrash Claud is simply +disgusting. When it comes to setting a Megatherium +on a man—"</p> + +<p>"And to the Megatherium sitting on the +man—" said Jack, laughing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No more o' that, Jack, if thou love me! +There's the horn! Come on, and let that +flint-hearted parent see that we are all right."</p> + +<p>The pair strolled in to supper, arm in arm, +singing, to the tune of "Home, Sweet Home!"</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Claud, Claud, sweet, sweet Claud!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">There's no ass like Claud,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">There is no ass like Claud!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>and were promptly silenced by Mrs. Merryweather.</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>MRS. MERRYWEATHER'S VIGIL</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Merryweather</span> had had a busy day. +There had been a picnic at Oak Island, which +had taken all the morning and a good part of +the afternoon; then there had been a dozen +letters to write for the late mail; and finally +she had taken Kitty's turn with Willy at +getting supper, as Kitty had a headache. +The sisters protested, each one claiming her +right to take the extra duty; but Mrs. Merryweather +had her own reasons for being glad +of the hour of play-work with her little boy. +Willy had been rather out of spirits, which +meant that he, as well as his sister, had eaten +too many huckleberries; this afternoon he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +had been decidedly cross, and required treatment.</p> + +<p>Coming into the kitchen at five o'clock, +she found the fire lighted, and the kettle on, +for Willy was a faithful soul; but he was +frowning heavily over his chopping-tray.</p> + +<p>"I wish mince-meat had never been invented!" +he said, gloomily.</p> + +<p>"Do you?" said his mother. "I don't! +I am glad it was, even if I did not have three +helps last night."</p> + +<p>"I was so hungry, I had to eat something," +said Willy, in an injured tone. "When I +grow up, I mean to have beefsteak every +day, and never have anything made over +at all."</p> + +<p>"I'll remember that, the next time we have +brown-bread brewis!" said his mother smiling.</p> + +<p>"Oh! that's different!" said Willy.</p> + +<p>"Most things are different," said Mrs. +Merryweather, "if you look at them in a +different way. Is that ready, son?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> + +<p>"As ready as it is ever going to be. I've +chopped till my arm is almost broken."</p> + +<p>"So I see! It looks as if you had cracked it. +Well, now, it isn't time yet to make the rolls, +so we can take breath a bit. Come out on +the porch, and let us play something till the +kettle boils."</p> + +<p>"I don't feel like playing!" said Willy, +dolefully; "I don't feel like doing anything, +Mammy."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Merryweather looked at him a moment; +then taking his hands in hers, she said +suddenly, "'For heaven's sake let us sit upon +the ground, and tell sad stories of the death +of kings!' That is a passage from Richard +II., and it seems to fit the occasion. Sit down, +Willy; right here on the floor by me; I'll +begin. Two minutes for composition!"</p> + +<p>She was silent, looking out over the water, +while Willy glanced sidewise at her, half-interested +in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>"I have it!" she said, presently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> + +<div class='poem'> +"King John put on such frightful airs,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">He met his death by eating pears.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Your turn, Willy! two minutes!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mammy, I can't play!"</p> + +<p>"But you <i>are</i> playing. Only one minute +more."</p> + +<p>"Well, then—does it have to be the real +way they died? because I don't know."</p> + +<p>"No! facts not required in this game."</p> + +<p>"Well, then—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"King Og<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Was lost in a bog."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Your metre is faulty," said his mother, +thoughtfully, "but the statement is interesting. +My turn; you shall hold the watch for +me."</p> + +<p>"Time's up!" cried Willy, beginning to +kindle.</p> + +<p>"Oh! is it? What short minutes! Let me +see!</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"King Xerxes<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Was killed by Turkses."</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/gs06.jpg" width="500" height="375" alt="MRS. MERRYWEATHER'S VIGIL." title="MRS. MERRYWEATHER'S VIGIL." /> +<span class="caption">MRS. MERRYWEATHER'S VIGIL.</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh! I wanted Xerxes. Wait, Mammy. +I have one!</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"King David<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Could not be savèd!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Good!" cried his mother. "That is the +best yet. But we might branch out a little, +I think, Willy. This condensed couplet is +forcible, but not very graceful. How do you +like this?</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Tiglath-pileser, Tiglath-pileser,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">He tried to buy a lemon-squeezer;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But no such thing had e'er been seen,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">So in a melancholy green,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Oh, very green, and very yellow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">He pined away and died, poor fellow!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"That is splendid," said Willy, "but you +took a little more than two minutes. My +turn now!</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"The great and mighty Alexander<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Was bit to death by a salamander."</span><br /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Done</i> to death is more poetic!" said his +mother.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but 'bit' is more savage. I like +'bit.' Your time's up, Mammy!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Willy, I am going to give you a +subtle one this time; one in which something +is left to the imagination.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"The Emperor Domitian<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Consulted a physician!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"But you didn't kill him."</p> + +<p>"No, but the physician did."</p> + +<p>"Really?"</p> + +<p>"No, not really. What do you think of +this game?"</p> + +<p>"I think it's bully. Did you really just +make it up, Mammy?"</p> + +<p>"Just! Now the kettle is boiling, and we +must come in; but as we go, let me inform +you that—</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"The Emperor Tiberius<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">He died of something serious;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But now we'll stop,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And make the pop-</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Ov<i>ers</i> before we weary us!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Willy's gloom was effectually banished, and +he continued to slaughter kings till the supper-horn +blew.</p> + +<p>The effect of this and other mental exercises, +added to a cup of tea, was such that when bed-time +came, Mrs. Merryweather found herself +singularly wide awake. In vain she counted +hundreds; in vain she ransacked her memory +for saints, kings, and cities alphabetically +arranged; in vain she made a list of Johns, +beginning with the Baptist and ending with +John O'Groats; the second hundred found +her wider awake than ever, as she tossed on +her narrow cot. Mr. Merryweather, in the +opposite cot, was breathing deep and regularly; +he was sound asleep, at least, and that +was a good thing. Other than this, no sound +broke the perfect stillness of the night. The +full moon rode high, and lake and woodland<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +were flooded with silver light. A glorious +night! Mrs. Merryweather sighed; what +was the use of staying in bed on such a +night as this, when one could not sleep? If +only there were some excuse for getting up!</p> + +<p>Suddenly she remembered that, the night +being very warm, and the two children apparently +entirely recovered from their slight indisposition, +they had been allowed to sleep out +on the Point, in accordance with a promise +made some days ago by their father. She +had not been quite willing, but had yielded +to pressure, and they had gone out, very +happy, with their blankets and the india-rubber +floor-cloth.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Merryweather sat up in bed. "I ought +to go and see if those chicks are all right!" +she said. "After all, they certainly were not +quite well this afternoon, whatever Miles may +say." She glanced half-defiantly at the other +cot, but Miles said nothing. She rose quietly, +put on wrapper and slippers, and opening<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +noiselessly the screen-door of the tent, slipped +out into the open, and stood for a moment +looking about her. How beautiful it was! +what a wonderful silver world! Sleep was +good, but surely, to be awake, on such a night +as this, was better.</p> + +<p>She stole past the other tents, pausing an +instant at the door of each to listen for the +regular breathing which is the sweetest music +a mother can hear; then she made her way +out to the Point, through the sweet tangle of +fern and berry-bushes, under the bending trees +that dropped dew on her head as she passed.</p> + +<p>The Point lay like the prow of some great +vessel in a silver sea. One tall pine stood for +the mast; under this pine, rolled in scarlet +blankets, their rosy faces turned toward the +moon, lay the children, sound asleep. Willy +had curled one arm under his head, and his +other hand was locked in his sister's.</p> + +<p>"Dear little things!" murmured their +mother. "That means that Kitty-my-pretty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +was a little bit frightened before she went to +sleep. Dear little things!"</p> + +<p>She stood there for some time looking down +at them.</p> + +<p>"The moon is full on their faces!" she +said. "My old nurse would tell me that they +would be moonstruck 'for sartain sure!' +How terrified I used to be, lest a ray of +moonlight should shine on my bed, and I +should wake a lunatic!"</p> + +<p>She glanced up at the moon; looked again, +and yet again. "That is very singular!" +said Mrs. Merryweather. "Something seems +to be happening to the moon."</p> + +<p>Something <i>was</i> happening to the moon. It +was as if a piece had been bitten out of the +shining round. Was it a little cloud? no! +no cloud could possibly look like that, so +black, so thick, so—"Good gracious!" +said Mrs. Merryweather; "it is an eclipse!"</p> + +<p>An eclipse it certainly was. Slowly, surely, +the black shadow crept, crept, over the silver<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +disk; now a quarter of its surface was hidden; +now it went creeping, creeping on +toward the half.</p> + +<p>"It is going to be a total eclipse!" said +Mrs. Merryweather. "I suppose I ought to +wake some of them."</p> + +<p>She stood a moment more, looking irresolutely +at the sleeping children. "I cannot +possibly wake them!" she said at last. +"Little lambs! they are sleeping so beautifully, +and they certainly were <i>not</i> quite themselves +this afternoon. Besides, there will be +plenty more eclipses; I'll go and wake some +of the others."</p> + +<p>The black shadow crept on. Hardly less +silent, Mrs. Merryweather paused before the +tent where her daughters slept. Bell and +Gertrude scorned cots, and their mattresses +were spread on the floor at night, and rolled +up in the daytime. There the two girls lay, +still and placid, statue-like, save for the +gentle heaving of their quiet breasts. A fair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +picture for a mother to look on. Miranda +Merryweather looked, and drew a happy +breath; looked again, and shook her head. +"I cannot wake them!" she murmured to +herself. "They are both tired after that expedition; +Bell paddled very hard on the way +back; she was much more flushed than I like +to see her, when she came in. And Gertrude +sleeps so lightly, I fear she might not get to +sleep again if I were to wake her now."</p> + +<p>The black shadow crept on; the mother +crept into the boys' tent, and stood beside +Gerald's cot. The lad lay with his arms flung +wide apart; his curly hair was tossed over +his broad open forehead; his clear-cut features +were set as if in marble.</p> + +<p>"He has such a beautiful forehead!" said +Mrs. Merryweather. "He sleeps so very +sound, that if I were to wake him he might +not be able to sleep again. Dear Jerry!"</p> + +<p>She moved over to Phil's cot: Phil was +uneasy, and as she stopped to straighten the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +bedclothes, he turned on his side, muttering +something that sounded like "Bother breakfast!"</p> + +<p>"Poor laddie!" said Mrs. Merryweather. +"He looks as if he might have a headache. +I wish I had made him take a nice little cup +of hot malted milk before he went to bed. It +is out of the question to wake him, when +he is sleeping so uneasily."</p> + +<p>She left the tent, with hardly a glance +toward Jack Ferrers, who lay in the farthest +cot. The idea of waking him, and having +him disturb her own boys, was too preposterous +to be entertained for an instant.</p> + +<p>The black shadow had crept entirely over +the moon; no silver disk now, only a shield +of dull bronze; "like some of the Pompeiian +bronzes!" Mrs. Merryweather thought. "It +is very extraordinary. I suppose I really +<i>ought</i> to wake Miles."</p> + +<p>She entered her own tent, and stood by +her husband's cot. Miles Merryweather was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +sleeping quite as soundly as any of his children; +in fact, he was a very statue of sleep; +but his wife laid her hand gently on his +shoulder. "Miles!" she said; it must be +confessed that she did not speak very loud. +"Miles, there is an eclipse!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Merryweather did not stir.</p> + +<p>"Miles! do you want to wake up?"</p> + +<p>No reply; no motion of the long, still form. +Mrs. Merryweather breathed more freely. +"Miles was more tired to-night than I have +seen him all summer!" she said. "He cannot +remember that we are not twenty-five any +more. It is very bad for a man to get overtired +when he is no longer young. Well, I +certainly did try to wake him; but such a +<i>very</i> sound sleep as this shows how much he +needed it. I am sure it is much more important +for him to sleep than to see the eclipse; +it isn't as if he had not seen plenty of eclipses +in his life. Of course, if it had been the sun, +it would have been different."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>She stood at the door of the tent, watching. +Slowly, slowly, the black shadow passed; +slowly, slowly, the silver crescent widened to a +broad arc, and finally to the perfect argent +round; once more the whole world lay bathed +in silver light. Mrs. Merryweather gazed on +peacefully, and murmured under her breath +certain words that she loved:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Now the sun is gone to sleep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Seated in thy silver chair,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">State in wonted measure keep.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Hesperus entreats thy light,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Goddess excellently bright!'</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"But if Roger had been here," said Miranda +Merryweather, "I should certainly have waked +him, because he is a scientific man, and it +would have been only right!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>"SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE +FORGOT—"</h3> + +<div class='poem'> +"A wet sheet and a flowing sea,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">A wind that follows fast—"</span><br /> +</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Phil Merryweather</span> was singing as he +brought his boat about. "Slacken your sheet, +Peggy! easy—that's right! a half-hitch—look +here, young lady! I believe you +have been humbugging us all; don't tell me +you never sailed a boat before!"</p> + +<p>"Never in all my life!" said Peggy, looking +up joyously. "I have only dreamed of it +and thought about it, ever since I can remember. +And I have read the 'Seaman's Friend,' +and 'Two Years Before the Mast,' so I do +know a little bit about how things ought to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +go. I think every girl ought to learn how +to sail a boat, if she possibly can; but out on +the ranch, you see, there really wasn't any +chance. We could only make believe, but we +used to have great fun doing that."</p> + +<p>"How did you make your believe? I should +like to hear about it. Ease her off a bit—so—as +you are!"</p> + +<p>"Why, we made a boat out of the great +swing in the barn. It is a huge barn, and +the swing is big enough for three elephants to +swing on at once; and Hugh fastened hammocks +along it lengthwise, and then rigged +ropes and pulleys for us, and an old canvas +hammock with the ends cut off for a sail; so +we swung, and called it sailing, and had +storms and shipwrecks, and all kinds of +adventures. It was great fun. Oh, I do wish +some of you could come out to the ranch some +day. If there was only water, it would be +the best place in the world—except this and +Fernley."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm coming some day!" said Phil. "See +if I don't. It must be corking sport, riding +about over those great plains."</p> + +<p>"Oh! it is!" cried Peggy. "When you +come, Phil, you shall ride Monte. He is the +most beautiful creature, a Spanish jennet. +Jack Del Monte sent him to brother Jim, but +he isn't up to Jim's weight, so he lets me ride +him. He is like the horses in poetry, that is +the only way I can describe him; white as +milk, with great dark eyes, and graceful—oh, +I <i>do</i> want you to see him. No horse in +poetry was ever half so beautiful; in fact, I +think I take back what I said; I don't really +think poets know much about horses; do +you?"</p> + +<p>"'Zebra-footed, ostrich-thighed,'" quoted +Phil, laughing.</p> + +<p>"I know!" said Peggy, indignantly. "Now, +the idea, Phil! one thinks of a poor dear horse +all over ostrich feathers behind, which is dreadful. +But then, I don't understand poetry,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +except about battles, Macaulay and Scott. +Don't you love 'Marmion'?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do!" said Phil, heartily. "Hi!"</p> + +<p>This last brief exclamation was made in a +tone of some concern.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Peggy. "Am I trimming +wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Right as a trivet! but—have you ever +heard of a williwaw, Peggy?"</p> + +<p>"It's a squall, isn't it? Captain Slocum +tells about them in 'Sailing Alone Round the +World.'"</p> + +<p>"That's it! Well, I think we are going to +get one. If you will take the helm again for +a moment, I'll take in a reef."</p> + +<p>Peggy took the tiller in her strong little +brown hand, and looked on admiringly while +Phil reefed the sail with creditable swiftness. +Soon all was tight, and the two young people +watched with cheerful interest the coming on +of the squall.</p> + +<p>On it came, a line of white on the water, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +gray curtain of driving rain above it. The +wind began to sing in the rigging of the +sailboat; next moment she heeled heavily +over, and sped along with her lee rail under +water.</p> + +<p>"I'd sit pretty well up to windward if I +were you," shouted Phil. "You'll be dryest +on the gunwale, if you don't mind!"</p> + +<p>As Peggy seated herself with alacrity on +the gunwale, Phil looked at her with approval. +Her eyes were shining, her whole rosy face +alight with happy excitement.</p> + +<p>"Now, that's the kind of girl I like to see!" +said this young gentleman, forgetting that he +had been seeing three of the same kind ever +since he could remember; but sisters are +different!</p> + +<p>"Not so bad, eh?" he said, as he took +another turn on the sheet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phil, it is perfectly splendid! why, +we are simply flying! Oh, I wish it was like +this all the time."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hi!" said Phil again. "Everybody doesn't +seem to be of your opinion, Peggy. That boat +over there will be in trouble if she doesn't +look out. Sapolio! there is something wrong. +We'd better run over and see."</p> + +<p>At a little distance a small boat was tossing +violently on the water; her sail was lowered, +and a white handkerchief was fluttering from +the stern like a signal of distress.</p> + +<p>"Ready about!" said Phil. Peggy crouched +down on the seat, the boom swung over, and +the gallant little <i>Petrel</i> flew swiftly as her +namesake to the rescue.</p> + +<p>"Anything wrong?" asked Phil, as he +ran alongside the crippled boat.</p> + +<p>"Broke our rudder!" was the reply, from +a pleasant-looking lad; "must have been +cracked before we started. If you could lend +us a pair of oars—I was very stupid to come +out without a pair—"</p> + +<p>At this moment a clear, shrill voice was +heard above the noise of wind and water, crying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +aloud, "My Veezy Vee! my Veezy Vee! +It <i>is</i> my Veezy Vee! Don't tell me it isn't, for +it simply <i>is!</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Viola!</i>" cried Peggy. "Vanity! can it +be you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear! I was once, perhaps, but +with all my crimps out, how can you have the +heart? If ever I get ashore alive,—"</p> + +<p>"Don't be ridiculous, Viola!" said the lad, +in a tone of brotherly tolerance. "You are in +no more danger—now—then if you were +in bed. Though I admit it might have been +rather fussy if we hadn't met you!" he added, +with a meaning look at Phil.</p> + +<p>"How far have you to go?" asked Phil. +"Buffum's Point? Well, now, look here! that +will be a long, hard pull against this wind. +You'd much better let us tow you down to our +camp, and then you can ship a new rudder, +and go home any old time when the wind sets +right."</p> + +<p>The young man hesitated. "Why—you're<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +awfully good," he said, "but I think we'd +better get home—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, do, <i>do</i> let us go, Tom!" cried the +pretty girl who had waved the handkerchief, +and who seemed still, somehow, to be waving +everything about her. "No, I won't be quiet! +It's my Veezy Vee, I tell you; it's Peggy +Montfort, and I am simply expiring to talk to +her. Besides, if I am going to be drowned, I +want to be drowned with another girl. Oh, +Peggy, isn't it dreadful? Do you think we +shall ever get home alive?"</p> + +<p>Here the wind caught her hat, and in a +frantic effort to retain it, she very nearly fell +overboard. "There!" she cried. "I told +you so, Tommy; I knew I should be drowned."</p> + +<p>"I never said you wouldn't," replied her +brother, with some heat, "if you play such +pranks as that. You simply <i>must</i> sit still, +Vi!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's all very well to say I must sit +still, Tommy Vincent. If <i>you</i> had a hat that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +was the pride of your life, instead of a felt +saucepan, perhaps you wouldn't want to have +it carried off and drowned before your eyes. +My precious hatty!"</p> + +<p>"Why, we are all right, Viola," said Peggy. +"It is perfectly splendid, I think. Besides, +the worst of it is past. Look! the sky is +lightening already; the whole thing will be +over soon."</p> + +<p>"But I am drenched to the skin!" cried +poor Viola. "The rain has gone through and +wet my poor bones, I know it has; I shall +<i>never</i> be dry again, I am convinced, never: +there isn't a school-book in the world dry +enough to dry me, Peggy, not even Hallam's +'Middle Ages.'"</p> + +<p>"Pooh! who cares for a wetting?" said +Peggy, shaking herself like a Newfoundland +dog. "It only adds to the fun."</p> + +<p>"Oh! that's all very well for you, Veezy +Vee!" cried poor Viola. "But if <i>you</i> had +on a silk waist, you would feel differently, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +know you would. And my hat simply <i>was</i> the +sweetest thing you ever saw; wasn't it, Tom? +Sugar was salt beside it; wasn't it, Tom?"</p> + +<p>Tom, who had been holding a consultation +with Phil over the broken rudder, answered +by a brief, though not unfriendly growl, and +paid no further attention to her. The painter +of his boat was made fast to the <i>Petrel's</i> stern, +and the latter was soon winging her way +toward the Camp, towing the disabled boat +behind her.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you Vincent of 1903?" asked Phil, +leaning over the stern, his hand on the tiller +and one eye on the clouds. "Thought so! +Used to see you about the yard. My name is +Merryweather; 1902."</p> + +<p>"Glad to know you!" said Tom Vincent. +"I thought it must be you; I used to see you +rowing, of course. Your brother—"</p> + +<p>He was interrupted by excited squeaks from +his sister, who was gazing at Phil with sparkling +eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No!" she cried. "It <i>can't</i> be! It would +be <i>too</i> delicious! <i>not</i> Merryweather! Don't +ask me to believe it, Peggy, for it simply +is beyond my powers. <i>Not</i> the Snowy's +brother!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed!" said Peggy, laughing as she, +too, leaned back over the stern. "Let me +introduce you; Mr. Philip Merryweather, +Miss Viola Vincent."</p> + +<p>"Awfully glad!" said Phil, making a motion +toward where his hat should have been. +"I've often heard my sister speak of you, +Miss Vincent."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Mr. Merryweather, I <i>adore</i> the +Snowy!" cried Viola. "She is simply the +dearest creature on the face of the earth. I +would give the wide world—I would give +my very best frill to see her. Don't tell me +she is near here, for I should expire with joy; +simply expire!"</p> + +<p>"I certainly will not," said Phil, smiling, +"if the consequences would really be so terrible,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +Miss Vincent. Otherwise, I might venture +to predict that you would see her in about ten +minutes. If you feel any untoward symptoms +developing, please consider it unsaid!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Tom, isn't it <i>too</i> thrilling?" cried +Viola. "Oh! Tom, aren't you perfectly <i>rigid</i> +with excitement? It makes Tom rigid, Mr. +Merryweather, and it makes me flutter; we +are so different. <i>Aren't</i> you rigid, Tommy?"</p> + +<p>"Viola, don't be a goose!" said her brother, +good-naturedly. "I am not in the least rigid, +though I shall be delighted to see Miss Merryweather, +of course."</p> + +<p>"You can see the camp now, through the +trees," said Phil. "There is the flag, just +over that tall pine. Flag by day; lantern by +night. That is 'Merryweather.' Ready +about, Peggy, for the last tack!"</p> + +<p>The squall had passed, and though the +water was still rough, the waves were tossing +merrily in blue and white under a brilliant +sun. The <i>Petrel</i> sped along, the silver foam<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +bubbling up before her prow, and the <i>Seamew</i>, +as the other boat was named, followed as +swiftly.</p> + +<p>Peggy leaned back over the stern once +more, and holding out her hand to her old +schoolmate, gave her slender fingers a squeeze +that made her cry out.</p> + +<p>"Dear old Vanity," said Peggy; "I forgot +how soft your hands always were. But I +am so glad to see you, even if I am not +going to expire about it. Do tell me how +you came here, and where you are staying, +and all about it, now that we can hear ourselves +speak."</p> + +<p>"How did I come here, my dear?" repeated +Viola Vincent. "Witchcraft!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, you foolish thing?"</p> + +<p>"My dear, what I say; simply that and nothing +more, just like the Raven. Witchcraft! +The very minute I get home, I am going to get +a pointed black hat and a red cloak, and a +crutch-stick. I think they will be quite sweet,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +don't you? Don't you think pointed hats are +quite sweet, Mr. Merryweather?"</p> + +<p>"Pointed hats," replied Phil, gravely, "have +always seemed to me the acme of sweetness; +that is why they call them sugar-loaf hats, I +suppose."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Mr. Merryweather, you <i>are</i> funny! +Oh, I <i>hoped</i> you were going to be funny," +cried Viola; "you <i>look</i> funny, and—"</p> + +<p>"Thank you!" said Phil; and "Viola, +don't be a goose!" said her brother again.</p> + +<p>"I mean it as a compliment!" cried Viola. +"Mr. Merryweather, I mean it as the very +highest compliment I can pay, I truly do. +With such a simply entrancing name as +Merryweather, it would be such a dreadful +pity to be sober as a judge, you know; +though the only judge I know is too frisky +for anything. Kittens, my dear, I—I mean, +Mr. Merryweather—I <i>beg</i> your pardon! are +actually <i>grim</i> beside Judge Gay; aren't they, +Tommy? Did you ever see a grim kitten,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +Mr. Merryweather? Wouldn't it be too horrid +for anything? Well, but what I meant +to say is, the only weeniest speck of a fault I +ever had to find with the Snowy—darling +thing!—was that she was a little bit—just +the tiniest winiest scrap—too serious. If +your name were Tombs, you know, or Graves, +or Scull,—I knew a girl named Scull,—of +course you would have to <i>be</i> serious to live up +to it; but when your name is Merryweather, +you ought to live up to <i>that</i>, and so I always +told the Snowy."</p> + +<p>"I am sure the Snowy was always jolly +enough," said Peggy, bluntly, "except when +you wanted to get into mischief, Vanity!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I <i>always</i> wanted to get into mischief," +replied Viola; "so that made it a +little hard for me, Peggy, you must admit it +did, especially when I adored the Snowy, and +couldn't bear to have her look grave at me. +Mr. Merryweather, when the Snowy looked +<i>really</i> grave at me, it froze my young blood,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +just like Hamlet's; didn't it, Peggy? I used +to go and sit on the radiator to get thawed +out, didn't I, Peggy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course," said Peggy, laughing. +"But all this time, Vanity, we have not +heard about the witchcraft that brought you +to this part of the world."</p> + +<p>"Oh! so you haven't. Well, now you +shall. You see I am eighteen this summer, +so Puppa said I should choose where we +should go, whether to the mountains, or to +Newport, or to this lake, where he knew of a +camp he could have. So I thought I would +say Newport, on account of my new frills; I +had some perfectly heavenly new frills, and +of course Newport is the best place to show +them. But just as I was going to <i>say</i> 'Newport,' +<i>something</i> made me turn right round +and say to come here. I supposed it was +partly because of course I knew Puppa hated +Newport, and he is such a perfect duck about +going there; but now I know that it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +witchcraft, and something inside me, black +cats or something, made me know, without +knowing anything about it, that you and the +Snowy were going to be here, Peggy. So +now I am perfectly happy! Oh! Oh! Why, +there <i>is</i> the Snowy! Oh, Snowy, you darling! +It's me! It's Vanity! How <i>do</i> you +do? Isn't this <i>too</i> perfectly entrancing for +anything!"</p> + +<p>With a graceful turn, Phil brought his +boat alongside the wharf, where a group of +campers, Gertrude among them, were gathered +to receive them. Gertrude had Viola in her +arms in a moment, and was welcoming her +with a warmth that made the emotional little +creature sob with real pleasure and affection.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Snowy!" she cried, "I always liked +you better than any one else, Snowy. I never +thought I was going to see you again."</p> + +<p>"My dear, dear little Viola!" cried Gertrude. +"Have you dropped from the clouds? +Why, this is too good to be true. But you are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +wet through! Come in this moment with me, +and get on dry things!"</p> + +<p>She hurried Viola away to the tents, and +Mr. Merryweather took possession of her +brother with the same hospitable intent, +though Tom Vincent protested that he was +"no wetter than was entirely comfortable."</p> + +<p>Phil, taking in his sail, turned an expressive +eye on his twin, who had come aboard +to help him.</p> + +<p>"Gee!" he said, thoughtfully. "A new +variety, Obadiah! Pollybirdia singularis, as +Edward Lear hath it."</p> + +<p>"She's mighty pretty!" said Gerald.</p> + +<p>"She is that!" said Phil.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>ABOUT VISITING</h3> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Good-by</span>, Tommy, dear. Be sure to tell +Mamma that I thought she would not mind +my staying, when Mrs. Merryweather was so +perfectly heavenly as to ask me. Be sure to +tell her that my skirt is <i>all</i> cockled up, so that +you could put it in your waistcoat pocket, +Tom; and that the <i>only</i> way to save it is to +press it <i>damp</i>, and let it <i>dry</i> before I put it +on. Tell her that I have got on a dress of +the Snowy's that is simply <i>divine</i>,—more becoming +than anything I ever had on; and +that my silk waist has run—oh, tell her it +has run <i>miles</i>, Tom, so that I can never—"</p> + +<p>"There, there, Vi!" cried Tom Vincent, +pushing his boat off. "<i>I</i> must run, before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +you swamp me entirely with messages. I'll +come back for you to-morrow, and bring your +toggery. Ever so many thanks, everybody. +You've been awfully good. I've had a corking +time. Good-by!"</p> + +<p>The sail filled, the boat swung round, and +was soon speeding along the lake, while her +owner still waved his cap and looked back to +the wharf, where the campers stood, giving +back his greeting with hearty good will.</p> + +<p>"Nice chap!" said Gerald to Phil.</p> + +<p>"Corker!" said Phil to Gerald.</p> + +<p>"Nor," added Gerald, turning to look after +the girls as they walked back along the slip, +"nor is the sororial adjunct totally devoid +of attraction. What thinkest, Fergy?"</p> + +<p>He shot a quick glance at his brother, and +seemed to await his reply with some eagerness.</p> + +<p>"I think she's as pretty as a picture," said +Phil, soberly.</p> + +<p>"You have a nose on your face, if it comes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +to that," said Gerald. "At least it passes for +one. <i>Weiter!</i>"</p> + +<p>"I think she's awfully jolly, and all that," +said Phil. "Nice, jolly, good-natured girl."</p> + +<p>"Granted; she's great fun."</p> + +<p>"But," Phil went on, slowly,—"oh, well! +you know what I mean. If our girls went +on like that, we should be under the painful +necessity of ducking them. Now, Peggy—"</p> + +<p>He paused and examined the mooring of +the boat, critically.</p> + +<p>"Now, Peggy," Gerald repeated, jogging +him with his elbow. "Always finish a sentence +when you can, son. It argues poverty +of invention to have to stop in the middle. +You can always fall back on 'tooral looral +lido,' if you can't think of anything else. +What about Peggy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing. Only she is just like the +rest of us, and that seems more natural; that's +all."</p> + +<p>"And 'beyond a doubt we are the people;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +and wisdom will perish with us,'" quoted +Gerald, his face brightening as he spoke. +"'Tis well. Come on, thou antiquated ape, +and let us pump out the float."</p> + +<p>Meantime the girls had sought their favorite +pine parlor, and were deep in talk. <i>High</i> +would be a more descriptive adjective; for +Viola Vincent was the principal talker, and +her shrill, clear treble quivered up to the very +tree-tops, startling the birds in their nests, +and sending the squirrels scampering to and +fro with excitement.</p> + +<p>"My dear, this is too delicious, simply <i>too!</i> +I should expire, if I lived here, of pure joy. +Oh, Snowy, what a darling you are! Your +nose is just as straight as ever, isn't it? +Rulers, my dear, are crooked beside it, aren't +they? If I had a straight nose, I should pass +away from sheer bliss. My nose turns up +more every year; it's the only aspiring thing +about me. Pothooks are straight by comparison. +Isn't it a calamity?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tiptilted like the petal of a flower," said +Gertrude, laughing. "I always thought your +nose one of your prettinesses, Vanity, and I +believe you think so, too."</p> + +<p>"Oh! my <i>dear</i>, how <i>can</i> you?" cried Viola, +caressing her little nose, which was certainly +piquant and pretty enough to please any one. +"You don't really mean it, do you? You +just say it to comfort me, don't you? You +<i>are</i> such a comforting darling! Where did +you get that heavenly shade of green, Snowy? +I never saw anything so lovely in my life. It +is just the color of jade. My dear, I saw +some jade bracelets the other day that were +simply <i>made</i> for you. I wanted to tear them +from the girl's arms, and say, 'What are you +doing with the Snowy's bracelets?' She was +a dump, with a complexion like Doctor Somebody +or other's liniment. A person who can +wear jade is simply the—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, come, Vanity!" said Peggy, good-naturedly. +"Come out of the millinery business,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +and tell us about yourself, and about the +other girls. What has become of Vex—of +Vivia Varnham?"</p> + +<p>"My dear! haven't you heard?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word! You have never written, you +know, since we left school, and she would not +be likely to."</p> + +<p>"You didn't love each other quite to distraction, +did you?" said Viola. "Poor V. V.! +she really was the limit sometimes, wasn't +she? I never minded her, of course, because I +never listened to what she said. Besides, she +was like pickles, you know; you just took her +with the rest of your dinner, and she didn't +make much difference. I used to tell her so. +Well, poor V. V.! You never could guess: +married, my dear!"</p> + +<p>"Married!" echoed Peggy and Gertrude.</p> + +<p>"Married! to a missionary; widower, with +four children. Gone to China! You need not +believe it unless you like; I don't believe it +myself, though I saw them married."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is hard to believe, Vi!" said Gertrude. +"How did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"My dear, <i>the</i> limit! positively, the boundary +line, arctic circle, and that sort of thing. +Love at first sight, on both sides. Spectacles, +bald,—not the spectacles, but he,—snuffy +to a degree! You really never <i>did!</i> I was the +first person she told. I simply screamed. +'My dear!' I said, 'you <i>cannot</i> mean it. You +could <i>not</i> live with that waistcoat!'</p> + +<p>"She told me I was frivolous—which I +never attempted to deny—and said I did not +understand, which was the truth. She looked +really quite sweet in her wedding-dress, and +when she went away she was quite softened, +she truly was, and wept a little weep, and so +did I. You see, Snowy, the very first thing I +can remember in my life is V. V.'s breaking +my doll over my head. I miss her dreadfully, +I do indeed; nobody has been—well, acidulated, +to me since she went, and I need the +tonic. And speaking of tonics, where is Beef?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +where is the Fluffy? You know"—turning +to Margaret—"I used to call the Snowy +and the Fluffy and the Horny my triple tonic, +Beef, Wine, and Iron; and the Fluffy was +Beef. Steady and square, you know, and red +and brown; exactly like beef; simply <i>no</i> difference +except the clothes. How is she, +Snowy?"</p> + +<p>"The Fluffy—Bertha Haughton, you know, +Margaret—is teaching in Blankton High +School; very busy, very happy, indeed, perfectly +absorbed in her work. I have a letter +from her in my pocket this minute, that came +last night. Would you like to hear it?"</p> + +<p>And amid a clamor of eager assent, she +drew out the letter and read as follows.</p> + +<p>"'Dear Snowy: It is good to hear about +all the jolly times at Camp. I wish I could +come, but see no way to it just now. Yes, I +know school is over, but there are the rank +lists to make out, and all kinds of odd end-of-the-year +chores to be done; besides, two of my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +boys have conditions to work out,—going to +college in the fall,—and I am tutoring them. +They are two of the dearest boys that ever were, +only not very bright, and I have promised to +stand by them.' This is the way she behaves, +after teaching all the year; she is incorrigible! +'All the others passed without conditions, +and three of them got honors, so I am very +proud and happy. This has been the best +year of all; but then, I say that every year, +don't I? I do feel more and more that I am +doing the thing in the whole world that I like +best to do.'</p> + +<p>"The rest is just messages, and so on; but +you see how happy she is, and how utterly +absorbed."</p> + +<p>"My dear, it is <i>too</i> amazing!" cried Viola +Vincent. "The very thought of teaching +makes me simply dissolve with terror; little +drops of water, my dear, would be all that +would be left of poor Vanity; not a grain of +sand to hold her together. Hush! let me tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +you something! Last year I tried to teach a +class in Sunday school,—great, terrible boys, +taller than I was,—and I <i>almost</i> expired, I +assure you I did. They never knew their +lessons, and two of them made eyes at me, +and the rest made faces at each other; it was +simply excruciating. Then the rector asked +me if I didn't think I could dress more simply; +said I set an example, and so on. I told him +I was dressed like a broomstick then, as far as +simplicity was concerned, and so I was, simply +and positively like a broomstick; only my +dress—it was a rose-colored foulard, <i>the</i> most +angelic shade you ever saw, girls; just like a +sunset cloud, somebody said—happened to +have ruffles to the waist, and ribbons fluttering +about more or less. He <i>said</i> I fluttered, +and I told him I certainly did. 'I always +flutter, Mr. Monk,' I said. 'When I don't +flutter, I shall be dead.' Which was true. +He was quite peevish, but I was firm; you +know you <i>have</i> to be firm about such things.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +Only, the next Sunday he happened to come +by when one of those great dreadful boys +asked me if Solomon's seal was tame, and I +said I didn't think it was. Well, I <i>didn't!</i> +But he wrote me a note next day, saying he +thought teaching was not my <i>forte</i>, and perhaps +I would like visiting better. I fully +agreed with him, so now I visit, and it is +simply dandy. I just love it!"</p> + +<p>"Tell us about your visiting, Vi!" said +Gertrude. "I am going to take it up next +winter, and I should like to know how you +do it."</p> + +<p>"My dear! Such sport! There are some +dear old ladies I go to see, perfect old ducks; +in a Home, you know. I go once a week, +and I put on <i>all</i> my frills, and never wear the +same dress twice if I can help it, and I tell +them all about the parties I go to, and what +I wear, and what my partners are like, and +about the suppers, and take them my German +favors, and they simply <i>love</i> it! Mr. Monk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +thinks it's terrible that I don't read them +tracts; my dear, they abominate tracts, and +so do I; we found that out at once. So I +read them the gayest, frilliest little stories +I can find, that are really <i>nice</i>, and they +<i>adore</i> it. One day—my <i>dears!</i> will you +promise never to breathe it if I tell you something? +never even to <i>sneeze</i> it?"</p> + +<p>"We promise! We promise!" cried all +the girls.</p> + +<p>"Well—hush! It was simply fierce; and +<i>the</i> greatest sport I ever had in my life. +There is one old lady in the Home who is too +perfectly sweet for anything. Miss Bathsheba +Barry; did you ever hear such a delicious +name? She is just my height, and as +pretty as a picture in her cap and kerchief. +They all wear caps and kerchiefs, and little +gray gowns, the most becoming costume you +ever saw; I am going into the Home the very +minute my looks begin to go, because I <i>do</i> look +quite—but wait! Hush! not a word! Well!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +I had been teasing Miss Barry for ever and +ever so long to let me dress up in her things, +because I knew they would suit me, and at +last, one day, the dear old thing consented. +It was the time for the matron's afternoon +visit, and she is very jolly, and I wanted to +surprise her. So I put on the little gray gown, +and the delicious cap, just like Rembrandt's +mother, and the white net kerchief—don't +you adore white net, Snowy? it softens the +face so!—and the apron; and then I went +and sat down in Miss Barry's chair by the +window, with her knitting, and put on her +spectacles—oh! how she did laugh. Then +we heard steps, and Miss Barry went +into the closet and shut the door all but +a crack to peep through, and I turned +my head away from the door, and knitted +away for dear life. Oh, girls! The door +opened, and I heard Mrs. Poddle say, 'This +way, gentlemen! This is Miss Barry's room.' +<i>Gentlemen!</i> My dears, I thought I should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +pass away! Then there came great, loud +men's steps, and I heard Mr. Monk's voice—'This +is one of our most interesting inmates, +Bishop! Eighty-seven years old, and as +sprightly as a girl. A most pious and +exemplary person. Good morning, Miss +Barry! How is your rheumatism to-day?'</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/gs07.jpg" width="500" height="371" alt=""'SIMPLY FIERCE, YOUR REVERENCE!' SAID I."" title=""'SIMPLY FIERCE, YOUR REVERENCE!' SAID I."" /> +<span class="caption">"'SIMPLY FIERCE, YOUR REVERENCE!' SAID I."</span> +</div> + +<p>"'Simply fierce, your reverence!' said I, in +a little squeaky voice, as like Miss Barry's as +I could make it. I kept my face turned +away, and pretended to be counting stitches +very hard.</p> + +<p>"'Ahem!' said Mr. Monk. I could hear +that he was surprised, for, of course, Miss +Barry wouldn't say 'simply fierce,' but it +slipped out before I knew it.</p> + +<p>"'Miss Barry,' he said, 'I have brought +Bishop Ballantyne to see you. I am sure you +will be glad to receive him.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, I should perfectly <i>love</i> to see the +Bishop!' I said; because Bishop Ballantyne +is simply a duck, an adorable duck; but still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +I did not turn round; and I could hear Miss +Barry squeaking with laughter in the closet, +and it was really getting quite awful. But +now Mr. Monk began to suspect something. +I believe he thought I had been drinking, or +rather that Miss Barry had, poor old dear. +He said, in a pretty awful voice: 'What +does this mean? Miss Barry, I desire that, if +you are unable to rise, you will at least turn +round, and receive Bishop Ballantyne in a +fitting manner. I cannot conceive—I must +beg you to believe, Bishop, that this has never +happened before. I am beyond measure distressed. +Miss Barry,—'</p> + +<p>"And then he stopped, for I turned round. +I had to, of course; there was nothing else +to do.</p> + +<p>"'How do you do, Bishop Ballantyne?' +I said. 'Can you tell me whether Solomon's +seal was tame or not?'</p> + +<p>"For a minute they both stared as if they +had seen a ghost; but then the Bishop went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +off into a great roar of laughter, and I +thought he would laugh himself into fits, and +me, too; and the more solemn Mr. Monk +looked, the more we laughed; and Miss Barry +was cackling like a hen in the closet—oh, it +was great, girls, it truly was! At last Mr. +Monk had to laugh too, he couldn't help it; +it was simply too utter, you know. He said +I was enough to break up an entire parish; +and the Bishop said he would take me into +his, cap and all. And then the matron came +back, and Miss Barry came out, and we all +stayed to tea, the Bishop and Mr. Monk and +I, and had the time of our lives; at least, I +did.</p> + +<p>"So you see, girls, visiting <i>can</i> be the greatest +sport in the world, if you only know how to +do it. But we all had to promise Mr. Monk +and Mrs. Poddle not to tell, because they said +it was enough to break up the discipline of the +Home, and I suppose it was."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>MOONLIGHT AGAIN</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> evening was showery, and indoor +games were the order of it. The first half-hour +after the dishes were washed (a task +performed to music, all hands joining in the +choruses of "John Peel," "Blow, ye winds of +morning," etc.) was spent quietly enough, +four of the party at parcheesi, the others busy +over crokinole and jackstraws; but by and by +there was a cry of "Boston!" and instantly +boards and counters were put away on their +shelf, and the decks cleared for action. The +whole party drew their chairs into a circle, +and the fun began. A pleasant sight it was +to see Mr. Merryweather blindfold in the middle +of the circle, calling out the numbers two +by two, and trying to catch the flitting figures<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +as they changed places. A pleasant sight it +was to see the young people leaping, crouching, +and gliding across the circle, avoiding his +outstretched arms with surprising agility.</p> + +<p>"Two and Fourteen!" he would cry; and +Gerald and Bell would slip from their places, +like shadows. Gerald was across in two long, +noiseless lopes, while Bell whisked under her +father's very hand, which almost closed on +her flying skirt; and a shout of "All over!" +greeted the accomplishment of the exchange.</p> + +<p>"This will never do!" said Mr. Merryweather. +"You all have quicksilver in your +heels, I believe. Seven and Twelve! Come +Seven, come Twelve!"</p> + +<p>Seven and Twelve were Jack Ferrers and +Peggy, and they came. Jack, gathering his +long legs under him, crept on all fours half-way +round the circle, and then made a plunge +for the chair which Peggy had just vacated. +He landed on the edge, and over went chair +and Jack into the fireplace with a resounding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +crash. This startled Peggy so that she ran +directly into Mr. Merryweather's arms, and +was caught and firmly held.</p> + +<p>"Let me see!" said Mr. Merryweather. +"One pigtail! But I believe all you wretched +girls dress your hair precisely alike for 'Boston.' +Ha! peculiar sleeve-buttons! Now +who has buttons like these? Peggy!"</p> + +<p>Then it was Peggy's turn to be blindfolded, +and a vigorous "<i>Colin Maillard</i>" she made, +flying hither and thither, and coming within +an ace of catching Gerald himself, who was +rarely caught. Finally she seized a flying +pigtail belonging to Kitty; and so the merry +game went on till all were out of breath with +running and laughing.</p> + +<p>Phil went to the door to breathe the cool +air, and came back with the announcement, +"All clear overhead, perfectly corking moonlight. +Why do we stay indoors?"</p> + +<p>"Canoes!" cried the younger Merryweathers; +and there was a rush for the door;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +but the Chief stopped them with a gesture. +"Too late!" he said. "It is nine o'clock +now; time you were in bed, Kitty."</p> + +<p>"We might sit on the float and sing a +little," suggested Mrs. Merryweather.</p> + +<p>"The float! The float!" shouted the boys +and girls. There was a snatching up of pillows +and wraps, and the whole family +trooped down to the float, where they established +themselves in a variety of picturesque +attitudes. Again it was a wonderful night; +the late moon was just rising above the dark +trees, no longer the full round, but still brilliant +enough to fill the world with light.</p> + +<p>"This has been a wonderful moon!" said +some one.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Gerald; "it is quite the last +thing in moons, not the ordinary article at +all. We don't have ordinary moons on this +pond. Who made that highly intellectual +remark?"</p> + +<p>"It was I," said Bell, laughing; "and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +maintain, Jerry, that this moon <i>has</i> been a +very long, and a very—well, a very splendid +one. Just think! not a single cloudy evening +till this one; and now it clears off in time +to give us our moonlight hour before bed-time."</p> + +<p>"The harvest moon is always long," said +Mr. Merryweather. "Bell is perfectly right, +Jerry."</p> + +<p>"Strike home!" said Gerald, baring his +breast with a dramatic gesture. "Strike +home!</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'There's no more moonlight for poor Uncle J.,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For he's gone whar de snubbed niggers go.'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"I was just going to propose singing," said +his mother; "but before we begin, suppose +we do honor to this good moon, that has +treated us so well. Let every one give a +quotation in her honor. I will begin:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'That orbèd maiden with white fire laden,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whom mortals call the moon,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">By the midnight breezes strewn.'</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>Shelley. I am a cloud, be it understood!"</div> + +<p>"I should hardly have guessed it," said Mr. +Merryweather. "My turn? I'll go back to +Milton:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"'Now glowed the firmament</span><br /> +With living sapphires; Hesperus, that led<br /> +The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon,<br /> +Rising in clouded majesty, at length<br /> +Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light,<br /> +And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.'"<br /> +</div> + +<p>"Oh, I say!" murmured Gerald; "that is +a peach!"</p> + +<p>"Jerry," said his mother, plaintively, "have +you <i>no</i> adjectives, my poor destitute child? I +can imagine few things less peach-like than +that glorious passage. But never mind! Jack, +it is your turn."</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'The gray sea and the long black land,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And the yellow half-moon large and low—'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>said Jack, half under his breath.</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>"It isn't yellow, and it isn't half," said +Gerald. "But never mind, as the Mater says. +Margaret, you come next."</p> + +<p>Margaret looked up, her face full of tranquil +happiness.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking," she said, "of some lines +from 'Evangeline,' that I have always loved. +I say them over to myself every night in this +wonderful moon-time:</p> + +<div class='poem2'> +"'Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall of the forest,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. On the river</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous gleam of the moonlight,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious spirit.'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Peggy, what have you for us?" asked +Mrs. Merryweather.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried poor Peggy, "you know I +never can remember poetry, Mrs. Merryweather. +I shall have to take to 'Mother +Goose.' I know I am terribly prosy—well,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +prosaic, then, Margaret; what's the difference? +But I can't think of anything except:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'The Man in the Moon<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Came down too soon,'—</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>and that doesn't go with all these lovely +things you have all been saying."</div> + +<p>"It gives me mine, though!" said Phil. +And he sang, merrily:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'The Man in the Moon was looking down,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With winking and with blinking frown,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And stars beamed out bright</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To look on the night;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Man in the Moon was looking!'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Phil!" cried Gertrude. "How can you? +Comic opera is an insult to a moon like this."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed!" said her brother. "Sorry +I spoke. Next time I'll sing it to some other +moon,—one of Jupiter's; or the brick one in +Doctor Hale's story. Go on, Toots, since +you are so superior. It's your turn."</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That tips with silver all the fruit-tree tops,'"</span><br /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> + +<div class='unindent'>said Gertrude. "I can't remember the next +line."</div> + +<p>"What I miss in this game," said Gerald, +in a critical tone, "is accuracy. There isn't +a fruit-tree on the Point."</p> + +<p>"And the moon, of course, limits herself +strictly to the point!" said Gertrude, laughing.</p> + +<p>"It's more than you do!" retorted her +brother. "But a truce to badinage! I go +back to prose and 'Happy Thoughts.' 'I say +"O moon!" rapturously, but nothing comes +of it.'"</p> + +<p>"But something shall come of it this time, +Jerry," said his mother. "Perhaps we have +had enough quotations now. Give us the +'Gipsy Song.'"</p> + +<p>Nothing loth, Gerald sang the wild, beautiful +song, his sisters humming the accompaniment. +Then one song and another was +called for, and the night rang with ballad +and barcarole, glee and round. There never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +seemed to be any limit to the Merryweather +repertoire.</p> + +<p>Presently Bell whispered to Gertrude; the +latter passed the whisper on to Margaret and +Peggy. Silently all four girls rose and slipped +away, with a word breathed into Mrs. Merryweather's +ear, begging her to keep up the +singing.</p> + +<p>"Where are the girls going?" asked their +father.</p> + +<p>"They will be back in a moment," said +Mrs. Merryweather. "Give us 'Prinz Eugen,' +boys; all of you together!"</p> + +<p>And out rolled, in booming bass and silvery +tenor, the glorious old camp song of the German +wars:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Prinz Eugen, der edle Ritter,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Woll't dem Kaiser wied'rum kriegen</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stadt und Festung Belgerad."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>This was a favorite song of the Merryweather +boys, and they never knew which +verse to leave out, so they generally sang all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +nine of them. They did so this time, and +finally ended with a prolonged roar of:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Liess ihm bringen recht zu Peterwardein."<br /> +</div> + +<p>A moment of silence followed. Indeed, +none of the singers had any breath left.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'And silence like a poultice falls,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To heal the blows of sound!'"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='unindent'>quoted Mr. Merryweather. "Hark! what is +that?"</div> + +<p>Again the sound of singing was heard. +This time it came from the direction of the +tents. Girl's voices, thrilling clear and sweet +on the stillness. The air was even more familiar +than that of "Prinz Eugen," one of +the sweetest airs that ever echoed to moonlight +and the night:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Dass ich so traurig bin;"—</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>The girls came singing out into the moonlight, +hand in hand. They were in bathing-dress;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +their long hair floated over their +shoulders; their white arms shone in the white +light. Instead of coming back to the float, +they plunged into the water, and swam, still +singing, to a rock that reared a great rounded +back from the water. Up on this rock they +climbed, and sat them down, shaking off the +water in diamond spray; and still their voices +rang out, clear and thrilling on the quiet +air:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Die schönste Jungfrau sitzet<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Dort oben wunderbar;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Ihr goldnes Geschmeide blitzet,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Sie kämmt ihr goldenes Haar."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Gee!" muttered Gerald to himself.</p> + +<p>"Pretty!" said Mr. Merryweather, taking +his pipe from between his teeth. "Miranda, +I don't know that I ever saw anything much +prettier than that."</p> + +<p>His wife made no reply, but her eyes spoke +for her. None of the lads could look more +eagerly or more joyfully at that lovely picture.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +Were not two of the maidens her very +own?</p> + +<p>Gertrude was facing them as she sang. Her +red-gold hair fell like a mantle of glory about +her, far below her waist; her arms, clasped +behind her head, were like carved ivory; her +face was lifted, and the moon shone full on +its pure outlines and candid brow. Bell's rosy +face was partly in shadow, but her noble voice +floated out rich and strong, filling the air with +melody. There was no possibility of doubt, to +Mrs. Merryweather's mind, which two of +the quartette were most attractive. Yet +when she said softly to the son who happened +to be next her: "Aren't they lovely, Jerry?" +he answered, abstractedly, "Isn't she!" and +his eyes were fixed, not on stately Gertrude, +or stalwart Bell, but on a slender figure between +them, that clung timidly to the rock, +one hand clasped in Peggy's. Also, it is to +be noted that, when the song was over, and +Peggy made an exceptionally clean and graceful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +dive off the rock, Phil exclaimed, "Jove! +that was a corker!" to which John Ferrers +replied, "Yes; the sweetest contralto I ever +heard."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"I never heard you sing better than you did +last night," said Jack to Bell. It was next +morning, and he was stirring the porridge industriously, +while she mixed the johnny-cake.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/gs08.jpg" width="500" height="371" alt=""HE WAS STIRRING THE PORRIDGE INDUSTRIOUSLY, WHILE SHE MIXED THE JOHNNY-CAKE."" title=""HE WAS STIRRING THE PORRIDGE INDUSTRIOUSLY, WHILE SHE MIXED THE JOHNNY-CAKE."" /> +<span class="caption">"HE WAS STIRRING THE PORRIDGE INDUSTRIOUSLY, WHILE SHE MIXED THE JOHNNY-CAKE."</span> +</div> + +<p>"So glad!" said Bell, simply. "I aim to +please. I'd put in a little more water, Jack, +if I were you; it's getting too stiff."</p> + +<p>Jack poured in the water, and stirred for +some minutes in silence. Presently he said: +"I heard from those people last night."</p> + +<p>"From the Conservatory? Oh, Jack! do +tell me! I have been thinking so much +about it. Is it all right?"</p> + +<p>"I think so," said Jack, slowly. "They +offer me two thousand, and there is an excellent +chance for private pupils besides; I +have decided to accept it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Jack, how splendid! Oh, I am so +glad! I knew it would come—the chance—if +you only had patience, and you surely +have had it. How happy Hilda will be!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jack, soberly. "I owe it to +Hilda, every bit of it, as I owe several other +things. This, for example."</p> + +<p>"This?" repeated Bell. "Meaning the +porridge?"</p> + +<p>She spoke lightly, yet there was an undertone +of feeling in her voice.</p> + +<p>"The porridge, and all the rest of it," said +Jack. "The place, the life, the friends, the +happiness, and—you—all!"</p> + +<p>It might have been noted that the "all" +was added after a moment's pause, as if it +were an afterthought.</p> + +<p>"Dear Hilda!" said Bell, softly. "We all +owe her a very great deal."</p> + +<p>"If it had not been for Hildegarde +Grahame," said Jack, "I should have grown +up a savage."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh! no, you would not, Jack."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I should, Bell. When I first came +to Roseholme, I was just at the critical time. +I adored my father, who was an angel,—too +much of one to understand a mere human +boy. I came to please him, and at first I +didn't get hold of Uncle Tom at all, nor he +of me. He thought me an ass,—well, he +was right enough there,—and I thought him +a bear and a brute. I was on the point of +running away and starting out on my own +account, my fiddle and I against the world, +when I met Hilda, and she changed life from +an enemy into a friend."</p> + +<p>Bell was silent for a moment; then, "I +have often wondered—" she said, and broke +off short.</p> + +<p>"So have I!" said Jack. "I don't know +now why I didn't. Yes, I do, too."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Bell, her eyes on her +mixing-bowl.</p> + +<p>"It's hard to put it into words," said Jack,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +with a queer little laugh. "I suppose I felt +that I never should have had a chance; but—but +yet, I am not sure that I should not +have tried my luck, even then, if—if something +else had not happened to me."</p> + +<p>Bell asked no more questions: the johnny-cake +seemed to be at a critical point; she +stirred assiduously, and Jack, turning to look +at her, could see only the tip of a very rosy +little ear under the brown, clustering hair.</p> + +<p>There was another silence, broken only by +the singing of the teakettle and the soft, +thick "hub-bubble" of the boiling porridge.</p> + +<p>"Bell!" said Jack, presently.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Jack."</p> + +<p>"I had another letter last night, that I +haven't told you about yet."</p> + +<p>"From Hilda?"</p> + +<p>"No. From the manager of the Arion +Quartette. They want me to go on a tour +with them in the autumn, before the Conservatory<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +opens. It's a great chance, and +they offer me twice what I am worth."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jack!" cried Bell, turning her face, +shining with pleasure, full on him. "How +glorious! how perfectly glorious! Oh! this +is great news indeed."</p> + +<p>"There is only one difficulty," said Jack. +"I have to provide my own accompanist."</p> + +<p>"But you can easily do that!" said Bell.</p> + +<p>"Can I?" cried Jack Ferrers, dropping +the porridge spoon and coming forward, his +two hands held out, his brown face in a glow. +"Can I, Bell? There is only one accompanist +in the world for me, and I want her +for life. Can I have her, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jack!" cried Bell, and another spoon +was dropped.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Children, you are letting that porridge +burn!" cried Mrs. Merryweather, as she +hurried into the kitchen a few minutes +later.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Mammy, I am so sorry!" said Bell, +looking up,</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"All kind o' smily round the lips,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And teary round the lashes."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Oh, Mammy, I am so glad!" cried Jack +Ferrers; and without more ado he kissed +Mrs. Merryweather. "I like burnt porridge!" +said this young gentleman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>CONCERNING VARIOUS THINGS</h3> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Where</span> are you going, Margaret?" asked +Willy.</p> + +<p>"Up to the farm. Bell lost one of her +knitting-needles, and thought she might have +dropped it there; she is up there now, hunting +for it, and here it was in my tent all the +time. Would you like to come with me, +Willy?"</p> + +<p>Willy twinkled with pleasure, and fell into +step beside her, and the two walked along the +pleasant grassy road through the fields, talking +busily. They had become great friends, +and Willy was never tired of hearing about +Basil, who, he declared, "must certainly be +a corker."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he is, Willy," said Margaret,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +with resignation. "There seems nothing else +for any nice person to be. Did I tell you +how brave he was when a great savage dog +attacked our poor puppies? Oh, you must +hear that."</p> + +<p>The recital of Basil's heroism lasted till +they reached the farmhouse, both in a state +of high enthusiasm, and Willy filled with +ardent longings for attacks by savage dogs, +that he might show qualities equal to those +of the youthful hero. (N. B. Basil, honest, +freckled, and practical, would have been much +surprised to hear himself held up as a youthful +embodiment of Bayard and the Cid in one.)</p> + +<p>"I'll wait for you out here, Margaret," he +said, when they came to the door. "No, +I don't want to come in; they will tell me +how I've grown, and I do get so tired of it. +I'll sit on the fence and think; I like to +think."</p> + +<p>Margaret nodded sympathetically and went +in. The door opened directly into a wide,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +sunny kitchen, as bright as sunshine and +cleanliness could make it. An elderly woman +was standing before a great wheel, spinning +wool; beside her, Bell, Gertrude, and Peggy +stood watching with absorbed attention. All +looked up at Margaret's entrance, and the +woman, who had a kind, strong face and +sweet brown eyes, laid down her shuttle with +a smile of welcome.</p> + +<p>"I want to know if this is you," she said. +"You're quite a stranger, ain't you? I kind +o' looked for you when the gals come in."</p> + +<p>"I meant to come, Mrs. Meadows, I truly +did; but I was tidying up the tent, and I am +so slow about it."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Meadows," said Peggy, laughing, +"she wipes every nail-head three times a day, +and goes over the whole with a microscope +when she has finished, to see if she can find +a speck of dust."</p> + +<p>"Doos she so?" inquired Mrs. Meadows. +"I don't hardly dare to ask her to set down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +in this room, then. What with the wool +flyin' and all, it's a sight, most times."</p> + +<p>"Now, Mrs. Meadows!" exclaimed Gertrude. +"When you know you are almost as +particular as she is! But, Margaret, do you +see what we are doing? We are having a +spinning lesson. It is <i>so</i> exciting! Come +and watch."</p> + +<p>"I came to bring your knitting-needle," +said Margaret. "Look! it was in my tent, +just the end of it sticking out of a crack in +the floor. If I had not tidied up, in the way +you reprobate, Bell, you might never have +got it again."</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes, somebody would have stepped +on it," laughed Bell. "But I confess I am +very grateful for this special attack of tidying. +Now, Mrs. Meadows, I shall be all +ready for that new yarn as soon as you have +it spun."</p> + +<p>"My land! don't you want I should color +it? I was callatin' to color all this lot."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, I like this gray mixture so much; +it is just the color for the boys' stockings. +By the way, have you seen the boys, Mrs. +Meadows? I was looking for them everywhere +before I came up."</p> + +<p>"Let me see, where did I see them boys?" +Mrs. Meadows pondered, drawing the yarn +slowly through her fingers. "Gerild and +Phillup, you mean? They passed through +the yard right after dinner, I should say it +was, on their velocipedies; going at a great +rate, they was. Here's Jacob, mebbe he'll +know."</p> + +<p>Jacob, massive and comely, in his customary +blue overalls, entered, beaming shyly. +"Good mornin', ladies!" he said. "Mother +treatin' you well?"</p> + +<p>"Very well, Jacob!" said Bell. "We are +having a spinning lesson, and find it very +interesting."</p> + +<p>"I want to know. Well, I allers got on +without that branch of edication myself,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +said Jacob. He was standing near the door, +and the girls noticed that he kept his hands +behind him.</p> + +<p>"Mother, ain't you give the girls no +apples?" he said.</p> + +<p>"There!" cried Mrs. Meadows, apologetically. +"I never thought on't."</p> + +<p>"Now, ain't that a sight!" said Jacob, reprovingly. +"I thought I could trust you not +to let 'em starve, mother, but yet someways +I felt I ought to bring the apples myself. I +dono's they're fit to eat, though."</p> + +<p>Still beaming shy benevolence, he brought +from behind him a basket of beautiful rosy +apples, every one of which had evidently been +polished with care—and the sleeve of his +coat.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what perfect beauties!" cried the +girls. "Oh, thank you, Jacob!"</p> + +<p>"What kind are they?" asked Peggy. +"They <i>are</i> good!" Peggy never lost a moment +in sampling an apple, and her teeth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +now met in the firm, crisp flesh with every +sign of approval.</p> + +<p>"Benoni! about the best fall apple there +is, round these parts; that is, for any one as +likes 'em crips. Some prefer a sweet apple, +but I like a fruit that's got some sperit in it, +same as I do folks. Well, I wish you all +good appetite; I must be goin' back to my +hoein' lesson, I guess."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Jacob, have you seen Jerry and Phil, +lately?" asked Gertrude.</p> + +<p>"No, I ain't. Yes I hev, too. They went +rocketin' past me this noon, and give me +some sarse as they went, and I give it 'em +back. I ain't seen 'em sence. They're up to +mischief, wherever they be, you can count on +that."</p> + +<p>Jacob diffused his smile again, and withdrew. +The girls, still eating their apples, +turned eagerly to Mrs. Meadows. "Now, Mrs. +Meadows," they said, "we must go on +with our lesson. Margaret, sit down and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +learn with us; you know you want to +learn."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I do!" said Margaret. "But I +don't think I'd better now, girls. Willy came +up with me, and he is waiting for me outside; +I promised to look at a nest he has found, +and I don't like to disappoint him. May +I come some other day, please, Mrs. +Meadows?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess you may!" said Mrs. +Meadows. "Sorry to have ye go now, but +glad to see ye next time, and so you'll find it +nine days in the week, Miss Montfort. Good +day to ye, if ye must go."</p> + +<p>Margaret shook the good woman's hand, +nodded gaily to the girls, and went out, to +find Willy sitting patiently on the fence.</p> + +<p>"Was I a very long time, Willy?" she +asked. "I thought you might have got out +of patience and gone home."</p> + +<p>"No!" said Willy, soberly. "You were a +good while, but then, girls always are. When<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +a fellow has sisters, you know, he gets used +to waiting."</p> + +<p>"Oh! indeed!" said Margaret, much +amused.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Willy. "I don't think girls +have much idea of time, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Willy, I don't know that I have +ever considered the question. You see, I +have always been a girl myself, so perhaps +I am not qualified to judge. But—do you +think boys have so very much more idea? +It seems to me I know some one who has +been late for tea several times this week."</p> + +<p>Willy looked conscious. "Well," he said, +"I know; but that is different. When you +are late for tea,—I mean when a boy is,—he +is generally doing something that he wants +very much indeed to get through with, fishing, +or splicing a bat, or something that +really has to be done. Besides, he knows +they won't wait tea for him, so it doesn't +make any difference."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I see!" said Margaret. "And girls are +never doing anything important. Aren't you +rather severe on us, Willy?"</p> + +<p>Willy was about to reassure her kindly, for +he was extremely fond of her; but at this +moment a cheery "Hallo!" was heard, and +the twins rode up on their bicycles, bright-eyed +and flushed after a fine spurt.</p> + +<p>"Neck and neck!" said Gerald. "Margaret, +I hope you don't object to being a +winning-post. That was a great run."</p> + +<p>"Where have you been?" asked Margaret, +as the two dismounted and walked along on +either side of her.</p> + +<p>"Over to the Corners, to send a telegram +for the Pater. And thereby hangs a tale."</p> + +<p>"May we hear it? We love a tale, don't +we, Willy?"</p> + +<p>Willy did not look particularly enthusiastic, +but he murmured something, which Gerald +did not wait to hear.</p> + +<p>"Well, the Pater desired to send a telegram,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +even winged words, to that man who has +been trying to send us shellac for the last +three weeks, and who has, we fear, broken +down from the strain. A neat despatch it +was: 'Send to-morrow, or not at all.—M. +Merryweather.' Well, we had just sent it, +when we heard some one behind us say, '<i>Oh</i>, +gosh!' in a tone of such despair that we +turned round to see if it was the shellac man +in person. It was little Bean, the pitcher of +the Corners team, all dressed up in his baseball +togs, scarlet breeches and blue shirt, +quite the bird of paradise, and reading a yellow +telegram, and his face black as thunder. +He was an impressionist study, wasn't he, +Fergy? We asked what was up, or rather +down, for elevation had no part in him. It +appeared that a match was on for this afternoon, +between the Baked Beans and the +Sweet Peas, the Corners and the Spruce Point +team. The Beans were all here except the +pitcher and first-baseman, brothers, who were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +to come over by themselves, as they lived at +some distance from the rest of the team; and +this telegram conveyed the cheering information, +that, instead of coming over, they had +come down with mumps, and were, in point +of fact, in their little beds."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a shame!" said Margaret. +"Poor lads! and mumps are such a distressing +thing."</p> + +<p>"I rejoice to see that you also get your +singular and plural mixed in regard to +mumps," said Gerald. "You are human, +after all. But to tell the truth, I don't know +that sympathy with the mumpers was the +prevailing sentiment at the Corners."</p> + +<p>"Gee! I should think not," said Phil. +"This was the match of the season, you see, +Margaret. The farmers had come from far +and near, and brought their wives and babies; +and the Corner fellows had got this gorgeous +uniform made, and bought out all the +red flannel in the county; and here were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +these two wretched chumps down with +mumps."</p> + +<p>"Oh! but Phil," cried Margaret, "they +didn't do it on purpose, poor things; and +think how they were suffering! You are +heartless, I think."</p> + +<p>"They would have suffered more if the +Baked Beans had got hold of them," said +Phil, with a grin; "or the other fellows +either, for that matter. But as it turned out, +it was the best thing that could have happened +for the Beans. He wasn't much of a +pitcher."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Willy, beginning +to be interested. "Did they get +another pitcher?"</p> + +<p>"Did they? Well, I should remark! I let +on in a casual way that the former pitcher of +a certain college team was not more than a +hundred miles from the spot at that moment. +You should have seen that fellow's face, Margaret. +It really was a study. Perfect bewilderment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +for a minute, and then—well, I +believe he would have gone down on all fours +and carried Jerry to the field if he would not +have gone in any other way."</p> + +<p>"Oh! please, Phil. I am bewildered, too. +Is Gerald a—a pitcher?"</p> + +<p>"Is he? My child, he is the great original +North American jug."</p> + +<p>"Oh, pooh!" said Gerald. "Don't be an +ass, Ferguson! You are as good a first-baseman +as I am pitcher, any day. Of course we +were glad to help them out, though I drew +the line at scarlet breeches. My mother's +angry shade hovered above me and forbade.</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"'Go fight in fortune's deepest ditches,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But oh, avoid the scarlet breeches!'</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>I could hear her say it. So I told him that +my hair and my temper were the only red I +ever wore, and he submitted, though sadly. +So we played; and it was a great game. And +we smote them hip and thigh, even to the +going down of the sun; or would have, if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +the day had been shorter. Phil made three +runs, Will."</p> + +<p>"Jerry made three more Will," said Phil; +"and pitched like one o'clock, I tell you. I +never saw you play better, Obadiah. Those +last balls were perfect peaches. I wish you +had seen the game, Margaret."</p> + +<p>"So do I," said Margaret. "I have never +seen a game of baseball."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I say!" cried Phil and Willy. "What +a shame!"</p> + +<p>"Where do you live?" asked Willy, in such +open wonder and commiseration that the +others all laughed.</p> + +<p>"She lives in an enchanted castle, Willy," +said Gerald; "with a magician who keeps +her in chains—of roses and pearls. He has +two attendant spirits who help to keep her in +durance that is not precisely vile. How is +Mrs. Cook, Margaret? Do you know, you +have hardly told me anything about Fernley +all this time? I want to know ever so many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +things. What became of the pretty lady whose +house was burned? Do you remember that? +I never shall forget it as long as I live."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I do!" said Margaret, blushing. +"She is still abroad, Gerald. I doubt if she +ever returns, or at least not for a long time. +She is well, and really happy, I think. Isn't +it wonderful?"</p> + +<p>"You didn't see Miss Wolfe come down the +ladder!" said Gerald. "That was the most +wonderful thing I ever saw. Just as she +stepped out on the window-sill, the fire caught +the hem of her skirt. I thought she was gone +that time. I was just going to drop you and +run, when she stooped and squeezed the skirts +together—woollen skirts, fortunately—and +put it out; and then came swinging down +that rope to the ladder, and down the ladder +to the ground, as if she had been born in a +circus. I tell you, that was something to see. +Pity you missed it."</p> + +<p>"Why did she miss it?" asked Willy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +"And what do you mean by dropping her, +Jerry?"</p> + +<p>Gerald, whose eyes were shining with the +excitement of recollection, turned and looked +down at his small brother as if suddenly recalling +his existence.</p> + +<p>"Margaret was—busy!" he said, briefly. +"And, I say, Father William, don't you want +to take my biky down and give him a feed +of oats? he is hungry. See him paw the +ground!" and he gave the bicycle a twirl.</p> + +<p>"I must go," said Phil, remounting his +own. "Come along, Willy, and I'll race you +to Camp."</p> + +<p>But for once Willy held back. "I was +going to take Margaret to see a redwing's +nest," he said. "I promised her I would."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Margaret will excuse you," said Phil. +"Won't you, Margaret? Redwings' nests always +look better in the morning, besides. +Come on, boy, and I'll tell you all about the +game."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<p>Willy still hesitated, looking at Margaret; +and she in her turn hesitated, blushing rosy +red. "Don't let me keep you, Willy dear," +she said. "If you would like to hear about +the game—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Go on</i>, young un!" said Gerald, in a tone +of decision so unlike his usual bantering way, +that Willy stared, then yielded; and slowly +mounting the bicycle, started off with Phil +along the road.</p> + +<p>They rode for some time in silence, Phil +being apparently lost in thought.</p> + +<p>"Well!" said Willy at last, in an injured +tone.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it, Belted Will?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you were going to tell me about +the game," said Willy, moodily. "I say, +Phil! I think it was awfully rude of you and +Jerry to yank me off that way, when I had +promised Margaret to take her somewhere, +and we were going straight there when +you came along and broke in. I don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +think that's any kind of way to do, and +I am sure Ma would say so, too. What +do you suppose Margaret thinks of me +now?"</p> + +<p>"Ri tum ti tum ti tido!" carolled Phil. +"What do I suppose she thinks of you, Belted +One? Why, she thinks you are one of the +nicest boys she ever saw; and so you are, +when not in doleful dumps. See here, old +chap! you'll be older before you are younger, +and some day you will know a hawk from a +handsaw, <i>or</i> hernshaw, according to which +reading of 'Hamlet' you prefer. And now +as to this game!"</p> + +<p>He plunged into a detailed account of the +great match, and soon Willy's eyes were sparkling, +and his cheeks glowing, and he had forgotten +all about Margaret and the redwing's +nest.</p> + +<p>But as they crested the hill, which on the +other side dipped down to the camp, Phil +glanced back along the road. Margaret and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +Gerald were walking slowly, deep in talk, and +did not see the wave of his hand. "Heigh, +ho!" said Phil; but he smiled even while he +sighed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>ON THE DOWN</h3> + + +<p><span class="smcap">One</span> afternoon, when most of the campers +were off fishing, Margaret wandered alone up +to the top of the great down behind the camp. +Thoroughly in love with the camp life as she +was, in most of its aspects, she could not learn +to care for fishing. To sit three, four, five +hours in a boat, on the chance of killing a +harmless and beautiful creature, did not, she +protested, appeal to her; and many a lively +argument had she had on the subject with +Bell and Gertrude, who were ardent fisher-maidens.</p> + +<p>"But, Margaret, it is the sport!" Bell +would cry. "It isn't just killing, it is +sport!"</p> + +<p>"But, Bell, if the sport does not amuse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +me!" Margaret would answer. "If I want +to kill something, I would rather kill spiders, +though I am trying not to be so afraid of +them—or mosquitoes."</p> + +<p>Then the girls would cry out that she was +hopeless, and would gather up their reels and +rods and leave her to her own peaceful devices, +having even the generosity not to twit +her with inconsistency when she enjoyed her +delicately-fried perch at supper.</p> + +<p>These solitary afternoons were sure to be +pleasant ones for Margaret. She loved the +merry companionship of the campers, but she +loved, too, to wander through the woods, +among the great straight-stemmed pines and +dark feathery hemlocks, or to track the little +clear brook through its windings, from the +great bog to its outlet into the lake; or, as +now, to stroll about over the great down, looking +down on the blue water below.</p> + +<p>It was a perfect afternoon. Little white +clouds drifted here and there over the tops of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +the wooded hills, but they only made the sky +more deeply and intensely blue. There was +just enough breeze to ripple the water so that +it caught every sunbeam, and set it dancing +on the tremulous surface. Below her a fish-hawk +poised and dipped, seeking his dinner; +far out, two black specks showed where her +friends were at their "sport." Margaret drew +a long breath of content.</p> + +<p>"Oh, pleasant place!" she said. "How +glad I am that I am not in that boat. Oh, +pleasant place!"</p> + +<p>She looked about her with happy eyes. +Before her, the earth fell away in an abrupt +descent to the lake, steep enough to be dignified +by the name of precipice; but behind +and on either hand it rolled away in billowy +slopes of green, crowned here and there with +patches of wood, and crossed by irregular lines +of stone wall.</p> + +<p>"Oh, pleasant place!" said Margaret a +third time. "How many beautiful places I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +know! What a wonderful world of beauty it +is!"</p> + +<p>Her mind went back to Fernley House, the +beloved home where she lived with her uncle +John Montfort: to the rose-garden, where +they loved to work together, the sunny lawns, +the shady alleys of box and laurel, the arbors +of honeysuckle and grape-vine. She could +almost see the beloved uncle, pruning-knife in +hand, bending over his roses; if only he did +not cut back the Ramblers too far! She could +almost see her little cousins, her children, as +she called them, Basil and Susan D., running +about with their butterfly-nets, shouting and +calling to each other. Did they think of her, +as she hourly thought of them? Did Uncle +John miss her? She must always miss him, +no matter how happy she might be with other +friends. A wave of homesickness ran through +her, and brought the quick tears to her eyes; +but she brushed them away with an indignant +little shake of her head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Goose!" she said. "When will you learn +that it is a physical impossibility to be in two +places at once? You don't want to leave this +beautiful place and these dear people yet? Of +course, you don't! Well, then, don't behave +so! But all the same, it would be good to +hear Uncle John's voice!"</p> + +<p>At this moment she heard,—not the beloved +voice for which she longed,—but certainly +a sound, breaking the stillness of the +afternoon; a sound made neither by wind nor +water. It did not sound like a bird, either; +nor—a beast?</p> + +<p>"Oh, to be sure!" thought Margaret. "It +may be a sheep. I saw the flock up there this +morning. Of course, it is a sheep."</p> + +<p>The sound came again, louder this time, and +nearer; something between a snorting and a +blowing; it must be a very large sheep to +make such a loud noise.</p> + +<p>Margaret turned to look behind her; but it +was not a sheep that she saw.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<p>Just behind the rock on which she was sitting +the land rose in a high, green shoulder, +on the farther side of which it sloped gradually +down to a little valley. Over this shoulder +now appeared—a head! A head five times +as big as that of the biggest sheep that ever +bore fleece; a head crowned by long, sharp, +dangerous-looking horns. And now, as Margaret +sat transfixed with terror, another head +appeared, and another, and still another; till +a whole herd of cattle stood on the ridge +looking down at her.</p> + +<p>Jet black, of colossal size, with gleaming +eyes and quivering nostrils, they were formidable +creatures to any eyes; but to poor +Margaret's they were monsters as terrible as +griffin or dragon. All cattle, even the mildest +old Brindle that ever stood to be milked, were +objects of dire alarm to her, but she had never +seen animals like these. Tales of the wild +cattle of Chillingham, of the fierce herds that +roam the Western prairies and the pampas<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +of the South, rushed to her mind. She felt +fear stealing over her, a wild, unreasoning +panic which neither strength nor reason could +resist. She dared not move; she dared not +cry out for help; indeed, who was there to +hear if she did cry? She sat still on her rock, +her hands clasped together, her eyes, wide with +terror, fixed on the enemy.</p> + +<p>The leader of the herd met her gaze with +one which to her excited fancy seemed threatening +and sinister. For a moment he stood +motionless; then, tossing his head with its +gleaming horns, and uttering another loud +snort, he took a step toward her; the rest followed. +Another step and another. Margaret +glanced wildly around her. On one side was +the precipice, on either hand a wide stretch of +open meadow; no hope of escape. She must +meet her death here, then, alone, with no human +eye to see, no human hand to help her in +her extremity. She crouched down on the +rock, and covered her eyes with her hands.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +The cattle drew nearer. Snuffing the air, tossing +their horns, with outstretched necks and +eager eyes, step by step they advanced. Now +they were close about her, their giant forms +blocking the sunlight, their gleaming eyes +fixed upon her. Margaret felt her senses deserting +her; but suddenly—hark! another +sound fell on her ear; a sound clear, resonant, +jubilant; the sound of a human voice, +singing:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"I'm an honest lad, though I be poor,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And I niver was in love afore—"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"<i>Gerald!</i>" cried Margaret. "Gerald, +help!" and she dropped quietly off the rock, +under the very feet of the black cattle.</p> + +<p>When she came to herself, she was propped +against the rock, and Gerald was fanning her +with his cap and gazing at her with eyes of +anxiety and tenderness, which yet had a +twinkle in their depths.</p> + +<p>"Better?" he asked, as he had asked once<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +before under somewhat similar circumstances. +"Do say you are better, please! The house +isn't on fire this time, and neither is the +Thames."</p> + +<p>Margaret struggled into a sitting posture. +"Oh! Gerald," she said, "I am so ashamed! +You will think I am always fainting, and, +indeed, I never have in all my life except +these two times. But they were so terrible—ah! +there they are still."</p> + +<p>Indeed, the herd of cattle was standing +near, still gazing with gleaming eyes; but, +somehow, the look of ferocity was gone. She +could even see—with Gerald beside her—that +they were noble-looking creatures.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" said Gerald. "Don't call them +terrible; you will hurt their poor old feelings. +I know them of old, Horatio; fellows of +infinite jest."</p> + +<p>"Are they—are they tame?" asked Margaret, +in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Tame? I should say so. Look at this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +fellow! I have known him from a calf. +Did um want um's nosy rubbed?" he added, +addressing the huge leader, who was snuffing +nearer and nearer. "Come along, then, Popolorum +Tibby, and tell um's prettiest aunt +not to be afraid of um any more."</p> + +<p>"But—but they came all around me!" +said poor Margaret.</p> + +<p>"Small blame to them! Showed their +good sense, not to say their taste. But to be +wholly candid, they came for salt."</p> + +<p>"For salt? Those great monsters?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure! Ellis, the farmer, makes +regular pets of them, and I always put a +lump of salt in my pocket when I am coming +their way. I never saw them in this pasture +before, though; the fence must be broken. +I believe I have some grains of salt left now. +See him take it like a lady!"</p> + +<p>He held out his hand, with a little heap of +salt in it. The huge ox came forward, stepping +daintily, with neck outstretched and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +nostrils spread; put out a tongue like a pink +sickle, and neatly, with one comprehensive +lick, swept off every particle of salt, and +looked his appreciation.</p> + +<p>Gerald patted the great muzzle affectionately.</p> + +<p>"Good old Blunderbore!" he said. "I +almost carried you when you were a day old, +though you may not believe it. Come, Margaret, +give him a pat, and say you bear no +malice."</p> + +<p>Margaret put out a timid hand and patted +the great black head. Blunderbore snuffed +and blew, and expressed his friendliness in +every way he could.</p> + +<p>"Why, he is a dear, gentle creature!" +said the girl. "I shall never be afraid of +him again. And yet—oh, Gerald, I am so +glad you came!"</p> + +<p>"So am I!" said Gerald.</p> + +<p>"Because," Margaret went on, "of course, +I see how silly and foolish I was; but all the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +same, I was terribly frightened, and I really +don't know what would have become of me if +you had not come, Gerald."</p> + +<p>"But I did come, Margaret! I will always +come, whenever you want me, if it is +across the world."</p> + +<p>"But—you must think me so <i>very</i> silly, +Gerald!"</p> + +<p>"Do you wish to know what I think of +you?" asked Gerald.</p> + +<p>Margaret was silent.</p> + +<p>"Because, for the insignificant sum of two +cents, I would tell you," he went on.</p> + +<p>"I haven't two cents with me," said Margaret. +"I think it is time to go home now, +Gerald."</p> + +<p>"Generosity is part of my nature," said +Gerald; "I'll tell you for nothing. Margaret—sit +down, please!"</p> + +<p>Margaret had risen to her feet. The words +had the old merry ring, but a deep note +quivered in his voice. The girl was afraid,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +she knew not of what; afraid, yet with a fear +that was half joy. "I—I must go, Gerald, +indeed!" she said, faintly.</p> + +<p>"You must not go," said Gerald, gravely. +"It is not all play, Margaret, between you +and me. My cap and bells are off now, and +you must hear what I have to say."</p> + +<p>Margaret, still hesitating, looked up in his +face, and saw something there that brought +the sweet color flooding over her neck and +brow, so swift and hot that instinctively she +hid her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>But gently, tenderly, Gerald Merryweather +drew the slender hands away, and held them +close in his own.</p> + +<p>"My dearest girl," said the young man, +"my dearest love, you are not afraid of me? +Sit down by me; sit down, my Margaret, and +let me tell you what my heart has been saying +ever since the day I first saw you."</p> + +<p>So dear Margaret sat down, perhaps because +she could hardly stand, and listened.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +And the black cattle listened, too, and so did +the fish-hawk overhead, and the little birds +peeping from their nest in the birch wood +close at hand; but none of them ever told +what Gerald said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>THE SNOWY OWL</h3> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">I think</span> it is a horrid bother, if you want +to know!" said Willy.</p> + +<p>"Willy Merryweather! aren't you ashamed +of yourself? I never heard anything so +odious, when we are all so happy, and everything +is so perfectly lovely. I don't see what +you mean."</p> + +<p>"I don't care, it <i>is</i> a bother. Nothing is +the way it used to be; it's all nothing but +spooning, all over the lot."</p> + +<p>"I should not think you would use vulgar +expressions, anyhow, Willy."</p> + +<p>"'Spooning' isn't vulgar," said Willy, +sulkily. "I've heard Pa say it, so there! +And—look here, Kitty! Of course, it's all +corking, and so on, and anyhow, girls like that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +kind of fuss; but it does spoil everything, I +tell you. Why, Pa couldn't get a crew for +the war canoe yesterday. He wanted to go +to Pine Cove—at least I did, awfully, and +he said all right, so we would; and then +Jerry was off with Margaret in the <i>Keewaydin</i>, +and Bell and Jack were out in the woods +fiddling, and Peggy and Phil—I say, Kitty! +You don't suppose <i>they</i> are going to get +spoony, do you?"</p> + +<p>Kitty looked very wise, and pursed her lips +and nodded her head with an air of deep +mystery.</p> + +<p>"You don't!" repeated Willy, looking +aghast.</p> + +<p>"Hush, Willy!" said Kitty. "Don't say +a word! don't breathe it to anybody! I hope—I +<i>think</i> they are!"</p> + +<p>"What a mean, horrid shame!" cried Willy, +indignantly. "I do think it is disgusting."</p> + +<p>His sister turned on him with flashing eyes. +"It is you that is the shame!" she cried. "It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +is you who ought to be ashamed, Willy. Do +you want poor Phil to be all alone when Jerry +is married? Do you know that twins sometimes +pine away and <i>die</i>, Willy Merryweather, +when the other of them dies?"</p> + +<p>"Jerry isn't going to die," said Willy, +uncomfortably. "What nonsense you talk, +Kitty."</p> + +<p>"Well, marries. I should think very likely +they would, then, if they didn't get married +themselves. I think you are perfectly heartless, +Willy. And dear Peggy, too, so nice and +jolly! and if she goes away back out West +<i>without</i> falling in love with Phil, we may +never, never see her again; and she has +promised me a puppy of the very next litter +Simmerimmeris has. So there!"</p> + +<p>Willy was silent for a moment, kicking the +pebbles thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Do you think she is—that?" he asked +at length, shamefacedly.</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't <i>know!</i>" said Kitty, judicially.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +"Of course very likely nothing is +positively decided yet; but I am sure she likes +him very, very much, and he takes her out +whenever he has a chance."</p> + +<p>"There's nobody else for him to take out," +put in Willy; "the others are all spoon—"</p> + +<p>"Willy, don't be tiresome! and just think! +if they should get married and go to live out +West, then you and I could both go out to see +them, and ride all the ponies, and punch the +cows, and have real lassoes, and—and—"</p> + +<p>The children were coming home through +the wood. Kitty's voice had gradually risen, +till now it was a shrill squeak of excitement; +but at this moment it broke off suddenly, for +there was a rustling of branches, and the next +moment Gertrude stood before them with +grave looks.</p> + +<p>"My dear chicks," she said, "you must not +talk so loud. I was in the pine parlor, and +could not help hearing the last part of what +you were saying. And anyhow, I would not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +talk about such things, if I were you. Suppose +Peggy had been with me! How do you think +she would have felt? Mammy would +not like to have you gossiping in this foolish +way."</p> + +<p>The children hung their heads.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Toots," said Kitty, "I am sorry! I +didn't realize that we were getting anywhere +near the house. We were only thinking—at +least I was—how lovely it would be if +Peggy and Phil should—"</p> + +<p>"Kitty dear, hush!" said Gertrude, decidedly. +"You would better not think, and +you certainly <i>must not</i> talk, about anything of +the kind. There are enough real love-affairs +to interest you, you little match-maker, without +your building castles in the air. Let +Peggy and Phil alone!"</p> + +<p>"I should think there were!" said Willy. +"That's just what I was saying, Toots; it's +nothing but spooning, all over the place. +There's no fun anywhere; this wretched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +love-making spoils everything. <i>I</i> think it's +perfectly childish."</p> + +<p>"Do you, Willy dear?" said his sister; and +her smile was very sweet as she laid her hand +on the boy's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do. Here are the white perch rising +like a house afire, and I can't get a soul +to go with me. It was just the same yesterday, +and it's like that almost every day now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Willy! I'll go with you," cried Kitty, +eagerly. "Why didn't you tell me the perch +were rising? Let's come right along this minute. +Toots will help us with the boat, won't +you, Toots?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll help!" said the Snowy Owl.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later the white boat was speeding +on her way to the fishing-ground, the +little rowers bending to their oars, chattering +merrily as they went.</p> + +<p>"That's one comfort!" Willy was saying. +"We've got Toots. Nobody will get her away +from us."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I should hope not," said Kitty. "There's +nobody good enough, in the first place; and +besides, of course somebody must stay with +Papa and Mamma."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you will be grown up yourself +some day!" said Willy, gruffly.</p> + +<p>"I shall be likely to marry very young," +said Kitty, seriously. "I heard Aunt Anna +say so."</p> + +<p>Gertrude stood on the wharf, looking after +the retreating boat. "Poor Willy!" she said, +with a smile; "it <i>is</i> hard on him!"</p> + +<p>She looked around her. It was afternoon, +a still, golden day. The lake was as she loved +best to see it, a sheet of living crystal, here +deep blue, here glittering in gold and diamonds, +here giving back shades of crimson +and russet from the autumn woods that +crowded down to the water's edge. Far out, +her eye caught a white flash, the gleam of a +paddle; there was another, just at the bend of +the shore; and was that dark spot the prow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +of a third canoe, moored in the fairy cove of +Birch Island? Gertrude smiled again, and +her smile said many things.</p> + +<p>Presently she raised her arms above her +head, and brought them down slowly, with a +powerful gesture. "How good it would be to +fly!" she said, dreamily. "To fly away up +to the iceberg country, where the snowy owls +live!"</p> + +<p>She stood for a long time silent, gazing out +over the shining water. At last she shook +herself with a little laugh, and turned away. +The white canoe, her own especial pet, was +lying on the wharf. She launched it carefully, +then taking her paddle, knelt down in +the bow. A few long, swift strokes, and the +canoe shot out over the lake, and rested like a +great white bird with folded wings, then +glided slowly on again. It was a pity there +was none to see, for the picture was a fair +one: the stately maiden kneeling, her golden +hair sweeping about her, her white arms rising<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +and falling slowly, rhythmically, in perfect +grace.</p> + +<p>"Tu-whoo!" said the Snowy Owl.</p> + +<p>But only the loon answered her.</p> + + +<h2>THE END.</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p> +<div class='bbox'><div class='bbox2'> +<h2>BOOKS FOR GIRLS</h2> + +<h3>By Laura E. 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Merrill</div> +</div><div class='bbox2'> +<div class='center'><b> +DANA ESTES & COMPANY<br /> +Publishers<br /> +Estes Press, Summer St., Boston</b></div> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p> + +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Merryweathers, by Laura E. 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