Dick and Dolly
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The shopman said he would bring some out to show them.
“Oh, Auntie,” cried Dolly, impulsively, “can’t we go in the shop and look at them?”
“No, indeed,” said Miss Rachel, as if Dolly had asked something highly improper. “Stay where you are and make your selections.”
Dolly wondered why they couldn’t hop out, but it didn’t much matter, as the man returned, followed by a youth who brought a lot of spades and rakes and garden tools of many sorts.
The children were allowed to select all they wanted, and, guided by Aunt Rachel’s advice, they chose quite a great many.
“You’re awful good to us,” exclaimed Dick as, after giving the order, they drove away.
“Then you must be good to us,” said Aunt Rachel, smiling. “Now we are going to call at Mrs. Fuller’s. She has a son Jack, about ten years old, and I hope you will be good friends with him. There are no little girls here, but, Dolly, we will find some girl friends for you later on.”
“Oh, I like boys,” said Dolly, agreeably. “I like Dick better than any girl, so, of course, I like other boys too.”
At Mrs. Fuller’s they were ushered into a stiff, formal-looking parlour, which had the effect of being rarely used. The half-drawn blinds gave but a dim light, and the four guests took their seats in silence.
Dick and Dolly felt depressed without knowing just why. They secretly wished they could clasp hands and make a dash for the door and run away, but Aunt Rachel had asked them to be good, so they sat still, wondering what would be expected of them.
After what seemed a long time, Mrs. Fuller came into the room. She was a lady of very precise manners, and wore a rustling silk gown.
The ladies all shook hands quite stiffly, and inquired for each other’s health, and then Miss Rachel presented the twins to Mrs. Fuller.
“How do you do, my dears?” said the lady, offering her finger-tips to each in turn.
“I’m very well, thank you; how are you?” said Dolly, heartily, as she cordially gave her hostess’s hand a vigorous shake. But the chagrin on the Dana ladies’ faces, and the surprised glance of Mrs. Fuller, proved at once that this wasn’t the right thing to do.
Quick to catch the hint, Dick offered his hand hesitatingly, – so much so indeed, that it lay in Mrs. Fuller’s like a little limp fish, and as she finally dropped it, it fell loosely to Dick’s side.
“How d’ do?” he murmured, uncertain what to say, and then, feeling very uncomfortable, the two children sat down again.
For a time no attention was paid to them, and the ladies conversed in short, elegant sentences, and high-pitched voices.
Then Mrs. Fuller turned again to the twins:
“How do you like Heatherton?” she asked.
The suddenness of the question took Dick unawares, and he said enthusiastically:
“Out o’ sight!”
Immediately he realised that he should have expressed himself more formally, and the look of annoyance on Aunt Rachel’s face made him red and embarrassed.
Loyal little Dolly tried, as always, to come to his rescue, and she said politely:
“Yes, indeed, Mrs. Fuller; we like it awfully well so far, but of course we haven’t been here very long yet.”
“And you think you won’t like it when you’ve been here longer! Is that it?”
Mrs. Fuller meant only to be jocose, but Dolly didn’t understand, and tried hard to explain.
“No ’m; I don’t mean that. I mean I think we’ll like it better after we live here a while.”
“I trust you will,” said Mrs. Fuller. “You must be hard to please if you don’t.”
Poor Dolly felt herself misunderstood, but she could think of nothing to say, so she sat silent, but, it seemed, this was not the right thing to do either.
“Speak up, child,” said Aunt Rachel, half playfully and half sharply; “didn’t you hear Mrs. Fuller’s remark?”
“Yes ’m,” said Dolly, “but, – but I don’t know what to answer.”
“Strange child,” murmured Mrs. Fuller. “Is the boy any more civil?”
Dick, though embarrassed himself, was still more annoyed at Dolly’s discomfiture, and spoke up decidedly:
“We don’t mean to be uncivil, Mrs. Fuller. But we’ve never made fashionable calls before, and we don’t know quite how to talk. It’s so different in Chicago.”
“Different in Chicago! I should hope so. My dear Miss Dana and Miss Abbie, you’ll have your hands full with these little ones, won’t you?”
“At first,” said Miss Rachel with dignity. “But we hope to teach them.”
“And we want to learn,” put in Dolly, with an instinctive desire to stand by her aunt against this disagreeable lady.
“Then there’ll be no trouble, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Fuller, but though her words were all right, her tone was a little bit sarcastic, and the twins were conscious of a feeling of defeat, which was far from comfortable.
Then Jack Fuller came into the room.
He was a boy of ten, with fair hair, and a pale, girlish face. He, apparently, had irreproachable manners, and gave his hand to the Dana ladies with just the right degree of cordiality. Then, being introduced to Dick and Dolly, he came and sat on the sofa between them.
Instinctively, Dick felt that he never could like that boy. Jack had scarcely opened his mouth before Dick had dubbed him a “Miss Nancy.” He didn’t believe Jack could run or jump, or do anything that a boy ought to do.
“Do you like to live here?” said Jack at last, by way of opening conversation.
“Yes, we do,” said Dolly; “we’re going to have splendid gardens, – we’ve been digging all day. Don’t you love to do that?”
Jack looked at her with apparent surprise that a girl should care for such vigorous pursuits.
“I never dig,” he answered. “Mamma thinks it isn’t good for me.”
“How funny!” said Dolly. “I should think it would do you good.”
“Do you like to run and jump?” asked Dick, for there had been a pause, and he considered it his turn to “make talk.”
“Oh, not very much. I like quiet games. I play mostly by myself. Mamma won’t let me associate with many children. But I’m to be allowed to play with you. I know that, because you’re Danas.”
This was gratifying in a way, but somehow Dick wasn’t over-enchanted at the prospect.
“I hope you will,” he said; “but I’m afraid, – when we’re playing, we’re rather, – rather rampageous.”
“Rough, do you mean?” asked Jack, looking horrified.
“Well, we don’t mean to be rough exactly; but we’re sort of noisy and lively.”
“Well, I shall visit you all the same,” said Jack, with a resigned air, “for mamma said I should. I think I’m to go see you to-morrow afternoon at four.”
This specified date amused the Dana children, but Dolly said politely:
“That will be very nice, and I’m sure we’ll have a good time.”
And then the aunties rose to take leave, and they all went home again.
“You children must learn better manners,” said Aunt Rachel, as they drove homeward. “You horrified me to-day by your manner of speaking.”
“I saw we did,” said Dolly, humbly, “but I don’t see what we did that was wrong. I’m sure we didn’t mean to be bad.”
“You weren’t bad,” said Abbie, smiling at them, “but we want you to acquire a little more grace and elegance. You spoke, in Mrs. Fuller’s parlour, just as you would at home.”
“Oh,” said Dick, “I begin to see; you want us to put on society airs.”
Aunt Rachel considered a moment.
“While I shouldn’t express it in just that way,” she said, “that is about what I mean.”
“Well,” said Dick pleasantly, “we’ll try. But Aunty Helen always taught us to be just as polite when alone at home as when we were visiting or had company.”
“Auntie Helen isn’t teaching you now,” said Miss Rachel, grimly; “and I trust you’ll consider my wishes in the matter.”
“We will, Aunt Rachel, we truly will,” broke in Dolly, whose rôle was often that of pacificator. “You’re terribly good to us, and we want to do ’zackly as you want us to, but, you see, fashionable calls are new to us. We’ll do better next time.”
Dolly’s cheerful smile was infectious, and Aunt Rachel smiled back, and dropped the subject of manners for the present.
The next afternoon, promptly at four o’clock, Jack Fuller came to see Dick and Dolly. The twins had been grubbing in their gardens all day, and had been radiantly happy.
They loved flowers and learned quickly the elements of gardening that Pat taught them. And with their new garden tools of suitable size, they did real work after the most approved fashion. But at three o’clock they were called in to get ready for the expected guest. Dick grumbled a little, for it seemed hard to leave the gardens to get all dressed up just because a boy was coming!
“But you want to make friends in Heatherton, don’t you?” asked Aunt Rachel.
“Yes ’m; but I like boys who come over and play in every-day clothes; not rig up like a party.”
As for Dolly, she didn’t see why she had to leave the garden at all. Jack Fuller wasn’t her company.
But the aunts decreed that both twins should receive the guest properly, and so at quarter to four, two spick and span, but not very merry children sat in the library, waiting.
Jack came in, at last, and greeted the twins with the same formality he had shown in his own home. He responded politely to the elder ladies’ remarks and Dick and Dolly tried to be polite and do exactly as the others did.
After nearly half an hour of this stiff and uncomfortable conversation, Miss Rachel proposed that the twins take Jack out and show him their gardens. Glad to get out of doors, Dick and Dolly ran for their hats and the three children started out.
To the twins’ astonishment, as soon as he was out of the presence of the elder ladies, Jack turned into quite a different boy. His formal manner fell away, and he was chummy and full of fun.
“Let’s throw stones,” he cried. “See me hit that stone bird on the fountain.”
He flung a pebble with such true aim that it hit the stone bird on the wing, and roused Dick’s exceeding admiration, for he was not himself a superior marksman.
“Want to play knife?” asked Jack, pulling a new knife from his pocket; “or no, let’s go see your gardens first. Must be gay ones, from the fuss you make over ’em.”
But when he saw the playground that was planned, he was appreciative enough to satisfy the twins’ love of enthusiasm.
“It’s great!” he cried; “that’s what it is, great! I wish I had one like it.”
“Yes, won’t it be fine!” agreed Dick; “there’ll be a table in the arbour, and chairs, or benches, and we can have tea-parties, and everything.”
“Plant gourds on your arbour,” advised Jack. “All kinds are good, but the dipper and cucumber gourd grow the fastest. They’ll cover your arbour in a few weeks, I guess. Hercules club is a good fellow for that, too. Pat’ll know about ’em.”
Dick and Dolly felt their admiration rising for this boy, who knew so much about climbing gourds and flowers of all sorts. It was strange that he could throw stones so straight, and also have such fine parlour manners. So very strange indeed that Dick felt he must inquire into it.
“Say,” he began; “you’re awful different out here from what you are in the parlour.”
“Sure,” returned Jack. “In parlours, with ladies, a fellow has to be polite and proper. You don’t want me to be like that out here with you, do you?”
Jack’s face expressed such a willingness to do what was required of him that Dick exclaimed hastily:
“Not on your life! But I don’t see how you manage those fine airs when you have to.”
“Pooh, it’s dead easy. Anyway, I’ve always done it. Mamma wouldn’t like it if I didn’t.”
“I s’pose we’ll have to learn,” said Dolly, sighing a little; “but don’t let’s bother about it now.”
As the afternoon wore on, and they became better acquainted, they both began to like Jack very much. He was not a strong boy, and couldn’t run or jump as they could, but he was clever at games, and could beat them easily at “knife,” or “hop-scotch,” or almost any game of muscular skill that did not call for violent exercise.
“He’s all right,” said Dick to Dolly as they sat on the veranda steps a few minutes after Jack went home. “But I hope we won’t always have to dress up, and sit in the parlour at first every time he comes.”
“Let’s ask Aunt Rachel,” said Dolly.
“Why, no,” said Miss Rachel in surprise. “Of course you won’t. To-day was his first visit, as you called on him yesterday. After this, you can go to play with each other in your every-day clothes, whenever you like.”
Dick and Dolly were satisfied with this, and gave up trying to fathom the strange requirements of etiquette at Heatherton.
CHAPTER VII
PINKIE
The days passed happily at Dana Dene.
There was so much to do, with the gardens and the chickens, and going for afternoon drives that, except on rainy days, the children were out of doors nearly all the time.
Their big boxes had arrived, and Dolly’s dolls, and Dick’s more boyish treasures, were up in the playroom, but were often neglected for open-air fun.
It had been decided by the aunties that the twins should not go to school until Fall, for the term was within a few weeks of closing, and it didn’t seem worth while to start. But they were required to practise on the piano an hour each day, and a teacher came once a week to give them lessons. The Misses Dana were fond of music, and as they thought the twins showed some talent, they insisted on its cultivation, though Dick and Dolly looked upon their practice hour as drudgery.
They always practised at the same time, if possible, in order to have their play hours together. If they had been practising duets, this plan might have been fairly agreeable to the other members of the household. But the nine-year-old twins had not yet arrived at the dignity of “pieces,” and were confined to scales and five-finger exercises.
Their scales usually started on harmonious notes, but Dolly’s little fingers flew along the keyboard so much faster than Dick’s that she usually finished her scale on the highest notes, and drummed away there until his chubby hands came up and caught her.
This, though a satisfactory plan to the performers, was far from pleasant to the sensitive ears of the Dana aunties.
Again, in case of five-finger exercises, they divided the piano fairly, and then diligently pursued their “one-and, two-and, three-and” quite irrespective of each other.
As they were careful not to infringe on one another’s territory, they saw no objection to this arrangement, and quite in despair, the aunts would close the doors of the drawing-room, where the musicians were, and retire to the farthest corners of the house.
There was, of course, great temptation for the twins to neglect their task, and chatter, but they were too conscientious for this.
Neither would have considered it honourable to remove their hands from the keys during practice hour. So the little fingers diligently worked up and down, but the counting often gave way to conversation. Instead of “one-and,” Dolly might say, in time with her counting, “Don’t you, – think the, – poles will, – come to-, – day, Dick?” And Dick would pound away, as he replied, “Yes, Pat, – said they, – sure would, – come to, – day-ay.”
Thus a staccato conversation could be kept up while the twenty stiff little fingers were acquiring proper limberness and skill.
“It’s enough to drive anybody frantic! I can’t stand it!” said Aunt Abbie, as one day she listened to the measured chatter, and its accompaniment of pounded keys that didn’t chord.
“I can’t either!” declared Aunt Rachel, “and I’ve made up my mind, Abbie, what to do. We’ll get another piano, – a second-hand one will do, – and put it up in the playroom. Then they can practise separately.”
“Ye-es,” said Miss Abbie, doubtfully; “but they wouldn’t like that. They always want to be together.”
“Well, they’ll have to stand it. It’s enough to ruin their musical ear, to hear those discords themselves.”
“That’s true. I suppose your plan is a good one.”
So a second piano was bought, and put up in the playroom, and the twins had to do their practising separately, except for a few little duet exercises, which their teacher kindly gave them. And it must be confessed they made better progress than when they combined practising and social conversation.
In addition to the hour for music, Dolly was required to spend an hour every day, sewing.
The Misses Dana believed in that old-fashioned accomplishment, and put the child through a regular course of overhanding, felling, and hemming, insisting on great neatness and accuracy of stitches.
This hour caused Dolly a great many sighs, and even a few tears. She didn’t like needlework, and it was so hard to keep her stitches even and true.
But the real hardship was that Dick didn’t have to sew also. It didn’t seem fair that she should work so hard for an hour, while he was free to play or do what he chose.
She remarked this to Aunt Rachel, who saw the justice of the argument, and thought it over.
“That’s true, in a way,” she responded. “There isn’t any occupation so necessary for a boy to learn, as for a girl to learn sewing, but I think that Dick should have a corresponding task.”
So it was arranged that for an hour every day, Dick must do work in the garden. Real work, not just fun. He was to weed both his own and Dolly’s flower-beds, and mow the grass and trim the hedges in their playground, and water the plants, if necessary; in short, do the drudgery work of the garden, while Dolly plodded along at her sewing.
This plan worked finely, and sometimes Dick had the playground in such perfect order that he could put in his hour weeding or mowing the other parts of the lawn. Aunt Rachel bought a small lawn-mower for his use, and under Pat’s instructions his hour’s hard work each day taught him much of the real science of gardening.
When the twins had been at Dana Dene a week, they had as yet made no acquaintances beside Jack Fuller. This had happened only because the ladies had not found it convenient to take the children to call elsewhere, and Dick and Dolly themselves had been so wrapped up in their gardens and other joys that they had not cared for outside companionship.
Pat had sent for extra long poles, that their playhouse might be of goodly size. When these came, and were put in place, the tent-shaped arbour was about ten feet by twenty, which was amply large for their purpose. Vines were planted at once, both seeds and cuttings, but of course it would be several weeks before the leaves would form a green roof for them.
However, the sun was not unpleasantly warm in May, and by June or July the leafy roof would be a protection.
In the meantime, Aunt Abbie, who was most ingenious, planned a cosy arrangement for them. In one corner of their playground, Michael built them a table. This had a section of a felled tree trunk for an upright, on which was placed a round top.
From the centre of the table top rose a stout, straight stick, with leather loops nailed on it at intervals. Into these loops could be thrust the handle of a very large Japanese umbrella, which, opened, made a gay and festive-looking roof, and which could be taken into the house in case of rain.
Benches and rustic chairs Michael made for them, too, and Dick helped, being allowed to use his “work-hour” for this.
As the playground achieved all these comforts, it became a most delightful place, and the children spent whole days there.
Sometimes, good-natured Hannah would bring their dinner out there, and let them eat it under the gay umbrella.
Aunt Abbie gave them a fine garden swing, as she had promised.
This was one of those wooden affairs that will hold four comfortably, but except for Jack Fuller, none but the twins had yet used it.
Aunt Rachel’s gift proved to be a fountain.
This was quite elaborate, and had to be set up by workmen who came from town for the purpose. It was very beautiful, and added greatly to the effect of the playground. When the weather grew warmer they were to have goldfish in it, but at present there were aquatic plants and pretty shells and stones.
It was small wonder that the children didn’t feel need of other companionship, and had it not been for Jack Fuller, Dolly would never have thought of being lonely.
She and Dick were such good chums that their company was quite sufficient for each other; but when Jack came over to play, he and Dick were quite apt to play boyish games that Dolly didn’t care for.
On such occasions she usually brought out her doll-carriage and one or two of her favourite dolls, and played by herself.
And so, it happened, that one afternoon when Dick and Jack were playing leap-frog, Dolly wandered off to the wood with Arabella and Araminta in the perambulator. She never felt lonely in the wood, for there were always the squirrels and birds, and always a chance that she might see a fairy.
So, with her dolls, she had company enough, and sitting down by a big flat rock, she set out a table with acorn cups and leaves for plates, and tiny pebbles for cakes and fruit.
Arabella and Araminta had already been seated at the table, and Dolly was talking for them and for herself, as she arranged the feast.
“No, Arabella,” she said; “you can’t have any jelly pudding to-day, dear, for you are not very well. You must eat bread and milk, and here it is.”
She set an acorn cup in front of the doll, and then turned to prepare Araminta’s food, when she saw a little girl coming eagerly toward her.
It was a pretty little girl, about her own age, with dark curls, and a pink linen frock.
“Hello,” she said, softly, “I want to play with you.”
“Come on,” said Dolly, more than pleased to have company. “Sit right down at the table. There’s a place. I fixed it for Mr. Grey Squirrel, but he didn’t come.”
“I didn’t bring my doll,” said the little girl in pink, “I – I came away in a hurry.”
“I’ll lend you one of mine,” said Dolly. “They’re Arabella and Araminta; take your choice.”
“What’s your own name?” said the visitor, as she picked up Araminta.
“Dolly, – Dolly Dana. What’s yours?”
“I don’t want to tell you,” said the little girl, looking confused.
“Never mind,” said Dolly, sorry for her guest’s evident embarrassment, but thinking her a very strange person. “I’ll call you Pinkie, ’cause your dress is such a pretty pink.”
“All right,” said Pinkie, evidently much relieved.
“You’re not – you’re not a fairy, are you?” said Dolly, hopefully, yet sure she wasn’t one.
“Oh, no,” said Pinkie, laughing. “I’m just a little girl, but I – I ran away, and so I don’t want to tell you my name.”
“Oh, I don’t care,” said Dolly, who was always willing to accept a situation. “Never mind about that. Let’s play house.”
“Yes; let’s. You keep this place, ’cause you’ve fixed your table so nice, and I’ll live over here.”
Pinkie selected another choice spot for her home, and soon the two families were on visiting terms.
Dolly and her daughter, Arabella, went to call on Pinkie and her daughter, Araminta, and as they had already selected the names of Mrs. Vandeleur and Mrs. Constantine, their own names didn’t matter anyway.
Dolly was Mrs. Vandeleur, because she thought that title had a very grand sound, and Pinkie chose Mrs. Constantine because she had just come to that name in her “Outlines of the World’s History,” and thought it was beautiful.
So Mrs. Vandeleur rang the bell at Mrs. Constantine’s mansion, and sent in two green leaves, which were supposed to be the visiting cards of herself and her daughter.
“Come in, come in,” said Mrs. Constantine, in a high-pitched voice. “I’m so glad to see you. Won’t you sit down?”
Dolly sat down very elegantly on the root of a tree, and propped Arabella against another.
“I’m just going to have supper,” said the hostess, “and I hope you and your daughter will give me the pleasure of your company.”
“Thank you. I will stay, but I must go ’way right after dessert. I have an engagement with – with the fairies.”
“Oh, how lovely! Are you going to see them dance?”
“Yes,” said Dolly, greatly pleased to learn that Pinkie believed in fairies; “they sent me a special invitation.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Mrs. Constantine, promptly. “I’m always invited to their dances.”