Dorothy's House Party
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Neither Alfy nor Melvin interfered with these too-close small neighbors; but withdrawing to the extreme edges of the seat left them to sleep and get dry at their leisure. After that the homeward drive proceeded in peace; only Herbert calling out now and then from his place in the big wagon to make Melvin admire some particular beauty of the scene, challenging the Provincial to beat it if he could in that far away Markland of his own.
“But you haven’t the sea!” retorted Melvin, proudly.
“We don’t need it. We have the HUDSON RIVER!” came as swiftly back; and as they had come just then to a turn in the road where an ancient building stood beneath a canopy of trees, he asked: “Hold up the horses a minute, will you, Littlejohn? I’d like our English friend to say if he ever saw anything more picturesque than this.”
“This” was a more than century-old Friends’ meeting-house. Unpainted and shingled all over its outward surface. “Old shingle-sides” was its local name, and a lovelier location could not have been chosen even by a less austere body of worshipers.
Meeting had been prolonged that First Day. The hand clasp of neighbor with neighbor which signaled its close had just been given. From the doorways on either side, the men’s and the women’s, these silent worshipers were now issuing; the men to seek the vehicles waiting beneath the long shed and the women to gossip a moment of neighborhood affairs.
Mr. Winters was willing to rest and “breathe the horses” for a little, the day being warm and the drive long, and to observe with interest the decorous home-going of these Plain People; and it so chanced that the big wagon, where Dorothy sat on the front seat with Luna resting against her, halted just beside the entrance to the meeting-house grounds. From her place she watched the departing congregation with the keen interest she brought to everything; and among them she recognized the familiar outlines of George Fox, the miller’s fine horse; and, holding the reins over its back, Oliver Sands, the miller himself. So close he drove to the big wagon that George Fox’s nose touched Littlejohn’s leader, and the boy pulled back a little.
“Huh! That’s old Oliver in his First Day grays! But he’s in the grumps. Guess the Spirit hasn’t moved him to anything pleasant, by the look,” he remarked to Dorothy beside him.
“He does look as if he were in trouble. I don’t like him. I never did. He wasn’t – well, nice to Father John once. But I’m sorry he’s unhappy. Nobody ought to be on such a heavenly day.”
If Oliver saw those watching beside the gate he made no sign. His fat shoulders, commonly so erect, were bowed as if he had suddenly grown old. His face had lost its unctuous smile and was haggard with care; and for once he paid no heed to George Fox’s un-Quakerlike gambols, fraught with danger to the open buggy he drew. A pale-faced woman in the orthodox attire of the birthright Friends sat beside the miller and clung to him in evident terror at the horse’s behavior. It was she who saw how close the contact between their own and the Deerhurst team, and her eye fell anxiously upon the two girlish figures upon the front seat of the wagon. For a girl the unknown Luna seemed, clad in the scarlet frock and hat that Dorothy had given; while Dolly, herself, clasping the little creature close lest she should be frightened looked even younger than she was.
“Sisters,” thought Dorcas Sands, “yet not alike.” Then casting a second, critical glance upon Luna she uttered a strange cry and clutched her husband’s arm.
“Dorcas, thee is too old for foolishness,” was all the heed he paid to her gesture, and drove stolidly on, unseeing aught but his own inward perturbation which had found no solace in that morning’s Meeting.
Dorcas looked back once over her shoulder and Dorothy returned a friendly smile to the sweet old face in the white-lined gray bonnet. Then the bonnet faced about again and George Fox whisked its wearer out of sight.
“I declare I’d love to be a Quakeress and wear such clothes as these women do. They look so sweet and peaceful and happy. As if nothing ever troubled them. Don’t you think they’re lovely, Littlejohn?”
“Huh! I don’t know. That there Mrs. Sands – Dorcas Sands is the way she’s called ’cause the Friends don’t give nobody titles – I guess there ain’t a more unhappy woman on our mountain than her.”
“Why, Littlejohn! Fancy! With such a – a good man; isn’t he?”
“Good accordin’ as you call goodness. He ain’t bad, not so bad; only you want to look sharp when you have dealings with him. They say he measures the milk his folks use in the cookin’ and if more butter goes one week than he thinks ought to he skimps ’em the next. I ain’t stuck on that kind of a man, myself, even if he is all-fired rich. Gid-dap, boys!”
With which expression of his sentiments the young mountaineer touched up the team that had rather lagged behind the others and the conversation dropped. But during all that homeward ride there lingered in Dorothy’s memory that strange, startled, half-cognizant gaze which gentle Dorcas Sands had cast upon poor Luna. But by this time, the afflicted guest had become as one of the family; and the fleeting interest of any passer-by was accepted as mere curiosity and soon forgotten.
After dinner Mr. Winters disappeared; and the younger members of the House Party disposed themselves after their desires; some for a stroll in the woods, some in select, cosy spots for quiet reading; and a few – as Mabel, Helena, and Monty – for a nap. But all gathered again at supper-time and a happy evening followed; with music and talk and a brief bedtime service at which the Master officiated.
But Dorothy noticed that he still looked anxious and that he was preoccupied, a manner wholly new to her beloved Mr. Seth. So, as she bade him good-night she asked:
“Is it anything I can help, dear Master?”
“Why do you fancy anything’s amiss, lassie?”
“Oh! you show it in your eyes. Can I help?”
“Yes. You may break the news to Dinah that those twins are on our hands for – to-night at least. I’m sorry, but together you two must find them a place to sleep. We can’t be unchristian you know – not on the Lord’s own day!”
He smiled his familiar, whimsical smile as he said this and it reassured the girl at once. Pointing to a distant corner of the room, where some considerate person had tossed down a sofa cushion, she showed him the ill-named babies asleep with their arms about each other’s neck and their red lips parted in happy slumber.
“They’ve found their own place you see; will it do?”
“Admirable! They’re like kittens or puppies – one spot’s as good as another. Throw a rug over them and let them be. I think they’ll need nothing more to-night, but if they do they’re of the sort will make it known. Good-night, little Dorothy. Sleep well.”
After a custom which Father John had taught her, though he could not himself explain it, Dorothy “set her mind” like an alarm clock to wake her at six the next morning and it did so. She bathed and dressed with utmost carefulness and succeeded in doing this without waking anybody. Those whose business it was to be awake, as the house servants, gave her a silent nod for good-morning and smiled to think of her energy. The reason appeared when she drew a chair to a desk by the library window and wrote the following letter:
“My darling Aunt Betty:
“Good-morning, please, and I hope you’ll have a happy day. I’ve written you a post card or a letter every day since you went away but I haven’t had one back. I wonder and am sorry but I suppose you are too busy with your sick friend. I hope you aren’t angry with me for anything. I was terrible sorry about somebody – losing – stealing that money! There, it’s out! and I feel better. Sorrier, too, about it’s being him. Well, that’s gone, and as you have so much more I guess you won’t care much. Besides, we don’t need much. Dear Mr. Seth is just too splendid for words. He thinks of something nice to do all the time.
“Yesterday we went to church and so did the dogs and the twins. I haven’t told you about them for this is the first letter since they came and that was just after breakfast Sunday. A crazy man brought them and said he’d ‘passed them on.’ They’re the cutest little mites with such horrible names – Ananias and Sapphira! Imagine anybody cruel enough to give babies those names. They aren’t much bigger than buttons but they talk as plain as you do. They said ‘A-ah!’ and ‘A-A-men!’ in the middle of the sermon and stopped the minister preaching. I wasn’t sorry they did for I didn’t know what they’d do next nor Luna either. They three and Mr. Seth are the uninvited, or self-invited, ones and they’re more fun than all the rest. Mabel fell out the carriage, or jumped out, and spoiled her dress and fainted away.
“My House Party is just fine! Monty got stuck in the barn and had to be sawed apart. I mean the barn had to be, not Monty; and not one of us said a word about it.
“I’m writing this before the rest are up because afterward I shan’t have a minute’s chance. It’s a great care to have a House Party, though the Master – we call Mr. Winters that, all of us – takes the care. I don’t know what we would do without him, and what we can without that stolen money. Monty says if he had that or had some of his own, he’d be able to manage without any old Master, he would. That was when he wanted to go sailing Sunday afternoon and Mr. Seth said ‘no.’
“Monty’s real smooth outside but he has prickly tempers sometimes; and I guess he – he sort of ‘sassed’ the Master, ’cause he refused to give us any money to hire a sail boat and Monty hadn’t any left himself. But it all blew over. Mr. Seth doesn’t seem to mind Monty any more’n he does his tortoise-shell cat; and he’s a very nice boy, a very nice boy, indeed. So are they all. I’m proud of them all. So is Mabel. So is Molly B. Those two are so proud they squabble quite consid’able over which is the nicest, and the boys just laugh.
“Oh! I must stop. It’s getting real near breakfast time; and dear Aunt Betty, will you please send me another one hundred dollars by the return of the mail? I mean as quick as you can. You see to-day, we’re going around visiting ‘Headquarters’ of all the revolution people. There’s a lot of them and they won’t cost anything to see; but to-morrow there’s ‘The Greatest Show on Earth’ coming to Newburgh and I must take my guests to it. I really must.
“Good-by, darling Aunt Betty.
”“Dorothy.“P. S. – I’ve heard that people can telegraph money and that it goes quicker that way. Please do it.
“D.“P. P. S. – Mr Seth says that this Headquartering will be as good as the circus, but it isn’t easy to believe; and Melvin isn’t particularly pleased over the trip. I suppose that’s because our folks whipped his; and please be sure to telegraph the money at once. The tickets are fifty cents a-piece and ten cents extra for every side-show; and Molly and I have ciphered it out that it will take a lot, more’n I’d like to have the Master pay, generous as he is. Isn’t it lovely to be a rich girl and just ask for as much money as you want and get it? Oh! I love you, Aunt Betty!
“Dorothy; for sure the last time.”One of the men was going to early market and by him the writer dispatched this epistle. Promptly posted, it reached Mrs. Calvert that morning, who replied as promptly and by telegram as her young relative had requested. The yellow envelope was awaiting Dorothy that evening, when she came home from “Headquartering” with her guests, and she opened it eagerly.
But there seemed something wrong with the message. Having read it in silence once – twice – three times, she crumpled it in her hand and dashed out of the room scarlet with shame and anger.
CHAPTER IX
HEADQUARTERS
“Well, lads and lassies – or lassies and lads, it’s due you to hear all I’ve found out concerning Ananias and Sapphira. I don’t believe that those are their real names but I’ve heard no other. The curious old man who left them here is, presumably, insane on the subject of religion. He appeared on the mountain early in the summer, with these little ones, and preëmpted that tumble-down cottage over the bluff beyond our gates. Most of you know it by sight; eh?”
“Yes, indeed! It looks as if it had been thrown over the edge of the road, just there where it’s so steep. Old Griselda, the lodge-keeper’s wife I live with claims it’s haunted, and always has been. Hans says not, except by tramps and such,” answered James Barlow.
“Tramps? Are tramps on this mountain? Oh! I don’t like that. I’d have been afraid to come if I’d known that!” protested Molly Breckenridge with a little shiver.
Of course they all laughed at her and Monty valiantly assured her:
“Don’t you worry. I’m here.” Then added as an after-thought, “and so are the other boys.”
Laughter came easily that Monday morning and it was Monty’s turn to get his share of it, and he accepted it with great good nature. They were such a happy company with almost a whole week of unknown enjoyment before them, and the gravity of Mr. Seth’s face did not affect their own hilarity. Dorothy had confided to Alfaretta that she had written to Mrs. Calvert for “another hundred dollars” and the matter was a “secret” between these two.
“You, Alfy dear, because you never had, and likely never will have, a hundred dollars of your own, may have the privilege of planning what we will do with mine. That’s to prove I love you; and if you plan nice things – real nice ones, Alfy – I’ll spend it just as you want.”
Sensible, but not too-sensitive, Alfaretta shook her head, and asked:
“Do you know how to make a hare pie?”
“Why, of course not. How should I? I’m not a cook!”
“First catch your hare! You haven’t got your money yet and I shan’t wear my brains out, plannin’ no plans – yet. You couldn’t get up nicer times’n the Master does, and he hasn’t spent a cent on this House Party, so far forth as I know, savin’ what he put in the collection plate to church, yesterday. Come on; he promised to tell all he’d found out about the twinses and all the rest of us is listenin’ to him now.”
So Dorothy had followed to the wide piazza where the young people had grouped themselves affectionately about their beloved Master; who now repeated for the newcomers’ information:
“The old man is the children’s grandfather, on their father’s side. The twins are orphans, whom the mother’s family repudiate, and he has cared for them, off and on, ever since their father died, as their mother did when they were born.”
“Oh! the poor little creatures!” cried Helena Montaigne, and snuggled a twin to her side; while there were tears in Molly Breckenridge’s eyes as she caressed the other.
“I said ‘off and on.’ The off times are when the old man is seized by the desire to preach to anyone who will listen. Then he wanders away, sleeps where the night finds him, and eats what charity bestows. Ordinarily, he does not so much as place the babies anywhere; just leaves them to chance. When they are with him he is very stern with them, punishing them severely if they disobey his least command; and they are greatly afraid of him. Well, here they are! I’ve tried to place them elsewhere, in a legitimate home; but I hesitate about an Orphanage until – Time sometimes softens hard hearts!” with this curious ending Mr. Winters relapsed into a profound reverie and nobody presumed to disturb him.
Until Mabel Bruce suddenly demanded:
“Where’s their other clothes?”
The farrier laughed. Mabel was an interesting study to him. He had never seen a little girl just like her; and he answered promptly:
“That’s what neither Norah nor I can find out. Only from the appearance of some ashes in the fireplace of the hut I fear they have been burned. I took Norah down there early this morning, for a woman sees more than a man, but even she was disappointed. However, that’s easily remedied. One of the Headquarters we shall visit is in Newburgh, where are also many shops. Some of you girls must take the little tackers to one of these places and outfit them with what is actually needed. Nothing more; and I will pay the bill.”
“Beg pardon, Mr. Seth, but you will not! I will pay myself,” cried Dorothy, eagerly.
“With what, Dolly dear? I thought you were the most impecunious young person of the lot.”
“I am – just now; but I shan’t be long,” answered the young hostess, with a confident wink in Alfaretta’s direction. To which that matter-of-fact maid replied by a contemptuous toss of her head and the enigmatical words:
“Hare pie!”
“Wagons all ready, Mr. Winters!” announced a stable boy, appearing around the house corner.
“Passengers all ready!” shouted Danny Smith, perhaps the very happiest member of that happy Party. Never in his short, hard-worked life had he recreated for a whole week, with no chores to do, no reprimands to hear, and no solitude in distant corn-fields where the only sound he heard was the whack-whack of his own hoe. A week of idleness, jolly companionship, feasting and luxury – Danny had to rub his eyes, sometimes, to see if he were really awake.
“All ready, all?”
“All ready!”
Much in the order of their Sunday’s division they settled themselves for the drive to Newburgh, where the first stop was to be made, except that Molly Breckenridge declared she must ride beside Dorothy, having something most important to discuss with her friend. Also, she insisted that the twins ride with them, on the wagon-bottom between their feet.
“They can’t fall out that way, and it’s about them – I’ll tell everybody later.”
It was an hour when nobody wished to dash the pleasure of anybody else, so Mr. Seth nodded compliance; saying:
“Then I’ll take this other little lady alongside myself!” and lifted Luna to the place.
This time she showed neither fear nor hesitation. She accepted the situation with that blankly smiling countenance she wore when she was physically comfortable, and the horses had not traveled far before her head drooped against the Master’s shoulder, as it had against Dorothy’s, and she fell asleep.
“Poor thing! She has so little strength. She looks well but the least exertion exhausts her. Like one who has been imprisoned till he has lost the use of his limbs. I wonder who she is! I wonder, are we doing right not to advertise her!” thought the farrier; then contented himself with his former arguments against the advertising and the fact that Mrs. Calvert would soon be coming home and would decide the matter at once.
“Cousin Betty can solve many a riddle, and will this one. Meanwhile, the waif is well cared for and as happy as she can ever be, I fancy. Best not to disturb her yet.”
When the wagon stopped at the door of the old stone Headquarters on the outskirts of Newburgh city, Helena said:
“It will save time, Mr. Winters, if some of us drive on to the business streets and do the shopping for these twins. I’m familiar with this old house – have often brought our guests to see it; so I could help in the errands.”
“And I!” “And I!” cried Molly and Dolly, together. “Our school used to come here to study history, sometimes, right from the very things themselves. Besides – ” Here Molly gave her chum such a pinch on the arm that Dolly ended her explanation with a squeal.
So it was quickly settled. Mr. Winters handed Helena his purse, which she at first politely declined to take – having designs herself in that line. But when he as courteously and firmly insisted, she took it and said no more. Helena Montaigne would never carry her own wishes to the point of rudeness; yet in her heart she was longing to clothe the really pretty children after a fancy of her own. However, she put this wish aside, and the three girls with the orphans were swiftly driven to the best department stores the city afforded.
Here trouble awaited. At the statement that one was a girl and one a boy – which her own perception would not have taught her – the saleswoman produced garments suitable for the two sexes.
“Now which shall I fit first?” she asked smiling at the close resemblance of the pair.
“Why, ladies first, I suppose!” laughed Helena and moved one child forward. The other immediately placed itself alongside, and Molly exclaimed:
“Now, I don’t know which is which! Anybody got a ribbon? or anything will answer to tie upon one and so distinguish them. Baby, which are you?”
The twin she had clasped smiled at her seraphically but made no reply; merely cocked its flaxen head aside and thrust its finger in mouth. At once its mate did likewise, and Helena tossed her hands in comical dismay.
“Oh! Get the ribbon, please! Then we’ll make them spell themselves and tie the mark on before we forget.”
So they did; and the attendant listened in amusement to the performance; till finding themselves of so much interest to others the midgets began again glibly to spell and – both together. Prancing and giggling, fully realizing their own mischievousness, the babies made that hour of shopping one which all concerned – save themselves – long remembered. Also, if there were the slightest difference between the garments selected for them they set up such a violent protest that peace could only be restored by clothing them alike.
So they emerged from the establishment clad in snowy little suits that seemed as fitting for a girl as for a boy, with pretty hats which they elected to wear upon their backs, and sandals on their stubby feet – the nearest approach to shoes to which they would submit. A big box of suitable underwear was put into the wagon and they were lifted in after it, while Molly begged to walk a block or two till she found a confectioner’s.
Here she expended all her pocket-money, and climbing back beside Dorothy politely opened her big box and offered it to her friends. Incidentally, to the twins; who stared, tasted, and stared again!
“My heart! I don’t believe they have ever tasted candy! They don’t know what it means!” cried Molly, laughing.
They soon found out. In a flash they had seized the pasteboard box and snuggled it between them. Then with it securely wedged beneath their knees they proceeded to empty it at lightning speed.
“Why! I never saw anything eat like that, not even a dog! You can’t see them swallow!” said Helena, amazed. “They’re getting themselves all daubed with that chocolate, too – The pity!”
“Give it back to me, at once!” commanded Molly sternly, but she spoke to unhearing ears. Then she tried to snatch it away, but they were too strong for her, as anybody who has ever thus contested with sturdy five-year-olds can guess.
“They’ll make themselves ill! and they’ll ruin their new clothes. What will Mr. Winters say? Molly, how could you!” wailed Dorothy. “I wish we’d never brought them. I mean, I wish you hadn’t thought of candy. I wish – ”
“You’d hold your tongue!” snapped Molly, so viciously that her friends both stared and Dolly said no more. “I don’t mean to be so horrid, girls, but it is so vexatious! I’d spent all I had and meant it to be such an addition to our picnic dinner in the woods. I’m ashamed – course – and I apologize. Though I remember Miss Penelope says that apologies and explanations are almost worse than useless. Besides – ”
Here Molly paused and looked at Dorothy most meaningly; but whatever she meant to say further Dolly stopped by a shake of her head, adding:
“Now it’s my turn to apologize, Helena dear, but there’s something we two have in mind that we want to spring on the whole lot of you at once. Will you forgive and wait?”
“Surely. But – those children! I hope we’ll get back to the others soon and that Mr. Winters will have more influence with them than we’ve had.”
It proved that he had. One glance and word from him and the twins cowered as if they expected cruel blows, and without the slightest resistance permitted him to take away the nearly empty box.
“Doesn’t look very tempting now, I think. Best throw it away, especially as I had already provided sweeties for the crowd. Now, lads, westward ho! It’s nearly dinner time again, and I believe it’s being with so many other hungry youngsters makes me one too!” cried the Master, stepping to his place and saying with an air of authority which nobody disputed: “Hand over the twins. I’ll take them under my care for the rest of this day!”
The Headquarters which they were next to visit, and on whose grounds they were to picnic, was bordered by a stream that just there widened into a little lake. As they approached the place, cramped by their long ride, most of the lads left the wagons to finish the distance on foot.