Marjorie at Seacote Part 45

So Cousin Jack recited this poem:

"THE WAYS OF THE WILD

"There's nothing quite so nice to do As pay a visit to the zoo, And see beasts that, at different times, Were brought from strange and distant climes.

I love to watch the tapirs tape; I stand intent, with mouth agape.

Then I observe the vipers vipe; They're a most interesting type.

I love to see the beavers beave; Indeed, you scarcely would believe That they can beave so cleverly, Almost as well as you or me.

And then I pa.s.s along, and lo!

Panthers are panthing to and fro.

And in the next cage I can see The badgers badging merrily.

Oh, the dear beasties at the zoo, What entertaining things they do!"

"That's fine!" exclaimed Midget. "I didn't know we were going to have a _real_ entertainment!"

"Very good, Jacky!" p.r.o.nounced King. "I shall mark you ten in declamation. You're a good declaimer. Now, Teddy Maynard, it's your turn."

"Mine is real oratory," declared Mr. Maynard, as he rose from his seat.

"But I find that so many fine oratorical pieces fizzle out after their first lines, that I just pick out the best lines and use them for declamation. Now, you can see how well my plan works."

He struck an att.i.tude, bowed to each of his audience separately, cleared his throat impressively, and then began to declaim in a stilted, stagey voice, and with absurd dramatic gestures:

"THE ART OF ELOCUTION

"The n.o.ble songs of n.o.ble deeds of bravery or glory Are much enhanced if they're declaimed with stirring oratory.

I love sonorous words that roll like billows o'er the seas; These I recite like Cicero or like Demosthenes.

"And so, from every poem what is worthy I select; I use the phrases I like best, the others I reject; And thus, I claim, that I have found the logical solution Of difficulties that attend the art of elocution.

"Whence come these shrieks so wild and shrill? Across the sands o' Dee?

Lo, I will stand at thy right hand and keep the bridge with thee!

For this was Tell a hero? For this did Gessler die?

'The curse is come upon me!' said the Spider to the Fly.

"When Britain first at Heaven's command said, 'Boatswain, do not tarry; The despot's heel is on thy sh.o.r.e, and while ye may, go marry.'

Let dogs delight to bark and bite the British Grenadiers, Lars Porsena of Clusium lay dying in Algiers!

"Old Grimes is dead! Ring out, wild bells! And shall Trelawney die?

Then twenty thousand Cornishmen are comin' thro' the rye!

The Blessed Damozel leaned out,--she was eight years old _she said_!

Lord Lovel stood at his castle gate, whence all but him had fled.

"Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! Only three grains of corn!

Stay, Lady, stay! for mercy's sake! and wind the bugle horn.

The glittering knife descends--descends--Hark, hark, the foeman's cry!

The world is all a fleeting show! Said Gilpin, 'So am I!'

"The sea! the sea! the open sea! Roll on, roll on, thou deep!

Maxwelton braes are bonny, but Macbeth hath murdered sleep!

Answer me, burning shades of night! what's Hecuba to me?

Alone stood brave Horatius! The boy--oh, where was he?"

"Oh, Father!" cried Marjorie, as Mr. Maynard finished, "did you really make that up? Or did you find it in a book?"

But Mr. Maynard wouldn't tell, and only accepted the praise heaped upon him, with a foolish smirk, like an embarra.s.sed schoolboy.

"Now, children, school is out," said Midget, "and it's about luncheon time. So go and tidy yourselves up to come to the table. You're always sending us to tidy up, Mother, so now you can see what a nuisance it is!

Run along, and come back as quickly as you can, for luncheon is nearly ready."

The four grown-ups went away to tidy up, and King and Midget made further plans for this new game. It was still raining, so there was no hope of going motoring, and they concluded they were having enough fun at home to make up for it.

But when the four "children" returned, they looked at them a moment in silent astonishment, and then burst into shrieks of laughter.

Mr. Maynard and Mr. Bryant had transformed themselves into boys, by brushing their hair down very wet and straight, and wearing large, round collars made of white paper, and tied with enormous bows. They looked funny enough, but the two ladies were funnier still. Mrs. Maynard had her hair in two long pigtails tied with huge ribbons, and Cousin Ethel had her hair in bunches of curls, also tied with big bows. They both wore white bib ap.r.o.ns, and carried foolish-looking dolls which they had made out of pillows, tied round with string.

"You _dear_ children!" cried Midget; "I think you are lovely! Come along to luncheon."

The "children" politely let King and Midget go first, and they followed, giggling. Sarah, the waitress, was overcome with amus.e.m.e.nt, but she managed to keep a straight face, as the comical-looking procession filed in.

King and Marjorie appropriated their parents' seats, and the others sat at the sides of the table.

"No, Helen, dear," said Midget, "you can't have any tea. It isn't good for little girls. You may have a gla.s.s of milk, if you wish."

"I don't think these lobster croquettes are good for Jack," said King, looking wisely at Midget; "they're very rich, and he's subject to indigestion."

"I am not!" declared Cousin Jack, looking longingly at the tempting croquettes, for which Ellen was famous.

"There, there, my child," said Marjorie; "don't contradict your father.

Perhaps he could have a half of one, King."

"Yes, that would scarcely make him ill," and King gave Cousin Jack a portion of one small croquette, which he ate up at once, and found to be merely an aggravation.

"Oh, no! no pie for Edward," said Marjorie, when a delicious lemon meringue made its appearance. "Pie is entirely unsuitable for children!

He may have a nice baked apple."

And Mr. Maynard was plucky enough to eat his baked apple without a murmur, for he remembered that often he had advised Mrs. Maynard against giving the children pie.

To be sure, the pie would not harm the grown people, but Mr. Maynard had agreed to "play the game," and it was his nature to do thoroughly whatever he undertook.

CHAPTER XIX

MORE FUN

"Now, Helen," said Marjorie, as they left the dining-room, "you must practise for an hour."