Marjorie's Busy Days Part 12

There was a rule against taking schoolbooks out of the cla.s.srooms, but Miss Lawrence so disliked to say 'No' again that she made a special dispensation, and said:

"Yes, do take your geographies out with you. But be very careful not to soil or tear them."

And so the two girls danced away, and all through the recess hour, boats upset and awful sharks swallowed shrieking victims. But, as might have been expected, most of the other children came flying back to the schoolroom for their geographies, and again Miss Lawrence was in a quandary.

"I never saw a child like Marjorie Maynard," she confided to another teacher. "She's the dearest little girl, but she gets up such crazy schemes, and all the others follow in her footsteps."

So, after recess, Miss Lawrence had to make a rule that books could not be used as playthings, even at recess times.

For the rest of the morning, Marjorie was a model pupil.

She studied her lessons for the next day, and though Miss Lawrence glanced at her from time to time, she never saw anything amiss.

But when school was over at one o'clock, Marjorie drew a long breath and fairly flew for her hat.

"Good-bye, dearie," said Miss Lawrence, as Midge pa.s.sed her when the long line filed out.

"Good-bye!" was the smiling response, and in two minutes more Mopsy was skipping and jumping across the playground.

"h.e.l.lo, King!" she called. "Where's Kitty? Oh, here you are! Now we can all go home together. What shall we do this afternoon? I want to do something jolly to take the taste of school out of my mouth."

"Come over to our house and play in the hay," said d.i.c.k Fulton.

"All right, we will. I'll have my practising done by three o'clock, and we'll come then."

A little later, and the three Maynards flew in at their own gate, and found a warm welcome and a specially good luncheon awaiting them.

"I got along pretty well, Mother," said Marjorie, as they all told their morning's experiences. "Only I couldn't help playing paper boats." She told the whole story, and Mrs. Maynard smiled as she said:

"Marjorie, you are incorrigible; but I fear you will only learn by experience----"

"What is incorrigible?" asked Marjorie.

"It's 'most too big a word for you to understand," said her mother, "but it means you must just keep on everlastingly trying to be good."

"I will," said Mops, heartily, and then she turned her attention to the chicken pie before her.

CHAPTER VII

THE JINKS CLUB

Sat.u.r.day was hailed with delight by the four Maynards.

Now that school had begun, a whole playday meant more than it did in vacation time, when all days were playdays.

It was a glorious September day, and as it was an early autumn, many leaves had fallen and lay thick upon the ground.

"I know what to do," said Marjorie, as directly after breakfast they put on hats and coats for outdoor play of some sort. "Let's make leaf-houses."

"All right," said Kingdon, "and let's telephone for the others."

"The others" always meant the two Fultons and Kitty's friend, Dorothy Adams.

Rosy Posy was too little to have a special chum, so Boffin was her companion.

Leaf-houses was a favorite game with all of them, and soon the three guests came skipping through the gate.

The leaves had been raked from the lawn, but down in the orchard they were on the ground like a thick carpet. The orchard had many maples and elms, as well as fruit trees, so there were leaves of all sorts.

"Isn't it fun to scuffle through 'em!" said Marjorie, as she led the way, shuffling along, almost knee-deep in the brown, dry leaves.

"More fun to roll!" cried d.i.c.k, tumbling down and floundering about.

Down went Rosy Posy in imitation of d.i.c.k's performance, and then they all fell into the leaves, and burrowed about like rabbits.

Presently Marjorie's head emerged like a bright-eyed turtle poking out from its sh.e.l.l, and shaking the dead leaves out of her curls, she said: "Come on, let's make houses. King, won't you and d.i.c.k get some rakes?"

The boys flew off to the toolhouse, and came back with several rakes, both wood and iron ones.

"Here's all we can find," said King. "Some of us can rake, and some can build things."

They all set to work with a will, and soon two houses were in process of construction.

These houses were, of course, merely a ground plan, and long, low piles of leaves divided the rooms. Openings in these part.i.tions made doors, and the furniture was also formed of heaps of leaves. A long heap was a sofa, and a smaller heap a chair, while a round, flat heap was a table.

King, Gladys, and Dorothy were one family, while d.i.c.k, Marjorie, and Kitty were the other.

Rosy Posy was supposed to be an orphan child, who lived with one family or the other in turn, as suited her somewhat fickle fancy.

In each family the children represented father, mother, and daughter, and they were pleasantly neighborly, or at odds with each other, as occasion required.

To-day the spirit of adventure was strong in Marjorie, and she decreed they should play robbers.

This was always a good game, so they all agreed.

"First, King's family must be robbed," said Midget; "and then, after you catch us, you rob us."

The burglaries were thus amicably planned, and Kingdon and his family, lying on leaf-couches, fell into a deep, but somewhat noisy slumber.

Indeed, their snoring was loud enough to frighten away most robbers.

Rosy Posy didn't count in this game, so she was allowed to wander in and out of either house.

When the Kingdon family were _very_ sound asleep, the d.i.c.k family crept softly in through the open doors, and endeavored to steal certain valuable silver from the sideboard. This silver was admirably represented by chips and sticks.

d.i.c.k and Marjorie had secured their booty and were carefully sneaking away when King awoke, and with a howl pounced upon Kitty, who was still industriously stealing silver.