Mary's Rainbow Part 15

"But a goat cart is for boys, Berta. Besides only one can ride in it at a time. Father is going to get us something ever so much nicer, but I can't tell what it is just now. They have one at Sunnymead, too."

"Oh, oh! what is it, Mary? Please tell us. _Please_!"

"But that wouldn't be fair, twinnies. Father is going to have it a surprise for you."

"We doesn't like big folkses to make s'prises so very well," murmured Berta.

"And perhaps the 'big folkses' don't like some of those you make, either," laughed Wilhelmina. "There is Aunt Mandy to get you ready for dinner."

"Now, we can think, Wilhelmina."

"But some of the things they said are all right. We have enough toys down there, for with the picture books Dorothy has, her shelf in the toy press in the little ones' playroom will be pretty well filled. The doll bed and carriage ought to be the folding kind, so they will fit on the shelf. How about the other things her father spoke of?"

"It would be nice if she had a little dressing table and a small rocker instead of the stand and chair at her place in the dormitory. Many of the little ones bring their own."

"But a dressing table would be too high for her, wouldn't it?"

"I know just the thing. A large-sized, doll's chiffonnier with a mirror on it. She can keep her handkerchiefs and ribbons and comb and brush and such things in the little drawers. We shall ask Mr. Bond to get a white one and a little, white, wicker rocker." Mary looked over the list. "I think that ought to be enough to do her until Christmas.

The children simply can't have all the toys they would like to bring to school with them. There isn't room for so many."

"Anyone would think that there ought to be all kinds of room in a big building like that; but with two hundred boarders besides all the Sisters, there's not much to spare, that's certain. And not one of our cla.s.s back yet. Trust them to stay out until the last toll of the bell. The ones who live in the city won't show up until five to nine Monday morning. I wish Mother wasn't going home Tuesday. Mother Madeline would let me stay here as long as she does. But she's a dear to promise that I may come over every Wednesday to stay all night and Sat.u.r.day afternoon and all day Sunday. I must try to behave better than I did last year, or she might change her mind."

CHAPTER XIV.

NAMING THE PETS.

"Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, _dear_! They's sech a drefful many things to do, and I doesn't see how we's ever going to do all of them, not ever, ever at all!"

"Not ever, ever at all!"

Mary and Wilhelmina stood still and looked at each other, then burst into a merry laugh. The great bell in the belfry high up over the roof of the convent had just stopped ringing to spread the news that a new school year was about to begin; and the two girls, with two book carriers apiece, were on their way across the lawn to the little gate in the low wall--the little gate, the hinges of which would have no chance now to rust.

"Forever more! What have you children to do that can't just as well be left undone, I should like to know? Even Mary and I don't expect to do any real work to-day. We just have to show up in the study hall and in our cla.s.sroom and see our music teacher and find out where the lessons are for to-morrow. But we don't have to study or recite this morning; and the chances are, we won't have to go back at all this afternoon.

The boarders will be unpacking their trunks, but I know Sister will let me off until Mother has gone. But just what you are groaning about, Berta, is more than I can see."

"Why, w.i.l.l.y-mean, they's ever and ever so many things we must do, and Jack and d.i.c.k won't be here to-morrow to help us, you know, 'cause Aunt Etta said she's going to take them home early, early in the morning-time 'mejetly after breakfus."

"Then I think it is too bad that you should ask them to work on the very last day of their visit. I am sure they did quite enough of that in the city. You ought to play all day and have a jolly time."

"Oh, we don't mind working, Mary; but there's one thing it seems to me we oughtn't to do, and that's sweep all the gravel off the paths and driveway. I told Berta everybody in the country has walks like that; but she thinks the kind you had in the city are nicer, and that if we sweep the little white stones off, we'll find that kind under them."

"No, no, you wouldn't, Berta; and Father won't be one bit pleased if you spoil the walks that way. And Jerry--well, I don't know what Jerry would think of little girls who would do such a thing after all the trouble he has taken to roll them so nice and smooth."

"But--but, Mary, when we fall ourselfs down, we scratch our poor little hands and knees on those old stones, so we do."

"Then play on the gra.s.s where you can't hurt yourselves."

"And who would expect two, great, big girls like you to be tumbling around in such style anyway. Why, even Jack hardly ever falls now, do you, honey?"

"I too big, Willie."

"Of course you are."

"W----ell,--but, w.i.l.l.y-mean, we has _ever_ so many other things we jes'

_must_ do afore d.i.c.k and Jack go, 'cause Beth and I can't possiglee do ev'y single one all by our own selfs. For instinct, we has to think names for the two little kitties Patrick gave us, and for the bunnies and the teapots and the squirrels and all the birdies in the big cage and----"

"All 'cept Polly. She has her own name. She's all the time saying, 'Pretty Polly,' and 'Polly wants a cracker,' and 'Polly's a fine bird,'

and all things same as that," explained Beth.

"You see, w.i.l.l.y-mean, that's the why I said we has so much to do to-day. Even if d.i.c.k and Jack help us, I don't see how we can possiglee think names for ev'ything."

"Then just give the names that you can think of easily, and Wilhelmina and I shall help you when we come home. We must run now, or we shall be late for school, and that wouldn't do at all on the very first morning."

"We's going all the way to the steps with you, Mary."

"But Mother said only to the gate, Beth. Oh, I know what I wish you would do. Ask Mother to let you come over about eleven o'clock. I want the girls to see what fine little brothers Wilhelmina has."

"And I want them to see what dear little sisters Mary has," laughed Wilhelmina.

"And we shall take you to the Kindergarten, and perhaps Sister Benigna will let Dorothy come home with us for the afternoon."

"Oh, goody, goody, good----_ee_! We'll have another tea party, so we will!"

"Ask Jerry for some fruit and flowers to bring to Aunt Mary--that is, if you have time to help him gather them."

"Oh, yes, Mary, we has plenty of time, _plenty_!" And the four raced back toward the house, leaving the two girls shaking with laughter.

The little ones hurried around to the back porch, where the kittens were asleep in a basket. They knelt around it, trying to decide on proper names for these new pets.

"Isn't they jes' too cute for nennything! The yellow one is Beth's, and the black one is mine. Why, Beth, now we has the three little kittens jes' like the ones that lost their mittens. Doesn't you 'member, honey?"

"They look like little b.a.l.l.s of fur, so they does. I jes' can't think of a nice 'nuff name for mine. Can't you 'member us of some nice kitty names, d.i.c.k? w.i.l.l.y-mean helped us name Fluff."

"Seems to me I ought to know some. The big grey cat that lives in our barn to catch the mice is named Tabby."

"Oh, oh! I isn't going to let my little kitty live in _our_ barn. The mice might bite her, so they might. And I isn't going into our barn again my own self, too, not ever, ever at all."

"'Count of the mice? Why, Beth, they'll run a mile when they hear you coming."

But Beth closed her lips very firmly and shook her soft, little, yellow curls.

"Here's Fluff, and I'se 'fraid she doesn't like our new little kitties so very well. w.i.l.l.y-mean says she's----I doesn't quite 'member that name w.i.l.l.y-mean said; does you, Beth?"

"N----no, Berta; but it means 'zactly the same as some little folkses is when they get a nice new little sister or brother. They's so selfish that they doesn't want the new little baby not ever, ever at all, 'cause they's 'fraid ev'ybody might love it the best."