Peggy Raymond's Vacation Part 16

The experiment which had marked such an advance in the education of Mrs.

Snooks had proved equally beneficial to Ruth's health. There is no panacea like laughter. Since Ruth had been spared the ordeal of requesting the loan of any of Mrs. Snooks' belongings, her enjoyment of the situation had been unqualified and she had laughed most of the day, and even waked once or twice during the night to find herself still chuckling. By morning her manner had lost every trace of la.s.situde and her a.s.surance that she felt as well as ever was accepted by the household without question.

The final obstacle in the way of the boys' long deferred tramp was now removed. Still another last day was celebrated with fitting ceremonies, and the Snooks' roof sheltered the wanderers for positively the last time. Graham and Jack had made their farewells the previous evening, as they were to start early, and Ruth's suggestion of rising to see them off was immediately vetoed by her brother.

"You won't do any such thing. Why should you miss two or three hours of sleep for the sake of saying good-by to-morrow morning, when you can just as well say it to-night?" Yet for all his masculine a.s.sumption of superiority to sentiment Graham was conscious of a little pang of disappointment as he and Jack pa.s.sed Dolittle Cottage, in the dewy freshness of the summer morning. He had more than half expected to see a hand or two flutter at a window, in token that their departure was not unnoticed.

"'How can I bear to leave thee,'" hummed Jack under his breath, and his smile was a little mischievous. Graham regarded him disdainfully, and Jack, breaking off his song, hastened to say: "Well, they're as nice a crowd of girls as we'd find anywhere, if we tramped from here to the Pacific coast."

"You're right about that," Graham returned, mollified, and then the boys, turning the bend of the road, halted as abruptly as if a highwayman had checked their advance. For hidden from sight by a tangled thicket of underbrush and vines, five girls in white shirt-waists and short skirts were waiting their arrival. The girls shrieked delightedly at the amazement depicted on the countenances of the two knights of the road.

"Now, don't try to pretend that you were expecting this all the time.

You know you never thought of it," Ruth cried, slipping her hand through her brother's arm, and giving it a fond squeeze.

"Of course I never thought of it. Only a girl could originate such a brilliant idea." The a.s.sumed sarcasm of Graham's rejoinder could not conceal his pleasure, and Ruth flashed a satisfied glance at Peggy, who met it with a twinkle of understanding.

"We're only going to walk about a mile," explained Peggy, as the procession moved forward. "We know you want to make a record, your first day out. And, besides, we haven't had a real breakfast yet, only crackers and milk."

It was a long mile that they traversed before parting company, as the girls found when they came to retrace their steps. Familiar as they thought themselves with the vicinity, the sunrise world was full of delightful surprises. There was magic in the air, and the winding road lured them ahead, as if it had been an enchanted path leading to fairyland.

"I wish somebody'd go away early every morning," Amy sighed from a full heart, "and give us an excuse for getting up early. To think of sleeping away hours like this."

"It's a pity we didn't leave long ago," suggested Jack Rynson, between whom and Amy there existed a sort of armed truce, "so that you could discover what a country morning was like." But before Amy could form a sufficiently withering reply, a tiny bird, perched on the topmost bough of a neighboring tree, had burst into such music that the little party stood silenced, and even playful bickering was forgotten.

Something of the magic of the morning vanished, it must be confessed, when the farewells could no longer be postponed, and the girls turned their faces toward Dolittle Cottage. "The worst of nice things," said Ruth crossly, "is that you miss them so when they stop."

"It's only half-past six now," announced Priscilla, consulting her watch. "Goodness! What are we going to do with a day as long as this?"

"I know what I'm going to do with part of it," said Peggy. "I'm going to give Lucy Haines a good boost on her algebra. There's been so much going on since the boys came, that she's felt shy about dropping in. Afraid of interfering, you know. But I sent word to her by Jerry, yesterday, that I should expect her this afternoon."

As it proved, it was not a difficult matter to occupy the long day, since each hour brought its own occupation and a little to spare. At the threshold of the cottage they were met by startling news, Dorothy hurrying out importantly to make the announcement.

"One of your little chickens has goned to Heaven, Aunt Peggy. A big bird angel took it."

"What on earth does she mean?" Peggy demanded in a perplexity not unnatural, considering the highly idealized character of Dorothy's report. It was left to Aunt Abigail to translate the catastrophe into prose. The Dolittle Cottagers were not the only early risers that fine morning. A big hawk, up betimes, and looking for his breakfast, had selected as a choice t.i.t-bit, one of the yellow hen's fast diminishing brood. Peggy felt that she could have borne it better had it not been for the unimpaired cheerfulness of the yellow hen's demeanor.

The discussion of the tragedy delayed breakfast, and when the household finally gathered about the round table, it was a little after the regular breakfast hour rather than earlier. And, as sometimes happens, dinner seemed to follow close on the heels of breakfast, and directly after dinner, came Lucy Haines. Lucy's manner of accepting a kindness always betrayed a little hesitancy, as if her independent spirit dreaded the possibility of incurring too heavy a weight of obligation. But usually after a little time in Peggy's society, that air of constraint disappeared, greatly to Peggy's satisfaction.

That afternoon session was a protracted one. Lucy's attempt to master algebra without a teacher, had been not unlike the efforts of a mariner to navigate without a chart. Lucy's little craft had struck many a reef, and was aground hard and fast, when the tug "Peggy" steamed up alongside. The fascination of discovering a key to mysteries seemingly impenetrable rendered Lucy as oblivious to the flight of time as Peggy herself. When the girls on the porch called in to ask the time, and Peggy glancing at the clock in the corner, replied that it was half-past four, Lucy let her book drop in her consternation. Instantly her face was aflame.

"Oh, it can't be," she said in dismay. "I can't have been here three hours. What must you think of me?"

Peggy looked at her in a surprise more soothing to the girl's sensitive pride than any amount of polite protest.

"Why, I've enjoyed every minute," she said simply. "And I think we're beginning to see daylight, don't you?"

"Indeed I do. I didn't believe that such puzzling things could get so clear in one afternoon. And I can't begin to thank you." Lucy gathered up her belongings and made a hasty exit, while Peggy followed her out upon the porch.

"Hasn't Dorothy come yet, girls? Then wait a minute." This last to Lucy.

"I'll get my hat and walk part way with you. I told Dorothy she might play with little Annie Cole this afternoon but it's time she was home."

The two girls had covered about half the distance to the farmhouse, when they were met by Rosetta Muriel who nodded, cordially to Peggy, and stiffly to her companion. "We thought it was time Annie was coming home," she explained. "Ma said you folks would get tired having her 'round. So I was just going for her."

The color had receded from Peggy's face in the course of this explanation. "Annie! Why, I thought--"

"Ma told her she could go over to play with Dorothy. Didn't she come?"

"Why, I haven't seen her. I told Dorothy she might go to play with Annie."

There was a frightened catch in Peggy's voice. Rosetta Muriel hastened to rea.s.sure her, though with a distinct touch of patronage.

"It's nothing to get fidgety about. Those young ones are up to some mischief, that's all. Our Annie's a whole team all by herself as far as cutting up goes, and I guess your Dorothy is another of the same kind."

"But where can they be?" faltered poor Peggy, too engrossed with that all-important question to be concerned as to the implied criticism of her small kinswoman.

"Oh, they're about the farm somewhere, I s'pose. You needn't worry. That Annie of ours is always getting into the awfulest sc.r.a.pes, but, you see, she hasn't been killed yet."

With this modified comfort, Rosetta Muriel led the searching party.

Peggy followed, looking rather white in spite of repeatedly a.s.suring herself that the children were sure to be safe. Lucy Haines brought up the rear, because she could not bear to go her way till Peggy's anxiety was relieved.

The investigation of several of Annie's favorite haunts proved fruitless, and Rosetta Muriel began to show signs of temper. "Looks like they've gone down to the pond. That's a good quarter of a mile, and I've got on satin slippers." She held out an unsuitably clad foot for Peggy to admire, but Peggy was thinking of other matters than French heeled slippers. "The pond! Is it very deep?"

"No, indeed. But ma don't like--"

Lucy Haines interrupted the explanation by a stifled cry, which from a girl so self-controlled meant more than a fit of hysterical screaming on the part of one differently const.i.tuted. Peggy whirled about.

In the adjoining pasture separated from them by a low stone wall, was a fantastic spectacle, worthy a midsummer night's dream. Down the slope, snorting as he ran, galloped a full sized boar, his formidable tusks grotesquely emphasizing his terrified demeanor. The fairy-like figure perched on his back and holding fast by his ears, was Dorothy. And behind ran Annie, plying a switch and shouting commands intended to hasten the speed of the frightened charger.

As if she were in a dream, Peggy heard behind her the horrified whisper of Rosetta Muriel. "They'll be killed!" gasped the girl. "Why, that boar's dangerous!" Then her fear found voice and she screamed. At the sound Annie looked up, and halted in her tracks. Dorothy, too, lifted her eyes and straightway fell off her flying steed. And the boar, apparently uncertain as to what might happen next, lost no time in putting s.p.a.ce between himself and his late tormentors. He turned and galloped up the slope in a frenzy of fear highly ludicrous under the circ.u.mstances. Unluckily none of the lookers-on were in a mood to appreciate the humor of the situation.

Peggy reached Dorothy about the time that the fallen equestrienne was picking herself up, her face rueful, for she realized that the hour of reckoning had come. A moment later Rosetta Muriel had pounced on Annie, and, as an indication of sisterly authority, was boxing both ears impartially.

"You little piece! You might have been killed, and it would have served you right. I don't believe you'll ever be anything better than a tomboy as long as you live. If I was ma, I'd lick these tricks out of you, you bet."

The frantic child, between her sister's blows and angry words, was more like a furious little animal than a human being. Struggling in Rosetta Muriel's grip, her face crimson with pa.s.sion, she showed herself ready to use tooth and nail indiscriminately in order to free herself. For all her advantage in size and strength, Rosetta Muriel was unable to cope with so ferocious an antagonist. She solved the problem by giving Annie a violent push, as she released her hold. The child struck the ground at some distance and with a force which brought Peggy's heart into her mouth. But immediately Annie scrambled to her feet, her face scratched and bleeding, and started toward home, screaming as she went, though less from pain than from anger.

"That brat!" cried Rosetta Muriel breathing fast. Then her eyes fell on Peggy, standing in disdainful quiet, and her expression showed uncertainty. Rosetta Muriel was hardly capable of appreciating that for one in a fit of pa.s.sion to attempt to correct a child is the height of absurdity, but she recognized the indignation Peggy took no pains to hide.

"Does seem sometimes," observed Rosetta Muriel with an unsuccessful effort to regain the air of languor which she imagined the badge of good breeding, "as if nothing I could do would make a lady out of that young one."

"I should think not," replied Peggy, and it was not her fault if Rosetta Muriel thought the remark ambiguous. "Good night," she added hastily and turned away, fearful that a longer interview would bring her to the point of speaking her mind with a plainness hardly allowable on slight acquaintance. Like many people noted for tact and consideration, Peggy, when driven to frankness, left nothing unsaid that would throw light on the situation.

Dorothy walked at her aunt's side with chastened step. In the chaos of feeling into which Rosetta Muriel's unwise discipline had plunged her small sister, there was little chance for the voice of Annie's conscience to make itself heard. But Dorothy, on the other hand, was the prey of conscientious qualms. She had been naughty. Annie's angry big sister had said they might have been killed, which, from Dorothy's standpoint, was censurable in the extreme.

"Aunt Peggy," she began at last, in such a forlorn little pipe that Peggy was forced to steel herself against an immediate softening of heart. "Aunt Peggy, I guess you'd better whip me. If you send me to bed 'thout any supper it wouldn't make me a good girl a bit, 'cause me and Annie ate lots of cookies and I don't want any supper, anyway."

Peggy studied the sunset earnestly before she could trust herself to reply.

"Dorothy, how often have you and Annie done what you did to-day?"