The Carter Girls' Week-End Camp Part 11

There was much more talk, however, of the proposed debut and Helen upheld her mother in thinking that since Douglas was not going to college she must come out.

"But, Helen, the money for a debut! And if we go into our house and turn out the desirable tenants, where are we to get an income to exist on?"

"Oh, always money, money! It can be gotten, and mother says our credit is as good as the U. S. mint. She has often heard father say so."

"Of course it was as good, but now that father is no longer able to earn money it would not be quite square to presume on that credit when we have no way of paying the bills." Douglas would go over and over the same argument and Helen would still not be convinced.

"Are we to spend the rest of our lives digging and delving for gold and then not use the money? How does our bank account stand now?"

"I don't know, but it is not so large that we could make a debut on it,"

smiled Douglas.

"But we could make a start and then earn some more."

"But why spend it on me when I don't want to go into society?"

"Why, for mother's sake, goose. She has set her heart on it and you know we have always let her do whatever she wanted to. It would make father miserable to think mother wanted something and could not have it."

"Yes, I know! He mustn't know she wants it and can't have it."

"But she must have it. She is planning all the time for your being a great belle."

"Dr. Wright said that father----" but Helen flounced off, refusing to hear what Dr. Wright said. She had overcome all of her antipathy for that young physician and in fact liked him rather more than anyone of her acquaintance of the male persuasion, but she still resented any tendency on his part to dictate to her.

Mrs. Carter, having given up her trip to White Sulphur, felt that virtue must be rewarded and so actually persuaded Douglas to protect her complexion. She was not allowed to go in the sun at all and in the shade she must wear a great hat tied under her chin, with a curtain of blue veiling draped over it. Every night she must be anointed with some kind of cuc.u.mber cream and her hair must be brushed with one hundred licks every night and morning.

Lewis Somerville and Bill Tinsley made their sorrowful adieux. Everyone missed them. They seemed as important to the camp as the great poplar tree in the center of the pavilion was to that edifice. There was a feeling that everything might topple over now that those two young men were gone. It didn't, however. Skeeter Halsey and Frank Maury did what they could to fill their places, but as they expressed it, they "sho'

did rattle 'round in 'em."

Mr. Carter, too, delighted to be of use and to find something he could do without using his poor f.a.gged brain too much, was busy at something from morning until night. First the reservoir must be repaired after the heavy rain had caved in part of the dam; then the roof of the cabin needed a shingle here and there. A rustic bench must be put by the spring which formed the reservoir, and then a table was added so that afternoon tea might be served there on occasions. He was so busy and so happy in being busy that it was delightful to see him. Bobby was his companion at all times, even deserting the beloved Josh and Josephus to be with his father. This was a new father, one who had time to play and talk. Together they made wonderful little water wheels and put them in a tiny mountain stream where they turned continuously to the delight of Bobby. The successful architect of other days drew plans for bird houses and he and his little son whittled them out of stray bits of lumber and cigar boxes and placed them in the trees, no doubt filling a long felt want for suburban villas in bird society.

The miracle was happening! The cure that Dr. Wright had predicted was taking place. Robert Carter was on the high road to recovery.

CHAPTER X

MR. HIRAM G. PARKER

Susan had been kept very busy all week doing lady's maid work for her mistress. Susan's usefulness in the kitchen was about over, the Carter girls feared. There never seemed to be a moment that she was not wanted to wait on Mrs. Carter. When she took the daintily arranged breakfast tray to the cabin she was kept to fetch and carry and do a million foolish little nothings that an idle woman can always find to occupy other persons. Then the many new dresses must be pressed and white skirts must be laundered. Mrs. Carter always had worn white in the summer, and although washing was something of a problem at the camp, she still must wear white. Not a speck must be on those snowy garments even if it did take all of Susan's time to keep them in condition.

"There is no excuse for letting oneself go even if it is necessary to live in a camp," she would a.s.sert. "I think it is very important to look nice wherever one happens to be."

"It sho' is, Mis' Carter, an' you jes' call on me to washanirn all the things you need. That's what I'm here fur," and Susan, who much preferred the job of lady's maid to that of a.s.sistant cook, gathered up an armful of rumpled skirts and blouses and carried them off to launder.

She adored her mistress and saw no reason at all why the girls need mind doing extra work so that she could give all of her attention to the whims of the mother.

"What's all that?" grumbled Oscar, who saw many reasons why Miss Helen should not be doing Susan's work. "You ain't a-goin' to do no washinanirnin' in this hyar kitchen today. You know puffectly well that them thar week-enders is a-comin' pilin' in hyar this ebenin', all of 'em as empty as gourds."

"Well, these here langery is got to be did up, an' I is got to do 'em up, an' as fur as I know thain't no place to do 'em up but in the kitchen. It's jes' because of some of these here week-enders that they is got to be landered. You is so ign'rant that you don't know that one of these here week-enders what is a-comin' is what Mis' Carter call a arbitrator of sa.s.siety."

"Well, I may be ign'rant but I knows one thing, that ifn a nice little gal named Miss Page Allison hadn't a come in an' helped Miss Helen an'

I, we wouldn't a got breakfast on the table. Miss Gwen warn't here this mornin' cause that ole po' white mounting ooman what she calls Aunt Mandy done took with cramps in the night an' Miss Gwen couldn't leave her. This is a been the busiest week of the camp an' you--you ain't been wuth standin' room in de bad place all week. You an' yo' mistress with yo' langery an' yo' arbors of sa.s.siety. I don't know who he is a-comin'

but whoever he is, he ain't no better'n our folks."

"He's Mr. Hiram G. Parker hisself!"

"What, that little ole Hi Parker? He ain't nuthin'. If he's done riz to the top er sa.s.siety it's caze he's the sc.u.m an' the sc.u.m jes natch'ly gits on top. Who was his folks? Tell me that, who was they? You don't know an' neither do lots er folks but I knows an' he knows. That's the reason he's so partic'lar 'bout who he consorts with. He has to be! Yi!

Yi! He has to be! Arbor er sa.s.siety much! Back po'ch er sa.s.siety, mo'

lak!" and Oscar chuckled with delight at his wit.

"I betcher Mis' Carter better not hear you a-talkin' thataway."

"Well, she ain't a-goin' ter hear me--'cause I ain't a-goin' ter talk thataway befo' her, but that ain't a-keepin' me from knowin' all about little Hi Parker's fo-bars. Thain't much ter know 'cause he warn't troubled with many. His grandpap had a waggin with a bell on it an' went aroun' hollerin: 'Ragsoleioncopperanbra.s.s! Ragsoleioncopperanbra.s.s!' I 'member it mighty well 'cause my mammy uster say she goin' ter thow me in the waggin an' sell me ter ole Parker if I didn't 'have myself."

"Well, howsomever it might a-been, tain't thataway now! Mis' Carter is 'cited over his a-comin'. She done made po' Miss Douglas sleep with some kinder wax on her competence las' night to peel off the remains of the sunburn an' she done made her promus not to wear that there cowboy suit for supper. Mis' Carter says she thinks Miss Douglas oughter be dressed in diafrica.n.u.s interial."

"Humph! The missus is all right, but she better let these here young ladies run this here camp like they been doin'. If they take to dressin'

up it'll mean all yo' time'll be spent pressin' an' fixin' an' I want ter know who'll be a-doin' yo' work. Not me! By the time I get through butlerin' these here week-enders, I ain't got the back ter washanwipe all the dishes."

Susan quietly started the charcoal brazier and put her irons to heat.

She knew that the mistress' word was law and that although Oscar might grumble until he was even blacker in the face than nature had made him, he would go on washing dishes until he dropped in his tracks rather than make a real disturbance.

Nan and Dum Tucker came to the kitchen after breakfast and helped him while Susan washed and ironed the many white things that Mrs. Carter had discarded as too soiled to appear before Mr. Hiram G. Parker.

"I'll wash and you wipe," suggested Nan.

"No, please let me wash," begged Dum, "I adore sloshing in suds."

"Well, they's lots er suds here ter slosh in," grinned Oscar, bringing a great steaming dish pan, "an' if you is so enjoyful of suds, mebbe you young ladies could spare me altogether an' let me pick them there chickens 'gainst it's time ter fry 'em for supper."

"Yes, indeed! Go!" from Dum. "We can do them in no time, can't we, Nan?"

"We can do them, but not in no time," drawled Nan. "I can't think it is right for people to use so many dishes. Wouldn't it be grand to be like Aeneas and put your food on a little cake and then eat the cake?"

"Yes, but if you can't do that, I think the feeders should at least have the grace to lick their plates. What on earth do you do with all the sc.r.a.ps?" asked Dum as she vigorously sc.r.a.ped plates, a part of the work that everyone hates.

"Fatten chickens for killin'," answered Oscar, sharpening a great knife fit for the deed he had to do. "For land's sake, Miss Dum, don't arsk none of the week-enders ter lick they plates. They don't leave nothin'

now for my chickens. The gals even eat the tater peelin's. They say it gwine make they har curl, but they eat so much they don't leave no room for they har ter curl."

Dum and Nan had become fast friends during that week at camp. The several years' difference in their ages was as nothing. The feeling for beauty which both of them had to a great degree was what drew them together. Nan was so quiet and unostentatious in her unselfishness, few at the camp realized how much she did. For instance: the person who cooks a meal is usually praised by the hungry ones, but the person who patiently sc.r.a.pes and washes dishes is hardly thought of at all by the satiated. On that Friday morning, Helen had, with the help of Page, produced a wonderful breakfast; and when these two girls came to that meal flushed but triumphant in the knowledge that their popovers popped over and that their omelettes had risen to the occasion, the breakfasters had given them three rousing cheers. No one thought of who was going to wash up.

While Dum was sloshing in the suds and Nan was busily drying the dishes that piled up to such great heights they looked like ramparts, Page and Helen came in to try their hands at pies for Sat.u.r.day's picnic. Page had on one of Helen's bungalow ap.r.o.ns and seemed as much at home as though she had been born and bred in camp. Page always had that quality of making herself at home wherever she happened to drop. Dee used to say she was just like a kitten and wasn't particular where she was, just so it was pleasant and people were kind.

"What kind of pies shall it be?" asked Helen.

"Something not too squashy!" pleaded Dum. "Nan and I have found the most adorable spot for a picnic: a fallen tree about half a mile around the mountain--not a freshly fallen one but one that must have fallen ages and ages ago as it has decided just to grow horizontally. Any old person could climb up it, just walk up it in fact--such seats were never imagined--the limbs all twisted into armchairs."