The Merryweathers Part 12

"You certainly are like 'it,'" said Gertrude, laughing, "and 'it'

certainly is a dear old thing. Go on, please. We are all longing to hear the list."

Peggy threw her a kiss, and went on.

"'I will not give you all the lists, for that would take up all the rest of my letter; but here is the one we finally made out. There are three females, and five males, you know: _Cleopatra_, _Meg_ (Merrilies; that was Flora's, because she is just reading "Guy Mannering"), _Diana_, _Guy_ (for the same reason), _Shot_, _Hector_, _Ajax_, and _Magpie_.'

"Well, I do think that is a queer list," Peggy concluded, folding up the letter. "I wish they had called one 'Gray Brother,' or 'Bagheera.'"

"But they are not wolves or panthers," objected Mr. Merryweather. "I should say that was a very fair list of names, Peggy, as names go. It is always hard to find a good name for a dog. 'Shot' is an excellent name.

We had a good old dog named Shot, and I have always liked the name."

"Mammy," said Bell, "are we not to hear something from you?"

"From me, my dear?" repeated Mrs. Merryweather. "What would you like to hear?"

"I should think you were an amiable gramophone," replied her daughter, with affectionate disrespect. "And I _think_ you really know what I mean, madam, in spite of that innocent look. On reading your letters, you and Jerry exclaimed: 'Well, well!' and 'Sapolio!' at the same instant, and your letters are on the same kind of paper, I cannot help seeing that. Have you something to break to us? 'Sapolio' is a baleful utterance, delivered as Jerry delivered it just now."

"Gee! I should think it was!" muttered Gerald, gloomily. He had brightened up while Peggy was reading her letter, but now his usually bright face was clouded with unmistakable vexation.

"Oh!" said Mrs. Merryweather, with what seemed a rather elaborately cheerful expression. "My letter? It is from Cousin Anna Belleville. She tells me that Claud has been with her at Bar Harbor for some time, and that he is coming to visit us on his way back. He will be here some day next week, she thinks."

A certain pensiveness stole over the aspect of the Merryweathers. Bell and Gertrude exchanged a swift glance, but said nothing. Gerald whistled, "Wrap me up in my tarpaulin jacket!"

After a brief silence, Mr. Merryweather said, thoughtfully, "I was thinking of taking the boys off on a camping trip next week."

"You cannot, Miles," said his wife, quickly. "It is out of the question."

"Oh, certainly," said Mr. Merryweather. "I only--a--quite so!"

He relapsed into inarticulate murmurs over his pipe. Mrs. Merryweather, after a reproachful glance at him, turned to Gerald, as she folded her letter. "You have a letter from Claud, Gerald?" she asked, cheerfully.

"I have, madam," said Gerald, with a brow of thunder. "He informs me that he is looking forward with the greatest pleasure to roughing it a bit with us, and says that we must make no preparations, but let him take things just as they are. He's a Christian soul, that's what he is."

"What is to be the order of the evening?" asked Mrs. Merryweather, addressing Bell with a shade of warning in her voice. "Are we to have games, or boat-building?"

"Oh! boat-building! the regatta is to-morrow, and we are not half ready."

There was a general rush toward cupboards and lockers, and in an incredibly short s.p.a.ce of time the whole room was a pleasant litter of chips, shingles, and brown paper. The rules for the regattas at Merryweather were few and simple. All boats must be built by their owners, unaided; no boat must be over a foot long from stem to stern; all sails must be of paper. Aside from these limitations, the fancies of the campers might roam at will; accordingly, the boats were of every shape and description, from Kitty's shingle, ballasted with pebbles, to Phil's elaborate catamaran. Peggy was struggling with a stout and somewhat "nubbly" piece of wood, which was slowly shaping itself under the vigorous strokes of her jack-knife.

"She's coming on!" Peggy declared, cheerfully. "She really begins to look quite like a boat now, doesn't she, Mr. Merryweather?"

"Certainly!" the Chief a.s.sented. "I don't see why she should not make a very good boat, Peggy. I would round off her stern a bit, if I were you.

So! that's better."

"What is her name, Peggy?" inquired Mrs. Merryweather. "I must be entering the names in the Log."

"The _Lovely Peggy_, of course!" said Phil. "What else should it be?"

"It might be the _Limavaddy_!" said Gerald.

"Gerald, I _wish_ you would tell me what you mean by 'Limavaddy,'" said Peggy. "It sounds like--I don't know what; tea-caddy, or something like that. Mrs. Merryweather, won't you tell me what it means?"

"It is a compliment he is paying you, Peggy," said her hostess, smiling.

"Peg of Limavaddy is the charming heroine of a charming ballad of Thackeray's.

"'This I do declare, Happy is the laddy Who the heart can share Of Peg of Limavaddy.

Married if she were, Blest would be the daddy Of the children fair Of Peg of Limavaddy.

Beauty is not rare In the land of Paddy, Fair beyond compare Is Peg of Limavaddy.'

That is not one of the prettiest stanzas, but it shows you why Gerald has nicknamed you."

"I say with Captain Corcoran," Gerald observed, pausing in the critical adjustment of a sail:

"'Though I'm anything but clever, I could talk like that forever.'

As thus!

"When she makes the tea, Brews it from a caddy, Who so blithe as she, Peg of Limavaddy?

"See her o'er the stove, Broiling of a haddie; Thus she won my love, Peg of Limavaddy.

"But building of a boat, Her success is shady; Bet you she won't float, Peg of Limavaddy!"

"Wait till to-morrow," cried Peggy, laughing, "and you'll see whether she floats or not. And anyhow, she is my first boat. Isn't there a special cla.s.s for beginners, Mr. Merryweather?"

"No, no! no fear or favor shown; the rigor of the game, little Peggy.

Margaret, have you given up?"

"Oh, yes, please, Mr. Merryweather!" said Margaret, looking up from her knitting with a smile. "I could not; it simply was not possible. Gerald was positive at first that he could teach me, but after one lesson he was equally positive that he could not. I needed no conviction, because I knew I could not."

"n.o.body can do absolutely everything," said Gerald, "except the Codger,--I allude to my revered uncle, Margaret,--and I have at times desired to drown him for that qualification. You shall be the starter, Margaret; you'll do that to perfection."

"What are the duties of a starter?" asked Margaret; "I shall be very glad to do anything I really can."

"To sit still and look pretty!" said Gerald, demurely. "I _think_ you can manage it."

"Have I the full list?" asked Mrs. Merryweather. "I'll read it aloud.

"The _Princ.i.p.al Whale_,--Papa."

"I wish you would not call my father names!" murmured Gerald.

"Jerry, do be still!

"The _Tintinnabula_, Bell.

"The _Jollyc.u.mpop_, Gertrude.