The Wide Awake Girls in Winsted Part 21

"Say, kid, where's the liberrian?"

"I'm liberrian."

"O, come off. Where's the real one? The feller that knows it all, and walks like a seesaw."

"That's Algy," said Elsmere, with fraternal recognition. "Algy's sick.

I'm liberrian."

His questioner looked at him keenly.

"I say, kids, let's us be liberrians. You put the little feller out."

The obedient henchmen put the howling Elsmere down from his seat, and exalted their chief.

"I'm it," said that worthy. "You pick out books you want, and I'll fix 'em up."

The others, nothing loath, picked out certain extra-ill.u.s.trated volumes which Algernon did not allow to circulate, and presented them at the desk, where they helped the presiding official to "fix 'em up" according to methods suggested by intuition combined with a little observation.

"Say, now it's my turn," said one of the subordinates. "You git down and let me. Does that chair screw 'round?"

It did, and in the ensuing scuffle, it not only screwed around but the top fell off, carrying three boys and an a.s.sortment of inks with it.

At the same moment, Max and Archie entered to while away an idle half-hour with the daily paper.

The big boys were prompt, but the little boys were prompter. The back door swung on its hinges and Max and Archie, puffing, e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.n.g. and wrathful, gave over attempts at capture for efforts at repair, Max going off to hunt up Algernon, while Archie gathered up scattered cards and mopped up the ink with dust-cloths.

Seeking Algernon, Max ran across Mrs. Osgood making calls. Hearing his tale, she went back with him to the scene of disaster, and her capable fingers soon brought about some appearance of order, though the intricacies of card systems were beyond her.

"I'd like to know who the rascals are that did it," she said with emphasis; "and I can't see how they got in. Where do you suppose Algernon is?"

"He caught cold yesterday," Archie told her, "but it doesn't seem possible that he would send down anybody who would go off and leave the place open. I saw the little Weed boy, but I didn't know the other two.

They lit out like lightning, and I didn't care to chase them all up Main Street. I was going to the Smiths' to have a cup of tea!" Archie looked ruefully at his soiled garments and dark blue hands. "I wonder if we couldn't get Bertha to come in here. She knows the ins and outs of all these fancy arrangements."

"Berfa isn't to home," remarked a clear sweet voice from the closet.

"Fat's why I had to be liberrian!"

Max threw open the door. Elsmere, on the wood-box, was contentedly jiggling the velvet birds, which had been the first cause of all the excitement.

At the sight of Max's angry face, he jumped up. "I got to go," he said hastily. "I'm awful busy. Must find my cat-p.u.s.s.y. I losted her when she scratched me."

"Sensible cat," growled Archie, taking Elsmere by the collar. "I wish she had losted you. Here, Mrs. Osgood, this seems to be the key to the mystery. At least it's the key to something." He lifted the key dangling from Elsmere's blouse.

"Algy sewed it on me," explained the child.

Mrs. Osgood sighed. "So Algernon is sick, and he sent you after Bertha, and she wasn't at home. I see. Max, you and Archie needn't wait. I'll take the responsibility of closing the library for to-day, and I'd like a private talk with this young gentleman, if you are willing."

Elsmere's eyes brightened.

"Will you pank me?" he asked hopefully. "Dr. Helen pank me when I eat pills. _So!_" In his effort to ill.u.s.trate, he bent so nearly double that he fell over on his nose, and set it bleeding. Max and Archie caught up their hats and fled, leaving Mrs. Osgood to act upon inspiration.

Half an hour later, having by strenuous effort regained something of their former freshness of appearance, the two boys dropped in upon the group on the Three Gables lawn. They stopped a minute to take in the details of the pretty picture. Under a great apple tree, Catherine had set her tea-table with its pretty accessories. In comfortable chairs about it, sat the Boat Club girls, embroidering soft colored things or simply "visiting." Frieda was telling a story, and the others were listening attentively as she stumbled a little now and then in her desire to express herself rapidly.

"And he was there in the water, all the above part of him, and I held his waist. I pulled greatly and in he came lickety split, and what do you think he said? 'I big fish, Frieda. Pull me in and fy me.'"

"That was Elsmere, I'll wager," cried Max, approaching with Archie and giving Catherine his hand. "I'm glad you were talking about him, Miss Frieda, for we're full of the subject. He never said the expected thing in his life. Drowning and spanking are what he needs; the only trouble is that he likes nothing better. But he's beaten his record to-day," and while Archie dropped upon a rug near Hotspur, and incidentally near Bess, who was prettier than ever, and working on an Andover pillow, Max received a cup of tea from Catherine's hands and told his story of the afternoon's episode to a deeply interested audience.

"Poor Algernon!" sighed Polly. "That will make him so much extra work, and he must have his patience tried by that dreadful baby all the time."

"Does no one punish Elsmere except the neighbors?" asked Frieda, whose opinion of the lawlessness of American children was being strengthened daily by Elsmere's performances. Winifred answered, laughing.

"His mother made up her mind to, once. She told me about it. She told him she would not be his mother that day for he had been so bad she was ashamed to own him. Some one had told her that was a sure way to crush a child. But Elsmere was only interested. He called her 'Mamma' and 'Mummy dear' to catch her napping, but she wouldn't answer. By and by a caller came in, and Elsmere walked up to her and pointed at his mother and said: 'This isn't my mother. She is just Mrs. Swinburne, but I love her!' And Mrs. Swinburne picked him up and kissed him and cried, and I don't believe she ever tried again to make him mind."

"I'm glad Perdita and Peter are such a biddable sort," said Polly. "I don't know what we'd do with two little imps around. They are quite good, almost always. Perdita is mischievous, but Peter keeps her straight. He seems to feel the whole burden of her. If she starts to do anything naughty, he says: 'Perdita, you mustn't,' and Perdita doesn't."

"It's lucky Perdita hasn't Elsmere for a brother," suggested Dot.

"There'd be no living in Winsted if she had, for even Peter can't keep a wicked look out of her eye at times."

"Room for a tired man in your party, children?" Dr. Harlow joined the group. Max vacated the long chair he was occupying, and every one welcomed the doctor with a word or smile. They all loved him, and nothing pleased them better than to have him spend an hour with them.

To-day, he was plainly tired, and while Catherine prepared tea for him, Frieda whispered to Hannah.

"I wonder if he would," said Hannah. "Winifred, will you sing, if I bring out my fiddle?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Frieda was telling a story and the others were listening attentively."--_Page 184._]

Winifred never refused to sing, and Hannah slipped into the house, tuned her dear Geige and brought it out. Then she played very softly, while Winifred's sweet voice sang one quiet song after another. Dr. Harlow's tired face relaxed and, leaning back in the chair, he presently dropped off to sleep. The young people were very still, and Winifred smiled softly as she sang. Dr. Helen, coming out from the office after an interview with a wearying patient, stood in her turn watching. The blues and pinks and greens of the girls' frocks, the boys' white flannels and the great tree spreading above them, made a pretty background and setting for the central group of Hannah bending her brown head earnestly over her violin, and Winifred lifting her delicate little face while she sang.

"Bravo!" shouted a big voice behind Dr. Helen. Bert, on his way home from one of his spasmodic "jobs," dropped in to say "h.e.l.lo!" and incidentally break the spell. Dr. Harlow woke and looked guiltily about him. His wife joined him, and Max and Archie shook the kinks out of their long legs, as the girls began to gather up their sewing and flutter about Catherine with good-bys.

"I say, Miss Hannah," said Bert, making his way to her. "I didn't know you played. That's a jolly little fiddle you've got there. Do you know the Merry Widow waltzes?"

Hannah laughed. "I don't," she confessed, "but perhaps I could learn them. Bring them up some time and I'll try."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SUNDAY SCHOOL

"Hannah, are you awake?"

Hannah turned over, and opened an eye uncertainly.

"No, I guess so."

"Well, do wake up and look at me. Isn't it awful?"

Hannah unscrewed the other eye, and blinked blindly for a minute.