THE RUNAWAY
June slipped quietly into July and with the long, hot sunny days
came the inclination to slight regular tasks as Winnie had
predicted. Sarah tried to beg off from making the beds morning after
morning and Shirley began to grumble when called from her play to go
to the store. Aunt Trudy declared that the heat always affected her
and demanded an electric fan in her room and drove Winnie frantic
with repeated requests for ice-water. Rosemary alone remained
faithful to her duties, feeling the responsibility of an oldest
daughter. She answered the many calls on the telephone, kept the
messages straight and even wrote out the cards for the office file.
Doctor Hugh declared he did not know what he should do without her.
When Sarah left her work undone, it was Rosemary who finished it for
her, Rosemary who listened sympathetically to Aunt Trudy's
complaints about the weather, Rosemary who coaxed Shirley into
clean frocks and amiability each afternoon and tried to soothe
Winnie when Sarah's side-yard menagerie insisted on invading the
house.
"Rosemary, this is the second time Shirley has stayed away from
lunch," declared Aunt Trudy one noon. "Don't you think I should
speak to your brother about it?"
"Oh, no, Aunt Trudy, not right away," protested Rosemary, her
troubled eyes wandering to the little sister's vacant place. "I
don't believe she really means to run away. I'll get her to promise
not to go out of the yard and she will be all right. Shirley never
broke her promise yet."
"Sarah ought to play with her more, instead of fussing with those
silly rabbits," said Aunt Trudy severely.
"I do play with her," retorted Sarah irritably. "I play with her
lots. But she likes Rosemary. I can't help it if she gets mad at me
and goes to play with those Bailey children, can I? Rosemary is
always practising."
This was not quite fair on Sarah's part, for Rosemary though devoted
to her music and already an advanced pupil, seldom practised more
than an hour in the morning and another in the afternoon. The fact
was that six year old Shirley was developing the running-away habit
at an alarming rate.
She came home late that afternoon, tired and cross, and to
Rosemary's questions returned the briefest answers. Yes, she had
been playing with the Bailey children. No, not in their yard. No,
they had not gone with her when she went further on. She had gone by
herself. Yes, she had had some lunch, a pound of sweet crackers.
"Where did you get them?" asked Rosemary, who was brushing the sunny
hair.
"At the grocery," admitted Shirley.
"But you didn't have any money, dear, did you?" said Rosemary in
surprise.
"I charged 'em--Mr. Holmes said it would be all right," announced
Shirley complacently.
"Shirley Willis! And you know Mother positively never allows us to
charge a thing unless she orders it," cried Rosemary. "What do you
suppose Hugh would say? Did you eat a whole pound?"
No, Shirley confessed, she had had crackers to give away. She had
given some to a strange dog and some to a little boy and girl she
met.
"What little boy and girl?" demanded Rosemary, beginning to feel
that this youngest sister was too much for her. "Where did you
meet them?"
"At the dump lot," said Shirley sweetly.
Rosemary stared at her. The "dump lot" was on the other side of the
town and furnished an annual topic of discussion for the Eastshore
Woman's Club. To it the town refuse and garbage was carted and it
was regularly hauled over and searched by bands of men, women and
children intent on salvage.
"What shall I do with you?" groaned poor Rosemary. "After this,
you'll have to stay in the yard, Shirley. You know Hugh would scold
if he heard you were playing in the dump lot. Promise Sister you
won't go away from the house to-morrow morning."
Shirley, looking more than ever like an adorable cherub in freshly
ironed pink chambray, shook her head naughtily.
"I might want to go," she argued.
"But you mustn't!" Rosemary's voice was earnest. "You can't run all
over town like this, darling. You'll be run over by an automobile,
or something dreadful will happen to you. Promise to stay in your
own yard like a good girl."
Shirley would not promise. The worried Rosemary went to Winnie.
"I don't want to tell Hugh," she explained, "he's busy and when he's
home Shirley is so cunning and funny I don't believe he thinks she
can be naughty. Besides Mother told me to look after the
children--what can I do, Winnie?" and Rosemary, a child herself
waited Winnie's reply anxiously.
"Running away is something most children go through," pronounced
Winnie. "You never had the trick, Rosemary, but Hugh did and so did
Sarah. Your father spanked Hugh and cured him and your mother and I
together cured Sarah. We tied her to a tree with a rope and she was
so ashamed to have the other children see her that she promised not
to leave the yard without permission."
"But Shirley won't promise," said Rosemary. "She keeps saying she
might want to go. Aunt Trudy thinks we should tell Hugh about her."
"Well I think myself he might be able to break her of the trick,"
admitted Winnie. "Shirley thinks a heap of him and yet she's a
little afraid of him too. But I'm like you, Rosemary--I hate to
bother him just now. He's worried about that hospital case and last
night he was called out twice."
"Could we tie Shirley to a tree?" asked Rosemary hopefully.
"She's too big for that," Winnie advised her. "Sarah was only three
years old when that was tried. Shirley would untie the knots or cut
the rope or get someone to unloose her. No, we'll have to keep a
good watch on her and trust to making her see she's doing wrong. You
can reason with Shirley, if she is only six years old."
"Oh dear," sighed Rosemary, quite worn out with her experiences, "I
never knew it was so hard to bring up children!"
"Biggest job in the world," Winnie said shortly. "Mothers never rest
and their work is never done."
The next morning Rosemary coaxed Sarah to play paper dolls with
Shirley on the porch while she practised and she went to her music
with a clear conscience. For an hour the scales and trills sounded
and wound up with a grand march for good measure. Stepping out on
the porch Rosemary found it deserted, the paper dolls scattered on
the rug, the box overturned where the children had left it.
"Shirley!" cried Rosemary. "Sarah!"
"I'm cleaning the rabbit house," shouted Sarah, and Rosemary hurried
around to the side yard.
"Where's Shirley?" she demanded anxiously.
"Shirley? Isn't she on the porch?" Sarah's dirt-streaked face peered
through the wire netting which surrounded her pets.
"No, she isn't, and I'm afraid she has run away again," said
Rosemary, troubled. "How long ago did you leave her, Sarah?"
"Oh, about half an hour," replied Sarah carelessly. "She wanted to
cut out more dolls and I got her the scissors and asked her if she
minded if I came and cleaned the pens. Elinor gets sick so easily I
don't like to let the house go without cleaning it every other day."
"Bother Elinor!" said Rosemary impatiently. "Come help me look for
Shirley. Hugh is coming home for lunch--he telephoned and Winnie
answered it."
They hunted through the house, but no Shirley could be found.
Rosemary even went to two or three of the nearest neighbors, but the
small girl was not there.
"Shirley? I saw her going down the street with her express wagon,"
volunteered Ray Anderson, a four year old boy who lived a few doors
away. "She was on the other side of the street."
"If I knew where to go look for her, I would," said the worried
Rosemary, "but there are twenty streets she could be on. I'll run
over to the dump lot, Sarah; perhaps she has gone there again."
"You'll have to run all the way, if you get back by half-past
twelve," observed Sarah dispassionately. "Aunt Trudy said she was
going to tell Hugh the next time any of us were late to meals."
And though Rosemary ran most of the way to the dump lot on the other
side of town--where a single hasty glance satisfied her that Shirley
was not among the groups engaged in pulling over the unsavory
messes--and all the way back, the others were seated at the luncheon
table when she reached the house. She heard a distinct rumble of
thunder as she entered the door.
"Mercy, child, how hot you look!" was Aunt Trudy's greeting. "I
don't see why you girls don't try to come to your meals on time; I
take so much pains to have the things you like and Winnie is such a
good cook. And yet the three of you haven't been punctual for a
week."
"I'm afraid I set them a bad example," smiled Doctor Hugh. "Let's
form a compact--when Aunt Trudy tells me that not one of you has
been late for a week to any meal, I'll have the clock fixed."
The dining-room clock was an old joke in the Willis family. It was a
cuckoo clock and had been broken for more than a year, but remained
one of those things that are never attended to. Several times a week
the little mother had mentioned that the dining-room clock really
must be mended, but it was always forgotten. Since Hugh had been
home he had often declared that the clock must be fixed but it still
remained mute and useless.
"Shirley loves to hear the cuckoo call," said Rosemary, and
instantly regretted her remark.
"Where is Shirley?" was the doctor's natural question.
"I dare say she's run away again," announced Aunt Trudy, her tone
resigned.
"Run away?" repeated Doctor Hugh sharply. "Why, what do you mean?"
"Well, Hugh I'm sorry to tell you, but Shirley has run away several
times lately," said Aunt Trudy. "She has been absent from lunch
twice this week. I've talked to her and I know Rosemary has, but
nothing seems to do any good."
A vivid flash of lightning, followed by a roar of thunder and a
sudden torrent of rain heralded the arrival of the thunder shower.
"Do you mean to tell me that that baby has been allowed to run
around this town alone?" demanded the doctor sternly. "What have you
been thinking of? What have you all been doing?"
"Well she is very self-willed," offered Aunt Trudy, "and I have no
strength left this hot weather. I said yesterday that you ought to
know about it."
"Why didn't you tell him, then?" suggested Sarah impertinently.
"That will do," said her brother. "Rosemary, how long has Shirley
been gone?"
"About an hour now," admitted Rosemary reluctantly. "I've been over
to the dump lot, Hugh, and she isn't there."
"The dump lot!" ejaculated the doctor. "Is that where Shirley is in
the habit of going? Suppose you tell me about this and how long it
has been going on."
The shrill ring of the telephone bell interrupted Rosemary's
recital. Doctor Hugh answered it. He came back to the dining-room
frowning, yet oddly enough looking relieved.
"Shirley is in the Moreland police station," he announced. "She was
picked up during the height of the storm with her express wagon.
I'll go over in the car and bring her home. Want to come, Rosemary?"
Rosemary did, and the sun was shining out again as they took their
places in the roadster.
"Don't look so sober, dear," said Doctor Hugh, glancing at the grave
face close to his shoulder. "I'm not blaming you, except that I wish
you had told me at once. This experience will probably quite cure
Shirley from running off. Heigh-o, I wonder what you girls will
think of to do next?"
Moreland was the town adjoining Eastshore, and ten minutes' ride
brought them to the door of the police station. Rosemary clung
tightly to her brother's arm as they went up the steps.
"There is nothing to be afraid of," he assured her.
Then someone folded back one of the heavy oak doors and they found
themselves in a large, bare room.