THE BEACH PARTY
Margy declaring that she was not dressed and Jess flatly refusing to
go, Polly had to answer the ring at the door.
"Hello," said Carrie, smiling. "We thought we'd come over for a little
while. Isn't it a lovely evening?"
Polly thought it was and asked them to sit down on the porch, "while I
tell Jess and Margy you're here."
She also told her mother and the others. To her surprise, they seemed
to take the situation calmly.
"Why, dear, we have plenty of everything to eat," Mrs. Marley declared.
"I think it will be nice to have Carrie and Mattie stay. Run out on the
porch and talk with them until I get the rest of this bacon sliced."
"But they didn't ask us to their parties!" objected Jess, who was
listening.
"What difference does that make?" Mrs. Larue said briskly. "Beach
parties are anything but formal. Of course we must ask Carrie and
Mattie to stay and share our fun."
Polly and Jess went out on the porch and talked to Carrie and Mattie
till Margy came down in her pongee dress, her hair parted on one side.
She usually parted it in the center.
"Here comes somebody," Carrie observed, a few minutes later. "Why,
she's coming here. Do you know her?"
"That's Ella Mooney," said Polly quietly, going down the steps to meet
the little girl who was advancing shyly.
She introduced Ella to the two girls she had not met and then every
one came out on the porch and in the general hubbub of greetings and
getting started for the beach, Ella quite forgot to be tongue-tied, and
chatted as gayly as any of the others.
The boys' amazement when they saw Carrie and Mattie was so open that
Polly wanted to laugh. Fred frankly scowled and his mother thought it
best to keep him very busy with boxes and parcels, lest he forget his
position as host and say something discourteous.
"A beach party!" trilled Carrie, when Mrs. Williamson explained
what was planned. "Oh, I didn't know you were going to have a party
to-night! Mattie and I would not have dreamed of coming over."
Artie was halfway down the steps with a box of stuffed eggs in his
hands, but he heard this remark and turned in astonishment.
"Why, I told you we were going to have a party," he said clearly. "In
the post-office this afternoon. Don't you remember? I said Ella Mooney
was coming. That was why I had the marshmallows."
Carrie blushed and Mattie looked queer, but neither girl made any
reply. In desperation Polly began to talk very fast about nothing at
all, and in a few minutes the party had climbed over the dunes and were
on the beach.
The fire was the most important thing to be attended to, and when the
wood was piled, Mr. Williamson handed a match to Ella Mooney.
"We'll ask the honor guest to light the fire," he said, with a smile.
Ella was such a quiet child that one had to look at her intently to
realize the charm of her seriousness. She had bright eyes that missed
nothing of what went on around her, and though thinner than Jess, she
was more muscular. It was easy to see that she lived an outdoor life
and that she was much alone. She rarely spoke unless first spoken to,
and then she replied readily enough and with a charming smile that
lighted up her sober face.
"But she has a good time, just listening," said Polly to herself, after
watching her guest a few minutes. "She likes to hear the fun and she
laughs at all the jokes."
"Tell about the club," suggested Ella Mooney, forgetting to be shy.
"Your father said you had a Riddle Club, and I'd love to hear about
what you do. I never belonged to any club, because I don't know many
boys or girls."
"Don't you go to school?" Mattie Helms asked curiously.
"No, I have a governess who comes and teaches me," answered Ella.
"Daddy doesn't like to have me go away to school, and the Sunrise
school isn't very good."
So Polly, with the active help of the other members, tried to tell her
something about the Riddle Club, and what they did and something of the
experiences they had had.
"What nice times you have together!" said Ella wistfully.
"We have more fun in our Conundrum Club," Carrie declared. "We meet
around at different houses, and it's more exciting. Besides, there are
fourteen of us--seven boys and seven girls--and we can have better
times with a crowd."
"I think clubs and pins and meetings are all nice," replied Ella
quietly.
By this time the fire presented a glowing bed of embers and was
pronounced "just right" for toasting the bacon and cheese sandwiches.
Fred passed around the pointed sticks, and as fast as one toasted his
or her sandwich, it was eaten.
"Gee, that's good!" sighed Ward, in blissful satisfaction, after he had
disposed of three sandwiches and as many more of the stuffed eggs.
The moon was making a silver path across the water, and the older folk
decided that a walk on the beach would please them more than sitting
still and toasting marshmallows. So, after promising to return within
an hour, they set off up the beach and left the fire to the Riddle Club
and their guests.
"I've eaten so many marshmallows I don't want to taste another one,"
said Carrie Pepper, putting down her stick, after a busy interval in
which the luscious brown and dripping marshmallows had been enjoyed to
the uttermost. "Let's do something for fun."
It was, perhaps, not Carrie's place to propose a change in the program,
but Carrie had never been called backward or shy. She said what came
into her head and said it so plainly that few people were left in
doubt as to her opinions and wishes.
"Ella hasn't finished yet," said Polly significantly.
Ella Mooney was intently roasting a marshmallow, her whole mind
absorbed in getting it just the right shade of brown. There was no
doubt about Ella having a good time--her face was transfigured with
happiness, and though she did not talk much, she laughed more and more
spontaneously.
"That child is lonely," Mrs. Marley had remarked, as the elders left
the children gathered around the fire. "It will do her good to play a
little with our boys and girls; she needs companions of her own age."
"I'm through now," Ella said hastily, popping her candy into her mouth.
"I didn't know I was eating so many."
"You didn't--not half as many as the boys," Jess assured her. "And
there's a pound left in that box we haven't touched."
Ella, however, could not be persuaded to eat any more, so they put more
driftwood on to burn and leaned back to watch the fire.
"I tell you what would be fun to do," said Carrie, helping herself to a
marshmallow from the freshly opened box and apparently forgetting what
she had just said. "Let's each write a message on a strip of paper and
put them in that tin box. Then throw it in the ocean and perhaps it
will be picked up fifty years from now."
"By the Chinese, who can't read it," Fred suggested.
"Then they can have the messages translated," retorted Carrie.
Artie's mind approved thoroughly of this idea, and he was eager to try
it. He was quite sure that a waiting world would be eager to hear from
them fifty years hence.
"Well, here's a pencil," said Fred grudgingly. "But I haven't any
paper."
"Tear up the labels on the candy boxes," Jess suggested. "We can write
on the back."
"And don't let any one know what you are going to write," said Mattie
Helms. "Then it will be a surprise."
Jess whispered that she didn't see who was going to be surprised, but
Margy was busily writing and told her to hush.
After some thought and a little bickering, due to the impatience of one
or two of the writers who didn't like to have to wait for the pencil,
the nine slips of paper were ready to be put in the box. The lid fitted
tightly and, once in place, seemed quite likely to stay there for
fifty years, if the box was not found before that time.
It was low tide, and Fred had to go out several yards before he thought
it safe to fling the box. He threw it as far as he could and it fell
with a satisfying splash.
"I wish I knew who was going to find it," sighed Carrie. "Wouldn't you
like to know?"
"I don't think it makes much difference," Polly declared, and Fred said
that he hoped an Eskimo found the box and ate the papers.
"Say," Artie remarked matter-of-factly, "there's somebody sitting at
our fire."
Artie spoke as though it was the most ordinary thing in the world, but
Carrie was at once excited.
"I left my sweater!" she cried. "If that's a tramp, he'll steal it."
Ella said nothing, but Polly remembered the little beaded bag she had
seen.
"You left your purse, didn't you, Ella?" she asked.
"Oh, yes, but there's only ten dollars in it," Ella said calmly, though
the others gasped at thought of this sum.
"Probably it's only some one who wants to get warm," Jess declared.
"Come on--he'll go when he sees us coming."
But the tramp, if tramp he was, did not move at their approach. He
merely stared, and the children stared back at him.
They saw an old man, stoop-shouldered and dressed in wrinkled, baggy
clothes that were vaguely reminiscent of sailor's clothing. He wore a
funny little peaked cap and he had a curly white beard.
"Evening," he said, as they did not speak.
"How--how do you do?" Polly stammered.
"I saw the fire and I thought I'd sit down and warm my old bones,"
croaked the tramp, in a hoarse voice. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Well, if you're warm, I should think you could go now," Carrie said,
before any one else could speak.
She snatched her sweater from the ground, almost from under the old
man's elbow.
"Oh, Carrie, how can you talk like that?" whispered Polly.
"Well, you never can tell what a tramp will take," Carrie said, taking
no pains to keep her voice low.
"I wouldn't take anything, lady," the old man protested, with dignity.
"I'll bet he's hungry," Jess whispered to Polly. "Are there any
sandwiches left?"
There were three or four, and a little shyly Polly offered them to the
tramp who thanked her and ate them with evident appetite. Then Jess
toasted him several marshmallows, and though he said he wasn't "any
great hand for sweet things," he ate them without further protest.
Fred put more wood on the fire, and as he leaned over to prod it into a
better blaze, he saw Ella Mooney slip her hand into the gaping pocket
of the shabby jacket the old man wore.
"I'll bet she gave him some money," ran Fred's swift thought. "She's
that kind of a girl--while all Carrie can think of is that she may lose
her silly sweater."
Ella's eye caught Fred's, and she blushed violently. He shook his head
to signify that he would not tell, and she seemed relieved. Meanwhile,
Mattie Helms had been asking questions: Where had he come from? Where
was he going? Was he a sailor?
"We just sent some messages off in a tin box," she chattered. "Do you
suppose maybe sailors on a ship will pick them up, or people on shore?"
"Maybe a ship will sight your box," the old man said slowly. "It's hard
to say. Then again, it may never be found--it may float for years and
not be picked up."
"I don't see why he doesn't go," Carrie muttered disagreeably to Polly.
"I don't think your mother would like us to be talking to an old
tramp."
"Why, Carrie, maybe he isn't a tramp! How do you know he doesn't live
near here?" expostulated Polly. "And if he is a tramp, what harm is
there in letting him sit by our fire? I wish you wouldn't talk so
loud--he might hear you."
"Captain Mooney is awfully particular," said Carrie, apparently on
another track. "Everybody says he won't let Ella talk to hardly
anybody. He won't like it if he finds you had a tramp come to your
party."
"Maybe you think I'd better go, young lady?" the old man asked, getting
to his feet slowly and painfully. "I'm not welcome here?"
Shy, quiet little Ella Mooney surprised them all by bursting into
speech.
"Don't go," she urged earnestly. "We want you to stay."
"I think I'd better go," the old man muttered, and tugged at his beard
with both hands.
Carrie shrieked and clutched at Fred.
"Look!" she gasped.