TO THE RESCUE
And then an unlooked-for actor appeared upon the scene; a boyish
figure, supple and well built, sprang, as if miraculously, out of a
dense clump of bushes, just beyond the terror-stricken girls.
With a ringing shout he darted straight in front of the infuriated
brute, and flung his coat defiantly in its eyes. Angry and snorting,
it tossed the coat aside and started after its tormentor.
The trembling girls, thus suddenly and unexpectedly rescued from their
peril, found new anxiety for the safety of their brave deliverer.
With bated breath they watched him as, having succeeded in diverting
the attention of the enemy, he half circled the field with the maddened
creature in hot pursuit, so close at times that he felt its hot breath
on his neck.
Always heading in one direction, toward the open gate of the pasture
field, the boy led the race, and finally breathless and almost
exhausted, he gained the goal.
Through the gate he ran and gave, as he cleared it, a sudden jump to
one side, while the momentum of the bull carried it forward and beyond
him. A moment later he stood in the friendly grass of the berry-patch,
with the gate closed securely between him and the foe.
"It's Mark Griffin!" cried Ivy.
"Yes, I knew him at once," returned Alene.
The three girls clapped their hands joyfully, starting a round of
applause. Soon from every part of the patch came cheers and shouts and
whistling; a small boy, who perhaps was the cause of all the trouble,
scrambled from a tree near the big gate with a whoop that would have
startled an Indian brave. He ran across the field, picked up the coat
from where it lay on the ground almost in ribbons, and returned it to
its owner.
With a humorous glance at the crumpled and grass-stained object Mark
flung it over his shoulder and, followed by the urchin and one or two
other boys, started away from the field and was soon out of sight down
the lane.
"He wouldn't wait a minute," explained Hugh apologetically, when he and
Mat returned to the girls.
Ivy curled her lip.
"There's a great deal in the way things are asked," she said, and Hugh
knew she was offended.
"Who wouldn't run away from a lot of girls ready to slobber over him
with thanks and prayers?" said Mat with a broad grin.
"As if we would make him a courtesy and say, 'Thank you, sir, for
saving my life!'" retorted Ivy.
Hugh busied himself picking up the tins and the upset buckets. He
sympathized with Mark's dislike of a scene.
"Any of you fellows would have done the same if you had the chance,"
the latter had said.
"Did she expect us to bring a fellow by the coat collar to be thanked?
Girls are queer, they always enjoy fussing and the limelight,"
concluded Hugh. He kept resolutely away from them.
"What's the matter with Hugh?" whispered Laura after a time.
"Why?"
"He seems kind o' grumpy."
Ivy picked out a monster berry and put it into her mouth.
"The wind's changing I guess! Boys are like weather-vanes, you never
can tell what way they're going next!"
Laura smiled at the idea of comparing staid, dependable Hugh with
anything so uncertain as a weather-vane.
Ivy kept on filling her tin cup and pretended not to pay any attention
to her brother. She knew her uncalled-for, sarcastic remark had
offended him. Had it been anyone else, she would have made ample
apology, but it was only poor old Hugh--it was not necessary to trouble
herself about him. He would "come round" after while, as he always
did. No matter how far in the wrong Ivy might be, it was always Hugh
who made the first advances toward a reconciliation. Perhaps if he had
waited longer, Ivy might have behaved differently, but Hugh never
waited.
Sure enough, he soon gave signs of the "coming round" process, but
instead of "coming round" to Ivy with a handful of flowers he had
found, he gave them to Alene.
After that it was to Alene he came when he had an especially large
berry to show; he insisted upon her eating it; he compared the state of
his tin cup and hers, and they made a wager as to whose cup would be
filled the first.
His celerity amazed Alene.
"How can you fill yours so quickly?"
"By sticking to a good bush when I find one!"
"You girls lose time by flitting from bush to bush like butterflies,"
added Mat.
"We are more like busy bees, Mat. We gather only the best as we fly!
There's Laura, no boy can beat her picking berries," said Ivy.
"I believe there's a good deal in what Hugh says," remarked Laura, "not
only in berry picking, but in work and study. We accomplish more by
sticking to one thing at a time. They say 'Beware of the man of one
book.'"
"I would indeed be beware of him. He'd be an insufferable bore!"
retorted Ivy, as she moved away to another bush.
"Now we will transmigrate ourselves into robins and do the 'babes in
the wood' act!"
Ivy gazed at the speaker compassionately.
"Has the poor boy gone daffy?"
Mat pointed to the two buckets, by that time filled with berries.
"We will cover them over with leaves!"
"Do you know what Claude does when he's angry or out of humor?"
inquired Ivy.
"Throws himself on the floor and kicks, I guess!"
"No, he runs to a corner and hides his face!"
"Well?"
"If I were you, I'd follow his example!"
"But I'm not angry or out of humor with you, Ivy. On the contrary, I
feel as mild as a lamb, and I'm so razzle-dazzle-dizzled pleased with
getting these buckets filled in spite of you girls, that I
could--could--"
"Please don't, whatever it is you could do, be wise and don't do it!"
"What's the time?" asked Laura.
"Eleven A.M.!"
"Are you sure of the A.M.?"
"I'm surer of it than of the eleven! I made a guess at that!"
"We'd better start home. It will take some time to make the jam and
get Mrs. Kump's basket ready," said Laura.
Mat made a horn of his hands and gave a yell.
"What's that for?"
"To call our party in."
"We don't want everybody in the field; we're all here but Alene and
Hugh."
"Where are they? Haven't seen 'em for some time! Ah, here they come!"
"Hugh took me over to see a thrush's nest," explained Alene. Her face
glowed with animation beneath Nettie's pink lined bonnet; her lips and
fingers were stained with berries and Laura asked herself if this could
be the white-cheeked, forlorn, little Peggy-Alone she had seen standing
beside Prince on the terrace just a couple of months before.
They trooped gaily into the carriage, Mat again took the reins and away
they went on the return trip.
They came into the town by a different route, which led past the
Ramseys' buff cottage.
"There's Vera and her mother and some ladies sitting on the porch,"
remarked Alene.
"And see, there's Hermione at an upstairs window," said Ivy.
The girls waved their hands to that smiling friend and the boys
gallantly doffed their hats as they raced Old Hurricane past the house.
Mrs. Ramsey gazed after the vehicle with a look of amazement. She had
obtained a glimpse of the girls, in their print dresses and sunbonnets,
but had failed to recognize them.
"Who can they be?"
"They evidently know you," said one of the ladies, smilingly. "Didn't
you see that little curly-headed girl swinging her bonnet?"
"Not at us, surely!"
Vera smiled at her mother's shocked tone.
"That was Ivy Bonner; they were waving at Hermione upstairs."
"I thought it looked like Dawson's rig, but surely Alene wasn't--"
"Yes, she was there, with her face all stained with berry juice! I
guess they were out picking blackberries!"
Mrs. Ramsey raised her eyes in despair. "What does Fred Dawson mean by
allowing it? If that poor child's mother only knew!"