French that nobody else understood. It seemed that that was really the
bear Sue and Solita had run away from and he wasn’t a wild bear but a
tame one that would dance with a pole while the men sang French songs.
They had stopped to get a drink of water at a farm and the bear had got
off someway, when their backs were turned. They were delighted to know
where he was and Solita and Sue, reassured, offered to show the way.
So again they started toward the funny, old-fashioned house in a crowd
together.
They came upon the bear, still eating blackberries on the doorstone--he
hadn’t budged! And when the Frenchmen called him, he came meekly. Then
all the children stood around in the dooryard while the bear that
Solita and Sue had escaped from danced and danced. He turned somersets,
too! It was fun.
And then the men took off their caps and turned and went down the
overgrown driveway and off up the road. The children were already busy
with the blackberries. “I might go down cellar now, Solita,” laughed
Sue, “but I don’t believe I want to. Maybe there’d be another bear
there. I’ve had enough of one, even a tame one, haven’t you?”
Solita laughed. “Our blackberries are all eaten,” she said. “We’d have
to begin to pick again to fill the basket and the pail. I move we all
go home, for I think it’s nearly lunch time.”
But everybody wanted to go into the house and slide down the roof,
while little Albert made believe he was the bear and said “Grrr-r” on
the doorstone. It really _was_ a blackberry adventure for a summer
day!
_Betty Crusoe_
_THE SEPTEMBER SURPRISE_
_September was almost school time again. There seemed to be a long,
hard thing in the September pocket that was not the story pocket.
Marjorie said it felt as if it were a stick of candy. She had wanted to
open the surprise long before September 13th, the date set, had come.
But at last it was September 13th and she tore open the seals that
held that leaf of the Surprise Book’s pocket tight. There was--why, a
pencil! Why hadn’t she ever guessed that! It was a pencil painted pink
and it had a rubber at its end. It had a pretty card tied to it that
said, “Use this when you go to school tomorrow.” The story Marjorie
opened that evening after supper. It was called “Betty Crusoe.”_
_XI_
_Betty Crusoe_
All summer Betty had been in the city. Then, the last day of September
came an eventful invitation from a school-friend of her mother’s.
“Dear Betty,” it ran, “I know your mother can’t be persuaded to leave
daddy and the boys, but can’t _you_ pack up and spend the rest of the
vacation with me in my big house here at Riverby? I’m all alone for
October.” So, in two days, there was Betty in Riverby!
Mrs. Roberts and she took long motor rides, but the rest of the
time--and much of the time--Betty had to amuse herself. She was always
longing for a boat ride on the lovely blue river that was within sight
of the house, but Mrs. Roberts never seemed inclined to go out rowing.
It was one day when she was lonely and wishing for somebody her own
age to play with that she wandered through the grounds down toward
the shore. Some magic must have been at work, for right there upon
the sandy beach sat a pink gingham dress much like Betty’s own! It
turned as Betty’s white shoes crunched the coarse gravel. “Hello,” she
greeted. “I was just wishing I had a girl to talk to and then _you_
came!”
Betty laughed. “I was just wishing, myself,” she smiled. “I’m staying
with Mrs. Roberts. Do you live next door?”
The pink hair-ribbon bobbed. “I’m staying with my aunt,” it said. “I
just came from the West. I don’t know a soul my own age here and it’s
stupid. Now that you’ve come, let’s have some fun together. My name’s
Lydia. What’s yours?”
It seemed to the two of them that they had known each other always
and, naturally, having so begun, it appeared that the two of them were
longing to go out upon the river for a row--and had been longing for
that ever since they came to Riverby.
“Don’t I wish we could find a boat!”
“Do you know where there is one?”
“No--and I’ve only rowed on the lake in the park--”
“Well, never mind. You could row out a little way, if we could find a
boat! Let’s!”
“We wouldn’t go out very far--”
“No, not very far. I think we can find a boat if we walk along the
shore--”
So the two trotted along the sandy rim of the river and, after a while,
they did come upon a boat drawn high up. There were oars in it and it
appeared to be waiting for the two, just as Lydia had been waiting
for Betty a half hour before. They didn’t stop to think. They merely
accepted the boat as they had accepted each other. It was part of the
adventure, of course. With frantic tugging, they finally launched the
boat and Betty took the oars.
As she dipped them, “I’ve got to be back by four,” she said. “Mrs.
Roberts asked me to go calling--pity me, Lydia, I’ll have to come back
and put on my best dress. I’d rather stay on the river--I hope you’ve a
watch with you. I didn’t bring mine.”
“No, I haven’t any watch but I can tell time by the sun,” reassured
Lydia. “Do you know, Betty, I’m longing to know what’s just around the
bend of the river. We can go that far, can’t we?”
“Sure,” replied Betty, bravely. She did not say that her arms were
already rather tired. She waited for Lydia to offer to take the oars.
But when they reached the bend, right there in the very center of the
river was a big wooded island. Its shore was overhung with dark pine
trees. It was a most fascinating island!
“Oh, row over to the island, Betty,” screamed Lydia. “I do so want to
go there! We can stop for a bit and then come back and you’ll be home
in time to dress for that call.” So Betty, tired but very willing to
prolong the fun, rowed on.
They beached the boat near a rock, but while they were beaching it, out
fell an oar! Before anybody could get it, it had floated far out beyond
reach! Oh dear! Oh dear! Could anything ever be worse! Oh dear, dear,
dear!
They sat upon the beach there under the pines and wondered what was
going to happen. What indeed? The island seemed nothing but woods, and
the boats that passed by were too far away to hear what Betty and Lydia
screamed at them. They evidently took the wild antics of the two pink
dresses on the island beach as just so much joyous kind of greeting,
nothing more. Neither Lydia or Betty could swim. So there was every
reason to believe they would stay upon that island forever.
“My aunt didn’t know I was going off anywhere,” wailed Lydia. “She’d
never think of my being _here_!”
“And Mrs. Roberts is expecting me to be dressed for calling at four!”
“I don’t know what we’re going to do!”
“Neither do I!”
It seemed so utterly hopeless that the two put their arms around each
other and cried hard on each other’s pink gingham shoulders. Yet, as
crying did not mend matters, Betty decided to make a petticoat flag and
wade as far out as possible to hail the next boat. There was a rocky
point that might be a good station. So she and Lydia paddled out there,
leaving shoes and stockings on the shore.
The sun was gradually sinking toward the West. Lydia insisted that
it must be at least half past four or five. She was sure they would
have to camp out upon the island all night and was tearfully worrying
about bears--“There always _are_ bears in the woods, Betty,” she said.
“I don’t want to stay here all night, oh dear! Don’t you suppose that
a boat ever will come around the bend and see our signal?” But it was
long after that that at last a launch sped by, leaving in its wake a
track of white foam. No use to scream! The launch simply did not hear
or see and there were but two in it, a lady and a man who was at the
rear.
“Mrs. Roberts has a parasol exactly that shade,” wailed Betty. “It
might be her out looking for me only she wouldn’t think I had gone out
on the river. Since I’ve been here, we never have been boating. She’s
probably hunting for me in town or else she’s gone to call without me
by this time. Maybe she thinks I forgot the call and went to walk.
Then, of course, she’d not be worrying or looking for me till supper
time.”
“But I should think they’d have stopped the launch when they heard us
scream, ‘Help!’ They must have heard!”
“No,” disagreed Betty. “Maybe they never noticed or they thought we
were just a silly picnic party playing Robinson Crusoe.”
Alas!
“Well, we’ve got to stay here, Lydia.”
“It’s our punishment, I suppose.”
“Maybe we deserve it for taking a boat that didn’t belong to us.”
They sat on the rock for a long time wondering what more they could do
and then Betty realized that she was fearfully hungry. Lydia, too, at
the same time, longed for a couple of sandwiches. “We might go look to
see if there are berries in the woods,” they agreed.
There were no berries, of course. There was only wintergreen and that
wasn’t satisfying. They found remnants of some picnic’s old boxes--but
that was all. The picnic must have been there weeks ago for its boxes
were mere pulp now--oh dear!
Betty’s pink dress was torn and scratched by brambly twigs that were in
that woods. Lydia’s hair had lost its ribbon and trailed down her back
in a loose tangle. The two of them were begrimed like two tramps when,
finally, Betty discovered a footprint that looked as if it were newly
made. “Friday, Man Friday,” she screamed, “Look! There must be somebody
on this island, if we can only find the one to whom this belongs!
Hooray, maybe we’ll be rescued yet! Let’s follow in the same direction
and see if we do find another picnic party--if they haven’t gone home!”
“Oh, I hope they haven’t--I don’t want to spend the night here with
nothing to eat--Oh dear!”
And then they found a path!
There was another footprint upon the path too!
Betty and Lydia hurried on, their hearts beating excitement. When they
turned suddenly, the woods ceased abruptly and they found themselves in
full view of a summer camp!
With one wild shout, Betty ran forward to its landing. There, there was
a launch and in it the two who had passed on the river and beside them,
too, were other people. The launch was just about to start when Betty
with Lydia at her heels darted upon the dock waving wild arms. “Stop,
stop,” they cried. And then Betty saw who the lady was--why, why, it
was--it was Mrs. Roberts! It _was_!
On the way home, Mrs. Roberts said that she hoped Betty wouldn’t decide
to play Robinson Crusoe again. She looked very sober. “Our call might
have been planned for tomorrow,” she smiled. “The camp would have been
closed then and whatever would you and Lydia have done on the island
all night!”
“I don’t know,” returned Betty. “I’m ever so sorry. Lydia is too.”
_The Magical Circle_
_THE OCTOBER SURPRISE_
_October’s first surprise was easy to guess, as it was marked to open
on Marjorie’s birthday, which was the twenty-second. She said it was a
birthday present--but she did not guess that the birthday present was a
pretty handkerchief as well as a birthday card! That was fun! The story
was a Hallowe’en story, so it was marked to open on the afternoon of
October thirty-first. It was called, “The Magical Circle.”_
_XII_
_The Magical Circle_
The family moved into the new house about the first of October. It was
the first time that Mark and Marjorie had ever moved and the event was
full of novelty. The new house was a big one in the country and the two
found much to explore in the first weeks of arrival.
Mark was always romancing. He believed, maybe, if he were to hunt
long enough, he might find something interesting that had been left
by former tenants. He was sure that there were secret drawers in the
old desk that was in the barn and he spent hours trying to find them.
Then, too, he went about tapping the walls of the house to see if they
emitted a hollow sound. He was sure, he said, that there must be secret
panels with things hidden behind them.
Marjorie only laughed at Mark’s romancing. She half believed in it.
It was fun, anyway. So she followed Mark’s tapping and listened to
the knocks. One day when the paperers were busy, Mark went into a
store-closet that adjoined the room and somehow he did find a place
that was hollow. It was back of a board shelf in the closet and, when
opened, was quite a hiding place. There was nothing in it. Marjorie
insisted that it was where the gas pipes had been before electricity
was installed. But Mark called it triumphantly the secret panel. He
talked a great deal about it and showed it to the neighbor’s children,
Eleanore and Mabel and Richard. He even persuaded Mother to hide
some silver in the place for safe keeping. And she did it, she said,
laughingly, to please him.
One might have thought that Mark would stop romancing, after having
discovered a secret panel, but he didn’t rest satisfied. Having read a
story about two boys who found a lost will in a trunk in an old attic,
Mark became interested in the possibilities of their newly acquired
one. There were three rooms up there, two of them used to store the
family’s trunks. The third room Mark appropriated and made into what
he called his “den.”
The “den” had an old matting upon its floor. The matting had been there
when Mark and Marjorie moved into the new home. Mark always accepted it
and had never found any romantic suggestions coming from that source
till one night, Richard having been allowed to spend a night with him,
they carried a mattress up there and slept on the floor, “for fun,”
they said. Mark had a lantern and they talked till nearly two o’clock
telling stories to each other. It was really great fun. Mark’s stories
were full of adventure--some of them even were creepy, as it was
nearing Hallowe’en day by day. And what was more fitting than right in
the middle of Mark’s last thriller, there should be a strange rattle
and a clinking noise! It made Mark hush and it made Richard jump. They
looked at each other in frightened silence for a minute.
“What was it?” asked Mark, as soon as he could breathe again calmly.
“Oh, a mouse, I guess,” returned Richard.
“A mouse, forsooth! Nay!” returned Mark, talking in a romantic way.
“Me-thinks it is a strange noise, friend. It cometh from under this
matting. I will take up the matting and if need be the floor and we
shall see--” Here he pulled up an end of old matting.
Richard was willing to have another of Mark’s adventures, so he
helped. It wasn’t hard to get it up--but when it was once up the most
astonishing thing came to light. Even Richard was amazed. As for Mark,
he was in his element of discovery. There upon the floor was a big
round circle. The floor was painted but the circle was not!
“What is it?” inquired Richard.
Mark debated. “I don’t know,” he mused. “It’s evidently something!”
He measured the circle. It was about three feet in diameter. He was
for tearing up the flooring at once, only Richard reminded him that it
would make a dreadful noise and wake everybody in the house up. Surely
a fortune and a lost will must be under it! Richard silenced Mark’s
objection to waiting till daylight and after school by saying that they
would never be allowed to sleep in the attic on a mattress again,
if the two of them got into trouble. That was true. So they sat up,
wrapped in blankets, listening for the sound that seemed to have gone
away and also for other sounds that did not come. And they wondered
excitedly how a circle like that should come to be upon an attic floor,
if not purposely put there to mark something. Richard suggested that
it might be an old astrologer’s room and that the circle was one upon
which he might have cast horoscopes. That sounded rather fascinating
but neither Mark nor Richard knew anything about astrologers or even
what they did when they cast horoscopes. So this was rather romantic
and they talked a great deal about it, once in a while switching off to
goblins and Hallowe’en. Mark and Richard discussed, among other topics,
what they should do to make Hallowe’en truly exciting. They were going
to dress up like witches and go to call upon some friends. Richard was
planning to carry his black cat in a bag and they were going to wear
masks. Probably Marjorie would beg to go too--girls always did want
to go too--and they’d let her into the secret about the circle on the
attic floor too, wouldn’t they?
Richard assented. He and Marjorie were good friends.
“I tell you what!” exclaimed Mark, suddenly. “After we’re dressed up,
we’ll all come up here early in the evening. Maybe Mother and Daddy’ll
have gone to the pictures. Then we’ll take up the floor and see what’s
under the circle!” It seemed a thing quite fit for the night of
Hallowe’en.
Having decided this, they again unrolled the mattress, hid themselves
in blankets and snored peacefully till dawn.
In the morning, Mark put the matting over the very precious circle and
the two went downstairs hinting at wonderful secrets of things they had
found and strange noises they had heard. Marjorie said it seemed to her
that she had heard a queer noise too--up overhead. She said it sounded
like Mark tapping for secret panels. Then everybody laughed because of
the memory of how Mark was shut up tight in the harness-closet once
upon a time, a victim of his love of mystery and adventure. Then
Richard said he thought Mark had heard a mouse.
“Mouse! Does a mouse rattle?” inquired Mark. “I guess you’ll find
out!” And the subject strung itself out all through the day and on
till Hallowe’en time came. Of course, in between, Mark had visited the
attic and everybody had seen the circle. Everybody declared that it was
a mystery. Nobody had ever seen anything like it upon an attic floor.
Mother laughed. She was used to Mark’s imaginings. She said she didn’t
connect it with a little harmless mouse gnawing at a hole.
At the mention of a mouse gnawing, Mark became almost dramatic. “It was
no mouse!” he declared. “Don’t I know what a mouse sounds like!”
Hallowe’en came, but even the fun of dressing up like witches lost
the usual flavor. Mark, Marjorie and Richard were worked up to a
pitch of excitement over the circle on the attic floor. They talked
of nothing else. Mark had read up on astrology in the encyclopedia.
He hadn’t understood it all but he talked as if he did and Marjorie
was wonderingly proud of his knowledge, while Richard was willing to
listen, though he corrected Mark’s statements now and then, having read
up on the subject at the library himself.
It was lucky that the picture theatre claimed Mother and Daddy that
night. And the strange thing was that neither Mark nor Marjorie had
begged to be taken too. They had come in at eight o’clock sharp,
according to directions that Mother had insisted upon. They kept on
their weird garments of sheets and shawls. Mark, lantern in hand, led
the way to the dark attic room and the others followed.
Then there began to be a real noise in that room as Mark hammered a
chisel into the flooring. It seemed to be a very thick board flooring
and it took time to get some nails out. But they yielded finally, and
the end of one floor-board that crossed the circle at its centre grew
loose enough to be pried up. (Mark had insisted that he choose the
centre of the circle. Nobody knew why, though they trusted him. He said
that the centre was the middle of a thing and that whatever was there
would be exactly under it. This sounded plausible.)
Then Mark had Richard take the chisel and wedge up the board a bit.
It wouldn’t give very much, you know. He said Marjorie might hold the
lantern and he’d peep into the darkness underneath and see what was
there. Really, the moment _was_ very exciting. Nobody knew what Mark
might see--they felt that he was brave to take the first look, for it
might be ’most anything down there where Mark’s noise had come from!
They were silent while Mark, lying flat down on the attic floor, peered
under the lifted end of the board. “I see gold pieces,” he gasped.
“Say, give me more light--it must be buried treasure! _Didn’t I say I’d
find it!_”
Marjorie and Richard looked at each other. _Was it true?_ “Let _us_
see,” they urged. Richard did peek. He said he couldn’t see very
clearly but that there was something there that he thought looked like
money. It was round and there was something that looked like a bag
there--maybe a money bag! Marjorie was so excited that she couldn’t
keep still long enough to see anything at all well. But she thought she
saw something that looked like a piece of paper. Nobody else had seen
that, so they all peeped again. “It is a lost will,” declared Mark.
And they believed him.
Then they fell to opening the flooring in a most reckless way. It
really was dreadful--but when one is expecting to get at a money bag
and a lost will, one does not stop to consider the flooring. The board
was whacked beyond recognition. The hammer and chisel fell to work and
the flooring yielded to the onslaught. Then--Mark lifted the board!
Ah!--Ah-ha!--
Richard held the lantern down so that it shone full upon the treasure;
Marjorie gasped; Mark bent forward to see all there was to see. There
was a pile of broken glass and some rags, corks--and buttons! Oh, yes,
and there was a piece or so of white paper--not very large. The buttons
were of metal, round brass buttons, tarnished and old. The paper was
old white paper, yellow now. It was not a lost will at all! No, the
money bag was just a round wad of cloth and Mark’s noise was--Mark’s
noise was evidently a rat running around the rat’s nest that they had
found! Alas, alas! There was no more mystery! The three had never seen
a rat’s nest before but Richard had heard about them. He said, from
the first, he’d said it was a mouse--but everybody knows that a mouse
is very different from a rat!
After they had all recovered from the shock of their disappointment,
they laughed a little. It really was funny--There they had been
planning what they would do with all the money after it had been
properly divided! Of course, the lost will would have given the money
to the finders, you know.
Mark fingered the buttons, grimy with much dust. “They don’t make
buttons like this any more,” he said. “They are very interesting.
I am glad I found them.” He said that they had not yet come to the
end of the mystery. “_Why_ is there a circle on the attic floor?” he
questioned. “Why?”
Nobody could say. Then they heard Mother’s voice downstairs. “You’ll
have to tell about the floor,” Marjorie suggested. “We can never get it
down again.”
So they did. It was a sorry group that said good-night, even after they
had been forgiven.
Next day when Mark returned from school, he heard the carpenter
repairing the damaged floor up in his den and he rushed up there.
“Say,” he said, “what do you suppose anybody ever made a circle on the
floor like that for unless it was an astrologer?”
The carpenter laughed. “Sonny,” he smiled. “I’ve been in this house
when there was a big cistern right here--Know what a cistern is? It’s
what the family used to depend upon for water in the house. When
they took it down, the floor that was painted all around it showed
the circle where the cistern had stood. That’s all. It wasn’t any
astrologer that made it.”
After that, somehow, the news about the cistern’s having been Mark’s
mysterious circle in dim ages past, leaked out. Richard and Marjorie
and Mabel and Eleanore plagued him forever after--but, anyway, Mark
says, some day when he does find a fortune and a lost will, they’ll
stop laughing at him. Maybe that’s true.
_Ermelinda’s Family_
_THE NOVEMBER SURPRISE_
_November’s first surprise pocket was another strange mystery. Dotty
always chuckled when Marjorie asked her to tell what it was. “I can’t,”
she laughed. “It’s a joke!” So poor Marjorie had to quiet her curiosity
and wait till the very day before Thanksgiving. Then she ripped open
the Surprise Book’s surprise and undid the paper that she found wrapped
around that queer lumpy-bumpy-feeling thing. You couldn’t guess
what Dotty had put in--it was a wish-bone. “Good wishes for a fine
Thanksgiving dinner,” it send. As for the story, that was dated to read
on the evening before Thanksgiving. It was called “Ermelinda’s Family,”
and it was a Thanksgiving story._
_XIII_
_Ermelinda’s Family_
Ermelinda entered High School in September. Then, too, she contributed
to the High School magazine. Going to and from school she hunted for
themes to use in school compositions. She meant to write a story some
day! That was Ermelinda’s ambition.
As she looked over magazines at home, she imagined how her name would
look printed. Once when she was looking over a big fashion paper,
she turned to a department page and found that there was a chance
to correspond with an editor lady. So she at once wrote and between
the two there grew up a friendly intercourse upon paper. Ermelinda
confided her desire to write stories, and though none were awarded
prizes in the department, yet Ermelinda regarded the editor lady as a
friend. And once she told her how the school had solicited Liberty Bond
subscriptions.