TANTE’S BIRTHDAY PARTY
Tante’s birthday was a beautiful, bright blue day; what the
towns-folk called a “_real_ Harbor day.” You will notice as you go
around the world, that the _real_ day of any place you visit is
always the best kind of day one ever sees there. Perhaps the same
thing is true of people.
There were two rules at the Camp about birthdays. One was that there
should never be any “boughten” presents. The second rule was that the
hero or heroine of the occasion should do exactly as he pleased all
day, and that everyone should fall into his or her plans.
There was a curious collection of gifts at Tante’s place when
she came down to breakfast. By her plate was a bowl of luscious
strawberries--the last of the season, which the Twins had found by
very careful hunting over acres of meadow the day before. They knew
how much their mother loved the wild strawberries, and how lonesome
she was going to be without them for a whole year. “Well, this will
make the year a little shorter, won’t it, Mummy?” said Freddie. “Only
from July till June.”
“Some day we are going to take Mummy all up and down the world,
wherever the strawberries grow,” said Eddie. “Hugh says we could
begin in the winter in the far south and chase them right up to the
Arctic circle, where they might still be juicy in September! Wouldn’t
that be fine?”
“But they would never be so good anywhere as these are, I’m sure,”
said Tante.
Norma had picked a beautiful bunch of flowers for Tante--little
wild orchises and ferns and cotton grass, which she had arranged in
an original jardinière made of a tin can covered with birch bark.
Cicely had strung a beautiful necklace of hemlock cones with the red
beads of the bunchberry set between. Beverly had finished at last
the basket which Sal Seguin had helped her begin. Indeed, Beverly
had seen the old Indian woman twice since that first visit. Once she
had met her by chance on the shore near the bathing beach, and had
brought down the half-finished basket for advice. Once again old
Sal had looked her up in Camp, with a present of dyed red grass. So
Tante’s basket had a beautiful border to finish it.
Nancy had written her mother a birthday poem, and Hugh had whittled
her a weather-vane--a round robin painted red, to go on the flag pole
in front of the Camp. Anne gave her the prettiest pebble she had
found--lovely mottled green with a white circle round it, which made
it a “lucky stone.” Victor had painted her a little sketch.
As for Dick, that ingenious boy had made a wind-harp by stringing the
frame of a wooden box with twisted silk thread. And when Tante put it
under the half-opened window in a strong breeze, it made the most odd
and beautiful sounds, like fairy music written in no human key.
“Nobody ever had such interesting presents!” declared Tante, when
she had looked at them all.
“Mine you cannot see till ze evening,” said Gilda with a sly nod.
Tante knew quite well that Gilda had been making candy all the
previous afternoon; and Gilda knew that she knew. But it was a secret
all the same.
“Now, what do you want to do, Mother?” asked Hugh, following the
second camp rule. “We are your slaves to-day. Choose what you would
like best”
“I would like best to do exactly what I always do!” laughed Tante. “A
little work, and a little play, a little reading, a little walk, and
a little rest. Nothing could be better than that, for me. Every day
is like a birthday, you see, at Round Robin. Only we shall also have
a party this evening.”
Nelly Sackett came over early from the Cove; and then Tante had two
more presents. For Nelly brought a great bowl of lobster salad from
Uncle Eph and Aunt Polly. And she herself had made a wonderful rope
of twine, in twenty intricate knots and twists, for Tante to use as a
watch-chain.
After early supper Nelly retired with Anne to the boat house on the
beach, where they could help one another to dress without being
disturbed, and, as Anne said, where they could fish up more trimmings
when they were needed.
With much giggling they put on their bathing suits and adjusted their
seaweed skirts which they had sewed firmly, each with a long trailing
tail. Anne had fashioned two pretty loose caps of shells, which
looked quaint on their heads, one covering curly red hair, the other
perched on sea-weedy locks. On their bare arms the mermaids wore
strings of coral beads and shells, and each carried in her hand a
great conch shell which Uncle Eph had brought from some queer corner
of the world. They made a very alluring pair of mermaids, just of a
height, as they stole up the path together when the signal horn blew
for the party to begin.
When they peeped through the bushes they saw a strange company
already gathered on the grass in front of Round Robin. In the middle
of a little group about the flag-pole stood a stately figure in red,
white and blue. On her head was a red liberty cap, and in her hand
she carried a horn of plenty. Behind her stood an old and very black
man, with grinning white teeth and bushy hair. He was dressed in
shabby old clothes and wore a broad-brimmed straw hat, and leaned on
a stick.
“Tante must be Columbia,” whispered Nelly Sackett, “isn’t she
lovely!” “But what is Hugh?”
“I think he’s Uncle Remus,” guessed Anne. “This is his ‘dark secret.’
Hugh is always talking about ‘_Brer Rabbit, he lay low!_’ Let’s wait
a moment and see the others come.”
Two little Indians were frisking around the feet of Columbia, chasing
a clown dog in a wonderful ruffled collar. It looked as if Doughboy’s
costume would not last through the party, for it was already badly
tattered. The Twins with their bows and arrows wanted to shoot
everybody. But a Wild West character, in a sombrero and leggings,
with a red handkerchief knotted about his neck and a lasso in his
hand, was trying to restrain them.
“Wow!” yelled Reddy as he dexterously whirled his lasso over Indian
Freddie’s shoulders, bringing that youngster to the ground, much to
his astonishment. “Don’t you be too rough with these strangers! It
will never do to scalp a Fairy!”
For out of the woods was gliding a beautiful creature in green
drapery fringed with oak leaves, and with an oak garland on her long
golden hair. A green veil fell over her shoulders and bare arms,
which she waved like wings. The clown dog fawned at her feet in an
adoring fashion.
“I am the Spirit of the Woods,” said a gentle voice. No one but the
English girl had a voice like that. It did indeed sound like the wind
in the pine trees on a spring night. “The Indians ought to love me,
for I furnish them with bark for their canoes and wood for their bows
and tepee poles. And I sing the little papooses to sleep.”
“Isn’t Cicely sweet?” said Nelly admiringly, and Anne agreed. She
began to regret the Columbine costume she had given up, and glanced
down at her make-shift rig with some misgiving. “If I had worn the
other I should easily be the finest,” she thought. But Nelly Sackett
had no such regret. “We will creep up, like the tide, last of all,”
she whispered, squeezing Anne’s cold fingers.
Now from opposite directions two figures emerged out of the woods.
One was dressed in a simple brown dress, with a white apron, kerchief
and cap, and carried a book in her hand, trying to look demure. The
other was a pretty Italian peasant, with the brightest colors in her
head-dress and embroidered apron. Long scarlet ear-rings--made of
partridge berries--dangled on her shoulders. Norma had no difficulty
in looking her part.
“Well met!” said the little brown maid gravely. Nancy and Norma
were the best actors of the party, and had prepared their speeches
beforehand. “Thus you, the newest emigrant, meet the earliest, on
Columbia’s ground.” Nancy dropped a curtsey to Norma. “I represent my
ancestor Ruth who came over in the _Mayflower_.”
[Illustration: a fairy creature--a gnome--a gypsy queen]
“You are the New England Conscience; but I am the Artistic
Temperament,” smiled Norma. “You weren’t very cordial to me at
first. But you are improving.”
“Even so, I might teach you something still, of patience and courage
and thrift. But I am trying to get rid of my prejudices, anyway. I do
most awfully want to get what is best for my Country. I have always
tried to do that, have I not, Columbia?”
“Yes; but you are apt to set too much store by book-knowledge; and
you’re apt to think that anyone who did not come in the _Mayflower_
like yourself is the ‘scum of the earth!’” retorted Norma.
“The Pilgrims made things ready for the later emigrants,” said Nancy.
“But you do more complaining than we did.”
“Come now!” said Columbia, “I must have no quarreling under my
Flag. The Stars and Stripes give peace and shelter to all kinds of
children. Miss Pilgrim, you must welcome all the later pilgrims who
come, as you did, with a good heart and a high purpose. Some of them
need your gifts. But some of them bring gifts that you needed.”
“That is so,” said Nancy magnanimously. “I’ll try to remember. But
who are these noisy creatures? I think you are entertaining a good
many disorderly persons, Mother Columbia. You must look out!”
“They will have to obey my rules or they cannot stay at my party!”
said Columbia. “But gaiety is not always disorder. It is sulkiness
that is unsafest.”
“‘_Gone with the raggle-taggle gypsies O!_’” Voices singing, the
click of bones and the twang of strings announced the arrival of
two dancing, beribboned ones. Everybody but Doughboy applauded the
two gypsies who now capered into the circle. Doughboy strongly
disapproved of the Romany. Victor Lanfranc and Beverly had conspired
very successfully. The tall Victor had managed to turn his old khaki
uniform into gay apparel with the aid of ribbons and patches. Over
his shoulder he wore Nancy’s red cape. He had borrowed Norma’s plaid
sash and he had tied up his legs with crossed scarlet braid, instead
of puttees. He looked very picturesque with his black mustache and a
broad hat slouched over a red bathing cap.
Beverly had the corn-popper slung over her shoulder to represent a
guitar, rubber bands stretched across it, twanging under her fingers.
In a red table-cloth skirt, with a bath-towel apron and a scarlet
sweater, and crowned with a waste-basket hat wreathed in daisies, she
was a dashing Gipsy queen. There was a lull after their dance. “Let’s
go now,” whispered Anne. “They are about all there now, I think.”
Making a swimming motion with their arms the two mermaids glided into
the moonlight, and were greeted with various cries from the group.
“Hurrah!” “Look at the Mermaids!” “_Bravissima!_” “_Bow wow!_”
Anne and Nelly swam around the group with their long tails trailing
in a very effective fashion, to Doughboy’s great delight. Finally
they dived down into the grass and lay shaking with laughter. For
Doughboy had taken this as a special invitation to play. And their
unrehearsed dive was the only way to stop his attachment to them.
“Welcome, Sea Ladies!” Columbia hailed them. “Old Ocean and his
powers are the best friends of Columbia. She could not do without
you.”
“They are dressed alike, only one is red and one is green,” said
Freddie. “Are they lobsters, Mother?”
“They look just alike; only one is curly and one is weedy,” said
Eddie. “That is so!” one and another of the group agreed in surprise.
“I didn’t notice it before. Or is it just the moonlight?”
“They might be sisters,” said Nancy wonderingly. “Nelly and Anne!”
“Do we look alike?” whispered Nelly Sackett rather wistfully to Anne.
“I don’t know,” said Anne, trying not to look annoyed. “Costumes do
change people a lot.” They sat down in the grass side by side, with
their tails gracefully curled under them out of Doughboy’s reach.
“Everybody present?” asked Columbia. “No, ma’am,” said Uncle Remus.
“One chile missing. Hello! Here it comes!”
A funny little noise like a bumble bee was heard, one could not say
from which direction. It grew louder and louder, and presently into
the circle hopped the strangest little round figure, with brown legs,
brown body, brown arms. It seemed a weird old gnome with a long grey
beard, a hooked red nose and a pointed cap. He was blowing on some
instrument that might be a pipe.
“It’s a Brownie!” shouted Freddie. Eddie cowered closer to his
mother’s skirts. “Is he real?” he asked. “Where did he come from?”
Indeed the Brownie was so real that no one would have recognized
him. He went dancing around the circle, teasing the nearly frantic
Doughboy, then disappeared into the woods. “Oh he’s gone! I wanted
to see him some more!” cried Freddie. On the word the Brownie
reappeared, dancing right up to Freddie and tossing a cone into his
lap. Another cone hit Eddie on the nose. “It’s Gilda!” he cried.
“I know Gilda now!” and off the two little Indians raced in a wild
pursuit of the Brownie. Presently they brought him back a laughing
prisoner.
“We’ll burn him at the stake!” yelled the Indians.
“Cannot burn ze kobold!” cried Gilda with a squeaky voice that was
still funnier with her accent.
“How did you do it, Gilda? Where did you get the costume?” cried the
girls surrounding her in admiration. “I never saw anything so perfect
as that nose!”
“Ze Pilgrimette did it!” lisped the Brownie, hopping on one leg and
pointing elfishly at Nancy. “She found ze long beard growing on ze
trees. She made my nose, so crooked and pink, wiz ze purple veins,
out of a strange--what you call?--a leaf.”
“It is a pitcher-plant leaf,” explained Nancy. “I found one day that
it would make the most perfect nose. And I was just crazy to wear
it myself. But of course I had to represent the Pilgrims. And Gilda
makes such a nice little round Brownie, doesn’t she?”
“Columbia couldn’t get along without her fairy-folk too,” said Tante,
smiling at the queer group. “I am glad they came with the other
emigrants. Now let’s have a Virginia reel in the moonlight.”
So, like the Owl and the Pussy Cat--
“_Hand in hand on the edge of the strand,
They danced by the light of the moon_,”
Tante and Uncle Remus leading off. It was a very pretty sight, with
the bright moon making strange long shadows under the trees. But
if any of the Harbor folk had happened to stray in this direction,
without being warned, they would certainly have thought the people of
Camp Round Robin had lost their minds!
After the Virginia reel, Tante led the band in a grand march about
the place, and so back to Round Robin for refreshments. Every party
in Tante’s camp always ended with refreshments. When they entered
the bungalow they were surprised to find that it was not empty. By
the fire sat a figure, tending it and brushing up the ashes. He was
indistinct at first. But gradually they made out it was a man in a
tall hat and swallow-tailed coat.
“Why, it’s Uncle Sam!” cried several voices. “Good for Uncle Sam!”
“It’s Uncle Eph!” announced Nelly Sackett in the same breath. The
tall figure rose gravely and bowed to Columbia. Captain Sackett’s
face was indeed like the pictures of Uncle Sam, with his little
chin-whisker, lank grey hair and long, humorous face.
“Good evenin’, friends,” said he. “I come to bring the lady her
birthday cake. Aunt Polly made it as a s’prise.”
“Oh, thank you. Uncle Sam!” Tante took the beautiful frosted cake,
with her initials “R. B.” marked in the first red raspberries. “How
nice of you to come over!”
“I jest had to see those costumes!” chuckled Uncle Sam. “You
certainly did look fine out there in the moonlight!”
While they ate salad and cake and Gilda’s delicious Belgian fudge,
and while they drank Tante’s health in steaming cocoa, Uncle Eph told
them about his costume. “This old hat has been up in my attic for a
hundred years, I reckon. Belonged to my grandfather. He was a deacon
and a soldier too, and this coat sorter combined the idea of both, I
guess.” He was watching Nelly and Anne as they passed in front of him
together. “My! don’t they look alike!” he muttered. “I never would
have believed it! Coming home with me, Nelly?” he asked as he rose to
go.
“No, I’m going to stay with Anne,” said Nelly happily. And he left
her there, looking almost as happy himself.