Produced by Charlene Taylor, Betsie Bush, Matthew Wheaton
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
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Dandelion Cottage
CARROLL WATSON RANKIN
_Illustrated by Mary Stevens_
JOHN M. LONGYEAR RESEARCH LIBRARY
Marquette, Michigan
1977
_First published in 1904_
THE MARQUETTE COUNTY HISTORICAL SOCIETY
213 North Front Street
Marquette, Michigan 49855
FOURTH EDITION
First Printing, February 1977
Printed in the USA by
THE BOOK CONCERN, INC.
Hancock, Michigan
_To_
RHODA, FRANCES, AND ELEANOR
_whose lively interest made the writing
of this little book a joyful task._
THE PERSONS OF THE STORY
BETTIE TUCKER:}
JEANIE MAPES:} _The Dandelion Cottagers_
MABEL BENNETT:}
MARJORY VALE:}
THE TUCKER FAMILY: _Mostly boys_
THE MAPES FAMILY: _Two parents, two boys_
DR. AND MRS. BENNETT: _Merely Parents_
AUNTY JANE: _A Parental Substitute_
MRS. CRANE: _The Pleasantest Neighbor_
MR. BLACK: _The Senior Warden_
MR. DOWNING: _The Junior Warden_
MISS BLOSSOM: _The Lodger_
MR. BLOSSOM: _The Organ Tuner_
GRANDMA PIKE: _Another Neighbor_
MR. AND MRS. MILLIGAN:}
LAURA MILLIGAN:}
THE MILLIGAN BOY AND} _The Unpleasantest Neighbors_
THE MILLIGAN BABY:}
THE MILLIGAN DOG:}
Contents
1. _Mr. Black's Terms_
2. _Paying the Rent_
3. _The Tenants Take Possession_
4. _Furnishing the Cottage_
5. _Poverty in the Cottage_
6. _A Lodger to the Rescue_
7. _The Girls Disclose a Plan_
8. _An Unexpected Crop of Dandelions_
9. _Changes and Plans_
10. _The Milligans_
11. _An Embarrassing Visitor_
12. _A Lively Afternoon_
13. _The Junior Warden_
14. _An Unexpected Letter_
15. _An Obdurate Landlord_
16. _Mabel Plans a Surprise_
17. _Several Surprises Take Effect_
18. _A Hurried Retreat_
19. _The Response to Mabel's Telegram_
20. _The Odd Behavior of the Grown-ups_
21. _The Dinner_
Dandelion Cottage
CHAPTER 1
Mr. Black's Terms
The little square cottage was unoccupied. It had stood for many years on
the parish property, having indeed been built long before the parish
bought the land for church purposes. It was easy to see how Dandelion
Cottage came by its name at first, for growing all about it were great,
fluffy, golden dandelions; but afterwards there was another good reason
why the name was appropriate, as you will discover shortly.
The cottage stood almost directly behind the big stone church in
Lakeville, a thriving Northern Michigan town, and did not show very
plainly from the street because it was so small by contrast with
everything else near it. This was fortunate, because, after the Tuckers
had moved into the big new rectory, the smaller house looked decidedly
forlorn and deserted.
"We'll leave it just where it stands," the church wardens had said, many
years previously. "It's precisely the right size for Doctor and Mrs.
Gunn, for they would rather have a small house than a large one. When
they leave us and we are selecting another clergyman, we'll try to get
one with a small family."
This plan worked beautifully for a number of years. It succeeded so
well, in fact, that the vestry finally forgot to be cautious, and when
at last it secured the services of Dr. Tucker, the church had grown so
used to clergymen with small families that the vestrymen engaged the new
minister without remembering to ask if his family would fit Dandelion
Cottage.
But when Dr. Tucker and Mrs. Tucker and eight little Tuckers, some on
foot and some in baby carriages, arrived, the vestrymen regretted this
oversight. They could see at a glance that the tiny cottage could never
hold them all.
"We'll just have to build a rectory on the other lot," said Mr. Black,
the senior warden. "That's all there is about it. The cottage is all out
of repair, anyway. It wasn't well built in the first place, and the last
three clergymen have complained bitterly of the inconvenience of having
to hold up umbrellas in the different rooms every time it rained. Their
wives objected to the wall paper and to being obliged to keep the
potatoes in the bedroom closet. It's really time we had a new rectory."
"It certainly is," returned the junior warden, "and we'll all have to
take turns entertaining all the little Tuckers that there isn't room for
in the cottage while the new house is getting built."
Seven of the eight little Tuckers were boys. If it hadn't been for
Bettie they would _all_ have been boys, but Bettie saved the day. She
was a slender twelve-year-old little Bettie, with big brown eyes, a mop
of short brown curls, and such odd clothes. Busy Mrs. Tucker was so in
the habit of making boys' garments that she could not help giving a
boyish cut even to Bettie's dresses. There were always sailor collars to
the waists, and the skirts were invariably kilted. Besides this, the
little girl wore boys' shoes.
"You see," explained Bettie, who was a cheerful little body, "Tommy has
to take them next, and of course it wouldn't pay to buy shoes for just
one girl."
The little Tuckers were not the only children in the neighborhood.
Bettie found a bosom friend in Dr. Bennett's Mabel, who lived next door
to the rectory, another in Jeanie Mapes, who lived across the street,
and still another in Marjory Vale, whose home was next door to Dandelion
Cottage.
Jean, as her little friends best liked to call her, was a sweet-faced,
gentle-voiced girl of fourteen. Mothers of other small girls were always
glad to see their own more scatterbrained daughters tucked under Jean's
loving wing, for thoroughly-nice Jean, without being in the least
priggish, was considered a safe and desirable companion. It doesn't
_always_ follow that children like the persons it is considered best for
them to like, but in Jean's case both parents and daughters agreed that
Jean was not only safe but delightful--the charming daughter of a
charming mother.
Marjory, a year younger and nearly a head shorter than Jean, often
seemed older. Outwardly, she was a sedate small person, slight,
blue-eyed, graceful, and very fair. Her manners at times were very
pleasing, her self-possession almost remarkable; this was the result of
careful training by a conscientious, but at that time sadly
unappreciated, maiden aunt who was Marjory's sole guardian. There were
moments, however, when Marjory, who was less sedate than she appeared,
forgot to be polite. At such times, her ways were apt to be less
pleasing than those of either Bettie or Jean, because her wit was
nimbler, her tongue sharper, and her heart a trifle less tender. Her
mother had died when Marjory was only a few weeks old, her father had
lived only two years longer, and the rather solitary little girl had
missed much of the warm family affection that had fallen to the lot of
her three more fortunate friends. Those who knew her well found much in
her to like, but among her schoolmates there were girls who said that
Marjory was "stuck-up," affected, and "too smart."
Mabel, the fourth in this little quartet of friends, was eleven, large
for her age and young for her years, always an unfortunate combination
of circumstances. She was intensely human and therefore liable to err,
and, it may be said, she very seldom missed an opportunity. In school
she read with a tremendous amount of expression but mispronounced half
the words; when questions were asked, she waved her hand triumphantly
aloft and gave anything but the right answer; she had a surprising stock
of energy, but most of it was misdirected. Warm-hearted, generous,
heedless, hot-tempered, and always blundering, she was something of a
trial at home and abroad; yet no one could help loving her, for
everybody realized that she would grow up some day into a really fine
woman, and that all that was needed in the meantime was considerable
patience. Rearing Mabel was not unlike the task of bringing up a St.
Bernard puppy. Mrs. Bennett was decidedly glad to note the growing
friendship among the four girls, for she hoped that Mabel would in time
grow dignified and sweet like Jean, thoughtful and tender like Bettie,
graceful and prettily mannered like Marjory. But this happy result had
yet to be achieved.
The little one-story cottage, too much out of repair to be rented, stood
empty and neglected. To most persons it was an unattractive spot if not
actually an eyesore. The steps sagged in a dispirited way, some of the
windows were broken, and the fence, in sympathy perhaps with the house,
had shed its pickets and leaned inward with a discouraged, hopeless air.
But Bettie looked at the little cottage longingly--she could gaze right
down upon it from the back bedroom window--a great many times a day. It
didn't seem a bit too big for a playhouse. Indeed, it seemed a great
pity that such a delightful little building should go unoccupied when
Bettie and her homeless dolls were simply suffering for just such a
shelter.
"Wouldn't it be nice," said Bettie, one day in the early spring, "if we
four girls could have Dandelion Cottage for our very own?"
"Wouldn't it be sweet," mimicked Marjory, "if we could have the moon and
about twenty stars to play jacks with?"
"The cottage isn't _quite_ so far away," said Jean. "It _would_ be just
lovely to have it, for we never have a place to play in comfortably."
"We're generally disturbing grown-ups, I notice," said Marjory,
comically imitating her Aunty Jane's severest manner. "A little less
noise, if you please. Is it really necessary to laugh so much and so
often?"
"Even Mother gets tired of us sometimes," confided Jean. "There are days
when no one seems to want all of us at once."
"I know it," said Bettie, pathetically, "but it's worse for me than it
is for the rest of you. You have your rooms and nobody to meddle with
your things. I no sooner get my dolls nicely settled in one corner than
I have to move them into another, because the babies poke their eyes
out. It's dreadful, too, to have to live with so many boys. I fixed up
the cunningest playhouse under the clothes-reel last week, but the very
minute it was finished Rob came home with a horrid porcupine and I had
to move out in a hurry."
"Perhaps," suggested Marjory, "we could rent the cottage."
"Who'd pay the rent?" demanded Mabel. "My allowance is five cents a week
and I have to pay a fine of one cent every time I'm late to meals."
"How much do you have left?" asked Jeanie, laughing.
"Not a cent. I was seven cents in debt at the end of last week."
"I get two cents a hundred for digging dandelions," said Marjory, "but
it takes just forever to dig them, and ugh! I just hate it."
"I never have any money at all," sighed Bettie. "You see there are so
many of us."
"Let's go peek in at the windows," suggested Mabel, springing up from
the grass. "That much won't cost us anything at any rate."
Away scampered the four girls, taking a short cut through Bettie's back
yard.
The cottage had been vacant for more than a year and had not improved in
appearance. Rampant vines clambered over the windows and nowhere else in
town were there such luxurious weeds as grew in the cottage yard.
Nowhere else were there such mammoth dandelions or such prickly burrs.
The girls waded fearlessly through them, parted the vines, and, pressing
their noses against the glass, peered into the cottage parlor.
"What a nice, square little room!" said Marjory.
"I don't think the paper is very pretty," said Mabel.
"We could cover most of the spots with pictures," suggested practical
Marjory.
"It looks to me sort of spidery," said Mabel, who was always somewhat
pessimistic. "Probably there's rats, too."
"I know how to stop up rat holes," said Bettie, who had not lived with
seven brothers without acquiring a number of useful accomplishments.
"I'm not afraid of spiders--that is, not so _very_ much."
"What are you doing here?" demanded a gruff voice so suddenly that
everybody jumped.
The startled girls wheeled about. There stood Bettie's most devoted
friend, the senior warden.
"Oh!" cried Bettie, "it's only Mr. Black."
"Were you looking for something?" asked Mr. Black.
"Yes," said Bettie. "We're looking for a house. We'd like to rent this
one, only we haven't a scrap of money."
"And what in the name of common sense would you do with it?"
"We want it for our dolls," said Bettie, turning a pair of big pleading
brown eyes upon Mr. Black. "You see, we haven't any place to play.
Marjory's Aunty Jane won't let her cut papers in the house, so she can't
have any paper dolls, and I can't play any place because I have so many
brothers. They tomahawk all my dolls when they play Indian, shoot them
with beans when they play soldiers, and drown them all when they play
shipwreck. Don't you think we might be allowed to use the cottage if
we'd promise to be very careful and not do any damage?"
"We'd clean it up," offered Marjory, as an inducement.
"We'd mend the rat holes," offered Jean, looking hopefully at Bettie.
"Would you dig the weeds?" demanded Mr. Black.
There was a deep silence. The girls looked at the sea of dandelions and
then at one another.
"Yes," said Marjory, finally breaking the silence. "We'd even dig the
weeds."
"Yes," echoed the others. "We'd even dig the weeds--and there's just
millions of 'em."
"Good!" said Mr. Black. "Now, we'll all sit down on the steps and I'll
tell you what we'll do. It happens that the Village Improvement Society
has just notified the vestry that the weeds on this lot must be removed
before they go to seed--the neighbors have complained about them. It
would cost the parish several dollars to hire a man to do the work, and
we're short of funds just now. Now, if you four girls will pull up every
weed in this place before the end of next week you shall have the use of
the cottage for all the rest of the summer in return for your services.
How does that strike you?"
"Oh!" cried Bettie, throwing her arms about Mr. Black's neck. "Do let
me hug you. Oh, I'm glad--glad!"
"There, there!" cried stout Mr. Black, shaking Bettie off and dropping
her where the dandelions grew thickest. "I didn't say I was to be
strangled as part of the bargain. You'd better save your muscle for the
dandelions. Remember, you've got to pay your rent in advance. I shan't
hand over the key until the last weed is dug."
"We'll begin this minute!" cried enthusiastic Mabel. "I'm going straight
home for a knife."