THE SOLUTION OF MANY MYSTERIES
Once inside the magic portal of the great estate, however, Mrs.
McGregor's task became increasingly difficult. What a bewildering scene
it was! The green lawns, terraced down to the lake, were dotted with
tents and from each one floated out tantalizing hints of the delights
within. The strains of a band and the laughter of dancers drifted
forth from one; waiters with heavily laden trays passed in and out of
another; around still a third swarmed children and one glimpsed through
the open doorway a marionette show. Under a gay red umbrella at the
edge of the garden women, fluttering like multi-hued butterflies,
ladled lemonade from giant punch-bowls.
Oh, a wonderland of myriad delights beckoned in every direction and it
was only by dint of extreme severity that Mrs. McGregor succeeded in
keeping her little army in formation and preventing its neatly ranged
ranks from becoming lost in the surrounding hubbub.
"You're not to stir a step from this spot until I tell you you may,"
commanded she. "The very notion of your all racing off to enjoy
yourselves before you have so much as said a word of thanks to Mr.
Coulter who asked you here! Where are your manners? Are you forgetting
so quick that it is his wedding day? Aren't you going to wish him joy
as is proper to do when he has taken all this trouble to give you a
good time?"
Her tone was withering in its rebuke and as if hypnotized by its
cadence the wriggling children thronging in her wake stood motionless.
"In my day folks were grateful for what was done for them and expected
to say _thank you_ to their elders. Now there seems to be no such thing
as politeness among youngsters. But to-day, whether you will or no,
before you do anything else we are going to hunt up Mr. John and his
bride and every one of you is to thank him for asking you to his party.
And Tim, you and Mary and Carl are to repeat the speech I taught you. I
pray you've not forgotten it already. You hope he and his wife will
have many days as happy as this one. Remember and don't get mixed up
and say the wrong thing."
With this final caution Mrs. McGregor wheeled about and marshalled the
miniature procession following her into a vast, rose-garlanded tent at
the right of the entrance. Two aisles roped off with laurel divided it,
and throngs of people were moving down one of these and returning by
the other. In the far distance one could see a canopy of green, a
figure misty in white tulle, and a bevy of bridesmaids in pink, blue,
yellow, and lavender.
"This seems to be the right place," whispered Mrs. McGregor. "We'll
fall right in behind this man and woman. Now mind your manners, all of
you. Poor though we are, we can be polite without it costing us a cent.
Timmie, you keep close at my heels with Mary. I've got all I can do to
handle the baby and Nell. Carl, see that you don't squeeze Martin's
hand too tight and get him peevish. Take hold of him gently. And don't
one of you dare to push. We must expect to move along slowly and wait
our turn. Yes, I know it's hot. But there'll be lemonade and ice cream
by and by. I guess you can stand the heat for a little while. What is
it, Tim? Your boots hurt? Nonsense! They're the same boots you always
wear, aren't they? Were you racing round playing ball in them it's
little notice you'd be taking of them, I reckon. Don't be silly and get
sulky now or next time I shall leave you at home."
To an accompaniment of these and similar admonitions the McGregor host
proceeded on its way along with the other guests.
Then at last when the receiving party was well in sight and Mrs.
McGregor and her family were making a decorous approach the anxious
mother was horrified to see Carl, forgetful of all else, rush from the
line and racing up to Mr. John Coulter, seize both his hands.
"Oh!" cried the boy, in a voice so shrill with ecstasy that its accents
penetrated to every corner of the great tent, "Oh, Mr. Coulter, I never
dreamed it was you! Why didn't you tell me who you were? I'm so glad to
see you again! I thought I never would. I've hunted and hunted for you
and your red car ever since."
[Illustration: "I've hunted for you and your red car ever since."
_Page_ 253.]
Plainly Mr. John Coulter, instead of being offended by this unexpected
onslaught, was delighted for he beamed down on the excited lad, shook
both his hands heartily, and laughed so the ring of it echoed all
about.
"So you didn't guess the riddle, little chap," Mrs. McGregor heard him
say. "Well, I didn't mean you should."
"And to think it was you!" Carl was still murmuring, as if in a trance.
"Just to think it was you! Of course you were the one who got Louise
her new place."
"Guilty."
"Gee, but it was white of you! She's right here behind my mother." Then
inspired by sudden understanding he added, "And the Christmas dinners
came from you, too."
"Come, come, youngster, this is no moment to be confronting me with all
my crimes," the blushing bridegroom protested. "Here's Mrs. Coulter
just married to me--what is she going to think if you tell her how many
conspiracies I have been mixed up in? This, Marion, is one of my very
good friends, Carl McGregor. His father was for many years in our mills
and if I mistake not here is his whole family coming up to speak to
us."
"Indeed we are, sir," declared Mrs. McGregor, making a quaint English
curtsy, "and it's scandalized enough I am to see my boy here racing at
you as if he was a wild beast and forgetting all the etiquette I've
taught him. He had a nice speech ready to say but where it is now
heaven only knows!"
"I'd far rather he said to me what he did," asserted Mr. Coulter. "You
see, Carl and I are old friends."
"I don't see," replied the mystified mother, "but no doubt you are,
since you tell me so. I myself had no idea the lad know you from Adam."
"And I hadn't either, Mother. Gee, but it is rich! To think I went
riding with you that day, Mr. Coulter, and speeled off all that guff,
and you never so much as raised an eyelash!"
"Carl!" ejaculated his despairing parent.
"Well, I hope this is not to be the end of our acquaintance,
youngster," Mr. Coulter returned, passing over Mrs. McGregor's rebuke.
"Come and see Mrs. Coulter and me some day. And remember that if you
ever wish to enter the mills I will make a place for you."
"That's bully of you, sir!"
"Carl!" Mrs. McGregor was dumb with consternation. "The very idea of
your speaking to Mr. Coulter like that!" declared she, when at last she
could catch her breath. "Come away before you say anything more to
disgrace the family. There's others waiting to give him their good
wishes and you seem to have forgotten all about yours, although
goodness knows you were drilled and drilled on the speech you were to
make. Yes, Mrs. Coulter, these are my children--all six of them. The
baby's name? James Frederick, after his uncle. And this is Mary, and
Timmie, and Martin, and Nell. The oldest ones had nice things ready to
say to you but Carl has knocked 'em clean out of their heads. I hope
you'll not lay it up against us. No, marm, this tall boy and girl don't
belong to me, but I'm that fond of 'em I wish they did. They are our
neighbors, Hal and Louise Harling."
Instantly Mr. Coulter reached forward and greeted the young people.
"The new job is going well?" he asked, addressing Louise.
"Oh, I'm so happy in it, Mr. Coulter."
"That's good! And you, Harling?"
"I'm getting on splendidly, sir."
"Excellent! There'll be a raise coming to you next month--quite a
substantial one. We've been looking you up."
"Oh, sir, how can I----"
"There, there! We mustn't stop to talk about it now. If you must thank
somebody for it thank this young scoundrel here. It was he put me up to
it."
There was time for nothing further. Swept onward by crowds that surged
behind, the McGregors, like chips on the crest of a mammoth wave, were
borne forward and out of the tent.
In the open air Mrs. McGregor wiped her perspiring brow.
"Now," began she, turning accusingly on her son, "perhaps you will be
so good as to tell us what all this is about. How came you to know Mr.
John Coulter well enough to be treating him like a long-lost brother?
And what had you to do with Hal and Louise and the Coulter mills? I
feel as if I were going crazy! One minute you don't even know Mr.
Coulter by sight and the next he is sending us a Christmas dinner and
you are fairly falling on his neck."
Carl shook with laughter.
"Oh, Mother, it's all so rich--so perfectly corking!" he cried. "You
couldn't half appreciate it if I told you."
"I could try," came curtly from Mrs. McGregor.
But her son did not heed her.
"To think of that being Mr. John Coulter," chuckled he. "And, oh, the
things I said to him! I tremble to recall them. I told him Corcoran was
a low-down skunk, I know that. And I gushed on a lot about Hal and
Louise. I only wish I could remember what I did say. Jove! He must have
split his sides laughing."
"When? When did you do all this?" interrogated the lad's mother
impatiently.
"Oh, when was it?" ruminated Carl, struggling to collect his scattered
wits. "It seems ages and ages ago that all that happened. It was before
Christmas, I'm certain of that."
"And you went riding with Mr. Coulter? I heard you saying something
about it."
"Yes."
"You actually went to ride with him?"
"I sure did!"
"Well, all I can say is I should like to know when all these miracles
took place," repeated Carl's mother. "Where was I, and why wasn't I
told? You might at least have mentioned it at home."
"I know it, Ma," apologized Carl with disarming frankness. "I did try
twice to tell you but the chance never seemed to come right; and by and
by it got to be so long ago that I forgot all about it."
"Forgot you went motoring with Mr. John Coulter?" Mrs. McGregor spoke
with incredulity.
"You see I didn't know at the time that it was Mr. John Coulter, Ma."
"I don't see! I don't understand anything about it," repeated the woman
helplessly.
"Well, you will by and by. It is a long story--too long to tell now.
When we get home you shall hear it from beginning to end. But now----
Gee whizz! There goes Martin making for the pond! I'll head him off."
Away went Carl across the velvet lawn and with an unsatisfied air Mrs.
McGregor wheeled about to collect Nell and Tim, who were already
tugging at her skirts. She felt as if the events of the past half-hour
were a dream. Carl, her harum-scarum son, the catastrophe worker of the
family, was the acknowledged friend of Mr. John Coulter, one of the
richest and most revered citizens of Baileyville. And more than that he
appeared to possess the influence to have men removed from their jobs
and discharged employees reinstated in lost positions. He even had
power to have people's salaries raised. Would wonders never cease?