"Dear old Grandma Parlin! Little did she imagine she was filling her
great grand-daughter's head with mischievous notions!"
They walked on a short way in silence. "But you must remember,
Katharine, that was seventy years ago. Grandma Parlin wouldn't advise a
girl of fourteen to do in these days as she did then. Schools are very
different now."
"Yes, indeed, mamma, very, very different. Isn't it too bad? I'd like to
'board 'round' the way grandma did, and rap on the window with a ferule,
and 'choose sides' and all that! But there's one thing I could do!"
exclaimed the little girl, brightening. "I could make the children 'toe
the mark'; wouldn't that be fun? I mean stand in a line on a crack in
the floor. How grandma would laugh! I'll write her all about it, and
send her a photograph, bare feet and all."
In her eagerness Kyzie spoke as if the matter were all arranged and she
could almost see the children "toeing the mark."
"Not so fast, my daughter. Remember there are three points to be settled
before we can discuss the matter seriously. First, would your papa
consent? Second, would your mamma consent? Third, do the people of
Castle Cliff want a summer school anyway?"
"Three points? I see, oh, yes," said Kyzie, meekly.
"But now, Katharine, let us walk a little faster and join the others.
And not a word more of this to-day."
"What did keep you two so long?" asked Edith, coming to meet them with a
bright face. If her happy thoughts had not been dwelling on the zebra
cat just presented her by the "knitting-woman," she would have observed
at once that mamma and Kyzie had been "talking secrets"; though she
might not have suspected that this had anything to do with the vacation
school.
"Do hurry along," she added. "I want to show you the funniest sight! I
don't believe you've seen Barbara Hale, have you?"
Edith could hardly speak for laughing; and her mother and Kyzie did not
wonder when they beheld the figure that little Bab had made of herself,
by a new style of dressing her hair. The two little girls were, as I
have told you, as different as possible, but had an intense desire to
look "just alike"; and when they tried their best the result was very
funny.
I will mention here that Lucy "despised" her own hair for not being
straight like Bab's, and had often tried to braid it down her back; but
as the braid always came out and the ribbon came off, the attempt had
been forbidden.
Now, however, as the children had left their city home and come to a
place where everybody was "on holiday," the mammas decided that they
might have a little more liberty.
Their dresses were off the same piece,--good, strong brown ones; their
hats were alike; and, as for their hair, they were allowed to wear it as
they pleased "just for this summer."
"We'll look exactly alike up there in the mountains," the little souls
had said to each other; and this was perhaps one reason why they had
been so overjoyed at the prospect of going.
[Illustration]
But to-day, ah! who would have dreamed that sweet little Bab could
become such a fright? She had done up her hair the night before on as
many as twenty curl-papers. Before starting for the air-castle she had
taken out some of the papers and found--not ringlets, but wisps of
very unruly hair. It would not curl any more than water will run up
hill.
She went to Aunt Lucy in her trouble to seek advice. Aunt Lucy looked
her over with great care and then announced:--
"It is perfectly awful! Don't take out any more papers, Bab. Let 'em be,
so you can have something to stick the curls on to."
And so it was done. The "curls," as Lucy was pleased to call them, were
drawn up and looped and twisted and fastened by hair-pins to the other
curls left in the papers. The effect was most surprising. It made Bab's
head so much higher than usual that she was as tall now as auntie, and
that in itself was a great gain. Besides, this style, as Lucy said, was
the "pompy-doo," and very fashionable!
If Bab could have kept her hat on! But she couldn't, and the moment it
came off they all cried out:--
"Why-ee, Barbara!" and turned away to laugh.
If Mrs. McQuilken had been there she would have said the child looked
"as if she was possessed of the fox."
"The little goosies! Let them enjoy it!" whispered Mrs. Hale to Mrs.
Dunlee. "But those topknots will have to come down before the child can
go to the dinner-table."
And then both the ladies laughed privately behind a large tree. The
mountain air was doing them good, and they often had as merry times
together as the young people.
"Hear the boyoes," cried Edith, meaning Jimmy and Nate, who had now
reached the air-castle and were shouting with all their might. The
children ran, and so indeed did the older ones, for there was an
excellent path all the way.
"So that is the air-castle," exclaimed Kyzie, when they were all within
sight of it. "It's a real house, built right in the mountain."
She was right. There happened to be a great crack right here in the
rocky side of the mountain, and a cunning little house had been tucked
into the crack. It was built of small stones. It had two real windows
with glass panes, and a real door with a brass knocker, which the
children declared was "too cute for anything."
"The house is as strong as a fort," said Uncle James. "Do you observe it
is walled all around with stones?"
"Do you know who built it?" asked Aunt Vi; "and why he built it?"
"A rich Mexican named Bandini. He admired the view from the mountain,
and I don't blame him, do you? He wanted a nice, quiet place where he
could read and write; that was why he came here. He has been here every
summer for years."
"Well," said Mr. Dunlee, "if you call this an air-castle I must say it
is the most solid one I ever heard of! It doesn't look dreamy at all.
Why, an earthquake could hardly shake it."
"The steps that lead up to it are not dreamy either," said Mrs. Dunlee.
"Real granite; and there's a large flag up there floating from the
evergreen tree."
The "boyoes" had already climbed the steps, and Nate called down to Mrs.
Dunlee, "It's the Mexican flag!" But she had known that at a glance. The
colors were red, white, and green, and the device was an eagle on a
prickly pear with a snake in his mouth.
"I wonder if there's anybody at home," said Nate, and would have lifted
the knocker if Jimmy had not said, "Wait for Uncle James."
Jimmy thought as Uncle James was the leader of the expedition he should
be the one to do the knocking, or at any rate to tell them when to
knock. Nate himself had not thought of this. He was not so refined as
Jimmy, either by nature or by training.
Everybody had climbed the steps now. The older people were enjoying the
magnificent view; but Bab and Lucy were looking for the two toads who
had been seen going up to the castle together, the well toad taking the
lame toad's foot in his mouth.
"I wish they were both here," said Uncle James, "for you would like to
see them take that little journey."
"And the Mexican who built this air-castle," said Aunt Vi, "is he here
this summer?"
"No, he died last spring."
"Died?" echoed little Eddo, who had heard that dying means "going up in
the sky." "What made him die, mamma? Didn't he like it down here?"
Then without waiting for a reply he added most tenderly and
unexpectedly, "Isn't it nice that _you're_ not dead, mamma?"
"Why do you think that, my son?" she asked, wondering what he would say.
"Oh, _be_-cause I _am_ so glad about it." And at this sweet little
speech his mother caught him up in her arms and kissed him. How could
she help it?
"Now," said Uncle James, "let us see if we can enter the castle. 'Open
locks whoever knocks.' Try it, boys."
Nate lifted the knocker and pounded with a will. There was no answer or
sign of life.
"Let's see if this will help us," said Uncle James, taking a key from
his vest pocket:--
"For I'm the keeper of the keys,
And I do whatever I please."
The key actually fitted the lock, the door opened at once, and they all
entered the castle.
"Mr. Templeton lent me the key," explained Mr. Sanford. "He said the
castle was as empty as a last year's bird's nest, but I thought we might
like to take a look at it."
"We do, oh, we do," said Lucy. "Isn't it queer? Just two rooms and
nothing in 'em at all! Oh, Bab, let's you and I bring some dishes up
here and keep house! Here's a cupboard right in the wall."
"I guess it's Mother Hubbard's cupboard, it looks bare enough. Just a
table in the room and one old chair," exclaimed Edith.
"I'm glad we came in, though," said Kyzie. "Isn't it beautiful to stand
in the door and look down, down, and see Castle Cliff right at your
feet? And off there a city--Why, what's that noise?"
No one answered. The older people knew the sound: it was that of an
angry rattlesnake out of doors shaking his rattle.