THE PICNIC
WHEN a crowd of young people get together there is sure to be a picnic
if there is a spark of life in them. There were many sparks of life in
this crowd, enough to supply many picnics.
We had been at Maxton ten days when the picnic came off, and we had had
ten days of unalloyed fun. Of course, we had many gags on each other and
jokes that were only jokes because we were on a house-party together.
Those jokes if told would sound very flat, indeed. I believe there is no
bore so great as the person who has been off with a crowd for a
fortnight and comes back and tries to bring to life all the silly jokes
that were perpetrated. They may have been brilliant and witty at the
time, but it takes the setting and the circumstance to make them appear
so to someone not blessed with an invitation to said house-party.
Mr. Tucker had come and gone and come again when we decided to go on the
picnic. His faithful Henry Ford could bring him to Price's Landing in
about one-fourth of the time it took if one trusted to the deliberate
meanderings of the steamboat. He was a favorite with all of the party,
young and old, and his arrival was hailed with delight. Miss Maria put
on her best and filmiest lace cap for his benefit, and to her delight,
that wonderful man noticed it and talked to her about old lace with a
knowledge that astounded her.
He told me afterwards he found lace a topic which always interested old
ladies, so he had deliberately made it his business to find out about
lace and be prepared to converse on the subject. He also had some
general knowledge of crochet stitches, and knew how much yarn it took to
knit a sweater. It was too ludicrous to see him solemnly talking fancy
work with some ancient dame. Tweedles and I have been sent off into
hysterics when we have found him bending over a rainbow afghan, with
some old lady eagerly asking his advice as to the depth of the border
or something else equally feminine. He seldom went home, after a
week-end spent at some resort, that he did not have a commission to
match embroidery silk for some lady who had calculated wrong, or send
back a bale of wool for some energetic person who had suddenly decided
to knit socks for the poor Belgians or a sweater for a long-suffering
male relative. Certainly Zebedee's interest and knowledge on the subject
of lace caps would have won Miss Maria's affections had they not already
been his.
General Price was as glad to see him as was his old sister. Of course,
the European war was of paramount interest to everyone during those
years, and Jeffry Tucker always brought some item of news to be
recounted and discussed. He came laden with newspapers and magazines,
and the general would bury himself under them, only emerging for meals.
He and Zebedee would spend hours discussing the situation. Topographical
maps were studied until one would think those two gentlemen could have
found their way blindfolded over every inch of the western front.
The Mexican situation, too, must be thoroughly threshed out. The old
warrior was like some ancient war horse that sniffs the battle from
afar. As a veteran of the Civil War he had many experiences to recount
and analogies to bring forth. Mr. Tucker listened to him with an
attention that was most flattering. Naturally General Price freely
announced that Tucker was the most agreeable man of his acquaintance.
Mr. Arthur Ponsonby Pore spent one evening with us at Maxton and the
general and Zebedee hoped to get some new outlook from their English
acquaintance on the subject of the war that so nearly touched him, since
many of his kinsmen must surely be in the trenches; but Mr. Pore's
interest seemed purely academic, and as his knowledge was principally
gained from two- and three-week-old London _Graphics_, those voracious
gentlemen got but little satisfaction from the hours spent with Arthur
Ponsonby.
"He cares more about what language will finally be spoken on the
Servian border than he does about the submarine menace!" cried Zebedee
indignantly, coming out on the gallery where I was getting a breath of
air after a particularly trying dance with poor Wink, who never had
learned how. We danced almost every night at Maxton,--tread many a
measure, as our dear old host put it. Dee said she thought Wink was a
good dancer and she seemed to be able to keep step with him very well,
but the Gods evidently had ordained that Wink and I could do nothing in
harmony. He either stepped on my toes or I stepped on his,--the latter
arrangement I much preferred.
"Well, when you come right down to it," I said, defending poor Mr. Pore,
"that is, after all, a very important thing. What language is to be
spoken there will mean which side is victorious."
"I know that, little Miss Smarty, but I also know if I have to listen
any longer to that Britisher's rounded periods, what language will be
spoken here,--it will not be fit to print, either. How can a man sit
still down on the banks of a river in a foreign country and feel that it
is not up to him to do a single thing for his country when her very
existence is in peril!"
"But what can he do?"
"Do? Heavens, Page, he can do a million things!"
"He is too old to fight."
"No one is ever too old to fight,--that is, to put up some kind of a
fight. He does not even contribute to a relief fund! He as good as told
me he did not. He says he is afraid that what he sent might fall into
the hands of the Germans and help them, so he considers it more
patriotic not to send anything. I've been taking up for that man against
Tweedles, but ugh! I'm through now."
"Oh no, you are not," I laughed; "if Mr. Pore should come out on the
porch this minute and ask a favor of you, I bet you would be just as
nice to him as you always have been."
"Never! Five pounds of Huyler's if I am not as cold as a fish to His
Nibs!"
At this psychological moment His Nibs appeared.
"Aw, I say, Mr. Tucker, when you return to Richmond, will you be so kind
as to do a little commission for me?"
Zebedee made inarticulate noises in his throat and Mr. Pore continued:
"Some freight has gone astray and if you could look it up from that end,
it would be of great assistance to me."
"Have you written about it?" Zebedee's manner was not quite so
Zebedeeish as I could have wished, since five pounds of Huyler's was at
stake.
"No, I have not corresponded with the wholesale firm from whom I
purchased the goods, as I heard from my daughter that you were expected,
and I considered that it would be much more satisfactory to all
concerned if you could give it your personal attention."
As soon as Mr. Pore mentioned Annie, Zebedee seemed to have a change of
heart. He evidently felt that Annie's father must be cajoled into good
behavior, and nothing must be done or said to make that stubborn parent
have an excuse for taking any pleasures from Annie.
"Certainly, Mr. Pore," he said politely, if a little distantly. "Just
give me your bill of lading and I will look into the matter for you."
In my mind's eye I saw the five pounds of candy. I had certainly won.
But was it fair of me to take advantage of poor Zebedee's tender heart?
Certainly not!
"Shall it be chocolates?" he asked, when Mr. Pore had finished his
transaction and taken himself off.
"It shall be nothing!" I exclaimed. "Don't you know I know why you were
decent to the old fish? It was not just plain politeness that made you
do it, it was your feeling for Annie, poor little thing!"
"How do you know so much?"
"Why, I saw you change your mind the moment he dragged in Annie, and I
knew what you were thinking just as much as though you had said it
aloud: 'Don't do anything to make things hard for Annie.' Now isn't that
so?"
"Page, you are uncanny! Can you read everybody's mind?"
"Of course not! Only yours," I laughed.
"Do you know what I am thinking now?" He looked at me very intently. The
light from the hall was flooding the gallery and I could see way down
into his clear blue eyes.
"N-o!" I hesitated, and I am afraid blushed, too. "But I wish you would
think that it would be nice to go try that new wiggly dance Jessie
Wilcox has just brought from New York."
"I see, if you can't read my mind all the time, you can at least make me
think what you want me to. Come on, honey, and show me the dance."
I got the candy in spite of my protestations of not deserving it.
The picnic was to be at Croxton's Ford, a beautiful spot about three
miles down the river. The naphtha launch held eight quite comfortably
and the rest were to go in rowboats. Mary and Shorty insisted upon
paddling the canoe, although they were warned that it would be a tiring
job, especially coming back.
Miss Maria had planned to go with us although an all day picnic was a
great undertaking for one of her shape, but she was very particular with
girls intrusted to her and chaperoned most religiously. On the very
morning of the picnic, sciatica seized her and she simply could not get
out of bed. The general had business at the court-house and was off very
early in the morning, so his going was out of the question. Miss Maria
lay there groaning and moaning, miserable that her conscience could not
consent to our going on such a jaunt, unchaperoned. As Tweedles and I
had never been overchaperoned, in fact knew very little about such
necessities, it seemed absurd to us.
"Do you really mean we can't go without a chaperone?" wailed Dum, who
had set her heart on a long row in a little red boat that appealed to
her especially.
"My dear, I am so sorry! I would get up if I could."
"But I wouldn't have you get up, dear Miss Maria. I just want you to lie
still and get well. We don't need a chaperone!"
"I know you don't need one, my child, but I have never heard of a picnic
at Croxton's Ford without a chaperone."
"But Zebedee's a grand chaperone," put in Dee. "He is that particular!
Why, Dum and Page and I have never been chaperoned in our lives."
"Zebedee's the strictest thing!" maintained Dum.
"So he may be," smiled the old lady, although one could see that the
twinges in her poor hip were giving her great agony, "but as perfect as
he is, he is not a woman."
"No,--he is certainly not that."
"Jessie Wilcox has never been on a picnic in her life without a
chaperone, and I could not consent to one from Maxton unless it was
perfectly regular."
A tap on the door disclosed the sympathetic Zebedee.
"Please let me come in," he begged.
After a hasty donning of boudoir cap and bed sacque, he was admitted.
"Mr. Tucker, I am so sorry, but I cannot let the girls go on a picnic
without a chaperone," said the old lady.
"Of course not!" and his eyes twinkled. "I'm going, though, and I am a
perfect ogre of a chaperone, eh, Page?"
"Yes, something fierce, but Miss Maria says you are not a woman."
"That's so!" he said, puckering up his brows. We were mortally sure he
was going to find a way. He always did. "How about Aunt Milly? She is
perfectly respectable and would guard the young ladies like gold, I am
sure."
"We-ll, I remember before the war we often went great distances with our
maids. I think she would do. Please send her to me."
Zebedee rushed to do her bidding, but he evidently had an interview with
Aunt Milly before he sent her to Miss Maria, as that old darky entered
the bed chamber in a broad grin, tying something up in the corner of
her bandanna handkerchief as she came.
"Milly, I want you to chaperone for me to-day," said the poor invalid,
groaning as she tried to move a bit in her great mahogany bed.
"Sho', Miss Maria! Does you want me to do it wif goose grease? Or maybe
you'd like dat mixture er coal ile an' pneumonia? Dat's a great mixture.
'Twill bun you up but it sho' do scatter de pain."
"I don't mean massage, I said chaperone," and Miss Maria laughed in
spite of her sciatic nerve.
"Yassum! I 'lowed you meant rub, an' I's mo'n willin' to rub. You'll hab
to 'splain. I ain't quite sho' in my min' what shopper-roonin' is, but
if it'll ease yo' pain, you kin jes' call on ol' Milly."
"It would ease my pain greatly if you would go with the young ladies on
the picnic."
"Cook for 'em?"
"Oh no, Aunt Milly," I interrupted, "we never let the chaperone
cook,--just to look after us and keep us straight."
"Lawsamussy, chile! You all don't need nobody to keep you straight. Th'
ain't nothin' wrong wid you all but jes' you's a little coltish."
"I know they don't need anyone, Milly, but I have never heard of a
picnic at Croxton's Ford without a chaperone, and I wouldn't be willing
for them to go without one."
"All right, Miss Maria! But you ain't thinkin' 'bout sendin' me nowhar
in one er them thar skifty boats, is you?"
"Oh no, Aunt Milly!" said Dee reassuringly. "You must have a comfortable
seat in the stern of the naphtha launch. We will give you the place Miss
Maria would have had could she have gone."
"Well, Gawd save us! I ain't nebber set foot on or in the ribber in all
my life an' I been born an' bred on its banks, too," and the old woman
drew forth a big red bandanna handkerchief and wiped her eyes.
As she did so she came upon the something round and hard tied up in its
corner, and at the same time she glanced up at Mr. Tucker. He, in a
seemingly absent-minded way, put his hand in his pocket and jingled his
keys and coin.
"Well, all right, Miss Maria! If you say I mus' go, I reckon 'tain't fer
me to gainsay you. Who gonter do my wuck at home?"
"There won't be much work to do, Milly, since all of the young people
are going away, and the general has planned to spend the day at the
court-house. The lunch baskets are ready, are they not?"
"Yassum! I been up sence sunup a-packin' 'em. It seemed like ol' times
to be a-packin' all them victuals. I 'member what a gret han' you was
for pickaniggers whin you was a gal. I reckon it's a-cuttin' all them
samwidges yistiddy dat done combusticated yo' hip now. You better let me
rub you befo' I go a shopper-roonin'."
"Thank you, Milly, but if you chaperone, that will be work enough for
you for to-day. You had better get ready now. Tell Willie to take you to
your cabin in the buggy and wait and drive you back. You must hurry and
not keep the young ladies waiting."
Aunt Milly waddled off, filled with importance and pride but secretly
dreading a water trip. Dee insisted upon massaging the poor invalid, who
really was suffering intensely. Dee was a born nurse and was never so
happy as when she could take command in a sick room. She drove all of us
out, insisting the patient must be quiet. Wink, who was really and truly
a doctor now, was called in and readily prescribed and what's more
produced the medicine from a little kit he carried about with him. Dee
rubbed and rubbed until it was time to start on the picnic. Miss Maria
was so soothed that she dozed off and Dee tiptoed out of the room
without making a sound.
No doubt the poor old lady enjoyed her day of quiet and rest. We must
have been a great trial to her, because we were a noisy, hoydenish lot.
Those of us who didn't sit up late at night making a racket, got up
early in the morning to do so, and vice versa. She was so sweet and
good-natured about us that she never let us feel we were a nuisance, but
I am sure we must have been.