THE SHOPPER-ROON
OF course Aunt Milly kept us waiting. There is no telling what rite she
performed in her cabin in preparation for the momentous occasion of
chaperoning. We were all seated in the boats waiting, the lunch stowed
carefully in the locker of the launch and the bathing suits tucked under
the seats, when Willie came racing up in a light red-wheeled buggy, one
side so bent down with Aunt Milly's great weight that the springs were
touching.
"Gawd pertec' me!" she prayed as Harvie and Zebedee between them handed
her into the launch. The little craft did some perceptible sinking with
the extra load and had to be lightened a bit.
"Sleepy, you had better get out," teased Rags.
Poor Sleepy had been having a strenuous week trying to monopolize Annie
Pore. This was a difficult thing to do, as Annie seemed to attract the
male sex willy nilly. She had no idea of flirting and never meant to
hurt anyone, but there was something about her that appealed to the
masculine element irresistibly. Wherever she went she made conquests by
a certain clinging vine attitude she had towards the whole world. Mere
man likes to be looked upon as a protector and Annie's timidity was meat
and drink to his vanity. George Massie, alias Sleepy, was her slave;
Harvie Price thought he looked upon her as a little sister, but I have
never yet seen a big brother quite so anxious for the comfort of nothing
but a sister; Jack Bennett seemed to find her very attractive and
divided his allegiance between her and Dee; nothing but his loyalty to
Sleepy kept Ben Raglan from entering the lists for the favor of the
little English maid. He occasionally teased poor Sleepy, but that young
giant never did know what I knew: that Rags really cared for Annie.
Sleepy, knowing that the launch was the safest place in which to embark
for a picnic and understanding how timid Annie was and how poor a
swimmer, had ensconced her in that vessel in a protected spot, and had
found a place at her feet where he could look up into her pretty face.
"Me get out? Get out yourself!" he cried indignantly.
"But it is not quality they want out but quantity," answered Rags. "You
and Aunt Milly, being in the same boat, can't ride in the same boat."
Now George Massie was not really fat, but because of his great bulk he
was usually thought of as being so. Certainly his bones were well
covered but his muscles were hard as iron. What fat was there was well
hammered down. He must have weighed at that time at least two hundred
and twenty pounds, but then his six feet two inches could carry a good
many pounds. He was cursed with money if ever a young man was. His
father was very wealthy and George had never been denied a single thing
in all his life. His principal ambition had been to make the football
team at the University and even that had been granted him,--not because
of money but because of brawn.
He was studying medicine in a desultory way, taking a year longer to
finish his course than the more ambitious Wink, who was not cursed at
all with money but had unbounded energy and ambition. Sleepy's friends,
and he had many of those necessary things, all adored him. He was so
honest, so straightforward, so sympathetic. They deplored his lack of
ambition, however. I used to feel that Sleepy was a lesson to all of the
young men in his set because they realized that after all too much money
often had a softening effect on character. There seemed to be no
especial use for George Massie to graduate, because after he got his
diploma what difference would it make whether he got patients or not?
His adoration of Annie Pore had had a good effect on him, so Jim Hart
had told me. The last year at the University he had done better studying
than he ever had in his life, and his friends had hopes of his waking up
to the fact that the world might need him, even if he did not need the
world's money in doctor's fees.
"Yes, Sleepy! You'll have to vamoose," insisted Jack Bennett, trying to
squeeze himself down between George Massie and Annie.
"You are as big as any two other passengers," declared Rags.
"If that is the case, then suppose two other passengers take to the
life-boats," suggested Zebedee. "Come on, Page, you are light and easy
to row and there is a nice little brown boat waiting for us."
Dum and Billy Somers had already started in their picturesque red skiff,
and Mary Flannagan and Shorty were well on their way in the canoe. They
had been independent and had not had to wait while Aunt Milly arrayed
herself in all the glories of a brand new purple calico and bright plaid
head handkerchief.
"All right!" I acquiesced to Mr. Tucker's proposal.
After we were transferred to the little brown boat and on our way to
Croxton's Ford, he said:
"I am afraid I was selfish to ask you to come with me. I know I should
not have taken you away from all of your young friends."
"Why, Zebedee! How absurd! You are the youngest friend I have, much the
youngest."
"But you gave a very sad and unenthusiastic 'all right' to my
proposition to come by skiff. Now, didn't you?"
"But it wasn't that I didn't want to come with you," I declared.
"Perhaps not, but merely that you didn't want to leave someone else to
come with me. Now fess up, honey!"
"I have nothing to fess up about."
"Well, then, why did you look so crestfallen when I put it up to you to
leave the launch?" and Zebedee dug his oars in the water with some
viciousness.
"I didn't mean to. I--I----"
"You what?"
"I had a reason for wanting to stay in the launch."
"Didn't I say so? Who was the reason?"
"It wasn't a who, at all--it was a which."
"A which?" he asked somewhat mystified.
"Yes, a which! If you must know, I wanted to be under the awning because
of my freckled nose," and I blushed until it hurt. My nose was a great
annoyance to me. It was such a little nose to get so many freckles on
it. The fact that they disappeared in the winter was but cold comfort to
me.
"But I like freckles," he said quite solemnly, but his eyes were dancing
with amusement.
"But I don't, and it's my nose. You are the only person who does like
'em."
"Who has been telling you he doesn't like them?"
"Nobody to my face, or rather to my freckles, but I heard Jessie Wilcox
talking to someone about me and she called me a speckled beauty,--just
exactly as though I were a trout or a coach dog or a turkey egg or
something. And I know after this day on the water I'll be a sight."
"Do you care what she says?"
"I care what anybody says."
"Why, little friend, I did not dream you put so much value on the
opinion of others, especially where mere personal appearance is
concerned." I thought I detected a note of disappointment in his voice.
"I don't about everything, but one's nose is mighty close to one,
somehow."
"So it is," he laughed, "and I am so sorry to have been the means of
injuring that touchy member. I can't help feeling kind of happy, though,
that it was the awning you were loath to leave and not some one of those
boys. Here's a nice linen handkerchief; why don't you tie that over your
nose?"
Mr. Tucker always had the nicest linen handkerchiefs I ever saw, and he
seemed to have clean, folded ones ready to produce for every emergency.
I accepted his offer and tied it over the lower part of my face.
"Now you look like a little Turkish lady. Please say you are glad you
came in the little brown boat," and my boatman shipped his oars and
drifted with the current.
It was a very easy thing to say because I was very glad. Now that my
poor little nose was protected, I was perfectly happy. I always enjoyed
being with Zebedee. We never talked out and we seldom had a
disagreement; not that we agreed on every subject by any means, but we
could disagree without having a disagreement. We talked about everything
under the sun from Shakespeare to the musical glasses. I couldn't help
comparing this boat ride to the one I had been overpersuaded to take
with Wink only a few days before. We had started out with the best of
intentions on my part to avoid all shoals in conversation, but before we
had been out ten minutes Wink was gnawing his little moustache in fury
and I was wishing I had stayed on shore. A row with Wink was sure to end
in a row (pronounced rou).
The launch arrived at Croxton's Ford long before we did, but we came as
fast as the current allowed, having drifted a good part of the way. The
party had landed and had begun to make the camp for the day. It was a
wonderful spot chosen for the picnic. A large creek, flowing into the
river, broadened out almost into a lake, and in the mouth of this creek
were innumerable small islands. Some of them had large trees growing on
them, lovely sandy beaches and strips of verdure; others were too young
to have trees but were covered with grass. The camp was pitched on the
largest island, right at the mouth of the creek that afforded a landing
for the launch. There was a famous spring on this island that was
thought by the county people to have some great curative power. What it
cured you of I don't know, but it tasted too good to be much good as a
medicine, I imagine.
Aunt Milly, who had proven herself to be an ideal chaperone, having
slept during the entire journey, was now ensconced under a water oak on
a warm sand bank with nothing to do but enjoy herself. This she did
immediately by falling asleep again.
"Whin I ain't a-wuckin', I's a-sleepin'," she droned as slumber enfolded
her.
Of course the camp fire must be made and potatoes and corn put to roast
and the coffee-pot filled with the sparkling spring water. The trip down
had made everybody hungry, whether accomplished without exertion as by
those in the launch; or with the sweat of the brow as by Mary and Shorty
in the canoe, or Dum and Billy Somers in the red skiff; or with just
enough work to keep the boat in the current which was Zebedee's and my
method of locomotion: one and all were hungry.
"While dinner is cooking, let's have a swim," suggested Harvie. "You
girls take this side of the island for a dressing-room and we'll take
the other. Here are some low willows that make splendid walls."
Bathing suits were produced and while our chaperone slumbered and slept,
we got into them and then into the water. Such water! It was clear and
soft, so much more so than the water of the big river. The bottom was
clean sand with no disturbing rocks and snags. The trees shaded the
place chosen for our swim where the sloping beach made it safe for the
timid close to shore, but ten yards of perseverance plunged the bold
swimmer into really deep water.
The shouts of joy would have waked the dead had there been any on the
island, but nothing waked the sleeping Aunt Milly. She had burrowed down
in the unresisting sand almost as deep as some meteoric stone might have
done. There she lay, having the rest that she deserved after the "mos' a
hun'erd years er cookin'" that she declared she had served at Maxton.
"This is my island!" cried Dum, swimming over to a beautiful spot about
twenty yards from camp. She clambered out on the strip of sand and stood
with arms outstretched looking very handsome, her lithe young figure
drawn up to its full height. "I am monarch of all I survey! I'm queen of
this land!"
"Let me come help you rule," pleaded Billy Somers, who had followed her.
"I don't need a prime minister just now, thank you, but you might get in
the waiting list."
"Thanks awfully!" and the young Kentuckian threw himself on the warm
sand at her feet. What nice fellows those Kentuckians were, anyhow!
They were full of life and fun, clean minded, clear thinking,
well-mannered boys. Dum and Billy were friends from the moment they met
and were usually the ringleaders in any larks that were started on the
house-party. The strange thing about the friendship was that they looked
alike, so very much alike that I believe some pioneer ancestor of
Billy's must have come from the Tucker stock.
Billy's hair had a bit more red in it than Dum's, not much, just enough
to make his hair in the shade about the color Dum's was in the sun.
Their foreheads were identical and their chins had the same tendency to
get square when an argument was under way. They really looked quite as
much alike as the twins themselves did. Zebedee declared that Billy made
him feel a hundred years old because he looked so like his son, if he
had ever had one. Billy was about three years older than the twins, and
when we consider that the twins were born when their father was only
twenty, no wonder the possibility of a son at seventeen made poor Mr.
Tucker blue.
[Illustration: "THIS IS OUR ISLAND AND WE ARE GOING TO PERMIT NO ALIENS
TO LAND HERE."
Page 178.]
"This is our island and we are going to permit no aliens to land here,"
called Dum as a challenge to all of us. "I am Queen Dum and Billy is
General Billdad. We have held counsel and herewith make the proclamation
that there is to be no immigration to this kingdom."
It took only a moment for us to answer the challenge. Dee headed the
opposing forces, making a long dive that brought her up almost on the
beach of the little kingdom. Dum was ready to push her back in the water
and kerflop! she went before Zebedee could come to her aid. Then ensued
such a battle as had not been fought in the United States since Custer's
last rally.
Of course Dum and Billy had the advantage of position, but we so far
outnumbered them that it took all of their strength to keep us from
landing.
"Mary! Mary! You and Shorty come be our allies!" called Queen Dum to the
couple who had gone to housekeeping on a small island near her own.
Mary slid into the water like a turtle and Shorty followed. They landed
from the rear and now the battle raged fiercely.
I know I got pitched back into the water at least a dozen times. Having
learned to swim only the summer before at Willoughby, I was not a past
master in the art, but I could keep above water indefinitely, thanks to
Zebedee, my instructor, who had made floating the first requisite.
The odds were in our favor but the vantage they had in position was
well-nigh discouraging us, when Zebedee and Wink made a flank movement
and landed on the other side of the island, immediately pushing over the
opposing forces into the foaming torrent and then pulling all of us onto
dry land.
"Victory! Victory!" we shouted; and then for the first time since the
battle began to rage we remembered our chaperone. She had awakened and
dug herself out of her warm sand nest. What were her charges up to? It
never entered the old woman's head that we were playing a game, and I
fancy we looked in dead earnest.
When she had dozed off after landing we were all of us clothed and in
our right minds, and suddenly she awoke to find us anything but clothed,
according to her strict ideas of propriety among the quality, never
having seen girls in bathing suits; and not only were we in disgraceful
dishabille, but we were engaged in a distressing brawl.
"My Gawd! My Gawd!" she wailed. "Here I been a-slumberin' an' sleepin'
an' Miss Maria done tol' me to shopper-roon. I trus'ed de white folks
an' look at 'em!" She covered her face with her hands and wept aloud.
I fancy we were something to look at. Bathing caps were off and hair wet
and tangled streaming down our backs. Dee had lost a stocking in the
tussle and Rags had been bereft of more than half of his shirt, so that
his white back gleamed forth in a most immodest abandon. Shorty had
tapped Harvie on the nose and that scion of a noble race was bleeding
like a stuck pig. The gore added color to the scene, and had not Aunt
Milly already been certain that this was a real war we were raging, the
blood of her young master would have convinced her.
"Hi, you! You!" she called. "Quit dat!"
The battle being won, we had stopped for repairs but there were still
here and there some fitful hostilities. For instance: Shorty had
determined that Harvie needed some cold water on his bleeding nose and
was rolling him into the creek. Both of them were shouting and
pommelling each other as they rolled.
As they approached the large island where our camp was pitched, Aunt
Milly became very much excited. Who were these vile wretches who had
accepted the hospitality of the Prices and then turned against them, and
while she, the natural protector of the young master, was sleeping, had
well-nigh stripped him of his clothes and then bloodied him all over
with his own blue blood, which was certainly flowing very redly?
"Hi, you! You little low flung, no 'count, bench-legged trash! What you
a-doin' ter Mr. Harbie?" she called to the all-unconscious Shorty, who
was having the time of his life as he and his friend wallowed in the
water, wrestling as they swam.
But Aunt Milly saw no joke in such doings. She looked around for
something to use as a weapon and spied the camp fire where the corn and
potatoes were being prepared to fulfill their mission. They were done to
a turn by that tune and the fire had died down to a bed of red embers.
The old woman grabbed from the ashes a great yam and with an aim that
astonished one, she threw it and hit Shorty a sounding whack on his
back.
"Wow!" yelled that young warrior.
"You'd better wow! An' don' you lan' here; you go back ter dem Injuns
whar you come wid."
"Why, Aunt Milly! What on earth?" gasped Harvie as he saw the old woman
stooping for more ammunition.
"Yo' ol' Milly gwine he'p you, dat's what!" She aimed another at the
astonished Shorty, but that young man turned himself into a submarine
and disappeared.
Harvie clambered out of the water spluttering and laughing. His nose had
stopped bleeding now and the water had washed off all traces of the gory
disaster. He caught the rampant Milly by the arm:
"Aunt Milly, it's all a joke, a game! Nobody was abusing me. Don't throw
away the potatoes, we are so hungry."
"Lawsamussy, chile! You can't fool this ol' nigger. I's seen folks
a-playin' an' I's a-seen folks a-fightin', an' if'n that there warn't a
battle royal, I neber seed one."
By this time all of us were headed for camp. As we came ashore her
expression was still a belligerent one and she had a hot potato which
she tossed from hand to hand ready for an emergency.
It took all the tact the Tuckers could muster among them to convince
Aunt Milly that we had not been fighting, and even after she seemed to
be convinced, she growled a bit when Shorty appeared all dressed and
spruce, with his hair plastered down tight and his arm linked in
Harvie's. She had the fidelity of some old dog for its master and it
would take some time to erase from her mind and heart that terrible
scene of Mr. Harbie being beaten and blooded and pitched into the water.
We led her back to her seat in the sand and brought her dinner to her.
We would not let her help cook or serve, but treated her like a real
chaperone and waited on her right royally. She rolled her eyes a bit
when to Shorty was relegated the task of taking her a cup of coffee. He
pretended to be very much frightened and trembled violently as he handed
her the brimming cup.
"Aunt Milly, how did you learn how to throw so well? You hit me with
that potato just as though you belonged to a baseball nine."
"I been a-practicin' all my life a-throwin' at rats," she growled.
This brought down the house.