SLEEPY WAKES UP
HOUSE-PARTIES have to end sometime and the one at Maxton was no
exception. We had been invited for two weeks, and although Miss Maria
graciously asked us to extend the time of our stay, we felt that the old
lady had had enough of high jinks for a while. We had become very fond
of her and I think she liked us, too. The general was in love with the
whole bunch, he declared. He made his gallant, bromidic speeches to each
one in turn, playing no favorites.
"If I were fifty years younger I would show these chaps a thing or two,"
he would say.
My private opinion was that the chaps did not need a thing or two shown
them, as they seemed quite on to the fact that Maxton was a romantic
spot and that there is no time like the present for getting off tender
nothings. There being Jacks to go around for the Jills and some to
spare, if there were any heartaches they were among the males, as there
were no wallflowers among the girls.
If the death of Sir Isaac Pore and his son and heir did not cause
overmuch grief in the heart of the storekeeper at Price's Landing, it
had a dire effect on three young men in the great house on the hill. The
only way in which they could give vent to their feelings was in heroic
attempts to assist in the inventory of the stock. That meant at least
that they could be near Annie and gain her gratitude. Annie's gratitude
was not a difficult thing to gain. She was in a state of perpetual
astonishment that all of us loved her so much.
"What have I done to make all of you so kind to me?" she would ask. And
the answer would be:
"Everything, in that you are your own sweet self."
Mr. Pore, or rather Sir Arthur, seemed to think we were helping in the
shop because of our admiration and respect for him, and since he thus
flattered himself we let him go on thinking so, and even encouraged him
in this delusion since it simplified matters for all of us. Sleepy even
sneaked the daughter off on a lovely long buggy ride while Dum checked
up a shelf full of dry-goods, supposed to be done by Annie.
The seemingly impossible was accomplished and that before we left
Maxton: a complete inventory of the stock of a crowded country store was
made and in order, all because of the many helpers. A purchaser was
found by the expeditious Zebedee, and everything, including the good
will, sold, lock, stock, and barrel, at a very good price considering
the haste of the transaction.
Annie and her father actually did get off within the week. How it was
accomplished I can't see, and as we had left Maxton before they made
their getaway I shall never know. Harvie, who was the only one of us
left, said that Sir Arthur was as standoffish and superior as ever. He
started on his journey with the same old Gladstone bag and, as far as
Harvie could make out, the same English clothes he had brought to
Price's Landing all those years and years ago.
"If they weren't the same, where on earth could he have bought any like
them? They don't make them in this country," he said, when he told me of
it.
Harvie, having awakened to the fact that Annie was a very charming,
beautiful girl, whom he had for years looked upon as a kind of sister
but who was not a sister and was moreover very much admired by other
members of his sex, now was making up for lost time as fast as possible.
He had no feeling of _noblesse oblige_ in regard to Sleepy. He surely
had as much right to love Annie as George Massie had and more right to
tell her of it, since she was almost his sister. He hovered around her
to the last, doing a million little things to help her and assuring her
in the meantime of his undying affection, but Annie never did seem to
understand that he was being any more than a big brother to her. Never
having had a big brother, she did not know that big brothers do not as
a rule express their love for the little sisters in such glowing terms.
George Massie went gloomily off when the house-party broke up. He felt
that he could not in decency stay longer at Maxton since all the others
were leaving, although he longed to be near Annie. He sought me out on
the boat when we were bound for Richmond and sighing like a furnace sank
down by my side. If it had been a sailboat we were traveling in instead
of an old side-wheel steamboat, I am sure the great sigh he heaved would
have sent us faster on our way.
"Something fierce!" he muttered.
"Yes, it is hard, but maybe they will come back sometime, or perhaps
when you get your degree you can go over to England and see her."
"Get my degree! Do you think I am going back to the University? Not on
your life!"
"But what will you do? You must have some ambition," I said rather
severely.
"Yes, I've got ambition all right; I'm going to do my bit in France as
stretcher bearer. I decided last night."
"Really?"
"Sure! I'm just wasting my time at the University. I talked it out with
Annie. She has lots of feeling about England and the war, and if she
cares, then it is up to me to help her country some."
"Oh, Sleepy! I think that is just splendid of you," I cried. "When will
you go?"
"Ahem--I'm thinking of going on the same boat with Mr.--Sir Arthur
Pore."
I could not help laughing.
"Does Annie know?"
"No, I was afraid she might make some objection. I think I'll just
surprise her on the steamer."
"Won't you have to get passports and permits and things before you can
go?"
"Yes, I'll set the ball rolling as soon as I get to Richmond. Mr. Tucker
is attending to Sir Arthur's and I guess I'll go see him as soon as we
land. He knows how to do so many things."
That was certainly so. Mr. Jeffry Tucker not only could and would match
zephyr for old ladies, but he knew just how to get passports for
pompous English noblemen who had but recently kept country stores on the
banks of the river, and for the lovely daughters. He also knew how to
get rushed-through passports for rich young medical students who had
taken sudden resolutions to do a bit in France because of a kind of
vicarious patriotism.
George Massie had a busy week. He must rush off to see his people, who
no doubt were quite confounded by his unwonted energy. He must get the
proper clothing for his undertaking and also make his will, since he had
quite an estate in his own name. He must tell many relations farewell
and explain as best he could his sudden passion for carrying the wounded
off of the battle fields.
When he came in to tell the Tuckers good-by before he went to New York
to embark on the steamer with the unsuspecting Pores, he looked almost
thin and quite wide awake, so they told me.
The Tuckers had tried to persuade me to wait in Richmond with them for
a few days before going to Bracken so that together we could see the
last of our little English friend, for Sir Arthur and Annie were to take
a train in Richmond for New York. But I had been too long away from my
father and felt that I must hasten home to him.
Needless to say that Zebedee had the passports all ready for them to
sign and berths engaged on the New York sleeper and passage on an
English vessel, sailing the following Saturday.
Tweedles told me that Annie clung to them at parting as though they had
been a life rope. The poor girl felt that she was going into a strange
cold world. It must have been even worse for her than the memorable time
when she started on what she thought was going to be that lonesome,
forlorn journey to Gresham. That trip had proven to be very enjoyable in
spite of all her fears; and perhaps this journey across the ocean was
not going to be so very forlorn, either.
I should not relish much the idea of a trip with Sir Arthur Ponsonby
Pore. I can fancy his aloof manner with fellow passengers, who perhaps
were seeking acquaintance with his lovely daughter; his disregard for
the comfort of others; his haughtiness with the steward. The only way to
travel in peace with the baronet would be to have him get good and
seasick before the vessel got out of sight of Sandy Hook, and stay so
until she was docked at Liverpool. Then he might prove a very pleasant
traveling companion, provided he was so ill that he had to stay in his
bunk.
Of course as the days passed we became desperately uneasy about Annie.
It seemed a perfect age since they had sailed and still no news of the
safe arrival of the vessel. I was at Bracken, away from the constant
calling of extras that was the rule in the city during those stirring
war times. Tweedles told me they rushed out in the night to purchase a
paper every time an extra was called, fearing news of a disaster to the
_Lancaster_, the old-fashioned wooden boat the Pores had taken.
Zebedee had promised to telephone to them if news came to his paper
concerning the steamer, news either of disaster or safety. The following
is the letter I received from Dee written in the excitement of a message
but that moment received from her father.
_Richmond, Va._
DEAREST PAGE:
Zebedee has just cabled me that he has had a telephone
message from Liverpool that a mine had struck the
_Lancaster_ about five hours out from port and the
open boats had to take to the passengers. All on board
were saved although some of the passengers were much
shaken up. (I hope Arthur Ponsonby was one of the much
shaken.) We are greatly excited about poor Annie. She
is so afraid of water. It is feared all baggage is
lost. (Good-by to the Gladstone bag!)
Dum and I can hardly wait for the cable that we just
know Sleepy will send us as soon as he can. Aren't we
glad, though, that Sleepy was along? He will take care
of Annie no matter what happens. It may be weeks and
months before we can get a letter from Annie, telling
us all about it. We are awfully sorry it should have
happened to Annie, but Dum and Zebedee and I just wish
we had been along. I bet you do, too!
These times are so stirring, I don't see how we can
all of us sit still. If our country ever gets pulled
into the mix-up I tell you I'm going to get in the dog
fight, too. Zebedee says he is, too, and so is Dum. I
want to study veterinary surgery so I can help the
poor horses when they get wounded and look after the
dear dogs who work so hard to bring in the wounded.
Zebedee is afraid that is man's work but I tell him
bosh! plain bosh! There is no such thing as man's work
any more in this world. He says I'm an emancipated
piece and I tell him I'm glad he realizes it. Dum and
I are hard at work at war relief work. We go three
times a week and roll bandages. I like the work but
Dum sits up and lets tears drop on the bandages,
thinking about all the poor soldiers they are to bind
up. I cry a little, too, sometimes. Zebedee says if we
bawl over new bandages, what would we do over real
wounds? I tell him salt is a good antiseptic and a few
sincere tears won't hurt the poor wounded.
Dum and I have adopted a French war orphan between us.
Ten cents keeps one for a day and it does seem mean of
us not to give that much. We always waste that much
money, and more, every day of our lives. It means only
letting up a bit on the movies or drinking water
instead of limeade when one is thirsty. Zebedee has
got himself one all by himself and he is going to keep
it by letting up on one cigar a day. He says his smoke
is bitter to him now that he realizes that every time
he lights a ten cent cigar he might be feeding a
little Belgian baby. We offered to get him some rabbit
tobacco and dry it nicely so he could smoke it in a
pipe, but he said never mind. Poor Zebedee is so
choosey about his smoke that he would rather give it
up altogether than not have it good.
We've got a scheme on hand for a jaunt but I'm going
to let Zebedee have the pleasure of springing it on
you if the plan works out. Dum says I'm not leaving a
thing for her to tell. She says it is not ethical for
one member of a family to write such a long letter to
a person that other members correspond with, but I
tell her I have told you very little news and that my
letter has been more taken up with psychology and the
conduct of life.
Of course I started this letter to tell you about
Annie and the good ship _Lancaster_, but since all I
know about it is that it hit a mine and all hands were
saved in open boats I could not enlarge on that bit of
news much. We will let you know when we hear more.
Zebedee and Dum and Brindle send you much love. Give
mine to Dr. Allison and Mammy Susan, also many hugs to
the dogs.
Affectionately,
DEE.