near the corral, and had originally been intended for a bunk-house, when
John Spooner's hand was on the helm, and Silver Spur promised to be a
paying ranch. He was patching a pair of overalls and talking animatedly
to the Babe, who was, as usual, a rapt listener. "So Giner'l Jackson
sez, sez'e: 'Send me the pick o' your men from each company.' And, when
he looks us over, he p'ints at me. 'What's that runty, tallow-faced
little chap named? And what's he good for?' he asts the cap'n o' my
company. And the cap'n ups and 'lows: 'His name's Jonah Bean, Giner'l,
and he's a powerful hand at--"
"O, Jonah!" interrupted the Babe, sorrowfully, "Ivanhoe never ran--nor
King Richard Sour-de-lion either. Nobody but caitiffs and paynims and
folks like that ought ever to run."
"Why you see, honey," explained old Jonah patiently, "what the cap'n
meant was that I was like the Irishman's pig--'mighty little but mighty
lively', and could git over ground faster'n common."
"O," said the Babe in a relieved tone, "I'm glad _you_ weren't a paynim
or a caitiff, Jonah."
"No," hastily denied Jonah, "I warn't--I ain't no kin to none o' them
sort of folks; I'm a Tennesseean, me'n all my forefathers before me.
Well, the Giner'l calls me up, and sez, sez'e: 'Private Bean, your
country is dependin' on you to do some mighty tall runnin' to-day. Kin
I depend on you to run so fast the Yankees can't ketch you?'
"I s'luted, and sez I'd do my levelest. Then, as I was a-sayin' he gimme
the papers and my orders. 'Twas a long way from the ferry, so's to save
time I swum the Jeems river--high water, and twenty-five mile acrost,
more or less, I disremember rightly, And then, man, sir! I everlastin'
burnt the wind! Minie-balls was a-rainin' like hail, and I jest
natchully had to kick the bombshells out'n my way. Right through the
enemy's lines till I fetched up at Giner'l Lee's headquarters, s'luted
and turned them papers over to him dry as powder--for I'd swum with 'em
under my hat."
"King Richard would 'a' made you a knight!" breathed the Babe, in
ecstatic admiration.
"They didn't have none o' them in our army, honey, or they mighter. I
shore'd 'a' been promoted to sergeant anyhow, if Giner'l Jackson hadn't
'a' been killed before he could send in my recommend." The Babe
murmured her regret over the General's untimely taking off.
"Mornin', ma'am," Jonah greeted Mrs. Spooner, who just then came up.
"Me'n the Babe, here, was jest a-talkin' over old times. She was
a-tellin' me the news from Cuby and I was mentionin' of a few things
happened back yander in the sixties. I says this here Cubian war ain't
no thin' 'tall but jest chillun's play-war."
"I hope and pray so, Jonah," said Mrs. Spooner, her voice trembling a
little. "But--war is war, I'm afraid."
And to this, Jonah, scoffer though he was, could only agree. War, even
a play war, meant some danger.
It was after dark when Roy returned from Emerald, and--as he had done
the last time, instead of riding up the front way and whistling a signal
from the road, he came in at the back, surprising the whole family, who
were all gathered in the kitchen.
"Howdy-do, folks! Gee, that fried chicken smells good, Ruth! Mrs.
Pratt sent you a quarter of mutton, Mother Spooner--they had just killed
a sheep. I hung it up on the peg outside the back door to keep sweet."
He smiled affectionately on the Babe, who was eyeing with much curiosity
a big package under his arm. "And this, I reckon, must be that birthday
bundle from Cuba; I found it at the express office."
There was a shout of joy from the Babe, and a satisfied exclamation from
her sisters, who had about given up hope of the package's arriving on
time, the mails from Cuba being very uncertain.
"Day after to-morrow is mother's birthday--just in the nick of time,"
they exulted. "Don't you dare take one little, little peep till then.
Lock it up in your bureau-drawer, Ruth, so she won't have temptation
before her eyes," laughed Elizabeth, and Ruth bore off the package, in
spite of the Babe's protest that maybe father had sent a little present
to Jonah--and he wouldn't like to wait!
"Maybe there's something in it for a little girl or so," laughed her
mother, "but I think we can wait. For I'll be forty years old, and it
needs pleasant things to make a fortieth birthday happy, I can tell
you."
At this the Babe hugged herself in delight, to think there was still
another pleasant thing in store for her mother. For to-morrow Elizabeth
and Ruth had planned to make a wonderful cake, iced white like a real
Christmas cake, which, on the birthday they intended to light with forty
tiny pink candles, already bought and hidden away in Elizabeth's trunk.
To console herself, she fell to dreaming over the lovely things shut up
in the brown paper package--to think of anything real hard was nearly as
good as seeing it.
"Mrs. Pratt's Maudie got back from her grandmother's last night," said
Roy, as they all sat at supper--except Jonah, who, because of his foot,
had had his supper carried to him by the Babe.
"They're planning for a big celebration and a Harvest Home festival in
Emerald next week, and she wants the girls to go over and spend a few
days. Mrs. Pratt particularly said both, if you can spare them."
"I wonder what Handle's grandmother gave her this time," said Ruth,
rather wistfully. "She always has so many pretty things when she comes
back from a visit out there. It must be lovely to have a grandmother
who is well-off." She sighed a little, thinking of the many-times
laundered cotton frocks that served Elizabeth and herself for all
dress-up occasions. Maudie, no doubt, would have a challis, or maybe
even a summer silk.
Elizabeth said nothing, but at the mention of a well-to-do grandmother
she felt a blush of shame creeping over her face. It was such a little
while ago that she had indulged in beautiful dreams of unknown and
wealthy relations; stately grandmothers with high-piled white hair, gold
lorgnettes and rustling silks; and haughtily handsome grandfathers of
ancient lineage and great wealth, who would see that she was lavishly
supplied with means to buy the beautiful clothes necessary for a girl
who would move in the highest circles of society. Dreams that ended in
such a sordid awakening--O, poor Elizabeth!
Mrs. Spooner's mother eyes saw what the girl tried so hard to conceal,
and she said with quiet emphasis: "I wouldn't give any one of my three
girls with their cotton frocks, for a dozen Maudies with a dozen silks
apiece!"
It was next morning that Roy explained his mysterious trips to town.
"You know your mother can't walk much," he said, "and she can't ride a
pony, like we do. So when I saw a second-hand phaeton for sale I made
up my mind to buy it for her birthday gift. Shasta works fine in
harness, so I rode her to town, hooked her up to the old phaeton, and,
last week, brought it home and hid it out in the corral shed, where I've
been putting in odd minutes painting it, while Jonah's cutting down the
harness to fit Shasta. It's just shreds and patches now, and a mile too
big. The phaeton's pretty rickety as to looks, so I went yesterday and
got some cloth and fringe for the top, and you girls must help me fix up
the curtains so's I'll get it done in time for her to take a drive on
her birthday."
"I do think you are a wonder, Roy," admired Elizabeth, with sparkling
eyes. "The very thing she needed most--and had no idea she'd get till
father comes home."
"A package from Cuba, and a cake and a _phantom_!" exulted the Babe, who
was present. "That's a _cossal_ thing, Roy."
"She means colossal," explained Elizabeth, as Roy turned a bewildered
look on her. And Ruth added: "She gets them out of books, those long
words that she can't pronounce. I wish Mother could send her to
school--she reads too much."
"People can't read too much, Ruth," said the Babe severely. "Some time,
when I go to school I'm going to learn to read well enough to read all
the books in the round world. Jonah says there ain't nothin' like
_eddication_!"
"Sure--I agree with Jonah," laughed Roy. "Sorry I can't have a fine
'eddication,' I'd like it the best sort. But come on and let's have a
look at the _phantom_."
It _was_ a pretty rickety phaeton--as to cover and cushions; Roy had
already made it spruce with a good many coats of leather-brown paint.
He showed the girls the fringe and the lining he had bought to renovate
the canopy-top.
"We'll cover the cushions right away," said Ruth, viewing the
dilapidated affairs that had, in the distant past, been spick and spandy
leather cushions.
"There, now--I knew I'd never recollect everything!" said Roy, ruefully.
"I just got enough brown stuff to line the top--I clean forgot the
cushions."
Elizabeth, as usual, solved the difficulty.
"Mother has an old brown broadcloth skirt she doesn't wear. It'll make
perfect cushion-covers, just the right shade. I'll take the measures
now and stitch up the covers in no time."
"Elizabeth always did have a head on her shoulders!" admired Ruth. "I'm
willing enough, but I never could do anything but just cook. Anyway,
I'll make the birthday cake."
"And I'll beat the eggs--I can beat eggs go nice and soap-suddy,"
boasted the Babe.
"That'll be a great help. We don't want any hit-or-miss cake.
Everything's got to be properly weighed and measured and beaten. Now
let's go see how Jonah's coming on with the harness."
Jonah, with the harness in a big cotton-basket which could be hidden
from sight by throwing a horse-blanket over it if Mrs. Spooner happened
along, was seated indoors, busily snipping and stitching and patching
away at the rusty-looking leather.
"Now don't you-all come a-frustratin' me till I git th'ough with my
job," fumed the old man, rather crossly, "'course, you'll 'low 'tain't
much to look at--which I ain't a-denyin'--but jest wait till me'n the
boy gits done--then jedge by ree-sults."
Roy sighed a little bit wistfully. "I did want to get something better,
but my money barely held out for this."
"Something better?" scolded the girls, "who wants anything better?"
"A lovely, low-hung, leather-brown phaeton," added Elizabeth,
alliteratively, "is a thing of beauty. Add brown cushions, brown
harness and a perfectly-matching brown pony and it'll be too stylish for
anything."
"That's sure 'seeing things', Elizabeth," laughed Roy. "Glad you
believe in us. I'll work at the phaeton and try to have it looking as
much as possible like your fancy picture by to-morrow. Jonah'll boss
the harness job, and you girls can transform the cushions."
There were great preparations going on that day, right under Mrs.
Spooner's unsuspecting eyes. The girls had ironed the clothes the day
before, insisting that they required mending immediately, much to their
mother's surprise, for they didn't usually bother about the mending.
There was indeed plenty of it to do, and, since Mr. Spooner's absence,
very little money to buy new clothes, so that the best the patient
mother could do was to mend and darn and patch, till, like the Cotter's
wife, she "made old clothes look almost as well as new."
She sat on the front porch and darned and mended busily, while in the
kitchen Ruth and the Babe--who did beat the whites into most wonderful
soap-suds, made a marvelous silver-cake, which they iced thick and
white--a regular Christmas-cake. And Elizabeth ripped up the old brown
skirt, sponged and pressed the cloth, and made the cushions as neatly as
any upholsterer could have done. Roy and Jonah Bean, at the same time,
were transforming the harness and phaeton, to have it all done by the
next morning. Roy, having his own and Jonah's work to do, had to snatch
odd moments to rub down the paint and re-cover the ancient top.
Mrs. Spooner was allowed to open her package from Cuba on her birthday
morning, with the three girls crowding round to see--the Babe quivering
with eager anticipation.
Mrs. Spooner unwrapped from its folds of tissue-paper the gift they all
knew to be hers--a shawl or scarf of black, heavily-woven silk,
embroidered in most wonderfully natural pansies; a regular Cuban
mantilla, exquisitely made.
The girls were so delighted, draping their mother in its soft folds, and
admiring the effect, that they quite forgot a smaller package which was
still unopened--all but the Babe, who continued to gaze upon it with
fascinated eyes.
"O, Mother, _please_ open the little bundle," she begged at last.
"I'm--I'm just on _ten-pins_ to see what's in it!"
"Now where'd she get _that_ word? What on earth does it mean?" laughed
Ruth, who was often puzzled over her little sister's expressions.
"Tenterhooks," translated Elizabeth. "Only she got 'hooks' mixed up with
pins and needles. Do open it, mother, and relieve the 'ten-pins'!"
"I'll let the Babe open it herself. I'm sure she can pick out her own
present," smiled the mother, as she gave the smaller package to the
child.
With awed delight the Babe removed the tissue-paper slowly, as befitting
a solemn rite: three tantalizing little bundles were disclosed, tightly
wrapped. She opened the first; it contained a painted Spanish fan.
"This must be for Elizabeth," concluded the Babe, with decision, and
handed over the fan to Elizabeth, who waved it with languid grace,
imagining herself to be a Spanish Senorita.
The next parcel held a pretty handkerchief, with a wide border of
Mexican drawn-work; this the Babe promptly turned over to Ruth. "I
don't want that--I can borrow mother's," she said, with fine assurance.
"O, but I do! I never had a real pretty handkerchief in my life. I
don't believe even Maudie Pratt has one as pretty as this," exclaimed
Ruth, happily.
On this little ranch where things were hard to get at best, the thrifty
mother always cut up the flour sacks into neat squares, which she hemmed
on the machine; these when washed and ironed were piled neatly in each
girl's little handkerchief-box, for every-day use. For Sundays and
extra occasions there was a little square of muslin, hemstitched and
bordered with narrow lace. No Spooner ever dreamed of possessing a
better handkerchief. No wonder that Ruth exulted over her gift.
The third was a little white box. When the Babe removed the lid she
hugged the box to her bosom and pranced joyously about the room.
"My beads, my beads!" she crowed, ecstatically. "My own dear, beautiful
pink necklace!" she held out a string of coral before her family's
admiring eyes. "Put it on for me, Elizabeth, so I can run show it to
Roy and Jonah," she begged. "O, mother--" with a sudden look of
consternation, "suppose I didn't guess right?"
"You guessed exactly right," reassured her mother, "but Elizabeth,
child, what are you pinning my hat on for?"
"Just walk out in front and behold another birthday gift," said
Elizabeth, busily pinning on the hat. "There, now, you're all
ready--hat, shawl and everything."
Wondering, her mother obeyed, and beheld drawn up at the door a spick
and spandy looking little low phaeton, painted a beautiful leather
brown; its fringed canopy-top fresh and neat, its cushions upholstered
in handsome brown broadcloth, and harnessed to a perfectly-matching
brown pony, in neatly fitting brown harness, already for taking a drive.
"O, my dears!" there was consternation in Mrs. Spooner's voice. "Did
you go and buy a _phaeton_! How in the world did you manage? You know
we simply must not go in debt."
A chorus of protest reassured her. The gift was none of theirs--they
had not gone in debt. Roy had bought it for her with his own money.
"For just nothing at all, Mother Spooner," he hastened to assure her.
"It was just junk. We, Jonah, the girls and I, fixed it up for you, so
it's really a family gift. And you'll find Shasta gentle as a kitten.
Now you and the Babe get in, and and Jonah and I'll escort you in
style--we are going to take you over the ranch and come back in time for
the birthday dinner Ruth and Elizabeth are going to fix up."
As the procession clattered down the driveway and out into the trail
along the prairie, the Babe nestled close to her mother and sighed
blissfully--she had in mind another surprise that was to help make the
fortieth birthday a pleasant one. A big, Christmassy cake, iced white
as snow and covered with forty tiny pink candles.
*CHAPTER IV*
*A Jewel of Great Price*
Every single member of the Spooner family with the exception of Jonah
Bean, who declared he didn't have no time to waste a-pleasurin', were
going to Emerald, to spend the day with Cousin Hannah Pratt and take
part in the Harvest Home festival.
Cousin Hannah, having heard of the new phaeton, declared that now Mrs.
Spooner didn't have an earthly thing to prevent her coming to town, and
she had sent such urgent entreaties by Roy, that at last the mistress of
the ranch was prevailed upon to accept the invitation.
"But I can only spend the day," she declared, "we can't all be spared at
once; Jonah is just able to be about, we mustn't leave him too much work
to do. The Babe and I will come back in the afternoon, and the girls
can stay--and you, Roy?"
There was a little note of interrogation in her voice as she laid her
hand affectionately upon the boy's shoulder. She was almost sure that
he wouldn't want to go to a party that his grief was too recent.
Roy patted her hand, smiling a little sadly as he shook his head. "I
don't feel equal to parties yet," he said.
"And as to both Ruth and me staying, that's out of the question,"
decided Elizabeth. "There'll be a hundred and one things to do, and
you'll try to do them every one. Ruth's going to stay all night because
it's her turn--Mary and I went last year. So _that's_ settled, mother."
After some argument, Ruth--who really did want to stay very much,
yielded. If Elizabeth wouldn't stay, why she would, and be glad to.
"And you may carry my fan," said Elizabeth generously, "nobody--not even
Maudie, will have such a beautiful one. And you shall wear my pink
girdle, too, it's newer than your sash."
The Babe sighed. She was having a mental struggle as to whether she
could practise self-denial enough to lend her sister the string of coral
beads that were the delight of her heart. The situation finally
resulted in a compromise.
"And _I'll_ lend you my beads--after I've wore 'em all day. But you
mustn't forget to feel every now and then for the catch, to see if it's
fastened," she warned.
"Thank you, Babe, I will," laughed Ruth, "and I'll take good care of
your fan, too, Elizabeth. Dear me, won't I be fine! Pink coral, and
pink girdle, a Spanish fan and my drawn-work handkerchief!"
"I don't approve of girls borrowing things from each other," said Mrs.
Spooner, doubtfully. "I've known serious trouble to result from such
practices. There's always danger of losing or injuring the things, you
know. But, if you sisters want to lend, I won't object. Only be very
careful, because you couldn't replace them if they were lost."
"I'll be careful as care, mother--don't you worry." And Ruth ran
happily away, to pack her suit-case and get together her simple finery.
There were various attractions to be at the celebration. A brass band
from a big town would play in the public square, between speeches by
noted members of the State Grange. Pony-races by cowboys from the
neighboring ranches, the inevitable roping match, a big open-air dinner
for the public, and, to wind up with a dance at night in the town-hall,
where the various exhibits from the farms--the grain, fruits and
vegetables--were displayed.
As the Spooners desired to see all these spectacles, they started out
bright and early; Mrs. Spooner, the Babe and Ruth's suitcase in the
phaeton, the girls and Roy riding their ponies.
Cousin Hannah, whose husband--a mild little man, quite overshadowed by
his big, bustling wife--was a rancher without a ranch, spending most of
his time taking cattle to the fattening ranges above, or to market in
other states, lived in a big, flimsily built frame house in the little
prairie town of Emerald. Mrs. Pratt boarded the station-agent, the
telegraph operator, the school-teacher, and nearly all of what might be
termed the floating population of the town.
Maudie, the Pratt's only child, was a girl about Elizabeth's age, rather
pretty and very much spoiled by her mother and her grandmother, who
lived in another state, and who often had Maudie come and visit her.
Mr. Pratt, who happened to be at home for the festival, with his wife,
came out to meet their guests, welcoming them with much hospitality.
"The sight of you's sure good for sore eyes, Jennie," exclaimed Cousin
Hannah, as she folded Mrs. Spooner in her ample embrace. "I'm tickled
to death to see you! And ain't that buggy a sight. It looks 'most as
good as new, I declare!"
"It's not a buggy, Cousin Hannah--it's a _phantom_," said the Babe, with
dignity.
Almost as good as new, indeed! Where were Cousin Hannah's eyes? Very
few phaetons looked so new and delightful, to the Babe's vision, anyway,
as this vehicle, in whose loving rejuvenation every one of them had been
allowed to have a hand.
"A phantom, is it?" laughed Cousin Hannah. "Well, you come in here to
the dining-room and find out whether these cookies are phantoms. The
big girls want to go up to Maudie's room, I know. Run along, honies,
I'll take care of your ma and the Babe, and Mr. Pratt'll look after Roy.
Maudie ain't come out, yet; she's feelin' poorly, and wants to save up
her strength for to-night. Maudie's right delicate."
"Come in!" called out Maudie, when Elizabeth and Ruth, with the
suit-case between them, rapped at her door.
The young lady sat at her dresser, attired in a much trimmed and
flowered kimona, leisurely "doing" her nails with a silver-handled
polisher from an elaborate dressing-case spread open before her.
"Hello! If it ain't Elizabeth and Ruth!" she greeted, with somewhat
condescending cordiality. "You all come in to see the country jays
celebrate? Emerald's such a pokey little hole folks are glad to see
most anything, for a change."
"If you think Emerald's dull, Maudie, what would you do out on our
ranch?" asked Elizabeth, laughingly.
Maudie shuddered. "Horrors! Don't mention it--such a fate would be too
unspeakable!"
"Yet Elizabeth and I manage to stand it--and I reckon we're as happy as
most girls," protested Ruth, stoutly.
"O, that's because you don't know any better. You've never enjoyed the
advantages of city life, as I have," said Maudie superiorly.
"I suppose your grandmother gave you a heap of pretty things, as usual,"
said Elizabeth, anxious to change the subject.
"O yes, a good many," carelessly replied Maudie. "How do you like this
diamond ring? She gave me this on my birthday."
She held out her hand, which was adorned with several rings, one of them
a small but showily set diamond.
Elizabeth and Ruth viewed the jewel with admiring amazement. Neither
one of them had ever seen a diamond before, and to their untutored eyes
it represented splendor indeed.
"Try it on," said Maudie affably, pleased with their exclamations of
delighted wonder. It was much too large for Elizabeth's slender finger,
but it fitted Ruth's plumper one pretty well.
Maudie replaced the ring on her own finger, and lifted out the tray of
her trunk. "What are you girls going to wear to-night?" she asked
carelessly.
"I'm not going to stay, but Ruth will wear her white dress," said
Elizabeth. Somehow Ruth felt as if she couldn't speak of her poor
little frock among all Maudie's radiant treasures.
"Oh," Maudie's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Let me show you what I'm going
to wear." And she unfolded and shook out the shimmering breadths of a
pale blue summer silk, lavishly trimmed with lace and ribbon.
"O-o-o!" breathed Ruth, rapturously, "I never saw such a perfectly
beautiful dress, Maudie!"
And Elizabeth echoed, warmly, "A beautiful dress--and just the color I'd
like, if I ever had a party dress."
"It is rather pretty, I think," acknowledged Maudie, with the air of a
person to whom silks are a matter of course. She took out more dresses,
dazzling the eyes of her country cousins with the sight of so much
magnificence, and making poor Ruth feel very shabby indeed.