A NEW ORDER OF THINGS
That Sunday afternoon of October first, 19-- was vital with portent for
the future of most of the people in this little story.
It took but a short time to run out to Severndale, and once there Neil
Stewart made sure of a free hour or two by ordering up the horses and
sending the young people off for a gallop "over the hills and far away."
Shashai, Silver Star, Pepper and Salt for Peggy, Polly, Durand and
Ralph, who were all experienced riders, and four other horses for
Douglas, Gordon, Jean and Bert, of whose prowess he knew little. He need
not have worried, however, for Bert Taylor came straight from a South
Dakota ranch, Gordon Powers had ridden since early childhood and Douglas
Porter had left behind him in his Southern home two hunters which had
been the joy of his life. But Jean Paul Nicholas, Ralph's little
pepper-pot of a room-mate, had never ridden a horse in his life, and the
running he would come in for at the hands of his fellow midshipmen if
they suspected that fact might have made almost any other lad hesitate
before taking his initial spin in the company of experts. Not so little
Jean Paul with his broad shoulders, the brace of an Admiral and his
five-feet-six-inches; a veritable little bantam-cock, and game to the
finish.
As the happy cavalcade set off, waving merry farewells to the older
people gathered upon the piazza, Tzaritza bounding on ahead, their route
led them past the paddock where Shelby and old Jess, with several others
connected with the estate, stood watching them. Shelby as an old hand
and privileged character, took off his hat and waved it hilariously, as
he called out:
"Well _that_ is one sight worth while, Miss Peggy. We've got our _own_
girl back again, praises be!" while old Jess echoed his enthusiasm by
shouting:
"Praise de Lawd we _has_, an' we got de boss yander, too!"
"Sure thing, Shelby!" answered Durand.
"He's all right, Shelby!" cried Ralph.
"Nicest Daddy-Neil in the world," was Polly's merry reply, then added,
"Oh, Peggy, look at Roy! He's crazy to come with us," for Roy, the
little colt Peggy had raised, was now a splendid young creature though
still too young to put under the saddle.
Peggy looked toward the paddock where Roy was running to and fro in the
most excited manner and neighing loudly to his friends.
"Let him come, Shelby, please," she called, and the foreman opened the
gate. Roy darted through like a flash, giving way to all manner of mad
antics, rushing from one four-footed companion to another, with a
playful nip at one, a wild Highland-fling-of-a-kick at another, a
regular rowdy whinny at another, until he had the whole group infected,
but funniest of all, Jean Paul's mount, the staid, well-conducted old
Robin Adair, whose whole fifteen years upon the estate had been one long
testimony to exemplary behavior, promptly set about demonstrating that
when the usually well-ordered being does "cut loose" he "cuts loose for
fair."
Jean Paul was essentially a sailor-laddie, the direct descendant of many
sailor-laddies, and he was "built upon nautical lines," so said Ralph.
On the summer cruise just ended he had demonstrated his claim to be
classed among his sire's confrères, for let the ship pitch and toss as
it would, his legs never failed him, his stomach never rebelled and his
head remained as steady and clear as the ship's guiding planet.
But he found navigating upon land about as difficult as a duck usually
finds it, and was about as well qualified to bestride and ride a horse
as that waddling bird is. Consequently, he had "heaved aboard" his
mount with many well concealed misgivings, but up to the present moment
none of his friends had even suspected his very limited experience as a
horseman, but truth to tell, never before in his life had Jean Paul's
legs crossed anything livelier than one of the gymnasium "side horses."
Now, however, the cat was about to escape from the bag, for Robin Adair,
flinging decorum and heels behind him, set forth on a mad gallop to
overhaul Roy, who had elected to set the pace for the others. Whinnying,
prancing, cavorting, away Roy tore in the lead, Robin Adair hot-foot
upon him, Jean Paul striving manfully to keep his pitching seat, which
he felt to out-pitch any deck ever designed by man. In about two minutes
the pair were a hundred yards in the lead, Jean's cap had sailed airily
from his head, and after flaunting into Silver Star's face, had roosted
upon a near-by shrub. Jean himself promptly decided that reins were a
delusion and a snare (Robin's mouth _was_ hard) and let them go to grasp
the pommel of his Mexican saddle. But even that failed to steady him in
that outrageous saddle, nor were stirrups the least use in the world;
his feet were designed to stick to a pitching deck, not those senseless
things. In a trice both were "sailing free" and--so was Jean. As Robin's
hind legs flew up Jean pitched forward to bestride the horse's neck; as
he bounded forward Jean rose in the air to resume his seat where a
horse's crupper usually rests.
Oh it was one electrifying performance and not a single move of it was
lost upon his audience which promptly gave way to hoots and yells of
diabolical glee, at least the masculine portion of it did, while Polly
and Peggy, though almost reduced to hysterics at the absurd spectacle,
implored them to "stop yelling like Comanches and _do_ something."
"_Aren't_ we doing something? Aren't we encouraging him and helping on a
good show?" "Oh, get onto that hike!" "Gee whiz, Commodore, if you jibe
over like that you'll go by the board." "Put your tiller hard a-port."
"Haul in on your jib-sheet," "Lash yourself to the main-mast or you'll
drop off astern," were some of the encouraging words of advice which
rattled about Jean's assailed ears, as the space grew momentarily wider
between him and his friends, those same friends wilfully holding in
their mounts to revel in "the show."
But Jean's patience and endurance were both failing. He could have slain
Robin Adair, and he was confident that his spine would presently shoot
through the crown of his head. So flinging pride to the four winds, he
shouted:
"Hi, come on here one of you yelling chumps, this craft's
steering-gear's out of commission! Overhaul her and take her in tow. I'd
rather pay a million salvage than navigate her another cable's length."
"'Don't give up the ship!'" "'Never say die!'" "Belay, man, belay!" were
the words hurled back until Peggy crying:
"You boys are the very limit!" pressed one knee against Shashai's side
and said softly: "Four Bells, Shashai."
Robin Adair was no match for Shashai. Robin was as good a hackney as
rider ever bestrode, but Shashai was a thoroughbred hunter with an Arab
strain. Ten mighty bounds took him to Robin's head and for Peggy to
swing far out of her saddle, grasp the dangling reins, speak the word of
command which all her horses knew, loved and obeyed, took less time than
it has taken to write of it.
"One Bell, Shashai. Robin, halt! Steady!" and Jean Paul's mount came to
a standstill with Jean Paul sitting upon its haunches, and Jean Paul's
eyes snapping, and Jean Paul's teeth biting his tongue to keep from
uttering words "unbecoming an officer and a gentleman;" for "being
overhauled by a girl" after he had "made a confounded fool of himself
trying a land-lubber's stunt" was not a rôle which seemed in any degree
an edifying one to him.
To her credit be it said, Peggy managed to keep a straight face as she
turned to look at her disgruntled guest, which was more than could be
said of his companions who came crowding upon him, even Polly's
self-control being taxed beyond the limit.
"Why didn't you tell me you'd never ridden?" asked Peggy, her lips sober
but her eyes dancing.
"Because it would have knocked the whole show on the head," answered
Jean, yanking himself forward into the saddle which only a moment before
had seemed to be in forty places at once.
"So you decided to be the whole show yourself instead! You're a dead
game sport, Commodore. Bully for you!" cried Durand, slipping from his
mount to examine the "rigging of the Commodore's craft."
"Do you want to try it again?" asked Polly.
"Will a fish swim?" answered Jean. "Do you think I'm going to let this
side-wheeler shipwreck me? Not on your life, Captain. Clear out, the
whole bunch of you chumps. If I've got to cross the equator I'll have
the escort of ladies, not a bunch of rough-necks. Beat it! You let a
_girl_ overhaul and slow down this cruiser and now you're all ready to
come in for a share of the salvage. Get out! Clear out! Beat it! Take
'em away, Captain, and leave me the Admiral. She can give everyone of
you the lead by a mile and then overhaul you on the first tack. Get out,
for I'm going to take a riding lesson and I'm going to pay extra and
have a private one."
"Yes, do go on ahead, and, Polly, call Roy. He is responsible for
Robin's capers but he will behave if you take him in charge."
"Come on, Roy--and all other incorrigibles," laughed Polly, unsnapping
her second rein and slipping it around Roy's silky neck. Roy loved and
obeyed Polly almost as readily as Peggy, and cavorted off beside her as
gay as a grig.
"We'll report heavy weather and a disabled ship, messmate," called
Ralph.
"Report and hanged. You'll see us enter port all skee and ship-shape, and
don't you fool yourself, my cock sure wife (Bancroft Hall slang for a
room-mate), so so-long. Now come on, Peggy, and put me wise to
navigating this craft, for it has me beat to a standstill."
"Go on, people; we'll follow presently and when we overhaul you you'll
be treated to a demonstration of expert horsemanship," called Peggy
after the laughing, joking group, her own and Jean's laughs merriest of
all.
"Now get busy in earnest," she said to the half-piqued lad, whose face
wore an expression of "do or die" as he again mounted his steed.
"You can just bet your last nickel I'm going to! Great Scott, do you
think I'm going to let _this_ beat me out, or that yelling mob out
yonder see me put out of commission? Now fire away. Show me how to keep
my legs clamped and to sit in the saddle instead of on this beast's left
ear."
As Peggy was a skilled teacher and Jean an apt pupil the combination
worked to perfection, and when in a half-hour's time they joined the
main body of the cavalcade, Jean had at least learned where a saddle
rests and had trained his legs to "clamp" successfully.
Meanwhile, back on Severndale's broad piazza Peggy was the subject of a
livelier discussion than she would have believed possible, and the
upshot of it was a decision which carried Neil Stewart, Mrs. Harold,
herself, and Polly off to Washington early the following morning to
visit a school of which Mrs. Harold knew. Mrs. Stewart was very
courteously asked to accompany the party of four, which was to spend
three or four days in the Capital, but Mrs. Stewart was distinctly
chagrined at her failure to carry successfully to a finish the scheme
which she felt she had so carefully thought out. Alas, she could not
understand that she sorely lacked the most essential qualities for its
success--unselfishness, disinterestedness, the finer feeling of the
older woman for the younger, and all that goes to make womanhood and
maternal instinct what they should be. She felt that her reign at
Severndale was ended and nothing remained but to make as graceful a
retreat as possible. So she declined the invitation, stating that she
was very anxious to visit some friends in Baltimore and would take this
opportunity to do so, going by a later train.
Neil Stewart did not press his invitation. He wanted Mrs. Harold and the
girls to himself for a time and knowing that it would be his last
opportunity to see them for many months, resolved to make the most of
it. Not by word or act had he expressed disapproval of Mrs. Stewart's
rather extraordinary line of conduct since her arrival at Severndale,
though evidences of it were to be seen at every turn, and both
Harrison's and Mammy's tongues were fairly quivering to describe in
detail the experiences of the past month.
Harrison was wise enough not to criticise, but she lost no opportunity
for asking if she were to carry out this, that, or some other order of
Mrs. Stewart's, until poor Neil lost his temper and finally rumbled
out:
"Look here, Martha Harrison, how long have you been at Severndale?"
"Nigh on to twenty years, sir, and full fifteen years with that blessed
child's mother before she ever heard tell of this place. I took care of
her, as right well you know, long before she was as old as Miss Peggy."
"And have I ever ordered any changes made in her rules?"
"None to my knowledge, sir. They was pretty sensible ones and there
didn't seem any reason to change them."
"Well, you're pretty long-headed, and until you _do_ see reason to
change 'em let 'em stand and quit pestering _me_. You're the Exec. on
this ship until I see fit to appoint a new one and when I think of doing
that I'll give you due notice."
But Mammy would have exploded had she not expressed her views. Harrison
had chosen the moment when Captain Stewart had gone to his room just
before supper that eventful Sunday evening, but Mammy spoke when she
carried up to him the little jug of mulled cider for which Severndale
was famous and which, when cider was to be had, she had never failed to
carry to "her boy," as Neil Stewart, in spite of his forty-six years,
still seemed to old Mammy.
Tapping at the door of his sitting-room, she entered at his "Come in."
She found him standing before a large silver-framed photograph of
Peggy's mother. It had been taken shortly before her death and when such
a tragic ending to their ideal life had least been dreamed possible. A
fancy-dress ball had been given by the young officers stationed at the
Academy and Mrs. Stewart had attended it gowned as "Marie Stuart,"
wearing a superb black velvet gown and the widely-known "Marie Stuart
coif and ruff" of exquisite Point de Venice lace. She had never looked
lovelier, or more stately in her life, and that night Neil Stewart was
the proudest man on the ballroom floor. Then he had insisted upon a
famous Washington photographer taking this beautiful picture and--well,
it was the last ever taken of the wife he adored, for within another
month she had dropped asleep forever.
Good old Mammy's eyes were very tender as she looked at her boy, and
instead of saying what she had come to say: "ter jist nachelly an'
pintedly 'spress her min'," she went close to his side and looking at
the lovely face smiling at her, said:
"Dar weren't never, an' dar ain' never gwine ter be no sich lady as dat
a-one, Massa Neil, lessen it gwine be Miss Peggy. She favor her ma mo'
an' mo' every day she livin', an' I wisht ter Gawd her ma was right
hyer dis minit fer ter _see_ it, dat I do."
"Amen! Mammy," was Captain Stewart's reply. "Peggy needs more than we
can give her just now, no matter how hard we try. The trouble is she
seems to have grown up all in a minute apparently while we have been
thinking she was a child."
Neil Stewart placed the photograph back upon the top of the bookshelf
and sighed.
"No, sir, _dat_ ain't it. Deed tain't. She been a-growin' up dis long
time, but we's been dozin' like, an' ain't had our eyes open wide
'nough. An' now we's all got shook wide awake by _somebody else_."
Mammy paused significantly. Neil Stewart frowned.
"Just as well maybe. But don't light into me. I'm all frazzled out now.
Harrison's hints are like eight inch shells; Dr. Llewellyn's like a
highly charged electric battery; Jerome fires a blunderbuss every ten
minutes and even Shelby and Jess use pop-guns. Good Lord, are you going
to let drive with a gatling? Clear out and let me drink my cider in
peace, and quit stewing, for I tell you right now the fire-brand which
has kept the kettles boiling is going to be removed."
"Praise de Lawd fo' _dat_ blessin' den. It was jist gwine ter make some
of dem pots bile over if it had a-kep' on, yo' hyer me? Good-night,
Massa Neil, drink yo' cider an' thank de Lawd fo' yo' mercies."
"Good-night, Mammy. You're all right even if I do feel like smacking
your head off once in a while. Used to do it when I was a kid, you know,
and can't drop the habit."
The following morning the party of four set off for Washington, Polly
sorely divided in her mind regarding her own wishes. To have Peggy
elsewhere than at Severndale was a possibility which had never entered
into her calculations. How would it seem to have no Severndale to run
out to? No Peggy to pop into Middie's Haven? No boon companion to ride,
walk, drive, skate with, or lead the old life which they had both so
loved? Polly did some serious thinking on the way to the big city, and
wore such a sober face as they drew near the end of their journey that
Captain Stewart asked, as he tweaked a stray lock which had escaped
bonds:
"What's going on inside this red pate? You look as solemn as an
ostracized owl."
"I'm trying to think how it is going to seem without Peggy this winter
and I don't like the picture even a little bit," and Polly wagged the
"red pate" dubiously.
"Better make up your mind to come along with your running-mate. By Jove,
that's a brain throb, Peggy! How about it? Can't you persuade this girl
of ours to give up the co-ed plan back yonder in Annapolis,--she knows
all the seamanship and nav. that's good for her already,--and you'll
need a room-mate up here at Columbia Heights School if we settle upon
it," and Captain Stewart looked at Polly half longingly, half teasingly.
Polly had grown very dear to the bluff, sincere man during her
companionship with Peggy, and had crept into a corner of his heart he
had never felt it possible for anyone but Peggy herself to fill.
Somehow, latterly when thinking and planning for Peggy's well-being or
pleasure, visions of Polly's tawny head invariably rose before him, and
Polly's happy, sunny face was always beside the one he loved best of
all. The two young girls had become inseparable in his thoughts as well
as in reality.
"Oh, Polly, will you? Will you?" begged Peggy, instantly fired with the
wildest desire to have Polly enter the school which it had been decided
she should enter if at closer inspection it proved to be all the
catalogues, letters and dozens of pamphlets sent to Mrs. Harold
represented it to be.
"If I go to the Columbia Heights School what will Ralph say? And all
the others, too? They'll say I've backed down on my co-ed plan and will
run me half to death. Besides, Ralph needs me right there to let him
know I'm keeping a lookout."
"He doesn't need you half as much as this girl of mine needs you. You
just let Ralph do a little navigating for himself and learn that it's up
to him to make good on his own account. He's man enough to; all he needs
now is to find it out. Will you let him do so by coming down here with
Peggy?"