GWEN TELLS A STORY
Of course, Gwen told Inez that she had been up to Sherwood Hall and that
she thought it very dull.
"I wouldn't care to have such a big, BIG house," she said, "'n I
wouldn't want such a big garden."
It was a silly speech to make, because it was not true, and no one could
believe it.
Her own house was fine, but no dwelling in the town could compare with
grand, stately Sherwood Hall, and Gwen Harcourt knew that.
"Polly wouldn't play anything, so I came home," she said.
"Why, that's odd," said Inez, "she's always willing to play games."
"Oh, well, she wanted to play 'Hide-and-Seek' and that's too stupid.
Let's play 'Tag' and see how hard we can run. You can make ever so much
noise if you stamp your feet when you run on the asphalt. Le' me count!"
Inez did not dare to object.
"Eena, mena, mina, moot,
Le'me catch you by the foot;
Fill your eyes and mouth with soot,
Pull a tree up by the root.
"Hit you with a speckled trout,
Pull your hair to make it sprout;
Though you grumble, also pout,
One, two, three, and you are out."
"There!" said Gwen, "now you're it, so we'll begin to play."
"Why, how can I be 'it' when you said I was 'out?'" questioned Inez.
"'Cause I SAY so, that's all," said Gwen, coolly, and Inez dared not say
a word. She knew if she did that Gwen would be provoked and would
probably go home.
She was a little tyrant and anyone who wish to play with her must do as
she said if she cared for peace.
"Run, now!" she cried. "Run! But you can't catch me!"
Truly, she was fleet footed.
Up the long driveway, around the house, past old Towser's kennel,
pausing just long enough to kick it in order that he might growl, up the
front steps and along the piazza, over its railing, across a bed of
choice flowering plants, breaking some, and crushing many, around the
summer house and through the grape arbor, shouting like a little wild
Indian, she ran, and Inez could not get near enough to touch her.
"You're slow!" cried Gwen, "slower than an old cow! You can't run like
anything, so we might as well sit down!"
In truth, she was tired but she would not say so. It pleased her far
better to find fault with Inez.
"When YOU get rested," she said, "we might climb up onto your barn and
crawl into the cupola."
"Ye'll not be doin' that, young lady," said the gardener, who, as he was
passing, had heard what she had said. "It's not safe, an' I know Mr.
Varney'd not allow it."
"Horrid old thing!" said Gwen. "Who do you mean?" Inez asked, sharply.
"The gardener, of course," snapped Gwen.
"I guess I'll go home," she said, a moment later, and although Inez
coaxed her, she would not remain nor would she say why she had decided
to go.
Whenever she wearied of a place she left it, refusing to remain or
explain why she would not stay. Inez looked after the little flying
figure.
"I hate to have her go, but I couldn't run every minute," she said.
One sunny afternoon, Lena and Rob, Leslie and Harry were sitting on the
lawn, listening to Polly's story of floating in a little boat out to the
open sea. Of how she and Rose did not dream how naughty the boy, Donald,
had been until they were so far out that they could hardly see the
beach.
The boys thought it very exciting, and this was not the first time that
they had heard it. Indeed, they had often asked her to tell it, and each
time they had found it as interesting as when they first had listened to
it.
"Now tell us about the first moment that you saw the Dolphin," said Rob.
Gwen Harcourt, seeing the group on the lawn, wondered what they were
talking about.
There was but one way to find out, and she chose to take it. She ran up
the path that led to where the little group was sitting and dropped on
the grass beside Harry Grafton.
She listened to the story, but she did not think it at all amusing.
Anyone who knew Gwen would know that it could not interest her. She
cared for no story of which she was not the heroine.
When the tale was finished and the playmates were telling Polly how fine
a story it was, Gwen, speaking very loudly, made herself heard; she
usually did.
"Everybody listen while I tell a story that'll scare you 'till you most
can't breathe. It's a true story, too!"
"Go ahead, Gwen," said Rob.
"Yes, tell it!" said Harry. "I don't mind being scared if you can do
it!"
She needed no urging.
"One time when I was little---" she commenced, but Harry interrupted.
"When was that?" he asked.
"Stop, Harry!" whispered Leslie.
"One time, when I was LITTLER than I am now, I went into our parlor all
alone when it was almost dark, and looked at the pictures. Mama has ever
so many, and some of them are landscapes and some of them are portraits.
"The one I liked to look at scared me every time I saw it. It was a big,
tall lady dressed in yellow and she had a feather fan.
"When I saw her in the bright daylight I thought she moved SOME, but
whenever I looked at her when it was almost dark she seemed to move
MORE!"
Gwen paused to see if the other children were impressed, and looked up
just in time to see Rob Lindsey "nudge" his sister. Her eyes flashed.
"Well, p'raps you don't believe it, Rob Lindsey, but I SAW it, and I
guess I know!" she said.
"Go on, Gwen," said Rob, who was a great tease, "I only touched Lena's
arm to let her know the 'scare' part of the yarn was coming."
Thus reassured, Gwen continued her story.
"Well, this time I'm telling 'bout, the lady in the yellow gown looked
at me, and--WAVED her fan!"
"Hot day?" questioned Rob, but Gwen chose not to notice what he said.
"She waved her big feather fan slower and slower, and then--she walked
RIGHT OUT OF THE PICTURE and came down on the floor!"
"Oh--o!" said Princess Polly, and "Oh--oo--oo!" said Lena, but Rob asked
a question.
"Did your fine lady come down on the floor in a heap?"
"Did she BUST her feather fan?" questioned Harry Grafton.
"You're not nice to laugh when I'm telling a story," said Gwen, "and I
guess you wouldn't have laughed if you'd BEEN there!"
"Why, what happened?" Lena asked, partly because she was curious and
partly to be kind.
"I'll never know just what did truly happen, because just as she came
toward me, I was so scared I fainted, and when I came to, the lady had
vanished, but the big hole in the canvas showed JUST WHERE SHE'D STOOD!"
"Why Gwen Harcourt! You know that story's a fib story all the way
through!" said Harry.
"'Tis NOT!" said Gwen, "and I guess I know!"
She sprang from the grass, and ran down the driveway.
"I guess when you see the big frame, and the picture with a big hole in
it just the shape of the lady, that showed where she WAS, I guess you'll
HAVE to b'lieve it," she said, and having said this to the boys that had
teased her, she hurried down the avenue.
"Oh, what an awful story!" said Polly, "it made me feel like shivering,
and I was glad the boys were with us."
"If Gwen Harcourt likes to tell such stories, she can," said Leslie,
"but she needn't say they're true."
"Oh, but perhaps SOME of it---" Polly stopped. She had meant to speak
kindly, but what part of so silly a story could be true?
"You've been in her parlor, Leslie," said Harry, "did YOU see the
picture with the big hole in it, just where the fine lady stepped out
from the frame? Leslie, HAVE you?"
"Yes," admitted Leslie, "I've been there."
"WAS the big picture with the big hole in it hanging there?" he asked.
"N--NO!" said Leslie, "and I'll tell you all something. A lady that mama
knows heard some of Gwen's stories, and she told Mrs. Harcourt what
perfectly awful things Gwen was telling, and Mrs. Harcourt said that she
was very glad, and thankful that Gwen had such great imagination, and
said she wouldn't, for the world do anything to check it, because it's a
SURE sign she'll be something fine some day.
"Mrs. Harcourt said it was just wonderful what a strong imagination Gwen
had, and she said she thought she would be either an author, or a play
writer, or something great."
"And papa, when he heard that, said he'd want to be careful lest she
grow up to be an awful liar!" said Harry.
"Oh, hush!" said Leslie, "papa said falsifier or some name like that."
"Well, that's the same thing," said Harry.
The little friends talked of Gwen, and the stories that she told.
The boys thought them ridiculous, and laughed at the idea that she
expected her playmates to believe them, but neither Polly, Lena, nor
Leslie could see it that way.
"I wouldn't mind the stories," Polly said, "because anyone can make up
stories just for fun, but I do hate to have her say they're TRUE."
"And she sticks to it," said Harry.
"That's it," said Lena, "she says they're true, and she dared us to come
down to her house, and see the picture!"
Gwen was safe in daring them, for not one of the little friends liked
her well enough to go to her home, none save Inez, and Inez had not
heard the story about the picture.
One sunny morning Polly ran along the avenue to overtake Lena Lindsey.
"Lena! Lena!" she cried, "wait for me! I've a letter from Rose," she
said, as she walked along with Lena.
"Which way are you going?" Lena asked, "I want to hear what she says."
"I wasn't going anywhere 'til I saw you," said Polly.
"Then come along the path through the grove," said Lena, "and we'll stop
on the bridge, and enjoy the letter there."
They ran along the path together, the sunbeams making Jack-o-lanterns at
their feet. Light branches swayed in the wind, and through the dancing
leaves the sunlight sifted, making Lena's hair a brighter brown, and
Polly's flaxen ringlets like pale gold.
They reached the little bridge, and paused to watch the clear, rippling
brook, as it ran beneath it, and out through the tiny grove.
Humming a melody all its own, it made its zigzag way between birches,
and alders, maples, and elderblow, carrying on its shining surface stray
leaves, and water spiders that struggled to see which first should reach
the sunlit meadow land beyond.
"Now, read the letter," said Lena, "and does she say when she's coming
here?"
"Oh, you hark, while I read," said Polly, taking from its envelope, the
letter that she had, already, read three times.
Lena listened with delight. It would be an event to have little Rose
Atherton come to Avondale! She told of Uncle John's frequent visits, and
of long drives enjoyed with him.
"And here's something that made me laugh," said Polly.
"I told you about Evangeline Longfellow Jenks," she continued, "and
she's written some more verses, and Rose copied this one. Just listen
while I read it."
Polly took a slip of paper from the envelope, and read this absurd verse
that was written upon it:
[Illustration with caption: "Lena listened with delight."]
"I'm to be a poet when I get big,
And I'll write a book that's bigger'n me.
My poems I make now are to practice on,
But when I'm big they'll be fine to see."
"Does she think THAT'S poetry?" said Lena, laughing because the verse
was so absurd that she could not help it.
"If you think that one is funny, just listen to this," said Polly,
turning the slip over, and reading from the other side.
"The sea is wet, and so is the brook;
The earth swings round and round.
The cat's asleep, and so are my feet,
So I'll write no more till anon."
"Why, what DOES she mean?" said Lena, when she could stop laughing long
enough to ask.
"I don't know," said Polly, laughing as heartily as Lena did, "and the
funny thing is that Evangeline says anyone could write poetry that folks
understand. She says it's just TWICE as bright to make verses that
NOBODY could understand!
"I wouldn't want to have to play with her, and Rose says she runs away
whenever she sees Evangeline coming," said Polly.
"I should think she would run," said Lena, "I would."
After the sweet little letter had been read, and Lena had asked for a
second reading, Polly put it back into its envelope, and they talked of
what Rose had written.
"Only think," said Polly, "her Aunt Rose doesn't wish her to be away
from the house to go to school, so she's to have a private tutor at
home, a music teacher, and a dancing teacher, and they're all to
come to her house. She won't be in school with other little girls at
all."
"I wouldn't like that," said Lena, "we have fine times together when
school commences, and I don't believe I'd like teachers that came to my
house. Well, I don't mean I wouldn't like the teachers, but I think it's
more fun to go to school."
"I don't see how she's ever to get acquainted with other little girls,"
said Polly, "I think it sounds very lonesome!"
"So do I," said Lena, "but perhaps she doesn't. We'll know when she
comes to your house, because I'm most sure she'll tell us."
"And we'll go to school the third week of next month," said Polly, "and
Rose isn't to begin her lessons until two weeks later than that. She's
coming to stay with me and spend the two weeks. Oh, won't we have fun?"
"Fun?" said Lena, "we'll do every fine thing we can think of. I'll tell
Rob, and he'll help us make it jolly. He always does, and he likes Rose
as well as we do."
"And who's Lester Jenks?" Lena asked, "is he the poetry girl's brother?"
"Oh, no, he's her cousin, and he's full of fun, and fine to play with,"
said Polly, "and he thinks Evangeline is pokey, and he laughs at her
poetry. I didn't laugh at it, and I don't think he was nice to. I told
him so, and he only laughed harder."
"He told Rose to tell me that he's going to send me a Valentine this
year, and he says he's found a new place to get ice cream just a little
way from where Rose lives. He says when I'm at her house the next time,
he'll buy ice cream almost every day."
"Isn't he generous? And he says: 'Tell Princess Polly to hurry up and
come,' and Rose says she can hardly wait 'til she sees me."
"Oh, Polly!" cried Lena, as a happy thought occurred to her, "if she's
to be here when school has commenced, you can bring her to school.
Teacher'll let us have guests.
"I'm glad you read the letter to me, because it makes it seem as if Rose
was right here."
"And almost before you know it, she WILL be!" cried Polly, with a gay
little laugh.
"I'll have to run along now," said Lena, "because Rob gave me this note
to take to Harry Grafton, and I said I'd rush over there to give it to
him. I forgot all about it when I stopped to hear Rose's letter. I guess
I'd have stopped just the same, if I'd remembered Rob's note!" she said,
and her brown eyes twinkled, as she looked over her shoulder on her way
down the path.