UPS AND DOWNS
The days that followed were crammed full of both business and pleasure.
Dorothy rose each morning, buoyant with eager hope that all would go
well, and went to bed each night, rejoicing in the fact that in the main
it had done so.
There was plenty of work to do; but it was cheerfully done, and many
hands made it light, and comparatively easy. There were many small
worries and anxieties, but they were overcome by perseverance and
determination.
The Dorrance pride was inherent in all four children, and having set
their hand to the plough, not only were they unwilling to turn back, but
they were determined to make the best possible furrow. Although Dorothy
was at the helm, and all important matters were referred to her, yet the
others had their appointed tasks and did them each day, promptly and
well.
Now that the Domain had assumed more of the character of a hotel, the
Dorrances saw less of their boarders, socially. Also the large
dining-room was used, and the guests seated in families at various
tables. This gave a far more hotel-like air to the house, and though
perhaps not quite as pleasant, it seemed to Dorothy the right thing to
do.
The Faulkners were ideal boarders; the Van Arsdales, though more
exacting, were just and considerate; but the Blacks, as Leicester
expressed it, were a caution.
Mrs. Black was a continual and never-pausing fusser. Mr. Black remained
two days to get them settled, and then returned to the city. Immediately
after his departure, Mrs. Black insisted on changing her room.
"I didn't want to bother my husband about it," she said to Dorothy, "for
he thinks I'm so fickle-minded; but truly, it isn't that. You see, the
sun gets around to this room at just half-past three, and that's the
time I'm always taking my nap, and so of course it wakes me up. Now you
see, I can't stand that,--when I came up here for rest and recuperation.
And so, my dear Miss Dorrance, if you don't mind, I'll just take some
other room. I'm sure you have plenty of them, and if that big, strong
Mr. Hickox will help move my things, I'm sure it will be no trouble at
all. Perhaps your sister Fairy will look after the children a little
bit, while Celestine and Lisa assist me. The baby is asleep, and perhaps
she won't waken, but if she does, would Miss Lilian mind holding her for
just a little while? or she might take her out in her baby-carriage for
a bit of a ride. I'm sorry to be troublesome, but you see for yourself,
I really can't help it."
If Mrs. Black really _was_ sorry to be troublesome, she must have been
sorry most of the time. For she was everlastingly making changes of some
sort, or desiring attention from somebody, and she quite imposed on the
good nature of the younger Dorrances, by begging them to take care of
her children upon all too frequent occasions. Once, even Leicester was
surprised to find himself wheeling Montmorency up and down the veranda,
while Mrs. Black finished a letter to go in the mail.
The Van Arsdale ladies also were under the calm, but imperious sway of
their fragile-looking niece. It was nothing unusual to see Miss Marcia
and Miss Amanda each holding one of the fretful children, and making
frantic endeavors to amuse their young relatives. The nurses were
competent, but Mrs. Black so often had errands for them that their young
charges were frequently in the care of other people.
Dorothy talked this matter over with Mrs. Faulkner, and as usual was
wisely counseled by that lady. She advised, that in so far as Lilian and
Fairy wished to play with the Black children, they should do so; but in
no way were they under obligation to assist Mrs. Black in the care of
her little ones. And, if she requested this at times when the girls had
duties to perform, or indeed at a time when they wished to take their
recreation, Mrs. Faulkner said they were perfectly justified in asking
Mrs. Black to excuse them.
Dorothy told this to her sisters, who were thereby much relieved; for
though fond of the children, they did not, as Lilian said, wish to be
pushing around those Black babies in perambulators from morning till
night. But somehow the babies caused a great deal of commotion, and
Dorothy began to understand why boarding-house keepers preferred grown
people.
One day as the Dorrance girls sat on the veranda, Celestine came running
to them, wringing her hands, after her French method of showing great
dismay, and exclaiming:
"Mees Sylvie,--she have fallen into ze lake!"
"What!" exclaimed the three girls at once, jumping up, and running
towards the lake; "where did she fall in? How did it happen?"
"Non, non,--not zat way! zis a-way," and Celestine started down a path
that did not lead towards the lake. "I have pull her out; she is not
drown,--but she is,--oh, so ver' soil,--so, vat you say,--muddy, oh, so
much muddy!"
"Never mind the mud if the child isn't drowned," cried Lilian; "but
this is not the way to the lake. You said she fell in the lake."
"Not ze gran' lake, mees, but ze small lake,--ze ver' small, p'tit
lake."
"Oh, she means nothing but a mud-puddle!" cried Fairy, who had run ahead
of the rest, and found Sylvia lying on the grass, chuckling with
laughter, while her pretty clothes were a mass of mud and wet.
"I falled in!" she cried, gleefully; "I failed in all myself, when
C'lestine wasn't looking. Ain't I a funny dirl?"
"No, I don't think it's funny," began Dorothy, and then she paused,
realizing that it was not her duty to reprimand Mrs. Black's children,
and, too, Sylvia certainly did look funny. Not only her white dress, but
her face and hands, and her dainty white slippers and stockings were
bespattered with brown mud, and Lilian said that she looked like a
chocolate eclair.
Another day, Celestine approached Dorothy with the pleasing news that,
"Master Montmorency, he must have upsetted the blanc-mange."
Dorothy flew to verify this statement, and found that the son of the
house of Black had indeed overturned a large dish of Bavarian cream,
which Kathleen had made for that evening's dessert. It had been set out
on the back porch to cool, and though protected by a wire screen cover,
the enterprising youth had succeeded in wrecking the whole affair.
Dorothy's record for good-nature was seriously menaced by this
mischievous prank, and she would probably have told Mrs. Black her
honest opinion of the transgressing infant; but Kathleen's view of the
case disarmed her.
"Whisht, now, darlint," said the big peace-maker, "niver you mind. I'll
whishk up another bowl full in a minute, shure. The shpalpeen didn't
mane anny harrum. Troth, he's nothin' but a baby. Wasn't ye wan yersilf
wanst? Go 'long wid ye, now, and lave me to me wurruk."
This Dorothy was glad enough to do, and she walked away, feeling that
Kathleen had taught her a lesson in making allowance for the
unconsciousness of a child's wrongdoing.
When she reached the west veranda she found the whole family and all
the guests gathered there in a great state of excitement.
Following Lilian's pointing finger with her eyes, she saw Mary, the
parrot, perched calmly on a high limb of an evergreen-tree.
"How did she get out?" cried Dorothy, aghast.
"Sylvia opened the cage door," answered Lilian, "when no one was
looking,--and Mary just walked out. You should have seen her climbing
that tree. She went up branch by branch."
The parrot looked triumphantly down at the crowd, and remarked, "Mary is
high up; Mary is very high up."
"Come down, Mary," said Dorothy, beseechingly; "come down, Mary,--pretty
Mary,--come down to Dorothy."
"Hurrah for Dorothy!" cried the parrot,--"hurrah for Sylvia! hurrah for
the Dorrance Domain!"
This last cheer had been taught to Mary by Leicester, after many long
and patient lessons, and never before had Mary spoken it so plainly and
distinctly.
By this time the Van Arsdale ladies were in tears; Fairy, too, was
weeping, for she felt sure Mary would fly away and never come back. The
Black children required very little encouragement to start their
lachrymal glands, and seeing the others' tears, immediately began to
howl in various keys.
"Don't cry, don't cry!" said Mary, from her high perch.
"Come down, Mary," said Dorothy, coaxingly, and showing an apple and a
cracker which she had procured; "come down and get your dinner."
But no urgings would induce the bird to come down. She cocked her eye
wickedly, and hurrahed for everybody in turn, but utterly refused to
descend.
"Ach, donnerblitzen!" exclaimed German Lisa. "Denn du bist ein dumkopf!
Kommst du jetz hinein!"
"Ciel! what a bird it is!" wailed Celestine, wringing her hands; "ah,
Marie, belle Marie, come down, cherie!"
But the French coaxing, and the German scolding had no more effect on
Mary than the weeping of the Van Arsdale ladies and the screaming of
the children. She fluttered her wings, and seemed about to depart. Then
she would look at them again, and with her exasperating winks, would
hurrah enthusiastically.
"If she'll only stay there long enough, perhaps I can lasso her," said
Leicester, running in the house for a string.
"No," said Mr. Faulkner, who followed him in, "I'm afraid that would
frighten her; but if you had a butterfly net, with a very long handle,
we might catch her with that."
"Just the thing," said Leicester; "and there is one in the storeroom; I
remember seeing it there."
He brought it, but the handle was not long enough; so Mr. Faulkner
proposed that they try placing a ladder against another tree near by,
and then from the top of that, endeavor to reach the bird with a net.
Mary watched the proceedings with great interest. "Catch Mary!" she
cried; "catch pretty Mary!"
"You bet we will!" cried Leicester, and when the ladder was adjusted he
climbed to the top of it, carrying the long-handled net with him.
They all thought the bird would be frightened at the net and fly away,
or at least attempt to do so.
But she seemed to think it a game in which she played an important part,
and she sat quietly on the branch, occasionally remarking, "Catch Mary,
pretty Mary!"
With a sure aim, Leicester pushed the net towards the bird and brought
it down over her head, then with a dextrous twist, he turned it upside
down, with the bird in it, and lowered it carefully to Mr. Faulkner, who
was standing below. At this unexpected indignity, Mary set up a
ferocious squawking, the Black children redoubled their yells, and the
Dorrance children cheered with delight.
Mary was taken from the net, unharmed, and restored to her happy
mistress, who determined to send to town at once for a padlock for the
cage door.
But though commotions such as these were of frequent, almost daily
occurrence; yet when they were not such as to interfere with the
routine of her household management, Dorothy did not allow them to worry
her.
Although usually busy all the morning, she found many spare hours for
rest and recreation in the afternoon; and the evenings were always
delightful. The Black children were then safely in bed, and could make
no trouble. The Dorrances were at liberty to be by themselves, or with
their boarders, as they wished.
As Mr. Faulkner played the guitar, and Leicester could pick a little on
the mandolin, and as they all could sing,--or fancied they could,--there
were often very jolly concerts on the veranda, or, on moonlight
evenings, out in the boat.
Mr. Black came up every week, and when he discovered the array of
musical talent already there, he brought his banjo, and added greatly to
the fun. Sometimes on rainy evenings, they would all congregate in the
great empty ballroom, and play merry games. On such occasions, the
Blacks and Faulkners seemed almost as young, and nearly as noisy as the
Dorrances.
One day Leicester came to Dorothy, with a letter.
"Jack Harris has just written me," he said, "and he wants to come up
here and board for a month; what do you think?"
"Let him come, by all means," said Dorothy, heartily; "he won't be a bit
of extra trouble, and if he will pay our regular rates I shall be glad
to have him. The Dorrance Domain is now a fully established summer
hotel; and we are prepared to receive all who apply."