_Cottage on the Curve_
_By_
MARY LAMERS
_Sketches by
the Author_
[Illustration]
The Bruce Publishing Company
Milwaukee
(Second Printing--1947)
Copyright, 1945
By Mary Lamers
Printed in the U. S. A.
To the memory
of my mother
BESSIE MURRAY McGUIRE
_Foreword_
This story was written in time of war, in the memory of peace.
Once upon a time there were happy times like these. There were trips
and steaks and tennis balls, and even double-decker ice-cream cones.
But the children who played on the shores of Oak Lake have sailed away.
In jungle heat they remember her cool depths. In the hot blare of
battle they remember the quiet just as the moon rose over the tamarack
swamp.
Come back, long-legged little boys! Come back to the summer days we
used to know.
M. M. L.
Summer, 1945.
_Contents_
PAGE
Foreword 7
CHAPTER
1. The Last Day of School 11
2. Who Peppered the Cake 26
3. The Purse in the Trash Pile 38
4. The Turtle Who Towed the Boat 51
5. Grandma Always Brought Presents 63
6. Buick the Detective 74
7. A Trip to Deerpath 94
8. The Fourth Was Full of Fun 104
9. Billy Battles the Storm 116
10. Janie Earns a Dollar 136
11. The Front Seat on the Bus 150
12. The Bear Who Loved Apple Pie 168
13. An Honest Reward 183
14. Dad Finds a Treasure 193
15. Good-by Summer 212
_Chapter One_
_The Last Day of School_
[Illustration]
Jane Murray walked slowly down the wide corridor. It was the last day
of school. Her desk was empty. For the first time since last September
her locker stood neat and bare. Gone were the old gym socks, the
forgotten rainhat that had been wedged under an old theme cover, the
candy bar wrappers, and the umbrella with the split seam.
Patsy and Dor had reached the street ahead of her and were screaming at
the top of their lungs.
“Janie, oh, Janie! Hurry! We’re going to have an ice-cream cone.”
Janie shook her head regretfully. “Run along with the others, my funny
friends. I must go home and put a fresh dressing on Butchie’s paw.”
They were off like race horses. “Perhaps I should have gone,” she
thought. The back of her neck was just a little damp under the light
brown curly mop. A cone or a swim. Oh boy! I could do with a swim right
now, and with her head full of summer dreams she started off down the
maple-shaded street.
Springhill was a lovely old town in southern Wisconsin. The houses were
set well back from the street. They were large and old-fashioned, with
screened porches. Some of them had turrets running up to the third
floor level. Janie had read of a famous architect who disapproved of
such decorations. “Inverted rutabagas,” he called them, but Janie
didn’t care. The turret on the Murray house was enchanted land. From
its circular windows they could see all over town, and down the valley
to the river. Once they found a gray squirrel’s nest up there, and on
rainy days there was the parallel bar for doing stunts.
“Inverted rutabaga, my eye,” said Janie.
“What’s a rutabaga, Janie,” said a small voice at her elbow. She jumped.
“Oh, Robin, it’s you. I must have been talking to myself. It’s old age
creeping on.”
“How old are you, Janie,” the small voice persisted.
“I’m thirteen.” She picked up the afternoon paper with one hand,
ruffled Robin’s hair with the other, and ran up her own front steps.
“Mom, oh Mom,” she called as the screen door slammed behind her.
“School’s out, and I’m not even happy about it. Oh Mom, may I make some
lemonade?”
Mrs. Murray called from upstairs, “Yes dear, make some for the boys
while you’re at it, and don’t spill any sugar on the floor.”
The sugar, lemons, and ice cubes were assembled, but before Jane could
finish there was an excited chirping, hopping, and rattling on the back
porch.
“Oh Butch, you darling monkey! I almost forgot to fix that bandage.”
She gathered the little furry fellow up in her arms. He was the adored
pet of the youngest of Jane’s brothers, Davey.
Janie could never forget that windy fall night two years ago when
they first saw Butch. Daddy had been working on the case of an organ
grinder who became involved in difficulties with the immigration
authorities. All pleas failed and Mr. Calento made plans to return to
his native Italy, but he couldn’t take his monkey with him. Monkeys
catch pneumonia easily, and an Atlantic voyage in the stormy month of
October would have been dangerous to his health. With tears in his eyes
Mr. Calento presented his pet to Daddy as part payment of his fee.
What an uproar that was! Of course the children were enchanted, but Mom
was aghast.
“A monkey,” she cried. “My goodness, Jim Murray, are you a lawyer or a
zoo-keeper? Supposing your next client owns an elephant?”
Daddy laughed and patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry dear,” he said. “If
you don’t want him we’ll take him down to the zoo in the morning.”
“The zoo?” wailed Davey. “Please don’t take him to the zoo.”
Mom was firm. “His place is in the zoo,” she said.
He would have been banished the very next day except that a quarantine
had been placed on the zoo because of the illness of some of the larger
animals, and no new animals were being admitted. One day led to the
next and Butchie stayed on. Mom had to take care of him during the day
when the children were at school, and she grew to love him so that by
the time the quarantine was lifted the Murrays had a monkey, and that
was that.
Jane sat him on the porch sewing table, and ran in to heat the boric
solution. He waited patiently, and extended his little paw in perfect
trust. “Oh, what a good monkey you can be,” murmured Janie as she
fastened the fresh bandage. “You could save yourself a lot of trouble,
Butch, by keeping your paws off the screen door when the Murrays come
thundering home.”
“Eeek Eeek,” chattered Butch, and his little nurse replied gravely,
“You’re welcome.”
Mom came down the stairway just as Janie finished.
“Where’s all the lemonade I’ve been hearing about?” she asked.
“In a minute, Mom. I’ve been fixing Butchie’s paw.”
They sat at the kitchen table and took a long drink of the delicious
cold lemonade before either spoke.
“What’s this about your not being happy, my child,” said Mom with a
teasing glint in her eye.
Janie put her glass down, and rested her cheek on one hand. “Mom,”
she replied, “I know you’re right about us staying home with Daddy
this summer. I know he has a big case coming up in court, and that if
you wouldn’t be here to take care of him he’d stay up half the night
working. He wouldn’t eat the way he’s supposed to, and everything would
go wrong. I know all these things, but on a warm day like this I just
can’t help wishing we could go to the lake like we always used to.”
“And what would you say, daughter,” said Mom in the same teasing tone
of voice. “What would you say if I told you that we could go to the
lake this summer just as we always used to?”
Jane’s eyes grew wide, “Oh Mom, tell me when. Can Daddy come too? Tell
me Mom. Oh, Mom, how wonderful!”
Mrs. Murray took a deep breath and laughingly pushed her delighted
daughter away. “What muscles,” she said.
“Mom, if you’re not serious, I’ll just die! I would so love to go to
the lake. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon. Blue skies, clear
water, little robins singing.” In her happiness Jane waltzed around the
kitchen, and Butch clapped his hands together happily from the back
porch.
Mrs. Murray laughed and rose to rinse out her lemonade glass. “I can’t
tell you any more about it now,” she continued, “but when your father
comes home and the boys are all gathered together, we’ll get the story.”
Janie knew her mother well enough to press her no further. Mom was
funny. She had her moods. Sometimes, in the morning when they were all
getting ready for school, she would whirl in and out among them dancing
to the ballet music of Daddy’s early morning radio program. In her
yellow sweater and faded blue denim skirt, with her hair done in short
pig-tails, she was very gay, a real pal. But there was nothing gay
about the look in her eye if she’d spy a C on your report card.
In the morning when Dad shaved he would sing at the top of his lungs
while he chopped away at his whiskers, and any one who came near him
was playfully anointed with his well-lathered brush. Daddy could be
gay too but all this spring he had been distracted and busy. He often
worked late at the office, and then he’d bring papers home and his
light would burn far into the night.
Janie remembered the night she couldn’t sleep and went down to the
kitchen for a glass of milk. There was a light in the library, and
Daddy sat with papers strewn all over, his hair rumpled, and lines on
his forehead making Venetian blinds of worry.
“Daddy! It’s almost one o’clock!”
He looked up in surprise. “Oh, hello there, puss. Why aren’t you
asleep?”
“I came down for a glass of milk. I stubbed my toe playing soft ball in
the gym, and it was hurting me a little. I woke up, and then I couldn’t
go back to sleep.”
“What were you intending to do with the glass of milk, drink it, or
bathe your injured toe?”
“Daddy! What a silly thing to say! Drink it, of course. Shall I pour
some for you?”
“Yes, by all means, but don’t make any noise. If your mother hears us
we’ll both be spanked for staying up past our bedtime.”
Janie brought two glasses of milk and sat down opposite her father at
the desk. “Daddy, I wish you wouldn’t work so hard. Mom worries about
you, too. Couldn’t you let that old case go if it’s such a bother?”
“Perhaps I could if I had no one depending on me, but I have a wife
and a dear family, and the man that this case concerns has a wife and
family that he loves just as much as I love mine. It’s my particular
responsibility to finish this job, even if I’d rather not.”
He arose and came around to where she was sitting. “Come, my
broken-toed beauty. It’s high time you were asleep.”
“Will you go to bed too?”
“Yes, I’ll go to bed too.”
* * * * *
For the most part, life in the house with the rutabaga top was happy
and serene. There were no shadows in the large old-fashioned kitchen
where Mom and Janie worked at preparing the evening meal. Crisp washed
lettuce was taken from the refrigerator and tossed in a big wooden
bowl. Noodle ring, with cheese and ham sauce, fresh string beans,
corn-meal muffins, and hidden somewhere and smelling heavenly was a
fresh-baked rhubarb pie.
“Yum, pie,” said Jane. “Is it because it’s the last day of school?”
“Yes,” said her mother, “a special celebration.”
“Did you say pie?” asked ten year old James, suddenly appearing at the
back door. Mom and Jane laughed for an answer, for there never was a
boy with an appetite like James. He was tall and slim and inclined to
be awkward. His clothes hung loosely on him. His hair, almost curly,
was completely unmanageable. He had a quick, hot temper, a generous
heart, and a lovely smile. As he stood there in the doorway, dirty and
warm from the baseball lot, he gave his mother one of those quick rare
smiles. He interrupted her unspoken greeting to say, “Yes Mom, I’ll
wash myself, and I’ll wash the back of my neck and my ears, and I won’t
throw my towel on the floor.”
Mom laughed and shook her head, and as Janie filled the water glasses
she mused, “Sometimes I think James is Mom’s favorite, and then again
perhaps it’s Bill. There’s so much pride in her eyes when she looks at
Bill. Of course, Davey is the youngest, and she pets him a lot. Perhaps
she loves him the best of all.” Quietly, Mom was there beside her
putting the salad on the sideboard, and she bent and kissed the busy
little waitress.
“Janie, you’re a good girl. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Lo and behold, there was that special, shining look. And this time it
was for me,” thought the suddenly glowing Jane. “Mom is funny. She must
like each one of us best of all.”
James was sent to fetch Davey who was playing next door with Robin.
Bill came next. “Sorry to be so long, Mom,” he said. “Pete and I were
swapping stamps, and I stopped at the playground on the way home to see
how the ball game came out. Lincoln school beat Hawthorne, 5 to 2.”
The last part of his sentence was muffled in a face towel. Bill was
almost twelve, and no longer had to be told about washing his face and
combing his hair, although he sometimes had to be reminded, ever so
tactfully, about his neck.
They waited for Daddy. Jane and Davey sat on the front steps where they
could see far down the street. She read the comic page aloud to him,
and her attention wandered.
“And then what, Janie? What happened next?” Janie pulled her thoughts
back to the funny strip, but she watched for Daddy out of one eye.
Would he never come? At last the familiar green car turned in at the
driveway, and the cry went up, “Daddy’s here! Daddy’s here!”
Mom had tried to teach the children that they should wait until Daddy
had his dinner and a look at the paper before they assailed him with
their problems. “Give him a chance to catch his breath,” she used to
say. “He has to listen to other people’s troubles all day, and by
evening he’s really very tired.”
He didn’t look tired at all when he came in. He wanted to know how
everyone had spent the day. He kissed Mom and rubbed flour on Janie’s
cheek. He picked up Davey and James at once to show how strong he was,
and he admired a boat that Bill was carving.
“Come to dinner,” called Mom, and they were all gathered around the
table in a minute. Davey said “Grace.” He still needed practice with
some of his prayers, and it gave him a feeling of importance to speak
to God personally in the name of the family. There was a brisk clatter
of knives and forks until they came to the dessert. By that time the
rush of the day was left behind, and the quiet of the June evening
seemed to find a place in the hearts of the lively Murray brood. Daddy
was blowing smoke rings to amuse Mom, and Janie had almost forgotten
that he had something up his sleeve, when he put out his cigarette
and announced: “I have a plan for going to Oak Lake in case anyone is
interested.”
It came as a complete surprise to the boys, and they all talked at
once. “Please, children, please,” begged Mom. “One at a time.” Daddy
continued: “The case I’ve been working on has been postponed until
fall, and your mother and I think that we’ll be able to go to the
cottage as usual.”
“What about you, Daddy? Will you be able to come with us?”
“I’ll come out for week-ends. I’ll have to stay in town during the
week.”
“What will we do about a car?” asked Billy. “You’ll need the car every
day in town, won’t you?”
“That’s true,” said his father, “but if Grandma and Aunt Claire come
out for the summer we can use their car. You’ll need a car for shopping
and for going to church on Sunday, although how you’ll all squeeze into
Aunt Claire’s car, I don’t know.”
“I’ll sit on Grandma’s lap,” said Davey. “I always used to, and I still
could.”
“I’ll hang on the rear tire,” said Bill darting a look at Mom who said
nothing, but her answering glance said as plain as day, “Oh no, you
won’t.”
They talked and talked, and then Daddy pushed back his chair. “Will you
youngsters please finish clearing off the table? There are some roses I
want your mother to see.”
James and Bill cleared the table while Janie washed the glasses and the
silverware. It was Davey’s job to dry the knives, forks, and spoons,
and put them away. He was a good-natured little boy and he sang while
he worked. If the song was lively he hurried in time with the music,
but if the melody was slow and dreamy, so were his actions. Janie
watched him dawdling through “Old Black Joe.”
“Try ‘Coming ’Round The Mountain’,” she advised, “or you’ll be here all
night.”
The boys clattered along at their own rate, stopping every so often to
argue or explain but in spite of it they finished and Jane stacked the
plates while the boys ran out into the back yard to play ball.
A curving, enclosed stairway ran from the kitchen to the second floor.
The oak treads were worn from the tired tread of maid-servants of
the past, but Janie’s limber young legs flew up to the second floor
two steps at a time, and then down the hall to her room. Pulling and
tugging, she managed to open the bottom drawer of the built-in dresser
way at the back of her clothes closet. There they were, her lake
clothes. She tried on some of them. They felt small and light after
wearing the heavy sweaters and woolen skirts during a Wisconsin spring.
She stretched out across her bed and listened to the gentle evening
sounds of Springhill. “This turned out to be a very nice day after
all,” she thought. “Tomorrow I must ask Mom about some new playsuits.
I’ll need some blue jeans for fishing down at the dam with the boys. I
wonder if that old pickerel is still there; this year I’ll surely catch
him.” Billy came pounding up the front stairs to his room looking for a
catching mitt, and she called,
“Billy, let’s go on an all day boat trip down the canal this summer and
really explore it.”
Flushed from play, Billy stood in the doorway between their rooms. He
was the oldest Murray boy, and the natural leader in all their games
and adventures. Almost as tall as Janie, he was so sturdily built, that
when ever they played circus he was always the strong man. He had blue
eyes and fat cheeks and pin-point freckles scattered like the milky way
across his upturned nose. James would spend hours with a book, but Bill
liked people and people liked Bill.
“No,” he said. “The last time we wanted to take an all day boat trip
down the canal Davey fell in head first and James got into a mess of
poison ivy. Mom said we couldn’t go again. I’d like to build a diving
helmet so that I could find treasures on the bottom of the lake, and
I’d like to have a hay ride for a birthday party.”
“Birthday party? But your birthday....”
“Yes, I know, my birthday is on Christmas eve, and every one is so
excited about Christmas that I never have a real party like other kids
do, so sometime I’m going to have a hay ride with a man to play the
concertina and cases and cases of pop.”
Jane laughed, but she looked at her brother affectionately. “When I’m
a millionaire,” she said, “I’ll take you for a hay ride every summer
night. Isn’t it funny,” she continued, “how we plan what we’re going
to do during the summer, and we never quite do what we plan? Usually
something much more exciting happens. I wonder what it will be this
year?”
_Chapter Two_
_Who Peppered the Cake_
[Illustration]
Janie lay in bed enjoying the grand feeling of the first day of
vacation. Doves circled in and out of the poplar hedge across the
street. It was still early. The rest of the family was asleep, but
lying in bed was a waste of time. Slipping into a playsuit, she tiptoed
down the back stairs and into the kitchen.
Butchie set up a delighted “chee--chee” at the sight of her, and she
crossed to the porch door and let him in. The organ-grinder man had
taught Butch to eat his meals sitting at a little table, and there he
was perched with a bib around his neck while Jane warmed his porridge.
He had some difficulty managing his spoon while he was eating, but
Janie encouraged him,
“Never you mind, Butch. All two-year olds spill a little. You’re doing
wonderfully well. Keep it up, Butchie, old boy.”
When the porridge dish was empty he had a mug of warmed milk. That
was easy. He grasped the mug firmly in his paws and drank the milk in
dainty little sips. As a special reward Janie gave him half a banana.
He was delighted. He talked monkey language while he ate, and now and
then he’d offer some to Janie, but she politely refused.
The rest of the family was awake by now, and she hurried to set the
table on the back porch for a surprise for Mom. It was a beautiful
morning. The garden was brilliant with iris, day-lilies, and oriental
poppies, and the tall old lilac trees were sweet with bloom.
After breakfast the boys sat on the front steps waiting for the
mailman. They were always sending out for approval sheets of stamps,
and they’d shade their eyes waiting for the mailman like sea captains
of old waiting for their ships to come in.
Janie was impatient. “Mom,” she said. “_When_ can we go to the lake?
Could we go out next week-end, or will we have to wait until the end of
June when Aunt Claire’s school is out?”
Mom raised her eyebrows and smiled a smug little smile. “That’s part
of the surprise,” she said. “We’re leaving today. I’ve been hoping we
could go, and I’ve been getting things ready for the past week.”
The rest of the day was a whirlwind of busy arms and legs and suitcases
and paper boxes.
“Now, let’s see,” said Mom with a list in her hand. “I mustn’t forget
anything. I must go to the drug store, the bank, and the postoffice,
and, oh yes, the library.”
Billy and James packed the trunk of the car. Sheets and towels were
stacked neatly in paper cartons. There were boxes of slacks, shirts,
and swimming trunks, pillows and quilts, and cotton bed spreads.
“I’ll bring my first-aid box,” said Bill, and that gave James an idea.
He came downstairs with his entire stamp collection piled like the
leaning Tower of Pisa in his arms.
Janie cocked her chin to one side and put her fists on her hips. “You
know that Mom won’t let you bring all that junk along.”
“Junk!” exclaimed James indignantly. “These are my duplicates. I’m
going to sort them out this summer.” He set the stack down carefully on
the back porch, and the top-most box toppled over and spilled countless
little bright-colored squares all over the floor. James scooped
them all up in a hurry, and tucked the boxes, books, and albums into
whatever space he could find in the rear of the car.
When Mom returned from her shopping they went down into the cool
basement and carefully packed what was left of the home-preserved
fruits and vegetables.
“Bring a lot of pickles,” said Davey. “Lots and lots of pickles.”
By the middle of the afternoon everything was ready. Mom went upstairs
for a bath and fresh clothes, and Janie decided to surprise her.
They were going to have a picnic supper, and she felt that it should
be something special to celebrate the occasion. She paged through the
cook books and the recipe files and lost a little of her courage. I’d
better limit myself to a dessert, she thought. The last time I tried a
whole meal it didn’t turn out so well. A very handsome three-layer cake
took her eye, and she assembled all her ingredients, and then gathered
together all the bowls, pans, and spoons she would need.
Davey walked in carrying Butch. Janie dusted the flour off her hands,
and raised her eyebrows in an expression of true big-sister superiority.
“I thought, Davey,” she said, “that Mom wanted you to keep Butch
outside today.”
Davey looked plaintive. “I know,” he grumbled, “but we want to play
hide-and-go-seek, and he always runs to where I’m hiding, and then I’m
always ‘it’.”
Janie giggled. “Okay, Davey. Leave him here. I’ll take care of him.”
Butch was very interested in the cake baking, but Janie discouraged
him. She ordered him out on the back porch. She stamped her foot at him
and shoved him, but he’d only come back again. He watched everything
she did, and when she bent over to light the oven, he saw his golden
opportunity. He jumped up on the table and added his contribution to
the cake. He had watched Janie shake a little of this and a little of
that into the cake, so he picked up a shaker marked PEPPER and looked
at her out of his beady eyes. She was still fussing with the oven, so
he quickly shook the can into the cake batter and hurried back to his
post of exile at the kitchen door.
With this piece of mischief out of the way, he was content to sit and
watch. After the shining flour sifter and the fascinating egg beater
had been put away, he ran in to Mom’s chair in the library, and peered
over her shoulder offering advice as she wrote letters. Mom bounced him
in a hurry.
“Go away, you heathenish creature, or I’ll give you to the zoo.”
Jane shook her head and laughed. “You certainly are a problem, Butch.
We’ve never had a two year old who caused so much commotion.”
“Or was so much fun,” added Mom.
Janie ran down the street to say good-by to Dor, and when she got back
the back porch was half filled with suitcases, packing boxes, bundles
of all descriptions, and even house plants.
“Goodness, Mom,” exclaimed Janie. “Where are we going to put all this
stuff? Where will _we_ sit?”
“Daddy’s going to hire a trailer for this trip, dear. Now don’t forget
to remind me to turn off all the lights, and don’t let’s forget about
this big basket. It’s our supper.”
Billy whistled. “Oh boy! Two picnics in one day.”
Butch was just as excited as the children. He hopped from Davey to
James and from Billy to Jane. He had his own suitcase. It was an old
doll suitcase that used to belong to Jane. Davey had packed it with
Butchie’s few little toys and belongings. There was a whistle, a top, a
bellboy’s hat, and a toothbrush. You, perhaps, never heard of a monkey
with a toothbrush, but Butchie imitated the boys, and his toothbrush
was his especial pride.
“Take it easy, old fella,” said Bill. “We won’t leave you behind.”
“Chee--chee,” said Butch, as if he meant: “With this scatterbrain
family, I’m taking no chances.”
A little after five o’clock Daddy came down the drive with a bright
yellow trailer attached to the car, and for the next half an hour
everyone worked like a beaver. Daddy superintended the loading, and Mom
checked and rechecked the house and garage, the lights, the faucets,
the windows, and the doors. At last everything was ready, and they
rolled down the driveway and into the street. They passed through
the shopping center and over the river and up the hill to the county
buildings.
The stop light turned green and they turned out on the road that led
to Oak Lake. The distance was only about twenty-five miles, and they
usually whisked out there in no time, but with their heavy load they
traveled along at a leisurely rate, singing as they went.
The Murrays always sang as they drove. They sang as easily as the birds
on the telephone wires, going from one old favorite to the other. They
liked to sing rounds, like “Three Blind Mice” and “O The Bull Frog on
the Bank.” Someone always started “The Quilting Party,” and Daddy could
be counted on for “Swing Low Sweet Chariot.” While they warbled along
the highway Butch carefully untied Jane’s hair ribbon, and placed it on
Billy’s head.
Now they were coming to a hill that the Murray children always waited
for, because far down at the left was a small lake rimmed with cattails
and spruce trees.
Once, long ago, Janie had seen a heron, startled, fly off on his
great brown wings, and sometimes in spring it was the resting place
for northern bound flocks of loudly crying wild geese. Tonight it lay
there, rose colored in the evening light, like a fallen maple leaf.
“Our little lake,” said Janie, softly. “I wonder if it has a name.”
Every foot of the way was familiar. The fox farm, the barn they had
seen collapse the night of the big wind, the farm that always had such
fat little pigs, and then one more hill and the road turned off to the
lake.
Daddy drove carefully off the main highway onto the graveled road. They
passed the haunted house and turned at the canal, went around the curve
and there sparkling in the sunset, lay beautiful Oak Lake.
The planks of the short bridge at the canal rattled under them, and
from there they could see the cottage. There was an iron fence with
large stone posts at the gate, and as the car stopped all the children
seemed to escape at once.
Mom unlocked the door while Dad lowered the awnings, and then they
worked quickly to unload the trailer. Billy stopped with a carton in
his arms.
“You know, Dad,” he said. “I saw a newsreel once of some coolies
unloading a ship. They formed a long line and passed the stuff from one
to the other. Why don’t we do that? We could be finished sooner.”
Dad knew that they never minded work if it seemed like a game, so a
relay it was. Daddy stood at the trailer and Mom was at the end of the
line.
When everything was in, Mom called, “Who wants a swim before supper?”
“I do.”
“I do.”
“I’m so hungry I could eat a raw fish.”
“Please don’t.”
“I’m so hungry I could eat grass.”
While the boys talked, Janie raced into her swimming suit. She was the
first one ready, and called over the top of the bath house partition:
“Last one in is a rotten egg!”
“Splash!”
“Splash!”
“Splash!”
“Splash!”
Then a big splash for Mom and a bigger splash for Dad, and the Murrays
were in for the first swim of the season.
The water was cooler than they expected. Mom called it cold, and Dad
called it bracing. Far over on the western shore the sun went down
behind the purple woods, and the swallows dipped close to the water and
then up again.
“Look at the swallows,” called James. “They’re dive bombing.”
“They’re dive bombing, all right,” said Daddy, “but their targets are
only mosquitoes.”
“Last one out is a bum,” called Mom, and her wet brood followed her out
like ducklings follow the mother duck.
The contents of the picnic baskets were spread on the long table, and
Janie’s cake was the center of attention. It was covered with pale pink
frosting, and she had garnished the edge of the plate with pansies and
maiden hair fern. They waited expectantly while Janie cut slices for
Mom and Dad and the boys and a good sized slice for herself. Mom took
the first bite.
“M’m’m, most interesting flavor. What seasoning did you use?”
Daddy looked puzzled and took a second bite. “There’s something
different about this cake, Janie. I can’t quite place it.”
Janie tasted it. “It’s pepper,” she cried. “It tastes like pepper.” She
glanced immediately at Butch, and squinted her eyes in suspicion. “If
I hadn’t watched you every minute of the time, I would suspect....”
She didn’t finish her sentence. Butchie, a picture of innocence, was
fast asleep.
The boys carried their paper plates down to the lake front and built a
fire with them.
“I’m a heap big Indian chief,” chanted Davey. He danced around and
around the blaze.
“Indians used to dance here a hundred years ago,” said Jane. “I know,
because we found arrowheads. Do you remember, Billy, when the farmer
uncovered all those wonderful Indian relics while he was plowing?
The level of the lake was higher then. They must have had happy
celebrations just like we do now, and they must have loved this part of
the country very much. Just think how filled the lake must have been
with fish, and the woods over there on the western shore were filled
with deer and rabbits and pheasants, and....”
“Bears,” interrupted James. “Big brown bears. Here comes Dad. Let’s ask
him to tell us a story about the Indians who used to live here.”
Dad sat down cross-legged before the dying fire and told them a long
story about an Indian who caught a pickerel who could talk. The story
went on and on until it was quite dark and the stars came out. Mom came
down and chased them off to bed.
“There’s going to be a big day tomorrow,” she said. “We have to get the
weeds out of the garden.”
Jane came back to the porch after she was ready for bed, and found Mom
reading. “Would you like a sandwich,” she asked. “The failure of my
cake left me hungry.”
“M’m,” said Mom, without looking up.
“Make one for me too, Petunia,” said Dad.
The kitchen seemed warm, and as Janie opened the window, a robin flew
away. “Our friend is back,” called Jane. “That same robin has been
making her nest here on the window sill for a long time now. We’ll
have to be careful about opening the window. She doesn’t like to be
disturbed.”
She finished her sandwiches and carried them back to the porch. “Could
I have Katy visit me this year, Mom?”
“Yes, Janie. I’ll ask Katy’s mother the next time I see her. Perhaps
she can come out to spend the Fourth of July with us. Does that settle
all your problems?”
“Yes, Mom, and I’m so sleepy I can hardly stay awake another minute.
Good night Daddy. Goodnight Mom. Oh, but it’s nice to be at the lake
again.”
_Chapter Three_
_The Purse in the Trash Pile_
[Illustration]
It was the twelfth of June. Everyone else was asleep, so Janie dressed
quietly and went out into the garden to hoe while it was still cool.
The dew was on the grass, and she surprised a fat little rabbit eating
clover. She laughed. He looked so silly when he ran, with his white dab
of a tail.
The garden was across the road and way at the back of the lot. It was
pleasant there. You could see far off across the fields as far as
the swamp where the tamaracks grew. Janie had never been as far as
that swamp. Daddy said it was like a jungle. The trees grew so thick
you could hardly walk through it, and there were snakes and even
quicksand. It looked very pretty this morning in the soft light. The
tamaracks were like soft green fur.
Janie hoed and weeded and worked away at her share of the garden. After
a while Billy came across the road. “Hi, Bill,” she called. “Hurry over
here. I have an idea.” He came on the bound, and she laughed to see him
run. He’s like that little rabbit I saw a while ago, she thought. He’s
good natured and he has fat cheeks.
“What’s your idea, Jane?” demanded Bill.
“I’ve been out here toiling in the corn like old black Joe while you
were asleep, and now I’m all tuckered out. Sit down here under this
tree, and I’ll tell you all about it. You see that old trash heap there
in the next lot? Well, when Mrs. Saunders went back to Chicago last
fall, she cleaned house, and she threw away a lot of really good junk.
She had a cleaning woman helping her, and they tossed out stuff by the
bushel basket. Mom wouldn’t let me take any of it then, because she
said we had enough junk of our own to clean up, but I’d just like to
poke around and see if there’s anything there we could use.”
“What could we do with it?” asked Billy.
“Don’t you remember the time we found the wheels and made a wagon?”
“Yes, but there were only three wheels, so it turned out to be an
airplane.”
“Yes, and do you remember the time we found the clock, and how Davey
monkeyed with it for weeks, and then one night when we were all asleep
it started to strike, and scared us half to death?”
Billy laughed and shook his head. “Poor old clock,” he said. “It struck
twenty times in a row, and then it never ticked again.”
They started back down to the cottage for breakfast. There were
pancakes and syrup, and cold milk, and a big bowl of fresh
strawberries. They ate at a long narrow table placed in front of the
open windows at the west end of the porch. Old-fashioned moss roses
were in bloom beneath the windows. The lake lay out in front of them,
smooth and blue, and a family of tiny wild canaries were very busy with
a piece of string in the willow tree.
After breakfast Janie made her bed, and then walked out in the back
yard again. The boys were doing their share of the gardening, and with
her eyes closed Janie could have guessed what was going on. Any strong
interest in gardening usually lasted until a worm was turned over, and
then someone would say, “Let’s go fishing.” Whatever cultivation the
garden got from there on was accidental.
The pattern was slightly different this morning. Davey turned over a
flat stepping stone, and found part of an ant colony. He called, “Hey,
fellows, look at this,” and hoeing was cheerfully suspended while the
boys traced the progress of the ants by turning over stone after stone
in the garden path. They lay flat on their stomachs, marveling at the
intricate tunnels, and the clever way the little creatures maneuvered
loads much larger than themselves.
Janie felt very virtuous, with her share of the weeding finished.
“Now,” she said. “If you boys would work as hard as those ants do, we’d
have a beautiful garden.” Billy rolled on his back and grinned lazily
as he squinted up at the sun.
“Aw,” he said, “it’s too hot to work. Let’s go swimming.”
The four children trailed down through the front yard toward the
bathhouse.
“Oh, Mom,” called Janie. “Do you want to come swimming with us?”
Mom came to the screen door. Her hair was tied up in a turban, and she
had work gloves on her hands and smudges on her face. “Look at me,” she
said. “I’ve been waxing floors, and I don’t have enough ambition left
to swim as far as the raft. I’ll sit on the beach and play lifeguard.”
The boys splashed noisily off in the row boat, but Janie walked out
to the raft. On a quiet day like this you could see all sorts of
interesting things in the water. A large school of minnows swam ahead
of her as she waded. There were clams on the floor of the lake, and
colored rocks. Daddy said that some of these rocks had the imprint of
tropical plants, fernlike tracings from the time when the world was
still being made. There were turtles sometimes, but no sign of them
this morning.
Janie swam the rest of the way out to the raft, and then stretched out
in the sun and watched her brothers. The sun felt warm on her back. She
waved at Mom on the beach, and then ran to the edge of the raft and
dove into the cool water. They swam around for a short while more, and
then headed for shore.
While they ate lunch Billy told Mom about the junk pile in the back
lot. “I can’t think of any reason why you can’t go over there, if
you’re careful not to get hurt,” she said. “Mrs. Saunders surely
wouldn’t mind getting rid of some of that trash pile. The only thing
is that you must be careful of rusty wire and broken glass, and things
like that.”
“We’ll be careful, Mom,” they promised. After lunch Janie helped Mom
with the dishes, and the boys started off for the back yard. They wore
Daddy’s cotton work gloves, and James carried a long stick for prodding
around. Mom said that it wouldn’t be a very good place for Butch, so he
stayed on the porch.
The first thing that Billy dragged out was the leather-covered seat
from an old sofa. “This will be great for landing on when we high
jump,” he said.
James was overjoyed when he found a large assortment of old medicine
bottles. “I’m going to wash these out,” he said, “and use them for my
experiments.”
James was always putting strange things together, and shaking them
up in a bottle with varying results. Sometimes the cork would blow
off, and the stuff would blow all over the room. Sometimes the magic
brew would be forgotten, and it would stand around in the heat until
Mom would dump it out gingerly with one hand while she held her nose
tight shut with the other. Once he put a mixture of unknown chemicals
together, and some of it spilled on the floor. All the varnish came
off. The spot is still there, covered up with a rug. Mom was really
provoked that time, but James always felt that that was one of his best
combinations. He piled the empty bottles into a basket and whistled
happily while he worked.
Davey collected just like a crow. There was nothing logical in the
way he gathered his treasures. Just now he had found the remains of an
old parlor lamp, and he was sitting in the grass, taking it apart, “to
fix it.” Mom smiled to see him so absorbed, and she shook her head.
“I’ll be shaking bits of that old lamp out of his trouser pockets for
the next two weeks,” she said. Then she waved at Billy and James and
called: “I think you’re all wonderful. Carry on while I find some bean
poles.”
Jane walked over to the junk pile and looked around. There certainly
was an interesting assortment, but what was that noise? Billy heard it
at the same time, and stopped working. It was Butch, chattering and
running around in the tall grass.
“Butchie, you’ll cut your paws. Come, Butchie, come back to me,” called
Davey.
The little monkey thought that the children were playing with him, and
he climbed up on the junk pile. Just as Billy reached down to pick him
up, he stuck his paw down among some old dried leaves and picked up a
small leather purse. Then, with a shriek and a scurry, he was off again.
“Butch, you naughty monkey, what did you find? Come here, Butch,”
called Bill.
Butch was delighted with his prize. He raced off to the little cottage,
and there he crawled under the porch, where he buried his loot. He came
back to the children clapping his paws together in great satisfaction.
Davey picked him up, and carried him back to the cottage porch. “This
time be sure and lock the screen door,” called Billy.
“What do you suppose he found in that purse?” said Jane.
“Oh, it was just some old junk.”
“No, it wasn’t old. It was new. I saw it. It was a good purse, and it
was filled with something.”
Billy didn’t answer. He stood there looking puzzled, like a fat-cheeked
question mark.
“I don’t get you, Janie.”
“Just the same, Bill, I wish that Butch hadn’t taken the trouble to
hide it. Do you suppose we could find where he buried it?”
Billy didn’t look so puzzled any more. “Of course we could find it.
Butch never buries anything very deep. He just makes a shallow hole,
and covers it over loosely with leaves and grass and stuff. I tell you
what let’s do. Let’s go down and get Butch, and send him under the
little cottage. We’ll tell him to fetch it back for us.”
Jane said: “All right, Billy. We can try it, but I doubt if it will
work. I love Butch. I think he’s clever and cute, but he’s so perverse
that if he thought we really wanted him to do one thing, he’d do
another.”
They walked down to the cottage together and found Butch playing the
piano. He was delighted to see them so soon after he had been banished,
and he seemed to listen very carefully while Billy explained what they
wanted him to do.
“You go back under the little cottage,” said Bill, “and bring us the
purse you found.” He gave him a playful little push, and then brother
and sister lay flat on the grass, watching to see how he would obey
their instructions. He made straight for the hiding place, dug for
a moment, and then dragged forth the purse. He held it up for their
delighted applause.
“Good work, Butchie.”
“Good monkey!”
Even as they spoke there was a wild uproar, and Buick, the neighbor’s
dog appeared at the other side of the cottage. He was barking with all
the fury that the sight of the monkey always aroused in him.
Butch grabbed his prize to his chest, and raced for the porch pillars.
He was up as fast as you could call his name. Once off the ground, he
was safe from Buick’s angry barking. He put his purse in a safe place,
and then leaned over the porch roof to see what was going on. When
the children would beg him to come down he would place both paws over
his heart, and roll his eyes, as if to say, “Can’t you see that this
black, short-legged, bewhiskered monster would tear me to shreds?” The
next minute he would wave his little red shirt like a bullfighter at
the dog, and grin and prance in glee from his safe perch.
Mom appeared to find out what all the shouting and barking was about.
She smiled at Butchie’s predicament, and told Bill to quiet Buick and
take him home.
“Okay, Mom. Then I’ll get a ladder and go up and rescue Butch.”
“No, whatever you do, don’t go up on that roof,” said Mrs. Murray
seriously. “There’s a loose wire up there that could give you a very
bad shock. If Daddy is able to come out this week-end, he’ll go up
there and repair it, but in the meantime, don’t any of you go near it.”
Janie’s face fell. She knew what Mom said was true. There was danger of
a shock if they crawled up there, but what about the purse? Now they’d
have to wait until Saturday to get it. As soon as Billy led Buick away,
Butch shinneyed down the porch pillar and Jane carried him to the big
cottage.
Mom greeted her with some good news. “I expect Grandma and Aunt Claire
out here one of these days, perhaps tomorrow. We’ll have to air out the
little cottage, and get it ready for them.”
The children were glad. Grandma was a great favorite. She was one of
those rare persons who had energy and enthusiasm to spare, and though
her curly hair was white, and her knees were a bit stiff, she knew all
kinds of tricks and games. She could hold a sick child on her lap, and
sing to him and tell him stories until the pain would go away. She
could end a quarrel by telling a funny story, and she never forgot a
child’s favorite dish.
She always carried a large black purse, and what wonders it contained!
There were rolls of caramels and fruit drops, peppermints and gum.
There was a coin purse that jingled with pennies and nickels and dimes
for children who had been especially good.
Aunt Claire was Grandma’s only daughter, and she lived with her. She
was a jolly little person with twinkling brown eyes. She could paint
beautiful pictures, and she knew just where to catch big fish. She
didn’t invent stories like Daddy did. She read aloud, which pleased the
children just as much, and she won the undying respect of her nephews
by being able to bait her own hook.
Just at that time the nephews would rather be baiting hooks than
preparing for their Aunt’s arrival, but off to the little cottage they
marched with brooms and mops and dust cloths.
Billy took off a screen and climbed through the window. His brothers
followed him. They, might have to clean house, but nothing so common
place as walking through a door to do it. Oh no. They dusted with
vigor, if not with care. James slyly tripped Billy with a wet mop, and
Davey hid under the bed while Mom scolded about it.
In less than an hour everything was bright and clean. Janie ran to the
garden and picked a bouquet of pansies to put beside Grandma’s bed and
Davey fixed a glass of lemonade to stand beside Aunt Claire’s bed. No
one told him that it would be warm and stale by the next day. It was
his contribution, and he was seriously praised for his thoughtfulness.
Mom walked out on the pier just as Janie, Billy and James were leaving
to go fishing.
“I am the bearer of sad tidings,” she said.
They looked at her blankly.
“Mrs. Saunders’ junk pile,” she explained, “is only half cleaned up.
You’ll have to finish it.”
“Yes, Mom,” said Billy soothingly. “As soon as we get back from
fishing.”
“No, Billy. The place is the back yard, and the time is _now_.”
“Janie has to help too,” said Bill. “She thought of it in the first
place.”
“That’s just fine with me,” Mom assured him. “Now hurry and finish
clearing up that mess before Grandma gets here.”
The disgruntled trio started back to Mrs. Saunders’ yard.
“Creepers!” said James. “All we did today was work!”
_Chapter Four_
_The Turtle Who Towed the Boat_
[Illustration]
One morning Janie awoke to hear the dripping of the leaves and the soft
splashing of the rain against her window. She yawned, stretched, and
turned over for another nap. How peaceful it was. She squirmed in sheer
comfort.
Then she sneezed. Her ear tickled and she scratched it. Her nose
tickled again, and all of a sudden she was wide awake and yelling
angrily.
“Billy, get out of here! I know you’re behind that dresser. I saw you
try to tickle me with your old feather!”
Mrs. Murray appeared at the door and pulled Billy out from behind the
dresser. “Now, my boy,” she wanted to know, “what are you doing here?”
He looked silly, standing there in his pajamas, holding a feather
attached to a wand.
“Gee, Mom. I was only trying to wake her, so we could go fishing.”
“All right, then. Back upstairs with you, and finish dressing.” Turning
to Jane she said: “Do you think it was worth while to lose your temper
for a little tickle like that?”
Janie glowered. Her eyebrows were drawn together and her lower lip
stuck out in an angry pout. “Mom, he teases me all the time.”
“All the time, dear?”
“Well, he teases me a lot. Sometimes in the morning he sticks his head
in my door and sticks his tongue out at me, just to make me mad!”
“If you didn’t scream so, and make such a fuss, he wouldn’t pay any
attention to you. You’ll have to learn to pass off some of the boy’s
teasing with a smile. Don’t lose your temper.”
“Well, I’ll try,” grumbled Jane, “but he....”
“Not he,” her mother interrupted, “but I. Billy has to conquer his own
faults and you must learn to handle yours. Get up now and let’s all have
breakfast. Grandma and Aunt Claire may get here today if they don’t
mind a little rain.”
Mother and daughter exchanged a brief smile and a brief kiss. Janie
sat on the edge of her bed and swung her legs back and forth. All of a
sudden she gave a good kick and one slipper hit the ceiling while the
other flew into the open closet door. That was the end of her tantrum.
Billy’s head was bent over a huge bowl of corn flakes when Janie came
up behind him and surprised him with a kiss.
“I’m sorry, bub.”
He stopped a moment, and then turned around,
“Okay, Okay! Boy, you went off like a fire siren. Do you still want to
go fishing?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then hurry up and finish your breakfast, and let’s get out of here.”
Breakfast was out of the way in a hurry, and Mom offered to do the
dishes if the children would make the beds.
James offered some of his best fat worms for the expedition, and was
invited to go along. Davey decided he’d go without being invited. Looks
were exchanged.
Davey was sort of a problem. He was four years younger than James and
six years younger than Bill, but he was included in all their games and
plans as an equal. That is, he was almost always included. Every so
often he had to be told he was too little or too young.