and how is your son and his wife? We have a nice stock of white nurses’
oxfords that you might like.”
“No, Mr. Seaman,” said Grandma politely. “I’d like to see some oilcloth
for the kitchen shelves.”
“We have that too,” he said, and led her over to the other side of the
store.
David stood before a mirror and tried on winter caps such as farmers
wear doing chores. They were all much too large for him, and as he
discarded them, one by one, Butch would try them on his head, and then
throw them on the floor. Grandma looked around and soon put a stop to
their foolishness.
Mr. Seaman wrapped her packages, and they started back down the street
to the drug store. If the Murrays separated in Deerpath, it was never
for long. They always met by common consent at the soda fountain. Billy
and James got there first, and they were sitting in a booth reading
a comic book and waiting for the others. Just after Grandma walked
in with David and Butch, Janie and Katherine arrived. Janie seemed
disappointed.
“We’ve looked all over, and they don’t seem to have any fireworks this
year.”
Billy waved his hand, as if by that gesture to banish all her
difficulties. “Don’t worry,” he promised. “I know where they sell them.
It’s a wayside stand on the way home. I’ll get some for you.”
“Oh good.” Janie looked relieved. “I was beginning to worry.”
Mom and Aunt Claire wandered in just then, and Mrs. Skinner came over
to take their order. James had a dish of strawberry ice. Davey wanted a
chocolate ice-cream cone. Billy ordered a vanilla cone with chocolate
“jimmies” sprinkled all over the top. Katy had root beer and Janie had
a coke. Grandma wanted root beer, and Mom and Aunt Claire had sodas.
After everyone had ordered, Davey ran over next to Mom and whispered
in her ear. She nodded and gave him a penny. He took it over to the
counter, and offered it to Mrs. Skinner.
“Please, Mrs. Skinner,” he said. “May I have a sucker for my monkey?”
The ride home was complicated with the addition of a great many
packages. Mom seemed to have bought enough supplies to feed even the
hungry Murrays for a week. The amiable little car took a deep breath
and expanded to hold them all.
Billy kept a lookout for the roadside stand he remembered from the year
before. “It’s just beyond the second turn in the road,” he said, “after
we pass the farmhouse where we buy currants.” There it stood, just as
he said. The farmer was out tacking red, white, and blue bunting to the
posts as they stopped the car.
“Yes I have fireworks,” he said. “I’m just unpacking them. If you folks
will wait a while, I’ll bring the packages down and you’ll be the first
to make a selection.” He went back to the farmhouse, and in a short
time returned with his arms full of bundles. Billy and James helped
him unfasten strings, and then the beautiful and colorful display lay
before them.
It was hard to choose. Billy decided upon salutes, giraffe crackers,
and one Roman candle. James hunted around for his favorite brand, that
came in a long narrow box. They were smaller than giraffe crackers, but
they were packed much tighter, and they made a much louder explosion.
Katy bought lady-crackers quickly and quietly, while David was still
spreading out his pennies. Jane was torn between skyrockets, which were
flamboyant and expensive, and the more conservative lady-crackers.
She stood on one foot and then on the other. Finally, she bought one
skyrocket and two packages of lady-crackers.
Davey came back to the car beaming. He had two packages of giraffe
crackers and some pin wheels and a flower pot. He was feeling very
adult.
“Goodness,” said Aunt Claire, as she looked over his assortment.
“You’ll blow us to kingdom come!”
Once more they started off for home. Just as they were about to turn
off the main highway, Billy leaned out of the window and shouted and
waved at a passenger car. It was Hoyer, he explained, and the Byrnes
twins and Johnny Engelhardt. “They’re all kids in my class,” he added.
“They’re probably going out to Harwood’s.”
Everyone helped to unload the car when they reached the cottage gate.
As soon as the perishable food was put away Mom sat down at the table
with Grandma and Aunt Claire and began to talk over plans for the
week-end holiday.
“It’s rather hard to plan exactly,” she said, “because you never know
who is coming.”
“Pshaw,” said Grandma calmly. “Just have a lot. If we have fine
weather, plenty of food, and good friends gathered around, the party is
a success before it starts.”
“That’s right,” Mom agreed, “and that removes all my uncertainties
except the weather.”
There was a pleasant prickly feeling of anticipation in the air. The
children were very well behaved. Janie didn’t lose her temper, and
Billy didn’t tease. James was rumored to have been seen with a dish
towel in his hand after meals, and Davey trotted around like a little
lamb. Even Butchie declared a short truce. He was quiet and good.
Thursday was the Fourth of July, and all day Wednesday the Murrays
raked and weeded and polished and cleaned. Daddy arrived at sundown and
was greeted with joy. Aunt Claire had baked homemade bread, and Mom
had baked cakes. Davey had decorated the lake front with flags, and
the boys were most anxious to show their father a long picnic table
they had set up on the terrace. Daddy held his arms up in the air and
laughed at their eagerness.
“One at a time, boys,” he said. “I’ll have to have something to eat
before I start out on this tour of review. I’ve been so busy all day
that I haven’t had a bite since breakfast.”
In a little while he walked around and admired everything. “You
certainly have worked hard, and you’ve been very good children,” he
said. “And, because you’ve been so good, I’m going to take you over to
the firecracker stand and buy you some firecrackers.”
The response to this sounded like a football game, and looked like one
too, for that matter. Poor Daddy was literally overwhelmed. Everyone
tried to hug him at once, and he fell to the ground with them in a
laughing, whirling nigger-pile.
“Hey, Mom,” he called. “Get me out of this. These kids are too much
for me.” They pulled him to his feet and brushed him off. Mom waved to
them as they started away. “Don’t be too long,” she said. “Remember,
tomorrow is a big day.”
They were home again by eight o’clock, and in bed by nine. In spite of
the excitement, they were quiet, and they soon fell asleep. When Mom
came in to check up before her bed time, she smiled to see Billy fast
asleep with a string tied to his wrist. It stretched across to the
other side of the room, where it was securely tied to Davey’s toe. They
had their firecrackers neatly stacked under their beds.
Mom called Grandma and Daddy and Aunt Claire, and they tiptoed up
stairs. Daddy laughed and marveled at the plan.
“Good night, folks,” he said. “We’d better sleep while we can.
Something tells me that it’s going to be noisy around here tomorrow
morning.”
_Chapter Eight_
_The Fourth Was Full of Fun_
[Illustration]
It was.
It sounded like the third day of the battle of Gettysburg. Giraffe
crackers and salutes were crashing on all sides. Nigger-chasers danced
across the pavement of the terrace with a staccato ticktacktoe. All
over the lake people were celebrating. Flags were flying, and there was
the intermittent pop and boom of firecrackers all the way from Hawk
Point around to Poplar Bay.
Katy and Jane were sitting on the front steps, watching the boys.
They’d put their hands over their ears and run whenever Billy would
touch off a big one. James was barefooted and still wearing his pajama
pants when Mom came out, and Davey wore his good trousers.
“Back in the house with you,” ordered Mom. “Get dressed and washed, and
sit down to the table and eat breakfast. The company will start coming
pretty soon, and I want everyone all cleaned up, and the porch cleared
off before they get here.”
Breakfast was wonderful. Waffles with maple syrup and honey. Bacon
curls, and melons with raspberries heaped in their scooped out centers.
Grandma poured coffee out of a shining bubbling percolator, and the
children had cold chocolate milk.
Butchie was having a fine time. He loved noise and excitement. He
wasn’t the least bit afraid of the firecrackers, but he had seen the
girls put their hands over their ears, and, mimic that he was, he
imitated them.
By ten o’clock the first car load of company arrived.
“It’s Uncle George,” called Billy, “and he’s carrying a watermelon.
The Davises are with him too. Here comes Grandma Davis and Dorothy and
Louise. Margy and the baby came too.”
The Davises were Mom’s family. They didn’t share the Murray boys’
enthusiasm for collecting frogs, but they all played a good game of
base ball, even Grandma Davis.
Janie reached joyfully for the baby, as the Davis girls emerged from
the car. They had swimming suits and base ball bats and cameras and sun
glasses.
Louise made a beeline for the bathhouse. “I’ve been waiting for this
all week,” she announced. “I’m going to swim all day.”
Dorothy called to Billy and James. “One of the men at the office won a
case of soda pop,” she said, “and he gave it to me. It’s in the trunk
of the car. Would you like to help me carry it down?”
James’ eyes popped, and his voice rose to a shriek, the way it always
did when he got excited:
“A case of soda pop! Great hopping catfish!... A whole case? The most
I ever had at one time was the day we went to the wedding, and Uncle
George gave me a whole bottle.”
Margie and Mom installed the baby in the tea cart. By removing the
glass tray at the top, and lining the inner compartment with pillows,
it became a fine emergency baby carriage.
“Why, I can remember when you used to sit in here,” said Mom to Katy.
Margie turned to Jane. “I can remember when you used to ride in the
tea cart, too. You were fat and bald and sassy.” Janie turned pink and
laughed.
“Well,” she admitted. “I’m still sassy.”
The neighbors had company, too. There were three cars parked in
Landry’s back lot. There must have been thirty people over at Williams.
There was a badminton game and horseshoe pitching going on in their
lower lot, and young folks in pretty bright clothes were sitting around
on the lawn near the house. The crackling of the fireworks kept up. The
sun shone bright and the breeze was cool. It was a lovely day.
Margie didn’t want to go swimming with the others, because she couldn’t
leave the baby, but Janie had an idea.
“Grandma,” she said. “Why don’t you wear a big hat, and come out as far
as the raft in the boat? We’d row you out, and you could hold the baby
on your lap. Then Margy could swim with us, and both you and the baby
would be close by and you wouldn’t miss any of the fun.”
“Why, I’d be glad to, if Margy would trust me with her baby,” exclaimed
Grandma.
Margy laughed. “After all the babies you’ve held in your day? I should
say I trust you.”
Everyone went swimming. They had races and they tried all sorts of
stunts. The baby was very excited and happy. She squirmed and gurgled
and clapped her hands. Uncle George swam over next to the boat and
called up to her,
“Hi, sweetheart!”
She gave a quick lurch, and as fast as the wink of an eye, she was
overboard and in the water. Grandma gasped, but Uncle George caught her
firmly by the hem of her little white dress when her body was just at
water level. Her arms and legs paddled as naturally as a tadpole. She
splashed and squealed in her new found element.
“Anyone can see,” said Uncle George, “that she’s a cousin of the
Murrays.”
Grandma Davis was afraid of getting her shoulders sunburned, and she
was the first one out of the water. One by one, and two by two, the
grownups followed her until only the children were left, and they were
the last to leave the raft.
The baby was given a quick rubdown and some dry clothes. Then she was
fed her own private lunch of mashed banana and spinach and milk, and
she was put to bed for her nap.
The Hansens came, Bob and Dorothy, and their browneyed youngster.
The men sat down at the lake front and talked in their deep rumbling
voices. The ladies dashed about in a pleasant sort of flurry, getting
the dinner ready. Grandma made coffee in the picnic coffee pot. It held
two gallons of coffee. It smelled of picnics and hikes and wood fires.
Janie never drank coffee, but she loved the memories of a sniff of the
fat old coffee pot.
Dorothy and Louise cut cakes and shook fancy salads out of star-shaped
molds. Aunt Claire sliced homemade bread and arranged some of her
crisp, pungent dill pickles on a tray. Margy cut ham, and Mom opened
the oven door now and then to look at a huge roasting pan full of brown
baked beans. James stuck his nose against the screen door.
“Mom,” he said. “I’m hungry.”
“In just a minute, chum,” said Louise. “I’m about ready to call you
in.” As soon as she called the children hurried in, picked up their
heaped up plates, and took them to the terrace. Here they ate and
gabbled to their hearts’ content while the grownups stayed on the porch.
After dinner James took a book and two bottles of pop and disappeared.
“I know where he is,” said Bill. “Whenever he gets it into his head
that he wants to be alone, he climbs up the rain spout at the back of
the cottage and lies on the roof. It’s shady there and no one can find
him. Daddy always says that James is the family genius. I think he’s
crazy.”
Janie laughed. “They both mean the same thing,” she said, flippantly.
David and Billy volunteered to burn all the used paper dishes, and as
soon as this was done tireless Davey demanded:
“When are we going swimming?”
“You just finished eating,” Mom answered. “Not for two hours, at least.”
“Then let’s play ball.”
“Whew! Why don’t we hitch you up to a power plant? You know, Davey,”
she said, “these people have just had their dinner, and they couldn’t
run from one base to another if they tried. Better wait a little while.”
Not at all cast down, Davey retired to the pier and shot off
firecrackers. He would light them, and then toss them into the water.
Sometimes the water would put them out, but almost always he would
hear a dull plop, and see a small geyser rise up at the scene of the
explosion.
The Landrys were down at the lake front, watching a sailboat race, and
Davey called out to them.
“Where’s Buick, Mrs. Landry? I haven’t seen him all day.”
Mrs. Landry shook her head and smiled. “Poor Buick,” she said. “He’s
having a bad time of it. He’s on the floor in the farthest corner of my
clothes closet with an overcoat over his head.”
“What’s the matter with him?” asked David in alarm. “Is he sick?”
“No,” said Mrs. Landry. “He’s scared to death of firecrackers.”
The ladies were sitting on the terrace, playing with the baby and
admiring her tricks, when suddenly there was a scraping noise, then a
shriek, and James, all whirling arms and legs, descended amongst them.
What had been a peaceful family gathering turned into the wildest
confusion. Dad picked him up and carried him into the cottage. He was
conscious, but he was pale and shaken. His lips were blue.
“My arm,” he said. “It hurts.”
Dad felt the arm swiftly, and scrutinized it carefully.
“I don’t think it’s broken,” he said. “But it should be, with the fall
you had. Where did you come from, anyway? Were you up in the tree, or
did you drop out of a passing airplane?”
“No,” said James. “I was up on the roof. It slants there at the corner,
and I must have fallen asleep, and dropped off.”
“You dropped right into our laps,” said Mom. “Thank heaven you’re safe.”
Aunt Claire made a splint out of the top of a small cheese box, and
they wrapped up the injured arm temporarily.
“It will be hard to find a doctor today,” Dad said. “They’re all away
from their offices for the holiday. By the way, James, there seems to
be some special connection between doctors and holidays for you. You
were born on Easter. You had measles one Christmas, and whooping cough
the next, and now you come flying off the roof on the Fourth of July.”
They tried to reach Dr. Russell, but he wasn’t in. They finally reached
Dr. Cordes in Deerpath.
“From your description,” he said, “it isn’t broken. Put him to bed, and
keep him quiet. I’ll drop over to see him in the morning.”
James smiled at the news, and made a small face.
Davey was relieved. “Now,” he demanded. “_Now_ can we play ball?”
Everyone laughed, and the tension was broken. Grandma sat with James,
and rocked and talked to him quietly. The others trooped out to the
back yard for a ball game. Sides were chosen, and Uncle George bawled
out, in the style of a big league umpire: “PLAY BALL!”
Grandma Davis made the first home run, and Mom sat on the side lines,
fanning herself. “Count me out,” she said. “I’ve had a busy day.”
They batted and ran and stole bases, and cheered for their teammates.
They grew warm and dirty, and consumed quarts of soda pop, but they had
glorious fun. At six o’clock they all trooped down to the lake for a
swim before supper.
James had milk toast. He still looked pale and interesting, with one
arm stiff and fat in a sling.
“I know why you fell off the roof,” said Billy, peeking in the door.
“I’ll bet you lost your balance because you were so full of soda pop!”
After supper Dad played the piano, and they all gathered around to
sing. They sang cowboy songs: _Red River Valley_, and _Oh Bury Me Not_.
They sang sentimental ballads and negro spirituals. Dad’s fingers ran
easily from one familiar melody to the next. “How about the _Star
Spangled Banner_,” he asked. They all joined in, even James from his
bed, and the baby from the tea cart. Just as the sun sank behind the
trees, he turned to Margy and played the opening bars of _Now The Day
is Over_. Her sweet voice rose strong and clear. Everyone was quiet and
listened to her. The birds twittered, and it was getting dark.
“That was beautiful,” said Janie. “That was the nicest song of all.”
The popping and crackling of firecrackers had been going on all day,
and now that it was dark, splashes of beautifully colored light
appeared in the sky on all sides.
“The skyrockets are starting,” cried Bill, and everyone ran down to the
lake front to watch. James had fallen asleep, so Mom closed his door
and tiptoed off.
It was a beautiful night. The sky was dark blue, and far over across
the lake someone had started a bonfire. It was yellow and orange
against the darkness. The children lit sparklers, and carried one in
each hand as they danced like fireflies on the lawn.
One by one, Daddy would help them shoot off their skyrockets. He would
fasten them to a tree, and touch the wick with a match. They held their
breath as the rocket swept up, up, and up. Whee--eee--eee! Then the
giant bubble would burst, and great colored stars would float upon the
night.
Davey craned his neck, and held Grandma’s hand. With all his heart he
wished that just one star would float down within his grasp, but they
vanished like soap bubbles. Just as one fiery arc would disappear,
another would take its place. There were pin wheels whirling their
light from posts and trees, and now and then they could hear the swift
whoosh and flare of a Roman candle. Katy and Jane lay far out on the
pier and watched the display.
Gradually the night grew dark again, and the folks went back to the
porch. Good nights and good-bys were said. The sleeping baby, the empty
cake dishes, and the rattling pop bottles were tucked into the car, and
the Davises went back to town.
Janie lay awake until it was very late. The young folks next door were
dancing on their front porch. Someone played an accordion, and it was
pleasant lying there in the darkness, half awake, listening. The music
faded away. The dancers called out their good nights and went home. The
lights went out, and the Fourth of July was almost over. Janie fell
asleep.
Buick emerged from under Landry’s porch, and looked around warily. It
was very quiet. The battle was over. He shook himself and stretched,
and then trotted down to the lake front and lapped the cool water.
_Chapter Nine_
_Billy Battles the Storm_
[Illustration]
The day after the Fourth of July was clean-up day, and Billy and Davey
cleaned the yard. The lawn was littered with scraps of firecrackers,
and Davey always stopped to examine them in the hopes that he would
find a good one. Butch hopped along with them, making a general
nuisance of himself. When, at last, a bushel of scrap had been
collected, he delved into the basket and came up with an armful. Davey
and Bill yelled and chased him, which only made matters worse. He wove
an elaborate pattern all over the lawn, leaving a trail behind him like
Hansel and Gretel. When the last confetti like bit had been strewn, he
climbed a tree, and sat just out of reach of his pursuers. Davey shook
a rake at him and Bill scolded, but no one could ever be angry at Butch
for long, because at the first sound of an angry voice he would rise
up and put both tiny paws over his heart. Pleading, with his head to
one side, he looked so forlorn that even the hardest heart would soften
toward him.
Dr. Cordes stopped by about eleven o’clock that morning to have a look
at the boy who fell off the roof. James was sitting up in bed playing
with his stamp album.
“Why, boy,” exclaimed the doctor, tapping him all over. “You must be
made of rubber. You’re all right. There isn’t a thing the matter with
you.”
Turning to Mom he said, “Keep him in bed for a day or two on a light
diet, and we’ll keep that arm in a sling, but otherwise there isn’t
anything for me to do around here.” He snapped his bag shut and gave
James a piece of gum. He tapped the pockets of his vest. “Black Jack
for the boys,” he said, “and Juicy Fruit for the girls. I always carry
it with me.” He took off his spectacles and polished them with a very
clean handkerchief.
“I have something in the back seat of my car that these children might
like.” His eyes ran around the room at the expectant faces. “But only
if they’ve been very good.”
“We’ve been good! We’ve been good!”
He put his spectacles back on and said: “Very well then, if you’ve been
good. Come along out to the car with me and we’ll have a look.” Davey
and Jane and Bill ran out with him, and James twitched with impatience.
“Oh, Mom,” he said. “What do you think it will be? A watermelon?”
Mom straightened his bed and thumped his pillow. “My poor starving
son,” she said, “don’t you ever think of anything but food?”
The doctor’s car started away, and the three children came down the
steps toward the house. Janie had something in her apron. She was
holding it tenderly, like a little cradle. The boys held the door for
her, and she walked to James’s bed slowly, and carefully laid in his
lap two of the prettiest little baby rabbits that you ever saw. One was
black and one was white.
James squealed and reached out to stroke them with his good hand. “Oh,”
he said. “Aren’t they cute? Where did Dr. Cordes get them?”
“From one of his patients,” Jane said, “a lady out in the country who
raises them.”
“They’re Flemish Giants,” said Bill impressively. “They grow to be as
big as a dog. I saw some once at the State Fair. They’re the biggest
rabbits in the whole world.”
Janie looked at the little mites on the bed. “They’ll have to eat a lot
of carrots and clover before they get that big,” she said. “What shall
we call them?”
They thought and thought. “Let’s call them Tar Baby and Snow White,”
said Jane.
“Those are sissy names,” said Bill. “Let’s call them King and Queen.”
James cocked his head to one side and studied them as if to draw
inspiration from the way they wiggled their ears. “Queen is all right
for the white one,” he said, “but the little black fellow doesn’t look
like a king to me. He looks scared stiff.”
And, somehow, in spite of all the efforts to give him a high sounding
name, he remained Blackie to the end of his days.
Jane felt ambitious. “Come on Bill,” she said. “Let’s build a hutch for
them in back of the garage.”
“Oh, no,” said James. “They’re so little and lonesome. Let’s keep them
here in the cottage. They’re just babies yet.”
Mom compromised by saying that they could start building the hutch
right away, but while James had to lie in bed, he could have them for a
short while each day.
“But don’t let Butchie get his hands on them,” she warned. “My, my,
what’s this house coming to? Grandma has her canary, and Billy is
always having bumble bees standing around in fruit jars. Davey has
Butch, and now a pair of rabbits. What next?”