sank. One less to pump and to carry water. The old man lay just where
they left him. He seemed dead. There was so much smoke in the air they
could hardly see each other, and as the flames raced up the tall weed
stalks bits of burning grass would fall on their arms and hands. James
was sobbing as he pounded away with the flat side of his shovel. Billy
was coughing and gasping.
“One more patch,” Dor called out. “This is the last bad spot! If we can
put this one out, the others aren’t so bad. It’s reached the lake on
one side, and it’s almost at the road on the other.”
They beat at the fire valiantly, and little by little, it gave way.
The roaring and the crackling died down. It had almost burned itself
out. The smoke was as bad as ever as they raced back to the old man’s
side. He was awake now, but he didn’t seem able to move. They tugged
and pulled at him and got him to the door of the shack. Billy looked
around for a bed, but there was none. There was a cot in the corner,
and they pulled it over close to the door and helped him to lie down.
Dor found a towel and wiped his face. He smiled at her. He had a sort
of nice face when he smiled. “Thank you, young lady,” he said, and
looked at her kindly.
“Don’t talk, Mr. Mott,” said Janie. “Lie still and rest. My daddy is
coming, and he’ll get a doctor.”
“Doctor? Rest? Pshaw! I never had a doctor in my life. I don’t need to
rest. I’m fine now. Fit as a fiddle. I just swallowed a might too much
smoke, I guess. I’m fine now, fine.” He tried to get to his feet, but
it didn’t work so well, for he faltered and then settled back on the
cot again. “I’m fine,” he insisted.
The inside of the shack was poor and incredibly dirty. There was a
cook stove in the middle of the floor that smoked. It must have been
smoking for years, because the ceiling and walls were black and covered
with soot. There were no curtains on the windows. The floor was black,
and there was a heap of tools in one corner and a pile of wood in the
other. There were a few chairs that looked like the antique chairs that
Mom had in the bedrooms at home, but they had no seats and the wood was
dark and furry with dirt. Half a loaf of bread stood on a small table
together with an empty meat wrapper, half a pound of lard, and a dirty
frying pan. A cup and a plate and a knife stood by, looking as if they
had been used again and again without washing. Janie groaned as she
thought of how she hated to wash dishes. “Dear Lord,” she prayed. “If
You get us out of this mess, I’ll never complain about washing dishes
again. I never loved and appreciated a clean house as much as I do this
minute.”
What a relief to hear Dad’s hearty voice in the yard! Davey scampered
along beside him, feeling important. “Well, well, Mr. Mott. You
had quite a fire, I see.” He looked at his black-faced children in
amazement. “What happened?” he asked. They all started to answer at
once.
“Just a minute,” he said, “let Dor tell me.” Dor took a breath and
recited what had happened from the first wisp of smoke to the face
washing. When she finished Dad looked very serious. “Mom is waiting for
you children in the car,” he said. “She’ll drive you home.” They said
“Good-by,” and hurried off.
Daddy turned to Mr. Mott. “I think you should have a doctor,” he said.
“Will you let me call one for you?” The old man looked feeble lying
there, and suddenly he seemed shrunken and pathetic.
“The fact is,” he said, “I haven’t any money. I have no money to call
a doctor, and I won’t take charity. My father lived on this land, and
now I’m going to lose it because I can’t pay my taxes. It’s a dang
shame, that’s what it is.” He blew his nose fiercely.
“Now, Mr. Mott, don’t worry about that now. Lie still and rest a bit.”
“I feel fine now. Pshaw, I just lost my breath in the smoke. It does me
good to talk, Mr. Murray. I don’t mind talking.” He sat up on the cot.
“I tell you, sir, it isn’t right. They can’t do this to a man. We used
to own a whole section of land, and now all I have left is this little
piece around the house. I’m going to lose this too, because I can’t
pay my taxes. Why, my father owned the finest house in the hereabouts.
He owned a good deal of land too. I’ve got some papers over there on
the desk I wish you’d look at. They’ll prove what I say is true.” He
pointed to a heap of messy looking rubbish piled up on a flat topped
desk in the corner. “Right there you’ll find a letter that my father
got from the governor of the state in 1852.” Mr. Murray hesitated. “Go
on,” urged Mr. Mott. “Find it. I want you to read it.”
The papers were yellow with age, calenders and advertisements for
patent medicines were unclassified. There were old bread wrappers and
samples of unused wall paper. Finally Mr. Murray found the letter. He
took it over to the door and looked at it carefully. He didn’t read
it. He just looked at it, and his excitement grew, for marching across
the top of the envelope were three dark blue one-cent stamps. There
was a portrait of George Washington in the center of each one. The
cancellation marks were not heavy, and though they were dusty and old,
they were in good condition.
“Mr. Mott,” he said. “Never mind about the letter. I think we’ve found
the solution to your problem right here on the envelope.” He pointed to
the stamps. “These are valuable,” he said. “I happen to know that they
have a catalogue value of one hundred and fifty dollars apiece. You
won’t get full value for them, of course, but you’ll get enough money
to pay your back taxes, and you’ll save your land. You’ll even have a
little money left over.”
Mr. Mott rose up and took the letter and looked at it. He blinked. “Are
you sure, Mr. Murray?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” he replied. “If you look through your old papers
carefully, you may find some more of them. I tell you what we’ll do.
As soon as you feel well enough I’ll drive you into town. We’ll go
to the stamp dealer who buys these old stamps, and I’m sure he’ll be
interested. He’ll most likely pay you a good price. What do you say?”
The old man sat holding the letter in his hands. He turned it around
and around. He peered at the stamps closely. “Well, I’ll be jiggered,”
he said.
Dad laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “That was just the tonic
you needed,” he said. “You look much better already.”
Mr. Mott stood up. His clothes were dirty, but his shoulders squared
back and he held his chin up. “The Motts aren’t licked yet,” he said.
“Thanks to you, sir, the Motts still own land.”
As Dad started out the door he met the goat coming in. He looked
astonished, and stepped to one side. “That’s Mirandy,” said Mr. Mott.
“She won’t hurt ye none. You know,” he continued, as the goat ate
crumbs from the floor, “you folks have been mighty kind to me, and I’m
not going to forget it. No sir, I’m not. I’m going to give you a fine
present.”
Dad looked a little flustered. “Why, no, Mr. Mott,” he said. “It wasn’t
anything at all that you wouldn’t have done for a neighbor.”
“No sirree, you did me a good turn, and one of these days you’re going
to get a present.”
Dad shook hands for good-by, and chuckled as he started off down the
road for home. He was still chuckling when he talked to Mom about
it. “The old gentleman perked right up. He even wanted to give me a
present, although what he could spare, I can’t imagine.”
“Perhaps he’ll give you one of his old stamps,” said Billy.
Dad looked pleased, but he tried hard not to show it. “Here we go
again,” he said, “getting romantic. I wouldn’t mind having some of the
stuff he’s got. I’d like to go through that scrap heap of his more
carefully.”
_Chapter Fifteen_
_Good-by Summer_
[Illustration]
Summer was almost over. The winding country roads were banked with
golden rod and purple asters. The hidden silk of the milkweed floated
like fairy wings on the still air. Mom canned peaches and tomatoes, and
Aunt Claire pushed and coaxed crooked little pickles into jars.
Martins gathered on the telephone wires at the side of the road. There
were mothers and fathers and uncles and aunts and many, many children.
They chirped and twittered without end. The young ones darted about
constantly as if to say:
“Enough of this talk, and these endless plans. Come, let us be off.
See what a fine flier I am. See how cleverly I use my wings.”
The braggart would circle and dip, but he’d soon be back pushing his
brothers about rudely to make a place for himself. Sometimes they all
started off at once, and the sky was filled with the rushing of wings.
Janie strained her eyes after them and sighed,
“If I could only fly along. What sights they must see! What wonderful
adventures they must have! Good-by, good-by, until next summer.”
They disappeared in the distance, but early the next morning they were
back again, like a bar of music against the sky. One day, of course,
they would really leave.
The stove was squat and shiny, like a little old lady in a black
taffeta dress. It crackled and glowed, and the curved sheet iron back
got slightly pink. The copper tea-kettle on top quivered and spit like
an angry cat. Mist hung over the lake and the grass was wet with dew.
Uncle Jim, who had lived in China, always described the weather as a
one-coat day or a two-coat day. Late August mornings at Oak Lake were
one-coat. Breakfast time was one sweater, and by nine o’clock it was
hot and clear with shivers and sweaters forgotten.
Mr. Murray took Mr. Mott to the stamp dealer who was pleased as he
could be about the rare old stamps. He paid him one hundred and fifty
dollars for the three that Daddy found the day of the fire, and offered
to buy any more that might turn up. The old man was overjoyed. He paid
his delinquent taxes and bought a coaster wagon full of provisions at
the store. Everyone ran to the gate to watch him come down the road.
Mirandy was hitched to the wagon, and she tripped along with her head
high and her whisker waving in the breeze. Her eyelashes dropped
demurely, and a stranger looking at her would never have guessed that
she was as temperamental as an opera singer and as wicked as sin.
Mr. Mott wore a new shirt, violently plaid.
“Good morning,” he called, bowing and smiling. “Good morning Mrs.
Murray, good morning folks! Mighty fine weather we’re having.”
The Murrays laughed and waved and called out to him.
“He has a gold mine in that little old chicken coop of his,” said Mom.
“He came down here last night with another stack of letters. Daddy
figured that the stamps on them should be worth about six hundred
dollars, and he found a certificate of stock that might still be sold
for a tidy little sum.”
“Oh, Mom,” said Janie. “Do you suppose he’ll move back into the big
house and fix it all up again the way it used to be?”
“No, I don’t think he ever would. He’s an old man now, and he’s content
to leave things pretty much as they are. I hope he’ll clean up that
shack of his. He didn’t say anything about that, although he did speak
of having a vacation.” Billy sat on one stone post and Janie sat on
the other. “Doesn’t he look grand Bill?” asked Janie as they admired
the retreating procession. “He turned out to be quite nice after all.
Do you remember how we used to run at the sight of him? I used to
shiver at the very mention of his name, and all the time he was just a
harmless old man.” Billy smiled and shook his head.
“It’s funny,” he said, “how just being kind to a person will improve
his disposition. I wonder what he’ll give Daddy for a present.”
“Billy,” Jane exclaimed. “It isn’t polite to wonder what people are
going to give you for a present, and besides, it will probably be a
stamp. He must know that Daddy is just crazy about stamps, even if he
doesn’t collect any more.”
Billy shaded his eyes as he looked across the road. “Yes,” he said. “It
will probably be a stamp. What’s that moving under the little cottage?”
He jumped off the post and ran. “Queenie is out again. That’s the
second time this week she got out.”
“Better catch her in a hurry,” called Jane. “The last time she got out
she ate Mr. Landry’s petunias, and Mom said the next time we’d have
fried rabbit.”
“Murder,” growled Bill. “She gets in there under the foundation, and I
can’t get in after her, then the minute I go away she’ll come out and
run away.”
“Come on, Queenie,” called Jane. “Better to be in your cage than in the
frying pan.”
“Stop that blood-thirsty talk,” said Billy making a face. “You know Mom
was only fooling.”
Jane giggled. “Maybe she was, but don’t tell Queenie. She’s been a
naughty girl, and she needs discipline.”
“This isn’t funny,” grumbled Billy. “You get on the other side of the
house, and catch her when she comes out. I’ll chase her out with this
long stick.” Jane looked dubious, and he continued: “And don’t let
her slip through your fingers!” He waved his branch, and out streaked
Queenie, right through Janie’s outstretched hands and into Landry’s
flower bed. There she sat nibbling on asters, and every time they would
get close enough to lay hands on her, she would dash off to another
corner of the yard.
“I know what I’ll do,” said Billy. “You stay here and keep an eye on
her, and I’ll catch her with my landing net.” Back he came in a few
minutes with his long-handled net, but Queenie was gone. “Billy, I’m
so sorry, I just couldn’t help it. I was looking right at her and she
just disappeared.”
They scouted around the neighborhood, but no sign of a white rabbit.
“Maybe a dog ate her,” said Billy mournfully.
“Maybe she was run over by a car,” brooded Jane. They walked slowly out
to the end of the lot where the hutch stood, and then they both stood
open-mouthed in astonishment. There, on her bed of clover, sat Queenie
eating a carrot!
“Well, mow me down,” said Billy when he could get his breath.
“She’s a witch,” said Jane.
Leaving the cottage at the end of the season always came as a surprise.
It seemed that everything would be as usual one day, and the next
morning the air would be full of preparations for going home. The boats
had to be taken in and turned upside down to dry out. The raft never
came in until the last afternoon of their stay, but screens had to come
off, and awnings had to be taken down. Janie always felt a little pang
of sadness at the thought of going back to town. Life in Springhill was
exciting and interesting, but the long summer days at the lake were so
much fun.
Grandma and Aunt Claire went back to town early, but the Murrays stayed
until the last day before school started. Dad had the trailer again,
and this time it was piled up higher than ever.
On the last morning Janie waded through a maze of packing boxes and
suitcases on the porch. Davey was feeding Butch, and Mom was doing her
best to persuade James that he could not bring a large fish into town
to be mounted.
“But, Mom,” said James, “it’s the biggest fish I ever caught.”
“I’m sorry, my boy. You should have thought of that while he was still
fresh, and not after he had been left down at the pier for two days.”
“But, Mom,” James repeated. “He’s the biggest fish I ever caught.”
Mom didn’t say anything. She just squinted her eyes and pinched her
nose shut between her first finger and her thumb. James looked at her
for a moment, and then he said,
“All right, all right,” and he took the fish out and buried it.
Dad and Bill were stacking packing boxes in the trailer. Jane ate
breakfast in a hurry off the edge of the kitchen sink, and then she
made the rounds to see that all the windows were fastened securely.
Billy had fixed a covered market basket for Blackie and Queen and he
set out for the back yard to get them started on the journey. He came
back with his eyes bulging.
“What do you suppose that Queenie did now?”
Mom sat down on a packing box and looked desperate. “If she ran away
again,” she said, “she can stay away. I’m not going to stop everything
now and go looking for her.”
“But, Mom,” said Billy.
“Don’t ‘But, Mom’ me! I’ll not start looking for her again this
morning.”
“But, Mom, she didn’t run away.”
“She didn’t run away? Then what are you talking about?”
“She had puppies. I mean rabbits. Babies. Lots of them.”
The whole family let out one big shout and ran for the back yard. True
enough, Queen and Blackie were the parents of a large and handsome
family. Mom and Daddy laughed so hard they leaned against the garage.
“Let’s get out of here,” Mom said, “while we still can. The longer we
stay here the more complicated things get.”
They went back to the cottage and hunted for something warm to wrap the
baby rabbits in. Everything had been packed away, but Davey volunteered
an old blanket of Butchie’s, and the infants were made ready for their
first long trip.
The trailer was pretty well packed when Janie spied Mr. Mott and
Mirandy coming down the road. “Hey, hey,” she cried. “Here comes Mr.
Mott with Daddy’s present. He said he was coming, and here he comes.”
“Janie,” said her father. “Don’t talk like that. You children have made
all this talk about a present sound like something that it never was
intended to be. What I did for Mr. Mott was no more than one neighbor
would do for another. I didn’t expect a reward, and I don’t expect one
now.”
“Maybe you don’t expect one, Daddy,” said James, “but you’re going to
get one.”
“Good morning, folks,” said Mr. Mott. “I see you’re getting ready to
leave, and I came to say good-by.”
“Don’t say good-by yet,” said Mom. “We’ll be out for week-ends all
during the nice fall weather.”
“City folks always say that,” said the old man, “but when the time
comes they get busy in town, and they stay there. Labor Day is usually
the end of things out here.”
“What do you do out here all winter,” asked Mr. Murray.
Mr. Mott patted Mirandy on the back. “Time was when I used to do a
lot of hunting and fishing, but I’m getting a little old for that. I
cleared a nice little heap of money on my stamps, and I figured that
this year I’d spend the winter in Florida. I’ve heard the fishing is
real good down there.”
“Good for you,” said Dad with a sort of surprised look on his face.
“Yes,” said Mr. Mott blowing his nose. “I’ve been mighty lucky, and you
folks have been the cause of it all. I’ve been figuring and figuring
what I could do for you and I’ve settled on Mirandy. She’s the finest
thing I own. She’s smart, and she’s gentle, and she’d make a good pet
for your children.”
Mom looked dazed, and Dad kept saying “But, Mr. Mott....”
“I’ll just tuck her right in here in the trailer beside the bicycle. A
little grass and some water is all she needs. Now don’t you thank me,”
he said as Dad started to protest. “You did me a good turn, and I want
you to have Mirandy. I really do.”
A gentle rain began to fall. The baby rabbits were asleep in Janie’s
lap in the back seat of the car. King and Queenie were in a market
basket under Billy’s feet. Davey was balancing a bowl of goldfish, and
Butch, terribly excited, was pointing and making impolite noises at
the creature with the chin whisker who stood in the trailer and looked
bored. Mr. Mott wrung Mr. Murray’s hand in farewell, and he walked down
the road toward the bus station. The car began to move down around the
curve and the children looked back at the snug little cottage.
“Good-by summer,” they called. “Good-by. We’ll be back again next
year.”
[Illustration: _Mary Lamers_
_The author of_ Cottage on the Curve]
_Cottage on the Curve_
Janie Murray and her brothers, Billy, James, and Davey were all
excited. School was over and they were getting ready to spend the
summer at their cottage at Oak Lake. Something exciting always happened
for there was swimming and a raft, fishing and hiking, and--a HAUNTED
HOUSE!
Wouldn’t you like to meet the Murrays? Fun-loving Dad brought the organ
grinder’s monkey home to live with them. To Mom, each child was her
favorite. Billy, the oldest of the children, liked to tease sister
Jane (as older brothers like to); Jane loved her Mom and Dad and her
brothers; she went fishing with them and baited her own hook (she liked
hair ribbons, too). James liked to mix things together in bottles
and you never knew what might come out of them; Davey, the youngest,
collected anything and everything for no reason at all.
The Murrays were constantly getting pets in the strangest way. Butch,
the monkey, was part payment of Dad’s fee for a case he worked on. When
the doctor visited James who had fallen off the roof, he presented the
children with two rabbits--one white and the other coal black. Buick
was the next door neighbor’s dog--he was at the Murrays so often,
however, people didn’t know to whom he belonged. BUT--wait until you
see what, the Murrays got from the cross old hermit who belonged to the
haunted house and lived in a chicken coop!
Mystery, excitement, suspense, and action always accompany the
Murrays--why not let boys and girls from nine to twelve years accompany
them, too?
Transcriber’s Note
Punctuation and hyphenation have been standardised, including changing
numerous semicolons when commas appeared to have been intended, and
removing apostrophes from the plural form of proper nouns unless
ownership was apparent.
Other changes have been made as follows:
Page 15
about you’re not being happy _changed to_
about your not being happy
“Mom,” replied, “I know you’re _changed to_
“Mom,” she replied, “I know you’re
Page 25
When I’m a millioniare _changed to_
When I’m a millionaire
Page 47
like a bullfighter at the at the dog _changed to_
like a bullfighter at the dog
Page 54
up and manuevered the boat _changed to_
up and maneuvered the boat
Page 99
The aimiable little car _changed to_
The amiable little car
Page 115
played an accordian _changed to_
played an accordion
Page 134
the Landry boys came pop-pop-poping _changed to_
the Landry boys came pop-pop-popping
Page 142
Billy roared with laugher _changed to_
Billy roared with laughter
Page 156-157
sat on the roof.
and then they rolled _changed to_
sat on the roof, and then they rolled
Page 172
they tamed a chipmonk _changed to_
they tamed a chipmunk
Page 180
lifted out the most lucious _changed to_
lifted out the most luscious
Page 188
but persistance is more important _changed to_
but persistence is more important
Page 200
looking a the stars overhead _changed to_
looking at the stars overhead
Page 214
she was as tempermental as _changed to_
she was as temperamental as