“OH, WE’LL SAIL THE OCEAN BLUE!”
“We will stop at the market, dear, and lay in a supply of goodies for
Mary,” said Mrs. Lombard, as she took her seat in the phaeton beside
Denise, the following morning.
“‘Allee rightie,’ as John Chinaman said to me the other day when I
stopped for papa’s laundry work. Good-by, Hinky-Dinky, we’ll come back
before long, and I am going to bring you a surprise,” she called out to
Hart, who had just crawled through the opening in the hedge. “Moddie
says she has thought of a splendid plan, and you’ll be glad we waited
till to-morrow to launch the boat. There, it’s lucky Miss Meredith
didn’t hear _that_ sentence! She would ask me when I’d landed,” and
Denise’s laugh rang out upon the balmy June air.
“The old thing didn’t come anyway, Snipenfrizzle,” called Hart, as the
carriage rolled out of the grounds. “It won’t be out till to-night,
papa says. There was something wanting for the rudder. Tralla!” and he
waved his hat and disappeared within the “Bird’s Nest,” there to lose
himself in one of the numerous books which the book-shelves held, for
Denise’s library was an extensive one, and she was as fond of boys’
stories as she was of girls’.
After purchasing a generous supply of good things for Mary, they drove
to the little cottage in which she lived and reared her numerous
progeny. There were six all told, and Patsy, of dirty-face fame,
was the eldest. But Patsy had improved somewhat of late. Possibly
the possession of a wash-bowl and its accessories for his very own
exclusive use had incited a desire to live up to such elegancies, for
Mrs. Lombard had made it her duty to send him one directly Denise had
related to her the conversation held with the incorrigible Patsy during
the previous summer.
At all events Patsy was the proud owner of “a foin bowel an’ pitcher,
all blue on wan soide, an’ white on ’tither,” and sallied forth each
morning shining and radiant.
“Ah, Miss Denise, darlint, an’ have ye come to see me ba-b-y!” said
Mary when Denise’s smiling face peeped through the doorway.
“Yes, here we are, Mary, and have brought along the expressman, too.
See him? He wears dresses,” she cried, as she placed upon a chair the
parcel she was carrying. Mrs. Lombard followed close behind with a
basket of provisions, and a moment later Mary’s eyes were gladdened by
the sight of a very substantial supply of eatables.
“Now, Blossom,” said Mrs. Lombard, “while I take a few stitches for
Mary and this new baby, I want you to play ‘Polly’ and put the kettle
on. We will get dinner started, Mary, and when Patrick arrives he can
eat it and clean house.”
“Ah, the poor childe mustn’t be doing such work for the likes of me,”
protested Mary. “Sure, she don’t know nothin’ of this worrk.”
“Don’t I, though!” cried Denise, giving an emphatic nod. “What do you
think I have had all my ‘Bird’s Nest’ cooking lessons for, I’d like to
know? What shall I do, Moddie? You sit still and talk to Mary while I
play cook. What fun!”
“Make some tea, dearie, and put the beef over for the broth. Then put
on that piece of corned beef for Patrick’s dinner. My sweetheart knows
what to do,” said Mrs. Lombard, stopping to give Denise one of the
little love-pats that meant so much, and then, taking her seat beside
Mary, she began to sew upon some garments for the new baby.
“May I have this big apron, Mary?” asked Denise, taking up a huge
gingham one which lay upon a chair and enveloping herself in it till
she nearly vanished from sight. “Now for it,” she added, rolling back
her sleeves, and seizing the poker. “Moddie says that it’s no use
to try to cook with a poor fire, so you see how well I remember my
lessons, Mary,” and the little poker rattled at a great rate. Then,
catching up the kettle, she ran to the sink to fill it with fresh water.
“Where shall I find the saucepan, Mary?”
“Jist beyant in that little cupboard, darlint. Faith, did iver I see
the loikes of the child. Sure, ma’am, ’tis a housekaper she is alriddy.”
“She cannot begin too soon, Mary. It is all play now, but there may
come a time when she will be very glad to have learned it all in this
pleasant manner.”
Meantime the preparations went on. The chopped beef was put back upon
the stove to simmer in the cold water till all the rich juices were
extracted. Patrick’s big piece of corned beef was put into a big pot
and placed beside it, some potatoes were carefully washed and peeled
and left in cold water until needed. And all this time Denise was
humming away like a big bumblebee. And all this was the result of
the little playhouse training which this mother, whom the neighbors
sometimes termed “overindulgent,” had carried on in the guise of play,
till this little girl, now in her twelfth year, had become a capable,
helpful little body, able to do her share of the world’s work should
occasion ever arise for it. And years later, when the dear mother
was no more, and Denise, grown to womanhood, was forced to meet the
vicissitudes of life, her thoughts often went back to those happy days
and the precious mother, who taught so wisely and well that, as though
the mother eyes were capable of looking into the future and there
seeing all that lay in store for this cherished little daughter, she
was fitted when the necessity arose for it to meet the duties which lay
upon every hand.
“Tea is all ready,” announced Denise, as she brought to her mother and
Mary fragrant, steaming cups. True, the cups were not of “egg-shell”
china, but the tea was properly made, and everything was clean as wax,
for, notwithstanding her six children and hard work, Mary was a neat
woman, and everything in her house testified thereto. Twelve o’clock
had struck upon the town clock before all was completed, and Denise
had just set the potatoes on to boil when Patrick came home and the
children came rushing in from school.
“Now we will leave you to your many nurses,” said Mrs. Lombard, as she
arose from her chair.
“Don’t you let my potatoes burn, Patrick,” said Denise, wagging an
admonishing finger at him.
“Indade no, that I will not,” said Patrick, positively. “They’ll be the
foines’ taties that iver was at all, Miss Denise.”
Upon the way home Denise spied some circus posters, and was at once
filled with a desire to see the circus, for anything in which horses
were introduced was bliss unalloyed for her.
“They will be here on the seventh!” she cried. “The very day that
_Pokey_ will come! Oh, Moddie, how splendid! We can go, can’t we? Papa
will surely take us.”
“I wouldn’t wonder,” answered Mrs. Lombard, with the expression which
Denise knew to mean “yes.”
For the next few days Denise could hardly think of anything else, and
no suspicion of the startling events which would take place ere that
circus, which proved to be a circus in more senses than one, and its
proprietor, passed out of her life, ever entered her head.
Hart was waiting for them at the turn of the road, and Pinto and Ned
exchanged greetings with joyous neighs. He cantered along beside them,
his tongue and Denise’s keeping time to the ponies’ clattering feet.
That evening the new boat was delivered at Mr. Murray’s house. It was
a fairy-like little craft, built of cedar and shining with its fresh
varnish. Of course, Denise was upon the scene when it was taken from
the long express-wagon, and nearly as eager as Hart to see it in the
water.
Without letting the children suspect it, Mrs. Lombard had made a fine
silk flag and embroidered thereupon Hart’s monogram. Then, to make the
launching like a “really truly one,” she bought a tiny bottle of cider,
warranted to smash and sizzle in the most approved style.
While they were at breakfast the next morning Hart’s face peeped in at
the window, for boyish patience was stretched to the snapping-point.
“I’ve only two more bites of beefsteak to eat, and then I’ll come,”
said Denise, when Mrs. Lombard added, “Come in here, laddie, and help
us eat some of this fruit,” for she had no notion of letting the
children out of her sight until she could follow behind.
“What do you think of those bouncers?” asked Mr. Lombard, holding up a
big bunch of bright scarlet cherries. “Ah, ah! Tell your father that
my cherry-tree has beaten his this year. Put some of these beauties in
a little basket, Mary, and give them to Master Hart to take over to his
mother with my compliments. One must be generous to one’s neighbors
when one has fine cherries to show off,” laughed Mr. Lombard.
By the time Hart had eaten his fill, and the basket was ready to be
carried to Mrs. Murray, Mr. Lombard had left for town, and his wife was
ready to be present at the launching.
“What is the boat to be named?” she asked, as she followed the children
down to the river, with Ned, Tan, and the two dogs trotting along with
them, for Denise rarely stirred without her family surrounding her.
“Why, do you know that we haven’t been able to decide yet,” said Hart,
rather dismayed at the thought.
“He wants to call it ‘Denise,’” said the owner of that name, “but I
don’t think that it will mean much for the boat, do you?”
[Illustration:
_Denise._
“‘WHY NOT CALL IT THE _RIVER KELPIE_?’”]
“He pays you a very pretty compliment,” answered Mrs. Lombard.
“Yes, I know that, but it seems to me a boat ought to have a name that
sort of means something about water, and sailing, and all that.”
“Why not call it the _River Kelpie_? That means something.”
“There! you have just hit it! That’s splendid. She is as light as a
fairy, and those things are water-fairies, aren’t they?”
“Yes, little water-sprites who come to the surface and do all sorts of
graceful, fascinating things.”
“Then that’s what she is going to be called. What a shame that we
haven’t got a real simon-pure bottle to smash on her bow,” he added
regretfully.
“How will this answer for a substitute?” asked Mrs. Lombard, as she
drew from the little bag she was carrying a miniature champagne bottle,
gayly decked with blue ribbons.
“Oh! I say! Aren’t you just a trump!” cried Hart, surprised into
genuine boyish praise. “That’s a regular jim dandy, and Denise can
smash it to smithereens. Quick, let’s get her launched!”
The little boat lay high and dry upon the rocks, and a moment later
Hart and Denise had carried it to the water’s edge, for it was as light
as a feather, and they could easily handle it. To put it into the water
stern foremost, letting the bow rest upon sand until the ceremony of
christening it was ended, took but a few seconds, and, grasping the
little bottle by its ribbon-decked neck, Denise bent over the bow
saying: “I christen thee the Water Kelpie!” As the last word left her
lips, SMASH went the bottle, and a vigorous push from Hart sent the
boat into the water, he singing at the top of his lungs: “Oh, we’ll
sail the ocean blue,” and Mrs. Lombard joining in with a will.
After the children had somewhat subsided from the Indian war-dance
which followed the launching, Mrs. Lombard said:
“And may I have the honor of presenting to the captain of this
beautiful craft the private signal, which I hope will add to its
attractions and wave to his glory as long as the vessel rides the
waves?”
The shrieks of delight which greeted the pretty flag when she unrolled
it from its wrappings left her no doubt of its reception. It was
mounted upon a slender cedar staff, which fitted exactly the little
socket in the stern, and Mrs. Lombard never hinted that a note sent
to Mr. Murray when Denise had sent hers to Hart had been the cause
of the delay in the delivery of this little craft until the socket
could be placed in the stern all ready to receive the flagstaff, whose
dimensions she had given to Mr. Murray.
Of course, the Captain was duty bound to invite the donor of this
splendid flag to accompany him upon his trial trip, and taking her seat
in the stern, with Beauty Buttons beside her, Denise up in the bow,
and the Captain “amidships,” off they glided upon the calm river.
Sailor, Ned, and Tan were minded to follow, but Denise called out,
“Take them home, Sailor, that’s a dear dog,” and Sailor, proud of his
responsibilities, waved his tail in farewell and set about doing her
bidding.
More than an hour was spent upon the river, and when they came ashore
Mrs. Lombard felt entirely reassured, for Hart handled his oars like an
“old salt,” having rowed a great deal while at school.
“Thank you very much for a delightful morning,” she said to him. “I
shall make but one proviso regarding water expeditions, and that is
this: Please ask my consent before going, and then I shall never feel
anxiety.”
“We will! Of course, we will,” cried the children in chorus.