A CORONATION
“Oh, Aunt Nine, what _is_ the matter?” cried Miss Rachel, bending over
her, while Miss Abbie fluttered around distractedly.
They had not yet seen Lady Eliza, as they were so engrossed with their
stricken guest.
Nor did it occur to Dick and Dolly, at first, that it was their beloved
Eliza that had caused the trouble.
Aunt Penninah began to revive, as Miss Rachel sprinkled water in her
face, and Miss Abbie held her strong smelling-salts to her nose.
“Who is it?” she asked, faintly, sitting up on the floor, and pointing
to the dangerous-looking person with the carving knife.
“Oh,” cried Dolly, “if she wasn’t scared at Lady Eliza! Why, that’s
nobody, Aunt Nine! Only just a wax doll.”
“Take that thing away!” said Miss Rachel, sternly, as she realised what
had happened.
Dick and Dolly fairly jumped. Aunt Rachel had never spoken to them in
that tone before, and they suddenly realised that it had been naughty to
put Eliza at the table, though they had thought it only a joke.
Silently, the twins began to lift Eliza from her chair, when Aunt Nine
screamed out:
“Come away, children! You’ll be killed! Oh, Rachel, who is she?”
“Nobody, Aunt Nine. It’s a doll, a wax dummy that belongs to the
children. They put her there for fun, I suppose.”
“Fun!” roared Aunt Penninah, glaring at the twins. “Do you call it _fun_
to frighten me out of my senses?”
As her speech and manner nearly frightened the twins out of _their_
senses, they were pretty nearly even, but apparently the old lady was
waiting for an answer.
“We _thought_ it would be fun,” said Dolly, truthfully. “You see, we
didn’t know how easily you scared.”
“Easily scared, indeed! Who wouldn’t be scared to come into a room and
find a strange woman brandishing a carving knife in my very face! A nice
pair of children you are! Leave the room at once,—or else I shall!”
Dick and Dolly were bewildered by this tornado of wrath, and began to
edge toward the hall door, keeping out of reach of the irate lady.
But Miss Rachel, though deeply mortified and seriously annoyed at the
twins’ mischief, was a strong stickler for justice, and she well knew,
Dick and Dolly had meant only a harmless joke.
“Now, Aunt Nine,” she said; “don’t take this so seriously. The children
meant no harm, they wanted to amuse you; and had it not been for the
carving knife, I daresay you would have found the Lady Eliza very funny
indeed.”
“Funny! that horrible thing with her staring eyes! Take her away so I
can eat my dinner!”
At a gesture from Aunt Abbie, Hannah and Dick removed the offending
Eliza, and returned the carving knife to the sideboard. As Eliza was a
great friend of both Hannah and Delia, she was allowed to stand in the
butler’s pantry all through dinner time.
“Well, what do you say, Aunt Nine?” said Aunt Abbie, “may the twins sit
at table, or would you rather have them sent from the room?”
“Oh, let them stay,” said the old lady, not very graciously. “I’ve no
desire to be too severe, but that awful sight shocked my nerves, and I
may never get over it.”
This awful outlook grieved Dolly’s tender heart, and she flew to the old
lady and clasped her hand, while she said:
“I’m _so_ sorry, Aunt Nine! I didn’t know you had nerves, and I thought
you’d be ’mused to see Lady Eliza sitting there. I don’t know _how_ we
happened to give her the carving knife. But we ’most always put
_something_ in her hand. I wish we’d thought of a fan! That would have
been pretty, and it wouldn’t have hurt your nervousness,—would it?”
“Perhaps not,” said Aunt Penninah, grimly, but she couldn’t help smiling
at pretty little Dolly, who was caressing her be-ringed old hand, and
looking imploringly up into her face.
Then she turned to Dick.
“And how about you, sir?” she said. “Did you think it amusing to
threaten a guest with a carving-knife?”
Dick came over and looked at her with his straightforward eyes.
“I didn’t mean to threaten you, of course,” he said. “But it _was_
naughty, and I’m sorry,—we’re both sorry,—and can we do _anything_ to
make you forgive us?”
“No, you can’t,” said Aunt Penninah, “but when you look at me like
that,—with your father’s very eyes,—there is no question of
forgiveness. You’re all Dana—both of you!”
And then the strange old lady kissed both the twins and peace was
restored all around.
Dinner went on smoothly. Miss Abbie and Miss Rachel were secretly
impatient, because there was much yet to be done before the Reading
Circle came, but Miss Penninah’s presence admitted of no scanting of
ceremony.
Hannah’s service was more punctilious than the twins had ever before
known it, for Hannah had been at Dana Dene many years, and knew the
exactions and demands of a visit from Miss Penninah.
But at last the lengthy meal reached its close.
“Will you go to your room for a rest, Aunt Nine?” said Miss Abbie,
hopefully, as they rose from the table.
“No, I won’t; I’m not tired at all. I’ll make the further acquaintance
of these very astonishing young relatives of mine.”
“Oh, do, Aunt Nine! Do come and play with us!” cried Dick, with such
unmistakable sincerity that the old lady was greatly pleased.
“Yes, come out and see our gardens,” said Dolly, dancing by her side,
and to the great relief of the other two aunties, Miss Penninah walked
off with the twins.
Then Hannah and the two ladies flew ’round like mad. They put leaves in
the table until it was as long as possible; they set it with all the
best china and glass and silver for the Reading Circle’s tea. For the
feast was not a tea at all, but a most elaborate supper, and Aunt Nine’s
coming had sadly delayed the preparations.
Meantime, that elderly dame was walking round the children’s playground.
She was greatly pleased with their gardens, and was surprised to learn
that they tilled and weeded them all themselves.
“You’re really very smart little people,” she said, “and quite worthy to
bear the Dana name.”
The twins were flattered, for they well knew how highly all their aunts
thought of the Dana name, and, too, they had already begun to like the
peculiar old lady who had scolded them so harshly at the very beginning
of their acquaintance.
When it was nearly time for the ladies of the Reading Circle to arrive,
Aunt Rachel told the twins they must go out to their playground and stay
there all the afternoon.
“For,” she said, “I cannot run the risk of having some ridiculous thing
happen during our programme. You don’t mean to do wrong, but you’re just
as likely as not to stand Lady Eliza up beside our President when she’s
making her address. So take Eliza with you, and go out to the garden,
and stay there until Delia rings the bell, or Hannah comes to call you.”
“All right,” said Dick, “and if any of the boys or girls come over, may
Hannah send them out there to us?”
“Yes, I’ll tell her. Now, run along.”
They ran along, though slowly, because of Lady Eliza’s difficult
transportation. But at last they reached the playground, and stood Eliza
in a corner, ready for action when they needed her.
“Jiminy Crickets!” remarked Dick, “but Aunt Nine’s the funny old lady,
isn’t she, Doll?”
“Yep; but I sort of like her. After she got through blowing us up, she
was real jolly.”
“Yes, and wasn’t Auntie Rachel the brick to stand up for us at dinner
time?”
“She was so. I wonder how long Aunt Nine is going to stay.”
“I dunno. A week, I guess. Hello, here comes Pinkie. Hello, Pinkie!”
“Hello!” she returned, and then almost before she and Dolly had said
“Hello!” Jack Fuller came.
This quartette were almost always together on pleasant afternoons, and
as Dana Dene had attractions that the other homes didn’t possess, they
played there oftener than elsewhere.
“Hello, Lady Eliza Dusenbury,” said Jack, shaking hands with that silent
partner.
Of course, all the boys and girls knew Lady Eliza now, and indeed the
citizens of the village had ceased to be surprised when the twins rode
to town in the farm wagon, with Eliza accompanying them.
The servants at Dana Dene took her as a matter of course, and Michael
was fond of bowing politely, and saying, “The top of the mornin’ to ye,
ma’am!”
“Let’s build a throne and crown Eliza queen,” suggested Jack, and the
rest at once agreed.
“What shall we make the throne of?” asked Dolly.
“I’ll ask Michael,” said Dick, “he always helps us out.”
But Michael was busy with some extra work connected with the visit of
the Reading Circle, and had no time for bothering with youngsters.
“Throne, is it?” he said; “I’ve no time to be buildin’ ye royal palaces!
Take the wheelbarry fer a throne, shure!”
It was a chance suggestion, but it served, and Dick returned to the
waiting group, trundling the wheelbarrow.
“We can’t bother Michael much,” he said, “’cause he has to run that
Reading Circle thing. But I guess we can fix up this wheelbarrow with
flowers and greens and make it do. Hello, Maddy; Hello, Cliff!”
Madeleine and Clifford Lester had arrived during Dick’s absence, but
greetings were soon spoken, and the more the merrier.
Then the half dozen went to work with a will, using both heads and hands
to devise ingenious plans for the coronation of Eliza.
“She ought to be dressed in white,” said Dolly, looking disapprovingly
on Eliza’s blue dress; “but she hasn’t a white frock to her name.”
“Hasn’t your aunt any?” asked Pinkie, realising the real need of white.
“I can’t bother her to-day,” said Dolly, decidedly; “she’s got the
Reading Circle and Aunt Nine both at once; and she told me to keep out.”
“Couldn’t you get a big white apron from Delia,” suggested Maddy Lester.
“No; queens don’t wear aprons.”
Then Dolly’s eye lighted on the clothes line, full of the Monday wash,
which busy Delia had not yet taken in, though it was thoroughly dry.
“I might get something there!” she cried. “Come on, girls!”
The three girls ran to the big, sunny bleaching ground, where three long
lines of white clothes waved in the breeze.
[Illustration: LADY DUSENBURY’S PARTY (Page 288)]
“They’re all too little,” said Pinkie, as she viewed Dolly’s own dresses
and petticoats.
“No, here’s Aunt Rachel’s nightgown! This will do!” cried Dolly, and in
a jiffy she had the clothespins pulled off, and the voluminous, ruffled
garment in her arms.
“Just the thing!” cried Maddy, and they raced back to the playground.
It made a beautiful white robe for Eliza, and when belted with a large
bath-towel, also brought from the clothes line, Eliza looked like an
Oriental princess.
“Get another towel and make a turban,” said Clifford, and this gave
their queen a still more foreign look.
“The throne thing ought to be white, too,” said Pinkie, who had an eye
for color effect. “It’ll be a lot prettier to pin the flowers and greens
on, if it’s white first. Let’s get sheets,—shall we, Dolly?”
“I don’t care,” said Dolly, absorbed in making Eliza’s turban stay on
her head.
So Pinkie and Madeleine flew for the sheets, and stripped the
clothesline of all there were there.
“Now!” they exclaimed, coming back triumphantly, with their arms full of
billows of white linen.
“Now!” cried Dick, and they fell to work, and draped and twisted the
sheets, until the wheelbarrow was a lovely white throne. This they
decked with their flower garlands, and then lifted Queen Eliza up on it.
As she, too, had been decked with blossoms and garlands, it was really a
pretty sight, and the children clapped their hands and danced about in
glee at their own success.
“Now, we’ll crown her,” said Dick, “but I say, Dollums, we all ought to
be in white, too!”
“That’s easy,” said Dolly, recklessly; “there’s lots of things on the
clothesline yet.”
Back there they all ran, and chose costumes to please their varying
tastes.
The three girls chose more ruffled nightgowns like Eliza’s and looped
them up with flowers on either side, like fancy overskirts.
The boys selected lace-ruffled petticoats that belonged variously to the
aunts or to Hannah and Delia, and round their shoulders they draped
tablecloths or pillowshams in toga fashion.
Some table centrepieces and carving-scarfs formed fine head-gear, and by
the time all the costumes were completed, the clotheslines looked as if
the wash had been taken in after all.
The white-garbed half dozen pranced back to the queen on her throne, and
the ceremonies began.
“First, we sing a dirge,” said Jack Fuller.
“Not a dirge,” said Dolly. “Don’t you mean a chant?”
“Well, some waily kind of a thing, anyway.”
So they all droned an inharmonious series of wailings that might have
been imitative of Chinese tom-toms, only it wasn’t meant to be.
“Now we must have a speech,” said Pinkie; “you make it, Dick; you’re
good at that.”
“All right,” said Dick, and stepping forward, while his tablecloth toga
trailed in the dust, he began:
“Oh, Queen Eliza Dusenbury, we beg you to accept this crown. We want you
for our beloved queen, and we will obey all your rules and reggilations.
We bow our hominage——”
“Homage,” corrected Jack.
“’Taint, it’s hominage! bow, anyway!”
So they all bowed in token of homage to their queen.
“Now we have to back away,” said Maddy; “they always do at court.”
The six backed away from the queen’s throne, but as backing with long
trailing robes is not to be neatly done without practice, they one and
all tripped over their trains and togas and went tumbling around on the
ground.
“Get up, all of you!” cried Dick, who had scrambled to his feet. “Now we
must sing.”
“What shall we sing?”
“I don’t care—‘John Brown’s Body,’ I guess.”
So they all sang “John Brown’s Body” with great gusto, and then the
coronation ceremonies were declared over.
And none too soon, for just then they saw Michael coming with a huge
trayful of good things, which he placed on the table in the arbour.
“Fer the land’s sake!” he exclaimed as the children crowded round.
“Whativer have yez been up to now! The clean clo’es from the line, as
I’m a sinner! Arrah, but ye’ll catch it, ye bad babies!”
“Wow! they did get dirty, didn’t they?” exclaimed Jack, realising for
the first time how they had tumbled about on the ground.
“Yes, they’re all dirt and grass stains. Will your aunts mind, Dolly?”
“I don’t know,” said Dolly, “but anyway it isn’t your fault, any of you.
Let’s take ’em off and eat supper now.”
It was characteristic of Dolly to spare her guests’ feelings, though she
had herself a sudden uneasy sense of naughtiness at having taken the
clean clothes to play with. But it was also her nature to put off an
evil hour, if possible, so the children gaily scrambled out of their
white raiment and sat down to the feast with good appetites.
“The girls is waitin’ on the Readin’ ladies,” said Michael, as he came
out with a second trayful, “so ye’re to wait on yerselves with these
things.”
Then Dolly and Pinkie arranged the table, and soon the group were eating
sandwiches and cakes and strawberries and ice cream, and all the good
things that went to make up a Reading Circle feast.
“The little raskills!” said Michael, as he gathered up the sheets and
garments they had thrown off. “Whativer is the rayson, I dunno, but Miss
Dolly and Masther Dick is just the baddest little shpalpeens I iver saw,
an’ yet I love ’em, ivery breath they draws!”