CONCERNING PHILIP
May sat on a pile of hay in the lower barn, trimming the doll's hat she
had bought in the village, singing as she worked. Three days had passed
since she made the purchase and this was the first opportunity to add
a beautiful feather found in the barn yard and a bow of ribbon to Maud
Madeleine's new head gear. She had drilled every morning with greater
success than had attended her maiden effort, thanks to the General's
increased solicitude and a little device of her own which enabled her
to handle her rifle without fear of instant death.
With feminine strategy she had induced James to take her rifle apart,
then telling him that she would put it together she filled the breech
and the barrel with cotton wool and threw the cartridge under the barn!
As the piece was a safety notch, the subsequent military movements were
executed with a light heart; the General's command to "fall in" was
received with as light a heart as an invitation to "take a chair."
But a problem to the full as interesting as present arms was absorbing
May's thoughts as she sewed: Philip, and how to square accounts with
him.
Philip now made daily visits to the Haines' mansion, and it often
seemed to May that he came solely to bully and tease her. Philip
thought the girl in knickerbockers a very timorous lad; he, therefore,
put forth all his talent for jeering and sneering, with unhappy result.
"He's spoiling for a fight," May said to herself, with unerring
accuracy. "But I should be ashamed to come to blows with a boy,
although I know he's so much of a coward that he would be more scared
than I if we did have a little set-to. I wonder what Gay would do? But
I know; he'd take some of Philip's swagger out of him. Still, I'm not
Gay, if I am wearing his clothes."
Now, as it may be seen, May was not an Amazon nor a miniature virago.
She knew a little about boxing; she had been a pupil of Uncle George,
who had been a student at Harvard College, where he had learned a great
deal about sports, and it is probable that had she overcome her dislike
to fighting she would have taught Philip a wholesome lesson. She was to
teach him one in another and a better way, but she did not know it, and
as she sewed she wrestled with her problem and could not solve it.
While May sat there on the fragrant hay, the afternoon sunshine
streaming in upon her, Philip made his appearance, and so unexpectedly
that she had not time to whisk the hat out of sight.
"Are you sewing?" cried Philip, with a loud laugh.
"Yes," May answered, with a deep blush.
"What an awful sissy you are, anyway! You kiss people; you don't dare
to fight, and you sew! You ought to go into a dime museum!"
"You forgot to mention one other thing."
"What is that?"
"I don't dare to be as rude and disagreeable as a savage."
"Never mind about that; you're a freak without it!"
May laughed; Philip's answer was rather bright and she showed her
appreciation of it.
"You got one on me that time, Philip."
"Where did you learn to sew?" asked Philip, who wanted more fun on this
subject.
"At a kindergarten—you didn't think I was born clever enough to sew,
did you?" said May, pleasantly.
"I once knew another boy that sewed. He died, and he deserved to!"
"Perhaps it may have been just the sewing that made him good enough to
die," May said, laughingly, determined not to lose her temper or show
Philip that he annoyed her.
"I brought over some cigarettes," said Philip, with sudden change of
base. "I'll bet you don't dare to smoke one."
"I dare to but I don't want to. Nasty things!"
"You needn't pretend that you think they're nasty; you're afraid to
take even a whiff."
"I'd be ashamed to take a whiff."
"Why don't you own up that you're a sissy and are afraid it will make
you sick?"
May did not reply. "He isn't worth answering," she thought. "I wish I
wasn't a girl—or if Gay were here, he'd give it to him!"
"I'm going to smoke one. And you've got to, whether you want to or
not." Here Philip thrust a cigarette and a match into May's hand. "Now
light it," he added.
May's reply was to tear the cigarette to pieces and to put the match in
her blouse pocket.
"Will you light this one?" Philip cried, angrily, pressing a second
cigarette into May's hand.
"No!" said May, throwing the cigarette down and setting her heel on it.
"If you are a coward and a girl-boy, why, I can't help it, but I'm
going to smoke."
"If you are a tough and ill-bred, why I can't help it, but I'm not
going to smoke."
After this interchange of opinions Philip lit a match, touched it to
the end of the cigarette with the air of knowing just how it was done,
then threw the blazing match down carelessly on the hay.
"You mustn't be so careless; you might set the barn afire," said May,
jumping up and stamping out the match and a few wisps of blazing hay.
"What a fuss cat!" cried Philip, lighting a card of matches and
throwing them recklessly down.
He meant only to arouse May's resentment, and threw them, as he
supposed, far enough away from the hay, but his estimate of the
distance was incorrect, and the matches fell into a depression in the
hay, and before May could snatch them out little tongues of fire were
darting in every direction.
"Help me, Philip!" she cried, trampling on the flames as she talked.
"We must put it out or the barn will burn. It is full of hay and there
is no water here."
Philip looked at the rapidly spreading flames with frightened eyes,
then he ran out of the barn shouting "Fire!" at the top of his lungs.
The barn was at some distance from the house and no one heard him, so
he kept on running until he reached the house, when he entered the
General's library without ceremony, crying, "Come, quick, Gay's set the
barn on fire!"
[Illustration: MAY FOUGHT THE FIRE HEROICALLY]
"Sarah! call the men; the lower barn is on fire!" shouted the General.
Then he ran out of the house, Philip after him, while Sarah, followed
by Phyllis blowing lustily on the horn that summoned the men-servants
from the fields, brought up the rear.
In the meantime May, with pale cheeks and terrified eyes, was fighting
fire, stamping, trampling and jumping and saying the while, "Why
doesn't somebody come! Why doesn't somebody come!"
A light breeze blowing through the barn fanned the flames until they
were fast getting beyond her control, when she spied some rubber
squares for protecting hay from dew and rain, and seizing one she threw
it over the fire, jumping and even rolling on it until every spark was
extinguished. When the little band headed by the General reached the
barn she was looking ruefully at singed stockings and knickerbockers.
"It's out, Uncle Harold!" May cried. "I guess there's not much damage
done."
"Never mind about the damage, my boy," replied the General.
"Did you get burnt?" Sarah asked, anxiously.
"Not much," said May.
The General was pondering Philip's cry, "Come quick! Gay's set the barn
afire!"
"How did it happen?" questioned the General.
May and Philip were silent: Philip because he didn't want to tell what
he had done; May from a sense of loyalty to Philip; she didn't want to
tell of him.
"How did it happen?" the General repeated.
The children looked at one another; May expecting Philip to speak;
Philip wondering how he could get out of it.
"Gay, why don't you answer me?" said the General, sternly.
"I can't tell you, sir," May answered, meaning that Philip should
understand that it was for him to speak.
Then Philip, prompted by one of those evil impulses that sometimes
assail nobler natures than his, whispered to the General, and very
softly too, for no one else heard him, "He's got a match in his blouse
pocket, now."
The General, as we know, was a man of quick temper; when Philip's
whisper reached his ear he strode forward and thrust his hand in May's
blouse pocket, hoping, it is true, that the match would not be there.
Alas! it was there, and the General drew it forth and held it up before
everybody.
"What do you mean, sir, by refusing to tell me who set the fire when
you did it yourself!" thundered the General. "Why didn't you own up
like a man!"
May threw an appealing glance at Philip, but that young man did not
appear to see it.
"I could have forgiven you your mischief but not your cowardice," said
the General.
"Uncle Harold," said May, "I didn't set——"
"Silence, sir," shouted the General. "Don't criminate yourself further
by falsehood."