THE IDOL TOTTERS
Gay was sent home in an improvised ambulance, a farm wagon filled with
hay. His arm was broken, and it proved to be an ugly fracture. But when
it was set the doctor said,—
"You bore it bravely, Miss May—better than most boys."
The doctor's praise was sweet to Gay and he smiled faintly in reply; he
was too weak to answer with his usual animation.
The Hazelnooks and even the Plainville boys and Ethel and Julia
followed Gay to Rose Cottage and were waiting on the porch for the
doctor, and when they saw him they cried in one voice,—
"How is she?"
"Weak, but she bore it like a hero, boys!" replied the jolly doctor.
"You will have to stand on your own merits next time; May won't play
ball again this summer—the little Amazon!"
"We want to see her, doctor, please," said Lyman.
"I don't please—not for two days," said the doctor.
They murmured loudly against this. "Just let us see her!" they pleaded.
"Just a peep!"
"Not a peep!" answered the doctor, firmly. Then the big, bluff man
looked grave. "It is for your friend's good," he added.
And they said no more about it, but went away quietly and with sober
faces. It was during these two days that the Hazelnook boys and girls
found out how well they liked their friend.
"She's so honest and square," said Robert.
"And so full of fun and pluck," said Will.
"So bright and pretty," said Julia.
"Not a frill," said Ned.
"The jolliest girl I've ever seen," said Ethel.
"The finest girl living," said Fred.
"As deep as they make them," said Lyman. "Who else would have said
about the Radical to the minister?"
Thus they spoke of the prankish boy with vast admiration and affection,
and "May's" remarks and "May's" performances were reported by these
young people to their elders and these, also, began to discuss "May
Walcott" and to regard her as a clever, if unconventional girl. Even
the judge's mother, who, since Gay's descent from the coach, had
prophesied gloomily that "Miss Linn's niece would mortify her to
death" suddenly changed her tune and declared that she had always liked
the fresh, breezy ways of the child, and that she had known from the
first that "May" was destined to be popular.
"Young people nowadays," quoth the judge's mother to the doctor's wife,
"like somebody that has some life."
"She certainly has made those rough village boys quite gentlemanly,"
admitted the doctor's wife.
These rumors and rumors of rumors reached the ears of the Misses Linn
and had much influence in reconciling them to their supposed niece's
accident on the ball-field. They may have thought that it would not do
to criticise such a popular young person, at all events they uttered no
word of reproach, but devoted themselves lovingly to the care of the
invalid.
The doctor came every day, and upon more than one occasion he found his
patient—alas for romance—decidedly cross.
"Oh, Doctor, if I might just sit on the porch and see the boys!"
pleaded Gay, the second day after the accident.
"Will you promise to keep quiet and not try to do any left-handed acts?"
"Not an act—if you'll only let me go."
"Well, look out for your arm!" said the doctor, warningly, for Gay ran
out of the room with a cry of delight, without waiting for further
instructions.
No sooner was Gay seated on the porch than visitors sprang up as if by
magic from all sides. The truth was, Lyman was watching outside the
gate to get the first word from the doctor, and when Gay appeared Lyman
notified Will, who told Robert, who told Ned, who in his turn imparted
the knowledge to Ethel, who informed Julia, and at length all his
friends in Hazelnook were clustered around the invalid.
Then what a hubbub there was! Everybody talked at once. Everybody
laughed at once. There was so much rejoicing that at length they became
quiet from sheer exhaustion, and the air about was as silent as it is
when a noisy machine suddenly ceases its motion.
"I'm cold!" announced Gay, suddenly.
"Then you must go right into the house," said Miss Celia, greatly
agitated. "You can find something in there to amuse your friends."
The young people went in, leaving the aunts on the porch, and soon the
sound of lively music was heard.
"I hope May will be careful of her arm," said Miss Celia, anxiously.
"Celia, who is that coming up the drive?" said Miss Linn, without
heeding her sister's remark.
"I don't know," Miss Celia answered. Then, for the first time in her
life she took the initiative; impelled by an impulse she could not have
explained, she left the porch and went to meet the persons who were
rapidly approaching.
The unknown visitors presented an extremely picturesque appearance as
they advanced. The General, for of course it was he, in holiday attire,
was leading May, who wore one of the "little great-aunt's" frocks,
which looked for all the world, so faithfully does Fashion repeat
herself, as though it had been designed by a modern artist.
"Madam," said the General, bowing profoundly, "have I the honor to
address Miss Celia Linn?"
"Yes," murmured Miss Celia.
"I am General Haines, of Cedarville," began the General.
"Don't you know Aunt Celia? I'm May," interrupted May.
"May!" repeated Miss Celia, looking closely at the young visitor for
the first time.
"May Walcott," May answered, with a smile, that was strangely familiar
to Miss Celia.
"We have one May Walcott with us now," said Miss Celia, visibly dazed.
"Allow me to explain," said the General.
But there was no time for explanations. At that time Gay, followed by
the boys and girls agape with curiosity, came running forward as fast
as his disabled condition would permit, and kissed May warmly.
Then the twins stood side by side, and everybody exclaimed at the
resemblance.
"Could you tell them apart?"
"Except for the arm."
"And the dress."
"The same eyes!"
"Mouth!"
"Hair!"
"I cannot understand it," said Miss Celia; "these are certainly
Elinor's twins, but how does it happen that both are girls?"
"I'll tell you——" Gay began.
"Let us go in the house," said Miss Celia, taking the real May by the
hand and giving the General, who still held May's other hand, a smile
that made him feel that life was as fair as the dawn of spring.
Miss Linn met them at the hall door, but no one thought to introduce
her, and she followed them into the drawing-room, where Gay told the
story of the masquerade with which we are already familiar.
"What!" they cried, when he was finished, "are you a boy?"
"Yes—thank goodness!" said Gay, piously.
[Illustration: GAY CAME RUNNING FORWARD]
"I'm glad that you are a boy," said Miss Linn, with a sigh of relief;
"it explains a good many things."
"My actions?" said Gay. "Oh, it was awful, I can tell you. It is
just like waiting to sneeze in church when you know all the time you
mustn't, to try to be a girl when you are really a boy!"
There was a general laugh at Gay's comparison, in which it might have
been noticed the Hazelnook young people joined very faintly. After
a slight pause Lyman arose; his companions rose, also, for by some
mysterious method of communication they knew that they were in sympathy
with what he was about to say.
"I think," he said, slowly, but with suppressed feeling, "that it was a
pretty crooked thing to deceive us deliberately by making us think that
you were a fine girl. It can't help making a difference in our opinion
of you, and I guess we'd better say good-by."
Lyman bowed to the company, the others did the same, then, like icicles
under the noonday heat of the sun, they melted away out of the room.
When the little maid, in the quaint old-time frock, saw the favorite
thus stripped of favor she put her arms about his neck and whispered—
"You have me, no matter what happens. Don't fuss," she added, for she
had learned the lesson of patience. "If they really like you it will
come out all right."
"I don't know about it," said Gay, gloomily. "I'm afraid I'm frozen out
altogether."
And not until that moment did Gay realize how highly he valued his
popularity.