CHAPTER II—THE CUSTIS WEDDING PARTY
CHAPTER III—MARTHA CUSTIS’ STORY
CHAPTER IV—WASHINGTON THE GENERAL
CHAPTER V—THE BOSTON TEA PARTY
CHAPTER VI—THE BATTLE OF BOSTON
CHAPTER VII—BATTLES ABOUT NEW YORK
CHAPTER VIII—EARNING THE PRIZES
CHAPTER IX—THE ARMY WINS UNIFORMS
[Illustration: “OH, I’VE GOT IT ALL PLANNED OUT”—DECLARED GEORGE.]
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS’ RELATIVES
BY
LILLIAN ELIZABETH ROY
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
Made in the United States of America
Copyright, 1918, by
THE PLATT & NOURSE COMPANY
THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS’ RELATIVES
CHAPTER I
THE CITY COUSINS
“I heard the automobile horn, Martha!” shouted George Parke, jumping
from the newel post of the front veranda steps, where he had perched
himself to await the Philadelphia cousins who were expected that
morning.
“I didn’t hear anything but Jim squealing ’cause his mammy won’t let him
peek around the corner of the house,” scorned Martha Parke, his sister,
a year and a half younger than George.
“Well, it’s time for them to be here, anyway,” argued George, with the
usual finality of a boy past ten years of age.
“I wonder what they look like. Can you remember either one when we
visited Philadelphia five years ago?” ventured Martha.
“All I can remember is Anne having yellow hair and her pinafore always
twisted in her hands, and Jack going around with that little paper mat
that he wove in kindergarten school his first day. Don’t you remember
how he took it to bed with him, and all the red paper came off on his
pillow during the night when he breathed on it, and his mother thought
he was bleeding at the nose and mouth?” and George laughed at the dim
recollections of five years ago.
“Oh, yes, I remember that! Wasn’t it funny when his nurse scrubbed and
scrubbed to get the red dye from his face, and all the soap-suds got in
his mouth so’s he yelled and fought!” laughed Martha also.
“And don’t you remember the day we were left alone to play while aunty
took mother to the opera—we couldn’t go out ’cause it rained so hard,
and we began sliding down the marble end of the bath tub? That was
fun—just like winter when the snow is on the ground,” reminded Martha.
“Yes, and then two of us tried to slide down at the same time and got
stuck in the bottom of the tub. Jack was bigger, so he pulled himself
out, and in doing so managed to turn on the faucet. My, but wasn’t I wet
that day!” roared George, slapping his knee.
“Oo-oh, but do you remember how Uncle Fred scolded when he saw the
scratches our shoes had made in the porcelain tub?” breathed Martha,
still fearful of that escapade.
“Ha, ha! Martha, do you remember the day we went to the zoo and fed
peanuts to the monkeys? Wasn’t that funny when the chimpanzee caught
Anne’s little straw hat and carried it to the top of the cage and put it
on his own head? I’ll never forget how we all screamed to him to bring
it back—as if the monkey understood us.”
“Even the animal trainer couldn’t make him give it back, and Aunt Ally
begged him to leave it, as she would not take it again, anyway,”
chuckled Martha, picturing the scene again.
“That was a fine visit, Martha—eh?” said George, looking at his sister
for smiling approval.
“Yes, and I’ve been thinking, George, we ought to give our cousins just
as good a time while they visit us here,” said the little girl.
“Oh, I’ve got it all planned out—you wait and see!” declared George.
“You have? Oh, you never said a word to me about it! Do tell me what it
is.”
“Well, in the first place, we have to take them all over and introduce
them to John Graham and his place,” said George, counting off the plan
on his fingers.
“Uh-huh—and don’t forget Jim. We must introduce Jim, you know,” reminded
Martha.
“Da’s right! Yo’ all jus’ cough when yo’ want’s me an’ Ah’ll pop right
out. I’se hidin’ heah now whar mammy cain’t see me,” came a hoarse
whisper from the Virginia creeper vine at the side of the porch.
“Oo-oh, you there, Jim—come out and let’s plan things,” called George,
running over to drag out a seven-year-old pickaninny who was their
constant shadow and general factotum,—especially so when there was
mischief brewing, for Jim always was the scapegoat.
Jim resisted for a few moments, as he feared his mammy’s large, flat
hand; but George assured him that as he was invited to be present at the
reception of the city cousins it was all right with mammy.
“As I was telling Martha—we must plan some great fun for our cousins’
visit here, ’cause they gave us such a good time when we were little
children,” explained George, now an _old man_ past the age of ten.
“First we’re going to show them all over the place—take them over to
John’s and everywhere,” added Martha, explaining.
“An’ show dem whar we-all had th’ homestead fire at th’ back uv th’
lot,” reminded Jim, feeling tenderly of his now fuzzy new crop of hair
grown since his other locks had been sizzled off.
“And don’t forget to tell them all about the battle we had with John and
his cousins at Fort Duquesne that day. Of course they will see the
broken-down hedge and wonder at it—then we can tell them all about the
fun without bragging,” giggled Martha.
“We’re not through with that affair yet, either,” added George. “I read
in our history this morning that Braddock was _not_ killed that same
day, but Washington pulled him out of the fight and tried to save his
life, and for that great deed, General Braddock bequeathed his wonderful
charger and also his body-servant, Bishop, to Washington. After that
Washington always rode that favorite horse and Bishop went everywhere
the general went.”
“I’se kin be Bishop, Marser Garge! Cain’t we borrer John’s pony for th’
charger some day when we-all play tha’ battle agin?” asked Jim eagerly.
“Sure! That’s what I planned,” quickly added George, to cover any
delighted surprise he felt at Jim’s novel idea.
“Then, when we get all through with showing our cousins how we fought
that ambush of Indians, when Jim hit John on the stiff beaver with the
hatchet, we can finish the play. There’s lots to be played out in that
battle. For instance, we buried Braddock right off, you see, and we
ought to have dragged him away while the Indians tried to scalp him. We
can let him die after we get him to a settlement, and bury him decently
with a fine funeral. Think of all the fun we can have putting John down
in a real hole and throwing flowers on top of him!” planned George
zealously.
“No, George, that won’t be nice! We mustn’t play things like that at
all! I hate to see funerals and hear people cry, and I never want to
make-believe any such thing!” objected Martha.
“‘Sides, Garge, yo’ mommer’ll punish yo’ agin ef we put John in the
groun’ and play he’s daid!” warned Jim ominously.
“And we can kill John by just pretending we did and jump that grave
scene,” quickly suggested Martha.
“We-el, you two are too young for such play, I s’pose, but it would have
been great to creep out to the back hedge some dark night and do that
Braddock death-bed scene with John! I’d be reading the service from a
book, and the rest of you could be weeping and wringing your hands while
Jim dropped John in the grave. Then we’d cover him with bushes and
things so’s the Indians couldn’t find him—they wanted his scalp, you
know,” sighed George, as he reluctantly sacrificed the impressive scene
at the urgent request of his two companions.
“Then what? When we finish Braddock what shall we play?” asked Martha.
“Then it will be time for us to use those old-fashioned costumes we
found in the attic the day Jim came down the rope and thought he was
killed. We must have George getting married now—’cause he must begin the
American Revolution and do lots of things that he did after he was
married. Of course, I could play all he did without getting married, but
as long as you’re here and will want to play with us, I’ll marry you,
and then leave you at Mount Vernon while I go and have a good time
fighting with the boys,” generously said George to Martha.
“She didn’t! Martha Custis didn’t stay at home! She followed the general
when he camped in the winters, and did lots of fine things for the
soldiers in the army. I’m going to play the same thing, and if you won’t
let me I won’t marry you at all. I’ll get Jack to play husband instead,
and I’ll marry him, so there!”
“But, Martha, you can’t! Don’t you see no one but Washington would do
for Martha Custis?—and besides, Jack must act another part, so he
couldn’t marry you even if I’d let him!” argued George, anxious over a
possible refusal of his suit to Martha.
“Ah don’ see dat dat’s any fun—jes’ gettin’ dressed up in dat finery in
de attic an’ gettin’ married. It’s heaps moh fun playin’ war and bein’
Injuns!” sneered Jim, who always was the Indian in these wars.
“Oh, Jim! It will be lots of fun! You’ll be the cook to fix the fine
party dinner, and Jack can play minister. John and Anne will be my
children and Washington’s step-children, you know,” explained Martha.
“Kin we-all git some cookies an’ watermelyon fer de party?” asked Jim
with sudden interest.
“Sure! I’ll get mother to ask mammy for some, and besides I’ll find some
more good things to eat. John can bring some, too, and we can have a
make-believe stove and cook lots of fine things that they had at that
wedding supper,” replied George.
“Den Ah’ll play cook!” agreed Jim.
“S-sh! I know I heard a horn that time!” cried Martha.
“So’d I! And see—down by the road that runs over the bridge of the
creek—there comes the car!” shouted George, forgetting his wedding
arrangements and wars in the imminent joy of seeing his cousins who were
coming to have a long visit at the Parkes’ home.
As you remember, George and Martha Parke were the two children who
played the youthful life of George Washington, in the first book called
“Little Washingtons.”
Their home was situated in the beautiful country suburbs of Washington,
D. C., and being descended in one line of the illustrious Parke family
of Washington fame, naturally these children loved to hear all about the
great American general’s life. In September of that year Mrs. Parke
began reading the history of George Washington’s life—beginning with his
introduction when he chopped down the cherry tree.
In the first book George and Martha Parke had heard read, and then
applied to their play, the destruction of the homestead where George was
born, the boy’s education, his surveying trips and camp, and finally the
battle under General Braddock, when the latter was killed at Fort
Duquesne.
Then, just as the two children found the old-fashioned costumes (while
being shut in the attic for punishment for ruining the hedge at that
momentous battle) and Jim crept out of the attic window and found
himself on the ground, the story ended. But it starts again in this book
with the Parke children watching for their cousins’ arrival.
John Graham, the next-door neighbor of the Parke children, had not been
heard from or seen that morning, but Jim, the only child of mammy, the
cook in the Parkes’ household, was on hand to welcome the expected
visitors; then, just as the machine turned in at the stone gateway to
roll up the driveway, John Graham rushed breathlessly up from the side
lawn.
“Aren’t they here yet?” called John eagerly.
“Just comin’!” cried George, never taking his eyes from the
fast-approaching automobile.
“Heigh—hello there!” shouted a boy’s voice, as a smiling face showed
beaming over the side of the limousine.
“Hello, Jack! We’re glad to see you!” cried George, jumping down the
steps to reach the terrace where the car stopped.
Martha followed after her brother, but Jim and John stood in the
background, watching and wondering at the two strangers. The four
cousins found they were not shy at all, and in fact, as they still
retained the looks of former times, they soon felt very much at home
with one another. Jack was a year the senior of George, and Anne was
about a year older than Martha.
The Philadelphia children had lost none of their fun-loving
dispositions, although Mrs. Parke had hoped they had developed into
models of perfection. So this visit promised to be of great importance
to the “Little Washingtons” in many ways. Hence the warm welcome
bestowed by George and Martha, and later by John Graham and the
factotum, Jim.
Mrs. Davis greeted her little niece and nephew affectionately, then she
followed Mrs. Parke up the veranda steps and into the house.
“Have you got to change your clothes before we do anything?” asked
George, who wore his second-best suit and clean blouse-shirt.
“Oh, I guess not. We’re all dusty from travelling anyway, so a little
more dust won’t hurt any,” laughed Jack.
“And mother said my dress had to go straight in the tub, ’cause I upset
a glass of choklate soda all down the front,” added Anne, spreading out
the dimity ruffled dress to show her companions.
“Come on then and see the place. Jim’s got a rabbit hutch at the barns,
and John’s going to lend us his pony when we want to use it in our
play,” explained George, leading the group over the lawn by walking
backward in front of them.
Martha skipped on one side of the two new arrivals, and John Graham on
the other side, while Jim, the dark shadow, followed closely at their
heels.
“Say, you’ve got a dandy place for fun, haven’t you?” admired Jack,
gazing around at the wide expanse of lawns and gardens at the rear of
the estate.
“Yes, but they always find us out just when we’re having the finest
time!” sighed John dolefully.
Jack laughed. “I’m sure they wouldn’t find me if I lived here! But Anne
and I only have a yard in a city block. The front steps from the door go
right down to the sidewalk, and there’s a little patch of grass in front
of the basement windows, with an area-way going to the back kitchen. We
have only as much open space on each side of our house as from here to
there.” As he explained, Jack showed a distance of five feet in front of
him.
“But you have the loveliest park only a few blocks away—and the museums,
and zoo, and lots of things we haven’t!” said George enviously.
“You can’t have fun in the zoo or a museum as you can in the open like
this place; but we’ll make up here for not having the place in
Philadelphia, won’t we, Anne?” laughed Jack.
“Yes, if George and Martha won’t have to spend all the time at lessons,”
said Anne anxiously.
“Oh, no, we were going to have a private teacher at home because the
only school is so far away from us in winter, but the house-teacher
mother engaged was taken sick and couldn’t come as soon as expected, so
mother has been hearing our lessons and reading history to us. Now that
your mother is visiting here, mother won’t have as much time to hear our
lessons, see?” explained Martha eagerly.
“And we can have all the more time for fun,” added George.
“How about you, John?” asked Jack, turning to the little neighbor boy.
“Oh, I was going to join George and Martha at their house for lessons
this year—my mother and their mother arranged it, you see, ’cause we are
distantly related, too, but now I don’t have to study, either!” said
John with satisfaction.
“Then we’re all free for a fine time! You see, it just happened that the
same week our school opened, the measles broke out so bad that they had
to close again for a short time; and as every one we knew got the
measles, mother hurried us off for a visit until the thing is over
again,” laughed Jack, feeling very happy over the consequences of the
epidemic.
“Fine!” declared George, turning to lead the way to the last scene of
battle—the broken-down hedge between the Grahams’ and Parkes’ country
estates.