UNEXPECTED GUESTS
It was when she was passing around gingerbread that Joanne looked up to
see her grandfather and her Cousin Ned coming toward her. She set down
the plate quickly, almost upsetting the contents in Miss Dodge’s lap,
and rushed forward. “Grad!” she cried, “Cousin Ned! When did you come?”
“We’ve been watching you all from a spot here on the hill,” said her
cousin. “What’s the idea? Why this performance with Chico?”
“It’s Chico’s party. He did a fine thing the other day and the boys
have decorated him for it. It has been such fun. Did you see him shake
hands with Mr. Travis?”
“We saw some sort of goings on but we couldn’t make out what it was all
about,” her grandfather told her. “We couldn’t find any one at home at
Clover’s and wandered around a while till we saw something was going on
down in the meadow, so we watched proceedings. How are you, Pickings?”
“Fine as a fiddle.”
Her grandfather held her off and looked her up and down. “You’ve grown;
I declare you’ve grown. You don’t look much fatter, but I vow you have
pink cheeks. July weather and you with pink cheeks; that’s a new state
of things. That will be news for your grandmother.”
“How is Gradda?”
“Very well. She gets up an alarm about you once in a while, but it
doesn’t last long. She is looking forward to seeing you next week.
Ready to go?”
Joanne looked a little rueful. “I want to see Gradda, of course,” she
said, “but I don’t want to leave here. We have had such good times; you
don’t know what fun we have had. The girls are so nice and Miss Chesney
and Miss Dodge are dears.”
“But what’s all this about Chico? What did he do to distinguish
himself?” asked Mr. Pattison.
“Well,” said Joanne, “there was a fire in the woods, and the quickest
way to get help was to let the boys know, so Chico went down a very
steep cliff and the boys got the word. Chico was wonderful. Sometimes
he had to go on his haunches and fairly slide, but he never balked.”
The two men exchanged glances. “Who was riding him?” asked Dr. Selden.
“I don’t suppose he was like Balaam’s ass and could speak for himself.”
Joanne looked down. “Well,” she began, “if you must know I was riding
him.”
Her cousin took her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “You
little monkey! So it was you who saved my timber. I heard about the
fire and that’s why I came up to-day.”
“But you know it was really Chico,” returned Joanne with a little
appealing look at her grandfather whose face showed various emotions.
“I was perfectly safe on Chico, Grad.”
He took her face between his hands and kissed her forehead. “How you do
remind me of your father; it is just the sort of thing he would do.”
Joanne took his arm and cuddled close. “I love to hear you say that,”
she whispered. “Then you’re not angry with me, Grad.”
“How could I be? I am very proud of my brave little lass.”
“Then let’s go and get some gingerbread if there is any left. I want to
show you off to the girls and boys.”
“Such an inducement,” laughed her grandfather.
“Do you think Gradda will mind very much when you tell her?” asked
Joanne.
“Mind what? That you want to show me off?”
Joanne gave his arm a squeeze. “No, you precious goosey-gander, that I
took that ride. You don’t have to tell her exactly how steep the cliff
is, do you?”
“Not if I don’t know, myself. Nevertheless I want to have a look at it.”
“How did you learn about the fire?” Joanne turned to her cousin.
“Dawson told me. Was it a big one, Jo?”
“Not so terribly big, but it might have been if the boys hadn’t taken
hold of it at once. It started in a small clump of trees, no one knows
how, but Mr. Clover thinks some one was lighting a pipe or a cigar and
threw the match away into a pile of dry leaves. There was a little open
space around the trees, fortunately, and that made it easier to keep
the fire back. If it had begun in the thick woods there is no telling
where it would have stopped. As it was, the densest part of the woods
is farther on, so by cutting away the underbrush and ploughing up the
ground it didn’t spread beyond that one spot. I was there and saw it
all; it was very exciting.”
“I’ll be bound for you,” returned Mr. Pattison. “Well, Jo, it seems to
me that you are the fellow who should have had the medal.”
“Oh, no,” protested she, “I had all the fun; that was enough.”
Mr. Pattison laughed, then shook his head, but did not utter what was
in his mind.
By this time they had reached the groups still seated upon the grass
of the meadow. No one seemed inclined to leave so long as the cake and
lemonade lasted. The Scraggses partook liberally and often, while the
boys were not far behind them. No one of these latter, however, but
lay aside his portion of the feast when Dr. Selden and Mr. Pattison
appeared. The former answered their salutes in true military style and
was soon in conversation with Mr. Travis while Mr. Pattison sought out
Mr. Clover, after having thanked the boys for their work in putting out
the fire.
Soon Unc’ Aaron came up hat in hand, bowing low and saying to
Mr. Pattison, “Escuse me, Mistah Ned, suh, but I comes to ax yo’
requirements. Is yo’ recision to congregate hyah to-night or does yuh
return to de city?”
“Why, Unc’ Aaron, I think we shall stay,” was the answer. “Mr. Clover
offers to put us up.”
“Yas, suh, den yuh wants yo’ cyah put in de ca’ige house.”
“Yes, but I’ll see to it myself. I may want to use it before night.”
Unc’ Aaron bowed himself off, Mr. Pattison watching him with a smile.
“I believe the old codger just wanted to show himself off in his dress
up coat,” he said to Joanne. “He certainly is a character. I asked him
once where he got that coat and he said: ‘I jes’ required it, suh,’
and that was all I could get out of him. We’re going over to the burnt
district. Jo, don’t you want to go along?”
“I’d love to, but I shall have to ask permission first, for it is out
of bounds.”
“Oho! so you are under military orders, are you?”
“In a manner. I wasn’t court-martialed the other day when I went off
to signal to the boys about the fire, but then that was a case of
emergency.”
“You signalled, did you, and got it all right?”
“Oh, yes, I have it down fine now.”
“What else have you down fine?”
“Oh, I don’t know; lots of things,” replied Joanne suddenly diffident.
She ran off returning with the permission she asked, and joined her
cousin in front of Mr. Clover’s house where the automobile stood.
When they reached the site of the fire Mr. Pattison looked over the
charred circle where gaunt, blackened stumps stretched leafless arms
toward the sky, and turning to his uncle he said: “That was a pretty
close call. If the fire had gone beyond this grove of trees there
is no knowing where it would have stopped.” Then he looked down at
Joanne. “See here, Pickings,” he continued; “I want you to know that
the freedom of this place is yours so long as I shall own it; the
boys can have a free foot here, too. I give you the keys of the city,
metaphorically speaking. There will not be any ‘no trespassing’ signs
put up for you all. You can gather anything you want, berries, nuts,
flowers, anything that grows on the property, even to a part of my
share of the crops. How’s that, Clover?”
He looked at Mr. Clover who nodded in response. “I reckon they’re
welcome to whatever they want to take, Mr. Pattison. I won’t get out my
shotgun even if I see them in my watermelon patch. They’re mighty good
neighbors to have, Mr. Pattison, mighty good neighbors. I’d like ’em
here the year round.”
Half-way back a punctured tire delayed them, so Joanne and her
grandfather decided to walk on leaving Mr. Clover and Mr. Pattison to
remedy matters on the car.
“Don’t you think I look well, Grad?” inquired Joanne as they set out on
their walk.
“You look fine. How about the headaches?”
“I’ve had only one little one, and that was the day we went
blackberrying and did some canning afterward. I think it was the hot
sun that did it, but it didn’t last long. I got so interested in the
canning, you see, that I forgot about the headache.”
Her grandfather smiled. “That does happen sometimes, but I wouldn’t
defy the sun too often.”
“Oh, no, I don’t; Miss Dodge sees to that. Don’t you like her and isn’t
Miss Chesney a dear? The girls are dears, too. I never knew how nice
girls could be, nor boys either, for that matter. We have had such good
times together and I have come to know them all so well. It is such a
comfort to have real intimate friends like Winnie and Claudia; I never
had any before, you know. I have learned such a lot from them,” she
added reflectively.
“I appreciate all that,” returned Dr. Selden. “It hasn’t seemed
possible under the circumstances, to give you these opportunities
before, but certainly we are on the right track now. It was a great day
when we met Mrs. Marriott, wasn’t it?”
Joanne gave a little sigh as she said: “It was a great day, for I met
the queen of women, the heroine of my dreams, but I’m afraid I shall
never, never see her again.”
Her grandfather smiled. “Such a sentimental puss! You don’t seem to be
the same girl as that one who went dashing down the cliff on Chico.”
Joanne laughed. “Win says I am more kinds of a girl than any one she
knows; that most people have dual natures but that mine is polygonal.”
Her grandfather laughed, too. “I hope she doesn’t mean that you have
many angles.”
“Oh, no, I should hope not, too; she means I am many-sided, and I
suppose I am.”
“Don’t try to analyze yourself too closely, my dear. Just try to do
what is right and leave the dissection of your character to some one
else.”
“But one has to think about one’s self sometimes, don’t they?”
“Of course, so far as to question whether you are doing right or not,
but to go too far in self-examination leads to morbidness, which isn’t
a good thing. I think I’ll turn off here and go down to see Pablo and
Unc’ Aaron. You run along to the lodge and I’ll see you there later.”
Joanne obeyed while her grandfather walked on saying to himself: “The
child has been too much with grown people. The best thing that could
have happened to her is this association with girls of her own age,
boys too, for that matter. As for the Girl Scout idea, well, it is the
greatest thing out.”
Joanne, meanwhile, went on to the meadow, which she found deserted
except by Mr. Clover’s cows which had been turned out after the milking
hour. From farther on came sounds of applause, laughter, music. Joanne
hurried ahead to come upon a merry crowd gathered in front of the
lodge. The boys were still there in force, the girls, too, but added
to these were Pablo and Unc’ Aaron. The latter was nimbly dancing a
breakdown to the music of Jimmy Carey’s banjo. At every new exhibition
of agility, at each wonderful step the applause broke forth, which
excited the old darkey to greater feats, until he stopped from sheer
exhaustion, just as Joanne reached the spot.
“Oh, Unc’ Aaron,” she cried, “why didn’t you wait till I got here?”
“How I know yuh comin’, little lady?” the old man gasped out.
“Oh, but won’t you do it over again?” begged Joanne.
“Bref all gone, honey chile. I is too ole fo’ sech extenuations of
preformance. Wait twel I gits mah win’ again.”
“Then somebody else do something while Unc’ Aaron rests,” said Joanne.
“You, Pablo.”
Pablo shrugged his shoulders and gesticulated with outspread hands in
protest. “I? what is it that I can do like to this old?” he said.
“You can play the guitar and sing a Spanish song, I know you can,
and I am sure you can dance; every Spaniard dances. Now don’t say you
cannot dance for us.”
To hear was to obey when it was Joanne who commanded. Chet was quick
to offer his guitar and Pablo strummed a mournful accompaniment to a
melancholy song all about graveyards and tombs, but as no one except
Joanne understood it, the effect was not as bad as it might have been,
and Pablo received respectful thanks.
“Now the dance,” Joanne said. “Can’t somebody play a sort of Spanish
dance? I wish we had castanets, then the music wouldn’t matter.”
“You play a Spanish dance, Chet,” said Miss Chesney; “that little thing
that I like, you know.”
“Oh, yes.” Chet turned up his guitar and began. Pablo soon caught the
rhythm and started a pretty dance.
Presently Unc’ Aaron, who was listening intently with head cocked to
one side, drew from his pocket an assortment of treasures such as a
rabbit’s foot, a dried potato and a pair of bones. He restored the
first two articles and then began to manipulate the bones so that they
clacked in accord with the music of the guitar, Unc’ Aaron keeping time
with foot and head.
While this was going on Dr. Selden appeared, but was not noticed by the
performers as he sat down some distance away. Joanne stole around and
sat down beside him. “It sounds just like castanets, doesn’t it?” she
whispered.
He nodded, and joined in the applause.
“Now, Unc’ Aaron, it’s your turn again,” cried Joanne.
But Unc’ Aaron had caught sight of Dr. Selden and said with much
dignity: “Yuh-alls has to escuse me dis time. I been amusin’ dese yer
chilluns, doctah, suh, jes’ fo’ dey relectation. Jes’ kickin’ up some
little monkey shines to mek ’em laugh. ’Tain’t my customs to so do.”
“I understand, Unc’ Aaron, I understand,” replied Dr. Selden trying to
keep his face straight. “We older ones have to consider the children
sometimes.”
Unc’ Aaron bowed grandly and walked off with great dignity to the
intense amusement of those he left behind. Pablo, however, who was
nothing if not loyal, quickly followed the old man, but before he
caught up with him encountered Mr. Pattison.
“What’s been going on down there?” inquired that gentleman.
“Some musics and dances,” returned Pablo.
“Yes, yes. Sorry I missed it. Who were the dancers, Pablo? You?”
“For one, I; also the Unc’ Aaron.”
“You don’t say so! The old codger!” Mr. Pattison turned and called:
“Here, Unc’ Aaron, I want to speak to you.”
Unc’ Aaron retraced his steps and came up, hat in hand. “Yas, suh,
Mistah Ned. Has yuh desiahs to speak to me?”
“Yes. What’s this I hear about you dancing? An old fellow like you.
Aren’t you ashamed to be setting such an example? I’m surprised at you;
it’s scandalous.” Mr. Pattison spoke with assumed severity.
Unc’ Aaron eyed him for a moment to make sure that he was not in fun,
but Mr. Pattison kept a grave face difficult though he found it to do
so. “Yuh reads de good Book, Mistah Ned?” asked Unc’ Aaron presently.
“Read the Bible? Why, of course.”
“Den yuh knows what de good Book say. Good Book say: mus’ not jedge,
Mistah Ned, mus’ not jedge.”
This was too much for Mr. Ned. He threw back his head and laughed
heartily. “You’re too much for me, Unc’ Aaron,” he said. “Here’s
fifty cents for you, and Pablo, here’s a quarter for you.” So saying
the young man went down-hill to repeat the conversation to the young
people, while Unc’ Aaron walked on chuckling.
This was the last frolic of the season, for in a few days the little
lodge was deserted and the girls scattered, north, south, east and
west, not to meet again till autumn.
Joanne and her grandfather joined Mrs. Selden at a small hotel in the
mountains, a short distance from where Mrs. Ned Pattison’s sister
lived. One could scarcely call it a hotel, though it was dignified
by the name of Laurel Inn, for it was simply a rambling old house to
which a wing had been added, and which afforded room for about twenty
guests. It was kept by two sisters who prided themselves upon the class
of their boarders. It suited Mrs. Selden exactly. She enjoyed sitting
on the broad porch with other elderly ladies who swayed back and forth
in their rocking chairs, chatted amiably over their fancy work, and
exchanged patterns for tatting or crocheted lace.
Poor little Joanne found it rather dull after the companionship of
her girl friends. But she had made a steady resolve to be cheerful no
matter what, and had determined to work at certain tests so that she
might win more badges when the time came. So one might find her any
time sitting under a tree poring over her Morse code or studying her
First Aid textbook.
Among the young married women were several with small children. Most
of these had nurses with them, but one rather delicate looking mother
cared for her child herself. Joanne noticed that when almost every one
else went off for a nap in the afternoon, Mrs. Hooper sat out with her
little boy, keeping him as far from the house as she could in order
that he might not disturb the nappers. One rainy day, however, they
were housed, and it was as much as Mrs. Hooper could do to keep the
little one quiet.
Joanne, sitting in a corner reading, looked up once in a while to see
the baby fretting and his mother trying her best to entertain him.
Finally Joanne could stand it no longer. Down went her book and she
hurried to where Mrs. Hooper sat by the window.
“Let me play with Bertie a while, won’t you?” she said.
“Why, my dear, I’m afraid he will bother you,” returned Mrs. Hooper.
“Oh, no, he won’t,” Joanne assured her. “Let us see how it works, and
if he fusses I’ll give in.”
“These rainy days are so trying,” returned Mrs. Hooper. “Bertie gets so
restless when he can’t go out.”
“I get restless myself,” Joanne answered. “My grandmother thinks I will
melt away entirely if a raindrop falls on me, not that she thinks I am
made of sugar, but of some very meltable material.”
Mrs. Hooper laughed. “You certainly are sweet to offer to amuse my boy.
I don’t like to take him out on the sun porch where the other children
and the nurses are; he is so little, and I don’t enjoy the society
of the nurses particularly. Probably they wouldn’t enjoy mine, so I
generally keep Bertie to myself.”
In a short time Master Bertie became so satisfied with his entertainer
that his mother absorbed herself in a book, but finally put back her
head against the chair and closed her eyes.
“Poor dear,” said Joanne to herself, “I don’t suppose she ever has a
chance to take a nap, for the baby has his in the morning, and who but
a baby wants to sleep at ten o’clock?” A sudden thought struck her.
“Good!” she cried, “I’ll see if I can’t make a bargain!”
She played with Bertie till sounds from the various rooms overhead
showed the naps were over and that the ladies were arraying themselves
for evening. Then Mrs. Hooper came over to where the two were.
“I really believe I have had forty winks,” she said, “and it has done
me a lot of good. Bertie wakes me up pretty early and I don’t often get
a chance to nap. Has he been a good boy?”
“Good as gold,” replied Joanne. “He is a darling, and we have had a
real good time, haven’t we, Bertie?”
Bertie looked up solemnly at his mother. “S’e was a g’eat big bear,” he
said, “but s’e couldn’t get me ’cause I lived under a s’air.”
“You certainly have the faculty of amusing a child,” said Mrs. Hooper,
“and you don’t know how I thank you.”
“I liked it,” said Joanne simply, “and I wish you would let me strike a
bargain with you. Won’t you please let me take care of Bertie two hours
a day? Then you could have a nap and I could win my badge for Child
Nursing. You see I am a Girl Scout and that is one of the tests I want
to take. I’m just bent and determined to be a Golden Eaglet, and I’m
working awfully hard to get all the badges I shall have to have. This
would give me a fine chance, so it would be a fair exchange.”
“Why, my dear child, it seems to me that I shall be getting the best of
the bargain.”
“Oh, no, you won’t. It will be fine for me, for I don’t see how I could
ever take two hours for a whole month, except in vacation time when
there is no school. I should be too busy after I go back to the city.”
Mrs. Hooper was thoughtful for a moment, then she said: “Very well, I
agree on one condition, and that is you are to select any two hours a
day that may be most convenient. You might not want to be tied down
every afternoon; you might want to go somewhere, or do something; in
that case you must feel perfectly free to come and tell me. If you
agree to do this I will accept your very generous offer.”
“All right,” responded Joanne, “only it isn’t generous; it is quite
selfish, for it works out for my benefit.”
“And mine,” insisted Mrs. Hooper.
So from this time on Joanne became Bertie’s self-instituted nurse for a
part of every day, and became so attached to the really lovable little
fellow that she regretted giving him up when the time came that she
must.