ANCIENT FINERY
When the children reached the big open field that was just across the
river from Grandma Sherwood's, although their clothes had ceased
dripping, they were far from dry, and they all shivered in the keen
morning air.
"Yell away, Mopsy," cried King. "You can make Carter hear if anybody
can."
So Marjorie yelled her very best ear-splitting shrieks.
"Car-ter! Car-ter!" she screamed, and the others gazed at her in
admiration.
"Well, you _can_ yell!" said Molly. "I expect my people will hear that!"
After two or three more screams, they saw Carter come running down toward
the boathouse. Looking across the river, he saw the four children
frantically waving their hands and beckoning to him.
"For the land's sake! What is going on now?" he muttered, hurrying down
to the bank as fast as his rheumatic old legs would carry him.
"And the boat's gone!" he exclaimed; "now, however did them children get
over there without no boat? By the looks of their wet clothes they must
have swum over, but I don't believe they could do that. Hey, there!" he
shouted, making a megaphone of his hands.
"Come over and get us," Marjorie yelled back, and beginning to realize
the situation, Carter went into the boathouse and began to take out the
other boat. This was an old flat-bottomed affair, which had been unused
since Uncle Steve bought the new boat.
"Most prob'ly she leaks like a sieve," he muttered, as he untied the boat
and pushed it out; "but I've nothing else to bring the young rascals home
in. So they'll have to bail while I row."
Carter was soon in the old boat, and pulling it across the river. As he
had expected, it leaked badly, but he was sure he could get the children
home in it.
"Come on now!" he cried, as he beached the boat, and jumped out. "For the
land's sake, how did you get so wet? But don't stop to tell me now! Just
pile in the boat, and let me get you home to a fire and some dry clothes.
You'll all have to bail, for she leaks something awful."
Not waiting for a second invitation, the damp quartet scrambled into the
boat, and Carter pulled off. The old man had provided tin cans, and the
children bailed all the way over, for it was necessary to do so to keep
the boat afloat.
As they went, Marjorie told Carter the whole story, "and you see," she
concluded, "we didn't do anything wrong, for we're always allowed to go
in a boat if King is with us."
"Oh, no, Miss Mischief, you didn't do anything wrong! Of course it wasn't
wrong to jump about in the boat and carry on until you upset it! It's a
marvel you weren't all drowned."
"It is so!" said King, who realized more fully than the others the danger
they had been in. "Why, there's Uncle Steve on the dock, and Father, too;
I wonder if they heard Midget scream."
"If they were within a mile and not stone deaf they couldn't help hearing
her," declared Carter. He rowed as fast as he could, and he made the
children keep hard at work bailing, not only to get the water out of the
boat, but because he feared if they sat still they'd take cold.
At last they reached the dock, and Uncle Steve and Mr. Maynard assisted
them out of the boat.
It was no time then for questions or comments, and Uncle Steve simply
issued commands.
"Molly," he said, "you scamper home as fast as you can fly! We have
enough to attend to with our own brood. Scoot, now, and don't stop until
you reach your own kitchen fire, and tell your mother what has happened.
As for you Maynards, you fly to Grandma's kitchen, and see what Eliza can
do for you."
Molly flew off across the lawns to her own house, running so swiftly that
she was out of sight in a moment. Then the Maynards, obeying Uncle
Steve's command, ran to the kitchen door, and burst in upon Eliza as she
was just finishing the breakfast preparations.
"Howly saints!" she cried. "If it wasn't that I always ixpict yees to
come in drownded, I'd be sheared to death! But if yees weren't in this
mess, ye'd be in some other. Such childher I niver saw!"
Eliza's tirade probably would have been longer, but just then Grandma and
Mrs. Maynard came into the kitchen.
"Been for a swim?" asked Mrs. Maynard, pleasantly.
"Almost been drowned," said Kitty, rushing into her mother's arm, greatly
to the detriment of her pretty, fresh morning dress.
As soon as Mrs. Maynard realized that her brood had really been in
danger, she gathered all three forlorn, wet little figures into her arms
at once, thankful that they were restored to her alive.
Then breakfast was delayed while Grandma and Mother Maynard provided dry
clothing, and helped the children to transform themselves once more into
respectable citizens.
"Now tell us all about it, but one at a time," said Uncle Steve, as at
last breakfast was served, and they all sat round the table. "King, your
version first."
"Well, we all went out for an early morning row, and somehow we got to
carrying on, and that round-bottomed boat tipped so easily, that somehow
we upset it."
"It's a wonder you weren't drowned!" exclaimed Grandma.
"I just guess it is!" agreed Marjorie; "and we would have been, only King
saved us! Kitty _was_ 'most drowned, and King went down in the water and
fished her up, and Molly helped a good deal, and I stayed on the other
side and balanced the boat."
"The girls were all plucky," declared King, "and the whole thing was an
accident. It wasn't wrong for us to go out rowing early in the morning,
was it, Father?"
"I don't think it was the hour of the day that made the trouble, my son.
But are you sure you did nothing else that was wrong?"
"I did," confessed Marjorie, frankly. "I splashed water, and then the
others splashed water, and that's how we came to upset."
"Yes, that was the trouble," said Mr. Maynard; "you children are quite
old enough to know that you must sit still in a boat. Especially a
round-bottomed boat, and a narrow one at that."
"It was Molly's fault more than Midget's," put in Kitty, who didn't want
her adored sister to be blamed more than she deserved.
"Well, never mind that," said Marjorie, generously ignoring Molly's part
in the disaster. "There's one thing sure, Kitty wasn't a bit to blame."
"No," said King, "Kit sat quiet as a mouse. She wouldn't upset an
airship. Mopsy and I were the bad ones, as usual, and I think we ought to
be punished."
"I think so, too," said Mr. Maynard, "but as this is a vacation holiday I
hate to spoil it with punishments, so I'm going to wait until you cut
up your next naughty trick, and then punish you for both at once. Is that
a good plan, Mother?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Maynard, looking fondly at the culprits, "but I want to
stipulate that the children shall not go out in the boat again without
some grown person with them."
"I'm glad of that," said Marjorie, "for no matter how hard I try I don't
believe I could sit perfectly still in a boat, so I'll be glad to have
some grownup go along."
"That's my chance," exclaimed Uncle Steve, "I'll take you any time you
want to go, Midget, and I'll guarantee to bring you back without a
ducking."
"Thank you, Uncle Steve," said Marjorie; "shall we go right after
breakfast?"
"Not quite so soon as that, but perhaps to-morrow. By the way, kiddies,
what do you think of having a little party while you're here? That would
keep you out of mischief for half a day."
"Oh, lovely!" exclaimed Marjorie. "Uncle Steve, you do have the
beautifullest ideas! What kind of a party?"
"Any kind that isn't a ducking party."
"But we don't know anybody much to invite," said Kitty.
"Yes, I know quite a few," said Marjorie, "and King knows several boys;
and anyway, Molly and Stella will help us make out a list. How many
shall we have, Uncle Steve?"
"About twenty, I think, and I'll have a hand at that list myself. I know
most of the children around here. This afternoon get Molly and Stella to
come in after school, and we'll make the list. We can send the
invitations to-night, and have the party day after to-morrow. That's
warning enough for such young, young people."
"It seems to be your party, Steve," said Mrs. Maynard, smiling; "can't I
help you with the arrangements?"
"Yes, indeed; you and Mother can look after the feast part of it, but the
rest I'll attend to myself."
After breakfast the children were advised to stay indoors for a while,
lest they get into more mischief, and also until their elders felt that
there was no danger of their taking cold.
"Lucky we didn't have Rosy Posy with us," said King, picking up his
smallest sister, and tossing her up in the air.
"Don't speak of it," said his mother, turning pale at the thought; "and
don't ever take the baby on your escapades. She's too little to go
through the dangers that you older ones persist in getting into."
"Oh, we don't persist," said Marjorie, "the dangers just seem to come to
us without our looking for them."
"They do seem to, Midget," agreed Uncle Steve. "But you all seem to have
a happy-go-lucky way of getting out of them, and I think you're a pretty
good bunch of children after all."
"Listen to that!" exclaimed King, proudly, strutting about the room,
elated with the compliment. "It's worth while having an uncle who says
things like that to you," and the others willingly agreed with him.
Kept in the house, the children wandered about in search of amusement.
Kitty curled herself up on a sofa, with a book, saying she was determined
to keep out of mischief for once.
"Let's go up in the attic," said Midget to King, "and hunt over our old
toys that are put away up there. We might find some nice game."
"All right, come on," and in a minute the two were scrambling up the
attic stairs.
"Gracious! look at that big chest. I never saw that before. Wonder what's
in it," said Marjorie, pausing before a big cedar chest.
"Is it locked?" said King, and lifting the lid he discovered it wasn't.
But it was filled to the brim with old-fashioned garments of queer old
Quaker cut.
"Wouldn't it be fun to dress up in these," cried King.
"Yes," assented Marjorie, "but I'm not going to do it, until we ask
Grandma. I've had enough mischief for one day."
So King ran downstairs and asked Grandma, and soon came running back.
"She says we may," he announced briefly, "so let's choose our rigs."
They lifted out the quaint, old-fashioned clothes, and found there were
both men's and women's garments among them.
"Where do you suppose they came from?" asked Marjorie.
"Grandma said some old relative in Philadelphia sent her the chest, some
time ago, but she's never opened it."
They tried on various costumes, and pranced around the attic, pretending
they were ladies and gentlemen of bygone days.
Finally King tried on a woman's dress. It just fitted him, and when he
added a silk Shaker bonnet and a little shoulder shawl, the effect was so
funny that Marjorie screamed with laughter.
"All you want," she said, "is some false hair in the front of that
bonnet, and you'll be a perfect little old lady."
Then Marjorie ran down to Grandma, and asked her for some of her false
puffs, and getting them, flew back to the attic again, and deftly pinned
them inside of King's bonnet, transforming him into a sweet-faced Quaker
lady.
Then Marjorie arrayed herself as another Quaker lady, drawing her hair
down in smooth bands over her ears, which greatly changed the expression
of her face, and made her look much older. Each carried an old-fashioned
silk reticule, and together they went downstairs. After parading before
their admiring relatives, they decided to play a joke on Eliza. She had
not yet seen them, so they slipped downstairs and out the front door,
and then closing it softly behind them, they rang the bell.
Eliza came to the door, and utterly failed to recognize the children.
"Does Mrs. Sherwood live here?" asked King, in a thin, disguised voice.
"Yes, ma'am," said Eliza, not knowing the children, "but--" gazing in
surprise at the quaint, old-fashioned dresses and bobbing bonnets.
"Please tell her her two aunts from Philadelphia are here," said
Marjorie, but she could not disguise her voice as well as King, and Eliza
suddenly recognized it.
"Two aunts from Phillydelphy, is it?" she said. "More likes it's too
loonytics from Crazyland! What will ye mischiefs be cuttin' up next!
But, faith, ye're the bonny ould ladies, and if ye'll come in and take a
seat, I'll tell the missus ye're here."
But, having fooled Eliza, the fun was over in that direction, and the
Quaker ladies trotted away to make a call on Carter.
Just at first he didn't know them, and thought the two ladies were coming
to see him. But in a moment he saw who they were, and the good-natured
man entered at once into the game.