CALLING AT THE SCHOOLHOUSE
"Good-morning, ladies," he said, bowing gravely, "I'm very pleased to see
you. May I ask your names?"
"Mrs. William Penn and Mrs. Benjamin Franklin," said Marjorie, "and we
have come to look at your flowers."
"Yes, ma'am; they do be fine this year, ma'am. Happen you raise flowers
yourself?"
"No, not much," said King, "we don't raise anything."
"Except when you raise the mischief," declared Carter, laughing at
the prim faces before him. "I'm thinkin' if you'd always wear those
sober-colored dresses you mightn't lead such a rambunctious life."
"That's so," said King, kicking at his skirts. "But they're not easy to
get around in."
"I think they are," said Marjorie, gracefully swishing the long folds of
her silk skirt. "Come on, King, let's go over and see Stella; we haven't
seen her yet."
"Miss Stella's gone to school," Carter informed them. "I saw her go by
with her books just before nine o'clock. And if you ladies can excuse me
now, I'll be going back to my work. If so be ye fall in the river or
anything, just you scream, Miss Marjorie, and I'll come and fish you
out."
"We don't fall in twice in one day," said Marjorie, with dignity, and the
two Quaker ladies trailed away across the lawn.
They went down into the orchard, to pay a visit to Breezy Inn. This was
Marjorie's tree-house which Uncle Steve had had built for her the year
before.
But the rope ladder was not there, so they could not go up, and they
wandered on, half hoping they might meet somebody who would really think
they were Quaker ladies. Crossing the orchard, they came out on one of
the main streets of the town, and saw not far away, the school which
Stella and Molly attended.
Marjorie had a sudden inspiration. "Let's go to the school," she said,
"and ask for Stella and Molly!"
"Only one of them," amended King; "which one?"
"Stella, then. We'll go to the front door, and we'll probably see the
janitor, and we'll ask him to call Stella Martin down."
"I think we'd better send for Molly."
"No, Molly would make such a racket. Stella's so much quieter, and I
don't want to make any trouble."
They reached the schoolhouse, which was a large brick building of three
or four stories. The front door was a rather impressive portal, and the
children went up the steps and rang the bell.
"You do the talking, King," said Marjorie. "You can make your voice sound
just like an old lady."
The janitor appeared in answer to their ring, and looked greatly amazed
to see two old Quaker ladies on the doorstep. The children kept their
heads down, and the large bonnets shaded their faces.
"We want to see Miss Stella Martin," said King, politely, and the clever
boy made his voice sound like that of an elderly lady.
"Yes'm," said the janitor, a little bewildered. "Will you come in?"
"No," said King, "we won't come in, thank you. Please ask Miss Stella
Martin to come down here. Her two aunts from Philadelphia want to see
her."
The janitor partly closed the door, and went upstairs to Stella's
classroom.
"We fooled him all right!" chuckled King, "but what do you suppose Stella
will say?"
"I don't know," said Midget, thoughtfully; "you never can tell what
Stella will do. She may think it's a great joke, and she may burst out
crying. She's such a funny girl."
In a moment Stella came down. The janitor was with her, and opened the
door for her. As she saw the two Quaker figures her face expressed only
blank bewilderment.
"Who are you?" she asked, bluntly. "I haven't any aunts in Philadelphia."
"Oh, yes, you have," said King, in his falsetto voice, "Don't you
remember your dear Aunt Effie and Aunt Lizzie?"
"No, I don't," declared Stella, and then as she showed signs of being
frightened, and perhaps crying, Marjorie came to the rescue.
She hated to explain the joke before the janitor, but he looked
good-natured, and after all it was only a joke. So she threw back her
head, and smiled at Stella, saying, "Then do you remember your Aunt
Marjorie Maynard?"
"Marjorie!" exclaimed Stella. "What are you doing in such funny clothes?
And who is this with you,--Kitty?"
"No," said King, "it's Kingdon. I'm Marjorie's brother, and we're out on
a little lark."
"How did you ever dare come here?" and Stella's startled gaze rested on
them, and then on the janitor.
The janitor was a good-natured man, but he felt that this performance was
not in keeping with school discipline, and he felt he ought to send the
children away at once. But Marjorie smiled at him so winningly that he
could not speak sternly to her.
"I guess you'd better run along now," he said; "the principal wouldn't
like it if he saw you."
"Yes, we're going now," said Marjorie, "but I just wanted to speak to
Stella a minute. We're going to have a party, Stella, and I want you to
come over this afternoon and tell us who to invite."
"All right," said Stella; "I'll come right after school. And now do go
away. If my teacher should see you she'd scold me."
"She'd have no right to," said King. "You couldn't help our coming."
"No, but I can help staying here and talking to you. Now I must go back
to my classroom."
"Skip along, then," said Marjorie, and then turning to the janitor, she
added, "and will you please ask Miss Molly Moss to come down."
"That I will not!" declared the man. "I've been pretty good to you two
kids, and now you'd better make a getaway, or I'll have to report to the
principal."
"Oh, we're going," said Marjorie, hastily; "and don't mention our call to
the principal, because it might make trouble for Stella, though I don't
see why it should."
"Well, I won't say anything about it," and the janitor smiled at them
kindly as he closed the door.
The pair went home chuckling, and when they reached the house it was
nearly lunch time. So they came to the table in their Quaker garb, and
created much merriment by pretending to be guests of the family.
Stella and Molly both came after school, and the list for the party
invitations was soon made out. Uncle Steve wrote the invitations, and
sent them to the mail, but he would not divulge any of his plans for the
party, and though Midget was impatient to know, she could get no idea of
what the plays or games were to be.
But it was not long to wait for the day of the party itself. The guests
were invited from three to six in the afternoon, and though the Maynards
knew some of them, there were a number of strangers among the company.
However, Stella and Molly knew them all, and it did not take long for the
Maynards to feel acquainted with them.
The first game was very amusing. Uncle Steve presented each child with a
Noah's Ark. These were of the toy variety usually seen, but they were all
empty.
"You must find animals for yourselves," said Uncle Steve, who was never
happier than when entertaining children. "They are hidden all about, in
the drawing-room, library, dining-room, and hall. You may not go
upstairs, or in the kitchen, but anywhere else in the house you may
search for animals to fill your arks. Now scamper and see who can get the
most."
The children scampered, and all agreed that hunting wild animals was a
great game. It was lots more fun than a peanut hunt, and they found
elephants, lions, and tigers tucked away behind window curtains and sofa
pillows, under tables and chairs, and even behind the pictures on the
walls.
There were so many animals that each one succeeded in filling his or her
ark, and after they had declared they could find no more, each child
was told to take the ark home as a souvenir of Marjorie's party.
"The next game," said Uncle Steve, as they all sat round, awaiting his
directions, "is out of doors, so perhaps you had better put on your
coats and hats."
"Oh, Uncle Steve," said Marjorie, "the air is so soft and warm, I'm sure
we don't need wraps."
"Yes, you do," said Uncle Steve; "this is a peculiar game, and you must
have your coats on."
So the children trooped upstairs, and soon returned garbed for outdoors,
and two by two they followed Uncle Steve in a long procession. Mr.
Maynard was with them, too, but Uncle Steve was general manager, and told
everybody what to do.
He led them across the lawns, down through the orchard, and then they
came to a large plot of soft, newly-dug earth. It was a sandy soil and
not at all muddy, and the children wondered what kind of a game could
take place in a ploughed field.
"It has just been discovered," Uncle Steve began, "that this field you
see before you is the place where Captain Kidd buried his treasures! For
many years the site was undiscovered, but documents have been found
recently, proving beyond all doubt that the greater part of his vast
treasure was concealed in this particular piece of ground. Of course, if
this were generally known, all sorts of companies and syndicates would be
formed to dig for it. But I have carefully kept it secret from the world
at large, because I wanted you children to be the first ones to dig for
it. Bring the spades, please, Carter, and let us set to work at once."
So Carter brought twenty small spades, and gave one to each child
present.
"Now," said Uncle Steve, "dig wherever you like, all over the field, and
when you find any buried treasure, dig it up, but if it is tied up in
a parcel, do not open it. Every one finding any treasure must bring it,
and put it in this wheelbarrow, and then, if you choose, you may go back
and dig for more."
This was indeed a novel game, and girls and boys alike began to dig with
enthusiasm.
Marjorie worked like mad. The dirt flew right and left, and she dug so
hard and fast that she almost blistered her palms.
"Slow and sure is a better rule, Midget," said her uncle, who was
watching her. "Look at Kitty, she has dug quite as much as you without
making any fuss about it."
"Oh, I _have_ to work fast, Uncle Steve, 'cause I'm having such a good
time! If I didn't fling this spade around hard, I couldn't express my
enjoyment; and oh, Uncle, I've struck a treasure!"
Sure enough, Marjorie's spade had come in contact with what seemed to be
a tin box. It was quite a large box and was strongly tied with lots of
cord, and on it was pasted a paper with the legend, "This treasure was
buried by Captain Kidd. It is of great value."
"It is a treasure, it is!" cried Marjorie, and eagerly she wielded her
spade to get the box free. At last she succeeded, and picking it up from
the dirt, carried it to the wheelbarrow.
Two or three other children also brought treasures they had found, and
this encouraged the others so that they dug deeper.
Shouts of glee rang out from one or another as more and more boxes of
treasure were unearthed, and the pile of boxes in the wheelbarrow grew
higher every moment. The boxes were of all shapes and sizes. They were
all carefully tied up with lots of string and paper, and they all bore
testimony in large printed letters that they had been buried by Captain
Kidd and his band of pirates. King unearthed a large box two or three
feet square, but very flat and shallow. He could not imagine what it
might contain, but he piled it on the wheelbarrow with the others.
After twenty pieces of treasure had been dug up, Uncle Steve declared
that they had emptied the field, and he led the children back to the
house. Carter followed with the wheelbarrow, and they all gathered in the
little enclosed porch that had been furnished especially for Marjorie the
summer before. With a whiskbroom, Carter brushed off any dirt still
clinging to the treasures, and piled them up on a table.
Then calling the children by name. Uncle Steve invited each one to select
a box of treasure for his or her very own. As it was impossible to judge
by the shape of the box what it contained, great merriment was caused by
the surprises which ensued.
The treasures were all dainty and pretty gifts; there were books, games,
toys, fancy boxes, and pretty souvenirs of many sorts. If a boy received
a gift appropriate for a girl, or _vice versa_, they made a happy
exchange, and everybody was more than satisfied.
After this, they were summoned to the dining-room for the feast, and a
merry feast it was. Eliza had used her best skill in the making of dainty
sandwiches and little cakes with pink and white icing. Then there were
jellies and fruits, and, best of all, in Kitty's eyes, most delightful
ice cream. It was in individual shapes, and each child had a duck, or a
chicken, or a flower, or a fruit beautifully modelled and daintily
colored.
The guests went away with a box of treasure under one arm and a Noah's
ark under the other, and they all declared, as they said good-bye, that
it was the nicest party they had ever seen, and they wished the Maynard
children lived at their Grandmother's all the year around.