NIGHT
The women were too busy to take any notice of the children when they
returned except to ask them if they had a good swim.
“I feel like reading,” Maida said with a determined air. She marched
into the library. “There’s a book here I haven’t read for a long time,
_At the Back of the North Wind_.” She went on as though talking to
herself. “It’s one of the loveliest stories I ever read. I don’t know
but what it’s my favorite of all. I feel like reading it now. It’s so
cool ... there’s a great beautiful woman in it ... the North Wind....”
Her voice melted into silence, as her hand seized a worn brown book.
She dropped into one of the big chairs; seemed to forget entirely about
her companions.
The others--partly because there seemed nothing else to do--followed
her example.
“Oh, here’s _A Journey to the Centre of the Earth_!” Dicky announced
joyously. “I haven’t seen it since Maida took it to Europe.” He
absorbed himself in the big thick volume.
Rosie and Laura contented themselves respectively with _Little Men_
and _Little Women_, and Harold began for the third time _Kidnapped_.
But Arthur found a newly published book describing the exploration of
Africa in a flying machine. He pored over it; gradually became absorbed.
It had been late afternoon when they returned. Nearly an hour drifted
by. That coolness, which announces the approach of dusk, set in.
“Well,” Maida said at last, breathing a long relieved sigh, “I’ve got
rid of my temper. If I hadn’t taken a book when I did, I’m sure I’d
have burst into pieces. If everybody has read all he wants to, let’s
try the tennis court.”
They tried the tennis court (although only Maida and the two Lathrops
played tennis) but to such good effect and with so great a fascination
that they returned to it after supper. Arthur, as was to be expected
with his coolness and game sense, progressed rapidly under Harold’s
instructions. The others found it the most difficult thing they had
ever attempted. They were hot and tired when finally approaching dark
made it impossible for them to see the balls.
They adjourned to the Tree Room where, in hammock and chairs, they
talked and talked.
Gradually the talk grew desultory; sank to an occasional silence.
“I was rummaging about in the barn early this morning,” Arthur said
out of the reflective quiet in which he had long been immersed, “and
I found all kinds of things in a big chest--base-balls and bats;
foot-ball stuff and boxing gloves. Do you know how to box, Harold?”
“No,” Harold replied, “never tried it.”
“Want to learn?” Arthur inquired. “I’ll teach you. I’d like the
practice.”
“Sure,” Harold said. “When will we begin?”
“To-morrow,” Arthur responded.
“What do you want to practice boxing for, Arthur?” Rosie asked
curiously.
“Oh I thought I might need it sometime,” Arthur answered evasively. He
smiled into the dark.
“Say!” Rosie burst out suddenly, “did anybody besides me get sun-burned
to-day?”
“Well, I didn’t mention it,” Laura answered sleepily, “but I feel as if
my face were on fire.”
“Oh! Oh!” Maida exclaimed contritely. “I forgot to warn you to be sure
to wear hats this first day or two. Are you burnt, Arthur?”
“To a cinder,” Arthur declared, “but I’ve been burnt before. I don’t
mind it so very much.”
“And you Dicky?” Maida went on.
Dicky’s answer was a grimace.
“And Harold?” Maida continued in a despairing voice.
“I shall be one big blister to-morrow,” Harold prophesied grimly.
“Oh my goodness!” wailed Maida futilely. “It’s all my fault. Well it’s
half-past eight,” she added after a pause. “According to rules we can
sit up until nine, but I’m going to bed now. I never was so tired in
all my life.”
“I’m falling asleep where I am,” Rosie admitted, “and as for Laura, she
_is_ asleep.”
This was the first day at the Little House.