JERRY AND GERALDINE
It was a glorious spring morning about a week later, and Gretel and
Higgins were sitting on the pier at Old Point Comfort, watching the
departure of a big battle-ship, which was just sailing out of the
harbor. At their feet lay the beautiful bay, the little waves sparkling
and dancing in the bright sunshine. In New York it was still winter,
and piles of snow were melting in the parks, but here in Virginia
spring had already come; the birds were singing, and the grass was as
green as if it had been June instead of the last of March.
Although it was only a little more than a week since Gretel had left
Mrs. Marsh’s, she already looked quite a different child. There was a
color in her cheeks, and a brightness in her eyes, which it did her
brother’s heart good to see, and as for her appetite, she felt quite
certain she had never eaten so much in her life. She was very happy,
and enjoying every new experience and sensation to the full. As yet
they had not made any friends at the big hotel, but there was so much
to see, and so many pleasant things to do, Gretel had not even thought
of other companionship than that of her brother and Higgins. Mr. Douane
was growing very fond of his little sister, and he was so kind to her,
and so anxious to give her pleasure, that Gretel sometimes felt as if
this wonderful new life must be a dream, from which she must surely
wake some morning, to find herself back in her little room at Mrs.
Marsh’s, with nothing more exciting to look forward to than watching
the people going into “fairy-land.”
Higgins was not a very interesting person, it is true, but she too
was kind, and she treated the little girl with so much deference and
respect, that Gretel was sometimes quite embarrassed.
“I wish Higgins wouldn’t say ‘Miss’ every time she speaks to me,” she
had said to her brother once when they were alone together. At which
Mr. Douane had only laughed, and told her that it was quite customary
for maids to address young ladies as “Miss.”
Higgins herself had taken a great fancy to the gentle little girl, who
always treated her with kindness and consideration, and to dress Gretel
in her prettiest clothes, curl her hair, and take her to walk, were
among her favorite occupations.
“Do you know, Higgins,” remarked Gretel, as the battle-ship faded out
of sight, “you’ve never told me what your other name is.”
Higgins blushed and looked a little embarrassed.
“Well, you see, miss,” she explained, “I don’t use it very hoften; it
don’t seem hexactly suitable. It was this way, miss. My mother before
she married was lady’s maid in Sir Marmaduke Cadwalader’s family. ’Er
ladyship was very kind, and my mother thought a great deal of ’er in a
respectful way, so when I was born she named me for Lady Cadwalader’s
second daughter. ’Er ladyship was pleased when she ’eard of it, and
Miss Violet ’erself sent me a mug and spoon.”
“Miss Violet,” repeated Gretel; “is your name Violet, Higgins?”
“Yes, it is,” Higgins admitted reluctantly, “and I must say I don’t
like it. Violet ’Iggins don’t seem to go rightly together, does it now?
That’s why I prefer to be called just ’Iggins.”
“Violet is a very beautiful name,” said Gretel, politely. “I never knew
any one named Violet before, but I’ve read it in books.”
“You never read about a Violet ’Iggins, though, did you?” inquired
Higgins, rather grimly. And Gretel was forced to admit that she had not.
“I’ll call you Violet if you would like to have me,” she said, eagerly.
“I needn’t do it before people if you prefer Higgins, but I should
think you would like to have somebody intimate enough with you to
call you by your first name. I should hate to have everybody call me
Schiller.”
“It’s very kind of you, I’m sure, miss,” said Higgins, who was still
looking somewhat embarrassed, “but hif you don’t mind, I think I’d
just as soon be ’Iggins. You see, nobody ever did call me Violet. My
mother thought hit was too grand a name to use without a miss before
it, so she shortened it to Sally. I was halways called Sally at ’ome,
but since I’ve been in service I’ve halways stipulated that I should be
called ’Iggins.”
Gretel was a little disappointed. She really liked Higgins, and was
anxious to be friends with her, but it did not seem possible to become
very intimate with a person who must always be addressed by her last
name. But at that moment she caught sight of her brother approaching
her, accompanied by a lady and gentleman.
“Oh, look, Higgins,” she exclaimed, eagerly, “here comes Percy, and
he’s talking to the father and mother of those children we saw at the
fort yesterday. You know the little boy and girl we thought must be
twins, they looked so much alike.”
“I remember,” said Higgins, disapprovingly, “and very hill-mannered
children they was, too. There they are now, hout on the very hend of
the pier; they’ll be tumbling into the water and getting themselves
drowned the next thing.”
At that moment Mr. Douane reached his little sister’s side, and stopped
to speak to her.
“Gretel,” he said, “I have met some old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Barlow.
I have been telling them about you, and they say they will be glad to
have you make friends with their little daughter, who is about your
age.”
Gretel rose and curtsied.
“I shall be very glad to know your little daughter,” she said, speaking
in the prim foreign way her father had taught her, “but I think she
must be younger than I am. I have seen her and the little boy, too. I
shall be twelve years old next August.”
Mr. and Mrs. Barlow looked rather amused, but they shook hands with
Gretel very kindly, and Mr. Barlow--who was a stout, pleasant-faced
gentleman--said she was quite correct, and that the twins were only
just ten.
“Are they really twins?” inquired Gretel, with much interest. “Higgins
and I thought they might be, but we weren’t sure. I think I see them
out on the end of the pier now.”
“Yes,” answered Mr. Barlow, following Gretel’s glance, “they certainly
are, and a little too near the end, I am afraid.” And he started
promptly in pursuit of his small son and daughter. But Mrs. Barlow--a
placid, sweet-faced little lady--smiled serenely, and did not seem in
the least anxious.
“Mr. Barlow is always worrying about the children,” she said. “I tell
him he is very foolish; Jerry and Geraldine are perfectly capable of
taking care of themselves. Besides, children must be taught to learn
by experience. We must not put the thought of fear into their little
minds. My Jerry is the most fearless child I have ever known.”
Mr. Douane looked a little puzzled, as if he found it rather hard to
understand Mrs. Barlow’s point of view, but at that moment Mr. Barlow
returned, accompanied by Jerry and Geraldine.
“Children,” began Mrs. Barlow in her sweet, rather drawling voice,
“such a very pleasant thing has happened. We have met an old friend,
Mr. Douane, and his little sister is going to be a dear little playmate
for you. Isn’t that delightful news?”
Mrs. Barlow evidently expected the children to be quite overwhelmed
with joy, but to tell the truth, neither Jerry nor Geraldine appeared
very much impressed. They both regarded Gretel with a prolonged stare,
but neither spoke, and when Gretel held out her hand, Jerry instantly
put both hands in his pockets, and Geraldine put hers behind her back.
“Shake hands, children,” admonished their father; “don’t you see the
little girl is waiting to shake hands with you?”
“Oh, don’t force them, dear,” Mrs. Barlow interposed gently. “Children
always get on better together when left to themselves. We are going to
the fort for guard mount, Mr. Douane, and shall be very glad to have
your little sister join us. Please let her come.”
Mr. Douane said he was sure Gretel would be glad to go, and added that
he himself, was obliged to go away for the day, to attend to some
business in the neighborhood.
“Then why not let your sister spend the day with us?” exclaimed Mrs.
Barlow. “That will be a charming plan, and the children will be so
happy. We have only been here two days, and they have not had an
opportunity of making any little friends as yet. You are staying at the
‘Chamberlain,’ I suppose?”
Mr. Douane replied that they were.
“We go there for our meals,” said Mrs. Barlow, “but have taken a
cottage for the season. The children are just over scarlet fever, and
are not to return to school this spring. Would you like to spend the
day with us, dear?” she added, kindly, turning to Gretel.
Gretel said she would like it very much.
“Very well, then, you shall come with us to the fort, and afterwards go
back to the cottage. We shall all have a very happy day, I am sure, Mr.
Douane.”
So the matter was settled, and a few minutes later Gretel was walking
away to the fort with her new friends, while Mr. Douane hurried off to
catch his train, and Higgins was left to return to the hotel by herself.
“Now, children, you are all to walk together, and make friends,” said
Mrs. Barlow, taking command of the party, and accordingly the three
children started on ahead, while their elders brought up the rear.
For several minutes they walked on in perfect silence. Jerry and
Geraldine were regarding their new acquaintance critically, and Gretel
was beginning to wonder if both her companions could possibly be dumb,
when Geraldine at last broke silence with the question:
“Did you come in the boat?”
“Yes,” answered Gretel, delighted at finding an opening for
conversation; “we came on the Norfolk steamer from New York; it was
lovely.”
“We came by the train,” announced Geraldine; “I hate trains, and so
does Jerry; they’re so hot and stuffy. We wanted to come by the boat,
and Father was willing, but Mother wasn’t. Were you seasick?”
“No, not a bit. My brother and I sat on deck, and there was music, and
we had such a good dinner. Higgins and I both slept so soundly that my
brother had to wake us when it was time to get up in the morning. I was
never on a steamer before, but I loved it.”
“Of course you did,” said Geraldine, with conviction; “we should have
loved it, too. We’re going on a boat sometime, aren’t we, Jerry?”
“Yep,” responded Jerry, shortly. It was the first time he had
spoken, and his voice was so very hoarse that Gretel looked at him in
astonishment.
“Has your brother a bad cold?” she inquired sympathetically of
Geraldine.
“It’s his tonsils,” Geraldine explained. “Father says they ought to be
cut, but Mother’s using Mind Cure on him, and she thinks they’ll get
well by themselves.”
“What’s Mind Cure?”
“Oh, don’t you know? It’s the thing people believe in when they don’t
take medicine or have doctors. We had a doctor when we had scarlet
fever, because Father said we must, but Mother thought it was all
nonsense about the fumigating. Before Mother got to be a Mind Cure we
had to take castor oil, and rhubarb, and lots of horrid things, but we
never do now. We like it much better this way. Does your mother bring
you up by the Law of Love?”
“My mother died when I was a baby,” said Gretel, sadly, “and my father
is dead too. My brother takes care of me now, and he is very kind, but
I don’t think I know what the Law of Love is.”
“Oh, it means never punishing, and only talking to you a long time when
you’re naughty, and things like that,” Geraldine explained. “Mother
didn’t know about it till she went to some lectures last winter. The
lady that gave the lectures said children must never have their spirit
broken, and must learn things by experience. Mother has a lot of books
that tell how to bring children up that way, and she and the lady who
gives the lectures write to each other about it, too. It’s great fun
being brought up by the Law of Love, isn’t it, Jerry?”
“You bet!” responded Jerry, heartily. “It’s great never having to
take any more nasty old medicine, too. Have you got any more of those
chocolates along?”
Geraldine produced from her pocket a small box of chocolate creams,
which she handed to her brother.
“Have one?” inquired Jerry, holding out the box to Gretel, and
addressing her for the first time.
Gretel politely accepted a bonbon.
“Before Mother got to be a Mind Cure we were only allowed one chocolate
after dinner,” Geraldine observed, complacently, putting a fat cream
into her mouth. “Now we can buy all we want, and Mother says if they
make us ill we shall learn by experience not to eat too many again.
But they haven’t made us ill yet.”
At that moment they reached the entrance to the fort, and paused to
wait for their elders, who were some distance behind. Mrs. Barlow
greeted them with her usual serene smile.
“I hope my little boy and girl have been polite, and kind to their new
friend,” she said, and Gretel thought her voice sounded as if she were
reciting something out of a book. “It is a great pleasure to have a new
friend, isn’t it?”
Neither Jerry nor Geraldine appeared to consider it necessary to answer
this question, but their mother was evidently accustomed to their
silence, for she did not look at all surprised, and in another moment
they were all crossing the drawbridge into the fort.