THE CLUB SELECTS THE BENCHES
It seemed to Dorothy and the Ethels that the outside of Sweetbrier Lodge,
as Mrs. Smith had determined to call her house, went up with remarkable
speed, but that the inside would never be done--never! Every day the
girls walked down the road after school, and stood and surveyed the
general appearance from the sidewalk and from across the street and
sometimes they went on to Mrs. Emerson's and discussed vigorously as to
whether the view of the corner of the house that was to be seen now would
still be seen after the leaves came out or whether the house would be
entirely concealed by the foliage.
"That's 'one of the things no feller knows,'" Mr. Emerson quoted. "We
shall have to wait and see."
"We can get an idea how it is to look from the road," said Ethel Brown.
"Only there'll be a lot of planting," Dorothy explained. "There'll be a
hedge along the street and a lot of shrubs on the knoll and the house
will be covered with vines in the course of time."
"That's another good point about concrete," declared Mr. Emerson; "vines
don't injure it as they do brick."
"We'll have it entirely covered, then," laughed Dorothy.
"I thought it was to be a bungalow," said Mrs. Emerson. "Your mother has
always spoken of it as a bungalow, but the plans I saw the men following
the other day when I went up the hill to take a look at things, seemed to
me like a two story house."
"Mother changed her mind," said Dorothy. "She thought a bungalow would be
too crowded now that we have little Belgian Elisabeth with us, so the
house is going to have two stories and an attic."
"The U. S. C. couldn't get on without Dorothy's attic," smiled Ethel
Brown, for almost all of the presents for the Christmas Ship had been
made in the attic of Dorothy's present abiding place, and the Club had
had many meetings there.
"There's nothing like having a well-thought-out plan before you attempt
building," said Mr. Emerson, "and that your mother had."
"She tried to think of every possible need, Ayleesabet's as well as our
own," continued Dorothy, using the pronunciation that the Belgian baby
had given her own name.
"She has a good contractor in Anderson."
"He didn't make the very lowest bid," said Dorothy. "There was one man
who was lower, but he was such a lot lower that Mother thought there must
be something the matter with the quality of the material he used, or that
he employed workmen so poor that they might not do their work well, so
she didn't consider that offer at all."
"She was very wise," commended Mr. Emerson. "He might have spoiled the
whole thing and have cost her more money in the end by turning out a poor
job."
While the building was going on and before the inside work was done the
girls spent a good deal of time in planning for the furnishing of the
garden. The flower and vegetable beds had all been arranged some weeks
before and many of them had been planted, but the artistic part of the
garden had been left until there should be time to devote to it. Mrs.
Smith had promised Dorothy that she should have the choice of the garden
furniture, reserving for herself a veto power if her daughter chose
anything that seemed to her entirely unsuitable.
"Not that I expect to use it," she said, smiling at the girls who were
listening to her.
The selection of the benches and tables and trellises was made a subject
of attention by the whole United Service Club. A meeting was called in
the partly begun garden so that they might have the "lie of the land"
before them as they talked. Dorothy took with her a number of catalogues
from which to select or to gather ideas.
"We've got a good shelter of large trees already provided for us," she
said as they all seated themselves in such shade as the young leaves
made.
"There ought to be a fine large settee under it where we can have Club
meetings all summer, no matter how warm it is," urged Tom Watkins with
wise foresight. Tom and his sister, Della, came out from New York for the
club gatherings, and the prospect of meeting out of doors instead of in
the attic, which was delightful in winter but not so attractive in warm
weather, made him offer this shrewd suggestion.
"In the first place," said Dorothy again, opening the various catalogues
and spreading them on the grass where they could all see them, "don't you
think it would be pretty to have all the chairs and benches of one
pattern? Or don't you?"
"I think it would," answered Ethel Brown, examining the pages carefully
before she made her decision.
"Would what?"
"I should like them all alike. It would be messy to have a lot of
different patterns."
Ethel Blue, who had a good deal of artistic sense and ability, nodded her
agreement with this belief. They all came to the same conclusion.
"Then, let's pick out the pattern," said Dorothy, who had an orderly
mind.
"Something plain, so the visitor's eye won't be drawn to the benches
instead of the flowers," recommended Helen. "Suppose we were sitting
here, for instance, and looking toward the flower beds--there will be
some tables and chairs between us and the flowers, probably--"
"If the seeds will only grow," Dorothy sighed comically.
"--and we want to forget them and not have them intrude on our
attention."
"Correct!" James Hancock thumped the ground by way of applause.
"What's the plainest pattern there is?" asked Della, extending her hand
for a book.
"That one--but that's too plain," remonstrated Ethel Blue. "That's so
plain that it draws your attention as much as if it were all fussed up."
They laughed at her disgust and urged her to choose the next plainest.
"I rather think this one with cross bars is pretty," she decided
seriously. "You wouldn't get tired of that--especially if they're all
painted dark green so you won't see them much."
"You girls seem to want to have invisible furniture," grinned Roger. "Me
for something more substantial."
"These will be substantial enough--they're made of cypress," retorted
Helen, "but you don't want to see a lot of chairs and benches when you
come out to observe the beauties of nature, my child."
"I can bay the moon on a white bench with an elaborate pattern just as
musically as on a plain, dark green one," insisted Roger.
"Don't pay any attention to him," urged Ethel Brown, which crushing
remark from a younger sister was rewarded by a hair-pull effectively
delivered by Roger.
"Yow!" squealed Ethel.
"Now who's baying the moon?" inquired her brother.
"Let's decide on the cross-barred kind," decreed Dorothy.
"The Lady of the Garden has made her decision," announced James, tooting
through his hands as if he were a herald making an announcement. "Now for
the shapes. How many are you going to have, Lady?"
"I think there ought to be a very large bench that would hold almost all
the Club, and then one or two smaller benches and two or three chairs and
two small tables for lemonade and cocoa."
"And to hold the Secretary's book when she's writing," urged Ethel Blue
who held the office of scribe and had not always found herself
conveniently situated to do her work.
"Here's a bully bench for the whole U. S. C.," cried Tom. "It's curved so
it will fit right under this semi-circle of trees as if it were made for
this very spot."
He held up the picture of a wide bench with two wings. It was greeted
with applause.
"When that is made in the pattern we chose it will be as pretty as any
one could ask for," Dorothy decided.
"And painted green," added Ethel Blue, at which they all laughed. "I'm
serious about the green," she insisted. "Don't you see what I mean,
Dorothy?" she continued, appealing to the person who was to have the
final decision on the question.
"I think you're right," replied Dorothy. "Don't mind what they say. Write
down one of those, Miss Secretary, and one of these right-angled
ones--don't you all of you think that's a comfy one?"
They did, and they also approved of the single bench and the chairs and
the small tables.
"They won't be all jammed up in this corner, of course," Dorothy
explained gravely, "but when we have a Club meeting we can bring them
together if we want to and room enough for everybody."
"I thought we were all to sit on the big bench," objected Tom with an air
of deep disappointment.
"So we shall if you boys are too lazy to pull the other benches and
chairs over here," answered Dorothy. "If we have plenty we can arrange
them any way we want to."
"What about trellises?" inquired Ethel Blue who had been continuing her
researches in the catalogues. "Here are some beauties. Don't you think
you'll need some?"
"She certainly will if that Dorothy Perkins rambler rose gets busy as it
ought to," decided Roger.
"There'll be a lot of vines and tall things if they'll only grow," said
Dorothy hopefully. "I think there ought to be one or two flat ones and an
arbor that will be a trellis."
"Here's an arbor that you can walk through or sit down in while you
admire your plants, and you will be protected from the sun," Tom pointed
out.
"And that same one with a lattice back and a bench inside makes a pretty
good imitation of a summer house," suggested Ethel Brown.
"We'll have one apiece of those, then."
"Count up and see how much stuff you're planning to order," Roger
suggested. "You've got a huge big place to set them in here but you don't
want too much wood work, nevertheless."
They came to the conclusion that there were not too many for the size of
the grounds and were well satisfied with their choice.
"Do you see how well we're going to see the house from here?" Dorothy
asked.
They all agreed that it would be very pretty from that point.
"My idea is that the garden must look well from the house," said Dorothy.
"Mother wants a pergola somewhere. Don't you think the right place for it
would be covering a walk leading from the house to here?"
"That's a great notion," approved Tom. "As you came toward the garden
you'd have a--what do you call the effect--where you see a view framed in
somehow?"
"Do you mean a vista?" asked Margaret.
"That's it. There would be a vista of the garden."
"It will be lovely!" Helen said decisively. "And I don't see why there
shouldn't be a trellis framing a view of the woods toward Grandfather
Emerson's; that would be pretty, too."
Dorothy went over to look at the drawing that Helen held up to her and
decided straightway that it was worth trying. They all went toward the
upper side of the garden where young peach trees were planted on the
northern slope of the ridge and chose a spot which gave a charming
picture of the adjoining field with its brook and the woods beyond.
"The birds are coming along pretty well now," announced James who had
been lying on his back gazing up into the branches swaying in the upper
breeze.
"Are you going to build any bird houses, Dorothy?" asked Ethel Brown.
"I suppose we'll have to if we want them to stay late in the season or
all winter," replied her cousin. "But bird houses are so ugly."
"Not the modern ones," interposed James eagerly. "You make them out of
pieces of the trunks of trees with the bark on, and you fix up a platform
with a stick on it that has spikes to hang suet on and they aren't a bit
conspicuous and lots of birds will stay all winter that otherwise would
go south before the regular Palm Beach rush."
"We must have some then," Dorothy made up her mind. "Say 'Robert of
Lincoln'?" she begged Ethel Brown, who was the Club's reciter, "and then
we'll go home and have some cocoa and cookies."
"Do, Ethel Brown;" "Come on," were the cries from all the U. S. C.
members as they settled themselves to listen to Bryant's charming verses.
Merrily swinging on brier and weed,
Near to the nest of his little dame,
Over the mountain side and mead,
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name,
Bob-o'link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Snug and safe is that nest of ours,
Hidden among the summer flowers,
Chee, chee, chee.
Robert of Lincoln is gaily dressed,
Wearing a bright black wedding coat;
White are his shoulders and white his crest,
Hear him call in his cheery note:
Bob-o'link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Look, what a nice new coat is mine,
Sure there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee.
Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife,
Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings,
Passing at home a patient life,
Broods in the grass while her husband sings:
Bob-o'link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Brood, kind creature; you need not fear
Thieves and robbers while I am here.
Chee, chee, chee.
Modest and shy as a nun is she,
One weak chirp is her only note,
Braggart and prince of braggarts is he,
Pouring boasts from his little throat:
Bob-o'link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Never was I afraid of man;
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can.
Chee, chee, chee.
Six white eggs on a bed of hay,
Flecked with purple, a pretty sight!
There as the mother sits all day,
Robert is singing with all his might:
Bob-o'link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Nice good wife that never goes out,
Keeping house while I frolic about.
Chee, chee, chee.
Soon as the little ones chip the shell
Six wide mouths are open for food;
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seed for the hungry brood.
Bob-o'link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
This new life is likely to be
Hard for a gay young fellow like me.
Chee, chee, chee.
Robert of Lincoln at length is made
Sober with work and silent with care;
Off is his holiday garment laid,
Half forgotten that merry air,
Bob-o'link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Nobody knows but my mate and I
Where our nest and our nestlings lie.
Chee, chee, chee.
Summer wanes, the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows;
Robert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone;
Off he flies and we sing as he goes:
Bob-o'link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.
Chee, chee, chee.