EASTER IN NASSAU
"The Merry Hearts" had started out bright and early, intent upon making
their first whole day of sight-seeing as long as possible. They were
glad to find that the weather was a shade cooler, and that the blinding
glare of the sunshine was veiled by thin clouds. At breakfast they
announced their intention of visiting Grant's Town, and invited Mr. and
Mrs. Wales to join their party.
"Grant's Town?" repeated Mr. Wales. "I never heard of it. Where is it?
And what is it? And how did you hear about it?"
"It's the negro settlement up on the hill," answered Betty. "The old
black woman who has charge of our hotel told us about it. She says that
the yards up there are a lot prettier than the grounds of either hotel."
"Very well," said Mr. Wales briskly. "We'll go to Grant's Town this
morning."
Mrs. Wales and Miss Hale were loath to leave the shade of the
Colonial's piazza, but even they had to admit, after they had been
persuaded to see it, that Grant's Town was well worth visiting.
Eleanor acted as guide, because it was she who had had the conversation
about Grant's Town with the colored maid. "We go straight up Market
Street," she said, "and Market Street starts from the town market,
which is somewhere on this long street that skirts the water--Bay
Street, the woman called it--the one that your hotel is on."
Presently they came to the market, and Mr. Wales wanted to stop and
exhibit that to his party, but Eleanor objected. "The best time to
see the market is before breakfast," she declared. "There's nothing
much left by this time, and if we wait now, it may be too hot to go to
Grant's Town."
And Mr. Wales, with a laughing remark to Ethel about the difficulty of
managing these college girls, with their superior information, admitted
that Eleanor's council was wiser.
Market Street gradually changed from a closely built highway, lined
with little shops and shabby wooden houses built close to the street,
to a shaded country road with walled gardens and orchards on either
side of it.
"This is the governor's estate," said Mr. Wales presently. "Did you
know this was the governor's estate, young ladies?"
The young ladies had not known it. They were straightway all interest,
and were greatly disappointed to hear that the governor's grounds were
private.
"Still we can see a lot from here," said Helen. "What is that tree with
those lovely red blossoms? And what is that purple vine?"
"I don't know," said Mr. Wales, "but we'll ask this woman."
So they waited for the negro woman who was swinging up the hill toward
them at a fast walk. On her head she carried a great flat wooden tray
filled with dozens of tomatoes, some eggs, and a few heads of lettuce.
Under one arm she had tucked away a big white hen, and in the other
hand she carried some slices of fish, strung on a forked stick.
"My, but she must have a big family!" said Bob, when the woman had
answered their questions and hurried on. "It would take a whole
regiment of children to eat all those tomatoes."
"Let's follow her," suggested Roberta. "Then perhaps we can take the
children's pictures. I brought along a whole lot of coppers."
The woman turned in at one of the first of the little houses that
suddenly began to crowd the road at the foot of the next hill, and she
had no children at all, so she informed the inquiring Bob. She kept a
store. That is to say, a big table was set across the room, just inside
the open door of her cottage, and on this improvised counter she was
arranging her wares when the visitors came up with her. The girls found
that there were any number of these little shops in Grant's Town. Every
morning the proprietors, starting often before daylight, went down to
the market for supplies, and the neighborhood saved itself the long
walk through the sun by patronizing the little local stores. Other
negro women carried their heaped-up trays through the white settlement,
bringing to their regular customers the choicest fruits and vegetables
that the day's market afforded. So it soon grew to seem perfectly
natural to see eggs, oranges, tomatoes, and other kinds of "rolling
stock," as Mary flippantly named them, carried about on the heads of
graceful, swiftly moving negresses, who stopped to chat with their
friends, laughed, talked, turned their heads unconcernedly this way and
that, but never spilled anything.
The adventurous Bob made friends with an old woman who sold cocoanut
cakes on the streets near their hotel. One day when the girls had
bought out nearly all her supply, Bob persuaded her to empty the tray
and let her try to carry it. Before Bob had taken three steps the tray
toppled, slipped, and banged down hard on her toes.
"Goodness!" she said, as she picked it up, "I'm glad I don't live in a
country where you have to carry things this way. Suppose that tray had
been full of eggs!"
"If you lived here," sniffed Babe, "you'd have to learn on sugar-cane.
You wouldn't get a chance at eggs till you could carry sticks of
sugar-cane without ever dropping one of them. Isn't that so, Martha?"
"I guess 'tis," said Martha, shuffling off, grinning at the strange
doings of "them gals."
But "The Merry Hearts" didn't discover Martha until long after their
first visit to Grant's Town. What interested them most on that trip
were the gardens and the pickaninnies. The latter, quickly perceiving
that the party was well supplied with pennies, appeared in hordes as if
by magic, and followed the white folks all through the colored town,
not begging except with their great eyes, which looked so wistful that
the girls invented all sorts of excuses for bestowing half-pennies.
"It is prettier up here than down where we are," said Mrs. Wales before
they had gone far. "The soil must be richer away from the sea. Look at
those palms! And see the roses around that little tumbled-down cabin!
Do you suppose I could buy some?"
Just as she spoke a pretty mulatto woman appeared around the corner of
the house, and, saying that she was willing to sell her flowers, picked
Mrs. Wales a lovely bunch.
"How much?" asked Mrs. Wales, hoping that she had not been too
extravagant.
The woman looked critically at the roses. "'Bout threepence," she said
at last.
The girls fairly gasped. To think of buying a dozen roses and
quantities of buds for threepence--which is the same as six American
pennies. Then they began to order roses.
"I've never had as many roses as I wanted in my whole life," said
Roberta, "and now I'm going to. I shall come up here every day."
Presently they turned off the main road into a grassy by-path, and came
all at once upon a small orange grove, whose trees were loaded down
with great clusters of golden fruit.
"The Merry Hearts" shrieked with joy.
"Do you suppose they'll let us pick a few, father?" asked Betty. "We
promised Rachel and K. and Nita that we'd bring them some oranges we
had picked ourselves."
"Hadn't you better wait and come back later in the week?" asked Mr.
Wales with a twinkle. "Ripe oranges don't keep long, you know."
"But we may not have time to come back," protested Betty. "I think
they'll keep. And anyhow, father, we are just crazy to pick some now,
aren't we, girls?"
"All right," said Mr. Wales, laughing heartily as he went off toward
the nearest house. He came back after a minute with the owner of the
grove, who invited the party in and told them to pick as many oranges
as they wanted.
"Take some grapefruit, too," he said, "and some forbidden fruit.
They're a good deal the same, but you'll want to try everything while
you're here."
"Yes, we do," said Bob. "What other kinds are there?"
"Sugar apples," said the man, "and sour sops, and shaddock. I don't
raise any of those, but you can buy them at the market."
"I hope you'll remember all those names, Helen Chase Adams," said Bob.
"As long as you came to improve your mind, you might as well do the
remembering for the crowd. Let's go to market to-morrow, girls."
"We can't," objected Helen. "To-morrow's Sunday."
"Easter Sunday," added Madeline. "Do you suppose anybody will wear
Easter hats to church?"
"I don't see how they know when to get new clothes down here," said
Mary. "There isn't any winter, and so of course there isn't any spring.
I suppose they just have to wait until things wear out, and then get
some more."
"Quite a sensible way of doing, I should say," laughed Mr. Wales.
"I wish to-morrow were Christmas, instead of Easter," remarked Roberta
irrelevantly.
"Why do you wish that, my dear?" asked Mrs. Wales, who was always
interested in Roberta's odd fancies.
"Because," said Roberta, "if to-morrow were Christmas, we could have a
Christmas tree, and an orange tree would make such a fascinating one,
with all the oranges for decorations."
"But you couldn't cut one down and take it to the hotel, Roberta,"
objected Helen, the matter-of-fact.
"No," said Roberta, "but we wouldn't have to. There is a dear little
orange tree with ten oranges on it in the yard behind the annex. I can
see it from my window. The oranges look rather green, but still it
would do beautifully."
"Why not have an Easter tree?" asked Madeline. "It's really just about
as sensible as having one at Christmas."
"We'd better wait and have it on Easter Monday," put in Babe. "We
couldn't get ready for it to-day, and to-morrow we're going to the
Cathedral in the morning and to the colored church in the afternoon.
Besides, we could have more fun with it on a week-day."
"Monday is all right, but how about the presents?" inquired Bob
practically.
"Let me attend to that," answered Mr. Wales. "I've picked up a few odds
and ends among the islands that will be just the thing for an Easter
tree."
"I want to help a little," put in Eleanor. She had heard Betty admiring
a turtle with a polished back, that hung in a shop-window on Bay
Street, and this would be a graceful way of giving it to her.
"Anybody may help who wants to," decreed Mary, who, in her capacity of
president and senior member of "The Merry Hearts," had fallen into the
habit of deciding such matters, "but no one must feel that she has to
put anything on the tree, because we all contribute by just being down
here, and that's a pretty expensive contribution for most of us."
"Won't it be fun!" cried Babe enthusiastically. "Roberta must be
mistress of ceremonies, and arrange the presents. Let's have it the
first thing Monday morning. Seems as if I couldn't wait a whole day and
a half to see it!"
"The Merry Hearts" spent Saturday afternoon shopping in small and
mysterious parties of ones and twos. No one but Eleanor had much money
to spend, and Eleanor felt that it would not be in good taste for her
to spend much, except for Betty's tortoise. But all the trifles added
together made almost an embarrassment of riches for the mistress of
ceremonies, who, as soon as Monday's breakfast was over, ordered them
piled on the ground near the Easter tree, and then banished everybody
but Madeline from the back-yard.
When the tree was ready there was another brief delay because Mr. and
Mrs. Wales had not arrived. But they came in a few minutes, and Dr.
Eaton was with them.
"You ought to have let me know about this function sooner, Miss
Brooks," he began reproachfully. "I rushed around wildly in the few
minutes that I had after Mr. Wales invited me to be present, but I
haven't had time to get very much." He held out a bulky parcel to
Roberta. "The nine things that are all alike are for you young ladies,
and the two odd ones are for Mrs. Wales and the chaperon."
"The things all alike" proved to be nine funny little "finger-sponges,"
like those that the girls afterward saw growing in the sea-gardens of
the bay, and the "two odd ones" were bits of the dainty drawn-work
that the Nassau women do so beautifully. Roberta decided that all the
presents should be put on the tree without wrappings, and the result
was decidedly original and fantastic. Betty's turtle clung to one
bough; Babbie's, presented to her by the other two B's, was climbing
the trunk. Gay necklaces from Jamaica encircled the smaller branches;
shell-combs and pins, native-woven baskets, post-cards with Nassau or
Cuban views, drawn-work handkerchiefs and collars, shells, corals, and
other strange spoils of the sea--not to mention the oranges and a bunch
of bananas for Eleanor, who declared she had never yet had as many of
them as she wanted, as well as a bunch of roses for Roberta,--made the
Easter tree look very festive indeed. Mr. and Mrs. Wales had provided
something for everybody, including Dr. Eaton, who entered thoroughly
into the spirit of the occasion and seemed to enjoy the fun and frolic
quite as much as anybody.
"I think we ought to propose a vote of thanks to Miss Lewis for
originating the Easter tree," he said, when all the presents had been
distributed.
"Oh, I didn't think of it," interposed Roberta hastily. "It was
Madeline."
"You began it," said Madeline, "and it certainly has been a lot of fun.
Can't some of you think of another Easter celebration to take up the
rest of the morning?"
Everybody considered for a moment, and Bob had the first inspiration.
"We ought to have an Easter egg-rolling," she said. "Our terrace here
is a lot nicer place than the one they use in Washington."
"But we couldn't dye the eggs," said Helen. "It's so hot that the
colors would run. I remember I dyed a dress once at home in August
and----"
"Have oranges instead of eggs," interrupted Mary. "They are bright
enough without being dyed, and we can have a whole lot, for they cost
only six cents a dozen. Roberta and I asked at the market this morning
on our way to breakfast."
"But where will you get your children?" asked Mrs. Wales, laughing at
the girls' enthusiasm.
"In Grant's Town, of course!" shrieked everybody at once.
"Those little black boys will be too cunning for words," said Madeline,
jumping up. "Somebody else go for the oranges, and Mary and I will find
the children."
"I'll go with you," said Miss Hale, rising also. "Wait a minute while I
get my sun-shade."
"I'll go too," said Dr. Eaton. "I don't like the idea of you ladies
wandering about in Grant's Town alone."
Ethel flushed and murmured something about its being perfectly safe,
though when Mrs. Wales said doubtfully, "Perhaps it isn't quite,
dear," she submitted. But she managed to start off with Madeline,
leaving Dr. Eaton to console himself as best he could with Mary's
lively company.
Meanwhile Mrs. Wales, Eleanor and Betty, went after more oranges,
and the rest sat on the piazza, admiring their Easter presents and
discussing the egg-rolling.
"Do you think the children will care about the oranges?" asked Helen,
doubtfully. "I suppose they're even commoner here than apples are with
us."
"That's so," said Bob, dubiously. "Perhaps they won't think they're
worth scrambling for."
"I know what we can do," said Babbie, after a minute's pause. "We can
put coppers inside. Then they'll go for them fast enough."
"In that case we shall have to get some more money changed," said Babe.
"Come on down to the book-store. The man there is awfully obliging."
The various foraging parties returned at about the same time, Betty,
Eleanor and Mrs. Wales loaded down with huge bags of oranges, the B's
bringing coppers galore, and Mary and Madeline convoying ten small,
ragged, and rather frightened black urchins.
"Where are Eaton and Ethel?" asked Mr. Wales, counting up his party.
"They'll be right along, I think, Mr. Wales," answered Mary, sweetly,
"but I don't believe we'd better wait for them, do you? These boys
didn't really want to come, and I'm afraid they'll run away if we don't
hurry."
Babbie explained her scheme for adding excitement to the
orange-rolling, and there was no doubt of its efficiency. The instant
that Mr. Wales began making slits in the rinds of the oranges, so
that the girls could poke pennies or half-pennies down the holes, the
ten small boys became suddenly rigid with attention. They had come
reluctantly, not exactly knowing what to expect, but when there was a
prospect of coppers they became eagerness personified.
When all the oranges had been duly "stuffed," the boys were stationed
at the foot of the steep terrace, and the girls started five or six big
oranges rolling down toward them. For an instant the ten hesitated,
then they plunged wildly up the slope to capture the spoils. As each
succeeded in getting an orange, he retreated to the foot of the hill,
and began a frantic effort to eat down to his penny before any more
oranges were started down the slope. One crafty but too confiding youth
decided to pile his booty at the foot of the hill, hoping thus to gain
time and distance his fellows. But while his back was turned, the pile
disappeared. Another tried dropping the fruit into his blouse, but in
the scramble several oranges fell out. The only safe way was to get the
penny out as soon as you had secured the orange.
"Do you suppose they'll die of indigestion?" gasped Mrs. Wales,
breathless with laughter.
"Or be poisoned from those dirty pennies?" suggested Eleanor, anxiously.
"I guess not," said Mr. Wales, cheerfully. "I don't imagine their
digestions are delicate, and you remember that the divers all kept
their winnings in their mouths, so I don't believe you need worry."
All too soon the supply of oranges was exhausted and the tattered
regiment departed, fairly wreathed in smiles, to buy sugar-cane and
gloat over their friends who had not spent the morning so profitably.
"Wasn't that too lovely?" sighed Mary, as the girls collected the
remains of the orange-rolling into a basket for the gardener to throw
away. "I saw a moving picture once of two little pickaninnies racing to
see which could finish his slice of watermelon first. But they didn't
begin to eat so fast or look so funny as our boys."
Just as she had finished speaking, Dr. Eaton and Miss Hale appeared
around the corner of the house. He was carrying her parasol, and they
were walking slowly and laughing and chatting in a very friendly
fashion.
"Oh, we ought to have saved some of the oranges until you came," cried
Mrs. Wales, when she saw them, "but the boys were so impatient,--and to
tell the truth I'm afraid we forgot all about you."
"Loiterers mustn't expect to have their cake and eat it too," said Mr.
Wales, beaming benignly upon the two laggards.
Ethel looked reproachfully at Mary. "Why didn't you wait for us?" she
demanded. "We were trying to persuade that funny little boy, at the
thatched cottage with the breadfruit tree in front of it, to come with
us. And all at once we noticed that you were gone."
"Yes," said Mary. "We were sorry, but the ten we had wouldn't wait.
They were going to strike if they couldn't move on at once. Didn't you
get the funny little one to come after all?"
"No," said Ethel, "he positively refused. I was so hot that I had to
rest for a minute, and then we came back, but not very straight."
"Not straight at all," corrected Dr. Eaton smilingly. "We got badly
lost. You see I'd never been up there before, and when you abandoned us
I got completely turned around. I'm sorry I was so stupid."
"Oh, it didn't matter," said Ethel hastily. "But where are the boys?
Isn't it time to begin the orange-rolling?"
"Oh, Ethel," exclaimed Betty in dismay. "Didn't you understand? The
boys were in a hurry, and we had it right off. It lasted a long while
though, and they've been gone almost ten minutes."
"But we'll get some more boys and have another rolling just for you
two," declared Bob gallantly.
Ethel bestowed a searching glance upon Dr. Eaton. "We must have gone
farther out of our way than I thought," she said frigidly.
And then, all at once, feeling the interested eyes of "The Merry
Hearts" fastened upon her, she began to blush, just exactly as Betty
Wales or Babbie would have blushed under a similar embarrassment, and
picking up her parasol she hurried off into the house.
"The Merry Hearts" did not know exactly how to interpret this incident.
Its immediate effect was to make the relations between Ethel and Dr.
Eaton a shade less cordial than before. But, as Mary said, you couldn't
judge by appearances.
"We didn't deliberately run away from them," she explained. "You see
our ten boys began chasing a dog down a side street, and of course we
had to chase the boys."
"So they couldn't possibly have caught up with us," put in Madeline,
"but that doesn't account for their coming in at the finish three
large quarters of an hour behind time."
"Well, how do you think they happened to do it?" inquired Babe
scientifically.
"I think," returned Mary, "that they were having an awfully jolly
little talk, and that they forgot the passing of time--or at least Miss
Hale did--and the rules for the dignity of chaperons."
"Yes," said Babbie, "she forgot she was a faculty and acted just like
any other girl. She isn't old; she's just at the nicest age. And isn't
she dear when she blushes?"
"She's always dear," declared Eleanor, remembering her freshman year.
"But do you think," began little Helen Adams anxiously, "that people
generally forget the time until after they've begun to know each other
awfully well?"
Everybody laughed at Helen's theory.
"What do you know about such things, my child?" asked Mary loftily.
"Did you ever go to walk with a man and get lost?"
"Oh, no," answered Helen simply. "I don't know any men. But I have
noticed."
"Well, they've had a week." Mary smiled reminiscently. "You can do
a lot in a week," she announced with a finality that closed the
discussion.