THE WONDER-BALL BEGINS TO UNWIND
Lloyd's wonder-ball began to unroll the morning that her father took her
to town to choose her own steamer trunk, and some of the things that were
to go in it. She packed and unpacked it many times in the two weeks that
followed, although she knew that Mom Beck would do the final packing, and
probably take out half the things which she insisted upon crowding into
it.
Every morning it was a fresh delight to waken and find it standing by her
dressing-table, reminding her of the journey they would soon begin
together, and, when the journey was actually begun, she settled back in
her seat with a happy sigh.
"Now, I'll commence to count my packages as they fall out," she said. "I
think I ought to count what I see from the car windows as one, for I enjoy
looking out at the different places we pass moah than I evah enjoyed my
biggest pictuah books."
"Then count this number two," said her father, putting a flat, square
parcel in her lap. Lloyd looked puzzled as she opened it. There was only a
blank book inside, bound in Russia leather, with the word "Record" stamped
on it in gilt.
"I thought it would be a good idea to keep a partnership diary," he said.
"We can take turns in writing in it, and some day, when you are grown, and
your mother and I are old and gray, it will help us to remember much of
the journey that otherwise might pass out of our memories. So many things
happen when one is travelling, that they are apt to crowd each other out
of mind unless a record is kept of them."
"We'll begin as soon as we get on the ship," said Lloyd. "Mothah shall
write first, then you, and then I. And let's put photographs in it, too,
as Mrs. Walton did in hers. It will be like writing a real book. Package
numbah two is lovely, Papa Jack."
It happened that Mr. Sherman was the only one who made an entry in the
record for more than a week. Mrs. Sherman felt the motion of the vessel
too much to be able to do more than lie out on deck in her steamer-chair.
The Little Colonel, while she was not at all seasick, was afraid to
attempt writing until she reached land.
"The table jiggles so!" she complained, when she sat down at a desk in the
ship's library. "I'm afraid that I'll spoil the page. You write it, Papa
Jack." She put back the pen, and stood at his elbow while he wrote.
"Put down about all the steamah lettahs that we got," she suggested, "and
the little Japanese stove Allison Walton sent me for my muff, and the
books Rob sent. Oh, yes! And the captain's name and how long the ship is,
and how many tons of things to eat they have on board. Mom Beck won't
believe me when I tell her, unless I can show it to her in black and
white."
After they had explored the vessel together, her father was ready to
settle down in his deck-chair in a sheltered corner, and read aloud or
sleep. But the Little Colonel grew tired of being wrapped like a mummy in
her steamer rug. She did not care to read long at a time, and she grew
tired of looking at nothing but water. Soon she began walking up and down
the deck, looking for something to entertain her. In one place some little
girls were busy with scissors and paint-boxes, making paper dolls. Farther
along two boys were playing checkers, and, under the stairs, a group of
children, gathered around their governess, were listening to a fairy tale.
Lloyd longed to join them, for she fairly ached for some amusement. She
paused an instant, with her hand on the rail, as she heard one sentence:
"And the white prince, clasping the crystal ball, waved his plumed cap to
the gnome, and vanished."
Wondering what the story was about, Lloyd walked around to the other side
of the deck, only to find another long uninteresting row of sleepy figures
stretched out in steamer-chairs, and half hidden in rugs and cloaks. She
turned to go back, but paused as she caught sight of a girl, about her own
age, standing against the deck railing, looking over into the sea. She was
not a pretty girl. Her face was too dark and thin, according to Lloyd's
standard of beauty, and her mouth looked as if it were used to saying
disagreeable things.
But Lloyd thought her interesting, and admired the scarlet jacket she
wore, with its gilt braid and buttons, and the scarlet cap that made her
long plaits of hair look black as a crow's wing by contrast. Her hair was
pretty, and hung far below her waist, tied at the end with two bows of
scarlet ribbon.
The girl glanced up as Lloyd passed, and although there was a cool stare
in her queer black eyes, Lloyd found herself greatly interested. She
wanted to make the stranger's acquaintance, and passed back and forth
several times, to steal another side glance at her. As she turned for the
third time to retrace her steps, she was nearly knocked off her feet by
two noisy boys, who bumped against her. They were playing horse, to the
annoyance of all the passengers on deck, stepping on people's toes,
knocking over chairs, and stumbling against the stewards who were hurrying
along with their heavy trays of beef tea and lemonade.
Lloyd had seen the boys several times before. They were little fellows of
six and nine, with unusually thin legs and shrill voices, and were always
eating.
Every time a deck steward passed, they grabbed a share of whatever he
carried. They seemed to have discovered some secret passage to the ship's
supplies. Their blouses were pouched out all around with the store of
gingersnaps, nuts, and apples which they had managed to stow away as a
reserve fund. Lloyd had seen the larger boy draw out six bananas, one
after another, from his blouse, and then squirm and wriggle and almost
stand on his head to reach the seventh, which had slipped around to his
back while he was eating the others. They were munching raisins now, as
they ran.
After their collision with Lloyd they stopped running, and suddenly began
calling, "Here, Fido! Here, Fido!" Lloyd looked around eagerly, expecting
to see some pet dog, and wishing that she had one of the many pet animals
left behind at Locust, to amuse her now. But no dog was in sight. The girl
in the scarlet jacket turned around with an angry scowl.
"Stop calling me that, Howl Sattawhite!" she exclaimed, crossly. "I'll
tell mamma. You know what she said she'd do to you if you called me
anything but Fidelia."
"And you know what she said she'd do to you if you kept calling me Howl,"
shouted the larger of the boys, making a saucy face and darting forward to
give one of her long plaits of hair a sudden pull.
Quick as a flash, Fidelia turned, and catching him by the wrists, twisted
them till he began to whimper with pain, and tried to set his teeth in her
hand.
"You _dare_ bite me, you little beast!" she cried. "You just dare, and
I'll tell mamma how you spit at the waiter the morning we left the hotel."
Lloyd was scandalised. They were quarrelling like two little dogs,
seemingly unconscious of the fact that a hundred people were within
hearing. As Fidelia seemed to be getting the upper hand, the little
brother joined in, calling in a high piping voice, "And if you squeal on
Howell, Fidelia Sattawhite, I'll tell mamma how you went out walking by
yourself in New York when she told you not to, and took her new purse and
lost it! So there, Miss Smarty!"
"Oh, those dreadful American children!" said an English woman near Lloyd.
"They're all alike. At least the ones who travel. I have never seen any
yet that had any manners. They are all pert and spoiled. Fancy an English
child, now, making such a scene in public!"
The Little Colonel could feel her face growing painfully red. She was
indignant at being classed with such rude children, and walked quickly
away. At the cabin door she met a maid, who, coming out on deck with
something wrapped carefully in an embroidered shawl, sat down on one of
the empty benches.
Scarcely was she seated when the two boys pounced down upon her and began
pulling at the blanket. "Oh, let me see Beauty, Fanchette," begged Howell.
"Make him sit up and do some tricks."
The maid pushed them away with a strong hand, and then carefully drew
aside a corner of the covering. Lloyd gave an exclamation of pleasure, for
the head that popped out was that of a bright little French poodle. She
had thought many times that morning of the two Bobs, and good old Fritz,
dead and gone, of Boots, the hunting-dog, and the goat and the gobbler
and the parrot,--all the animals she had loved and played with at Locust,
wishing she had them with her. Now as she saw the bright eyes of the
poodle peeping over the blanket, she forgot that she was a stranger, and
running across the deck, she stooped down beside it.
"Oh, the darling little dog!" she exclaimed, touching the silky hair
softly. "May I hold him for a minute?"
The maid smiled, but shook her head. "Ah, that the madame will not allow,"
she said.
"It cost a thousand dollars," explained Howell, eagerly, "and mamma thinks
more of it than she does of us. Doesn't she, Henny?"
The small boy nodded with a finger in his mouth.
"Show her Beauty's bracelet, Fanchette," said Howell. Turning back another
fold of the blanket, the maid lifted a little white paw, on which sparkled
a tiny diamond bracelet. Lloyd drew a long breath of astonishment. "Some
of its teeth are filled with gold," continued Howell. "We had to stay a
whole week in New York while Beauty was in the dog hospital, having them
filled. They could only do a little at a time. One of his tricks is to
laugh so that he shows all his fillings. Laugh, Beauty!" he commanded.
"Laugh, old fellow, and show your gold teeth!"
He shook a dirty finger in the poodle's face, and it obediently stretched
its mouth, to show all its little gold-filled teeth.
"See!" exclaimed Howell, much pleased. "Do it again!"
But the maid interfered. "Your mother told you not to touch Beauty again.
You'd have the poor little thing's mouth stretched till it had the
face-ache, if you weren't watched all the time. Go away! You are a naughty
boy!"
Howell's lips shot out in a sullen pout, and the maid, not knowing what he
might do next, rose with the poodle in her arms and walked to the other
side of the vessel.
"Wish't the little beast was dead!" he muttered. "I get scolded and
punished for nothing at all whenever it is around. It and Fidelia! I
haven't any use for girls and puppy-dogs!"
After this uncivil remark he waited for the angry retort which he thought
would naturally follow, but to his surprise Lloyd only laughed
good-naturedly. She found him amusing, even if he was rude and cross, and
she could not wonder that he had such an opinion of girls, after
witnessing his quarrel with Fidelia. The boys had begun it, but she was
older and could have turned it aside had she wished. And she thought it
perfectly natural that he should dislike the dog if he thought his mother
preferred its comfort to his.
"You'd like dogs if you could have one like my old Fritz," began Lloyd,
glad of some one to talk to. Sitting down on the bench that the maid had
left, she began talking of him and the pony and the other pets at Locust,
At first the boys listened carelessly. Howell cracked his whip, and
Henderson slapped his feet with the ends of the reins he wore. They were
not used to having stories told them, except when they were being scolded,
and their mother or the maid told them tales of what happens to bad little
boys when they will not obey. Although Lloyd's wild ride in a hand-car
with one of the two little knights began thrillingly, they listened with
one foot out, ready to run at first word of the moral lecture which they
thought would surely come at the end.
The poodle had a maid to make it happy and comfortable, every moment of
its pampered little life. The boys had some one to see that they were
properly clothed and fed, and their nursery at home looked as if a toy
store had been emptied into it. But no one took any interest in their
amusement. When they asked questions the answer always was, "Oh, run along
and don't bother me now." There were no quiet bedtime talks for them to
smooth the snarls out of the day. Their mother was always dining out or
receiving company at that time, and their nurse hurried them to sleep with
threats of the bugaboos under the bed that would catch them if they were
not still. They suspected that the Little Colonel's stories would soon
lead to a lecture on quarrelling.
Presently they forgot their fears in the interest of the tale. The
youngest boy sidled a little nearer and climbed up on the end of the bench
beside her. Then Howell, dragging his whip behind him, came a step closer,
then another, till he too was on the bench beside her.
She had never had such a flattering audience. They never took their eyes
from her face, and listened with such breathless attention that she talked
on and on, wondering how long she could hold their interest.
"They listen to me just as people do to Betty," she thought, proudly. An
hour went by, and half of another, and the bugle blew the first
dinner-call.
"Go on," demanded Howell, edging closer. "We ain't hungry. Are we,
Henny?"
"But I must go and get ready for dinner," said Lloyd, rising.
"Will you tell us some more to-morrow?" begged Howell, holding her skirts
with his dirty little hand.
"Yes, yes," promised Lloyd, laughing and breaking loose from his hold.
"I'll tell you as many stories as you want."
It was a rash promise, for next day, no sooner had she finished breakfast
and started to take her morning walk around the deck with her father, than
the boys were at her heels. They were eating bananas as they staggered
along, and as fast as one disappeared another was dragged out of their
blouses, which seemed pouched out all around their waists with an
inexhaustible supply. Up and down they followed her, until Papa Jack began
to laugh, and ask what she had done to tame the little savages.
As soon as she stopped at her chair they dropped down on the floor,
tailor-fashion, waiting for her to begin. Their devotion amused her at
first, and gratified her later, when the English woman who had complained
of their manners stopped to speak to her.
"You are a real little 'good Samaritan,'" she said, "to keep those two
nuisances quiet. The passengers owe you a vote of thanks. It is very sweet
of you, my dear, to sacrifice yourself for others in that way."
Lloyd grew very red. She had not looked upon it as a sacrifice. She had
been amusing herself. But after awhile story-telling did become very
tiresome as a steady occupation. She groaned whenever she saw the boys
coming toward her.
Fidelia joined them on several occasions, but her appearance was always
the signal for a quarrel to begin. Not until one morning when the boys
were locked in their stateroom for punishment, did she have a chance to
speak to Lloyd by herself.
"The boys opened a port-hole this morning," explained Fidelia. "They had
been forbidden to touch it. Poor Beauty was asleep on the couch just under
it, and a big wave sloshed over him and nearly drowned him. He was soaked
through. It gave him a chill, and mamma is in a terrible way about him.
Howl and Henny told Fanchette they wanted him to drown. That's why they
did it. They will be locked up all morning. I should think that you'd be
glad. I don't see how you stand them tagging after you all the time. They
are the meanest boys I ever knew."
"They are not mean to me," said Lloyd. "I can't help feelin' sorry for
them." Then she stopped abruptly, with a blush, feeling that was not a
polite thing to say to the boys' sister.
"I'm sure I don't see why you should feel sorry for them," said Fidelia,
angrily. At which the Little Colonel was more embarrassed than ever. She
could not tell Fidelia that it was because a little poodle received the
fondling and attention that belonged to them, and that it was Fidelia's
continual faultfinding and nagging that made the boys tease her. So after
a pause she changed the subject by asking her what she wanted most to see
in Europe.
"Nothing!" answered Fidelia. "I wouldn't give a penny to see all the old
ruins and cathedrals and picture galleries in the world. The only reason
that I care to go abroad is to be able to say I have been to those places
when the other girls brag about what they've seen. What do you want to
see?"
"Oh, thousands of things!" exclaimed Lloyd. "There are the châteaux where
kings and queens have lived, and the places that are in the old songs,
like Bonnie Doon, and London Bridge, and Twickenham Ferry. I want to see
Denmark, because Hans Christian Andersen lived there, and wrote his fairy
tales, and London, because Dickens and Little Nell lived there. But I
think I shall enjoy Switzerland most. We expect to stay there a long time.
It is such a brave little country. Papa has told me a great deal about
its heroes. He is going to take me to see the Lion of Lucerne, and to
Altdorf, under the lime-tree, where William Tell shot the apple. I love
that story."
"Well, aren't you _queer!_" exclaimed Fidelia, opening her eyes wide and
looking at Lloyd as if she were some sort of a freak. It was her tone and
look that were offensive, more than her words. Lloyd was furious.
"No, I am _not_ queah, Miss Sattawhite!" she exclaimed, moving away much
ruffled. As she flounced toward the cabin, her eyes very bright and her
cheeks very red, she looked back with an indignant glance. "I wish now
that I'd told her why I'm sorry for Howl and Henny. I'd be sorry for
anybody that had such a rude sistah!"
But there were other children on the vessel whose acquaintance Lloyd made
before the week was over. She played checkers and quoits with the boys,
and paper dolls with the girls, and one sunny morning she was invited to
join the group under the stairs, where she heard the story of the white
prince from beginning to end, and found out why he vanished.
Those were happy days on the big steamer, despite the fact that Howl and
Henny haunted her like two hungry little shadows. Sometimes the captain
himself came down and walked with her. The Shermans sat at his table, and
he had grown quite fond of the little Kentucky girl with her soft Southern
accent. As they paced the deck hand in hand, he told her marvellous tales
of the sea, till she grew to love the ship and the heaving water world
around them, and wished that they might sail on and on, and never come to
land until the end of the summer.