"But the very idea of them is so loathsome."
"It isn't unless you make it so," put in Polly. "I like all kinds of
little creatures so long as they don't bite or sting, and some of
those, like bees, for example, I like, though I don't want them to get
too near me. Of course when it comes to rattlesnakes or copperheads,
or such, I am afraid of them, but these little grass snakes are
different."
But Mary could not be persuaded to give up her prejudices and would
none of the snakes, so they decided to gather buttercups, and wandered
off among the soft grasses on the hilltop. But it was only when they
saw Luella wildly waving the dish-cloth to attract their attention that
they remembered the baby. Then they started toward the cottage
post-haste, arriving there to find Miss Ada walking the floor with the
baby and trying to still its cries.
"What is the matter with her?" cried Molly rushing in. "We thought she
was sound asleep."
"Babies don't sleep forever," remarked Luella sarcastically. "Here,
Miss Ada, I'm used to 'em. Let me see if there's a pin stickin' her
anywhere; there's no knowin' what foolin' with her clothes these
children have been doin'."
The children dared not protest against this charge while Miss Ada said:
"Oh, I have looked and she seems all right," but she relinquished the
baby into Luella's capable hands.
That young woman turned the screaming infant over, felt for an
offending pin, turned her back again, and finally laid her across her
knees and began to pat her on the back. "I guess she's got colic," she
decided. "Molly, you just step up to Mis' Chris Fisher's and see if
she's got a handful of catnip. She mostly does keep it, seein' she
always has got a baby on hand. There, there, there," she tried to
soothe the child on her knees. "Miss Ada, you'll either have to take
her or see to them pies in the oven; I can't do both."
"Oh, I'll see to the pies," responded Miss Ada escaping to the kitchen.
Molly was already on her way to Mrs. Chris Fisher's. Polly vainly
tried to attract the baby's attention by every means within her power.
Mary stood by suggesting alternately mustard poultices and ginger tea,
which suggestions Luella contemptuously put aside.
"I don't see what's the matter with her unless it is colic," she
remarked. "She may be subject to it; I ain't heard say. I'll ask Ora
next time I go out. When was she fed last?"
"Why, I don't know." The two little girls looked at each other. "Did
you give her the bottle, Mary?" asked Polly.
"No," was the reply.
"Maybe Molly did. I reckon it was Molly; she was playing she was
mother this morning, you know." Luella said nothing but continued the
rocking movement of her knees till Molly came in, breathless, with the
bunch of dried catnip.
"I suppose she's been fed regular," said Luella addressing Molly, "and
you've took care to give her the milk warm."
"Oh, dear!" Molly stood still. "I forgot she had to be fed oftener
than we are, and oh, Luella, I am afraid the last milk she took wasn't
real warm."
"Then no wonder she's yellin' like mad," said Luella disgustedly.
"You're a nice set to take care of a young un. Here, some of you hold
her whilst I get her milk and give it to her right. If she ain't got
colic from cold milk she's starvin'."
Molly meekly took charge of the screaming child who did not cease its
crying till Luella, returning with the bottle of milk, thrust the
rubber nipple into its mouth; then suddenly all was quiet. "Just what
I thought; half starved," said Luella. "It looks as if I'd got to see
to the youngster, if she stays here. Miss Ada's not much better than
the rest of you. What does she know about babies? I guess Ellis can
beat the best of you, after all, when it comes to 'tendin' babies."
The little girls felt properly abashed. Only the second day of the
baby's stay and she had gone hungry for an hour, while the day before
she had been overfed. It did not look as if their benevolent plan
worked very well, and indeed, by the end of the week, Miss Ada decided
that Miss Myrtle must return to her own. This was made easier by her
grandmother's arrival upon the scene, and there were helpers enough to
relieve Ellis for at least half the day. However the interest in
Parker Dixon's family did not end at once.
_CHAPTER IX_
_New Burdens for Ellis_
The three cousins were having a tea on the rocks with their friend
Grace Wharton. Luella had baked them some tiny biscuits and some wee
ginger-snaps; they had made the fudge themselves, and as for the tea,
the amount Miss Ada allowed them would not affect the nerves of any one
of the four. There was plenty of hot water in the little brass
tea-kettle, and an unlimited supply of milk and sugar. A big flat rock
served as a table, and smaller ones gave them excellent seats.
They had just finished eating the last of the cakes and were nibbling
the fudge when Polly, perched highest on the rocks, exclaimed: "There's
Granville talking to Luella! I wonder what he is doing up here this
time of day. They look real excited. There, Luella is going into the
house. Now Aunt Ada has come out with her and they are all talking
together. I believe I'll go up and see what it is all about. Don't
eat up all the fudge."
"Hurry back then," Molly called after her. "Let's hide it, girls, and
pretend when she comes back that we've eaten it all up."
"I'll hide it," said Grace. She ran down a little way below them and
poked the remaining pieces of fudge into a crevice in the rock, and
then returned to await Polly's return, who in a few minutes came
running back. "Oh," she said, "I have something to tell you. Our poor
little baby hasn't any father. He has been drowned."
"Oh, how dreadful!" Three pairs of startled eyes showed how this news
affected the little tea-drinkers.
"Do tell us about it," said Molly setting down the cup from which she
was draining the last sugary drop.
"I didn't hear all about it," Polly told them, "but I know he tried to
save one of his shipmates and couldn't, and they were both drowned.
Luella is going down to stay with Ora's children this afternoon. They
haven't told Leona yet, and poor Ellis is perfectly distracted,
Granville says. Isn't it sad, when Leona has been so ill and now this
dreadful thing has happened?"
"I feel so very sorry for Ellis," remarked Mary.
"So do I," said Polly, "for the baby isn't big enough to know, and
maybe Leona can get another husband, but Ellis can't get another
brother."
They all agreed that this was a plain fact and sat quite solemnly
looking off at the blue sea which had so cruelly swallowed up Parker.
At last Polly gave a long sigh, and she broke the silence by
exclaiming, "There, you mean piggies, you ate up all the fudge!"
"You were gone so long," said Molly giving Grace a nudge.
"I don't care; you ought to have saved an extra piece for my bringing
you such exciting news."
"But it was such sad news," said Grace turning away her head so Polly
could not see her smile.
"If it is sad you needn't laugh about it," said Polly severely. "I
believe you hid it!" she exclaimed suddenly.
"If you think so, look for it," said Molly. And Polly immediately set
to work to search each one of the party, but could not find a crumb of
fudge.
Then she seized Molly, playfully shaking her. "Tell me truly, did you
eat it all?"
Amid her struggles to free herself, Molly confessed that they had not.
"But, I can't find it," Polly persisted. "Do you know where it is,
Molly?"
"No."
"Oh, Molly!" This from Grace.
"I don't exactly know. You hid it," said Molly.
"Then Grace Wharton, tell me." Polly loosed her hold upon Molly, and
turned to Grace.
"No, the first that finds it can divide it and can have an extra piece."
In vain the three searched up and down the cliff. "Grace said she hid
it between two rocks," announced Molly at last.
"Then she's just got to find it," said Polly. "Grace! Grace!" she
called. And Grace responded by appearing on the rocks above them.
"You'll have to show us where you hid it."
On Grace's face was an expression of concern as she came swiftly
clambering down to them. "Why, girls," she cried as she reached the
spot where they stood, "I'm awfully afraid that---- Oh, dear, why
didn't I remember about the tide; I'm afraid they're spoiled." She ran
to a rock a little lower down.
"Look out or you'll get splashed," warned Molly. "There's a big wave
coming in."
Grace sprang back to avoid the swash of water which poured over the
rock at her feet; then she exclaimed ruefully: "If I wasn't sure
before, I am now! The fudge is just under that rock, between those two
small ones."
"Then it's simply all salty, if it isn't gone entirely," declared
Molly. True enough when they examined the spot, during a lull in the
inpour of waves, they discovered only a couple of water-soaked bits of
fudge, fast melting away.
"Our joke didn't turn out very well," said Molly turning to Polly.
"Oh, never mind," returned Polly cheerfully, "it would all be eaten up
and forgotten anyhow if I had not gone up to the house, so what's the
difference?"
"I'll make some very soon," Grace assured her. "I'll do it to-night."
"Oh, no, don't mind," said Polly. "We've had enough for to-day. See,
there is Aunt Ada coming down to us. She will tell us more about the
Dixons."
Miss Ada came with a scheme to unfold. "I'm going over to Green
Island," she told them, "and if I am not back in time for supper you
children hunt around and get something for yourselves. Luella has gone
to stay with Ora's family so Ora can be with Leona. She will need all
the comfort she can get. We must try to help the poor girl, for her
illness and all this will take everything they may have saved. Ellis
is pitifully sad, but he says he means to support the family. Poor
little chap, as if he could! I am going to try to arrange a bazaar or
cake sale or something to help them; you children may help if you like."
"Oh, may we? How lovely!" cried Molly.
"I've helped at fairs," said Grace.
"And once I helped my aunt at a tea she gave the village children,"
said Mary.
"I'll do everything I can, though I never saw a fair or a bazaar," said
Polly. "Tell us more about it, Aunt Ada."
"Tell her all you know, girls," said Aunt Ada. "I must go now. You
will not be afraid to stay alone till I get back, will you?"
Her nieces assured her that they would not, and she left them in quite
a state of excitement, for, sad as the occasion was, they could not
help anticipating the pleasure of the bazaar. "We will have such a
lovely time getting ready for the sale," said Molly. "We have had them
here before, and they are lots of fun. I know what I am going to do.
I'm going to the wood-pile and strip off a whole lot of birch bark to
make things of."
"What kind of things?" asked Mary.
"Oh, all sorts of things; napkin rings and picture frames and boxes."
"Oh!" Mary was interested. She had never seen such things except
those that the Indian peddlers brought around to the cottages, and
never did one appear over the brow of the hill, bowed under the burden
of his baskets, that she did not run for her purse, and by now had
quite an array of gifts for her English friends. To add to these a
supply of birch-bark souvenirs which she could make herself was a
prospect truly delightful. "It is very convenient that a quarter is
about the same as a shilling," she remarked, "but I can never remember
that a penny is two cents; it seems as if an American penny should be
the same as an English one."
"I should think you would be glad it isn't," said Polly, "for when you
are counting at the rate of our pennies you have twice as many as you
would have English ones."
"Well, I don't know," said Mary thoughtfully. "I had a whole pound
when I reached here, and Uncle Dick had it changed into American money.
I thought I had such a number of pennies and I found they were only
cents, but then one can buy a great many things here for a cent that
one would have to pay a penny for at home, especially sweets."
That evening she sat fingering her little hoard while Molly was busy
preparing her birch bark. "I think I can do very nicely," announced
Mary. "I shall have a dollar to spend at the bazaar. Oh, is that the
way you do the napkin rings, Molly? Could I do some, do you think?"
"Of course you could," said Molly, encouragingly.
"I know what I am going to do," said Polly, jumping up; "I'm going to
get some tiny pine trees to put into little birch-bark boxes; they will
look so pretty. Come on, Molly, it isn't dark yet."
"Oh, but we mustn't get them now," replied Molly. "We must wait till
the very last thing, so they will look as fresh as possible."
Polly stopped short. In her impetuous way she had forgotten this
important point. "Oh, I never thought of that," she said. "Well,
anyhow, we can make the boxes."
"I don't believe we can do those either," returned Molly, further
dampening Polly's ardor. "We ought to have some small wooden boxes to
tack or glue the bark on. We can try some little baskets with handles,
and we can fill those with fudge or some kind of home-made candy."
"Oh, very well, we'll begin on those, then." And Polly sat down
contentedly with the others to try her ingenuity. They became so
absorbed in their work that they forgot all about supper, the more so
that their afternoon tea had taken the edge from their appetites, and
it was not till the maid from the Whartons came over for Grace, saying
that her grandmother was wondering how much longer they must save her
supper for her that they realized how late it was. Then Grace having
scurried home, the three cousins searched about to see what was in the
larder for themselves. They found plenty of bread and butter,
ginger-snaps and stewed gooseberries, but not much else, so they sat
down contentedly to this fare while the sunset turned from rose to
purple and then to gray. It was late enough in the season for the
evenings to become chilly after sundown, and Polly proposed that they
should have an open fire. "We can sit around and tell stories," she
said, "and we can go on with our work at the same time, so the time
will pass very quickly till Aunt Ada comes back."
"I'll love that," declared Molly. "I think telling stories is the very
nicest way of passing away the time."
"So do I," said Mary, "when I don't have to tell the stories. I never
know anything interesting."
"Oh, but you do," protested Polly. "We like to hear about England, of
how you have to take off your shoes and put on slippers in the
schoolroom, of how you can't walk out without your governess or some
one older and all about not having sweet potatoes nor corn, and of how
tomatoes are grown under glass and all those ways that are so different
from ours."
"But that isn't a real tale," objected Mary.
"Never mind, we like to hear it," said Molly. "What are you doing,
Polly?"
"I am building the fire; there must be a whole lot of light stuff to
set it going."
"That looks like a good deal," said Molly doubtfully regarding the pile
of bark, shaving and light wood that Polly was stowing in the fireplace.
"It will kindle all the quicker," returned Polly in a satisfied voice,
touching the kindling with a lighted match. In an instant not only was
the light stuff all ablaze, but the flames, leaping out, caught the
white apron which Polly had put on, half in sport, when they were
getting their supper. It was one of her Aunt Ada's and reached to
Polly's ankles, so that she seemed enveloped in flames. She shrieked,
but stood still. Quick as a flash Mary caught up the pitcher of water
standing on the table and dashed it over her cousin, then she grabbed
her and threw her on the floor, snatching up the rug from the floor
before doing so, thus protecting herself, and at the same time
providing a means of putting out the fire which she did by rolling
Polly in the rug.
Molly was perfectly helpless with fright and all she could do was to
wring her hands and cry, "Oh, what shall we do? What shall we do? Oh,
Polly, Polly!"
Just as the fire was all crushed out, the door opened and in walked
their Uncle Dick. Molly rushed to him. Throwing herself in his arms,
she cried: "Oh, Polly is burning up! Save her! Save her!"
"What is all this?" said Dick springing forward.
Mary arose from where she was kneeling over Polly. "I think it is all
out now," she said.
Polly unwound herself from her mummy-like case. "Are you badly hurt?"
her uncle asked anxiously.
"No," she said with a sobbing breath; "only my legs hurt me."
"How did it all happen?" said her uncle, picking her up and setting her
in a chair.
"We were kindling the fire," explained Mary, "and Polly's apron caught."
"And Mary saved her life," sobbed Molly completely unnerved. "She
threw water on her, and rolled her in the rug."
"That is what my governess said we should do in such cases," said Mary
quietly, though her face was twitching. "I never loved Miss Sharp
before," she added with a little laugh.
"You certainly did save Polly's life," said her uncle as he examined
Polly's clothing. "Fortunately she has on a woolen frock and has been
only slightly scorched about the legs. The fire evidently did not
reach her bare flesh. You didn't breathe the flames, did you, Polly,
for I see the fire did not go above your waist."
"I am sure I didn't breathe any flames," Polly assured him. "Mary was
so quick. She saw at once that I had caught fire and she threw the
water over me right away, but oh, Uncle Dick, I may not be burned
badly, but it does hurt." And she buried her face on her uncle's
shoulder to hide her tears.
"Poor little girl, I know it hurts," he said. "Get some salad oil,
Molly, and some baking soda; then see if you can find an old
handkerchief or two and some raw cotton. We must try to ease this
wounded soldier. How did you children happen to be here alone?"
Mary explained, her uncle listening attentively. "I wish I had known
it," he said; "I would not have stayed to supper with the boys. We
came in on the Gawthrops' yacht about supper-time and they persuaded me
to stay, but somehow I felt that I ought to get home soon after. You
children must not be left alone again."
"I'll never try to kindle another fire," said Polly woefully. "Molly
said I was putting on too much light stuff and it just leaped out like
a tiger to bite me."
Molly had returned with the oil and other things by this time, and soon
Polly was made as comfortable as her hurts would allow, but it was some
days before she could run about, and if there was anything lacking in
her affection for her English cousin before this, now it was that she
could not bear her out of sight, for Mary, by her coolness and capable
help, had proved herself a heroine to be loved and admired.
Although this scare was the important topic with the family for some
time, the scheme for helping the distressed Dixon family went forward
rapidly and the next week when Polly's burns gave her no more
uneasiness, the bazaar was held. There was no prettier table the
length of the room than that at which Miss Ada presided, assisted by
her three little nieces. Their Uncle Dick had cleverly helped them
with the decorations as well as with their birch bark boxes in which
were planted the little pine trees. These were so much admired that
not one was left after the sale, and Mary had to bespeak some to be
made for her to carry home. Some little packages of fudge and
home-made candies went off rapidly, and of Luella's famous doughnuts
not one was left.
It was at the end of the sale when the biggest, finest cake was yet
waiting a buyer that Polly had a whispered talk with her Uncle Dick and
afterward stood in front of the cake table holding fast to her purse.
The cake in all the deliciousness of nut-spotted icing and rich
interior, was delivered to her when she paid over the amount asked for
it. Taking the treasure in her hands she bore it over to where Mary
was helping her aunt count up the money they had taken in. Polly set
the cake on the table before Mary. "There," she said, "it is all
yours."
"What do you mean?" exclaimed Mary. "Who said so?"
"I say so. I bought it for you because you said it looked so perfectly
delicious."
Mary was quite overcome by Polly's generosity, but she understood the
motive, and accepted the cake graciously, promising to divide it with
the family. It certainly was a delicious cake, and Polly really
enjoyed her share of it, feeling that in this instance she could have
her cake and eat it.
"Over a hundred dollars! I can scarcely believe it," said Miss Ada
when all the receipts were in. But so it was, and so did little Ellis
Dixon have his burdens lifted, for a hundred dollars will go a long way
when fish can be had for the catching, and when one has his own potato
patch.
_CHAPTER X_
_Arabs_
Of all the things which most amused the three little girls and their
friend, Grace, they enjoyed dressing up at dusk, and, in their queer
costumes, going around from cottage to cottage to call. Uncle Dick was
very clever in painting their faces so that they appeared as birds with
owl-like eyes and beaks or as cats, rabbits or some other animal. At
other times they were Indians in war paint and feathers; again they
were Egyptians or Chinese and dressed to suit the character.
"What shall we do this evening?" said Polly one day when the question
of the evening's fun was being talked over. "We want to go to Mrs.
Phillips's this time because she gives us such good cakes."
"It's pretty far," said Molly doubtfully. "It is almost to the
village, and there are some rough boys down that way. I don't mind
going to Mrs. Phillips's in the morning, but if we should happen to get
caught there after the sun goes down I shouldn't like it."
"We needn't get caught late," Polly protested, "besides, it is so much
more mysterious to go around when it is a little bit duskish. It isn't
as if any one of us would be alone; there will be four and nobody
around here would do anything to hurt us, anyhow."
"No, I don't suppose any one really would," Molly returned weakly, her
objections over-ruled. And therefore when the cottages began to loom
darkly against the evening sky, the four little girls sallied forth,
draped in white sheets, and made their way over the hilltop to the road
beyond. They had usually confined their visits to their acquaintances
in the immediate neighborhood, so their aunt did not trouble herself to
inquire where they were going that evening, otherwise she might have
forbidden the walk they had in mind.
"Don't they look like four dear little Arabs?" said Miss Ada to her
brother. "They make a perfect picture as they go over the hill in the
evening light. How much they enjoy these little frolics." She turned
from watching the white-sheeted four who soon disappeared down the road.
It was great fun, thought the girls, to call upon their various friends
and pretend they were foreigners who did not understand the language of
those whom they were visiting; yet they understood enough to accept
refreshments offered them, and managed to say, "thank you" and
"good-bye."
It was after they had been regaled upon cakes and lemonade at Mrs.
Phillips's that the moment came which Molly had been dreading. The
shadows had deepened and the stars were trying to come out, while a
little light still lingered in the western sky. "We'd better not take
the short cut," said Molly. "It is so rough that way, and it is muddy
in places; we'll go around by the road." The lights were twinkling out
from the fishermen's homes and from the vessels anchored in the cove.
There were not many persons on the road, and the four little girls
hastened their steps.
Presently a shout, then the bark of a dog arose from behind them, and
in another minute they were surrounded by a crowd of jeering boys and
barking dogs. "Yaw! Yaw! Yaw!" shouted the boys. "Sic 'em, Sailor!
Sick 'em, Towser!" The dogs nipped at the retreating heels and the
boys twitched the flowing robes of the four Arabs.
"Oh, let us alone! Let us alone!" shrieked Molly.
"Who be ye?" cried one of the boys peering into their faces.
"What ye doin' dressed up this here way?" said another. The paint upon
their faces so disguised them that they were not recognized by any of
the boys, if, indeed, any knew them.
"They ain't none o' our folks," said another boy, trying to jerk off
Polly's head covering.
She turned on him fiercely. "You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,"
she cried. "How would you like any one to treat your sisters so?"
"How'd you like any one to treat your sisters so?" mimicked the boy in
a piping voice. "I ain't got no sister, and if I had she wouldn't be
traipsin' 'round the P'int in circus clothes."
Wrenching herself from the boy's grasp, Polly started to run, the other
girls following. One boy thrust out his foot tripping Grace who fell
sprawling in the dusty road. Her companions stopped in their flight to
come to her rescue. "Oh, you bad, bad boys," cried Molly indignantly.
"If I don't tell Cap'n Dave on you."
"We ain't feared o' Cap'n Dave," was the scoffing reply.
The girls picked up the weeping Grace. "Are you hurt?" they whispered.
"I don't know," whimpered Grace. "Oh, how can we get home? I want to
go home."
Her weeping caused cessation in hostilities for a moment, but as soon
as the four figures started forward they were again surrounded and the
teasing recommenced.
But just as the girls were in despair of ever escaping from their
tormentors, another boy came up. "What's up?" he asked.
"Oh, nawthin'," replied one of the boys laughing. "We cal'late to keep
furriners away from the P'int, and these here ain't dressed like
Amur'cans."
"Who are they?" The boy bent over to peer into Molly's face. She gave
a joyful cry. "Oh, Ellis, Ellis, save us from them. They won't let us
go home."
The newcomer turned. "Say, you fellows," he said. "You'd ought to be
ashamed. These here is friends of mine. If any of you fellows touches
one of 'em, I'll pitch into him like sin. Don't you know who they are?
They're the little gals up to the Reid cottage, that's been so good to
us, nursing the baby and gettin' up that fair and all that."
The boys slunk away. "We didn't know it was them," the largest one
said. "Why didn't they say so? We thought it was that crowd of sassy
youngsters over by Back Landing; they're always so fresh. One of 'em
sneaked off with Dan's boat yesterday and we wanted to pay 'em back."
"I'm awful sorry we scared you," said another boy, coming up. "Was you
hurt, sissy, when you fell down?"
"Oh, no, not so very much," replied Grace, ceasing her sobbing.
"We'll see you home safe," said one of the boys. "Come on, fellers.
Lem, go get a lantern; we're nearest your house."
Lem ran obediently and in a few minutes returned with the big lantern
in his hand. He stalked on ahead, the others trooping after, the dogs
at the heels of their masters. All the way they escorted the little
girls, Ellis not ceasing to voice his indignation, nor the boys to
explain and excuse themselves, and it is needless to say that it was a
relief to all concerned when the wandering Arabs were safe within their
own dwellings.
In spite of the outcome of their adventure, the girls did not care to
repeat it and never again wanted to go beyond the cottages in their own
immediate vicinity. Yet, unpleasant as the experience was, it resulted
in more than one effort on the part of the gang of boys to make up for
their ill behavior. The very next morning after the affair, Polly, who
was the first down-stairs, saw a tall boy coming toward the cottage and
went out on the porch to meet him.
"You one of the little gals that was down the road last night?" he
asked as he came up. "One of them that was dressed up?"