IN the delightful autumn days that followed, the children, accompanied
sometimes by Mrs. Merrithew, sometimes by Katherine, spent much of their
time in the woods, and taking long strolls on the country roads. In
October the woods were a blaze of colour,--clear gold, scarlet, crimson,
coppery brown, and amber. The children brought home great bunches of the
brilliant leaves, and some they pressed and varnished, while others
Katherine dipped in melted wax. They found that the latter way was the
best for keeping the colours, but it was rather troublesome to do. They
pressed many ferns, also, and, when the frosts became keener, collected
numbers of white ferns, delicately lovely. Most of these treasures,
with baskets full of velvety moss and yards of fairy-like wild vines,
were stowed away in a cool storeroom to be used later in the Christmas
decorations.
When the last of October drew near, Mrs. Merrithew made up her mind to
give a little Hallow-eve party. She let the children name the friends
they wished her to ask, and added a few of her own; then they all busied
themselves in preparations, and in making lists of Hallow-eve games and
tricks. At last came the eventful evening, and with it about thirty
merry people, old and young, but chiefly young. All of the Greys were
there, of course; also Mr. Will Graham, who was taking his last year at
college, and who spent most of his spare time at Mr. Merrithew's. So the
whole camping-party met again, and the camp-days, dear and fleeting,
came back in vivid pictures to their minds.
In the Big Brick House was a large room known as "the inner kitchen,"
but used as a kitchen only in the winter. This room Mrs. Merrithew had
given up to the entertainment of the Hallow-eve party. It was
lighted--chiefly, that is, for a few ordinary lamps helped out the
illumination--by lanterns made of hollowed pumpkins. Ears of corn hung
around the mantel, and a pyramid of rosy apples was piled high upon it.
There was a great old-fashioned fireplace here, and a merry fire
sparkled behind the gleaming brass andirons. Every trick that their
hostess's brain could conjure up was tried. Those who cared to, bobbed
for apples in a tub of water, and some were lucky enough to find
five-cent pieces in their russets and pippins. An apple was hung on a
string from the middle of a doorway, then set swinging, and two
contestants tried which could get the first bite,--and this first bite,
gentle reader, is not so easy as you might imagine! A pretty little
ring was laid on a mound of flour, and whoever could lift it out between
their lips, without breaking down the mound, was to win the ring. This
necessitated a great many remouldings of the flour,--but finally the
prize was captured by Miss Covert. A little later, Dora noticed it
hanging on Mr. Graham's watch-guard.
Some of the braver spirits took turns in walking backward down the
garden steps, and to the end of the middle path, a looking-glass in one
hand and a lamp in the other. What each one saw in the looking-glass, or
whether, indeed, they saw anything, was, in most cases, kept a secret,
or confided only to the very especial chum! Then there were fortunes
told by means of cabbages,--a vegetable not usually surrounded with
romantic associations. Marjorie was the first to try this mode of
divination. Well-blindfolded, she ventured alone into the garden, and
came back soon with a long, lean, straggly cabbage with a great deal of
earth attached to its roots. This foretold that her husband would be
tall and thin, and very rich!
There were many other quaint methods of fortune-telling, most of them
derived from Scottish sources. After these had been tried, amid much
merriment, they played some of the old-fashioned games dear to children
everywhere,--blind-man's buff, hunt-the-feather, post-towns, and other
favourites. By and by, when the fun began to flag, and one or two little
mouths were seen to yawn, a long table was brought in and soon spread
with a hearty (but judiciously chosen) Hallow-eve supper.
When the days began to grow short and bleak, and the evenings long and
cosey, the children were thrown more and more upon indoor occupations
for their entertainment. It was on one of these bleak days, when a few
white flakes were falling in a half-hearted way, and the sky was gray
and gloomy, that Jackie had a brilliant idea. Four of them--Katherine,
Marjorie, Dora, and Jackie himself--were sitting by the fire in Mrs.
Merrithew's "Den," the very cosiest room in the house. Mr. Merrithew had
a den, too, but he called his a study. Somehow it looked too much like
an office to suit the children very well. Most of the volumes on his
shelves, too, were clumsy law-books; all the books that any one wanted
to read, except the children's own, were in "mother's den." Then, one
could come to mother's room at any hour of the day or night, while
sometimes no one, excepting Mrs. Merrithew, was admitted to the study.
On this particular day Katherine was reading "Rob Roy," and Jack
building a castle of blocks, while Dora dreamed in the window-seat,
watching the scanty flakes, and Marjorie, on the hearth-rug, tried to
teach reluctant Kitty Grey to beg.
Now Jack had accompanied his mother on the previous Sunday to the
anniversary service of the Sons of England, a well-known patriotic
society. He had been greatly impressed by the procession, the hymns, and
the sermon, and on coming home had asked his father many questions as to
the "why and wherefore" of the society. It was this episode which
suggested the bright idea to his active little brain.
"Aunt Kathie," he said,--for Miss Covert was now a fully accepted
adopted aunt,--"why couldn't _we_ form a patriarchal society?"
"A _what_, dear?" said Kathie, in rather startled tones, laying "Rob
Roy" on the table, for she liked to give her whole mind to Jackie's
propositions and queries.
"A patri--oh, you know what; like the Sons of England, you know!"
"Oh, yes! _Patriotic_, dearie; a patriotic society. You know a patriot
is one who loves his country. What sort of a patriotic society would
you like to have, Jack?"
"Oh, pure Canadian, of course! Let me see,--we couldn't be the Sons of
Canada, because we are not all sons."
"Not _quite_ all," murmured Dora, with drowsy sarcasm, from the window.
"Why not Children of Canada?" suggested Kathie.
"No, Aunt Kathie, that would never do at all, for mother and Daddy and
you must be in it, and you _couldn't_ be called children,--though, of
course, you're not so _very_ old," he added, as if fearing he had hurt
her feelings.
"Well," said Marjorie, thoughtfully, "how would The Maple-leaves, or The
Beavers, do?"
But Jackie scorned this suggestion.
"_Those_ are names that baseball clubs have," he said. "No; I believe
'The Sons and Daughters of Canada' would be the best of all, because
everybody is either a son _or_ a daughter, even twins!"
This statement, and the name, were accepted with acclamation, and the
quartette, entering thoroughly into the spirit of Jackie's plan, helped
him zealously to put it into execution. They insisted that he should be
president, and requested him to choose the other officers. So he made
his father and mother the honourable patrons, Dora and Marjorie
vice-presidents, and Kathie secretary-treasurer. This office, I may
mention, she nobly filled, and also the informal one of general adviser,
suggester, and planner. It was she who proposed the twins, Alice and
Edith, as members, and the president gave his consent, though he
considered Edith rather too young!
"For my part," he said, "I should like Mr. Will Graham, if none of you
would mind!" No one seemed to mind, so Mr. Graham's name was added to
the list, which Katherine was making out beautifully, with Gothic
capitals in red ink, on her very best paper. Her next proposal was a
regular course of study in Canadian history and literature, and this was
enthusiastically received. When Mr. and Mrs. Merrithew came home at
tea-time, they found a well-organized "Sons and Daughters of Canada"
club, and Miss Covert already engaged in composing an article on "The
Beginnings of Canadian History,"--with Jackie in her mind as an
important member of her future audience, and therefore an earnest effort
to make it simple in language and clear in construction.
All through the winter the club flourished, and indeed for a much longer
time. The members met every week, and the history and literature proved
so absorbing that the S. A. D. O. C. night came to be looked forward to
as eagerly by the older as by the younger sons and daughters. Kathie had
the gift of making scenes and people of long-past days live before one,
and Cartier and Champlain, La Salle and De Maisonneuve, and many another
hero became the companions of our patriotic students, both waking and in
their dreams. The works of Canadian poets and novelists began to fill
their book-shelves, and pictures of these celebrities to adorn their
walls. They had regular weekly meetings, at which there were readings
and recitations, and always one short historical sketch. Even Jack
learnt his "piece" each time, and said it with a severe gravity which
seemed to defy any one to smile at a mispronunciation! Mrs. Merrithew
designed their badges,--maple-leaf pins in coloured enamel, with a
little gilt beaver on each leaf,--and Mr. Merrithew had them made in
Montreal. But perhaps the proudest achievement of the club was Alice
Grey's "Sons and Daughters of Canada March," which was played at the
opening and closing of every meeting.
So much pleasure and profit, many happy evenings, and an ever deeper
love for their country, were some of the results of Jackie's bright
idea.