IN WHICH JANE STAYS LONGER THAN SHE HAD EXPECTED TO AND WE ENTERTAIN
HER. AS USUAL, FLIP TELLS A STORY
Everyone was rather anxious to see how Mother Dear would receive Jane.
Mother did not take to strange women as a general thing, but, as Flip
explained later, Jane was hardly a woman, so it made matters easy.
Flip was the only one who was embarrassed. He almost ruined his hat,
twisting it out of shape, as he said:
“Mrs. Sherman, this is Jane Houghton. I hope you will like her.”
Mrs. Sherman shook hands with Jane, and the grip of the two women was
like the grip of two men. Jane was not at all ill-at-ease. Then Mrs.
Sherman put her two hands on Jane’s shoulders and suddenly kissed her
on the forehead.
Walter giggled and turned a handspring.
And so, instead of taking the afternoon train back, Jane was invited
to stay as the Shermans’ guest until Monday. Of course, Mother Dear
explained that it was because Martha Mary had asked it and it was her
birthday, but I think Mother was romantic and liked to see Jane and
Flip together. You can never tell what these grown-ups are thinking!
Saturday afternoon, Flip hitched up the do-si-do-cart and in piled
all the children, with Jane and Flip, and they went on the loveliest
picnic they had ever had. Parts of it were a surprise. For example,
they had had no idea that Mother Dear and Father were invited, but when
they reached the Cypress trees near the ocean beach, at sunset, the
first thing they saw was Mother standing near a campfire that Father
had built. There was the most wonderful smell in the air; it was like
fried bacon, and fried bacon it was. There was green corn, too, roasted
in the fire, and chicken cooked on a forked stick, and watermelon and
pancakes and heaps of doughnuts. Everyone ate as much as they could,
and then Father lit his pipe and Mother sat on the ground next to him
and the Children all lay on their stomachs on the sand, with Jane and
Flip, to watch the moon come up over the ocean. Once, when he thought
no one was looking, Flip kissed Jane on the ear, but Edward Lee caught
him, and for punishment Flip had to tell a story. He grumbled and said
it was too nice a night to spoil with his nonsense, but when Jane said:
“Please, Dear,” he couldn’t help it.
“This is to be a story of the trees,” said Flip.
John sniffed. “You always tell about things that are not alive,” he
said. “Father doesn’t. Neither does Captain Mick.”
“But, John,” said Martha Mary, very much surprised, “the trees are
alive.”
“They can’t talk.”
“They could, once,” said Flip. “And they still do talk in their own
language, but of course you cannot understand them.”
“Can Father?” asked Edward Lee.
“I don’t think so,” answered Father.
“Can you, Flip?”
“No, but I know what they mean to say. Listen, now, and I will try
to finish the story before anyone interrupts again. Elizabeth, stop
sticking things in Hermit’s ear! Now--where was I?”
“You hadn’t started,” said Martha Mary.
“All right; then I’ll start with once, years and years ago. It was in a
large forest, way up in the mountains, where there are only wild things
and no men. The trees grow very tall and straight there; the branches
are heavy and the trunks all covered with grey moss, and everything
else is green. The forest, many years ago, was ruled by a lovely
princess. Her name was Shade of the Mountain Lake and she was a large,
lovely, blue crane. The trees just called her ‘Princess,’ because that
was easy to say when the wind hummed in the branches, and ‘Shade of the
Mountain Lake’ was much too long. Princess ruled her tree land for many
years and the wood-folk were glad that they had chosen her, because
she was so wise and graceful and lovely. You see, her soft breast
feathers were colored with the blue of the sky of a Spring morning,
and the grey of her slender neck was taken from the shaded spots near
an old mountain. The green of her eyes once belonged to two splendid
emeralds, and when the emeralds lost their color they became priceless
diamonds. So how could Princess help but be beautiful?
“She was very proud of her kingdom; of the tall green trees and the
blue-green lake and the very blue sky. All day she would fly over the
hills, smiling on her people, sailing here and there, down and up,
sometimes almost to the sun. One day, when she was very high in the
Heavens, she saw, way off across the valley, a spot of red. That was
a color that was not known in the mountains, so she flew with the
wind, out across her valley and another valley until she came to a
land where men lived. And there, what do you think she saw? Fields and
fields and fields of the loveliest wild flowers, all golden and purple
and pink, and gardens with red, red roses, and sweet-smelling lilacs
climbing over the stone walls, and soft-colored fruit blossoms--there
were more flowers than days in a hundred years. All afternoon she flew
over the gardens, smelling the perfumes and always finding something
new to surprise her. When night came she flew back to her kingdom in
the mountains. But she was very sad, for she had thought her land
the loveliest in the world and now she knew that it had none of the
wonderful flowers that grew in the man’s world. All night she grieved
and in the morning called her council to her--a branch of a pine and
a branch of a redwood and a branch of the single oak that grew at the
foot of the mountain. She told them how she had spent the day and how
very, very much she wished her land to have all the colors and not only
the green in Spring and the brown in Autumn. Then the branch of the
single oak spoke and said:
“‘Let me help you. The Pine has always been the most plentiful tree in
the mountains and the Redwood has been the tallest. I have been out of
place and able to do but little save giving shade. Now I think I can
help.’
“She whispered her idea to Princess, and when Princess heard she was so
pleased that she soared high into the sky and sang to the morning sun.
Then down again she flew, and told the silver stream her secret. And
this is what she did:
“First she went to the single oak and took from it several fine, green
branches, all covered with fresh leaves. These she carried one at a
time up the side of the hill and laid them side by side on the grass.
Then she called to the sun and he came over the treetops and warmed the
oak leaves with his golden light. When they were all glowing Princess
called to the clouds and asked for just a little rain. Down it came, so
very quietly that not even the sun went away. And so the drops, falling
through the sunshine to the oak leaves, formed a lovely rainbow. Then
the rain stopped, but the rainbow remained, coloring the oak leaves
with blue and red and gold and amber and violet. Princess was so happy,
then, that she could hardly wait to carry the beautiful colored sprays
into the forest to plant them at the foot of the tall trees. All the
wood-folk--the rabbits and the snakes and the silly young bears--came
out to watch her as she worked. When her task was through she called
all her subjects to her and introduced them to the new color she had
brought into the mountains, and she called it Child of The Oak.
“Child of The Oak grew very much in a short time. She had the form of a
clinging vine; up over the branches of the other trees she crept, just
like a really and truly baby. Her colors were the loveliest you have
ever seen. Just think of leaves that were golden red as the loveliest
poppies and green as the wildest hillside and violet like the softest
field flowers and blue like the morning sky. She was so beautiful that
all the trees grew to love her in a very short time.
“Then, one day, the most awful thing happened.
“It was early morning in the month of May. Across the further valley
and right through the Valley of Shade of The Mountain Lake and up the
hillside and into the mountain land, came a whole school of children,
to the place where no man had ever been before. It was very nice at
first. They sang songs about Angels and Fairies and the one that went
like this:
“I’ll sing you a song of the fields in the Spring
With a chatter of birds in the treetops,
And the poppies and daisies will dance as I sing
And the birdlings will warble and flutter a wing
And the sleepy, fat owl will wake up, the old thing!
As I sing to the birds, the gay happy birds,
The silly young birds in the tree tops.
“Then they tied ribbons to the tallest pine and took hold of the ends
and danced a May dance, and their pink and white dresses, with their
baby cheeks all flushed, and their golden hair waving, they looked just
like the South Wind.
“But of course such nice things could never last. Pretty soon one of
the children found a spray of Child of The Oak and plucked it and
carried it to the awfully awesome person who was in charge of the
party. She said it was:
“‘Remarkably beautiful and most ethereal,’ and, although I haven’t an
idea what that means, I know by the way she said it that it must be
something hateful. Back she sent the children to gather as much as
they could find. They rushed about tearing Child of The Oak up by the
roots and it hurt just as much as though someone were to pull Liza’s
hair. The tall trees all hung their heads so they wouldn’t see Child
of The Oak suffer and the Mother Oak moaned and held out her arms, but
of course no human being could understand her. It was so pitiful, so
unfair, and no one knew the least thing to do. And then, what do you
think? Guess what, Edward Lee! What do you think, Walter? Oh, you never
can guess!
“Down from the top of the mountain came the North Wind. Princess went
to him, weeping, and, ‘Father Wind,’ she cried, ‘can’t you help Child
of The Oak?’
“‘Certainly,’ said North Wind. Down to the May party he swept and blew
deep breaths of the pollen that grows on dryads’ wings all over the
Child of Oak branches. The pollen that grows on dryads’ wings is deadly
poison, you know. So, as soon as the children touched it, they became
ill; they found spots of red on their arms, and their faces became
swollen as though they had mumps. They itched simply miserably, and all
went home sick, and had to be put to bed with salves all over them. And
so, they never dared touch Child of The Oak again, because the North
Wind had put the poison on her to protect her. When the men came to the
mountains they never touched the lovely colored leaves, for they called
them ‘Poison Oak.’
“But Princess did not mind, because she knew that the real name was
Child of The Oak and that Child of The Oak was the loveliest child in
all the hill world.”