"BREEZY INN"
Sure enough, the tiny box contained a small key tied with a bit of blue
ribbon. Marjorie looked at it in bewilderment.
"It must unlock something!" cried Molly.
"Molly Moss," exclaimed Uncle Steve, "you have a wonderfully clever
head for your years! How did you ever guess that a key would unlock
something? You must have seen keys before!"
"But she never saw this one," cried Midge. "Oh, Uncle Steve, what is it
for?"
"You've been in suspense quite long enough, and now we'll try to find a
lock for that key to fit. Grandma and I will go first, and if you three
young ladies will follow us, we will go and hunt for a keyhole."
Full of delightful anticipation, the three girls followed their older
leaders. Marjorie was in the middle, her arms twined about Molly and
Stella on either side, and their arms around her. Molly and Midge
wanted to skip, but Stella never skipped, so the result was a somewhat
joggly gait as they went down the path to the orchard.
The south meadow was a wide expanse of humpy grass-land, with only a
few trees here and there.
Especially fine trees were two that were usually called the twin
maples. These two very old trees grew side by side, their great trunks
not more than four feet apart and their branches so intermingled that
they were practically one tree in two parts. The delightful shade of
this double tree afforded a favorite playground for the children, and
they had missed it during the past week when they were forbidden to go
into the meadow.
As they neared the meadow, Marjorie grew more and more amazed. There
was nothing unusual in sight: no swing, no merry-go-round, and
certainly nothing that a key could unlock. They reached the twin
maples, and then Uncle Steve said: "If you'll all step around to the
other side of this tree I think we may discover that missing keyhole."
The girls scampered around, and, looking up into the tree, they saw
such an astonishing sight that the three simply sat down on the ground
and stared at it. It was nothing more nor less than a house, a real
little house high above the ground and nestled into the branches of the
trees, just as a bird's nest might be.
The house, which was big enough for the girls to have gone into if they
could have reached it, had a front door and a window on either side.
There was a veranda on which stood three small rustic benches, quite
strong enough to have held the three girls had they had wings to fly up
there. The veranda had a railing around it, above which hung two
hanging-baskets filled with bright flowers.
The door was shut and a keyhole could be distinctly seen.
"There's the keyhole, Mopsy, which I have reason to think will fit your
key," said Uncle Steve.
"But I can't reach up to it," said Marjorie, looking very puzzled.
"What's the house for? Is it for birds?"
"Yes, for three birds that I know of, who wear gingham dresses and hair
ribbons."
"But we don't wear wings," interrupted Marjorie. "Oh, Uncle Steve, do
tell me what that house is for!"
"It's for you, chickabiddy, and if you'd like to go up there I'll show
you a way."
Uncle Steve stepped over to the double trunk, and reaching up pulled
down something, which proved to be a weight hung on the end of a long
cord. The cord reached up to the veranda of the little house.
"Here," said Uncle Steve, as he put the weight into Marjorie's hand,
"this is perhaps as useful a birthday gift as the key I gave you. Pull
hard, and see what happens."
Marjorie pulled hard, and as she pulled, a rope ladder came tumbling
down from the edge of the little porch. It was a queer-looking ladder,
the sides being of rope and the rounds of wood, while the top seemed to
be securely fastened to the veranda floor.
"There you are," said Uncle Steve; "there's your birthday gift, and all
you have to do is to skip up there, unlock the door, and take
possession."
But instead of doing this, Marjorie, with a squeal of delight, threw
her arms around Uncle Steve's neck.
"You dear, old, blessed uncle!" she cried. "I understand it all now;
but truly I couldn't think how we were ever going to get up there. It's
a lovely surprise, the best I ever had! You are SO good to me, and
Grandma, too!"
Having nearly squeezed the breath out of Uncle Steve, Marjorie left
him, and flying over to Grandma, treated her to a similar
demonstration. And then, with her precious key tightly clasped in her
hand, she started to climb the rather wabbly ladder. Impetuous Molly
was crazy to follow, but Uncle Steve declared that it was the law of
the house that there must never be more than one on the ladder at a
time.
Though Marjorie became accustomed to it afterward, it was not an easy
matter to climb the rope ladder for the first time; but under Uncle
Steve's direction she began to learn the trick of it, and safely
reached the top. Agile Molly scrambled up as if she had been used to
rope ladders all her life; but to timid Stella the climbing seemed an
impossible feat. But Uncle Steve held the ladder firmly at the bottom,
and Marjorie encouraged her from the top, while Molly threw herself
flat on the porch and reached down a helping hand.
At last the three girls were safely on the little veranda, and the
sensation was as delightful as it was strange. To sit on the little
benches, high above the ground, and look out straight across the
meadow; and then, turning to either side, to see the great limbs and
branches of the old maple-trees, was indeed a fairy-tale experience.
Over the door swung a quaint little old-fashioned signboard, on which
in gilt letters were the words "Breezy Inn."
With bewildering anticipations of further delight, Marjorie took her
little key and unlocked the door.
Grandma and Uncle Steve, watching from below, heard shouts of joy as
the girls disappeared through the doorway.
But in a moment they reappeared at the windows, and their beaming faces
told the tale of their happiness.
"Good-by," called Uncle Steve, "the presentation is over and 'Breezy
Inn' is yours. I've fastened the ladder firmly, so you can go up and
down as you choose. The furnishings are your birthday present from
Grandma, but we're going back now to a house that we can get into; and
you children had better show up there about dinner-time. Meanwhile,
have all the fun you can."
Grandma and Uncle Steve went away, leaving the children to explore and
make acquaintance of "Breezy Inn."
It was a fairy house, indeed; and yet, though tiny, everything seemed
to be just large enough.
The interior of the house was one large room; and a smaller room, like
an ell, at the back. The large room contained the front door and two
front windows, also a window at each end. The smaller room had no outer
exit, but three windows gave ample light and air.
The front room, or living-room, as Marjorie termed it, was pleasantly
furnished. On the floor was a rug of grass-matting and the furniture
was of light wicker. The sofa, chairs, and tables were not of a size
for grown people, but were just right for twelve-year-old little girls.
At one end were a few built-in bookshelves; at the other a wardrobe or
cupboard, most convenient to keep things in.
Grandma's handiwork was shown in some dear little sofa-pillows and
chair-cushions, in dainty, draped curtains and table covers.
The room at the back, Marjorie declared was a workroom. In the middle
was a large table, just splendid to work at when making paper-dolls'
houses or anything like that; and round the room were shelves and
cupboards to hold materials.
"It just takes my breath away!" said Marjorie, as she sank down on the
settee in the living-room; "I never saw anything like it! Can't we have
just the best fun here all summer!"
"I should say we could!" declared Molly. "It seems almost as if it must
be our birthdays too. We'll have just as much fun here as you will,
Midge."
"Why, I couldn't have any fun at all without you two; at least, it
would be very lonesome fun."
"I don't see how they ever built it," said Molly, who, by way of
finding out, was hanging out of a window as far as she could and
investigating the building.
"I know," said the wise Stella; "I read about one once; they nail the
beams and things to the trunks of the trees and then they nail boards
across, and then they build the house. But the one I read about wasn't
as nice as this."
"I don't think there could be one as nice as this," declared Marjorie;
"and we can fix it up a lot yet, you know. I shall bring some things
down from my room, some of my favorite books for the book-shelves, and
things like that."
"Do you suppose it will rain in, ever?" asked the practical Stella.
"No, of course not," said Molly, who was still examining the carpenter
work. "See, these windows slide shut sideways, and then if you shut the
door tight the rain couldn't get in, unless the roof leaks."
"Of course it doesn't!" declared Midget; "Uncle Steve wouldn't build me
a house with a leaky roof. Did you ever see such cunning window
curtains! Of course we don't need blinds, for the tree keeps the sun
out. It does seem so queer to look out of the window and see only a
tree."
"Look out of the front door," said Molly, "and you won't see a tree
then. You'll just see grass and sky and cows. But what's this thing at
the back, Mopsy? It looks like a pair of well-buckets."
"I don't know. What can it be?" said Mopsy, running to look.
There was a queer contraption that seemed to be something like a
windlass and something like a dumbwaiter. It was at the very end of the
veranda around the corner of the house.
"I know," said Stella quietly; "it's a kind of an elevator thing to
pull up things when you want to."
"Why, so it is!" cried Marjorie. "This is the way it works." And
releasing a big wooden button, she let the whole affair slide to the
ground, and, then, grasping the handle of a crank, she began to draw it
up again.
"Well, if that isn't great!" cried Molly. "We can boost up all sorts of
things!"
"Here's something to boost up now," said Marjorie, who had spied Jane
coming across the fields, with what was undoubtedly a tray of
refreshment.
And sure enough, Grandma had sent some ginger-snaps and lemonade to
furnish the first feast at "Breezy Inn."
"Your grandma wouldn't send much," explained Jane, "for she says you
must all come back to the house at one o'clock for the birthday dinner,
and it's well after eleven now. She sent your clock, Miss Midget, so
you'll know when to come."
Apparently Jane knew more about the ways and means of "Breezy Inn" than
the children did; for she directed them explicitly how to let down the
dumbwaiter, and, then, after having carefully placed on it the tray of
good things and the clock, she advised them about drawing it up. It
worked almost like a well-bucket and was quite easy to manage. The tray
reached the top in safety, and, in great glee, the girls arranged the
little feast on the table in the living-room, and sat down to play
tea-party.
"Isn't this lovely!" exclaimed Molly, as she took her seventh
ginger-snap from the plate. "I don't see how your grandma knew that we
were beginning to get hungry."
"Grandma always seems to know everything that's nice," said Marjorie.
"Some day, girls, let's come out here and spend the whole day. We'll
bring a lot of lunch, you know, and it will be just as if we lived
here."
"Goody!" said Molly. "That will be heaps of fun. We'll all bring
things; I know Mother will give me a pie."
"I'll like it," said Stella, with an expression of great satisfaction;
"because up here you girls can't romp around so and run as you do down
on the ground. When we come for a whole day let's bring a book of fairy
stories and take turns reading aloud."
"All right," said Midge; "let's have it for a sort of a club, and meet
here one day every week."
"Clubs ought to do something," observed Molly. "Charity, you know, or
something like that."
"All right," said Midge; "let's make things and then sell them and get
some money for the Dunns."
"What could we do?" asked Molly. "We couldn't have another bazaar, and,
besides, I think the Dunns have enough money for the present."
"Don't let's work," said Stella, who was not very enterprising; "at
least, not when we're up here. Let's just read or play paper dolls. If
you want to work and make things, do them at home."
"I feel that way, too," said Midget; "let's just keep this for a
playhouse. But maybe it isn't right; maybe we ought to do things for
charity."
"Ask your grandma," said Molly; "she'll know what's right. But I expect
they gave you this house to have fun in."
"I think they did, too," said Marjorie; "and, anyway, Molly, we could
do both. We had lots of fun getting ready for the bazaar, and we did
the charity besides."
"Well, let's read part of the time, anyway," said Stella; "I do love to
read or to be read to."
"We will," agreed Marjorie, amiably, and Molly agreed, too.