THE BROKEN LADDER
As the days went on, "Breezy Inn" became more and more a delight to the
children. They never grew tired of it, but, on the contrary, new
attractions connected with it were forever developing. Many additions
had been made to the furnishings, each of the three girls having
brought over treasures from her own store.
They had reading days, and paper-doll days, and game-playing days, and
feast days, and days when they did nothing but sit on the little
veranda and make plans. Often their plans were not carried out, and
often they were, but nobody cared much which way it happened. Sometimes
Stella sat alone on the little porch, reading. This would usually be
when Molly and Midge were climbing high up into the branches of the old
maple-trees. It was very delightful to be able to step off of one's own
veranda onto the branch of a tree and then climb on up and up toward
the blue sky. And especially, there being two girls to climb, it was
very useful to have two trees.
But not every day did the girls spend in "Breezy Inn." Sometimes they
roamed in the woods, or went rowing on the river, and sometimes they
visited at each other's houses.
One pleasant afternoon in late July, Marjorie asked Grandma if she
mightn't go to spend the afternoon at Stella's.
Mrs. Sherwood liked to have her go to Stella's, as the influence of the
quiet little girl helped to subdue Marjorie's more excitable
disposition, and about three o'clock Marjorie started off.
Grandma Sherwood looked after the child, as she walked away, with
admiring eyes. Marjorie wore a dainty frock of white dimity, scattered
with tiny pink flowers. A pink sash and hair-ribbons were fresh and
crisply tied, and she carried the pretty parasol Stella had given her
on her birthday.
With Marjorie, to be freshly dressed always made her walk decorously,
and Grandma smiled as she saw the little girl pick her way daintily
down the walk to the front gate, and along the road to Stella's, which,
though only next door, was several hundred yards away.
As Marjorie passed out of sight, Grandma sighed a little to think how
quickly the summer was flying by, for she dearly loved to have her
grandchildren with her, and though, perhaps, not to be called favorite,
yet Marjorie was the oldest and possessed a very big share of her
grandmother's affection.
Soon after she reached Stella's, Molly came flying over. Molly, too,
had on a clean afternoon dress, but that never endowed her with a sense
of decorum, as it did Marjorie.
"Hello, girls," she cried, as she climbed over the veranda-railing and
plumped herself down in the hammock. "What are we going to do this
afternoon?"
"Let's read," said Stella, promptly.
"Read, read, read!" said Molly. "I'm tired of your everlasting reading.
Let's play tennis."
"It's too hot for tennis," said Stella, "and, besides, you girls
haven't tennis shoes on and you'd spoil your shoes and the court, too."
"Oh, what do you think," said Mopsy, suddenly; "I have the loveliest
idea! Only we can't do it this afternoon, because we're all too much
dressed up. But I'll tell you about it, and we can begin to-morrow
morning."
"What's your idea?" said Molly, rousing herself in the hammock and
sitting with her chin in both hands as she listened.
"Why, I read it in the paper," said Marjorie, "and it's this. And it's
a lovely way to make money; we could make quite a lot for the Dunns. It
will be some trouble, but it would be a lot of fun, too."
"Yes, but what is it," said Stella, in her quietly patient way.
"You go out into the field," began Marjorie, "and you gather heaps and
heaps of pennyroyal,--you take baskets, you know, and gather just pecks
of it. Then you take it home and you put it in pails or tubs or
anything with a lot of water. And then you leave it about two days, and
then you drain it off, and then it's pennyroyal extract."
Marjorie announced the last words with a triumphant air, but her
hearers did not seem very much impressed.
"What then?" asked Molly, evidently awaiting something more startling.
"Why, then, you put it in bottles, and paste labels on, and take it all
around and sell it to people. They love to have it, you know, for
mosquitoes or burns or something, and they pay you quite a lot, and
then you have the money for charity."
The artistic possibilities began to dawn upon Stella.
"Yes," she said, "and I could make lovely labels, with fancy letters;
and you and Molly could paste them on, and we could tie the corks in
with little blue ribbons, like perfumery bottles."
"And we'll each bring bottles," cried Molly, becoming interested; "we
have lots at our house. Let's start out now to gather the pennyroyal.
We're not so awfully dressed up. This frock will wash, anyway."
"So will mine," said Marjorie, but she spoke with hesitation. She knew
that Grandma would not like to have her wear that dainty fresh frock
out into the fields.
But, for some reason, Stella, too, was inclined to go, and with the
trio, two against one always carried the day; and linking arms, in half
a minute the three were skipping away toward the field. They had not
asked permission, because the fields were part of Mr. Martin's
property, and Stella was practically on her own home ground, though at
a good distance from the house.
Enthusiastic over their new plan, the girls worked with a will, and,
having carelessly gone off without any basket, they found themselves
obliged to hold up the skirts of their dresses to carry their harvest.
"I should think we had enough to sell to everybody in Morristown,"
declared Molly, as, tired and flushed, she surveyed the great heap she
had piled into her dress skirt.
"So should I," agreed Midget, gathering up more and more of her pretty
dimity, now, alas! rumpled and stained almost beyond recognition.
Stella had a good share, though not so much as the others, and she
stood calmly inquiring what they were going to do with it.
"There's no use taking it to my house," she declared, "for mother would
only tell me to throw it away,--I know she would."
"Wouldn't she let us make the extract?" asked Marjorie.
"She wouldn't care how much we made it, but she wouldn't let me make it
at home, I know, because she hates a mess."
"I don't believe Grandma would like it either," said Marjorie, with a
sudden conviction; "it is awful messy, and it smells pretty strong. But
I'll tell you what, girls: let's take it all right to 'Breezy Inn.'
Then we can put it to soak right away. We can get water from the brook,
and there are plenty of pails and things there to make the extract in."
"We can call it The Breezy Extract," said Stella; "that'll look pretty
painted on the labels."
"Breezy Extract is silly," said Molly; "Breezy-Inn Extract is prettier."
"All right," said Stella, good-naturedly. "Come on, I'm in a hurry to
begin. I'll paint the labels, while you girls make the stuff."
So they trudged across the field to Breezy Inn, dumped their heaps of
pennyroyal into the dumb-waiter, and themselves scrambled gayly up the
rope ladder.
Almost before Molly and Midge had pulled up their somewhat odorous
burden, Stella had seated herself at the table to work at the labels.
The child was devoted to work of this sort, and was soon absorbed in
designing artistic letters to adorn the bottles.
Midge and Molly worked away with a will. Unheeding their pretty summer
frocks, and, indeed, there was little use now for care in that
direction, they brought water from the brook, hauled it up the
dumbwaiter, and filled several good-sized receptacles with steeping
pennyroyal flowers.
Their work finished, they were anxious to start for home at once and
begin a search for the bottles, but Stella begged them to stay a little
longer until she should have finished the design she was making.
So Midge and Molly wandered out on the veranda, and amused themselves
by jerking the rope ladder up and down. By a clever mechanical
contrivance the ladder went up and down something on the principle of
an automatic shade roller. It was great fun to roll it up and feel a
certain security in the thought that nobody could get into "Breezy Inn"
unless they saw fit to let down the ladder. Not that anybody ever
wanted to, but it was fun to think so, and, moreover, the rolling
ladder was most useful in the playing of certain games, where an
unlucky princess was imprisoned in a castle tower.
But somehow, as they were idly jerking the ladder up and down, an
accident happened. Something snapped at the top, and with a little
cracking sound, the whole ladder broke loose from its fastenings and
fell to the ground.
"Oh, Midget!" cried Molly, aghast, "whatever shall we do now? We can't
get down, and we'll have to stay here until somebody happens to come by
this way."
"That may not be for several days," said Midget, cheerfully. "Carter
never hardly comes down into this meadow. Pooh, Molly, we can get down
some way."
"Yes; but how?" insisted Molly, who realized the situation more truly
than Marjorie.
"Oh, I don't know," responded Midge, carelessly. "We might go down in
the dumb-waiter."
"No; your uncle said, positively, we must never go down on that. It
isn't strong enough to hold even one of us at a time."
"I guess I could jump."
"I guess you couldn't! You'd sprain your ankles and break your collar
bones."
"Oh, pshaw, Molly, there must be some way down. Let's ask Stella. She
can always think of something."
"No; don't tell Stella. She can't think of any way, and it would scare
her to pieces. I tell you, Mops, there ISN'T any way down. It's too
high to jump and we can't climb. We could climb UP the tree, but not
DOWN."
At last Marjorie began to realize that they were in a difficulty. She
looked all around the house, and there really was no way by which the
girls could get down. They went into the living-room, where Stella sat
at the table, drawing.
"I'm ready to go home," she said, looking up as they entered. "This is
finished, and, anyway, it's getting so dark I can't see any more."
"Dark!" exclaimed Marjorie. "Why, it isn't five o'clock yet."
"I don't care what time it is," said Stella; "it's getting awfully
dark, just the same."
And sure enough it was, and a few glances at the sky showed the reason.
What was undoubtedly a severe thunderstorm was rapidly approaching, and
dark masses of cloud began to roll over each other and pile up higher
and higher toward the zenith.
"It's a thunder shower, that's what it is," declared Stella; "let's
scramble down the ladder quick, and run for home. Let's all run to your
house, Marjorie, it's nearer."
Midge and Molly looked at each other.
There was no help for it, so Marjorie said: "We can't go down the
ladder, Stella, because it's broken down."
"What! Who broke it?"
"We did," said Molly; "that is, we were playing with it and somehow it
broke itself. Of course, we didn't do it on purpose."
Stella's face turned white. "How shall we get down?" she said.
"We CAN'T get down," said Midge, cheerfully; "we'll have to stay up.
But the roof doesn't leak; I asked Uncle, and he said it was perfectly
watertight."
"But I don't want to stay up here in a storm," said Stella, and her
lips began to quiver.
"Now, don't you cry, Stella!" said Molly, who, if truth be told, was on
the verge of tears herself.
Meantime, the darkness was rapidly increasing. It was one of those
sudden showers where a black pall of cloud seems to envelop the whole
universe, and the very air takes on a chill that strikes a terror of
its own, even to a stout heart.
The three little girls sat looking at each other in despair.
Each was very much frightened, but each was trying to be brave. It had
all happened so suddenly that they had even yet scarcely realized that
they were in real danger, when suddenly a terrible clap of thunder
burst directly above their heads, accompanied by a blinding flash of
lightning.
Stella screamed and then burst into wild crying; Molly turned white and
gritted her teeth in a determination not to cry; while Marjorie, with
big tears rolling down her cheeks, put her arms around Stella in a vain
endeavor to comfort her.
Molly crept up to the other two, and intertwining their arms, the three
huddled together, shivering with fear and dismay.
One after another, the terrible thunderbolts crashed and rolled, and
the fearful lightning glared at intervals.
Then, with a swish and a splash, the rain began. It came down in gusty
torrents, and dashed in at the open windows like a spray.
Molly and Marjorie jumped up and flew to shut the windows, but Stella
remained crouched in a pathetic little heap.
"Somebody will come to get us," whispered Molly, trying to be hopeful
and to cheer the others.
"No, they won't," said Marjorie, despairingly; "for Grandma thinks I'm
over at Stella's, and your mother thinks you're there, too."
"Yes, but Stella's mother will hunt us up; somebody is SURE to come,"
persisted Molly.
"No, she won't," said a weak little voice; "for I told Mother that we
might stay home this afternoon, and we might go over to Molly's. And
she'll think we're over there."
"It wouldn't matter if the ladder WAS up," said Molly, "for we couldn't
go out in this pouring rain, and we might get struck by lightning, too."
"Under a tree is the very worst place to be in a thunderstorm," said
Stella, lifting her white, little face, and staring at the girls with
big, scared eyes.
Just then another terrible crash and flash made them all grasp each
other again, and then, without further restraint, they all cried
together.
The storm increased. The winds simply raged, and though the old
maple-trees were too sturdy to shake much, yet the little house swayed
some, and all about could be heard the cracking and snapping of
branches.
"I think--" began Molly, but even as she spoke there came the loudest
crash of all. It was the splitting of the heavens, and with it came a
fierce, sudden flash of flame that blinded them all.
The girls fell apart from one another through the mere shock, and when
Molly and Midge dazedly opened their eyes, they saw Stella crumpled in
a little heap on the floor.