DAVY'S CLUB
"The next thing we do is to s'lute the flag of our country. Now, one,
two, three--after me!"
The shrill command floated up to Nancy in her tree-top.
She had just snuggled back against her seat with a long sigh of
contentment. The door of her treasure-box stood open and beside her
were the sheets of her neglected manuscript. She had stolen out for an
hour's uninterrupted work.
"How _heavenly_ quiet," she had been saying to the rustling leaves.
"_Now_ I am going to work and make up for lost time." Everything at
Happy House seemed to be back on what Nancy called a "peace-basis." "I
must go down to the village and tell Webb what a dear he was to make
this seat," she had thought, as she climbed into it.
Then, just as her inspired pencil had written "Act 4" across the top of
a clean sheet, had come the strange words, seemingly out of nowhere.
"Well, I _never_!" Nancy peeped all around. The sound came apparently
from under the cliff. "Who _is_ it? And how could _anyone_ get there."
The voice--a boy's--was rattling on in a succession of sharp commands.
Nancy crept toward the edge and peeped over. There, to her amazement,
on a strip of sand beach in an indentation of the shore, marched and
counter-marched a small boy, quite alone. He was a funny, snub-nosed,
tousled headed boy in ragged blouse and blue jeans--and, clearly, very
much in earnest, for a deep scowl wrinkled his freckled face.
"At-ten-shun! Shoulder arms--right face--forward, march." Three feet
length of bare-footed manliness stepped briskly across the sand. "Step
up, you Dick Snead," and a domineering arm swept out toward an
imaginary lagger in the rear.
"Was there _ever_ anything so funny?" giggled Nancy, crouching in the
tall grass at the top of the cliff. "And what is it? Fairies don't
come in over-alls, and I don't think they ever liked military drill,
either."
She loosened a stone and let it roll down the bank. Startled, the
youngster lifted his glance to the top of the bank.
"Hello," called Nancy.
A heavy scowl answered her friendly greeting.
"What are you doing?"
"I ain't doin' nothin'." It was clear that Nancy's interruption was
unwelcome. "Least I ain't doin' nothin' that's hurtin'."
"Of course not! It sounded nice. I didn't even know there was a beach
down there! How did you ever get down?"
The boy grew crafty--the haste with which he answered said plainly that
he did not _want_ Nancy to know how.
"Girls can't get down--it's awful dang'rous!"
"Then won't you come up?"
The boy considered this. He had guessed that this must be the "girl up
at the Happy House." She seemed friendly and not at all disposed to
"chase a feller away." And if he climbed up to her, then there would
be no danger of her discovering the way down to the beach.
"All right, I'll come up." He disappeared for a moment in the tangle
of growth that fringed the foot of the cliff to bob up close at Nancy's
side.
"My goodness--it's just as though you came up by magic," she cried.
"It _must_ be dang'rous. I'm Nancy Leavitt. Who are you?"
The boy gave Nancy a suspicious look.
"Mebbe you'll tell!" he muttered, doubtingly.
"Oh, no, I _wouldn't_! Besides, what can I tell? And I can't even
guess who you are because you see I don't know anyone in Freedom."
"I'm Davy Hopworth."
"Of course, I remember,--" But Nancy stopped short for what she
remembered was how Webb had called them the "no-good Hopworths."
"And that there's my club," finished Davy, gravely. "Only the other
fellers couldn't sneak away today."
"I--understand," Nancy nodded, hugging her knees with her arms. "What
a jolly place to meet. It's so--so secret."
Davy grinned. "You bet. That's a pirate's cove. I guess mebbe
there's a treasure buried there. All us boys knows where to get down,
too."
"I'm so glad you let me know your secret! I won't tell a soul! I
think your club's very jolly, too."
Davy, won by Nancy's disarming friendliness, produced from a ragged
pocket a dirty piece of paper and handed it to her.
"Them's the Rules," he said, briefly.
At the top was printed "Cove Culb." And below were the rules: 1. No
swaring. 2. No back talk. 3. No smokin nothin. 4. No lis. 5. No
steling birds eggs. 6. No hurtin dume anmals. 7. Eviry boys goter no
how to swim and lick eviry boy thats an enmy to the culb. 8. To kil
pirats. 9. To fite for ar contry.
While Nancy was trying to control her lips so that she could say
something, Davy added proudly, "I wrote 'em."
"They're--splendid! But _why_ in the world should the other boys have
to sneak away?"
"Liz says folks don't think a Hopworth's good 'nough. I guess no one
thinks a feller oughta have any fun, either. Liz don't. I wait 'til
she cleans the meetin' house--ev'ry Monday and after there's socials
and things. We sneak. Jim and Dick get a lickin' if they get caught,"
Davy explained without the slightest embarrassment.
Nancy's indignation was sincere. "What a _shame_! I wish I was a boy,
I'd join your club in a moment. Why, you can do so many things down
there--drill and--swim, can't you? And have jolly fires and roast
potatoes and weiners and corn?"
"Gee--I wish you were a boy."
"Why, can't I join anyway?" cried Nancy, inspired. "Some clubs have
honorary members who do nice things for them. Can't I?"
Davy did not know what an "honorary member" was, and an instinct
trained to suspicion warned him now.
"Girls ain't any fun."
"Oh, some girls aren't, I know! But I'm a lot like a boy. I can swim
half a mile--I've done it! I can play ball, too and--and--why I won a
medal for a high pole-vault! I'll bet I can beat you right now in a
race!"
Davy regarded her with wide eyes.
"Bet you can't!"
Nancy sprang to her feet.
"Let's race from--here--to that big elm way down there." She indicated
with her finger a giant elm in the "ten-acre strip."
"How you goin' to get over that stone fence?" And Davy pointed out the
low stretch of stones that marked the dividing line between the orchard
and the ten-acre strip.
"Oh, _that_! That's easy!"
Plainly Davy's respect was growing. He danced first on one foot and
then on the other. "You are a sport. If you can beat I'll let you
join the club. I'll count! One--two--three!"
They were off over the stubby grass. Nancy, longer-limbed, caught the
lead. She vaulted the fence with agile ease. But Davy soon caught up
to her and in the last few yards passed her. Laughing, breathless,
Nancy reached the tree and clung to it.
"Hurray," came from behind them.
There, approaching them, was the "hired man." He had seemingly sprung
from nowhere.
Flushed and disheveled by the race, an intruder on the enemy's own
ground, Nancy was at a disarming disadvantage. Besides, Davy greeted
the newcomer rapturously.
"Say, she's as good's a boy. She's goin' to join the club!" he
announced, with triumph. "As honery member," he added.
Peter Hyde held out a brown hand.
"Congratulations! And to the club, too!"
Nancy was conscious that he was staring at her in a perplexed way. Her
cheeks already red from running took on an added color under his
glance. But there was a friendliness in his, eyes that won, her in
spite of her resolve to avenge at every opportunity her injured dignity.
"I'd have won," she retorted laughingly, "if it hadn't been
for--these," and she swished her white skirts. "But I don't care as
long as Davy says I may join the club. Meetings whenever Liz cleans
the meeting-house," she repeated.
"And she can swim and she can play ball and says we can make fires and
things," cried Davy to Peter Hyde.
"Then you won't need me anymore?"
"You can be a honery member, too. She says they do nice things for
clubs."
Peter Hyde put an arm across Davy's shoulder. "I think we could do a
lot of nice things for Davy and his club," he said, directly to Nancy.
"Seems to me there's energy and enthusiasm here that's being sort of
wasted. What do you say--shall we be honery members?"
Nancy nodded. "I swear to keep all the rules."
Davy hopped with joy. "Wait 'til I tell the fellers. I guess you'll
see 'em round, even if they do get a lickin'! But, say," he stopped
short, inspired by a sudden thought, "mebbe now Mis' Leavitt's niece
b'longs they won't _have_ to sneak!"
Peter Hyde walked back with Nancy and Davy as far as the stone wall.
From, the corner of her eye Nancy was, quite against her will, admiring
the straight figure whose strength was only made more evident by the
rough working clothes.
"He seems _nice_--for a hired man," she was thinking, all the while she
was answering Davy's boyish questions.
And more than once, as he watched Nancy, that first perplexing look
came back into Peter Hyde's eyes.
"Why, she _isn't_ a kid, after all!"