The Missing Whale
UNFORTUNATELY, the three mothers, Henrietta's grandmother, and Aunty
Jane could not look into that queer chicken-coop of a house to see
their precious chickens sleeping the sound, sweet sleep that life in
the open induces.
Still, the evening was so very fine that no one was surprised because
of the prolonged outing--that is, at first. But when nine o'clock came
and the Whale failed to appear, Mrs. Slater, Henrietta's grandmother,
telephoned to Mr. Black's unresponsive house, and then to Jean's
mother, Mrs. Mapes. Mrs. Mapes obligingly ran in to ask Marjory's
Aunty Jane if anything had been seen of the delayed Whale; and then
both ladies scurried to the rectory to ask Doctor Tucker if _he_ knew
the whereabouts of the Whale--or the Whale's passengers. Of course he
didn't; so he and Mrs. Tucker went with the inquiring pair to Doctor
Bennett's to ask if Mabel had returned. Naturally, she hadn't, so,
joined by Mabel's now mildly anxious parents, they all went--just like
persons in a moving-picture show, Doctor Bennett said afterwards--to
Mrs. Slater's house to ask what _she_ thought about it. They found her
anxiously watching the clock.
Mrs. Slater promptly sent Simmons, the butler, to order her carriage,
in which the entire party, somewhat crowded it is true, was speedily
transported to Mr. Black's home, where they found Martin waiting in the
lighted garage.
"Where," asked Doctor Bennett, "is your master?"
"Sure," returned Martin, pulling politely at a long lock of sandy hair,
"that's what _I'd_ like to know. 'Tis a lonely evenin' I'm spendin'
without even a horse for company."
"Does his automobile ever break down?" queried Aunty Jane, a thin woman
with very sharp eyes and other features to match.
"It never has, mum; but most of 'em does, sooner or later. Still, Mr.
Black is always careful--he'd be likely to choose a safe spot to break
down in."
"He said," offered Doctor Tucker, "that he was going to look at some
land of his--where is his land?"
"Sure," returned Martin, with a gesture that included the entire
horizon, "he has land anywhere you'd want to look--he owns a pile of
rale estate, they say. When annybody wants a little money, he just
sells his land, back taxes and all, to that aisy-going man. _He_ don't
know where his land is; it's iv'rywhere. But wheriver he's gone he
can't starve, for Mrs. Crane and Bridget cooked all day yesterday; and
he can't freeze because there's three big robes and a fur coat."
"But what can be keeping him?" asked Mrs. Tucker. "He knows that Bettie
ought to be in bed by nine."
"Most like it's a busted tire--'tis time wan was givin' out. If he
wasn't smart enough to put the new one on--and belike he isn't, him not
bein' used to the job--why, there he is, laid out in the road."
"But all our girls are with him," protested Mrs. Bennett. "There's
seven in the party. Our five children----"
"The more the merrier," consoled Martin, comfortably. "Even if two or
three was spilled overboard, there'd be four left to spread the tale.
Depind on it, ladies--and your Riverince--they're safe somewhere, or
we'd hear the bad news. That's the kind that travels fastest."
"I think Martin is right," agreed Doctor Tucker, mildly. "I'm quite
sure that they're all safe, _somewhere_; at some farm, perhaps, where
there's no telephone. Even if those girls were alone they'd manage to
make themselves comfortable somehow--just remember what they did to
Dandelion Cottage."
"They're smart enough," agreed Mrs. Mapes, "and they are all
resourceful. And Mrs. Crane is with them. If they haven't all plunged
over some embankment----"
"Not Mr. Black, mum," assured Martin. "He's that careful and slow that
I'm ashamed to be seen ridin' with him. Why, mum, whin I'm in the
Whale I feel just like a baby in a go-cart."
Their fears somewhat allayed by optimistic Martin, the parents and
guardians of the castaways, after waiting hopefully until midnight,
finally dispersed and went to bed, for there was really nothing else
to do; but the passengers of the missing Whale spent a far happier
and more peaceful night than did their anxious relatives; for the
castaways, at least, knew that they were alive and unharmed.
The morning sun was shining brightly when Ambrosial Delight, who
had escaped at dawn, chased a frightened chipmunk into Mr. Black's
triangular den and roused that recumbent gentleman from the soundest
sleep he had had in years.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed the surprised man, sitting up under his bias
roof, "the stars were shining when I looked out last! It must be seven
or eight o'clock. Hi there, Sarah! Jean! Girls! Has that fish-boat gone
up the lake?"
"Yes, yes, Bridget," murmured Mrs. Crane, sleepily. "We'll have
creamed shrimps and----"
"Sarah!" shouted Mr. Black, "wake up! You've made me miss that boat
again."
So Mrs. Crane woke up, and presently the girls, with sleepy eyes and
tousled heads, crawled out, one by one, to blink in the dazzling
sunshine.
"Run down to the lake," advised Mr. Black, "and wash your
faces--that'll wake you up."
So the girls waded out and washed in the finest basin in the world,
made friends with a courageous squirrel who was also bathing his face,
and combed their tangled locks with Henrietta's side-combs.
"If you hadn't brought these," observed Jean, "we'd have been in a fine
fix."
"Anyhow," giggled Marjory, wiggling her pink toes, delightedly,
"there's water enough."
"Bettie," cried Mrs. Crane, from the bank, "come out of that lake!
You're a sick girl----"
"I'm not, either," contradicted Bettie, indignantly. "I feel just
fine."
"I'm glad to hear it," returned motherly Mrs. Crane, "but I don't want
you to take any risks. You've been in long enough."
"All right," agreed Bettie, regretfully. "I'll come out, just to be
good, but I don't want to one bit."
"Isn't this just heaven!" breathed Jean, ecstatically, extending her
arms as if she would embrace the whole beautiful universe. "Look at
that water--pearl-gray, with pink and gold sparkles all spangled over
the top! It's a different color every time you look at it. I love it."
"So do I," said Bettie, from the beach. "I wish I were a fish and could
_live_ in it."
"But then," objected Henrietta, "you couldn't _see_ it--I'd rather be a
sea-gull."
"She's making puns," groaned Marjory. "Hurry up with that comb, Mabel;
it's my turn next."
"Hi there!" called Mr. Black; "who's setting the table for breakfast?"
As the tablecloth was still serving as a roof, Mr. Black found a couple
of clean boards that served very nicely in its stead. This was not
difficult, since all the driftwood was most beautifully clean. So, too,
was the sand. Even the soil under the trees, being free from clay, was
clean, dry, and pleasant. One could sit on the ground without fear of
dampness, dirt, or snakes. It was _pleasant_ ground.
"This place," said Mrs. Crane, who was boiling the coffee water, "is
absolutely dust-proof, I believe. I'd like to live here all the time,
if only to breathe this air."
"Let's stay," pleaded Bettie. "_I_ don't want to go home."
"Neither do I," said Mabel.
"Nor I," said Henrietta.
"Nor I," echoed Marjory, who had finally succeeded in braiding her
long, fair hair.
"I guess," said Mr. Black, "we'll _have_ to stay for awhile, whether we
want to or not. But, if we don't turn up to-day, they'll begin to hunt
for us."
"Oh," groaned Henrietta, "I _hope_ not."
"Peter," said Mrs. Crane, "we didn't meet a single soul on that road
after we took the turn-off just out of Lakeville."
"I don't wonder," returned Mr. Black. "Nobody that could possibly
travel by any other road would ever think of taking that one. I suspect
that it hasn't been used very much since Randall stopped lumbering at
Barclay's Point, six years ago. But, never fear, they'll find us all
right--we're only seventeen miles from Lakeville."
"But _such_ miles," breathed Mrs. Crane. "Nobody 'd think of trying
that road--they'd think we had more sense."
"Perhaps we should have had--perhaps I ought to have doubted Timothy.
Anyway, we left tracks. If they look for us at all thoroughly, they'll
surely find those."
"That Timothy man," suggested Jean. "Wouldn't _he_ know?"
"Ye--es," admitted Mr. Black, "but when I asked him about that road he
was just boarding a train for Boston. But don't worry. We're not half
as lost as we might be. In fact, _we_ know exactly where we are."
The castaways had barely finished breakfast when sharp-eyed Marjory
spied a small, dark object on the water, not far from Barclay's Point.
"That wasn't there yesterday," said she, pointing it out to the others.
"It's moving!" cried Jean.
"Perhaps it's more driftwood for our house," suggested Bettie.
"Or a bear coming to eat us," offered Mabel.
"It's long and slim with a bump at one end," explained Marjory.
"Something like a dead tree with one branch sticking up. Just a log,
perhaps, but----"
"Anyway," interrupted Jean, "it's coming this way and coming _fast_."