The lugubrious voice of Mike Murphy accompanied as it was by a faint
moan, drew every eye upon him. The sight of his red, freckled face and
robust looks caused the others to break into laughter, which was renewed
when he gazed reprovingly in turn at each.
“I see there’s no use of me craving sympathy, as Mart Coogan said whin
he broke through the floor overhead onto the table where the sewing
society were drinking tay.”
“Doctor,” said his wife when she regained her self-command, “if all your
patients were like him, we should die of starvation.”
“What caused your misgiving regarding your health?” gravely inquired the
medical man.
“It wasn’t any partic’lar ailing, but the alarming loss of me appetite.”
“I should explain,” said Alvin, “that that never occurs until he leaves
the table, which is generally about all that he does leave.”
“What am I to understand by _that_?” demanded Mike apparently in high
dudgeon; “it sounds like a slur upon me truthfulness, as Jim Finnegan
said when his friend called him a liar.”
“What are you all making so much noise about?”
It would be putting it mildly to say that the three youths were startled
by this unexpected question. Around the corner of the house dashed a
little girl, some four or five years old, who asked the peremptory
question. She was dressed in a short khaki dress, with high tan shoes,
and her abundant hair was gathered loosely by a red ribbon tied behind
her neck. She wore no hat and in face and feature was a replica of her
handsome mother, with a complexion more darkly tinted, not only on the
face but on the chubby arms that were bare to the elbows. If Mike Murphy
typified vigorous young manhood, this little one was an equally marked
example of a perfectly healthy child.
The Irish youth was the first to break the brief silence which followed
her question.
“Won’t ye come and shake hands wid me, Dorothy?”
Without stirring, she looked sharply at him.
“What makes you call me Dorothy? That isn’t my name.”
“I’ve been told that out of ivery ten little girls born in this counthry
since Cleveland was President, nine of the same are named Dorothy; I beg
yer pardon fur not knowing ye were the tenth.”
The picture of the pretty child was so winsome that Alvin and Chester
each held out his hands invitingly, accompanying the gesture with a
smile that was meant to be irresistible. The girl hesitated a moment,
father and mother watching her, and then made a dive down the slight
slope as if she intended to plunge into the lake, but her course led her
between Alvin and Chester and into the arms of Mike, who gently lifted
her upon his knee.
“What a sinsible young lady ye be! Thus airly do ye admire manly beauty
and high moral worth. May I have the honor to touch me lips to yer
cheeks, if I promise not to rub off the pink from the same?”
Guessing his meaning, she turned her face sideways, while the others
smilingly looked on and listened. Mike had won the good will of the
parents by his cheek salute, for they never failed to let it be known
that it was against their wishes that any one, no matter who, touched
his or her lips to those of the child. Some have advocated the same
style for adults, but I fear the plan will never be popular.
“My name is Ruth,” said the little one artlessly; “that is, they
sometimes call me that, but it isn’t my right name.”
“What is your right name?”
“Stubby,—I guess papa calls me that because I sometimes stub my toe
when I run too fast. Folks that love me call me ‘Stubby.’”
“Then it’s mesilf that shall know ye as ‘Stubby.’ When these young chaps
wid me presooms to addriss ye as ‘Ruth,’ have nought to do wid ’em, but
come to me who knows how to traat ye respictful. But I’m going to give
ye anither name, wid the permission of your father and mither.”
“What’s that?”
“The Sunbeam of Gosling Lake: how do you like it?”
Stubby was puzzled. With the end of her forefinger thrust in the corner
of her mouth, she said doubtingly:
“I don’t know; it sounds awfully funny; what do you think?” she asked
turning to her parents.
“It is poetical and truthful, but rather too long to be used most of the
time,” said the mother.
“It might be saved for coort occasions; Uncle Elk always calls me
Michael, he being the only one of me acquaintance that has a true since
of the fitness of things. But I would respictfully suggist that the word
‘Sunbeam’ would sarve.”
“It certainly is better than ‘Stubby’,” remarked the father, “but it
will be hard to displace the homely original.”
“Mike means well,” said Alvin, “though it is sometimes hard to
understand him. Now, Sunbeam, I think you ought to sit on my knee for a
little while.”
He reached out his arms to help her across, but she held back.
“I like Mike better.”
“It is rare that ye obsarve so much in one of her tender years,” and the
Irish youth said to the child:
“Owing to me careful thraining they’re both purty fair lads, but I warn
ye aginst trusting them too far. When ye naad a friend ye will not fail
to come to me.”
“Yes, indeedy, ’cause you are a good deal better looking than they——”
“Another illustration of disarnmint; Sunbeam, I’m going to ask yer
father and mither to loan ye to us for siveral days.”
The little one did not quite grasp the meaning of this.
“Where do you live, Cousin Mike?”
And she clapped her hands with delight over the happy title that had
flashed upon her without any thought on her part.
“That’s it!” exclaimed the Irish laddie; “we’re cousins for the rist of
our lives.”
“What about them?” she asked darting her chubby forefinger at Alvin and
Chester.
“It will be the right thing to call one of ’em yer grandad and the ither
yer grand-mither: that’s the best use ye can put ’em to.”
“That’ll be splendid!” she added again clapping her hands and kicking
her feet; “can I go with Cousin Mike, mother?”
“Some day when it is pleasant we’ll loan you to him and his friends, but
it must be when the sun is shining.”
“As if ye didn’t take the sunshine wid ye at all times,” commented Mike.
“And you’ll come for me, Cousin Mike?”
“Why, Sunbeam, I’d go a thousand miles to borry ye for an hour. Maybe a
better plan will be fur yer father and mither to paddle across the lake
wid ye, and whin they go back they can forgit all about ye and we’ll
keep ye till we git tired of ye and then fetch you back. How will that
work?”
“When will you get tired of me?”
“Never,” was the reply, and Alvin and Chester nodded their heads.
Thus the chatter ran on for an hour or more, during which Sunbeam, at
the suggestion of her mother, perched for a little while on the knee of
Alvin and of Chester, but soon returned to Mike, for whom she displayed
a marked affection. It has been shown elsewhere that the Irish lad had
the gift of winning the high regard of nearly every one with whom he
came in contact. No person could fail to be attracted by the innocent,
trusting nature of the little child, and the visitors pictured the
delight with which she would be welcomed by the Boy Scouts.
“I came into this section,” the physician explained, “for the sake of my
wife and myself, I have had a pretty hard season and this is my first
outing in two years. Mrs. Spellman was worn out by months of attendance
upon her mother, who rallied sufficiently to sail for Europe some weeks
ago. Although we have been here only a few days, we have been vastly
benefited, and our vacation is sure to do us both a world of good. The
only objection is that at times it becomes rather lonely, especially
during rainy weather.”
“What do you do with yourselves?”
“Wife finds occupation in her sewing, in cooking and in household
duties, while I haven’t as yet finished reading the ‘Six Best Sellers’;
I smoke and nap and yawn and gabble with Ruth and her mother, or paddle
about the lake and fish. I brought along my rifle and revolver, with
little promise of having any use for either weapon. This is not only the
close season, but to find larger game we must go a good deal farther
north. I hope to make such an excursion during the coming winter. Have
you any firearms in your company?”
“I believe there are one or two revolvers but none of us three carries a
weapon.”
“Should you ever find yourselves in need of my services it will be easy
to signal with one of the pistols, and I shall lose no time in hurrying
to you.”
“You are kind; suppose we say three reports in succession from one of
the revolvers means that you are urgently wanted?”
“A good plan; if there is no wind the sound will carry well.”
“What signal will you use in calling us?”
“I do not think the necessity can ever arise.”
“But it may: who shall say?”
“I brought some sky rockets with other fireworks to amuse Ruth; three of
those sent up will serve provided some one happens to be looking this
way; otherwise I shall fire my rifle three times,—the same as you will
do with your smaller weapon.”
“Then that is the understanding between us.”