CONCERNING VARIOUS MATTERS
The laughter which rose to the lips of some of the observers was
promptly checked as they saw that the girl lay perfectly still in the
dust where she had fallen, making no effort to rise, and unconscious
of her injured finery.
"She'd better have kep' still an' let 'em wet her," said Alfy, nudging
Jane Potter.
"She ain't gettin' up because she can't," answered Jane and sprang out
of the landau, to kneel beside the prostrate girl; then to look up and
cry out: "She's hurt! She's dreadful hurt!"
Unhappy Mr. Winters set his teeth and his lips were grim. "If ever I'm
so misguided as to engineer another young folks' House Party, I
hope----"
He didn't express this "hope" but stooped and with utmost tenderness
lifted Mabel to her feet. She had begun to rally from the shock of her
fall and opened her eyes again, while the pallor that had banished her
usual rosiness began to yield to the returning circulation. Already
many hands were outstretched to help, some with the dipper from the
well, others with dripping wooden plates whereon their luncheon had
been packed. Mabel pushed the plates aside, fretfully, explaining as
soon as she could speak:
"If that gets on my clothes--they're so dusty--Oh! what made me--Oh!
oh! A-ah!"
Then she began to laugh and cry alternately, as the misfortune and its
absurdity fully appeared, and Helena saw that the girl was fast
becoming hysterical. Evidently, in their wearer's eyes, the beautiful
frock now so badly smirched and the white gloves which had split
asunder in her fall were treasures beyond compute, and Helena herself
loved pretty clothes. She felt a keen sympathy in that and another
respect--she had suffered from hysteria and always went prepared for
an emergency. Stepping quietly to Mabel's side, she waved aside the
other eager helpers, saying:
"I'm going to ride back in the landau, Alfy, please take my place in
the cart. Here, Mabel, swallow a drop of this medicine. 'Twill set you
right at once."
Her movements and words were as decided as they were quiet and Mabel
unconsciously obeyed. She submitted to be helped back into the
carriage and as Helena took the empty seat beside her, Ephraim drove
swiftly away.
Thus ignored the dripping twins stared ruefully after the vanishing
vehicle and Mr. Seth looked as ruefully at them. But Molly begged:
"Let them go in the cart with us. Alfy's frock and mine will wash,
even if they soil us. One can ride between Jim and me and Melvin and
Alfy must look after the other. Let's choose. I take Ananias. I just
love boys!"
"Be sure you've chosen one then," laughed Jim as he rather gingerly
picked up one infant and placed it behind the dashboard. He had on his
own Sunday attire and realized the cost of it, so objected almost as
strongly as Mabel had done to contact with this well-soused youngster.
"Say, sonny, what made you tumble in the brook? Don't you know this is
Sunday?"
"Yep. Didn't tumble, just _went_. I'm no 'sonny'; I'm sissy. S-a-p
sap, p-h-i----" began the little one, glibly and distinctly.
"You can't be! You surely are Ananias! Your hair is cut exactly like a
boy's and you wear boy's panties! You're spelling the wrong name. Look
out! What next?" cried Molly anxiously, as the active baby suddenly
climbed over the back of that seat to join her mate behind. There
master Ananias--or was it really Sapphira?--cuddled down on the rug in
the bottom of the cart and settled himself--herself--for sleep.
Neither Alfy nor Melvin interfered with these too-close small
neighbors; but withdrawing to the extreme edges of the seat left them
to sleep and get dry at their leisure. After that the homeward drive
proceeded in peace; only Herbert calling out now and then from his
place in the big wagon to make Melvin admire some particular beauty of
the scene, challenging the Provincial to beat it if he could in that
far away Markland of his own.
"But you haven't the sea!" retorted Melvin, proudly.
"We don't need it. We have the HUDSON RIVER!" came as swiftly back;
and as they had come just then to a turn in the road where an ancient
building stood beneath a canopy of trees, he asked: "Hold up the
horses a minute, will you, Littlejohn? I'd like our English friend to
say if he ever saw anything more picturesque than this."
"This" was a more than century-old Friends' meeting-house. Unpainted
and shingled all over its outward surface. "Old shingle-sides" was its
local name, and a lovelier location could not have been chosen even by
a less austere body of worshipers.
Meeting had been prolonged that First Day. The hand clasp of neighbor
with neighbor which signaled its close had just been given. From the
doorways on either side, the men's and the women's, these silent
worshipers were now issuing; the men to seek the vehicles waiting
beneath the long shed and the women to gossip a moment of neighborhood
affairs.
Mr. Winters was willing to rest and "breathe the horses" for a
little, the day being warm and the drive long, and to observe with
interest the decorous home-going of these Plain People; and it so
chanced that the big wagon, where Dorothy sat on the front seat with
Luna resting against her, halted just beside the entrance to the
meeting-house grounds. From her place she watched the departing
congregation with the keen interest she brought to everything; and
among them she recognized the familiar outlines of George Fox, the
miller's fine horse; and, holding the reins over its back, Oliver
Sands, the miller himself. So close he drove to the big wagon that
George Fox's nose touched Littlejohn's leader, and the boy pulled back
a little.
"Huh! That's old Oliver in his First Day grays! But he's in the
grumps. Guess the Spirit hasn't moved him to anything pleasant, by the
look," he remarked to Dorothy beside him.
"He does look as if he were in trouble. I don't like him. I never did.
He wasn't--well, nice to Father John once. But I'm sorry he's unhappy.
Nobody ought to be on such a heavenly day."
If Oliver saw those watching beside the gate he made no sign. His fat
shoulders, commonly so erect, were bowed as if he had suddenly grown
old. His face had lost its unctuous smile and was haggard with care;
and for once he paid no heed to George Fox's un-Quakerlike gambols,
fraught with danger to the open buggy he drew. A pale-faced woman in
the orthodox attire of the birthright Friends sat beside the miller
and clung to him in evident terror at the horse's behavior. It was she
who saw how close the contact between their own and the Deerhurst
team, and her eye fell anxiously upon the two girlish figures upon the
front seat of the wagon. For a girl the unknown Luna seemed, clad in
the scarlet frock and hat that Dorothy had given; while Dolly,
herself, clasping the little creature close lest she should be
frightened looked even younger than she was.
"Sisters," thought Dorcas Sands, "yet not alike." Then casting a
second, critical glance upon Luna she uttered a strange cry and
clutched her husband's arm.
"Dorcas, thee is too old for foolishness," was all the heed he paid to
her gesture, and drove stolidly on, unseeing aught but his own inward
perturbation which had found no solace in that morning's Meeting.
Dorcas looked back once over her shoulder and Dorothy returned a
friendly smile to the sweet old face in the white-lined gray bonnet.
Then the bonnet faced about again and George Fox whisked its wearer
out of sight.
"I declare I'd love to be a Quakeress and wear such clothes as these
women do. They look so sweet and peaceful and happy. As if nothing
ever troubled them. Don't you think they're lovely, Littlejohn?"
"Huh! I don't know. That there Mrs. Sands--Dorcas Sands is the way
she's called 'cause the Friends don't give nobody titles--I guess
there ain't a more unhappy woman on our mountain than her."
"Why, Littlejohn! Fancy! With such a--a good man; isn't he?"
"Good accordin' as you call goodness. He ain't bad, not so bad; only
you want to look sharp when you have dealings with him. They say he
measures the milk his folks use in the cookin' and if more butter goes
one week than he thinks ought to he skimps 'em the next. I ain't stuck
on that kind of a man, myself, even if he is all-fired rich. Gid-dap,
boys!"
With which expression of his sentiments the young mountaineer touched
up the team that had rather lagged behind the others and the
conversation dropped. But during all that homeward ride there lingered
in Dorothy's memory that strange, startled, half-cognizant gaze which
gentle Dorcas Sands had cast upon poor Luna. But by this time, the
afflicted guest had become as one of the family; and the fleeting
interest of any passer-by was accepted as mere curiosity and soon
forgotten.
After dinner Mr. Winters disappeared; and the younger members of the
House Party disposed themselves after their desires; some for a
stroll in the woods, some in select, cosy spots for quiet reading; and
a few--as Mabel, Helena, and Monty--for a nap. But all gathered again
at supper-time and a happy evening followed; with music and talk and a
brief bedtime service at which the Master officiated.
But Dorothy noticed that he still looked anxious and that he was
preoccupied, a manner wholly new to her beloved Mr. Seth. So, as she
bade him good-night she asked:
"Is it anything I can help, dear Master?"
"Why do you fancy anything's amiss, lassie?"
"Oh! you show it in your eyes. Can I help?"
"Yes. You may break the news to Dinah that those twins are on our
hands for--to-night at least. I'm sorry, but together you two must
find them a place to sleep. We can't be unchristian you know--not on
the Lord's own day!"
He smiled his familiar, whimsical smile as he said this and it
reassured the girl at once. Pointing to a distant corner of the room,
where some considerate person had tossed down a sofa cushion, she
showed him the ill-named babies asleep with their arms about each
other's neck and their red lips parted in happy slumber.
"They've found their own place you see; will it do?"
"Admirable! They're like kittens or puppies--one spot's as good as
another. Throw a rug over them and let them be. I think they'll need
nothing more to-night, but if they do they're of the sort will make it
known. Good-night, little Dorothy. Sleep well."
After a custom which Father John had taught her, though he could not
himself explain it, Dorothy "set her mind" like an alarm clock to wake
her at six the next morning and it did so. She bathed and dressed with
utmost carefulness and succeeded in doing this without waking anybody.
Those whose business it was to be awake, as the house servants, gave
her a silent nod for good-morning and smiled to think of her energy.
The reason appeared when she drew a chair to a desk by the library
window and wrote the following letter:
"MY DARLING AUNT BETTY:
"Good-morning, please, and I hope you'll have a happy day.
I've written you a post card or a letter every day since you
went away but I haven't had one back. I wonder and am sorry
but I suppose you are too busy with your sick friend. I hope
you aren't angry with me for anything. I was terrible sorry
about somebody--losing--stealing that money! There, it's
out! and I feel better. Sorrier, too, about it's being
_him_. Well, that's gone, and as you have so much more I
guess you won't care much. Besides, we don't need much.
Dear Mr. Seth is just too splendid for words. He thinks of
something nice to do all the time.
"Yesterday we went to church and so did the dogs and the
twins. I haven't told you about them for this is the first
letter since they came and that was just after breakfast
Sunday. A crazy man brought them and said he'd 'passed them
on.' They're the cutest little mites with such horrible
names--Ananias and Sapphira! Imagine anybody cruel enough to
give babies those names. They aren't much bigger than
buttons but they talk as plain as you do. They said 'A-ah!'
and 'A-A-men!' in the middle of the sermon and stopped the
minister preaching. I wasn't sorry they did for I didn't
know what they'd do next nor Luna either. They three and Mr.
Seth are the uninvited, or self-invited, ones and they're
more fun than all the rest. Mabel fell out the carriage, or
jumped out, and spoiled her dress and fainted away.
"My House Party is just fine! Monty got stuck in the barn
and had to be sawed apart. I mean the barn had to be, not
Monty; and not one of us said a word about it.
"I'm writing this before the rest are up because afterward I
shan't have a minute's chance. It's a great care to have a
House Party, though the Master--we call Mr. Winters that,
all of us--takes the care. I don't know what we would do
without him, and what we can without that stolen money.
Monty says if he had that or had some of his own, he'd be
able to manage without any old Master, he would. That was
when he wanted to go sailing Sunday afternoon and Mr. Seth
said 'no.'
"Monty's real smooth outside but he has prickly tempers
sometimes; and I guess he--he sort of 'sassed' the Master,
'cause he refused to give us any money to hire a sail boat
and Monty hadn't any left himself. But it all blew over. Mr.
Seth doesn't seem to mind Monty any more'n he does his
tortoise-shell cat; and he's a very nice boy, a very nice
boy, indeed. So are they all. I'm proud of them all. So is
Mabel. So is Molly B. Those two are so proud they squabble
quite consid'able over which is the nicest, and the boys
just laugh.
"Oh! I must stop. It's getting real near breakfast time; and
dear Aunt Betty, will you please send me another one hundred
dollars by the return of the mail? I mean as quick as you
can. You see to-day, we're going around visiting
'Headquarters' of all the revolution people. There's a lot
of them and they won't cost anything to see; but to-morrow
there's 'The Greatest Show on Earth' coming to Newburgh and
I _must_ take my guests to it. I really must.
"Good-by, darling Aunt Betty.
"DOROTHY.
"P. S.--I've heard that people can telegraph money and that
it goes quicker that way. Please do it.
"D.
"P. P. S.--Mr Seth says that this Headquartering will be as
good as the circus, but it isn't easy to believe; and Melvin
isn't particularly pleased over the trip. I suppose that's
because our folks whipped his; and please be sure to
telegraph the money at once. The tickets are fifty cents
a-piece and ten cents extra for every side-show; and Molly
and I have ciphered it out that it will take a lot, more'n
I'd like to have the Master pay, generous as he is. Isn't it
lovely to be a rich girl and just ask for as much money as
you want and get it? Oh! I love you, Aunt Betty!
"DOROTHY; for sure the last time."
One of the men was going to early market and by him the writer
dispatched this epistle. Promptly posted, it reached Mrs. Calvert that
morning, who replied as promptly and by telegram as her young relative
had requested. The yellow envelope was awaiting Dorothy that evening,
when she came home from "Headquartering" with her guests, and she
opened it eagerly.
But there seemed something wrong with the message. Having read it in
silence once--twice--three times, she crumpled it in her hand and
dashed out of the room scarlet with shame and anger.