Judge Arthur, with wishes for many returns of the day." She presented
with a flourish, a huge feather duster adorned with a great green bow.
That was the signal and the others at once produced parcels of all sizes
and shapes, and bestowed them upon the judge, who opened them under a
rapid fire of friendly wit.
The special form of recreation offered for the evening was called
"Strange Compounds." Catherine had taken the idea from the nonsense
verses which had been spreading over the country as generally as the
limericks of a few years before. The guests grouped themselves at little
tables, and some, with shears and pages cut from old natural histories,
geographies or poultry and live stock journals, created grotesque
illustrations for the verses descriptive of the hippopotamustang and the
kangarooster and other strange beasts which Catherine and Alice
concocted during the afternoon. Others labored over historical
combinations and the deeds of Bathrobespierre were sung in limpid
strains, and the plaintive history of Old Black Joan of Archaeology set
every one off into a gale of mirth. The Three R's had done so many
foolish things together in the many years since their beginning as a
club, that they were ready to laugh before a joke was thought of, and in
that atmosphere of appreciation the frailest wit was bound to flourish.
Mrs. Osgood headed a party of gardeners whose attempts at grafting
produced such startling results as cro-custards and gerani-umbrellas.
When some one requested help in developing the theme of a disaster,
Judge Arthur shouted from the animal table that he had attempted to draw
a wild-cat-astrophe and the picture would probably do for both!
Just in time to save them all from mental collapse, the white-gowned
maidens brought in the dainty salad, sandwiches and cups of fragrant
coffee. Then the noble birthday cake, wreathed in scarlet flame, was set
before the judge, the candles blown out with good wishes, and the cake
cut and served with the ice.
Dr. Harlow rose to announce that the prize for the most complete
compound was given to Mr. Kittredge, who had conceived of a
"pigeon-toad, with a lovely long dove-tail, and a pot-pied waistcoat
ringed and streaked, and a sweet dove-cot-ton veil." Frieda and Hannah
came solemnly into the room, bearing a crate, from the top of which
appeared the head of a rooster, with a big bow of ribbon around its
neck. They set it down before the minister amid the shouts of the
assembled company.
"You may crow as much as you like, Sir," said the doctor, "but this
fellow will beat you." And straightway, as though primed for his part,
the rooster opened his mouth and filled the room with a long and lusty
cock-a-doodle-doo!
"I was so afraid they would hear him before we brought him in," said
Frieda to the girls, as the four gathered on the window-seat. "He kept
growing and growing out there!" and then she looked bewildered at the
others' sudden mirth. Her peculiarities of pronunciation were so few
that the girls could never learn to expect them, and this, added to the
other nonsense of the evening, was too much for even Catherine's
self-control.
"I never saw grown-up people do such funny things," said Hannah, in
order to cover their laughter. "Do they always act this way, Catherine?"
"O, no, indeed. I never saw them put in a whole evening quite so
foolishly before. I didn't know whether they would take the idea up or
not, but Judge Arthur loves to laugh, and lately mother said they had
had quite stupid commonplace meetings,--cards and talking politics and
literary and musical programs,--and she wanted something entirely
different. They're a lot of dears, anyway! The younger set wouldn't
think of laughing so hard and being so hilarious, even the Boat Club;
and you should see the formal dignified parties that the Galleghers and
those girls give! They go in carriages and the dancing doesn't begin
till nine, though every one has a six o'clock supper and almost goes to
sleep waiting for it to be stylishly late to go. Max and Archie and Bess
and Win always go, and sometimes the rest of us get in, but we hardly
feel acquainted with each other when we meet in such surroundings.
Polly's mother told her she ought to entertain that crowd a while ago,
because she was 'indebted,' and she planned a luncheon party, and at the
last minute changed her mind and got up a Boat Club picnic instead. That
was the last picnic before you girls came."
"I've heard so much about those jolly picnics," said Hannah, "and we
haven't been to one!"
"I know. Isn't it odd that it happens so? But we'll have one the night
before we go back to college. The moon will be full, and the boys have
all the plans made. There! They're beginning to leave." And Catherine
went forward to help her mother's guests find hats and scarfs.
"I never heard Catherine talk so much at once before," said Frieda
lazily. "She looks beautiful to-night, too,--to boot!" She had just
heard that phrase and though a little uncertain as to its exact
significance, took pleasure in inserting it here and there in her
speech.
"She's a darling dear," assented Alice, "and so is Dr. Helen, to boot!
Now let's help Inga clear things away and go to bed."
A half-hour later, Frieda and Alice in the guest-room were sound asleep,
and Hannah in her little bed was sleeping likewise. But Catherine was
sitting by the window writing, by moon and candle light, notes for the
_Courier_, due to appear to-morrow, and still lacking at least two
columns! She wrote slowly and conscientiously, trying to be clear and
simple, and yet not so unlike the usual style of the _Courier_ as
to excite comment. Presently she finished and, resting her elbows on the
window-sill, looked out into the night. Capella twinkled at her and she
leaned out to identify such of her beloved constellations as she could.
The house stood high on a hillside, and overlooked the streets of the
little town. Suddenly through the trees Catherine saw the gleam of a
moving lantern, then another and a third. She heard a voice call, and an
answer from a distance.
"I wonder what it means?" she thought, watching and listening. "It
sounds and looks very mysterious. _The Courier!_"
The recently acquired news instinct recognized in this mystery of voices
and moving lights at the dead of night a possible "scoop" for her paper.
To be sure, her paper was the only one in Winsted, but that did not
matter. She got up, and taking a long light cloak from the closet threw
it over her shoulders, drawing the silk hood over her head. Then she
stole out into the corridor and down the stairs, her party skirts
rustling, and the boards now and then creaking under her stockinged
feet. Down stairs she stopped, put on her pumps, and then let herself
out, closing the door softly behind her.
Outside everything was very still. Catherine felt a little frightened
and foolish. But having started, she would not turn back. Resolutely she
went down the walk in the direction in which she had seen the lights.
"I might take Hotspur, though," she thought, and turned back toward his
house under the porch. The big dog sprang up to meet her, and leaped
upon her, then drew her toward his kennel. Puzzled, Catherine followed
him, and once there, knelt down and looked inside. Curled on the straw
inside the roomy doghouse were two little figures. She pulled at them
and called. Suddenly one sat up and said: "Mamma! Peter!"
"Perdita Osgood! what are you doing here?" and Catherine drew a sleepy
dishevelled-looking little girl out and into her arms. Perdita blinked
and woke entirely.
"Elsmere and me went journeying," she said, "and we stayed all night in
Hotspur's house, so bears wouldn't get us."
Then Catherine remembered the other slumberer, and dragged Elsmere out
with more force than gentleness.
"I see now what the lights and the calling were," she said. "They
discovered that the children were not at home, and were out looking for
them. Poor Polly and poor Algernon! Elsmere, wake up here, and come
along home this minute. There, Perdita, I'll carry you, you sleepy,
naughty little girl. Elsmere, come along. Give me your hand."
Down the hill they went, and through the short cut to the Osgood house,
Elsmere running beside Catherine, who walked as rapidly as though
Perdita had no weight, Hotspur leaping and bounding alongside.
In the path, through a little grove, they saw a twinkling lantern and
Catherine called:
"Polly, Algernon! They're here! I'm bringing them home." With a rush the
lantern-bearers were upon her, and Perdita was taken from her arms into
Mr. Osgood's, while Algernon, husky and faint with relief, picked up his
brother and listened to Catherine's story. She followed the others to
the Osgoods', where Polly and Mrs. Osgood were waiting in suspense.
Perdita had been put to bed as usual, but when Mrs. Osgood came home
from the Three R's party she had gone in to tuck the children up, and
kiss them good night. Perdita was not there, and they searched the house
before they thought of being alarmed. Not finding her anywhere, they had
roused Peter and questioned him. He could only say: "I say, 'Perdita,
Perdita, stay home with Peter. Elsmere bad boy.'"
That suggested Elsmere, and investigation showed that, though he had not
been missed at home, he was not there. Then the men had taken lanterns,
and gone out to search.
No one was more distressed than Peter. "I'd ought to tooken care of
Perdita better," he would sob. "I'd ought to watched her better."
"There, there, boy," Catherine and Polly soothed him. "You did your
best, and she's home now, all safe, and won't go journeying again, ever.
She didn't like Hotspur's house, and she will stay home with Peter."
"O, Catherine," sighed Polly. "You are an only child, and you don't know
what agonies you can have over your brothers and sisters. It seems to me
ever since Peter and Perdita were born I've been worrying about one or
both of them!"
"Poor Polly!" said Catherine sympathetically. "But I don't suppose you'd
give me your share in them, would you?"
Polly caught Peter close, and hugged him till he protested and drew away
from her.
"Kiss me," she begged.
"I did," said Peter.
"Kiss me again."
"I did twice," said Peter. "I want to go to bed. Aw-ful sleepy!" and,
with a yawn that set the others to imitating him, he stumbled off toward
the stairs, in his little night clothes. Polly followed to make him
comfortable, while Mr. Osgood took Catherine home.
"You did us a great service to-night, my dear," he said, as he lifted
his hat to say good night, when she had reached her home porch. "But I
haven't learned yet how you happened to find them."
"I was out reporting for the _Courier_," she told him and then,
laughing softly at his astonished expression, explained her meaning.
"And though I did find out the news, I can't write it up," she sighed.
"I know how real journalists feel when they have to sacrifice a scoop
for reasons of delicacy."
"The _Courier_ shall not suffer!" said Mr. Osgood. "Since it was
for its sake that you went out, I'll have to see that Max gets a little
assistance. My profession doesn't advertise, but I have some influence
with one or two concerns that do, and I'll see that your next number is
full of something more profitable to the management than harrowing
accounts of midnight searches for missing babies!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE LAST PARTY
Rain.
Rain.
Rain.
"It's beastly," said Alice, with her nose pressed to the window-pane,
watching the cold drifting downpour.
"Let's go in and see if the others are awake."
So Frieda put on her heavy leather slippers, lined with figured satin
and edged with fur, and a very bunchy bathrobe, and followed Alice's
kimonoed figure across the wide corridor to Catherine's room.
They pushed the door softly open and entered.
Then they exchanged glances of mischief. Dr. Helen did not believe in
girls sleeping two in a bed, but Alice had found the big mahogany bed in
the guest-room lonely, and Frieda had found the cot narrow; so they had
made a law for themselves and slept together; and here, in Catherine's
four-poster, were also two heads, one auburn and one brown.
"Wake up, you two!" said Alice, tickling Hannah's plump cheek, while
Frieda tweaked the pink bow from Catherine's bronze braids.
"Time to take off your pink bow, dear. It's daylight and it looks worse
than goldenrod with red ribbon."
"Ouch! You needn't have given that last yank. I'm awake. Hannah!"
Hannah sighed and turned over. "Don't bother me," she said. "I didn't
get to sleep last night until this morning."
"Why aren't you in your own room and bed?" asked Frieda severely.
"I'll wager you two slept together, yourselves," said Catherine. "O,
Hannah, do wake up! It's raining!"
"Yes, that's what we came to tell you," said Alice. "We've just been
watching it wash away our beautiful moonlight picnic."
Hannah sat up and looked out.
"Isn't it beastly?" she remarked.
"I should call it foul," said Catherine, beginning to comb out her great
braids.
"Why not fish-ous?" suggested Alice mischievously, whereupon Hannah
pitched a pillow at her.
"Ow! Look out for my glasses!"
"Well, don't make such flat puns then. I believe you sleep with your
glasses on. How funny they must look staring away in the dark. There
goes the rising-bell. I'll beat every one of you to breakfast."
Dr. Helen was not sorry to see the rain. An all afternoon picnic, with
the evening and a late-rising moon added, did not seem to her a wise
plan for the day before going back to college,--"though I do dislike
putting a damper on your pleasure," she said at breakfast.
"There's a damper on this one," sighed Catherine. "Alice has not been up
the river yet, and the other girls haven't been to one real Boat Club
picnic. Mother!" and an inspired look came into Catherine's eyes, "why
couldn't we have our picnic in the library instead? It would be as
appropriate a way to end this summer as on the river, and this is one of
the closed evenings. Don't you think we could?"
The other girls held their breath with eagerness, while Dr. Helen
considered.
"I don't see any objection," she said presently. "I suppose that would
be more fun than having them all come here?"
"O, heaps more," cried Hannah. "It would be the jolliest kind of a
lark."
"Would the Board be willing?" suggested Alice.
"I'm sure of that," said Catherine. "Algernon will be the hardest to
persuade, for he feels as though the library were almost holy ground,
but I'll interview him at once."
The telephone was kept busy for the next half-hour; by its means
everything was arranged, and every one notified, and the girls went to
work making preparations for the supper. Polly and Dot came over in the
afternoon and the time slipped quickly by, trunk-packing and
sandwich-making being mingled in what seemed to the doctor, some of the
time, an almost hopeless jumble. At last the sounds of talk and laughter
and running up and down stairs ceased. The boys had arrived to carry
baskets, and a rain-coated procession tramped gayly off, waving good-bys
now and then to the two doctors standing in the window.
"It hardly seems as though Catherine could be the same girl," said her
father. "She is so eager and full of fun."
"But she keeps her quaint sweet dignity all the same," answered Dr.
Helen softly. "She will never lose her characteristic charm, and it is
such a comfort to have her well enough to wish to eat a cold supper in
that bare little room!"
"Can't they heat the place?" asked Dr. Harlow sharply.
"O, yes," his wife assured him, "and they have all solemnly promised me
to dry their skirts as soon as they get there! Hannah always contrives
to get into puddles."
"_She's_ not much changed," chuckled the little doctor. "Her
language is as funny now and then as Frieda's. She told me they were
going to relegate themselves on watermelon this evening!"
"It was a fortunate day for us when Catherine found her," and Dr.
Helen's eyes smiled, as they always did when Hannah's image came before
her mind. "And, do you know, I am very much pleased with Alice. She has
the honestest eyes, and her manners are as unconscious and simple as can
be. I should like to see her mother."
"Father's not so important, of course! But I agree with you, she's the
true blue sort. It's Frieda for me, though. Of all inscrutable
countenances, hers is the most. I believe she is, on the whole, the most
unforeseen young person I have ever had dealings with, and in whatever
direction she may choose to let herself out, in the future, she will do
something interesting, or 'I shall astonish'!"
At which quotation from the young lady in question, they both laughed,
and went out to their own supper, not at all sorry to have a quiet
evening alone.
It was not a quiet evening in the little library. Behind the drawn
shades, the boys and girls were busy spreading the long reading-table
with a white cloth, setting out upon it the motley collection of plates,
cups and silver ware which came out of the various picnic baskets, and
an equally motley, but very appetizing, array of good things to eat.
Winifred had laden Max with a chafing-dish, all legs and handles, he
declared, and with this at one end, Bess' little copper teakettle at the
other, Dorcas' asters for centerpiece and Polly's red-shaded candles at
accurate intervals between, the whole effect was "very festival," as
Frieda said admiringly.
As a finishing touch, Bertha and Algernon, official hosts, walked around
the table laying typewritten catalog cards at each place.
The others swarmed around instantly, examining and commenting.
"Cunning!" "Real library place cards!" "What a pretty idea!" "But
_what_ do they mean?"
Algernon and Bertha only laughed.
"No one can sit down till he has found his proper place," said Algernon
sternly. "This is a well-conducted library!"
"They all have the same number," cried Bert. "I'm on to that. See! It's
the date, fixed up to look like the mystic symbols they mark the books
with. 190.9 Se 16. September 16th, 1909. That's so much, gained. Now
some of you others can figure out the rest. I've done my share."
The others wandered around the table, picking up the cards and laying
them down again.
"_Brightness, or Beauty_," read Polly, disgustedly. "Imagine any
one of us owning up to that! Of course, we all know we have them both,
but who is going to claim them?"
"It's going to be a conflict between modesty and hunger soon, I can see
that," said Archie.
"_Peace_ and _Purity_ are all well enough. If I could find a
half-way sort like _Perfect Honesty_ or _Genius_, I'd stop
there! What's this? _Bright Raven!_ I tell you, it's a game, made
out of book titles. But I'll be jiggered if I ever heard of one of
them."
"I never did, either," said Dorcas, shortly. "They must have hunted
around in very queer places to find things that none of us know. _Star
of the Sea_, though, does sound familiar. Isn't it one of
Tennyson's?"
Bertha choked and turned away, avoiding Algernon's eye.
"Hurry up, and find yours, the rest of you," said Tom suddenly, "I'm
fixed and I'm ready to eat."
Every one pounced upon him, to discover that he had chosen to install
himself at a place marked _The Whiskered One_.
"I'm the only fellow here who ever wore a mustache," he said, "so it's
plain, though rather far-fetched."
"It's not your place, though, Tom, truly," said Bertha. "I'm afraid
we'll have to help. The librarian always does help stupid people."
"We won't ask him, though! If you two were bright enough to make these
cards, we'll figure out the meanings or go without our supper," said
Polly decisively, and the girls echoed her, though the boys groaned, and
Max helped himself to a sandwich.
"Now, listen," said Polly. "I'm president of this club, and I call you
all to order. I'll read the cards, one after another and you must all
think, and perhaps we'll be able to get on to the system--I mean, to
understand it."
Every one struck an attitude and waited while Polly walked up one side
of the table and down the other, reading aloud in order:
"_The Whiskered One._
_Chastity._
_Star of the Sea._
_A Twin._
_Consecrated to God._
_Extremely Bold; or Holy Prince._
_Peace._
_A Lover of Peace._
_Brightness, or Beauty._
_The Greatest One._
_Purity._
_The Woman Strong with the Spear._
_Bright Raven._
_Grace._
_A Gazelle._
_A Princess of Noble Birth._"
When she had finished, there was a moment's silence and then everybody
but Hannah burst out laughing.
With a little "O!" she flew across the room to the big dictionary, and
opening it toward the back, dropped on her knees before it.
"I have it!" she cried joyfully. "I used to study and study the meanings
of names when I was a youngster, and here they are. Mine means Grace and
I know where I'm going to sit, and the rest of you can find out in a
minute."
The long delayed supper was at last eaten, and sitting idly around the
table, with watermelon rinds before them, the young people talked over
the summer which seemed already closed.
"We've accomplished a lot, haven't we?" said Polly. "I'm really proud of
the Boat Club this year. It never used to stand for anything but its own
fun before, but from now on it will be a recognized factor in Winsted
life."
"Bully for you, Polly!" said Bert. "I never heard any one say 'factor'
offhand like that. It's one of the words I've always held sacred to
special topics and theses and such."
"Like 'objective' and 'subjective'?" asked Polly. "I always feel about
those as the old lady did about her pies, after she labelled them T. M."
"What did she label them like that for?" asked Frieda, leaning forward
from her seat between Winifred and Archie.
"O, dear," sighed Bert in mock despair. "Frieda has made us explain all
the old jokes we knew this summer, and I don't see how that one was
overlooked. Did you ever hear the riddle about when a door is not a
door, Frieda?"
"Yes," said Frieda good-naturedly. "It was in an English book I learned.
There was a whole chapter on riddles, and the answers were printed
upside down!"
"That dear Edith and Mary book!" cried Hannah. "Such a fine lot of
riddles as there were! I think you and I ought to give a copy of that
book to the library, Frieda!"
"That reminds me," exclaimed Algernon. "We have had gifts to-day. I
saved them to tell you when you should all be listening, for they came
to us through our honorary members, the Wide-Awakes."
"Hear!" "Hear!" shouted Max, but Polly rapped the meeting to order.
Alice and Hannah and Catherine and Frieda looked puzzled, and the others
interested, as Algernon went on.
"Mr. Kittredge told me to-day that they had voted to give the
Sunday-school library books to us, as he thought the public library much
more important than theirs, and they wanted to help all they could,
following the good example of several of the Sunday-school teachers.
That's a compliment to Dorcas and Catherine, both. So that's one of the
four 'notorious Wide-Awakes,' as Mr. Graham calls them. And then a Mr.
Tracy came in with his arms full of boxes, and said that his wife had
been ill here at the hotel for some weeks, and she had amused herself
during her convalescence with working on picture puzzles; now she was
well and going away, she did not want to take them with her, and, as the
Winsted Library had been a great help to her, she would like to give
them these six or seven puzzles, to be loaned to people like books. She
said she thought a small library like this where the librarian knew
every one personally, could easily handle such a department, for
convalescents and lonely old people. Pictures and games and all such
things might be included, to be loaned at the librarian's discretion,
only."
"What a good idea!" cried Polly, "but how do the Wide-Awakes come in on
that?"
"Just this way. Mrs. Tracy said that if we would let her name the
collection, she would be glad to add to it from time to time. And when
we consented, as, of course, we did, she said she wanted it called The
Hannah Eldred Department."
"Three cheers for Mrs. Tracy!" shouted Bert, and Max sprang to his feet
and led off with a right good will. Then followed cheers for Hannah, for
Catherine, for the Wide-Awakes and the Boat Club. When the noise
subsided, Algernon took the floor again.