PEGGY STEWART: CHATELAINE
Peggy had entered a new world. Plunged into one, would perhaps better
express it, so sudden had been her entrance, and her letters to Daddy
Neil, now on his way to Guantanamo for the fall drills, were full of an
enthusiasm which almost bewildered him and started a new train of
thought.
As he knew most members of the personnel of the ships comprising the
Atlantic fleet, he, of course, knew Commander Harold, though it had
never occurred to him to associate him with Annapolis, or to make any
inquiry regarding his home or his connections. Like many another, he was
merely a fellow-officer. He was not a classmate, so his interest was
less keen than it would have been had such been the case. Moreover,
Harold was in a different division of the fleet and they very rarely
met. But now the whole situation was changed by Peggy's letter. He would
hunt up Mr. Harold at the first opportunity and with this common
interest to bind them, much pleasure was in store.
True to her word, Peggy sent her letter off every Sunday afternoon--a
conscientious report of the week's happenings. Her "log," she called it,
and it was the comfort of Daddy Neil's life.
Meanwhile, she spent about half of her time with Mrs. Harold and Polly,
and in a very short time became as good a chum of Mrs. Harold's "boys,"
the midshipmen, as was Polly. There was always something doing over at
the Academy, and as Mrs. Harold's guest, Peggy was naturally included.
At present football practice was absorbing the interest of the Academic
world and its friends, for in a few weeks the big Army-Navy game would
take place up in Philadelphia and Mrs. Harold had already invited Peggy
to go to it with her party. Peggy had never even seen a practice game
until taken over to the Naval Academy field with her friends, where the
boys teased her unmercifully because she asked why they didn't "have a
decently shaped ROUND ball instead of a leather watermelon which
wouldn't do a thing but flop every which way, and call it tussle-ball
instead of football?"
There was a little circle which gathered about Mrs. Harold, and which
was always alluded to as "her big children." These were men from the
different classes in the Academy, for there were no "class rates" in
"Middies' Haven," as they called her sitting-room. Peggy met them all,
though, naturally, there were some she liked better than others. Among
the upper-classmen who would graduate in the spring were three who were
at Middies' Haven whenever there was the slightest excuse for being
there. These boys who seemed quite grown-up men to fourteen-year-old
Peggy, though she soon lost her shyness with them, and learned that they
could frolic as well as the younger ones, went by the names of Happy,
Wheedles and Shortie, the latter so nicknamed because he was six feet,
four inches tall, though the others' nicknames had been bestowed because
they really fitted. There were also two or three second-classmen and
youngsters who frequently visited Mrs. Harold, one in particular, who
fascinated every one with whom he came in touch. His name was Durand
Leroux, and, strange to state, he looked enough like Peggy to be her own
brother, yet try as they would, no vestige of a relationship could be
traced, for Peggy came of purely Southern stock while Durand claimed New
England for his birthplace. Nevertheless, it became a good joke and they
were often spoken of as the twins, though Durand was three years Peggy's
senior.
Polly's chum, Ralph Wilbur, was about the same age as Durand, though in
the lowest or fourth class, having just entered the Academy, and
consequently was counted as very small fry indeed. He was a quiet,
undemonstrative chap but Peggy liked him from the moment she met him. He
had mastered one important bit of knowledge: That a "plebe" does well to
lie low, and as the result of mastering that salient fact he was well
liked by the upper-classmen and found them ready to do him a good many
friendly turns which a more "raty" fourth-classman would not have found
coming his way.
Altogether, Peggy found herself a member of a very delightful little
circle and was happier than she had ever been in her life. In Mrs.
Harold she found the love she had missed without understanding it, and
in Polly a companion who filled her days with delight.
And what busy days they were. So full of plans, duties and pleasures,
for Mrs. Harold had been very quick to understand the barrenness of
Peggy's life in spite of her rich supply of this world's goods, and she
promptly set about rounding it out as it should have been.
And so November with its wonderful Indian Summer slipped on, and it was
during one of these ideal days that an absurd episode took place upon
the well-conducted estate of Severndale, which caused Peggy to be run
most unmercifully by the boys. But before we can tell of it a few words
of explanation are needed.
As can be readily understood, in a large institution like the Naval
Academy, where the boys foregather from every state in the Union, there
are all classes and all types represented.
Among them are splendid, fine principled fellows, with high moral
standards and unimpeachable characters. And there are, alas, those of
another type also, and these are the ones who invariably make trouble
for others and are pretty sure to disgrace themselves. Fortunately, this
type rarely survives the four years' crucial test of character,
efficiency and aptitude, but is pretty sure to "pack its little grip and
fade away," as the more eligible ones express it, long before it comes
time to receive a diploma.
Unhappily, there was one man in the present first class who had managed
to remain in the Academy in spite of conduct which would have "bilged"
(Academy slang for the man who has to drop out) a dozen others, and who
was the source of endless trouble for under-classmen over whom he
contrived to exert a wholly malign influence. He seemed to be not only
utterly devoid of principle and finer feeling, but to take a perfectly
fiendish delight in corrupting the younger boys. His one idea of being
"a man" seemed to lie in the infringement of every regulation of the
Academy, and to induce others to do likewise. He had caused the
president of his class endless trouble and mortification, and distressed
Mrs. Harold beyond measure, for her interest in all in the Academy was
very keen, and especially in the younger boys, whom she knew to be at
the most susceptible period of their lives.
Had his folly been confined to mere boyish nonsense it might have been
overlooked, but it had gone on from folly to vicious conduct and his
boast was that it was his duty to harden the plebes, his idea of
hardening them being to get them intoxicated.
Now if there is one infringement of rules more sure to bring retribution
upon the perpetrator than any other, it is intoxication, and the guilty
one is most summarily dealt with. This was fully known to Blue, the
delinquent referred to, but he had by some miraculous method thus far
managed to escape conviction if not suspicion, though more than one
unfortunate under-classman had been forced to tender his resignation as
the result of going the pace with Blue.
So serious had the situation become that the president of the first
class had quietly set about a little plan in cooperation with other
members of his class which would be pretty sure to rid the Academy of
its undesirable acquisition. It was only a question of giving Blue
enough time to work his own undoing, and as things had begun to shape,
this seemed pretty sure to take place. Naturally, with feeling running
so strong, Peggy heard a good deal of it when she visited Middies'
Haven, especially since Durand Leroux, whom she had grown to like so
well, seemed to have been selected by Blue as his newest victim, greatly
to Mrs. Harold's distress, for she knew Durand to be far too easily led,
and too generous and unsuspicious to believe evil of any one. Happy-go-
lucky, carefree and ever ready for any frolic, he was exactly the type
to fall a victim to Blue's insidious influence, for Blue could be
fascinating to a degree when it served his turn. Blue was debarred the
privilege of visiting Middies' Haven, and his resentment of this
prompted him to try to wreak his vengeance upon Mrs. Harold's boys. To
their credit be it told that he had hitherto failed, but she had
misgivings of Durand; he was too mercurial.
Now Peggy had, as chatelaine of Severndale, been more than once obliged
to order the dismissal of some of the temporary hands employed about the
paddock, for Shelby was rigid upon the rule of temperance. He would have
no bibblers near the animals under his charge. He had seen too much
trouble caused by such worthless employees. Consequently, Peggy was wise
beyond her years to the gravity of intemperance and had expressed
herself pretty emphatically when Blue was discussed within the privacy
of Middies' Haven, for what was told there was sacred. That was an
unwritten law. And all this led to a ridiculous situation one day in the
middle of November, for comedy and tragedy usually travel side by side
in this world.
It fell upon an ideal Saturday afternoon, a half-holiday at the Academy.
It also happened to be Wheedles' birthday, and Mrs. Harold never let a
birthday pass without some sort of a celebration if it were possible to
have one. She had told Peggy about it, and Peggy had promptly invited a
little party up to Round Bay.
Now visiting for the midshipmen beyond the confines of the town of
Annapolis is forbidden, but Mrs. Harold, as the wife of an officer, was
at liberty to take out a party of friends in one of the Academy
launches, so she promptly got together a congenial dozen, Ralph, Happy,
Shortie, Wheedles and Durand, Captain Pennell and four others besides
Polly and herself, and in the crispness of the Indian Summer afternoon,
steamed away up the Severn to Round Bay.
Peggy had asked the privilege of providing the birthday feast and
understanding the pleasure it would give her to do so, Mrs. Harold had
agreed most readily. So immediately after luncheon formation the party
embarked at the foot of Maryland Avenue and a gayer one it would have
been hard to find.
Knowing the average boy's appetite and the midshipman's in particular,
Mrs. Harold had, with commendable forethought, brought with her a big
box of crullers, in nowise disturbed by the thought that it might spoil
their appetites for the delayed luncheon. Breakfast is served at seven
A.M. in Bancroft Hall, and the interval between that and twelve-thirty
luncheon is long enough at best. If you add to that another hour and a
half it is safe to conclude that starvation will be imminent. Hence her
box of crullers to avoid such a calamity.
The launch puffed and chugged its way up the river, running alongside
the pretty Severndale dock sharp to the minute of four bells. Peggy
stood ready to welcome them.
"Oh, isn't this lovely. Scramble ashore as fast as you can, for Aunt
Cynthia is crazy lest her fried chicken 'frazzle ter a cinder,'" she
cried as she greeted her guests.
"Who said fried chicken?" cried Happy.
"That last cruller you warned me against eating never fazed me a bit,
Little Mother," asserted Wheedles, as he assisted Mrs. Harold up the
stone steps leading from the dock.
"Beat you in a race to the lawn, Polly," shouted Ralph, back in
boyhood's world now that he was beyond the bounds of Bancroft, and the
next moment he and Polly were racing across the lawn like a pair of
children, for it seemed so good to be away for a time from the
unrelaxing discipline of the Academy, and Polly realized this as well as
the others.
"We are to have luncheon out under the oaks," said Peggy. "It is too
heavenly a day to be indoors. Jerome and Mammy have everything ready so
we have nothing to do but eat. You won't mind picnicking will you, Mrs.
Harold."
"Mind!" echoed Mrs. Harold. "Why it is simply ideal, Peggy dear. What do
you say, sons?" she asked turning to the others.
"Say! Say! Let's give the Four-N Yell right off for Peggy Stewart,
Chatelaine of Severndale!" cried Wheedles, and out upon the clear, crisp
autumn air rang the good old Navy cheer:
"N--n--n--n!
A--a--a--a!
V--v--v--v!
Y--y--y--y!
Navy!
Peggy Stewart! Peggy Stewart!
Peggy Stewart!"
Peggy's cheeks glowed and her eyes shone. It was something to win that
cheer from these lads, boys at heart, though just at manhood's morning,
and sworn to the service of their flag. How she wished Daddy Neil could
hear it. Captain Pennell, into whose life during the past month had come
some incentive to live, joined in the yell with a will, giving his cap a
toss into the air when the echoes of it went floating out over the
Severn, while Mrs. Harold and Polly waved their sweaters wildly, and
yelled with all their strength.
Never had Severndale been more beautiful than upon that November
afternoon. October's rich coloring had given place to the dull reds,
burnt-umbers, and rich wood browns of late autumn, though the grass was
still green underfoot, and the holly and fir trees greener by contrast.
And Peggy was in her element.
Never in all her short life had she been so happy. All the instincts of
her Stewart ancestors with their Southern hospitality was finding
expression as she led the way to a grove of mighty oaks, tinged by night
frosts to the richest maroon, and literally kings of their surroundings,
for the deep umber tones of the beeches only served to emphasize their
coloring. Beneath them was spread a long table fairly groaning with
suggestions of the feast to come, and near it, flanked by Jerome and
Mammy, stood Dr. Llewellyn.
As the party came laughing, scrambling or walking toward it he advanced
to welcome Mrs. Harold, saying:
"Did you realize that there would be thirteen at the feast unless a
fourteenth could be pressed into service? Consider me as merely a
necessary adjunct, please, and don't let the young people regard me as a
kill-joy because I wear a long coat buttoned straight up to my chin. The
only difference really is that I have to keep mine buttoned whereas they
have to HOOK THEIR collars," and the good doctor laughed. Introductions
followed and then no time was lost in seating the luncheon party.
Then came a moment's pause. Peggy understood and Mrs. Harold's intuition
served her. She nodded to Dr. Llewellyn, and none there ever forgot the
light which illumined the fine old face as he bowed his head and said
softly in his beautifully modulated voice as though speaking to a loved
companion.
"Father, for a world so beautiful, for a day so perfect, for the joy and
privilege of association with these young people, and the new life which
they infuse into ours, we older ones thank Thee. Bring into their lives
all that is finest, truest, purest and best--true manhood and womanhood.
Amen."
Not a boy or girl but felt the beauty of those simple words and
remembered them for many a day.
The grove was not far enough from the house to chance the ruin of any of
Aunt Cynthia's dainties. A grassy path led straight to it from her
kitchen and at the conclusion of Dr. Llewellyn's grace Peggy nodded
slightly to Jerome who in turn nodded to Mammy Lucy, who passed the nod
along to some invisible individual, the series of nods bringing about a
result which nearly wrecked the dignity of the entire party, for out
from behind the long brick building in which Aunt Cynthia ruled supreme,
filed a row of little darkies each burdened with a dish, each bare-
footed, each immaculate in little white shirt and trousers, each
solemnly rolling eyes, the whites of which rivaled his shirt, and each
under Cynthia's dire threat of having his "haid busted wide open if he
done tripped or spilled a thing," walking as though treading upon eggs.
Along they came, their eyes fixed upon Jerome, for literally they were
"between the devil and the deep sea," Jerome and Cynthia being at the
beginning and end of that path. Jerome and Mammy received and placed
each steaming dish, the very personification of dignity, and in nowise
disconcerted by the titter, which soon broke into a full-lunged shout,
at the piccaninnies' solemn faces.
It was all too much for good Captain Pennell and the boys, and any "ice"
which might possibly have congealed the party, was then and there
smashed to smithereens.
"Great! Great!" shouted Captain Pennell, clapping his hands like a boy.
"Eh, this is going some," cried Happy.
"Bully for Chatelaine Peggy!" was Wheedles' outburst.
"Who says Severndale isn't all right?" echoed Ralph.
"Peggy, this is simply delicious," praised Mrs. Harold.
Peggy glowed and Jerome and Mammy beamed, while the little darkies beat
a grinning retreat to confide excitedly to Aunt Cynthia:
"Dem gemmens an' ladies yonder in de grove was so mighty pleased dat dey
jist nachally bleiged fer ter holler and laugh."
Far from proving drawbacks to the feast the captain and the doctor
entered heart and soul into the frolic, the doctor as host, slyly
nodding to the ever alert Jerome or Mammy to replenish plates, the
captain waxing reminiscent and telling many an amusing tale, and Mrs.
Harold beaming happily upon all, while to and from Cynthia's realm ran
the little darkies full of enthusiasm for "dem midshipmen mens who suah
could eat fried chicken, corn fritters, glazed sweet 'taters, and
waffles nuff fer ter bust most mens."
Certainly, Aunt Cynthia knew her business and if ever a picnic feast was
appreciated, that one was.
But the climax came with the dessert.