A SHOCKING DEMONSTRATION OF INTEMPERANCE
The merrymaking was at its height. The festive board had been cleared
for dessert.
"Cleared for action," Captain Pennell said.
"Not heavy fire I hope," sighed Shortie. "Peggy, will you excuse me, but
I have surely got to let out a reef if anything more is coming," and
Shortie let out a hole or two in the leather belt which encircled the
region into which innumerable waffles had disappeared.
"There are others; yes there are CERTAINLY others," laughed the captain.
"Peggy, my child, to play Circe and still smile is absolutely cruel. The
ancient Circe frowned upon her victims."
"And how can I swallow another morsel," was Polly's wail. "Peggy
Stewart, why will you have so many good things all at once? Couldn't you
have spread it out over several meals and let us have it on the
instalment plan?"
"Wheedles couldn't have his birthday that way," laughed Peggy,
unwittingly letting a cat escape from a bag, for woe upon the midshipman
whose birthday is known. Thus far Wheedles had kept it a profound
secret, and Mrs. Harold and Polly, who were wise to what was likely to
happen to him if it were known, had kept mum. But, alack, they had
forgotten to warn Peggy and her words touched off the mine.
"Eh? What? Never! Something doing? You're a sly one. Thought you'd get
off scot-free, did you? Not on your sweet life! Let's give him what for.
Excuse this digression, Peggy; it's a ceremony never omitted. It would
have been attended to earlier in the day had we suspected, and it can't
be delayed any longer. Besides we MUST shake down that which has gone
before if more is to follow. Beg pardon, Little Mother, but you know the
traditions. Make our peace with Dr. Llewellyn for this little side-
show," and the next second Wheedles was in full flight with all his
chums hotfoot upon his trail.
How in the world those boys could run as they did after such a feast
without apoplexy following, must remain a mystery to all excepting those
who have lived in their midst.
Over the lawn, dodging behind the oaks, vaulting the fence into the
adjoining field, to the consternation of half a dozen sleek, sedate
Alderney cows, tore Wheedles, his pursuers determined to overhand him
and administer the drubbing incident to the iniquity of having a
birthday.
Dr. Llewellyn and Captain Pennell rose to their feet, one shouting, the
other yelling with the rest of the mob, while Mrs. Harold and the girls
could only sit and laugh helplessly.
It was Shortie's long legs which overtook the quarry, both coming to the
ground with a crash which would have killed outright any one but a
football tackle and a basket-ball captain. In a second the whole bunch
had the laughing, helpless victim.
"Look the other way please, people," called Shortie, promptly placing
Wheedles across his knee--two men holding his arms, two more his kicking
legs--while Shortie properly and deliberately administered twenty
sounding spanks. Then releasing him he said to the others who were
nothing loath:
"Finish the job. I've done my part and I've had one corking big feed."
And they finished it by holding poor Wheedles by his shoulders and feet
and bumping him upon the grass until he must have seen stars--AND THE
DINNER WAS WELL SHAKEN DOWN.
"NOW will you try to get away from us?" they demanded, putting him upon
his feet.
"It's all over but the shouting, Little Mother, and we'll be good," they
laughed as they trooped back to the table, settling blouses, and giving
hasty pats to their dishevelled pates, for Wheedles had certainly given
them a run for their money.
Meanwhile, Jerome and Mammy had looked on half in consternation, half in
glee, for where is your pure-blooded African, old or young, who doesn't
sympathize with monkey-shines? As the administrators of justice were in
the midst of their self-imposed duties, the half-dozen little darky
servitors appeared around the corner of the house bearing the dessert,
and there is no telling what might have happened to it had not Aunt
Cynthia, hearing the uproar, and "cravin' fer ter know ef de rown' worl'
was a-comin' to an end," followed close behind her satellites. That
great mold of ice cream, mound of golden wine jelly, dishes of cakes
galore would certainly have met total destruction but for her prompt and
emphatic command:
"Yo' chillern 'tend to yo' bisness an' nemmine what gwine on over
yander." That saved the feast, for the little darkies were convinced
that "one ob dose young mens liked ter be kill fer suah."
Had it been mid-July instead of a Maryland November that ice cream could
not have vanished more quickly, and in the process of its disappearance,
Jerome vanished also. This was not noticed by Peggy's guests, but his
return was hailed with first a spontaneous shout and then a:
"Rah! Rah! Hoohrah! Hoohrah! Navy Hoohrah!" and "Oh that's some cake!"
"Nothing the matter with THAT edifice." "Who said we couldn't eat any
more?" For with the dignity of a majordomo Jerome bore upon its frilled
paper doily a huge chocolate layer cake, ornately decorated with yellow
icing, and twenty dark blue candles, their yellow flames barely
flickering in the still air, while behind him walked his little
trenchermen, one bearing a big glass pitcher of amber cider, another,
dishes of nuts, and another a tray of Mammy Lucy's home-made candies.
If ever a birthday cake was enjoyed and appreciated, certainly that one
was, and there is no telling how long the merry party would have
lingered over the nuts, candies and cider had not a startling
interruption taken place.
The afternoon was well advanced. Mrs. Harold, the captain and Dr.
Llewellyn had reached the limit of their appetites and were now watching
and listening to the merry chatter of the young people who sat sipping
the cider--they had long since passed beyond the DRINKING point--and
eating the black walnuts and hickory nuts which had been gathered upon
the estate, for Severndale was famous for its cider and nuts. The cider
was made from a brand of apples which had been grown in the days of
Peggy's great-grandfather and carefully cultivated for years. They
ripened late, and needed a touch of frost to perfect them. The
ciderhouse and press stood just beyond the meadow in which the
Severndale cows led a luxurious life of it, and the odor of the rich
fruit invariably drew a line of them to the dividing fence, where they
sniffed and peered longingly at "forbidden fruit." But if every dog, as
we are told, has his day, certainly a cow may hope to have hers some
time. That it should have happened to be Wheedles' day also was merely
accidental.
As in most respectable communities there is almost invariably an
individual or two whose conduct is open to criticism, so in Severndale's
eminently irreproachable herd of sleek kine there was one obstreperous
creature and her offspring. They were possessed to do the things their
more well conducted sisters never thought of doing. The cow had a strain
of distinctly plebian blood which, transmitted to her calf, probably
accounted for their eccentricities. If ever a fence was broken through,
if ever a brimming pail of milk was overturned, if a stable towel was
chewed to ribbons, a feed bin rifled, it could invariably be traced to
Betsy Brindle and her incorrigible daughter Sally Simple, and this
afternoon they surpassed themselves. As Peggy's guests sat in that
blissful state of mind and body resulting from being "serenely full, the
epicure would say," they were startled by an altogether rowdy, abandoned
"Moo-oo-oo-oo," echoed in a higher key, and over the lawn came two as
disreputable-looking animals as one could picture, for Betsy Brindle and
her daughter, a pretty little year-old heifer, were unquestionably,
undeniably, hopelessly intoxicated. Betsy was swaying and staggering
from side to side, wagging her head foolishly and mooing in the most
maudlin manner, while Sally, whose potations affected her quite
differently, was cavorting madly thither and yonder, one moment almost
standing upon her head, with hind legs and tail waving wildly in mid-
air, the next with the order reversed and pawing frantically at the
clouds.
Behind the arrant ones in mad chase and consternation came the young
negro lad whose duty it was to see that the cattle were properly housed
at nightfall. He had gone to the meadow for his charges only to find
these incorrigibles, as upon many another occasion, missing. How long
they had been at large he could not guess. At last, after long search,
he discovered them in the inclosure where the barreled apples were kept
and two whole barrels rifled. When this had taken place his African mind
did not analyze, though a scientist could have told him almost to an
hour and explained also that in the cows' double stomachs the apples had
promptly fermented and become highly intoxicating, with the present
result. But poor Cicero was petrified. His young mistress entertaining
"de quality" and his unruly charges scandalizing her by tearing into
their very midst.
"Moo--o--moo, e--moooo--" bellowed Betsy, making snake tracks across the
lawn.
"Moo, Moo, Moo, Moo, Mooee--" echoed Sally in lively staccato, doing a
wild Highland fling with quite original steps.
"Hi dar! Come 'long away. Get off en dat lawn. Come away from dat 'ar
pa'ty," screamed Cicero. "Ma Lawd-a-mighty, dem cows gwine 'grace me an'
ruin me fer evah," and it would doubtless have proved true had not the
boys sprung to their feet to join in the cowherd's duties, only too
ready for any prank which presented an outlet for their fun-loving
souls. Shortie promptly took command of the defending forces, and
crying:
"Come on, fellows, head the old lady off before she knocks the table
endwise," was off with a rush, the others hotfoot after him, waving arms
and shouting until poor old Betsy Brindle's addled head must have
thought all the imps of the lower regions turned loose upon her.
Circling wide, the boys made a complete barrier beyond which the poor
tipsy cow dared not force her way. So with a hopelessly pathetic "moo"
and a look at her adversaries which might have done credit to the mock
turtle of Lewis Carrol's creation, she surrendered forthwith, and
promptly flopped down in the middle of the lawn.
Not so her daughter. Not a bit of it! SHE had not finished her fling and
never did madder chase ensue than the one which at length ended in
effectually cornering the flighty one.
"Lemme tote her home. Fer de Lawd's sake, sah, lemme tote her home
quick, 'fore Unc' Jess an' Missie Peggy kill me daid," begged Cicero.
"You tote her home, you spindly little shaver! She'd part her cable and
go adrift in half a minute after you got under way. Come on, boys, we've
got to convoy this craft into her home port. Make fast," and with the
experience of three years' training in seamanship, Shortie and his
companions proceeded to make fast the recalcitrate Sally, and amidst
hoots and yells calculated to sober up the most hopeless inebriate, they
led her to her barn where Cicero read her the riot act as he fastened
her in her stall. Meanwhile Betsy had succumbed to slumber and at Dr.
Llewellyn's suggestion was left to sleep off the effects of her over-
indulgence. When the boys got back from the barn poor Peggy was run
unmercifully.
"And we thought Severndale a model home. A well-conducted establishment.
Yet the very first time we come out here we find even the COWS with a
jag on that a confirmed toper couldn't equal if he tried, and yet you
pose as a model young woman, Peggy Stewart, and are accepted in all good
faith as our Captain Polly's friend. Watch out, Little Mother. Watch
out. We can't let our little Captain visit where even the COWS give way
to such disgraceful performances."
Poor Peggy was incapable of defending herself for she and Polly had
laughed until they were weak, and for many a long day after Peggy heard
of her tipsy cows.
When peace once more descended upon the land it was almost time for the
visitors to return to Annapolis, but before departing they visited the
paddock, the stables, and the beautiful old colonial house. And so ended
Wheedles' birthday, and the next excitement was caused by the Army-Navy
game to which Peggy went with Mrs. Harold's party, enjoying the outing
as only a girl whose experiences have been limited, and who is ready for
new impressions, can enjoy. And with the passing of the game November
passed also and before she knew it Christmas was upon her, and Christmas
hitherto for Peggy had meant merely gifts from Daddy Neil and a
merrymaking for the servants. Without manifesting undue curiosity Mrs.
Harold had learned a good deal concerning Peggy's life and nothing she
had learned had touched her so deeply as the loneliness of the holiday
season for the young girl. It seemed to her the most unnatural she had
ever heard of, and something like resentment filled her heart when she
thought of Neil Stewart's unconscious neglect of his little daughter.
She argued that his failing to appreciate that he was neglectful did not
excuse the fact, and she resolved that this year Peggy should spend the
holidays with her and Polly at Wilmot, and the servants at Severndale
could look to their own well-being. Nevertheless, Peggy laid her plans
for the pleasure of the Severndale help and saw to it that they would
have a happy time under Harrison's supervision. Then Peggy betook
herself to Wilmot for the happiest Christmastide she had ever known.
The holiday season at the Academy is always a merry one, but until very
recently, there has been no Christmas recess and the midshipmen had to
find amusement right in the little old town of Annapolis, or within the
Academy's limits. The frolicking begins with the Christmas eve hop given
by the midshipmen.
Mrs. Harold had not allowed Polly to attend the hops given earlier in
the winter, for she was a wise woman and felt that social diversions of
that nature were best reserved for later years, when school-days were
ended. But she made an exception at the Christmas season, when Polly in
common with other girls, had a holiday, and Peggy and Polly would go to
the hop.
Unless one has seen a hop given at the Academy it is difficult to
understand the beauty of the scene, and to Peggy it seemed a veritable
fairy-land, with its lights, its banners, its lovely girls, uniformed
laddies and music "which would make a wooden image dance," she confided
to Mrs. Harold, and added: "And do you know, I used to rebel and be so
cranky when Miss Arnaud came to give me dancing-lessons when I was a
little thing. I just HATED it, and how she ever made me learn I just
don't know. But I had to do as she said, and maybe I'm not glad that I
DID. Why, Little Mother, suppose I HADN'T learned. Wouldn't I have been
ashamed of myself now?"
Mrs. Harold pulled a love-lock as she answered: "You train your colts,
girlie, and they are the better for their training, aren't they?"
Peggy gave a quick glance of comprehension, and her lips curved in a
smile as she said:
"But they never behave half as badly as I used to with Miss Arnaud."
And so the Christmas eve was danced away.
Christmas morning was the merriest Peggy had ever known. Long before
daylight she was wakened by Polly shaking her and crying:
"Peggy, wake up! Wake up! What do you think? Aunt Janet has filled
stockings and hung them on the foot of the bed. She must have slipped in
while we were sound asleep, and oh, I don't wonder we slept after that
dance, do you?" rattled on Polly, scrambling around to close the window
and turn on the steam, for the morning was a snappy one.
"Whow! Ooo!" yawned Peggy, to whom late hours were a novelty and who
felt as though she had dropped asleep only ten minutes before. "Why,
Polly Howland, it's pitch dark, and midnight! I know it is," she
protested. "How do you know there are stockings there, anyway?"
"I was shivering and when I reached over to get the puff cover my hand
touched something bumpy. I've felt of it and I KNOW it's a stocking. I
never thought of having one, for I thought all those things were way
back in little girl days. But turn on the electric lights quick--they're
on your side of the bed--and we'll see what's in them; the stockings, I
mean."
Peggy turned the button and the lights flashed up.
"Goodness, isn't it freezing cold," she cried. "Let's put the puff cover
around us," and rolled up in the big down coverlet the girls dove into
their bumpy stockings, exclaiming or laughing over the contents, for
evidently the boys had been in the secret, for out of Peggy's came a
little bronze cow and calf labeled "C. and S."
"Now what in the world does C. and S. stand for, I wonder?" she said.
"Oh, Peggy, those are the initials for 'Clean and Sober,' the report the
officer-of-the-deck makes when the enlisted men come aboard after being
on liberty. If they are intoxicated and untidy they check them up D. and
D.--which means Drunk and Dirty. You'll never hear the last of Betsy
Brindle's caper."
"Well look and see what they've run you about, for you won't escape,
I'll wager," laughed Peggy as merrily as though it were broad daylight
instead of five A.M.
Polly dove into her stocking to fish out a tiny rocking horse with a
doll riding astride it. The horse was to all intents and purposes on a
mad gallop, for his rider's hair, DYED A VIVID RED, was streaming out
behind, her collar was flying loose, her feet were out of the stirrups
and one shoe was gone. The mad rider bore the legend:
"Lady Gilpin."
A dozen other nonsensical things followed, but down in the toe of each
was a beautiful 19-- class pin for each of the girls, with "Co-ed 19--"
engraved on them and cards saying "with the compliments of the bunch."
By the time the stockings' contents were investigated it was time to
dress and go with Mrs. Harold to see the Christmas Parade, always given
before breakfast in Bancroft Hall and through the Yard. Mrs. Harold
tapped upon the girls' door and was greeted with "Merry Christmas! Merry
Christmas!" She entered, taking them in her arms and saying:
"Dozens and dozens for each of you, my little foster-daughters. I am so
glad to have you with me, for Christmas isn't Christmas without young
people to enjoy it, and I think I've got some of the very sweetest and
best to be had--both daughters and sons. There are no more children like
my foster-children. I am one lucky old lady."
"Old!" cried Peggy indignantly, "Why you'll never, never seem old to us,
for you just think, and see, and feel every single thing as we do."
"That's a pretty compliment," replied Mrs. Harold, sealing her words
with a kiss which was returned with earnest warmth, for Peggy was
learning to love this friend very dearly.
The Christmas Parade was funny enough, for the midshipmen had sent to
Philadelphia for their costumes and every living thing, from Fiji
Islanders, to priests, bears, lions, ballet girls or convicts raced
through the Yard to the music of "Tommy's band" as they called the
ridiculous collection of wind instruments over which one of the
midshipmen waved his baton as bandmaster.
When this great show ended, all hurried away to dress for breakfast
formation, for many were the invitations to breakfast with friends out
in town, legal holidays being the only days upon which such privileges
were allowed. Mrs. Harold had a party of five beside Polly and Peggy and
the griddle cakes which vanished that morning rivaled the number of
waffles which had disappeared at Severndale. When breakfast ended Mrs.
Harold said:
"Can you young people give me about two hours out of your day? Polly and
I have laid a little plan for someone's pleasure, which we know will be
enhanced if you boys cooperate with us."
"Count on us, Little Mother."
"We'll do anything we can for you, for you do enough for us."
"Sure thing," were the hearty replies, while Peggy slipped to her side
to whisper: "I'd almost be willing to give up my 'Co-ed' class pin if
you asked me to."
"No such sacrifice as that, honey. But let's all go up to Middies' Haven
where I'll tell you all about it."