TELLS HOW TOM WAS VISITED BY AUNT LOUISA--AND SOME OTHERS
Saturdays at Chicora were by way of being fête-days. Relatives and
friends were given the freedom of the camp, and the visitors’ table
in the dining-hall was usually full. Frequently the father of one of
the boys stayed over until Monday morning, sleeping in one of the
dormitories and getting a genuine taste of camp life. On the day
following the adventure at the cliff the visitors began to reach camp
early, and among the first to put in an appearance was Tom’s Aunt
Louisa, from Boston. Her arrival was so unexpected, and Tom became so
excited over it, that he started at the landing to tell her how glad to
see her he was and only finished at the flag-pole, having been set back
twice in his stuttering by stubbing his toe on the way up. With parents
and friends appeared simultaneously baskets and boxes of fruit, candy,
and cake. Sunday morning found many absent from the breakfast table,
and Dr. Smith made the rounds of the dormitories with what he called
his “Sunday Specific.” But Aunt Louisa wasn’t the sort to bring trouble
to a boy’s digestion; she said so herself in the presence of Nelson and
Dan and Bob and Tom, the first three having been formally introduced by
Tom as “my special friends.”
“I don’t believe in candy, Tom,” said Aunt Louisa, “and you know it.
So don’t expect any. You’re looking so well, my dear, that I wouldn’t
think of bringing you anything that might upset you. I did consider
fruit, but I’m always afraid of fruit; in hot weather--aren’t you, sir?”
Dan, finding the question put to him, answered with alacrity.
“Yes’m,” said Dan soberly.
“Yes, that’s what I think,” continued Aunt Louisa. “And so I said to
myself, ‘If it must be something sweet’--for Tom’s got the sweetest
tooth of any boy I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a good many in my
time--‘if it must be something sweet,’ I said, ‘why, it will be
something healthful.’ And so, Tom, I’ve brought you two of those lemon
pies and a dozen cream-puffs from that nice store on Temple Place.
There’s nothing about a good honest pie can hurt any one--is there?”
“No, indeed,” answered Dan with enthusiasm. Tom murmured his thanks,
but withal looked a trifle dissatisfied. Aunt Louisa saw it.
“I do believe he’s disappointed at not getting candy!” she said.
“No, really, aunt,” Tom answered, striving to put conviction into his
tones. “I’m awfully fond of cream-puffs--and pie.”
But Aunt Louisa shook her head, unconvinced. “I’m afraid you are,
though,” she said. “I kind of felt you would be. That’s why I said
to myself, ‘Now, there’s mighty little use in being in good health
if you’re unhappy. If the boy’s going to get more enjoyment out of
having a stomach-ache than by not having one, why, he shall have it.
Boys aren’t real happy, anyhow,’ I said to myself, ‘unless they’re in
trouble, and I guess a stomach-ache’s about as harmless a trouble as he
could have.’ And so I just went down to Sage & Paw’s and----”
“Hooray for you, Aunt Louisa!” shouted Tom. “What d’you get?”
“Mixed chocolates,” said Aunt Louisa, her eyes dancing, adding grimly,
“I guess they’ll do the work as quick as anything!”
Candy never tastes so good as when a chap has been subsisting on what
the school catalogues call “a plain, wholesome diet with a sufficiency
of pure milk and butter and fresh eggs.” The box, a generous
four-pound affair, was quickly obtained, and the five--Aunt Louisa
reminding one of a valuable transport under the protection of four
men-o’-war--sought a quiet spot in the forest above the clearing where
they, or at least four of them, could do the matter full justice. Aunt
Louisa sat on a fallen tree, with her neat gray traveling-gown well
tucked up around her, and encouraged them to eat all they could.
“You might just as well have it over with,” she declared. “You’re all
bound to be ill, and the sooner you’re ill the sooner you’ll be well
again. Mr. Hurry, you mustn’t let Tom get ahead of you.”
“Dan’s name’s Speede, auntie,” corrected Tom.
“Speede, is it? Well, he’s real slow compared to you, Tom, when it
comes to candy.”
They unanimously voted Aunt Louisa a “brick,” and hospitably pressed
her to come again. And in the afternoon, when the camp turned out in a
body and traveled to the ball field for the first game of the season,
Aunt Louisa was escorted in state. The box of candy didn’t go along
however; they had lost the edge of their appetite. So Tom bore the
depleted box to Maple Hall, and, because his locker no longer locked,
and because the sign artistically done on the door with a hot poker,
which sign surrounded a grinning skull and cross-bones and read,
“DANGER! KEEP OUT!” had no meaning for the other occupants of the hall,
he secreted it at the head of his bunk under the mattress.
Chicora’s adversary that day was Camp Trescott. Trescott was situated
directly across the lake in Joy’s Cove. It was a small camp, and the
dozen and a half fellows inhabiting it were all from one school.
Trescott rather prided itself on being select. But select or not, it
wasn’t much at baseball, and Chicora had little difficulty in winning
as she pleased. But despite a very one-sided score--17 to 3--there
were some good plays, and the spectators were well repaid for their
half-mile walk through the woods. Bob found plenty of things that
needed remedying, but on the whole the Chicora team played very well
for a first game.
There was quite a gallery of spectators at the evening plunge, and
Dan excelled himself at diving, bringing forth screams of terrified
protest from Aunt Louisa, who “just knew that Mr. Hurry would drown
himself, if he didn’t break his neck first!” Even Nelson, who of late
had been profiting by Dan’s instruction, did some very respectable
stunts in the line of what Tom called “high and lofty tumbling.” Aunt
Louisa, together with nearly a dozen other guests, stayed to supper and
camp-fire, being taken back to Chicora Inn at nine in the steam-launch.
A dozen or so of the boys went along with the guests, the Four among
them. There was a jolly big white moon that made a wide sparkling path
across the water, and there was a nice nippy little breeze from the
east that rendered the seats about the boiler very popular. Mr. Clinton
ran the launch, and coming back he made no protest when Bob, who was at
the wheel, turned the head of the Chicora across the lake and hugged
the opposite shore all the way back, explaining _sotto voce_ to Nelson
that “the longest way around was the shortest way home.”
It was after ten when they finally made the landing, and nearly half
past when, having helped the Chief make fast the boat for the night
and partaken of a lunch of milk and crackers in the dining-hall, the
Four tumbled into bed and put out their lanterns. And it was just about
midnight when a heartrending shriek broke out on the stillness and
brought every fellow into a sitting position in his bunk with visions
of murder. In the momentary silence ensuing there was a loud _thump_ of
a body striking the floor, the building shook on its foundations, and
Mr. Verder’s alarmed voice rang out:
“What’s the matter? Who yelled, fellows?”
“_Wha-wha-wha-what’s the mu-mu-mu-matter?_” shrieked a voice midway
down the hall. “I du-du-dunno what’s the mu-mu-mu--what’s the
mu-mu-mu-matter! I only know I’m bu-bu-bu-being eat-tu-tu-eaten alive!”
A howl of laughter rewarded the explanation, and lanterns were quickly
lighted. Dan was one of the first on the scene. Tom, his blankets
scattered around him, stood in his pajamas with staring eyes and busy
hands. First he rubbed and slapped one part of his body, then another,
and all the time he kept up an indignant stuttering.
“Tu-tu-talk about pu-pu-pu-pins an’ nu-nu-needles! Gu-gu-gee!
Su-su-somebody’s put a whole pu-pu-pu-package of ’em in mu-mu-my bed!”
“Shut up your howling,” said Dan with a grin. “What’s the fun?”
“_Fu-fu-fun!_” yelled Tom. “I wish you had it!”
“Had what?”
“Wha-wha-whatever it is, you bu-bu-bu-blamed idiot!” answered Tom
wrathfully. Then, with a sudden shriek, he leaped a foot into the air,
grabbed his pajamas above his left knee, and danced nimbly about the
floor, at last becoming entangled in the blankets and tumbling headlong
at the feet of Mr. Verder, who came hurrying up. Every fellow was on
hand by that time, and Tom was pulled sputtering to his feet. Mr.
Verder took the nearest lantern and investigated. The cause of Tom’s
unhappiness wasn’t far to seek. Over the bed and blankets swarmed a
veritable army of big black ants!
“Ants!” said Mr. Verder, laughing. “What are you doing, Ferris,
studying entomology?”
“Probably _ant_omology,” hazarded Nelson.
“Ants?” exclaimed Tom, still rubbing himself busily. “Ants! Gee,
I thought they were bu-bu-bu-bees at least! They haven’t done a
th-th-th-thing tu-tu-tu-to me, sir!”
“Well, I’m sorry, Ferris,” said the councilor. “The Doctor will get you
something to put on the bites. But what are they doing on your bed?”
“I gu-gu-guess it’s the cu-cu-cu-candy, sir,” said Tom sheepishly.
“Candy? What candy?”
For answer Tom raised the mattress, revealing a box about which the
ants were crawling excitedly to and fro.
“Well,” said Mr. Verder when the laughter had somewhat subsided, “after
this you had better keep your candy somewhere else.”
For answer Tom seized the box gingerly and hurled it out the nearest
window. Dr. Smith appeared with a bottle of witch-hazel, and Tom,
dispensing with his pajamas, received medical assistance. After that
order and quiet were restored only with much difficulty. Tom went
elsewhere to continue his interrupted slumber, hugging the bottle of
witch-hazel to his breast, but he couldn’t get beyond the gibes of
his companions. They sat on the edge of his new bunk and pointed out
the moral to him, which, according to them, was to the effect that
selfishness had been justly rewarded. And Tom, rubbing and grimacing,
had no spirit left with which to defend himself.
“It proves,” declared Dan, “that a fellow can have too many ants!”
Tom only groaned, whether at the pun or at his pain they didn’t know.