THE CAMP BABY
“If your majesty thinks Betty and I are going to let you and Frisky take
all the care of Nanno, you’re mightily mistaken,” said Cecily, when the
adoption of Nanno Donohoe had been agreed upon. “We’ll do half the work,
won’t we, Betsy? She’s going to be the Silver Sword baby just as much as
the Camp Baby, isn’t she?”
“Oh, yes, I suppose we’ll have to help along,” said Betty lazily. “We’re
in for it now! But you won’t catch Frisk doing anything except teach her
monkey-shines,—I can tell you that!”
In the afternoon, while the Mouse was listening to a severe lecture from
Fräulein Bunsen, Nancy dispatched a letter to her aunt, endorsing the
invitation, and two days later Jean and Frances received a note
containing thanks that came straight from Miss Newcomb’s grateful heart.
On the following Tuesday, the deaconess said, she and her little charge
would reach Crystal Lake Junction, and before going on to Lake Placid
she would give Nanno over to her niece, who had promised to be there to
meet the Camp Baby.
Tuesday came, and just before tea-time Jean, Betty, Cecily and Frances
were strolling up and down, watching impatiently for the arrival of the
carriage with Miss Hamersley, Nancy and the little guest of Camp
Huairarwee. Presently Jean’s cry, “They’re coming!” brought together a
welcoming group of girls.
The carriage stopped in front of the bungalow. “Here’s your baby!” said
Douglas who was driving. “She’s been asleep most of the way over. Wake
up, Nanno!” He dropped the reins and lifted a bundle which had been
lying half on the front seat and half on his lap. A small face became
visible, and they heard a sleepy sigh and murmur.
“She’s a perfect love!” said Nancy, springing down from the back seat.
“I’ll get down and lift her out,” said Douglas.
“No, I’ll take her!”
“No, give her to _me_!”
“Ah, no, give her to _me_!”
Carol, Eunice and Marion, who stood nearest, all stretched out their
arms at once.
“Here we go, baby! That’s the way!” And Douglas put Nanno into the
nearest pair of arms, which happened to be Carol’s. “I’ll carry her in
for you,” he said, jumping down. “No, no, you sha’n’t have her!”
returned Carol. “Oh, you baby-kitten! You darling, little, sleepy
thing!” She carried Nanno into the bungalow, the other girls following,
and the living-room at once became the scene of homage.
Carol seated herself in an armchair with Nanno on her lap, and Cecily
and Jean went down on their knees before the wicker throne.
“Isn’t she the duckiest!” said Nancy. “Now we’ll have Big Nan and Little
Nan!” and down she knelt too. The others pressed as close as they could,
and there, amid her cluster of admirers, Nanno awoke.
Various had been the portraits of the camp baby drawn by the fancy of
the girls; but no one had pictured Nanno as she really was,—a perfect
little _Mavourneen_. She had long black lashes, and they lifted and fell
and lifted again, showing the company two big Irish blue eyes. Her thick
black hair tumbled about her neck in waves and rings. She had a
bewitching noselet, a wide rosy mouth with dimples at the corners, and a
dimple in her pretty chin. Her cheeks were flushed from her nap, and her
skin had a lovely baby softness,—for not even six years of life in the
midst of dirt and neglect had been able to destroy the bloom of this
little Irish flower. Mavourneen stretched her arms and yawned and sat
up, blinking at the strange world into which she had awakened. The
corners of her mouth went up in the sunniest fashion, her dimples grew
deeper, and then a soft, little, musical voice inquired, “Where’s de
feller?”
“The fellow who brought you here?” asked Carol. “Why, he’s gone to take
the horse to bed, but you’ll see him again to-morrow morning.”
Nanno tipped her head on one side. “He’s awful nice,” she murmured.
“You little coquette!” cried Carol, giving her a squeeze.
Nanno saw people laughing and concluded that this new world was at least
a cheerful one. Her smile broadened, and she gave a chuckle. Then she
nestled her head back in the hollow of Carol’s shoulder, looked up with
her happy blue eyes and asked, “Is you Miss Jean?”
“No, sweetheart, I’m Miss Carol. _That_’s Miss Jean, and that’s Miss
Frances. They’re giving the money so you can be here. Isn’t that lovely
of them?”
“And you’re going to have a fine time, Nanno, and lots and lots of fun,”
said Jean.
“Nanno, you are my daughter,” said Frances. “You must call me Mother
Browne.” But Nanno declined with a gentle shake of her head. “Ah, g’wan!
I’m me own mommer’s goil,” she answered.
“You’re our baby, though, you precious lamb. You’re the Camp Baby!” said
Cecily, and an indignant little voice remonstrated, “I _ain’t_ a baby!
I’m six, goin’ on siven!”
“Where did you get that pretty dress, Nanno?” asked Marion.
“De Sister give it to me. She gimme lots o’ clo’s yisterday. See me new
shoes, an’ me hat,—an’ me cawt, ain’t it lovully!”
“Beautiful!” they assured her.
Amelie, the little Canadian waitress, came in just then with a tray. “I
bring de bébé she’s supper. I tink she lak to have heem now,” said she
in her odd Canuck dialect.
“Let _me_ give her her supper,” said Jean. “I want to make friends with
her.”
“Well, if you give her her supper, I’ll put her to bed,” said Betty, who
had lost her heart the instant those big blue eyes had looked into hers.
“I’ll dress her in the morning,” said Cecily.
“I can dress mesilf an’ me baby too! I don’t need nobody to dress _me_,”
said Nanno.
“Who’s your baby? Your little brother?” asked Eunice, and the musical
voice cried, “Sure!”
Carol set the independent little woman in a chair at the table before
the tray of cream toast, milk, and sugared raspberries; and while the
others went off to prepare for their own supper Jean and Cecily stayed
to wait upon Nanno.
“Wot’s dis?” the little girl inquired, and she looked critically at the
contents of her soup plate.
“That’s nice milk-toast. There’s your spoon. Now see how good it is,”
said Cecily.
Nanno took a generous mouthful and ate it thoughtfully, after which she
plunged her spoon into the raspberries.
“Oh, eat your toast first, dear!” Cecily remonstrated. Nanno peacefully
swallowed her berries almost whole and took another spoonful of her
dessert.
“Don’t you like your toast?” asked Jean.
“Nope,” replied Nanno. Then, with a smile which said “But be consoled,
my friends,” she added, “I like _thim_,” and shovelled up another
spoonful of raspberries.
“But you’ll like your toast with lots of _sugar_ on it!” said Jean, and
the despised dish, thickly snowed over, agreed with Nanno’s palate.
“You want to drink your milk too, dear,” Cecily reminded her, and she
held up the glass invitingly.
“I drink _tea_!” said Nanno.
“Tea!” exclaimed Jean. “Why, Nanno, that’s dreadful for you! It’ll make
you grow all yellow like a Chinaman!”
Nanno did not seem alarmed, for she proudly informed them, “Me baby
drinks tea too.”
“Your baby brother!” gasped Cecily.
“Horrors! how old is he?” cried Jean.
“Five munts.”
“Wive months, and drinks tea!” Jean fairly shrieked. “Why, Cece, won’t
he kill himself?”
“He might as well take poison!” declared Cecily.
“Have you any other little brothers or sisters?” asked Jean.
“Me sister Katy.”
“How old’s Katy?”
“Dunno. She’s dead.”
“Oh, is she dead? Poor little Katy!” Jean was disconcerted to have
brought up a family sorrow; but Nanno seemed to find pleasure in
reminiscence.
“She died of ammonia,” she explained, Jean and Cecily looked at each
other and bit their lips.
“We had a wake an’ candles!” Nanno went on. “It was awful pretty! An’ I
rode in a carriage to the funeral! I like funerals.”
“You cunning thing!” laughed Jean. “_You_ didn’t have ‘ammonia,’ did
you?”
“Nope,” said Nanno regretfully, and added brightening, “But me toofs is
fallin’ out!” She opened her mouth and displayed a hole being filled up
with a coming white tooth. Then she fell into a revery over her toast.
“Do you think she’s getting h-o-m-e-s-i-c-k?” asked Jean anxiously.
“No, I think she’s only sleepy,” replied Cecily.
“I think I’ll get the d-o-l-l, anyway,” said Jean. She ran to their tent
and came back with the doll, to buy which a ten-miles drive had been
taken. It was the largest the shop had afforded,—a staring blonde, in a
scarlet dress and toque made by Cecily.
“Aw! ain’t she lovully!” Nanno jumped down from her chair and received
the gay beauty into her arms. She cuddled it, gazed at it, kissed it,
and talked to it in her soft brogue, her smile stretching nearly to her
little pink ears, and nothing less than love-light in her blue eyes.
“Aw, look at her shoes! Look at her stockin’s! Aw, she’s got a petticawt
wid lace!”
“What are you going to name her?” asked Jean.
“Katy,” replied Nanno promptly. “She’s goin’ to have a wake an’ lots an’
lots of candles!”
But Nanno was too sleepy to hold a _wake_ that night, and the black
lashes were dropping again by the time that Betty and Frances, Nancy and
Carol, came to put her to bed in the tiny bedroom of the bungalow where
Amelie, too, was to sleep and be the night-guardian of the camp baby.
“She’s as good as gold. We’re not going to have a bit of trouble with
her,” said Betty, the Sandman having rendered Nanno a docile cherub.
“She’s a little rascal!” was Jean’s verdict, however, when she and
Cecily had labored for nearly an hour over their baby’s toilet the next
morning. Nanno had awakened with opinions of her own, strongly
prejudiced against the cold sponge bath to which Jean tried to entice
her; firmly resolved to dress herself without assistance, and vehemently
objecting to having a comb brought in contact with her tangled curls.
“Nanno, which would you rather be? A nice, clean, pretty little girl, or
a piggy?” Jean had solemnly demanded, and Nanno’s unhesitating choice
had been the “piggy.” Alas, for the queen of the Silver Sword and her
bright dream of bringing up a daughter of the order! Alas, for the
princess of the Treasure, who had triumphantly robed the camp baby in
her nightgown, and who, before twenty-four hours were over, was reduced
to offering bribes of cookies and fudge to bring Nanno to obedience!
It soon became clear that the one person in the whole camp of whom Nanno
stood in awe, the only one for whose mandates she cared a pin, was Mrs.
Brook. For her own lawful guardians, and the regiment of nursery maids,
she had no reverence whatever. Jean, Cecily and Betty coaxed, pleaded
and threatened. Little Miss Independence listened with her head on one
side, dimpling mouth, and roguery in her eyes, and proceeded to carry
out her own little plans unless withheld by main force. Frances looked
on at the struggles of her friends with the serenity of a Buddha, always
ready to encourage them with: “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try
again!” but shamelessly refusing to take her share of the good work,
though Jean scolded, and even shook the faithless co-guardian.
Jean’s cares might have proved too much for even her determined spirit,
if Mrs. Brook had not come to the rescue and provided Nanno with a
companion of suitable age. Little Leila Myra Penfield, who lived on a
farm near by,—received a standing invitation to come to the camp and
play with Nanno. Leila Myra quickly succumbed to Mavourneen’s tyranny,
and acted as if the little Irish witch had cast a spell upon her; for no
matter how often she departed in tears, leaving Nanno victorious after a
quarrel, she was back again the next day. The two children had gone to
housekeeping under the trees one hot afternoon. Eunice, reading in the
hammock near by, heard an indignant “Le’ go! It’s mine!” and looked up
to see the six-year-old hostess and her guest fighting for the
possession of the doll’s go-cart. She went to arbitrate, but Nanno met
her argument that Leila Myra was _company_, with the counter-argument,
“De go-cart’s _mine_!” So Eunice knelt down with an arm around each
claimant and explained the Golden Rule in alluring terms. “And now,” she
ended, “we’ll see which little girl is going to have the pleasure of
giving up to the other.” She returned to her book confident that there
would henceforth be harmony. Presently a pitiful wail, followed by the
rattling of the go-cart, made her glance up again. Leila Myra was
retiring in tears to the kitchen, to be consoled by Amelie, and Nanno
was gleefully cantering along dragging her property after her.
“Miss Unie, dear!” called the camp baby. “Leila Myra’s had the pleasure
of givin’ up to me!”
“Isn’t she as good as a circus!” said Nancy, when Eunice reported her
success as a peacemaker to her tent-mates.
The mist hung over the lake, and the hills were looking out of
cloud-blankets the next morning when, soon after dawn, Miss Hamersley
stood on the shore with the four battle maids, watching Douglas and
Jack, each with a guide-boat, pulling for the dock. They were to row to
the foot of Eagle Cliff and climb the hill in time to see the sunrise.
Miss Hamersley, Frances and Cecily put off in Jack’s boat, and Jean and
Betty followed with Douglas. Jean had just taken up the long green
paddle to steer, when they heard a gleeful little shout from the land.
Looking back they saw a scarlet-robed fairy dancing gaily down the bank.
“There’s Nanno!” groaned Jean and Betty together.
Nanno it was, arrayed in the red flannel wrapper laboriously made for
her by her guardians, and carrying her doll now divested of clothing.
“Hello, Pug-nose!” called Douglas.
“Nanno, go back! Go right straight back to bed again!” cried Jean in
desperation. “Oh, bother! I’ll have to take her back myself!”
“Katy’s goin’ bathin’!” shouted Nanno, trotting down to the pebbly
strand.
“Nanno! Go back! Don’t go into the water!—Oh, there she goes! Douglas,
take me back quick!” Douglas backed water, but before they reached the
shore the mischief was done. Nanno had waded out into the ripples,
letting the skirt of her wrapper trail in the lake as she
conscientiously ducked her child.
“Oh, look at that little rascal! Now I can’t go at all!” said Jean.
“I’ll have to get her dressed as quick as I can.”
“No, I’ll stay home and dress her this time,” said Betty. “It’s my
turn.”
“You sha’n’t do it! I promised I’d take care of the little bother and
I’m going to!” answered Jean.
“We’ll row around a little and come back for you when you’ve dressed
Pug,” said Douglas.
“No—there’s no use my trying to go anywhere, now she’s awake. You’ll
have to go without me,” returned Jean petulantly.
“Katy’s gettin’ nice an’ clean, now,—she was awful dirty!” said Nanno,
as the boat hit the dock.
“You naughty little monkey! I don’t see why you couldn’t have stayed
asleep!” grumbled Jean. “Oh, dear, look at your wrapper! It’s soaking!
And you’ve spoiled your nice worsted slippers!”
“Dey ain’t spiled,—dey’ll dry,” Nanno assured her placidly. Jean led her
up to the bungalow with the air of an irate nursery-maid, but Nanno was
in a joyous humor, and proved it by all sorts of antics while she was
being dressed.
“Now stand still and don’t hop! I can’t button a thing! Nanno, if you
don’t behave this minute, I’ll tell Mrs. Brook!” Jean threatened. Nanno
paused on one foot, her head cocked sidewise.
“Ah, Nanno, if you’ll only be good, I’ll tell you a lovely fairy-story
as soon as you’re dressed,” pleaded Jean. And Nanno yielded to bribery.
Jean soon had her charge dressed and munching gingersnaps. “Tell me the
story now,” said the child as they strolled out hand in hand.
“Yes, yes,—I will,” answered Jean. “Let me see—.” She gazed up at the
sky where the silver mist was giving place to rosy clouds. “I’ll tell
you about the Sunrise Fairies. See that great pink cloud, Nanno! That’s
the house where the fairies of the sunrise live.” And her good humor
returned as she invented a tale about the elfin children who played in
the sunrise palace, and sailed through the sky in beautiful cloud boats.
“Dey sell ice-pie up dere,” Nanno interrupted, with a yearning for the
products of the New York push-carts.
“Oh, no, they don’t! But they have lovely pink cloud ice cream.”
“Me an’ you’s goin’ to live up dere,” said Nanno, when the story was
over. “When we get dere, I’ll give you a pink kiss!”
“Why, Babykins, what’s a pink kiss?” Jean asked.
“It’s de best kind.”
“And you’ll give me one? How beautiful!”
“Yis, an’ I’m goin’ to give Miss Francie a lovully red kiss!” said
Nanno, who had a profound admiration for the Mouse. “An’ I’ll give Miss
Cecy a blue one.”
“And what will you give Miss Betty?”
“Oh, dest a white one,—dat’s good enough for _her_.” Nanno had found
Betty less long-suffering than Cecily and Jean. “I’ll give Douglas a red
kiss, an’ a blue kiss, an’ a yeller kiss,—an’ a _green_ kiss!” she
added, loyal to the color of the shamrock. “An’ I’ll give _Fryline_ a
ugly _black_ kiss!”
“Poor Fräulein!” laughed Jean, recalling the little teacher’s endeavors
to discipline the spoilt pet of the camp. “Aren’t you going to give
anybody but me a _pink_ kiss?”
Nanno shook her head. “Nope; dey’s all for you, ’cause I love you
_best_.” At this Jean hugged the giver of kisses till she wriggled
herself free. It was worth losing the sunrise excursion to find that she
had won Mavourneen’s heart.