A CORONATION
Two days later Jean and her father, Carol and Douglas, arrived at
Halcyon Lake. They stopped at Hurricane first to restore Douglas to his
chum; and then the other travellers went on to Huairarwee and received
an enthusiastic welcome. A bevy of eager girls clustered around the
carriage as it stopped. Carol sprang down, to be caught and fairly
smothered by her classmates. Jean made a joyful swoop over the wheel and
into the arms of Cecily and Frances, who held her so tight that Betty
and Stella had to embrace the whole trio. The instant that her battle
maids released her, Nanno was upon her, winding her chubby little arms
and legs around her long lost guardian, while Jean hugged the rosy
dumpling of a mavourneen. Such a babel of merry voices, as Carol and
Jean were escorted in triumph to their tents! Such a rattling of
tongues, as the news of Chipmunk Lodge was poured out!
“You dear old Joan of Arc! I thought I’d never get you back!” said
Cecily, drawing Jean down on a cot and squeezing her anew.
“I thought I’d never get back to _you_, you dear old St. Cecilia!”
returned Jean. “Oh dear! I want to hug everybody all over again!”
“Cece, you’re the grabbiest thing that ever lived!” cried Betty. “Go
’way! Give the rest of us a chance!”
“It’s _my_ turn,” said Stella. “I’ve something to tell you, Jean. I have
a mother, now!”
“And I have a sister!” said Cecily.
Jean stared from one to the other. “Stella! You don’t mean—!”
“Yes, I do!” said Stella, with a joyous little laugh. “I’m going to live
with Mrs. Brook—with _Mother_!”
“Stella! How perfectly _glo-o-orious_!” Jean sprang up and nearly
throttled the happy girl. “Are you going to live with her _always_?
Won’t you really have to go back to the farm any more?”
“No, I won’t ever have to go back. Pa don’t want me,” answered Stella.
“And we _do_ want her,” said Cecily. “She’ll be my sister, and keep
Mammykins company while I’m at school. Isn’t it the loveliest thing!”
“Oh, Stella! I’m so glad!” cried Jean. “I couldn’t bear to think of your
going back! My, isn’t everything turning out like a regular fairy-story!
You’re Cecily’s sister, and Douglas is my brother! Isn’t it just too
beautiful!” She whirled Stella around the tent in a mad tarantella as an
outlet for her delight. “I must tell Carol this minute!” she exclaimed,
as they stopped for breath.
“Whoa! Don’t gallop away!” said Frances. “Carol’s known about it for
ever so long.”
“But we kept it a secret, to surprise you when you came back,” Stella
explained. “Oh, Jean, you don’t know what it means to me! You girls all
have mothers, and lovely homes—you don’t know how it feels to have
nothing at all! And now I’m going to have a mother again, and a sister,
and the loveliest home that ever was—and _everything_!”
Here the dinner horn sounded. Stella hurried to her tent to smooth her
tumbled hair, and Cecily to the bungalow, to give a finishing touch to
the goldenrod and autumn leaves decorating the table.
“Now we’ll tell you the rest of the secret,” said Betty to Jean. “After
Mrs. Brook decided to take Stella, Carol and Eunice got up a plan that
all of us girls should club together and pay for her dresses and things
till she’s able to earn her own living. So we’re all going to join and
raise a fund. But Stella doesn’t know that yet.”
“Those big girls are getting good at last!” remarked Frances. “It’s
because they’ve had _me_ for an example, all summer.”
“Let’s make them all honorary members of the order!” cried Jean. “Jolly!
jolly! Now I know what’ll be our Silver Sword work next winter! Let’s
raise money for the fund! Let’s earn enough to give Stella music
lessons! Carol says she has a splendid ear.”
“Hooray!” cried Frances. “We’ll give a play a month! Won’t we have a
winter of larks!”
“Won’t _I_ have a busy time as treasurer!” laughed Betty.
A second peremptory toot of the horn sent the three girls scurrying to
the bungalow. “We’re to have dinner in the kitchen,” said Betty. “Jean,
you must promise solemnly, on your golden shield, not even to _peep_
into the living-room.”
Jean’s curiosity burned at a white heat as she took her place at the
table in the cozy kitchen. The campers were to say good-by to Halcyon
next morning, and a farewell dinner party was now given, with Mr. Lennox
as the guest of honor.
“Joan of Arc,” said Cecily, as the ducks came sizzling from the oven,
“you’re not to have Blanche for your room-mate next winter, after all!
Miss Carlton wants her to room with Adela. She thinks there’ll be less
skylarking.”
“And I’m to room with Betsy in the Orioles’ Nest!” said Frances. “Miss
Carlton thinks I’ll be a good influence for her!”
“Miss Carlton wants me to keep _Frisk_ in order!” Betty corrected.
“Then, Cece, you’ve _got_ to room with me!” Jean broke in.
“That’s just what I’m going to do,” said Cecily. “We’re to have Castle
Afterglow.”
“Oh, St. Cecilia! How perfect!” cried Jean. “Won’t we have fun! You must
come home with me over Sundays. I’m to go home every other Sunday. Dear
old bouncing Blanche! She’ll be a good, solid weight to tie Adela to!
She’ll steady the White Mouse if anything will!” And all four girls went
off into ripples of happy laughter.
“Now, Motherling, tell us,—have we been good daughters all summer?”
asked Eunice, at dessert.
“The best daughters in the world,” answered Mrs. Brook. “I shall be
lonely for you all next winter.”
“Then will you take us back again next summer, if we can come?”
“With all my heart I will! Next summer and _every_ summer this camp will
be ready for you.”
“Three cheers!” cried Nancy. “I’m coming, with the camp baby under my
arm!”
Carol rapped on the table. “Camp Huairarwee, stop eating apple pie, and
take a vote,” said she. “I move that we all try our best to come back
next summer. Somebody please second the motion.”
“I second it!” responded every one of her eighteen fellow-boarders.
“The motion is _eighteenth_-ed,” Carol announced. “All in favor of a
jolly summer next year, signify it by saying ‘Ay’!”
“Ay!” burst forth unanimously, and Cecily clapped her hands in delight.
“Daddy!” Jean called to her father, at the other end of the table,
“Can’t _we_ come to Halcyon next summer? There’s the dearest little mite
of a camp standing empty right next door to Huairarwee. We could rent
that!”
“But it won’t hold all of you, Jean,” said Cecily. “Your father and
mother and Douglas can stay there, but _you_’ll have to live with us.”
“When our daughters settle things for us, there’s nothing left to be
said,” Mr. Lennox observed to Mrs. Brook.
“Fräulein and Miss Hamersley must come and chaperone us again,” said
Eunice.
“You’re a handful, but I’m ready,” replied Miss Hamersley.
“Not I! Not if you are to be lost in forests and on mountains again,”
laughed Fräulein, shaking her head at Jean and Carol. “I see my hair
grow gray already!”
“Nobody else sees it,” said Carol. “That one little _contrary-minded_
shall be kidnapped by me and _brought_! You’re just the right size to be
tucked into a suit-case, Bunny, liebchen!”
“Carolchen, ven vill you learn to be respectful!” said the little
teacher. “Ach, wohl! I suppose I haff to come, to take care of my two
storm-children.”
Dinner over, Jean was invited to show her father through the labyrinth,
and to remain in it till summoned. In half an hour Mrs. Brook called the
exiles back, sent Mr. Lennox to the bungalow, and took Jean to the
battle maids’ tent. There, spread out on her cot, Jean found a white
satin robe, and on Cecily’s a cloak of ruby-colored velvet.
“Why—what’s that?” she cried. “That looks like the dress Eunice wore
when she acted Juliet! And _that_—that’s the cloak Carol had for Romeo!”
The finery carried her back to the evening at Hazelhurst when the older
girls had acted _Romeo and Juliet_, but how had it been spirited into
camp!
Mrs. Brook would tell no secrets, but she took Jean in hand, and—presto,
change! Instead of a lassie in a corduroy mountain suit, there stood a
royal personage, robed in shimmering white satin, her velvet cloak
falling from her shoulders, her court train sweeping the floor. Cheeks
rosy with excitement, blue eyes laughing and dancing, dusky hair flowing
loose over her mantle—the Queen of the Silver Sword came forth from her
tent to find awaiting her a merry dark-eyed maid of honor, in an antique
gown as yellow as a daffodil. Frances took the ends of the regal train,
and Jean was conducted to the bungalow. As they stepped upon the veranda
the door was opened for them by two porters whose extraordinary attire
made Jean stop short in amazement. One was an Indian, through whose
war-paint she recognized Jack’s features. He was wrapped in a gorgeous
red blanket, and his superb hen-feather war-bonnet proclaimed him a
chief of renown. The other was a frontiersman of Colonial times. He
leaned, not on crutches, but on his rifle, and he wore fringed leggings
and jacket, and a coonskin cap, which he doffed as the queen entered her
palace.
A palace it was indeed! The walls were tapestried with evergreens and
autumnal foliage, and adorned with golden shields crossed by silver
swords. Two rows of court ladies were waiting to receive her majesty,
and they made a dazzling array, for more than one trunkful of
costumes—the relics of Hazelhurst tableaux and theatricals—had lately
arrived in camp. Jean saw medieval dames, oriental princesses, and
European peasants. Nancy and Marion, in their pale green and
peach-colored satins, with tall pointed head-dresses, might have
presided at tournaments as “queens of love and beauty.” Helen and
Dorothy were charming as Pocahontas and Minnehaha; Eunice seemed to have
stepped out of the pages of Shakespeare, for she was a fair and stately
Portia, in red silk cap and gown; and pretty Rose Hamilton was the fairy
queen Titania, surrounded by attendant elves, all with spangled robes
and gauzy wings.
Jean’s bewildered eyes roamed over the sea of color, and down the hall
of state, to the dais that had been raised at the farther end. There she
saw a floral throne covered with goldenrod and purple asters. To the
left of the throne stood the princesses of the Scroll and the
Treasure—Cecily in rose pink, Betty in forget-me-not blue. Carol waited
on the right, and she had become a dryad of the forest. Her robe of
creamy yellow was trimmed with ruddy Virginia creeper and clusters of
rowan berries; she held a sickle and a sheaf of corn, and on her head
was a garland of bright maple leaves.
Suddenly, from the bower of evergreens around the piano, sounded the
march from Lohengrin. Cecily and Betty came down between the ranks of
courtiers and bowed before their sovereign.
“Oh, girls, it’s just like fairy-land!” Jean whispered. “But what does
it all mean?”
“It’s just a welcome home for you and Carol,” replied Betty. “We planned
it all as soon as we got back from Chipmunk Lodge.” And Cecily said,
“May it please your Majesty to advance and take your throne!”
With her maid of honor bearing her train, and the princesses following,
the queen walked slowly up to the dais. Carol stepped forward to meet
the procession. Bowing low, she took Jean by the hand and led her to the
throne.
“Carolie, you look perfectly _beautiful_!” whispered Jean.
“It is your Majesty who is beautiful!” Carol responded. “You are every
inch a queen!” Then she addressed the courtiers:
“When my young sister, Springtime, held sway over the land,” said she,
“the Queen of the Silver Sword was raised to the throne. Since then she
has valiantly fought to better the world, and her good sword Caritas has
been drawn whenever she has found a wrong to right. But, though Spring
and Summer have said farewell, her Majesty is still a queen uncrowned.
Now I, Autumn, have come. I have turned the forests to gold, and made
them ready for the coronation day. And you, fair ladies of the court,
are here to pledge your fealty to the Silver Sword, to pay homage to the
queen, and to present her with her crown and scepter.”
Autumn drew back, and up came Stella, all in white, her cloud-like veil
dotted with tiny stars. She bore on a cushion a circlet of frosted
silver; and as she knelt before the throne Cecily and Betty took the
crown, held it a moment aloft for all to see, then laid it on the head
of the young queen. There it gleamed, on the soft dark hair, and where
it rose to a point above the broad forehead were a shining “C” and “V.”
Then Cecily placed in her hand a gilded scepter.
“Long live the Queen!” Clear and full the chorus rang out.
Jean’s glowing face was all the reward her subjects asked, but she rose
and spoke:
“Ladies of the court, and you, my battle maids—” Then impulsively she
threw wide her arms as if she would embrace them all. “Oh, girls!” she
cried, “I _can’t_ make a speech! But I thank you millions and billions
and _trillions_ of times! I never dreamed we’d have a real silver crown
for our order! Oh, it’s all too beautiful and lovely! I ought to be the
best queen that ever lived, with such a crown and such subjects. But I
don’t deserve it one bit—I haven’t done anything at all! I know who
ought to be crowned—_Carol_ ought! She saved Douglas’s life, and she’s
nursed him all these weeks, and just done everything for everybody!”
Autumn was shaking her head and her sickle in vehement denial, but Jean
went on: “She ought to belong to the order, anyhow. She’d make a
splendid adviser—she always knows how to set things straight. Mayn’t I
have her for my chief councillor, or grand vizier or something?”
“You may and you _should_ have her,” said Mr. Lennox, who stood near the
dais. “‘In days of old, when _battle maids_ were bold,’ the Germanic
tribes had their _Alruna_ women who foretold the future, and, I’ve no
doubt, gave the chiefs excellent advice. Your Majesty’s humble and
obedient father suggests that you appoint Miss Carol your Alruna Maid!”
“That’s a splendid idea!” exclaimed Jean. “Kneel down, Carolie!” Autumn
knelt before the throne. Jean lifted the leafy garland, and replacing it
on the flowing chestnut hair, proclaimed Carol the Alruna of the Silver
Sword.
The Alruna kissed the royal hand; and then such a clapping as burst
forth, within the palace and outside, too!
“Long live the Alruna Maid!” shouted a manly voice. There was Court
looking in at an open window. At another were Dr. and Mrs. Hamilton.
“Spies! spies!” cried the courtiers, but they welcomed the spies
indoors, in time to see the camp baby do homage to the queen. Nanno, in
a scarlet Mother Hubbard cloak, came running up to the dais, which she
mounted with a hop. Then, measuring herself with one hand on top of her
black curls, she recited in her tuneful brogue:
“A little mavourneen am I,
I’m only dest so high!
But when I’m as old as you,
I’ll be a battle maid too!”
“You darling baby, indeed you _shall_ be a battle maid, too!” said Jean,
gathering Mavourneen up to a place beside her on the throne.
The assembled ladies then approached and kissed the royal hand; after
which up came Court, with the frontiersman and the redskin warrior.
Court was in his hunting suit, and equipped with rifle and
cartridge-belt. “Your Majesty,” said he, “allow me to present the famous
scout, Natty Bumpo, whom they used to call Deerslayer, and now call
Hawkeye; and also the young chief, Uncas, the last of the Mohicans. I
hope you’ll excuse Hawkeye and me for coming just as we are. We’ve been
out all day after venison for your Majesty’s banquet. Uncas is the only
one who has had time to put on his dress suit.”
“Heap much beautiful squaw here! Big chief like queen’s scalp best!”
observed Uncas, gazing with admiration at the silver circlet.
“You shan’t have my crown, nor my scalp either!” laughed Jean. “_You’ll_
protect me, won’t you, Hawkeye?”
“Killdeer never misses,” answered the scout, raising his rifle. “I’m
ashamed of Uncas,—he talks like a dog of a Mingo. But then he hasn’t a
white man’s gifts. It isn’t in _my_ gifts to know how to speak to a
queen, but—Great Cæsar! you look stunning!”
“Your Majesty’s so dazzlingly radiant, it hurts my eyes!” Court
declared, and he took his place beside the chief councillor. “Alruna
Maid,” he said, “I hope you won’t keep your good advice all for the
queen. When I come to New York in my Christmas vacation won’t you give
_me_ some good counsel, too?”
“Take care, Court! You’ll have a sermon from your clerical father if he
finds you going to an _Alruna_ for counsel,” replied Carol. “And once
you told Jean it was _your_ rule to do what you wished, first, and ask
advice afterwards.”
“Oh, that all depends on who gives the advice,” said Court. “I never had
an Alruna to go to before. Do you ever tell people’s fortunes? I shall
want to come and have my fortune told, some day.”
“Oracles never mind people coming to _inquire_,” the Alruna answered
graciously. Then her sunny eyes grew deep and full of mystery. “The veil
of the future is lifting,” said she—“just one little corner of it. I
see—a legacy! It comes from a great-aunt. And the grandnephew is so fond
of using the silver sword that he won’t spend one cent of it upon
himself. There—that’s as far as the veil will lift to-day.”
[Illustration: GAZING WITH ADMIRATION AT THE SILVER CIRCLET.]
Gay dance music sounded just then from the green bower where Fräulein
served as orchestra.
“I hope it’s my good fortune to have the Alruna for my partner,” said
Court.
“I fear it is your _fate_!” she laughed. “Fräulein’s playing my favorite
waltz.” A moment more and the hunter and the Alruna were gliding about
in the dance, and fantastic couples were revolving merrily all through
the palace.
“I can’t dance,” said Hawkeye, regretfully. “I got wounded trying to
_sarcumvent_ the Mingoes.”
“Uncas dance with paleface queen,” said the last of the Mohicans. He led
her majesty out, while the queen’s father renewed his youth by taking
for a partner the princess of the Scroll.
The bungalow had seen many a merry dance that summer, but this was the
merriest of all. After every waltz or two-step there was a change of
partners, the hunter and the young brave doing their best to dance with
every member of the court. The revel ended with the Virginia reel, out
under the trees. Douglas watched it from a rustic bench, and when it was
over Jean dropped down beside him to rest.
“I’m rather afraid of my sister, now she’s a queen with a crown on!”
said the boy. “I feel as if I ought to be down at your feet, instead of
sitting beside you.”
“Do I look so very royal?” asked Jean. “Oh, see there!” She pointed to
the lake. “There goes a kingfisher!”
“Two of them!” said Douglas, for first one blue-gray bird and then
another had arisen chattering from a tree overhanging the water. He
raised his rifle. “Shall I shoot?” he asked mischievously. “It brought
me good luck last time!”
“No, don’t shoot!” said Jean, laughing. “All the good things came
because we _saved_ the halcyon’s life!”
“And _two_ halcyons,” said Douglas, “ought to bring us twice the good
luck!”
* * * * *
The afternoon was wonderfully mild for so late in September. In the
slanting rays of the sun the water flashed beguilingly, and Jean was not
allowed to rest long on the rustic bench.
“It’s time for our sunset carnival, now!” said Cecily.
“You don’t mean there’s _more_ coming!” exclaimed Jean.
“Oh, yes, there is!” Cecily answered. “This is a three-act play. You and
Carol haven’t been out on the lake since the end of July, so we
thought—as we’d be all dressed for it—we’d wind up with a water
carnival. Come down and see your royal barge.”
Down to the lake tripped the queen and her court. Moored to the dock the
royal craft was waiting. A canopy, and plenty of ornamental cheesecloth,
had transformed the old camp fishing-boat into a barge which Cleopatra
herself need not have scorned. It was draped all in white and crimson; a
heap of bright cushions made a throne; a fantastic flag, gay as a
Venetian gonfalon, hung over the stern, almost trailing in the water;
while to a pole, erected like a mast, wound with crimson and white and
flaunting streamers of the same, was secured a large golden shield, with
the sword and motto of the order.
“What a beauty of a boat! How _did_ you dress it up?” cried Jean.
“I waved my wand, and it rose out of the lake!” replied the fairy queen
Titania.
Jean was made to take her place on the cushion-throne, with Stella at
her feet, Frances at the helm, and Cecily and Betty at the oars. A
general embarkation followed. Court and Jack launched the rowboats and
canoes, and helped the ladies to step aboard without detriment to their
finery; and at the last moment Court, with the Alruna, now returning to
her role as Autumn, slipped off to the kitchen and came back carrying
between them a huge basket of rosy, mellow apples, which they placed as
cargo in the _Hist-oh-Hist_. The fleet was soon on its way up the lake
to Fairy Cove. The queen’s barge headed the line. Close in its wake came
Uncas and Hawkeye, the scout reclining in the canoe while the Mohican
plied the paddle, Nanno sitting cuddled up contentedly between them.
Then came the _Hist_, paddled by the hunter, Autumn in the bow playing
her mandolin, for which she had exchanged her sickle, pausing now and
then to toss her gifts of apples to others of the masqueraders as they
came within range, for the rest of the gay procession gradually closed
up and surrounded the royal galley: Titania and her fays, Pocahontas and
Minnehaha, Portia and the Queens of Love and Beauty, peasant girls,
chivalric dames, and princesses of the Orient.
The clouds were warm with rose and gold as the gay party dropped into
Fairy Cove. There the queen and her battle maids let their barge drift,
while the others circled around them in a grand review. Carol touched
her mandolin and began to sing the boating song, _Santa Lucia_. The rest
took up the melody, and the sunset carnival became a sunset concert,
too. While the sky blushed up to the zenith, the sweet young voices rose
in song. And when the carnival fleet glided homeward again the oars and
paddles rose and fell to the melody of _Auld Lang Syne_.
Sky and lake seemed to have caught fire together as the keels grated on
the sand and the queen and her maidens stepped ashore. But over the dark
hills the clouds gloomed violet, and the sun was sinking fast, bringing
to an end that summer with its many halcyon days. The whole rainbow
company gathered on the beach to see the last of the sunset glory. A
flood of light poured over the happy queen. It shone on the princess of
the Scroll, as she stood at the queen’s right hand, and turned her fair
hair to St. Cecilia’s halo. It played with the Alruna’s flowing curls
and made them burn with ruddy gold.
“It’s been such a beautiful summer!” said Jean. “Even the sad part had
such a wonderful ending! And to-day—to-day’s the loveliest of all!”
The Alruna stretched out her hand toward the western sky, where a band
of clearest blue broke the rose and gold. “See that lake in the sky!”
she said. “That’s Halcyon Lake, next year! The future is unfolding
before me in the sunset! We are all coming back again—every one, and
_next_ summer we shall have with us _all_ the battle maids of the Silver
Sword!”
Down dropped the great globe of flame behind the purple clouds; its rays
were quenched, and the young sovereign and her court stood in shadow.
But again, through a rift, the golden light flashed forth, and the last
bright horizontal beams touched Jean’s silver coronet and made it
glisten. The Alruna spoke again:
“This is your _second_ coronation, little queen! The _sun_ is crowning
you now!”
FINIS
Transcriber’s Notes
The original spelling was mostly preserved. A few obvious typographical
and punctuation errors were silently amended. All other changes are
shown here (before/after):
[p. 322]:
... turned her face to the cliff and let herself down. ...
... turned her face to the cliff and let herself down, ...
[p. 335]:
... you’re going down those awful slides alone! ...
... your going down those awful slides alone! ...