Grandma Sparks folded her hands contentedly in her lap and fastened her eyes upon the distant tree-tops.
"Years and years ago, when this land was a vast forest, a band of Canadian and French soldiers and traders made their way through the wilderness to the banks of the Ohio where they built a small fort and started a trading post. The land was rich about them and they were soon carrying on a prosperous trade with the Indians who came to the fort. Though these Indians were friendly the soldiers had made the fort as strong as possible, for they knew that no one could tell at what moment they might be attacked! Sometimes weeks and months would pass when no Indian would come their way; then some of the traders would journey back along the trail with their wealth, leaving the others at the fort to guard it. In their number was a soldier who had once escaped from England; had gone into France and from there to Canada, all because he had made the King angry! Everyone in England thought he was dead. After years of lonely wandering he had joined the little band of adventurers when they started for the West--as they called it in those days! He was a queer man, for he seldom talked to his fellows, but they knew he was brave and would give up his life for any one of them! They called him Robert--no one knew his other name, nor ever asked.
" "It was the custom at the trading post to treat the Indians with great politeness. Sometimes great chiefs came to the fort and then the soldiers and traders acted as though they were entertaining the King of England. One early morning a sentry called out to his fellows that Indians were approaching. The soldiers quickly made all preparations for their reception. The commanding officer went forward with some of his men to meet them. The Indian band was led by a chief--a, great, tall fellow with a kingly bearing, and behind him another Indian carried in his arms the limp form of a white girl.
" "Briefly the chief explained that the girl was hurt; that they, the white men, must care for her! Where they had found her--what horrible things might have happened before they made her captive no one could know, for an Indian never tells and the white men knew better than to ask! The girl was carried into shelter and laid upon a rough wooden bed. It was Robert, the outlaw, who helped unwind the covers that bound her. In astonishment the soldiers beheld the face of a beautiful girl--waxen white in her unconsciousness. Silently the Indians let the white medicine-man care for their captive. She had been so terribly hurt that for days she lay as though dead! While the soldiers entertained the Indians, the medicine-man and Robert worked night and day to save the young life.
" "Having finished trading with the white men the Indians prepared to return to their village, which, they told the white men, was far away toward the setting sun. The girl was too ill to be moved; so, with a few words, the Indian Chief told the officer of the fort that soon they would return for the girl--whom he claimed as his squaw--and that if ill befell her, or, on their return, she was gone--a dozen scalps he would take in turn! The officer could do no more than promise that the Indian's captive would be well guarded. And every white man of them knew that as surely as the sun sets the Indian would return for the girl whom he claimed as his squaw, and that if she was not there for him to take, twelve of them would pay with their lives!
" "The weeks went on and the girl grew well and strong, but, because of her horrible accident, could remember nothing of her past. She was like an angel to the rough traders and soldiers; going about among them in the simple robe they had fashioned for her of skins and sacking, with her fair hair lying over her shoulders and her eyes as blue as the very sky. And because she could not tell them her name they called her Angele. One day a message was brought to their fort telling of war in the Colonies--that the English were fighting the French and that all Canada would be swept with flame and blood! Almost to a man they said they would go back to fight. One among them did not speak--it was Robert! Though he had fled from England never to return, he could not lift his hand against her. And someone must stay with Angele!
" "By the camp fire they talked it over. It was decided that four of them would remain at the fort until the chieftain came to claim his captive. One of these would be Robert; the other three would be chosen by lot. So while the others went home along the trail over which they had come, the four guarded the little fort for Angele's sake. Three of them gave little thought to that time when the Indian chief would come for the girl--to them, it simply meant that their guard would be ended and that they, too, might return--but Robert went about with a heavy heart, for, as the days passed, it seemed to him more and more impossible to give the girl into a life of bondage! Under the stars he vowed that before he would do that he would run his knife deep into her heart, and pay with his own life.
" "Angele's contentment was terribly shattered one evening when, at sundown, three Indians came to the fort. At the sight of them she uttered a terrible scream and fled into hiding. They said they had been wandering over the country and had come to the fort quite by chance and only sought a friendly shelter for the night, but the sight of their brown bodies and dark faces had shocked the girl's mind in such a way as to bring back the memory of everything that had happened to her and hers at the hands of these red men. Robert found her crouched in a corner weeping in terror. To him she told her story; how the little band of people, once happy families in the land of Acadia, roaming in search of a home, had been surprised by an attack of Indians; how before her very eyes every soul of them had been killed and she alone had been spared because the chief wanted her for his squaw! They had carried her away with them; for days they had travelled through strange forests, for hours at a time she was scarcely conscious. Then, attempting escape, she had received the blow from a tomahawk that had hurt her so cruelly. It was a terrible story. Robert listened to the end and then, taking her two hands and holding them close to his heart, told her solemnly that never would she be given again to the Indians! But he did not tell her of his vow, for suddenly he knew that life would be very, very happy if he could escape from the fort with her and go back to the Colonies!
" "The three Indians, before departing, had told of an entire tribe they had overtaken only a little way off, decked out as if for a great ceremony and led by a chieftain! Robert well knew who they were. If they were to escape it must be before the dawn of another day! That night--quietly, that Angele might not be frightened--the men talked together over the fire. Robert unfolded a plan. The others must start eastward immediately along the river trail. Then as soon as the moon had gone down, he and Angele would go in the bark canoe the men had built--paddle as far eastward as they could, then make for the shelter of the forests.
" "The others were eager to escape--for they knew now that the man Robert would never give up the girl, and they loved their own scalps! They hastily gathered together what they wanted to take with them and stole from the fort. During their idle days they had dug an underground passage from the fort to the river; through this they escaped quickly to the trail. Robert wakened Angele and told her of his plan. She said not a word, but by the fire in her eyes Robert knew what escape meant to her. Then, gently, he asked her if--when they had found safety in the Colonies-- she would go with him to a priest to be married, and for answer she turned and kissed him upon his hand.
" "While Robert loaded the canoe which he found at the river bank near the opening of the rough tunnel, Angele joyfully made her few preparations for the long journey. Before leaving the fort Robert gave to Angele a small knife, telling her that if they were captured she must use it quickly to end her own life! He then carefully barred every possible entrance, knowing that though the Indians could beat these down or fire the entire place, it would mean some delay in their pursuit and give them a little start toward safety.
" "Just as the moon disappeared and a heavy darkness enveloped them they pushed away from shore. But as they started down the river a horrible whoop split the air! Angele pressed her hands tight to her mouth to still her scream of terror. With a mighty stroke Robert paddled for midstream. But just as he did so an arrow shot past Angele and buried itself in the soft part of his leg! The three Indians who had come and gone in such friendly fashion were not of the far-off tribe they claimed to be, but had been sent on ahead by the chieftain to see how things were at the fort. They had gone back and told their story and the chieftain, expecting that some escape might be attempted, had planned to surprise the fort in the night.
"His flesh stinging with the wound of the arrow, Robert lifted his musket and fired quickly. Years before, in his own country, he had been honored by his King for his good marksmanship, but it was God who guided that aim through the darkness, for it shot straight into the very heart of the chieftain! While, in confusion, the Indians gathered about their fallen chief, Robert, with Angele fainting at his feet, was soon lost in the kindly darkness of the river--paddling eastward!
Oh, were they saved? cried Peggy, drawing a long breath.
Yes. Days afterward they reached a fort where they found a priest who married them. And they lived happy, useful lives in a settlement in Pennsylvania. Some records of the fort where the priest married them tell the whole story--they're right in the house, and Grandma nodded her head proudly toward the open door.
Didn't I tell you she was like a page out of history? Barbara asked Keineth as they drove homeward.
You just feel as if you were an American History book, beginning with the discovery of America, laughed Peggy.
If I was a history book I'd leave out dates and the Cabots--I never can get 'em straight, Billy chimed.
There must be lots and lots of stories about brave men that were never put in books, Keineth added thoughtfully.
Peggy yawned widely. "Well, I'm glad I'm not that poor captive maiden and just plain Peggy Lee of Overlook!"
And I'm gladder still that mother is sure to have ice cream for dinner!
This, of course, from Billy.
Anyone might think that this was Friday the thirteenth, growled Billy. "I broke my fishing rod and I've lost my knife and Jim Archer stepped on a nail and can't go on a hike this afternoon--"
Billy's curious talk never failed to interest Keineth. She knew that it was not Friday and it was not the thirteenth and wondered what Billy ever meant! But she never asked him; something in the scornful superiority with which Billy treated all girls made Keineth very shy with him. She wished they might be better friends, for she felt very sure that it would be great fun to share with him the exciting adventures Billy seemed always to find! Vaguely she wondered what she could do that might put her on an equal footing with this freckled-faced lad who was, after all, only two years older than she was!
Jim stepped on the nail yesterday--what's that got to do with to-day! Peggy answered teasingly, "Well, we were going to hike to-day," Billy explained, too doleful to indulge in retort. "And all the other fellows are doing something else."
Billy--Billy, called Alice from around the corner. "Just see what I found!" She ran toward them, holding in her hand a dirty, ragged piece of leather.
Where'd you find that? demanded Billy, taking it from her. "It's--why, jiminy crickets--it's one of my best shoes!"
Billy meant that it had been!
Pilot! the children cried, looking at one another.
That's what mother used to scold about Rex doing, Peggy recalled.
Why couldn't he eat my old ones! groaned Billy, throwing the leather off into some bushes. He felt troubled--he remembered that he had left the shoes out on the floor of his dressing room. It was all his fault, but Pilot would be blamed!
What can we do? asked Keineth, sensing a tragedy.
I don't care anything about the shoes, answered Billy, "'cause I'd just as soon wear these old ones as not--what d' I care about shoes? But mother'll say that we can't keep the dog!"
He's only on trial-- Peggy broke in sadly.
If you girls could keep it a secret we'd give Pilot another chance--
Alice is sure to tell! She can't keep anything!
I can keep a secret! You just try me!
Well, then, Billy lowered his voice mysteriously, "not a word! You just cross your hearts that you won't tell a word! We'll give Pilot another chance!"
Solemnly the three girls crossed their hearts. Billy went off then in search of some amusement of his liking, leaving them with the burden of the secret.
It weighed upon them through the day. And the more heavily when at noon time the cook from Clark's tapped upon the kitchen door and reported with great indignation that "jes' while her back was turned a minute that there dog had stolen her leg she was about to be carvin' and had gone off with it like he was possessed."
Your leg--well, now! cried Nora, all sympathy. "Faith--not my own leg, but a leg of lamb!" wept the other, "and what the mistress will be a sayin' I don't know!"
Where is that dog? Mrs. Lee had sternly asked of the children. No one knew. Keineth and Peggy exchanged troubled glances and then fixed frowning eyes upon Alice.
It really is very foolish in us to keep him, Mrs. Lee went on. "Probably this is just the beginning of the annoyances he will cause!"
He tramples down the flowers terribly, Barbara complained.
Mr. Lee caught the anxious look in Billy's eyes.
Well, well, Mother, perhaps Billy will keep a closer watch on his dog after this!
Billy promised with suspicious readiness. "Mr. Sawyer says Pilot's a valuable dog," he told them. "And we ought not to give a valuable dog away, anyway!"
We'll see, Mrs. Lee concluded.
But that evening Pilot sealed his own doom!
For, as the children were playing croquet near the veranda, he came running across the lawn and triumphantly dropped at Billy's feet a beautiful gold fish, quite dead!
Oh--oh--oh! screamed Alice.
It's from Sawyer's pond! cried Peggy on her knees.
The poor little thing. Keineth lifted it. "It's dead!"
It's their new Japanese gold fish, added Barbara, who, with Mrs. Lee, had come down the steps from the veranda. "You'll have to pay for this, Billy!"
I think this is the last straw, said Mrs. Lee sternly, turning to her husband.
Oh, Mammy, he couldn't help it--they swim round and he thinks they are playing! Peggy implored.
Pilot, standing back, his tail wagging slowly, regarded them with wondering, disappointed eyes. He had felt so very proud of his fish and now his family seemed to look upon him with displeasure.
And I can tell the secret now, cried Alice, "we weren't going to tell--he ate one of Billy's best shoes!"
You just wait! cried Billy. Peggy turned a terrible face upon Alice. "We'll never, never, never tell anything to the tell-baby again!" she hissed. "Will we, Ken?"
I guess I knew it first, Alice whimpered.
It was my fault--I left them out, Mother! And I'd just as soon wear my old shoes! Billy turned pleadingly to his mother.
I am sure you would, she smiled, "but nevertheless I must be firm about this dog. He is a nuisance and will be an expense. By the time we have paid the Clarks for their lamb and the Sawyers for their goldfish and bought you a pair of shoes the damages against Pilot will have run up to a nice little sum!"
But, Mother, you can take it out of my allowance!
That will not guard against other things of this same sort happening. No, my son, I do not like to make you unhappy, but we must get rid of the dog. Please say no more about it. Day after to-morrow we'll send him into the city with the vegetable man.
Mrs. Lee turned back to the veranda. When she spoke with that tone in her voice the children never answered. Peggy, linking her arm in Keineth's, turned an angry shoulder upon Alice. Billy blinked his eyes very fast to clear them of the tears that had gathered in spite of himself, threw his arm about the dog's neck and led him away to some hiding place where, secure from intrusion, he could pour out his rebellious heart to his pet.
There's no use staying angry at Alice! Keineth protested in a low tone to Peggy as they walked away. She felt sorry for the little girl standing at a little distance irresolutely swinging a croquet mallet. "It was her secret, anyway and Aunt Nellie would have found out about the shoe some time. Perhaps we were wrong not to tell her at first."
You always stand up for everybody, Peggy complained, dropping Keineth's arm in vexation. But Peggy's sunny nature could not long carry a grudge of any kind. She had made a solemn vow, too, that she would never be unkind to Alice again! And there would be just time before dark to play one more game of croquet!
Will you play, Allie? You can have red and play last, she cried. "Come on, Ken!"
What a horrid day! with a wide yawn Peggy threw the stocking she was darning into the basket. "I wish mother wouldn't make me wear stockings--then I wouldn't have any holes!"
I wish the sun would shine, Alice chimed, disconsolately.
If mother were here, she would say that we must make our own sunshine, Barbara laughed. She was folding carefully the white undergarment she had finished making for her college "trousseau"--as her father called it.
Well, it seems as if everything goes wrong all at once, Peggy refused to be cheered. The children knew she was thinking of Pilot. Pilot's disgrace and sentence hung like a gloomy cloud over their hearts.
Who'd believe you could think so much of a dog? Keineth frowned as she pondered the thought. "I used to think Aunt Josephine was so silly over Fido. I am sure Fido was never as nice as our Pilot, but I suppose Aunt Josephine thinks he's much nicer. Once he swallowed a paper of needles from Aunt Josephine's work basket and she almost fainted, and Celeste had to call a doctor for her and another for the dog and they sent the dog to a hospital. Then Aunt Josephine blamed Celeste and told her she must leave at once and Celeste had hysterics, for you see she'd been with my aunt since she was very young and they had to send for the doctor again for Celeste."
Oh, how funny! laughed Peggy, though Keineth's face was very serious.
Then Aunt Josephine felt sorry and forgave Celeste and they called up the next day from the hospital to say that Fido was very well and that needles seemed to agree with him. But Aunt Josephine worried for weeks and weeks over him.
Pilot would know better than to eat needles, Alice broke in scornfully.
Yes--he likes shoes and goldfish, Barbara finished. "Where's Billy?"
From the mother to the smallest of them they felt sorry for Billy. For, though Billy had said not a word concerning the fate of his pet, the hurt look in his eyes betrayed the sorrow he felt. No one knew where he was--he had disappeared quietly after breakfast. And Pilot was with him.
No tennis or golf to-day, grieved Barbara, going to the window.
Anyway we can swim, cried Peggy.
In the rain? asked Keineth, astonished.
Why, of course, silly! Wouldn't we get wet, anyway?
Keineth's face colored. Peggy went on with a toss of her head: "And I simply must practice swimming under water to-day--the contest isn't very far off. You can't expect me to help you out to the rock, Ken, you'll have to play in shallow water!"
Keineth's soul smarted under this humiliation. The rock was the goal around which their fun centred. It was twenty yards out from shore and its broad, flat surface gave room for six of them to stand upon it at one time. As around it the water was five feet deep, it was necessary for one of the children to help Keineth reach it. Then, while the others practiced all the feats known to the fish world, Keineth always stood carefully in its centre, head and shoulders above the water's surface and watched them with interest and admiration, tinged with envy.
To conceal the tremble in her voice Keineth had now to swallow very quickly. "All right, Peggy," was all she answered and Peggy never knew how deeply her careless words had hurt her.
Keineth had grown discouraged with her swimming. Somehow it was so easy when some one was with her, but she could never seem to muster the courage to dive off into the water the way the others did. And Daddy would be so disappointed!
Mrs. Lee had given her careful instruction in the stroke--perhaps if she was alone, away from Billy's roguish glance and the terror of his catching her ankle under water, she might feel more confidence.
This thought still lingered in her mind when, in the afternoon, they went to the beach. Billy was already in the water; the faithful Pilot was digging on the beach for dog treasures. Because of the drizzling rain Mrs. Lee had not come down.
While Barbara and Peggy were racing under water Keineth found it very easy to slip away. She chose a spot where a bend of the shore concealed her. She stood knee-deep in the water, going through the movements of the arm stroke, with a careful one, two, three. She put her small teeth tightly together--she would have confidence, she would go out deeper, throw herself calmly into the water in Peggy-fashion and swim off, one, two, three! She would remember to breathe easily and keep her arms under the surface of the water!
There was an indomitable will in the child. She did throw herself in, and, counting one, two, three, forgot her usual gasp of fright; suddenly it seemed natural and as if she had always done it! She felt a delicious joy in the ease with which her stroke carried her ahead through the water. She wished Billy might see her now! Then, exhausted by her effort, triumphant and happy, she reached for a footing on the bottom. Her toe could not find it! With a cry of terror she threw her arms wildly upward, involuntarily seeking for some hold! Then she slipped, slipped down, fathoms and fathoms it seemed--a dreadful choking gripped her, like tight arms upon her chest! She tried to call, but the water only made a fearful gurgle in her throat! She wanted her father--he'd stop that terrible pain in her chest and take that grip from her throat!
Suddenly she felt very, very tired and as if she would sleep when the pain was gone. Her body lifted slowly; her hand, flung upward, gripped something soft but firm in her clutch--the water splashed about her! She thought it was her father! He was pulling her away, then she seemed to go to sleep.
When consciousness returned, Keineth found herself lying upon the beach wrapped in Barbara's raincoat. Peggy was crying and Barbara, her face very white, was rubbing her hand. On her other side knelt Billy, the rain dripping from his bare arms, his face flushed as though from violent exercise. Behind him stood Pete, the man of all work in the community, who had been drawing gravel from the beach.
Darling! cried Barbara. "Oh, are you all right?"
Keineth slowly looked all around. Had it been some dream, then--wasn't her Daddy there at all? Barbara had slipped an arm under her head and was folding it higher. It helped her breathe.
What was it? Keineth managed to whisper. "I'd never, never, never have forgiven myself," Barbara was crying now.
You almost drowned, Peggy explained. Now that the danger was over she began to enjoy the excitement.
And Pilot saved you! Billy cried.
We had just missed you and Billy had started up the shore when we heard your cry!
And it didn't take that dog two seconds to get out to you! Just say he isn't human!
I thought it was Daddy, Keineth whispered.
What, dear? Barbara had not caught the words. "You must keep very quiet, Ken. And Billy's had his first aid case!"
Pete clapped Billy on the shoulder. "Wal, I jes' calculate now that it was them gim-cracks Billy here put you through, missy, that brung you to!"
I always wondered if I could do it, Billy said with pardonable pride, "and, say, that'll mean a medal from the troop!"
Alice had run home to tell Mrs. Lee of the accident. Together they had hurried down to the beach. With Pete's help they lifted Keineth to the gravel wagon and, like a triumphal procession, moved slowly homeward. Mrs. Lee immediately tucked Keineth into bed with hot water bottles and blankets to check the chill that was creeping over her.
She'll be all right, I am sure, Mrs. Lee whispered to the anxious children. Later the doctor came, left some powders and patted Keineth on the head. "A good sleep and quiet will fix up those nerves O. K. Then forget all about it."
He was quite right; the next morning Keineth, quite as well as ever, joined the family at breakfast. Though Mrs. Lee had warned them not to mention the accident to Keineth unnecessarily, Mr. Lee did pinch her cheek and say: "You lost your head, didn't you, little sport? If you'd just kept your arms down, now--but, if you go exploring strange beaches again you'll remember, won't you?"
Peggy and Keineth, moved by a feeling of intense relief, suddenly caught hands under the table. For into both hearts had come the fear that Keineth's mishap might end the swimming for the summer! And Keineth had not forgotten that, though it had ended sadly, for a very brief time she had mastered the stroke. Mrs. Lee smiled down the table. "And I think Pilot has won a home! Except for him--" she stopped suddenly, her eyes bright with tears. "William, bring home the finest collar you can find and to-night we will decorate our dog with all due honor!"
KEN--a letter!
Billy rushed toward the garden waving a large square envelope over his head.
Keineth and Peggy were weeding their flower bed. Keineth dropped her hoe quickly to seize the letter.
It's from Washington, and it's got a seal on it like the seal of the United States! exclaimed Billy.
Oh, let me see! cried Peggy.
Keineth had taken the letter. Looking from one to the other, she held it close to her.
I--I can't--it's from the President, I guess-- A wave of embarrassment seized her and she stopped short, wishing that she might run away with her treasure.
The President--writing to you! Oh, say-- Billy snorted in derision.
Peggy, offended at Keineth's shyness, turned her back upon her. "I don't want to see your letter, anyway," she said ungraciously.
Oh, please--I'd love to show it, only--I promised-- Then, as Peggy gave no sign of relenting, Keineth walked slowly toward the house with her letter.
I think Keineth's mean to have secrets, and Peggy dug her hoe savagely into the ground. "She acts so mysterious about her father and I'll bet it isn't anything at all!"
But that letter was from the President, I guess! Gee whiz, think of getting a letter really from him! I wish I was Ken!
It's nothing! Anyone can be President--I mean, any man!
Just the same, mother told me that some day we would be very proud of knowing Keineth's father. She wouldn't tell me any more. I'll bet it would be awful interesting to know him! There's something certainly queer about how no one knows where he is! I guess I'll ask Ken to tell me just a little bit. I can keep a secret.
Well, you can know her old secret for all I care, and Peggy started for the barn. Billy did not follow. He had thought of a plan. He would challenge Ken to a game of tennis. And he would let her beat him. Then he'd ask her very casually about her father and promise, on his scout's honor, not to tell a soul! The plan seemed good. He'd wait for her to come down.
In her room Keineth had opened the large white envelope. From inside she drew a sheet of paper upon which were written a few lines, and with it a blue envelope of very thin paper, addressed in her father's familiar handwriting. With a little cry she caught it up and kissed it again and again. Before she broke its seal she read what was written on the sheet which had enclosed it.
The few lines were signed "Faithfully, Woodrow Wilson." They began, "My dear little soldier girl," and they told her that it was with great pleasure he had forwarded her letter to her father and now returned to her its answer. He called it an honor to serve them both and expressed the hope that some day he might make her acquaintance and tell her how deeply he admired and respected her father.
Keineth merely glanced at the lines. What mattered it to her that they had been written by the President of the United States! Did she not hold tightly in her fingers a letter from her Daddy?
My precious child, it began. Keineth had suddenly to brush her eyes in order to see the letters. "Your letter found me at one of my many stopping places. It brought to me a breath of home. I shut myself in my room and read and reread it, and it seemed to bring back the old room and the chair that could always hold us both. I could hear your voice, too. I miss you terribly, little girl, but I thank God daily that you are well and happy and with good friends.
"I have travelled through many lands of which I will have much to tell you. I have been in the Far East--poor Tante would have wept with joy over the beauty of the Flowery Kingdom. I have bowed before enough emperors and kings to make my poor back ache. Do you remember how you used to rub the kinks out of it? I have spent hours and hours with the great men of the world. I have seen wonderful beauty and glorious sunshine. (How I'd like to ship some of it to old New York.) And I have seen ugly things, too. We shall have great times when we are together again, childy, telling one another the stories of these days we have been parted. You shall tell me something first and then I will tell you. It will take us hours and days and weeks. Now I am going in my wanderings to other lands that are black with the horror of war. I shall have to witness the suffering it brings to the homes and I will be more glad than I can tell that my baby is far from its pain.
" "I have learned in these wanderings of mine that it is in the children this old world must place its trust. That if they want a better government they must give to the little ones all that is pure and clean and honest and good and see to it that they are happy. I feel like shouting it from the housetops--'Make them happy!' It doesn't take much. I feel your big, wondering eyes on mine--you do not understand! Ah, well, girlie, all I mean is--romp and play--build up a strong little body for that heart of yours--see things that are clean and good, and whatever the game is--play square!
" "We cannot be grateful enough to the dear Lees for all they are doing for us. Try and return their kindness with loyalty. I will write later to Mrs. Lee in regard to the plans for the fall. Do whatever she thinks best. You will stay with them until I return. Just when that will be I cannot tell now, but you must be brave. Your courage helps me, too, my dear. Sometimes, when my day's work is done and I can put it from my mind, I close my eyes and dream--dream of the little home we will build when I return: build--not in the old Square, that is gone except to memory--but in some sunny, open spot where we can live and work together and lead useful lives. It is a beautiful castle as I see it in my dreams--and beautiful with love.
" "I will send this letter with other papers to Washington and they will forward it to you. Good-by, little soldier--I salute you, my General.
" "God keep you for DADDY.""
"The words rang through Keineth's heart like a song. She longed to pour out her joy in music, but Billy's voice came to her from below.
Ken, Ken.
Yes, Billy. "Come on, I'll play tennis with you! Bet you can beat me, too!"
Keineth suddenly remembered Peggy's and Billy's rudeness. Perhaps Billy was trying to make amends. She really wanted to be alone with her letter a little longer, but if Billy wanted her to play! She felt proud, too, that he had asked her.
Billy found less difficulty than he had anticipated in letting Keineth win the set. In fact, deep in his heart, he was not sure he had "let" her. For Keineth, fired with the joy within her, played brilliantly, flying over the court like a winged creature, returning Billy's serves with a surprising quickness and strength that completely broke down his boyish confidence in himself.
Thanks awfully--that was fun, Keineth said as they sank down under a tree for a moment's rest.
Though his plan had worked very well so far, Billy now felt at a loss to know how he ought to proceed. So, accepting her thanks with a brief nod, he bolted straight to the point.
Say, Ken, if you'll tell me about your father I promise on my scout's honor not to tell a soul! And you ought to tell me anyway, for didn't my dog save your life, and didn't I give you first aid or you might've died!
Oh, Billy! Keineth cried, then stopped short. Her heart warmed to Billy--they seemed almost like pals now! He had preferred playing tennis with her than going off somewhere with the boys. And she did want more than anything else right then to talk about her daddy; to tell how great he was and how he was visiting courts of Eastern lands. And she wanted to show Billy the letter from the President, it was in her pocket. And she knew if Billy said he'd never tell that he would not.
But a soldier never swerves from duty and had not her father called her his "General"?
I--I can't, Billy, she finished.
There was something so final in her voice and in the set of her lips that Billy, red with rage, rose quickly to his feet.
I'll bet you haven't got any secret and you're just making up to be smart and I'll get even with you, baby! And you didn't beat me playing tennis, for I let you, anyway! You wait-- and, vengefully, Billy strode away, leaving an unhappy little girl sitting alone under the tree. Peggy met Billy on the road. Peggy was in search of Keineth. Her nature was too happy to long nurse a grievance. She didn't care if Keineth did have a secret! And she had wonderful news, too!
But Billy's morose bearing stirred her curiosity.
Did she tell you, Billy? she asked.
I'll bet she hasn't got any secret that's worth knowing! And she needn't say she beat me at tennis, either.
Oh, Billy Lee, you let her beat so's she'd tell you! I'm just glad she didn't! I guess girls never tell anything they've promised not to--even if they are girls!
In great scorn she ran from the disconsolate Billy. She had spied Keineth alone under the tree.
Ken--Ken! Great news! Peggy rushed toward her. "We are going camping with Ricky--you and me--next week! Hurray!"
Keineth learned that Ricky was Peggy's gymnasium teacher. Her real name was Fredericka Grimball, but to "her girls" she was always known as Ricky. The camp was among the hills ten miles from Fairview. And during the vacation months Ricky took her girls there in groups of twenty. With their play she gave them instruction in scoutcraft.
We go for tramps into the woods and she tells us stories of the birds and trees. I never knew until she told me that there are male and female trees, and flowers and all the things that grow; did you know it, Ken? And we found a weasel, last summer--it was almost tame. We're going to learn signalling, too; perhaps this winter Ricky will let us form a troop and join the Girl Scouts.
Keineth, with wide-open eyes, was trying to follow Peggy's incoherent description of the camp life they were to begin on the morrow. Back in her mind was a tiny doubt as to whether she would enjoy twenty girls--all strangers! But she would fight this shyness and do whatever Peggy did.
We sleep right out of doors when it is clear. The woods smell so good and there are all sorts of funny sounds as if all the bugs and things were having parties.
Oh-h, I wonder if I'll like it! and Keineth shivered with pleasurable dread.
We paddle in canoes on a little lake that's like a mill-pond. It's awfully shallow and the water is so clear you can see right through it, and we ride horseback, too! I'm a patrol leader, Peggy finished with pride. She folded the last middy blouse neatly into a wicker suitcase. Their luggage consisted of bloomers, blouses, bathing-suits and blankets.
Easy to remember--all B's, Mrs. Lee had laughed.
Mr. Lee drove them to the camp. "Come back with some muscle in these arms of yours and a few more freckles on your nose," he said to Keineth, pinching her cheek affectionately.
Camp Wachita--the girls had nicknamed it Camp Wish-no-more--was nestled in the hills with the tiny lake at its front door and a dense woodland at its back. Sleeping tents were built in a semicircle about the central building, in which were the living-rooms. On a grassy level stretch close to the water was the out-of-door gymnasium and beyond that the boathouse and dock to which several gaily-painted canoes were fastened.
The family at Camp Wachita consisted of Martha Washington Jones, the colored cook; Bonsey, her twelve-year-old son, who very occasionally made himself useful about the camp; Captain O'Leary, a Spanish War Veteran by title and by occupation caretaker of the horses and boats; Miky, the little Irish terrier, and Jim Crow, who had been brought, the summer before, to the camp hospital from the woodland to receive first aid for a broken wing, and had refused to leave the family.
Keineth had little difficulty in making friends with the other girls. There seemed to be among them such a jolly spirit of comradeship that she found it very easy to call them Jessie and Nellie and Kate, and never once wondered at their quickly adopting Peggy's familiar "Ken." She thought that Peggy must have known them all very well and was surprised when Peggy told her that there were only three of her friends among them.
But we're all Ricky's girls, you see, she explained, as though that was all that was necessary to create a firm bond of loyalty and friendship among them.
Ricky, this captain of girls, was a tall, straight, broad-shouldered woman of twenty-five. The sunniness of her smile, the firmness of her jaw and the all-understanding warmth of her dark eyes told of the character which made her a leader of others and a spirit beloved among them all.
Each new day of the camp life brought to Keineth some new experience, thrilling in its strangeness to the little girl. She had learned to love going to sleep with the great, star-lit vault of the sky enveloping her; the singing of the "bugs," as Peggy had put it, was fairy music to her ears; she had conquered her first terror of the shell-like canoes and now could paddle with confidence, even venturing alone upon the shallow water. And to her own surprise she was enjoying the companionship of the other girls!
Among them was one named Stella Maybeck. Stella was not an attractive girl--she was too tall and too thin, her voice was loud and her manners a little careless. She had big, dark eyes with a hungry look in their depths. She adored Ricky and showed a preference for Keineth's company. At first Keineth felt a little repelled by the girl's rough ways, but gradually she grew to feel that beneath them was a warm, kind heart and that it was, perhaps, shyness that often made Stella's manner disagreeable.
They walked together on the tramps into the woods and Keineth enjoyed the fund of knowledge the other girl seemed to have concerning all the little woodland creatures and their ways.
I don't see why you like to be with Stella Maybeck, Peggy had said to her one day. "I think she is horrid!" she finished unkindly.
Why, Peggy! Keineth frowned. It was very unfair in Peggy to speak in this way concerning one of the other girls. Keineth did not suspect that perhaps a little jealousy prompted Peggy's ungraciousness.
This little cloud was to grow over the whole camp. And in the second week Ricky's girls learned a lesson of greater value to them than all the scoutcraft they loved.
Twice a week the vegetable man came to the camp with fruit and vegetables. These the girls placed in the storehouse, one of them carefully checking off the purchases as they did so. One morning some oranges were reported missing. Ricky paid little attention to the incident. The next day one of the girls came to her and announced that a ring had been taken from her sleeping tent. Although disturbed, Miss Grimball gently rebuked the girl for having disobeyed the camp rules in bringing jewelry to it and sent her away, bidding her speak to no one of her loss.
Then Miss Grimballs silver purse containing ten dollars in bills was taken from her desk!
Like a flash the story spread through the camp. The girls gathered in an excited group. Keineth and Stella, with arms locked, stood together. From the other side of the group Peggy saw them. The jealousy that had been slumbering within her heart suddenly gripped her.
Well, I think I could guess who did it, all right, and I just think it's a shame for anyone like that to I dare to come to Ricky's camp! It was not necessary to do more than fix her gaze indignantly upon Stella Maybeck. With a little gasp Stella turned and ran into her tent. The others pressed closer to Peggy.
Oh, do you think so? they whispered in awed voices.
Peggy! cried Keineth, imploringly.
I'm not going to say another word, Peggy answered, perhaps a little frightened at what she had done.
The girls waited breathlessly for Miss Grimball to take some action in the matter. Each felt that the disgrace must be wiped from the happy camp life.
At noon Ricky's whistle sounded. The girls assembled on the gymnasium ground. Their captain stood before them, dear-eyed, smiling at them all with her usual confidence. Stella, with Keineth, had joined the others and stood in the background.
I think you all know what has happened. I am disturbed, but I will not suspect one of my girls. All I want to say is this--so great is my trust in your loyalty, in your honor, and in your sense of what is square--if one of you, through an unfortunate yielding to temptation, has taken these things that have been lost, they will be returned, because you are girls of honor. So I am not worrying. Now, please do not talk of the matter among yourselves.
The routine of the day went on. The girls avoided Stella; only Keineth kept close to her side. Keineth longed to pour out to Stella her confidence in her innocence and her indignation at Peggy, but a certain pride in Stella's manner forbade it; she could not find the right words, so she simply occasionally squeezed Stella's hand!
In this way two unhappy days passed. Then on the third morning Peggy, crossing the path leading to the kitchen, saw Jim Crow scurrying toward the wood with a spoon in his mouth! On tip-toe she followed him. Turning off from the trail near the edge of the woodland, he stood for a moment as though listening, then dropped his treasure into the hollow trunk of a dead tree!
And there Peggy, following the rascal, found the oranges, the ring, and Ricky's silver purse!
In that moment when Peggy stood alone among the trees, the stolen things in her hands, she learned a lesson that she could never forget! She walked slowly back to Miss Grimball's office and told her the story of Jim and of her own unjust accusation of Stella.
We should have suspected Jim, the villain, Ricky laughed. "Another chapter in scoutcraft, Peggy. Will you go, my dear, and tell Stella?" Then she gently put her hand upon Peggy's head, "Judge not, my dear," and, leaning, she kissed her.
Peggy rushed off in search of Stella. She found her sitting on the dock, a picture of misery, Keineth by her side.
Stella, I was a wicked, wicked girl! It was Jim Crow stole the things, and I found them in an old tree and I wouldn't blame you if you never forgave me! I think the reason I was so horrid was because I was just jealous that Ken loved you more than she did me-- For lack of breath Peggy stopped, her soul clean from her confession.
A great joy came into Stella's dark eyes. She held out her hand and Peggy caught it in a tight grip.
Now I'm going to call all the girls together and tell them the whole story and that I'm just terribly ashamed. She ran from them, her hands to her mouth, loudly giving the call of the camp. There was great rejoicing at Camp-Wish-no more. The cloud of suspicion had lifted. The girls could not be nice enough to Stella, and for the first time she seemed to lose her shyness and awkwardness among them. Then Ricky decided that, in order to entirely forget the whole thing, they would go on an all-night hike to the old mill on Cobble Hill.
Hooray--hooray! went up from eager throats.
Three cheers for Stella!
Three cheers for Peggy! they cried again.
Down with Jim Crow!
That night, under the stars, Keineth snuggled close to Peggy. She had asked to be Peggy's blanket mate.
You're all right, Peg, she whispered, Billy-fashion, "and I do love you most of all!"
Sport's Week had begun at the Shore Club. The excitement of it gripped the Lee family. Each talked of the game in which he or she was most interested and no one listened to the other. Barbara, with an absorbed air, mentally played the shots she would make when on Friday she would meet in the final round of match play for the championship title her old foe, Carol Day. Peggy had no thought for anything but the swimming contest. Mr. Lee was chairman of the committee on arrangements and spent most of his time at the telephone. Mrs. Lee did her part in the decorating of the club-house and went about with her arms full of gay bunting and her mouth full of pins.
And Keineth shared the excitement! For she had qualified in the children's tennis tournament and would play in the doubles and had drawn Billy for her partner!
It was her first real contest! Secretly she shivered with fright but outwardly tried to appear calm like Peggy. All the day before the tennis matches began she went about with her racquet in her hand as though to accustom her trembling fingers to its hold.
Though Billy, since the day he had tried to make Keineth confide in him the story of her father's absence, had maintained toward her a scornful indifference, he had accepted her as a partner because there was no alternative. But he managed to convey to her that he considered it an unfair indignity that he should be so handicapped. And he talked entirely of the paddling races.
However, Keineth could not be discouraged. In her mind was one thought only--they must win! For, each day, in her room she was writing a careful account of all that happened to send to her Daddy, and failure could have no part in the story.
And in the very first match they defeated Molly Sawyer and Joe Gary!
Margaret Dale, playing with Charlie Myers had, after a hard game, beaten Grace Schuyler and Merton Day. Then Keineth and Billy played against them. It was a close match; the courts were circled by an interested crowd of onlookers. Though Billy had had to play with all his skill to meet Charlie Myers' strength of volley, he knew that Keineth had more than done her part, too.
She played way over her head, he answered sullenly to the praise his family bestowed upon her.
One more set put them in the final match against Jim Downer and his sister Helen. A taste of victory had given to Keineth a poise that steadied her in her game; this matching of strength, skill and quickness--something she had never known before--had developed a surprising confidence in herself. Her joy was not in the defeat of their opponents, rather in her own mastery of all those things which for so long she had been trying to learn!
Good luck to you, kiddies, Mr. Lee had said to them at the breakfast table. "Play your best and then you won't mind if you are defeated. And if the other fellows play better, don't think up any excuses--it's something to be good losers!"
In the brief moment of waiting before the final match began, Keineth, standing quietly near the courts, thought how different she was from the funny little girl who had come to Overlook two months before. She knew now what her father had meant when he had told her that that old life, with him and Tante in the old house, had cheated her out of the other things children had. He had been right He would be pleased, now, to know the part she was taking with the others.
The judges called the match; Keineth caught her breath and ran on to the court. She gave one whispered word to Billy.
We've got to win!
Billy had not enjoyed Keineth's sudden rise into fame. He felt less tolerant and the old grudge flamed into being. If they won now--and everyone said they would--they'd all think it was Keineth that had won it. They'd make an awful fuss over her--they always did over girls--and there'd be no living with either her or Peggy. He could throw the game, just fall down on one or two returns and no one would know the difference! He felt very sure of winning the paddling races and what did he care about the tennis match, anyway?--it'd be different if they were the real matches, but they were just for children. These thoughts ran through his mind as he swung his racquet backward and forward in the air, a heavy scowl wrinkling his face.
And Keineth's confident "We've got to win" had been the last drop in his cup of annoyance.
The first two games were slow, a little volleying and a good many "outs." Someone called from the gallery, "Warm up!" Keineth threw her head back with an answering smile, for she recognized Mr. Lee's voice.
Their opponents won the third game against a thirty. That spurred Keineth; the fourth game was faster with some hot volleying and pretty returns and won by Keineth and Billy in a quickly mounting score. Excited, Keineth did not notice that Billy had not returned one or two balls with his usual skill.
The next, a deuce game, was hotly contested. Her face ablaze with interest, Keineth held her little body tensely poised on one toe, ready for instant action. The faces of the crowd around her blurred into nothing--there seemed only left in her small world those two beyond the net!
The next game was bewildering. Keineth played desperately, but they had only won thirty points when the others made the game! The set stood four to two in Keineth's favor, but their opponents were playing stronger with each game.
In the seventh game Billy dropped off shamelessly. He was never quite ready. Before Keineth realized the situation the others had won and won easily!
Billy! Keineth whispered imploringly. The indifferent look on Billy's face struck terror to her heart. What was the matter with him?
The next game Keineth won alone--if Billy could not play she'd play for him! Her little teeth, clenched tight together, gleamed white through her parted lips. The crimson of her cheeks mounted into her fair hair.
What a picture! Mrs. Lee whispered to her husband. She was not thinking of the game at all. "What a spirit! Think, William, what that can mean in this world when the child's grown up!"
That's just why this sort of sport is good for them, Mr. Lee whispered back. "But what is the matter with Billy?"
That is what Keineth wondered, too. They had won five games--they must win the next and set! Walking close to Billy she confronted him, her face ablaze. For just a moment they looked hard into one another's eyes; not a boy and girl, the one proudly conscious of his boyhood and two years' difference in age, the other a very young and all-admiring girl--but just two mortals contesting together against two others.
And at last they, Keineth and Billy, met on equal ground--Keineth had proven her mettle--let Billy show his! Keineth's clear, straightforward gaze made Billy drop his eyes in sudden shame.
Play square, she said sternly. And Billy played square! Their opponents had not a chance!
Well, Billy did wake up, some one said and some one else added: "If they'd lost it would have been his fault. That Randolph girl played a corking game for her age!"
They had won the tennis tournament! Keineth did not enjoy half so much the silver cup they placed in her hands as she did Peggy's delight and Mr. Lee's hearty handclasp of congratulation. The young people carried them off to luncheon at the club-house, where they made merry far into the afternoon.
That evening Billy, with a very serious face, approached his father, where he sat alone on the veranda.
Dad, I've withdrawn my name from the paddle races!
What's wrong, son?
I'm not a good sport--that's why, Billy answered with his usual frankness. "I had a sort of grudge against Keineth because she wouldn't tell me about her father and I'd vowed to get even and I just laid down on that tennis game--until she made me ashamed!"
But she did make you ashamed, Billy?
Yes--she told me to play square and I just thought then that no one would ever have to tell me to play square more than once!
Mr. Lee laid his arm across the boy's shoulder.
Laddie--these games we play teach us a lot, don't they? There is something in them more than fun and more than the health they give! You've learned a motto to-day that you can pin on your shield when you go out to meet the other matches life offers!
You can just bet I'll always try to play square! And I'm going now to find Ken and tell her she's a brick!
Mr. Lee watched the boy disappear. Though a smile hovered about his lips, his eyes were serious--the cigar between his fingers had quite gone out.
May he keep that spirit all through life, he was thinking.
Keineth, a little tired after the strain of the tennis match, thought it much more fun to watch the others. Billy had gone into the paddling races, and no one but Mr. Lee and Keineth knew that it was because Keineth had begged him--and he had won and Keineth had been the first to examine the wrist watch he had received as an award. And on Friday the entire family waited eagerly near the eighteenth green of the golf course for Barbara and Carol Day to play up in the final game for the golf championship!
Keineth and Peggy held hands tightly in their excitement.
Oh, I can tell by Barb's walk she's ahead, Peggy cried as the two players, their caddies and a small gallery, appeared around the corner of the wood that screened the seventeenth green.
She was two down at the turn and Carol was playing par golf, someone volunteered. "What does down at the turn mean?" whispered Keineth.
The turn's at the end of the ninth hole and a-l-a-s, down means Barb was behind. Pooh, she always plays better when she's down!
A man had just returned from the fifteenth tee.
They were dormie at the sixteenth, the girls heard him say.
What queer words they do use in golf! I thought dormie was a window!
Oh, Ken, giggled Peggy, "you mean dormer and it's dormie when one player is just as many holes ahead as there are more holes to play. Good gracious!" her face fell, "that means that Barbara will have to win these three holes and she always slices on the eighteenth!"
She won't this time, Peggy! That girl's like steel in a match! a man nearby broke in.
She's driving first! Billy cried. "Oh, look--look--look! P-e-ach-y!"
Breathlessly they watched the two players advance toward the green. Barbara had outdriven her opponent but she topped her second. Carol Day, playing a brassie, put her ball well up. Barbara recovered on her third shot, carried the bunker which guarded the green twenty yards from it, and laid her ball on the edge of the green. Carol's third caught the top of the bunker, shot into the air and dropped back into the sand pit!
Oh-h! breathed Peggy delightedly into Keineth's ear. She knew it was the worst bunker on the course.
But difficulties only made Carol Day play the better. She studied the shot for several moments while Barbara and the gallery watched with tense interest. Then they saw her lift her niblick slowly, her head bent; a cloud of sand raised, the ball cleared the bunker's top, dropped upon the green, rolled a few feet and rested within an easy putt of the cup!
The gallery applauded. It was a splendid shot, one of the kind that ought to win a match for its player. Even Keineth cried out in generous praise of the play.
Peggy gripped Keineth's hand so hard that it hurt.
Steady, steady, there, Barb, Mr. Lee muttered. Barbara walked slowly to her ball. Her eyes were lowered, she did not glance at the familiar faces about the green. Her next shot demanded the utmost skill, care and steadiness she could command. Of them all she was the coolest. She must run down her putt to win the match!
Peggy suddenly shut her eyes that she could not see what happened. The others saw Barbara, with an easy movement, line her putt. The ball rolled slowly over the clipped turf, dead straight to the hole--closer, closer, hung for one fraction of a second on the rim of the cup and then with a thud that was like music, dropped in! Barbara was the champion of the women players of the club!
Why, it almost made me sick. Peggy confided to Keineth afterwards. "I will be a wreck when this week is over! And oh, if I can only win the life-saving medal to-morrow! Think of it, four prizes in the Lee family! There will be no living with us. I don't care a straw for the cups they give--it's that little bit of a bronze medal I want There's going to be a man here from Washington to give it to the winner--one of the Volunteer Life-saving Association. And that medal's got to go right here," and defiantly she struck her hand against her breast.
I just can't wait, Keineth sighed in a tragic manner.
The last day is most fun of all, Peggy explained.
How can we ever settle down into calm living?
Huh--fast enough! I've got to begin reviewing English. I have a condition to make up.
And I want to work on my music, cried Keineth, suddenly conscience-smitten.
Mother says that to-morrow night we'll wind up with a supper on the beach. It's lots jollier than the dinner dance at the Club and we're too young to go to that, anyway. Barb could go if she wanted to, but she'd rather have the fun at the beach. We fry bacon and roast corn and mother makes cocoa and then we sing. Oh, dear, won't it be awful to grow old and not do those things?
Together they sighed mightily at such a prospect!
For the last day of the Sports Week there was a program of fun that began immediately after breakfast and lasted through the day. All the club members gathered on the beach where gaily-decorated booths had been built. From these lemonade and sandwiches were served continuously. The motor boats, canoes and skiffs, their flags flying, made bright splashes of color against the green water. Stakes, topped with flags, marked the course for the swimming races. The judges were taken out on one of the larger motor boats.
Keineth had never seen anything quite like it. To her it seemed like a chapter from some story and a story strange and exciting!
The committee had arranged games and races for the very little youngsters so that during the morning the beach front was astir with them--bright-eyed, bobbed-haired, starched little girls and tanned, bare-legged boys, trying vainly to elude the watchful care of the mothers and nurse-girls, who made a background for the pretty scene.
The life-saving contest followed the swimming races. Four others besides Peggy had entered: Molly Sawyer, Helen Downer, Mary Freeman and Gladys Day.
Keineth had never watched a contest of this sort before. She cried out in alarm when she saw a man, fully dressed, at a signal totter off the deck of the judges' motor boat. Someone next to her laughed.
That's just pretend--he's an expert swimmer! It's Mary Freeman's turn! Watch her!
Keineth saw Mary detach herself from a small group, rush into the water tearing off her blouse as she did so. Then something went wrong--Mary seemed to make no headway toward the man, the judges blew a whistle, the man who had jumped overboard climbed back into the boat; there was some laughter which others quickly frowned down.
Peggy had drawn last place in the contest. When Keineth saw the others fail, one after another, she glanced at Peggy with nervous anxiety. But Peggy stood, outwardly calm, the picture of confidence, her eyes fastened upon the judges' boat, waiting for her signal.
Another man fell overboard; to Keineth he looked like a giant! She saw Peggy spring forward--in a flash her blouse was off and she had thrown it backward over her head. She was swimming and Keineth knew that as she swam she was unbuttoning and kicking off her shoes and her skirt. An encouraging shout went up as she moved rapidly forward, her head under water, first one straight, strong arm, then the other, shooting out and ahead!
Off at a little distance the judges' boat was chugging. From the beach the spectators, breathless, could see a struggle in the water. Then, where for a moment there had been nothing visible, they saw Peggy's head; saw her making for shore swimming on her back with strong leg strokes, one arm encircling the man's head, her grip holding his chin and nostrils out of water and pinioning his arms so that his struggles could not drag her down.
A shout went up from the beach front--louder and louder; the motor boats blew their sirens. Keineth ran to the water's edge that she might be the first to greet the proud young swimmer.
Willing hands helped Peggy pull the rescued man upon the sand where, the water dripping from her shoulders, Peggy gave "first aid." After several moments, marked by a big, sunburned man whom Keineth learned afterwards was the man from Washington, the victim was pronounced saved, rose to his feet and was the first to shake Peggy's hand!
Why, it was so real that it seemed awful funny to see him just get up like that, Keineth giggled afterwards, when she had a moment alone with her Peggy.
Well--it wasn't any easy thing to bring him in! Why, he struggled just as much as though he was really drowning! But, oh, Ken--Ken, I've won my medal!
Later the children went back to the house to prepare the picnic. They trooped up the rood, an excited group; Keineth and Peggy in advance.
As they came nearer to Overlook a strange sight met their eyes. They stopped short.
For there on the gravel drive, its high-powered engine snorting and puffing, a rigid, uniformed figure at the wheel, stood Aunt Josephine's bright yellow car!
It's Aunt Josephine! cried Keineth.
Oh, dear, she'll spoil the fun!
Keineth wished the ground would open wide and swallow her up, so deep was her dismay. Never in her life had she so hated that yellow monster and Kingston's rigid back! And yes, the black-robed figure in the back was Celeste!
Oh, dear, echoed Alice.
Maybe she has some word from father. The thought lent wings to Keineth's feet--she flew over the ground, Peggy following closely, a most curious sight for Aunt Josephine's eyes, with her wet bathing-suit and her blue and white bathrobe flying out behind!
No, Aunt Josephine had no news of Keineth's father! She was on a motor trip and had stopped at Fairview. She was quite the same Aunt Josephine, beautifully gowned in a linen dress whose trimmings matched the stylish little hat she wore on her head. She rose from the wicker chair on the veranda, where she sat with Mrs. Lee, to greet the children. Keineth felt her critical glance wander from her to the others even while she was answering her aunt's questions.
Mrs. Lee read the consternation behind the children's polite greetings, for in her sweet voice she broke in:
I have been asking Mrs. Winthrop to join us to-night in our beach frolic--you girlies must urge her!
Oh, please do! they cried together.
Aunt Josephine did not seem to hear them. She was looking very hard at Keineth. "She does look well," she admitted; "I suppose the quiet life here has been good for her." She spoke directly to Keineth and the child felt in her tone the mild disapproval she knew so well. "I am on my way through to the Yellowstone, child. I thought, perhaps, I might pick you up and take you along, but you are so freckled that you are a sight!" Then, as though she recalled the beach supper and the children's invitation, she added, apologetically, "It is very kind, but I am a little out of the habit of such things!"
Hateful thing--how can she be Ken's aunt! Peggy was thinking resentfully, for she had seen a hurt look creep into Keineth's eyes.
Mrs. Lee's face wore its most cordial smile. She laid her hand upon Aunt Josephine's arm.
That's just why I like to go to picnics and things--it is easy to get out of the habit of fun! Do send your man away and join us! It will be a great treat to know our Keineth's aunt a little better.
Now what neither Keineth nor Peggy, nor even Mrs. Lee could guess was that beneath the folds of expensive linen and lace and dainty pleatings of rose silk was a heart that was just hungry because--years and years before--it had forgotten "how to have fun!" The happy faces of the children, freckled though they were, the simplicity of the pretty home, the flowers blooming so riotously and gaily all about, the light that lay deep in Mrs. Lee's eyes roused a longing very strange to Aunt Josephine! Perhaps if she had had youngsters of her own she might never have been the kind of an Aunt Josephine she was--tyrannized over by a Fido and a Celeste and a Kingston!
I will come, Aunt Josephine decided so suddenly that they were startled. "Keineth, dear, please tell Celeste to come to me."
Celeste was instructed to unpack a warm coat and to bring a robe. Then she and Kingston were told that they might drive back to town, to return later for Mrs. Winthrop.
Mrs. Lee carried Aunt Josephine off to the tiny guest room while the children flew toward the pantry to make ready the picnic baskets.
Vaguely Keineth felt worried, as though, in some way or other, she was to blame for this unwelcome addition to the party. But Peggy, joining them in middy blouse and bloomers, reassured her in an excited whisper.
It'll be such fun just to see how she'll act! Oh, I do wish that funny maid and that awful leather-man were going, too! Do you suppose she can ever eat a bacon sandwich without a fork?
But Aunt Josephine did eat one without a fork and then ate another. She sat on a rock, her pretty linen all crumpled and mussed, a great deal of sand in her shoes, and balanced a paper plate on her lap and laughed, a rippling jolly laugh that Keineth had never heard before. She made Keineth and Peggy sit one on each side of her and tell her of all they had done during the summer.
When the last marshmallow had been toasted and the pans scoured and put away in the baskets, the picnickers gathered about the dying bonfires for a "sing-song." This always included all the songs they loved best, the songs Mr. and Mrs. Lee had known in their youth and the songs of the present day. And Aunt Josephine's rich contralto rang above the others.
Why, I haven't sung like this since I can remember, she laughed. The children were just finishing, "There's a long, long trail a-winding, into the land o' my dreams!"
In the dim light Keineth was studying her aunt's face. Perhaps she had often been unkind in her thoughts; she might have known that Aunt Josephine must be very, very nice or she couldn't have been her father's sister! She slipped her hand into her aunt's and felt a warm pressure return her clasp.
When Mrs. Lee began "This is the End of a Perfect Day" the children knew that the fun was over. They were glad to go home, for it had been a strenuous and exciting week.
When the good-nights were said Aunt Josephine drew Keineth toward her.
May I keep her up a little longer--I would like to have a little talk.
A dread seized Keineth's heart, for she recalled her aunt's words concerning the Yellowstone. She might have to go with Aunt Josephine and Celeste and Kingston, after all.
Aunt Josephine sat down by the lamp, very straight, the way she always sat when she had something important on her mind. Mrs. Lee sank back among the pillows on the divan and Mr. Lee pulled his chair closer to the window and lighted his pipe.
I cannot tell you, Aunt Josephine began, "how glad I am to have become acquainted with you all. I feel better about Keineth."
A silence followed this. Very troubled, Keineth glanced at Mrs. Lee, to find her smiling.
You know I did not approve of the way my brother just turned her over to almost strangers. It seemed as if she ought to be with me. I would have sent her to a camp in Maine--a very fine camp for girls--and then, perhaps had her with me at the seashore.
Aunt Josephine paused as though waiting for Mrs. Lee to say something. And Mrs. Lee said quietly:
I think she has been happy here.
I came this way intending to steal her for this Yellowstone trip, though perhaps she'd better not go. Keineth put her hand to her face involuntarily as though to cover the shameless freckles. "But I feel that I ought to talk over with you--well, the plans for her school in the fall." Keineth swept a frightened glance toward Mrs. Lee. Aunt Josephine went on in the voice she always used when doing her duty: "Miss Edgecombe has a very select school for girls a few blocks from me in New York. I know Miss Edgecombe well and she is holding a place open for Keineth. I feel she is a very suitable person to train a child. You know," with a tone of apology, "my brother had no sense at all in bringing up the girl! He left everything to that queer old governess." Mrs. Lee suddenly sat up very straight on the divan,
When Keineth came to us she had to learn to be like other children. Yes, she had been shut up too much with that very good governess; her little brain had grown faster than her body. It's her body's turn now, the brain can wait. Mr. Randolph said that he wished her to remain with us until he returned. Keineth and I have a plan of our own for the fall, to play and work on our music. She smiled at Keineth.
Aunt Josephine hesitated as though she could not find the right words to express what she felt. "I thought it was my duty to speak to Miss Edgecombe," she said stiffly; "she is my brother's child and will probably, some day, inherit what I have. I should like to have her with me, but," there was a wistful ring in her voice, "I suppose she is better off with you."
The things Miss Edgecombe can teach her can wait, perhaps, Aunt Nellie answered, smiling down at Keineth. "Keineth is happy in our simple life--"
Simple life--that's just it! Aunt Josephine spoke rapidly, as though Mrs. Lee had suddenly helped her to find the words she wanted. "You're so simple that you're wonderful! You've learned to live real lives without all the shams that make slaves of the rest of us. Why, my life seems as empty as a bubble and the things I do worth just about as much as a bubble by the side of this." She swept her hand out toward the lamp-lighted room. "And I must have lived like this once--but I've forgotten! I've always thought my brother queer and that governess he had insufferable--but I guess you and he know what's best. I'm glad the child is with you. Yes," the wistful note crept back into her voice, "I would have enjoyed having her, but, she's better off, all freckled and in those absurd clothes."
As Mrs. Winthrop drove away through the starlit night, a costly robe protecting her from the chill of the evening, Celeste at hand for instant service, Kingston guiding the monster car, she looked back over her shoulder at the little house outlined against the sky and sighed--a lonely little sigh.
In a tumult of joy Keineth had thrown her arms about Mrs. Lee's neck. "Oh, I was so frightened!" she cried. "Thank you for not letting me go. I'd have just hated Miss Edgecombe's--after this! And I do want to stay with Peggy!" she finished with a tight hug. Then, as they climbed the stairs together, she said softly--without knowing why in the least she said it:
Poor Aunt Josephine! It must be awful to be rich.