"Whistled and shouted and called them by name.On, Dasher and Dancer! On, Prancer and Vixen!On, Comet and Cupid! On, Dunder and Blitzen!"
Old Peg did not know exactly what to make of all her new names, but like the intelligent beast she was, she divined that it meant to go as fast as she could, so she snow-dusted Jo Winn's team until they had to drop back a few yards. If it had not been for me, I think Zebedee's turn out would have fooled any one inclined to believe in St. Nick. Of course Peg did not look much like eight tiny reindeer, but then, he might have left his reindeer team in the Antarctic Circle and picked up a mere horse for the rest of the journey, which would have been a most thoughtful thing for our beloved Saint to have done.
The little pickaninnies were on the lookout for Docallison, and as we neared Aunt Keziah's cabin a shout went up from the bushes where some of the little boys were hiding, watching the bend in the road. The window was black with expectant faces and Zebedee said he thought theirsmiles were more beautiful than any Christmas wreaths he had ever seen. You remember that Aunt Keziah was the neighbourhood "Tender," that is, she looked after all the children whose mothers were away in service. She was quite an institution and Father said did much to lower the death rate of her race. She raised a healthy crowd of children and as a rule they turned out to be a mannerly lot as well.
"Perliteness is cheap an' a smile don' cos' no mo'n a frown," she would say, "an' you kin sho' buy mo' wif it if you is a tradin' wif white fo'ks."
Certainly there were smiles to spare that Christmas morning and politeness to burn. The children, fourteen in all, came tumbling out of the cabin when the boys in the bushes gave warning of our approach. They thought it was Docallison until we were upon them, and then such a shouting and scrambling as was never seen. One of the strangest things that ever happened was that Aunt Keziah herself believed in Santa Claus and no power on earth could shake her faith in him.
"'Cose I b'lieves in him! If'n I ain't nebber seed him befo' what dat got to do wif it? I ain't nebber yit laid eyes on Gawd an' de blessed Sabior but I b'lieves; an' now I done seed Santy Claus wif my own eyes. What's mo', he done brung me gif's wif his own han'. De preacher ub a Sunday done said dat Gawd would gib me honey an' de honey com', an' I will git gold, yea, fin' gold,—but I ain't nebber foun' none yit, an' all de honey dis here ole nigger done tas'ed fer yars an' yars is some bum'le bee honey what de chillun foun' in de woods. Cose I ain't a blamin' uf de Almighty,—I reckon he'll do fer me someday whin he gits to it, but so fer I done ebby thing fer myse'.—But Santy here he done foun' me and is a doin' fer me now," and the old woman munched her chocolate marshmallows, that seemed designed especially for her toothless state, and pulled around her lean old shoulders the nice warm shawl that Santa Claus had drawn from his bursting pack.
The cabin, boasting only two rooms and a low attic where the male "boders" slept, was full tooverflowing when all of us piled in, but we were anxious to see how the little darkeys took Santa Claus and if they really believed in him. They did, every last one of them. There was not a doubting Thomas among them. With no incredulity to overcome, Zebedee's task was a simple one. He told his cheerful and kindly lies with much gusto, to the delight of all his listeners, black and white.
"Well, children, I thought I would never get here! I had so many places to go. I was coming last night down your chimney, which is the proper way to come after you are all asleep at night, but my reindeer got so tired I had to put them in a stable way up at Richmond and get down here just the best I could, and then borrow a horse from Docallison and get Miss Page to drive me over here. By the way, Docallison sent his kindest regards to all of you,—" Here some of the little nigs made bobbing curtseys and the ones who did not got soundly smacked by Aunt Keziah. "He couldn't come this morning buthe thought you wouldn't mind since I was coming."
At that, Little Minnie, who was one of the charity orphans Aunt Keziah was raising, began to blubber:
"I ain't gwine take no castor ile from Santy. Docallison done tell me he gwine gib me a pinny if I tak castor ile."
"Why, if I didn't almost forget!" exclaimed the ever-ready Zebedee. "I have a whole dime here for a little girl who was to take castor oil," and he began a frantic search for his pockets but the down pillows and dressing gown were too much for him and Wink came to his relief with the necessary coin. "Now you must promise to take your medicine right away."
"But I ain't sick now!" wailed the little girl, clutching her dime. "I means whin I do git sick."
"Now listen to that there lil' orphant Minnie!" exclaimed Aunt Keziah. "What cause she got to worrit about ile whin she ain't got ache or pain?"
"But I'se thinkin' 'bout what I'se gonter git whin I done gits through a stuffin'," wailed Minnie. "I lows thin I gotter take ile."
"Well, you've got your dime now and if you get sick you must take the oil," laughed Zebedee.
"But Docallison gibs me a pinny. I ain't got no use fer a dime. Aunt Keziah won't let chilluns spen' nothin' but pinnies!"
So Wink had to go through his pockets for the desired penny before little Orphan Minnie would be comforted. Aunt Keziah stood by with a tolerant smile on her wrinkled old face. It was a well known fact that the old woman spoiled all the little charity children, the ones she took for nothing, while she made the "bo'ders" toe the line and walk chalk.
The twins she was raising, Milly Jourdan's twins, whom she had so euphoniously named Postle Peter and Pistle Paul, emboldened by the success of Minnie, now set up a whine for pennies, too, but Aunt Keziah knocked their heads together without ceremony.
"You Postle Peter! You Pistle Paul! I'lllearn you some manners, you lim's er Satan. Ain't you got sinse ernuf to know Santy Claus didn't come way down here from North 'Merica jis' ter listen ter yo' gabble? As fer gittin' pinnies fer a takin' castor ile,—you know jis' as well as I do that you lick de spoon ev'y chanct you git, you is dat fon' of ile. De ve'y las' time Docallison was here he done sayed you mak him sick to his stomach a guzzlin' ile de way you done."
The old woman's tirade caused a general laugh, and Tweedles and I were really uneasy for fear Santy would shake off his bowl full of jelly he roared so loud. Wink found some more pennies which he surreptitiously handed to the crestfallen twins.
"Here, Pistle Peter and Postle Paul! Here's some pennies for you, to make up for your names," he whispered to the grinning little nigs.
CHRISTMAS FOR SALLY WINN.
There were other cabins to visit and we had to tear ourselves away from Aunt Keziah's. Mr. Kent took many photographs of Santa Claus with the little darkeys crowding around him.
"This will be a gold mine to me," he averred. "I can see myself filling pages of advertising matter with illustrations from this morning."
Everywhere we went, Santa Claus was hailed with delight. We left many packages at many cabins and finally ended up at Sally Winn's. This was at Dee's instigation. Indeed it was a kindly thought that took us there. Poor Sally had been exercising unwonted self-control in not sending for Father at midnight on Christmas Eve. Jo said she had felt all kinds of flutterations but had submitted to a dose of the "pink medicine," and that, with the comfort she hadderived from a hot water bottle, had tided her through the night. Then she had felt it incumbent upon her to get up and make waffles for breakfast because of the guest from New York.
We had some gifts for Sally tied up in the Tucker's best style, with sheets on sheets of tissue paper, yards and yards of red and green ribbon, and dozens and dozens of Christmas seals. Mammy Susan had been growing a citronella slip for her and it had reached quite a pretentious size and begun to branch out like the parent plant.
Sally's delight was really pathetic to see. She, poor woman, had very little of interest in her life, so little that she had to make a real pleasure and excitement over her "spells." A visit from Santa Claus was almost as much fun to her as a visit from the Angel Gabriel would have been, and the sleigh bells were only next in cheer to the last trump. Sally, you will remember, was our neighbour at Milton who spent her life trying to die.
Our coming was a great surprise to her. Any pleasure that happened to come her way alwaystook her unawares. She was certainly one of the Mrs. Gummidges of this world and was "a poor lone lorn critter" if I ever saw one. She was a grateful soul and was profuse in her thanks for the gifts. I had never seen her more enthusiastic although Father and I had never missed a Christmas in giving her some nice present. I verily believe it was the festive wrappings that appealed to her.
Of course Mr. Tucker took her by storm. He acted Santa Claus just as he had at Aunt Keziah's and Sally, I know, regretted that her education kept her from joining ranks with the believers.
"Did you ever see anybody look so like himself? I have never seen a Santa Claus before that did not have on an ugly false face—hideous painted things that wouldn't fool a chicken," Sally began with her accustomed volubility. "I can't quite make up my mind that you are not Santy—"
"Well, don't make up your mind to any such treason. I am Santy!"
"Well, Santy or not, I am mighty glad to see all of you. Now you must try some of my eggnog and fruit cake. Dr. Allison says my fruit cake is the best he ever tasted and that it is so well mixed that it is as digestible as sponge cake. My eggnog, too, can't be beat,—made of pure cream and eggs that are so fresh they were warm when I broke them. I waited for those finest Dominickers to get off their nests before I made it. 'Tain't strong of liquor and won't hurt a baby. Jo, bring my best Bohemian glasses. You'll find them on the tray in the dining room all set out on the sideboard. Here's my cake and I am proud to cut it for such company.
"Dr. Allison says he likes the looks of my cake. He says it looks like chewing tobacco, it is so nice and black and fruity, and that it tastes better than it looks. You can't trust all cooks with their fruit cake because it is so dark-like that dirt don't show in it and sometimes things that don't belong there get in it. I remember one time over at Mrs. Purdy's (of course I don't mean to be gossiping about her now that she is dead and gone)—butshe cut a cake with all the airs and graces of a good cake-maker, which she never was, and what should I find in my piece—just one piece, mind you—but a shoe button and a bent pin. I just thought to myself: 'Well, if that's what I found, God in Heaven knows what I didn't find.' Now there ain't a thing in my cake but the best ingredients, and I'll wager nobody will ever find anything in my cooking foreign to the human digestion."
We were certain of it, but Sally did not give us time to express our confidence. She plunged into a stream of eloquence concerning her Dominickers and their superior brand of eggs, as she ladled out the eggnog as smooth as a baby's cheek and as fluffy as a summer cloud.
"There are some that hold that a white Leghorn's eggs are more delicate than any other kind, but I say there is a richness about an old-fashioned Dominicker's eggs that nothing can come up to. What do you want with an egg being too delicate, anyhow? Of course, for Angel's Food they might be best, but I have never seenanything that an egg laid by a Leghorn will do that a Dominicker's won't do just as well. Of course nobody wants a duck egg or a goose egg for anything short of ginger bread,—they are coarse! Now a hard boiled guinea egg is my favourite of all eggs. I think a nice hot guinea egg, boiled until it is mealy—it takes a good half hour—and then mashed up with good batter bread made of the fresh meal, ground over at Macy's mill, provided the batter bread is made the right way,—none of your batter bread raised with baking powders, but my kind, raised with eggs and plenty of them, well beaten and baked quickly,—I do say that there is no breakfast better."
The strangest thing about Sally Winn was that she longed for company, not for the good she might get out of it but just so she could pour forth her soul in conversation. We might just as well have been dumb for all she got from us, but all the time we were eating her truly wonderful cake and drinking her eggnog that even she could not praise according to its deserts, sheregaled us with a stream of conversation that made our heads swim.
"I understand poor Jo better now," whispered Dee to me. "How can he ever talk? No wonder! He gets out of the habit at home and can't get in it when he goes away."
"Tell Mammy Susan I have got a good starting of rose geranium for her. I would have sent it over by Jo this morning but I was so afraid it might be too cold for it. It looks like Mammy Susan has all the luck with citronella and I have luck with rose geranium. My bush is so big it looks like I'll have to get Jo's watering tub from the barn to plant it in. It has long out-grown its pot. I certainly do like to have plenty of healthy rose geranium on hand when I make apple jelly. Nothing gives it the flavour that a leaf of rose geranium will,—just pour the boiling jelly over a leaf—one to each glass."
"That sounds fine!" exclaimed Santa Claus. "I don't think I ever tasted it."
"Wait a minute! I am going to fix one upfor you to take back to Richmond and next summer when I make my jelly, I'll make some for you. It comes in mighty handy for sudden company." Sally bustled off and came back bearing a tumbler of jelly that would have taken a prize at any fair in the world, I feel sure.
"Here it is!" she panted. "Jo is that fond of it that I sometimes hate to think of leaving him because I don't know who will ever make it to suit him."
"But are you thinking of leaving him?" questioned Mr. Tucker.
"Dying! I mean dying!"
"Oh, but you look so well!"
"I think so, too, Sally," I ventured. "You are getting to be right fat."
"Ah, my dear, that has nothing to do with health. The fatter I get the more of me there is to feel bad. I won't be long for this world, I am thankful to say. Fat! Why, I have seen many a fat corpse—more fat ones than lean ones." We could not gainsay such gruesome statistics, but I told her that Father had sent her aprescription that she must take immediately without fail.
"And give up the pink medicine?"
"He says you won't need that for to-day, that is, if you take the other. Father says you are to bundle up and come over to Bracken for dinner. Jo and Mr. Kent are to come, too, of course, and that will mean that you will have no household cares. He says you must come. It is the doctor's orders."
"Well, if I must, I must!" she sighed. "I have great faith in Dr. Allison and am sure he would not prescribe something that would hurt me," and so Sally, with many layers of wraps enveloping her already portly person, and, clasping in her arms the rose geranium for Mammy Susan, was bundled into Jo's already overflowing sleigh and we merrily started off for Bracken.
A very funny thing happened on the way, at least it turned out to be funny although it might have been very serious. Dee, who was on the front seat between Wink and Jo, insisted upon driving. Sally, on the back seat with Dum andMr. Kent, was so wrapped up that she was oblivious to the speed that the two spirited horses were making. Of course Peg was ready for a race and so were all of us and race we did for most of the trip home. Jo's horses were young and good trotters and Dee, with blazing eyes and glowing cheeks, let them go as fast as they wanted to. My old Peg had seen better days as a racer but had the advantage of a cutter and a small load and so made the best of it. I hugged the road and kept it, while Zebedee hurled defiance at our pursuers.
About an eighth of a mile before the public road turned into the avenue at Bracken, Dee saw a chance to catch up with us and pass us. There was a smooth, unbroken stretch of snow that she thought was part of the road and she swerved her team to cut through it and get in the lead—but snow, like Charity, covers a multitude of sins. This pure mantle covered a great gully. The snow had drifted to that side of the road and the gully was filled and then neatly smoothed over. There was nothing to warn a person unacquaintedwith the road. Jo was evidently so taken up with Dee's glowing countenance that he was paying no attention to where she was taking them, when over they went as quietly and peacefully as turning over in bed.
The horses were wonderful. They stopped stock-still. The near one was dragged over by the weight of the sleigh but he lay quite still. Peg behaved like the almost thoroughbred she is and not only stood quietly but gave a ringing neigh of encouragement to the other horses.
Zebedee and I were out in a jiffy and running to the assistance of the turnover. I deemed it wiser for me to attend to the horses. If they had struggled, it might have been quite serious. I loosened the traces on the one who had been able to keep his feet, and then the fallen one, and as soon as I had accomplished that, I caught hold of the bridle and got him up in no time. He was not hurt at all. Zebedee was digging out the crowd, who had, one and all, taken headers. A waving sea of legs presented itself to our astonishedgaze. One by one they scrambled out, all looking more or less sheepish but all rosy and ready to laugh if they could just be reassured that no one was hurt.
"Jo! Jo! Pull me out! The grey legs are mine!" came in muffled tones from the deepest part of the drift where two fat legs encased in homemade grey woolen stockings were wildly beating the air.
"Sally!" we cried, and in a moment we had her out.
"Oh, Lord!" I groaned. "Poor Father and more pink medicine!" but not a bit of it! Sally was as game as the rest of them, and came up smiling and happy when she, too, found no one was hurt. The snow was as dry as powder and shook off them like so much flour. The sleigh was righted in short order and they all clambered back. Dee penitently handed the reins to Jo.
"I am not to be trusted. You had better drive."
"Not at all! No one could have told that was not perfectly good road. I should have been lookingat the road instead of—ahem—ahem—instead of—instead—of—that buzzard, sailing down there," pointing to one of the denizens of the air who had made his appearance in the sky almost as though he had expected some pickings from our turnover.
"Humph! Buzzard, indeed!" grunted Sally. "If I was Miss Dee I shouldn't thank you to be a calling me a buzzard." Which went to show that Sally was not so much wrapped up that she could not see what was right in front of her.
What a dinner we did have! Tweedles and I often spoke of it when we were back at school, especially on the veal pot-pie days. The table was resplendent with its fine old damask and silver and with its load of good things.
"That there gobbler," said Mammy Susan, pointing with pride at the king of the feast sitting on his parsley throne, "don't weigh a ounce less 'n twenty pounds. He was the greediest one of the whole flock an' now see what he done come to! He was always the struttinest fowl and looks lakhe is still some pompous with his bosom chuck full of chestnuts."
Blanche and Bill were to wait on the table, but Mammy Susan had to come into the dining room to see that everything went off in proper style. She stood back like a head waiter in some fine restaurant and directed her minions with the airs of a despot.
"Pass that ther macaroni to Miss Dum!" would come in a sibilant whisper. And then as Bill would prance by the old woman with all of the style he had learned on the Mississippi steamboat, she would say in stern undertones: "Don't wait fer folks to lick they plates befo' you gib um a sicond help."
"Blanche, gib Miss Sally Winn some 'scalloped oyschters, and there is Mr. Tucker 'thout a livin' thing on his plate."
Eating was not the only thing we did at that feast. We talked and laughed and cracked jokes until poor Sally Winn forgot all about dying and I think realized there was something in life, after all. What we had for that Christmas dinner wasno doubt what every family in the United States who could have it was having, but it seemed to us to be better, and I believe it was. Mammy Susan had a witch's wand to stir things with and whatever she touched was perfect. Her cranberry sauce always jelled; her candied sweet potatoes were only equalled by marrons glacé, so Zebedee said. The cheese on her macaroni always browned just right; and her mashed potatoes always looked like banks of snowy clouds. She seemed to have the power of glorifying egg plant and salsify so that persons often asked what the delicious thing was they were eating.
"Whew!" ejaculated Zebedee, "I am certainly glad I did not have to eat in my embonpoint. I would have touched the table long ago and would have had to stop. As it is, I can still eat about three inches without having a collision."
Our day passed in feasting and merry making. The walls of Bracken rang with merriment. Even Father came out of his book and got quitegay. Sally Winn forgot to hold her heart and laughed like a girl at the jests.
"It will be fatal to sit down after such a dinner," declared Dee. "We had better go out and coast and jolt it down."
There was only one small sled, left from my childhood, but the attic was full of broken chairs, and in a few minutes the eager males had fashioned make-shift coasters out of old rockers and chair backs.
"They are not very elegant but they will slide down the hill, which is the main thing," said Wink, as he lay flat on his stomach and whizzed down the long hill to the spring.
We had a chair back apiece and so did not have to wait turns nor did we have to go double. I must say I like to coast by myself and guide my own sled. The impromptu sleds were not so very strong and it was much safer not to overload. We coasted until the long hill was as slick as glass and, with the exception of an occasional turnover, there were no casualties.
Father and Sally Winn watched us from thelibrary window but after a while they came out, Sally bundled up to within an inch of her life, and what should they do but mount some chair backs and get in the game. Jo Winn fell off his sled when he saw his invalid sister, who only the night before had been on the point of shuffling off this mortal coil, actually straddling a chair back and taking the hill like a native of Switzerland.
"This is a new prescription I have given Sally," whispered Father to Jo. "She is to coast every day as long as the snow lasts, and after it melts we are to think of some other form of exercise for her."
"How about horse-back riding?" I suggested. "Jo's old Bess is just like a comfortable rocker."
"The very thing!" exclaimed Father. "Let her ride around the yard for a few days until she gains confidence, and then she can go on a regular ride. Go to Milton for the mail and even come over here after a little."
"Must we still keep up the pink medicine?" asked Jo.
"Oh, well! Give it to her in emergencies, but not too freely."
Jo had a twinkle in his eye. He knew that the pink medicine was made of perfectly good pump water with a little colouring matter and enough bromide to quiet the nerves of an oyster.
"This Christmas has done something for Sally if for no one else," said Father. "It has taught her that she can go heels over head in the snow without affecting her heart; that she can eat as good a dinner as the next without feeling bad; and that she can coast down a hill without turning a hair."
I looked at Sally settling herself on a chair back that Wink had kindly pulled up the hill for her. Sticking out her fat, woolly, grey legs on each side, she took the hill in great shape. I hoped she was cured of her imaginary ailments and would let my dear Father get many a good night's rest by not sending for him every time she felt her heart beat.
BACK IN THE TREAD-MILL.
That is the way we looked on going back to school. It was not really a tread-mill, nothing nearly so dreadful, but we considered ourselves very much put upon that the holidays could not last forever, that books had to be studied, and rules either obeyed or punishments meted out if they were broken.
We had gone home knowing that demerits were going to have to be worked off after the holidays, but as I have said before, it had had no more effect on our spirits than a threat of hell fire would have on a new-born babe. But babies must grow up and time will pass and holidays come to an end, and here we were paying up for our foolishness on our last night at school before Christmas.
Almost all the Junior class was in bad, and miseryloves company, so we lightened our labours all we could with sly jests and notes written to each other instead of the pages of dictionary we were supposed to be copying.
Of all punishments, copying dictionary seems to me to be the most futile. It was disagreeable enough, but of course punishments should be that, but it was not only disagreeable but such a terrible waste of time. I did not mind learning hymns, especially if I already knew them, but the pages of dictionary almost persuaded me to behave myself,—not quite, though.
"When we get out of this, let's be either very good or very careful," said Dum, as we finished up our first day in durance vile while the rest of the school, all the good girls, had gone for a nice walk in the woods. "I am liable to do something desperate if I get in bad again."
"I am going to try," declared Mary, very penitent after having to memorize a very long and very lugubrious hymn. "It may not pay to be good, but you've certainly got to pay to be bad."
All of us tried to be good. We studied like Trojans (not that Trojans ever did study as far as I know). I learned my history by heart and actually won a smile of approval from Miss Plympton. I knuckled down to geometry and if the figure was drawn exactly as it was in the book and the same letters were used to designate the angles, I got on swimmingly. A slight change of letter upset me considerably, however. I never could understand as I had under Miss Cox's reign. I was doing algebra as well, although the Juniors were supposed to be through with that delectable study; but I had started out so far behind that I had to keep on with it if I ever hoped to get my degree.
English under Miss Ball continued to be delightful and all of us did good work with her. She had a power of making knowledge desirable by making it interesting, and she made literature delightful because she loved it herself and was never bored. The parallel reading she gave us to do was well chosen and broadening. One thing that especially pleased me about MissBall was her cheerful outlook. She did not believe that all good writing was through with,—that literature had died with Tennyson and Thackeray. She read modern poets with as much pleasure as Father himself and actually gave some of the modern novels for parallel reading. Nor did she scorn the five cent magazines.
She encouraged us to do original work. It was a great relief to have a teacher say: "Write what suits you," rather than to give out one of the time-honoured hackneyed themes,—such as: My Afternoon Walk, or A Quiet Sunday Morning, or Thoughts on a Sunset.
My head was so full of plots I could hardly concentrate on one. The trouble was I so often found my plot not to be so very original after all. Miss Ball would say a story was very good but point out its similarity to noted productions, and I would realize that I had been unconsciously influenced. She endeavoured to make us be ourselves at no matter what cost. "A poor thing but mine own" was to be our motto.
"If you want to be successful be modern atleast," she would say. "If you must imitate any one, imitate O. Henry or Ferber, even Montagu Glass. Don't try to write like Edgar Allan Poe. If you are going to write like him, you will do it, anyhow, and a poor imitation of him is terrible. If any of you want to make a living with writing find out what the public likes and what the magazine editors want and do that just as well as you can do it. You need not feel that you are hitching Pegasus to a plough and even if you do, ploughing is a very worthy occupation and there is poetry in it if taken properly." Then she read us some from Masefield's "Everlasting Mercy":
"The past was faded like a dream,There came the jingling of a team,A ploughman's voice, a clink of chain,Slow hoofs, and harness under strain.Up the slow slope a team came bowing,Old Callow at his autumn ploughing,Old Callow, stooped above the hales,Ploughing the stubble into wales.His grave eyes looking straight ahead,Shearing a long straight furrow red;His plough-foot high to give it earthTo bring new food for men to birth.O wet red swathe of earth laid bare,O truth, O strength, O gleaming share,O patient eyes that watch the goal,O ploughman of the sinner's soul.O Jesus, drive the coulter deepTo plough my living man from sleep."
"If you can hitch your Pegasus to a plough and 'bring new food for men to birth' you have done a better deed than if you had soared in the skies all the time in the wake of some great men. I consider O. Henry an unconscious philanthropist. He has opened our eyes to the charm of the usual."
Such lessons as these gave us strength to bear with the extreme boresomeness of other classes.
We worked off the demerits against us, and by being both good and careful we got no more to sadden our days. Our dummies were neatly folded up and seldom brought out. Just to show that we were still human beings, we did have an occasional spread, and once Miss Plympton let Tweedles and me go under the chaperonage of Miss Ball down to tea with dear old Captain PatLeahy, the one-legged gate keeper at the crossing. He was so glad to see us he almost wept. He had sent us a formal invitation but doubted Miss Plympton's giving her consent.
"An' the poosies have been a lickin' uv their furrr all morning to get rready for the coompany an' I got me neighbourr, Mrs. Rooney, to bake me a poond cake for tay."
"Why, Captain, we did not dream you would go to any trouble for us. But we certainly do adore pound cake, and isn't that a beauty?" enthused Dee.
The little table was set ready for tea. You remember how the Captain's gate house looked. It was very tiny, so tiny that you did not see how any one could live in it, but he declared he had more room than he needed. The lower berth from a wrecked Pullman served him as seat by day and bed by night. A doll-baby-sized cooking stove, very shiny and black, was at one side, while a shelf over it was covered with all the china and cooking utensils he needed. A little table, just like the one on sleepers, was hookedin between the seats and a very dainty repast was spread thereon. There were at least a dozen cats but all of them were handsome and healthy and very polite. There had been eight the winter before, counting Oliver, the one we took back to Captain Leahy.
"They will mooltiply an' I have a harrd time findin' good homes for thim. Bett here behind the stove, has presinted Oliverr wid some schtip brothers and sisters. The good Lorrd knows what I am to do wid 'em."
"Please, please let me hold some of them!" and Dee was down on her knees in the corner near Bett's bed. "Look! Look! Their eyes are open! Four of them! Oh, I do want all of them so bad."
Bett seemed perfectly willing to trust Dee with an armful of kittens, indeed I think she was rather relieved to be rid of the care of them for a while, as she sidled out of the door and went trotting up the road, her large handsome tail waving joyously.
"Now she's gone to the cloob or maybe to asuffragette meetin'. Poor Bett has a schtoopid life, confined as she is to rraisin' sooch larrge families," and the old man gave one of his rich vibrant laughs that warmed the cockles of your heart.
We talked of Miss Peyton and how much we liked her, but since Miss Ball was a member of the faculty, we refrained from our criticisms of Miss Plympton, although we knew that Captain Leahy was dying to hear all about our latest scrapes and how we got out of them and what we had to say of our stern principal. She really was not nearly so stern as we gave her credit for, but we were nothing but girls and young people are always extreme in their opinions. Everybody is either perfectly lovely or perfectly horrid in their eyes. When I look back on my days at Gresham I realize that Miss Plympton's chief fault was that she had no humour, and surely lacking that God-given attribute was not her fault.
We enjoyed that tea greatly. Captain Leahy certainly had his share and more of humour and his keen comments were a never failing sourceof delight. Miss Ball was young and full of spirits and good stories, and the little gate house actually rocked with laughter.
We devoured every crumb of Mrs. Rooney's pound cake and the host had to fill his little blue tea pot three times before our thirst was quenched. Of course Dee had to save a little milk for the kittens and Captain Leahy seemed to think it was perfectlyau faitfor her to let them lap from her saucer, although Dum and I are of one mind about eating at the table with cats. Now I don't mind a dog at the table at all, provided it is a polite dog who does not help himself until he is told to; but cats! Ugh! They are entirely too promiscuous, as Mammy Susan says.
THE FIRE DRILL.
"Young ladies," said Miss Plympton one morning in March, "I fear that in a measure I have been lax in certain duties imposed upon the pupils of Gresham."
A groan from somewhere in chapel, no one knew just where, was the eloquent response to this statement. We had actually passed January and February and plunged into the middle of March without getting into any very bad messes. The philosophical among us could look forward to the first of June and release from the stringent rules that bound us. I, for one, was not philosophical at all but had a feeling that I was to spend the rest of my life doing things by the clock and knowing a year ahead just what I was to have to eat for every meal.
I know I do a lot of talking about food but itseems to me that something you have to contemplate three times a day is a rather important factor in life. I used to feel if they would only get mixed up and give us on Tuesday what they usually gave on Wednesday that I could bear it better.
"The duty of which I speak," continued Miss Plympton, ignoring the groan, "is the fire drill that should be regularly practiced and, I regret to say, has not been. The building is as nearly as possible a fire-proof one. Nevertheless, I deem it prudent that we engage in this drill."
"What a bore!" growled some of the girls.
Others welcomed the news with pleasure, "Anything for a change!"
"The fire alarm, as all of you perhaps know, is six short taps of the gong—a pause—and six more. When the alarm rings, which of course it will do without warning, I expect every pupil in the school to get out of the building with as little noise and confusion as possible. Indeed I demand no noise at all and no confusion. No one is to go to her room for any purpose whatsoeverif the fire alarm should ring while she is in class or otherwise employed. If she should be in her room, she is to leave it as expeditiously as possible and not return to it until permission is given."
"And let my deer skin and pictures burn up?" exclaimed Dum under her breath. "Nit!"
"'Tain't a real fire, goosey!" said Dee.
"Yes, but it might be."
"Silence!" tapped Miss Plympton. "Now I have warned you of an alarm in the near future and I want to see who is to show the most presence of mind. I want to see who will be out of the building first but with no noise or confusion."
"You notice she didn't say how she required us to get out of the building, by what route, I mean, and you watch me! I am going to get out my own way," Dum whispered to me as we were dismissed to our class rooms.
"Well, I'm game. I'll go any way you do."
"Good! I bet you will, and of course Dee will, too."
We feverishly awaited the threatened alarm and the fire drill that was to follow. Greshamwas a big building and the 125 girls in it should be able to get out without any great confusion.
"If they only ring it while we are in our rooms we can work our scheme and beat all the girls to the open," said Dum.
We had decided not to let Mary and Annie in on our plan as Annie was trying very hard not to get any demerits. Mr. Pore treated bad marks on a report very seriously, while our dear fathers did not look upon a bad mark as something that could not be lived down.
"DONG! DONG! DONG! DONG! DONG! DONG!" a pause and then six more dongs.
It was a few minutes before supper, so close to it, in fact, that for a moment we thought it was the gong for that frugal repast. We were just trying to doll up a bit after a very strenuous game of tennis, the first of the season as the courts had not been fit to use because of the many rains we had been deluged with. We had had some sheets tied together for days, ever since Miss Plympton had given warning about the fire drill. We had determined to astonish and delighther by the quiet and orderly way we would get out of the building. Dum began rapidly taking down pictures and wrapping them up in her beloved deer skin, the one she had shot and Zebedee had tanned and made into a rug for her. Dee tied the sheets tightly to the radiator while I gathered up the bits of jewelry and knotted them in a handkerchief. This we had rehearsed and knew how to do it in a moment. When Dee got the sheets tied, we were ready for the descent. Dum was to go first, as it was her scheme. With her bundle flung over her back by a strap, she grasped the improvised life line and slid safely to the ground. I followed, giggling so I came very near losing my grip. When I got to the end of the last sheet, I must say I hated to let go. I looked down and the ground seemed miles away. It was really only about six feet. Dee had taken up more in the knot she had tied around the radiator than we had allowed for in our calculations.
"Drop," came hoarsely from Dum. So drop I did, wrenching my ankle painfully in the fall.
Dee came down like a movie actress and thenwe scurried around the house in time to beat all the whole school out on the lawn. My ankle hurt like fury but I grinned and bore it. While Miss Plympton had not designated the manner of our exit from the building, we well knew that if she got on to our mode of egress we would hear from her and that not in endearing terms.
She was standing near the great front door on the gallery, but it was dusk and we were able to sidle close to the wall and have all the appearance of coming out of the building.
"Why, young ladies, you are very prompt," she said approvingly. "Are the inmates on your floor out of their rooms?"
"We—we—we don't know."
"We reckon they are."
"We did not stop to see."
The girls by this time came trooping out, some of them half dressed, getting ready for supper as they were when the gong sounded. They were very gay until they saw Miss Plympton; then they sobered down.
Several of the more excitable ones were weeping, certain it was a real fire.
Mary and Annie were the very last to appear. They, it seemed, had lost much time trying to find us. They were sure we would not have gone without warning them and so would not desert us.
"We looked everywhere for you!" cried Mary when she spied us. "Where on earth have you been?"
"Shhh! We'll tell you later!" I whispered.
Annie was much flushed and excited and looked as though she, too, had feared it was a real fire.
"I hated to leave my box," she said to me in a low tone. "You see, those are all the clothes I have and all I'll be likely to have for many a day. I was afraid it was a real fire and was very much frightened about you, my friends." The poor little thing burst out crying and we all turned in and comforted her till she began to laugh.
All this time my ankle was killing me. I stood on one foot but the throbbing was intense, and then I knew the time was coming when MissPlympton would order us back into the building, and how I was to walk I did not see. It had been all I could do to get from around the corner of the school after my fatal drop, and now that the excitement that had buoyed me up had subsided and I knew I was going to have to walk on cold facts, I did not see how it could be done. I was game, game enough for anything. What I dreaded most of all was giving Tweedles away. Miss Plympton had seen us arrive together and if I had a sprained ankle, whatever I had done to get it they must have done, too.
"As soon as Lady Plympton gives the command, fly up to 117 and pull in the sheets," I whispered to Dum. "I've hurt my ankle and shall have to take things easy. Dee will help me get in, and please whisper to Mary Flannagan to get on my other side." I thought it better to have Dee stay behind where some sort of ready finesse might be needed.
They got me in—I don't know just how. I have never imagined greater agony than I went through. I never uttered a single groan, however,although I felt like shrieking. Before we made our painful way to the stairs, Miss Plympton disappeared into the office, and then Mary and Dee picked me up bodaciously, making a chair with their hands, and they got me up to 117 in short order. The girls who were on our corridor just thought it was part of our monkey shines and did not question the reason.
When I got to 117, of course I fainted. That was what I had been expecting to do all the time. It was a mercy I had not done it before. I had felt the cold sweat breaking out on my upper lip, which is a sure forerunner of a faint. I had never really fainted before. I had been knocked silly several times, once on the ice when Mabel Binks had bumped into me and knocked me down, but this faint was one that was simply the outcome of pain.
It was a blessed relief from the agony I had been in and I did not thank whoever it was that put household ammonia under my nose and doused my head with cold water. I felt as though I should like to stay faint forever.
"Did you get the sheets in out of the window?" I stammered when I struggled back to life.
"Yes! Yes!" and a relieved giggle from Dum.
Dee was busy turning over the leaves in her "First Aid to the Injured."
"Let her lie down, put a pillow under her heart! There! Now which foot is it?"
"Never mind which foot it is now! There goes the supper gong! Annie, you and Mary had better skidoo out of this room or you'll get so many demerits you won't be out of bounds to go home in June. Dee, you just unlace my left shoe and let me keep it upon the bed. Dum, please get out my nightie for me and then all of you go down to supper and tell the powers that be that poor little Page Allison was so excited over the fire drill that she had hysterics and had to go to bed without her supper." The long speech was too much for me and I came near going off again. "Go on! If you don't, we'll all get found out and then what?"
Tweedles said they had never sat through such an interminable meal as that one.
"Nothing but soda biscuit and stewed prunes and corn beef hash! But you would have thought it was the finest course dinner it took so long!" gasped Dee. "Let me see your poor foot. Gee, it's swollen!"
"Isn't it a blessing it's Saturday night and no study hour? Now Dee and I can wait on you and get you comfy."
"But, Dum, I don't want to keep you from dancing in the Gym. It is lots of fun and you know it."
"Fun much! How could I enjoy myself when I know you are up here suffering?"
"Well!" said Dee, consulting her book again, "the first thing is to soak it in very hot water, as hot as you can stand it. Go on, Dum, and fill our pitcher before the once-a-weekers get started on their tub night orgy." We always called the girls who took baths only on Saturday night the "once-a-weekers."
My injured member was put to soak in such hot water that I trembled for my toe nails. Dee stood by with a pitcher ready to pour more inand "hot" it up as soon as it got to the bearing point. After a good half hour of soaking, Dee poured cold water over it and then put on as neat a bandage as any surgeon could have done I feel sure. It seemed too tight to me, but Dee insisted that it would loosen up and I must bear it tight.
"You know if a doctor had hold of you he would put it in plaster. I am afraid maybe we ought to 'fess up and call in a doctor. It might be a very serious thing to neglect it."
"Nonsense! I trust your bandaging more than I would old Dr. Stick-in-the-mud's, here at Gresham. You know he would not do anything quite so modern as put it in plaster."
Dee carried the bandage well up on my leg to keep it from puffing out over the top and then I was put tenderly to bed.
"I can't see that because I've got a sore foot it is any reason I should have to go hungry," I whined. "I am so empty I could easily eat up my bandage."
"Don't you dare!"
"Oh, honey, I am so sorry! I don't know whywe did not think to sneak you something. You looked so pale and wan when we left you to go to supper that somehow I never connected you with the thought of food. To think of your being hungry!" and Dum's hazel eyes got moist.
"But then's then and now's now! I reckon I can hold out 'til morning, however."
One of the peculiarities of boarding school is that if you are sick at all you are supposed to be too sick to eat. If you are really very bad off, so far gone you have to be put in the hospital, then you are fed up. If a girl skips a meal from indisposition, nothing is done about her food by the housekeeper, but if her roommate chooses to sneak some of her own supply up to the sufferer, although it is supposed to be against the rules to take any food from the table, at a time like that the infringement is winked at.
The girls were afraid to get out the alcohol lamp and make me a cup of instantaneous chocolate as we were almost sure one of the teachers would come to see how I was before they turned in for the night. As it was, they had hardly gotthe bowl of hot water out of the way and the room to rights before Miss Ball knocked on the door. She had a dainty tray of food for me.
"I didn't think hysterics would last so long you would not want something to eat, Page," she said archly, laying a little stress on hysterics. "I cooked this for you on my chafing dish."
The teachers, of course, used alcohol lamps all they chose. It was a nice cup of chocolate, with a marshmallow on top in lieu of whipped cream, two shirred eggs and a stack of buttered crackers.
"Oh, Miss Ball, you are so good!"
We felt sneaky indeed not to tell Miss Ball the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth concerning our escapade, but we knew it would be her duty to report us and the chances were she would do her duty. So we kept mum while I devoured the very good supper.
I was pretty certain that Miss Ball did not give very much credence to the hysterics dodge. She knew me too well. I was not the hysterical type.She was too much of a lady, however, to question me and understood girls well enough to know when to let them alone.
"Isn't she a peach, though?" was Dee's comment after the kind young teacher had gone off bearing the empty tray. I had devoured the last crumb, feeling much better in consequence.
"Page," whispered Dum, after lights were out, "do you think you will be able to bear your foot to the ground by to-morrow?"
"I can't tell. I am feeling lots better now and there is no telling what a night's rest will do for me. We shall just have to take no thought of to-morrow. 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'"
"Yes, just let to-morrow look after itself," yawned Dee. "We got out of the window and beat all the girls out of the building, and if one of us got a sprained ankle in consequence, we still have the glory of being out first and the thrill is still with me of sliding down that sheet. I'd like to do it again. That reminds me, I have not hadtime to untie the sheets. I'll do it in the morning to destroy all traces. Good ni—"
But all of us were asleep before she got out the ght.