The little entertainment had been a success, and Aunt Charlotte received very warm congratulations for the fine work which her little pupils had done.
As they strolled homeward, the guests talked of the numbers which had most delighted them.
Uncle Harry, wag that he was, had found Aunt Matilda quite as amusing as the music, the pretty dance which Nancy had contributed, or the fairy dialogue. He was expecting every moment that his young wife would gently upbraid him for his raillery, and he had not long to wait. As they turned in at their own gateway, she looked up at him.
“Harry,” she said, “you have a merry heart, and I would not for the world have you more quiet, but sometimes you carry your jokes too far. Dear, will you tell me why you did not mention that strange woman's name? You introduced her as Arabella's aunt.”
“My dear, that's who she said she was; she didn't tell me her name, so how could I tell you?”
“But you did not tell hermyname; you introduced me as your wife.”
“Well, surely youaremy wife; as she omitted to state whathername was, I wouldn't tell heryours. Simply evening things up, that's all.”
“What an idea!” she said, but she could not help laughing at his little joke.
Of course they talked and talked of their entertainment, of their fine audience, of the applause, and the delight of their friends.
They were on their way to school one morning, Nina, Jeanette, and their cousin, Lola Blessington.
“Nancy Ferris danced justbeautifully,” said Lola, “I wonder where she learned.”
“I don't know,” Jeanette said, sullenly.
She had envied the applause which Nancy's graceful dancing had evoked.
“Why, Jeanette,” exclaimed Nina, “youdoknow that Nancy learned to dance in New York.”
“Well, I don't knowwhotaught her, and that's probably what Lola meant,” Jeanette retorted sharply.
“New York!” said Lola. “Why, I remember a little girl I saw once at the theatre, who danced so gracefully that I thought she must be a fairy. She seemed ever so much like Nancy, but she had—”
“Come here, Nancy,” called Jeanette, sharply, “Lola says she saw a girl once, at a theatre in New York, who danced and looked like you. What do you think of that?”
“Jeanette!” cried Nina, surprised that her sister should be so eager to tease Nancy, but Nancy did not seem annoyed.
She looked straight into Jeanette's flashing eyes, as she said, quietly:
“Perhaps Lola did see me dance; I was in New York.”
“Oh, I didn't say it was you who danced at the theatre. I said the little girl was like you, but I remember now her hair was yellow,” Lola said.
“I wore a wig of long yellow curls,” Nancy said, “and I had to dance whether I wished to or not; Uncle Steve made me. Oh, I was not happy there. I was never so happy as when I've been with dear Aunt Charlotte, and Dorothy. Let's talk about something else.”
Jeanette felt a bit ashamed. Nina wished that her sister had not been so rude, and for a few moments neither could think of anything to say, but just at that moment Dorothy joined them, and soon they were talking as gaily as before.
Then Katie and Reginald came hurrying along the avenue, and a moment later Mollie Merton and Flossie Barnet, and soon they were all chattering like a flock of sparrows.
“Say! Just listen to me a minute,” shouted Reginald, “I've got something great to tell you, but I can't until you'll hark.”
“What is it? What is it?” cried the eager voices.
“It's just this,” he said with much importance: “My mamma called on Aunt Charlotte yesterday, and while they were talking 'bout our school Aunt Charlotte said that the big girls would begin to study history this week, and my brother Bob says it'll be all 'bout cutting folks' heads off. I guess it'll scare girls to study that. 'Twould scare me, andI'ma boy!”
“Why, Reginald Dean!” cried Katie.
“My middle name's Merton,” said the small boy, coolly.
“Well, Reginald Merton Dean, then,” Katie said, “and whatever your name is, you ought not to tell things like that!”
“Like what? Like learning 'bout folks choppin' off other folks' heads? Well, I guess it's so if my big brother says so,” Reginald replied.
The girls did not believe it, but they could not deny it. They knew that Reginaldthoughtwhat he said was true, but they believed that, in some way, the facts had become twisted.
They were at the cottage door now, and as they entered Reginald whispered:
“You just see, Katie Dean! I tell you Bob knows!”
The early morning lessons were the same as usual, and the girls soon forgot what Reginald had said, and at recess there were so many games to be played that there was little time for talking.
It was after recess that the surprise came. The reading lesson had been unusually interesting, and instead of twenty minutes, it had occupied a half-hour.
When the readers were put aside, Aunt Charlotte said:
“Commencing to-morrow, we shall devote a half-hour to studying history. You are all much younger than the pupils in the public schools who begin to study history, but we shall take it up in an easy, enjoyable way. I shall read to you from a finely written volume which I own, while you will try to write, from memory, what I have read.”
“What did I tell you?” whispered Reginald. “NowI guess you'll hear 'bout folks with their heads off!”
Katie put her hands over her ears, but Reginald's eyes were twinkling with delight. The girls would have to admit that his scrap of news was true!
As they hastened down the long avenue after school, he again asked his question:
“Say, girls! What did I say?”
“You said we'd got to learn horrid things, and Aunt Charlotte didn't say so,” said Mollie.
“I know she didn't, but Bob did, and you wait,” was the quick reply.
“I'lltell you something that you'd hardly believe, but it'strue,” said Mollie; “it's somebody that's coming right here to Merrivale to live.”
“Is it somebody you know?” Dorothy asked.
Mollie laughed.
“Somebody weallknow,” she said.
“Is she nice? Do we like her?” Nina questioned.
“I'll tell you who it is, and then you'll know whether you're glad or not,” said Mollie.
She had been walking backward, and in front of her playmates, and thus she could watch their faces. She looked at them an instant, then she said:
“It's—Patricia Lavine!”
The little group stood stock still, and it was quite evident that not one of the party was delighted.
Nancy was the first to speak.
“Are yousure, Mollie?” she asked.
“She said so,” Mollie replied. “I was running across the lawn to call for Flossie, when I heard some one call:
“‘Mollie! Mollie! Mollie Merton!’
“I turned, and there was Patricia running up the walk. You know she was always in a rush, and she's just the same now.
“‘I can't stop but a minute,’ she said, ‘but I've just time to tell you that we've been hunting houses, and we're coming here to live. We've got a house right next to the big schoolhouse, and that's nice, for I wouldn't want to go to private school.’
“Then she ran off, just looking over her shoulder to say:
“‘I've got to hurry, for I've an engagement, but I'll be over to see you all soon.’”
“I wish shewouldn't,” said Reginald, stoutly.
“Perhaps she's pleasanter than when she lived here before,” ventured Flossie, looking up into the faces of her playmates.
Dear little girl, the youngest of the group, she was ever ready to say a kind word for an absent playmate.
“Shelookedjust the same,” said Mollie.
“If she said she was to live next to the big schoolhouse, that is justmilesfrom here,” Jeanette said, “so she wouldn't be likely to come over here very often.”
“'Tisn't any farther than where she lived before,” said Nina, “and she came often enough then.”
Aunt Charlotte had chosen wisely, when she had decided to interest her young pupils in history, by reading aloud from a volume in which the facts were set forth in story form, and there was one pupil who listened more intently than any of the others.
One glance at Reginald's earnest little face would have convinced any one that he was wildly interested.
His round, blue eyes never left Aunt Charlotte's face while she was reading. The story of Ponce de Leon's search for the fountain of youth was more exciting than any fairy tale that he had ever heard. He saw no pathos in the old Spaniard's useless search. The picture which the history painted for him showed only the little band of swarthy men following their handsome, white-haired leader through the wild, unexplored South, their picturesque, gaily colored costumes gleaming in the sunlight.
How brilliant the pageant! How brave, how valiant they must have appeared! Even the gorgeous wild flowers paled with chagrin as the bold, venturesome Spaniards trampled them underfoot as they marched steadily onward, hoping yet to find the crystal fountain which should grant to them eternal youth.
When Aunt Charlotte ceased reading, she said:
“Now, take your pencils, and write all that you remember of what I have read.”
How their pencils flew! In a short time their papers were ready, and the little pupils proved that they had been attentive, many of the sketches giving the story almost word for word. Of course the older girls had written most accurately, but a few lines which little Flossie Barnet had written showed her tender, loving heart.
“I'm sorry for the poor old Spanyard, for a fountane like that wouldn't beanywhere, so I wish he and his brave men had sailed across the sea and land to hunt for something that he could truly find.”
Some faulty spelling, but no error in the loving, tender heart. The pathos of the story had touched her.
Reginald was but a few months older than Flossie, but he was not sensitive, and only the adventure, the beauty described appealed to him. He looked at Flossie in surprise when she had finished reading her little sketch, and wondered that she could see anything pathetic in the tale.
Then he rose to read his own effort at story-telling.
“They tramped and tramped for miles through the trees and swamps, and I'd like to have worn a red velvet coat and hunt for that fountane, for if we hadn't found it we'd have had a jolly hunt. I'd like to have worn a red velvet coat and a big hat with fethers on it, and a pare of boots with big tops to them. We could have tramped better with those big boots and all those fine things on.”
A droll idea, truly. No wonder that the girls laughed at the vanity which Reginald had so innocently betrayed.
“Where did you get your description of his costume?” Aunt Charlotte asked. She could not help smiling.
“From a painting in my uncle's hall,” said Reginald, promptly, “and when I told him that I wished that men wore clothes like that now, he just laughed, and said he thought those huge, long-plumed hats would be an awful nuisance.”
The older girls were soon to study English history, and they felt very important indeed.
“We're bigger than Flossie and Katie and Reginald,” said Jeanette, “so we are to have an extra study.”
“We wouldn't want what you're going to have,” Reginald said, “for it's just horrid. I told you my brother Bob said it was all full of chopping folks' heads off, and you didn't believe it, Jeanette Earl, but you'll find out it's so; you see 'f you don't.”
Flossie slipped her hand into Reginald's, as if for protection.
“We wouldn't like to study it,” she said, “and we won't like to hear it, but we'll have to when they say their lessons.”
Dorothy and Nancy had been obliged to hurry home from school. They were to drive with Mrs. Dainty and Aunt Charlotte, and Mrs. Dainty had told them to be prompt.
Flossie and Reginald lingered after the others had gone. He gathered some blossoming weeds which grew near the cottage, thinking thus to cheer her, and to turn her mind from the hated English history.
She took the flowers, and for a time she laughed and talked so brightly that she seemed her sunny self.
He was just thinking how happy she looked when suddenly she leaned toward him, and said earnestly:
“Do you s'pose Bob was mistaken?”
Reginald hesitated. He ardently admired Bob, but he also cared for dear little Flossie, and longed to please her, so after a pause he said:
“My big brother knows'most everything, but justp'r'apshe might have been mistaken.”
It was not much comfort, but it was better than if Reginald had insisted that Bob's knowledge was absolute.
As Mrs. Dainty's carriage bowled along the avenue, the trees seemed ablaze with autumn splendor, for the leaves that danced in the sunlight were scarlet and gold, and the sunbeams flickered and shimmered like merry elves.
The light breeze tossed the plumes on Dorothy's hat, and blew her golden curls about her lovely little face.
She leaned back in the carriage and laid her hand in Nancy's. Nancy's fingers were quick to clasp Dorothy's, and for a time they sat listening to what Mrs. Dainty and Aunt Charlotte Grayson were saying.
Then something made Nancy turn. A little figure was mincing along the avenue; its shoes had very high heels, its stockings were pink, and its dress a bright green. A showy hat with many-colored flowers crowned its head, and as the carriage passed it waved a lace handkerchief, thus setting her many bangles tinkling.
“ThatwasPatricia Lavine,” said Nancy; “Mollie Merton said she saw her just a few days ago.”
“O dear!” said Dorothy, “and it's not nice to say that when Patricia has just come back here to live, but truly she wasn't pleasant.”
“I don't wonder you said, ‘O dear,’ for wherever she was, she made somebody uncomfortable,” Nancy said, which was indeed true.
Patricia was not wholly at fault. She dearly loved anything that was showy, and her mother, who was a very ignorant woman, was quite as fond of display.
She had never taught her little daughter to be kind or courteous, but instead had laughed at her pert ways, and thought them amusing.
Patricia hastened along the avenue as fast as her little steeple heels would permit, and when she saw Flossie and Reginald, she rushed toward them, assuring them that sheneverhad been so glad to see any one before.
Neither Flossie nor Reginald could say that they were quite as pleased, but Patricia did not wait for them to speak.
“We've been living in N' York,” she said, “but we're going to live here now, an' we've got a el'gant house right next the schoolhouse. Ma says it's one of the finest houses in Merrivale, an' I guess—”
“If it's next to the schoolhouse it's the one where our cook's brother lives,” remarked Reginald. “He lives on the first floor, and the man that drives the water-cart lives just over him.”
Patricia was annoyed. She had wished them to think that the entire house had been engaged for her own small family.
Her cheeks were flushed, but she made the best of the situation, and at once commenced to tell of the beauties of the flat.
“We lived in a great big hotel in N' York,” she said, “but ma says this flat is handsomer than the one what we had at the hotel. Ma says I can give a party this winter, if I want to. Of course I'll inviteallmy N' York friends, but I shall only ask the girls here that have been nice to me, and I don't think I shall askanyboys at all.”
She cast a withering glance at Reginald, who whistled softly. Then he made a naughty reply.
“P'r'aps the boys wouldn't come if you asked them,” he said.
“Oh, Reginald!” said Flossie.
“Well, she said a mean thing 'bout not inviting boys, else I wouldn't have said it. I wouldn't speak like that to you or Dorothy, or any of the nice girls I know.”
“There were nice boys in N' York,” snapped Patricia. “I didn't see a boy while I was there who wasn'tverynice.”
In the great hall, at the Barnet house, the butler stood puzzling over the letters which the postman had left.
He dared not meddle with them, but he paused for a moment to study them as they lay upon his salver, while he wondered if the handwriting upon either envelope were in the least familiar.
The little French maid, peering over the baluster, laughed softly.
“M'sieur is curious, but he should not delay. The lettairs, it may be, of importance are, and the madam already waiting is.”
With a soft, yet merry laugh, the maid returned to dress her mistress's hair, and the burly butler stalked up the stairway, angry that Marie should have seen him studying the letters, and annoyed by her saucy laugh.
“That girl is always 'round,” he muttered.
It was Saturday morning, and although it was October, it was as warm as a June day.
Mrs. Barnet was in the hands of the French maid, and could not be disturbed while her hair was being dressed.
Flossie wondered what she could find to play with.
She wished that Saturday had been a schoolday.
Usually she found the baby amusing, but Uncle Harry's little daughter was out for an airing.
The kitten skurried down the hall and Flossie caught her, and ran off to the music-room.
She managed to clamber up on to the stool with pussy in her arms, and reached for the music, which she opened.
“Now that's averynice song, kitty,” she said, “but you needn't sing it; you can just practise the 'comfrement. Now one, two, three, begin!”
She held the kitten's paws, and forced them to press the keys.
“Me-u! Me-u!” squeaked wee pussy.
“You going to sing and play, too? Why, that's fine,” said Flossie, “only you don't get the tune right.”
“Me-u! Me-u!” wailed the white kitten.
“Now pussy darling, you're real sweet totry, but you don't sing the tune right; it didn't sound likethatwhen Uncle Harry sang it last night. We'll sing it together, and maybe you'll learn it. Put your left paw ondo, and your right paw onmi; now sing.”
'Put your left paw on _do_, and your right paw on _mi_; now sing.'“Put your left paw ondo, and your right paw onmi; now sing.”
What a droll duet it was! Franz Abt's beautiful song was never before thus rendered.
“I love thee, dearest, thee alone,Love thee, and only thee!”
sang Flossie, while little pussy, regardless of time or sentiment, sang “me-u! me-ow!me-u!me-u!”
“Our voices don'thar-mer-lize, pussy, I know they don't. You'll just have to practise alone. That's what Mollie Merton's mamma said last night when Uncle Harry and Aunt Vera sang together. She said: ‘Oh, how beautifully their voiceshar-mer-lize.’ Now that's just what our voicesdon'tdo, so I'll put you right on to the keys, and you can practise the'comfrementalone.”
Flossie ran to the window to see if any of her playmates were in sight, while the kitten, left to amuse herself, walked slowly across the keyboard, and sat down upon the lower bass notes.
The French maid paused in the doorway.
“Ah, it is the petite beast that the bad music makes. I will the feline terrible remove, before she more mischief does do.”
“Don't take the kitten out, Marie,” cried Flossie, “I'm making her practise her lesson.”
“Eh, bien! In this great mansion where all do so much learning have, even the petite cat must an education get! What more astounding could one behold?”
“I want to make her learn the song Uncle Harry sang last night. Did you hear him sing, Marie? Wasn't his voice sweet?”
“Ah, well did I the music hear. The sweet sounds did up the stairway float, and I did say: ‘He is one beau gallant! His voice the rock would melt! Many hearts he must broken have before he loved Madame Vera who now his wife is.’”
“I don't know what you mean, Marie,” Flossie said, “but I do know Ilovehim, and I love to hear him sing.”
“Oh, I could listen the day and the night when he music makes,” the maid replied, and Flossie was satisfied.
A moment later Mollie, in great excitement, ran over to call for Flossie.
“Oh, do you know, Dorothy's mamma told my mamma that there's to be a great party at the stone house, and all of Dorothy's friends are to be invited. Now aren't you glad I came over to tell you?”
“When is it to be? I guess I am glad, Mollie Merton, and so will everybody be. When is the party to be?” she repeated, her blue eyes shining, and her little feet restlessly dancing.
“I don't know just when, but I guess it's pretty soon, and it's to be different from any party we ever went to. I don't know justhowdifferent; that part is a secret, but we are to know as soon as the invitations are ready.”
“Oh, we'mostcan't wait,” said Flossie.
Of course the delightful news travelled, and by Monday morning every child in town knew that there was to be a grand party at the great stone house, but no one could find out just what sort of party it was to be. Even Dorothy could not enlighten them.
“It's to be fine,” she said, “and different from any party I ever had, but mamma doesn't wish me to tell anything about it.”
“Won't she let you tell Nancy?” questioned Katie Dean.
“Nancy knowsnow!” declared Reginald; “just look at her!”
Indeed Nancy's dark eyes were merry, and her voice rippled with laughter, as she said:
“Idoknow, and I'm going to keep the secret, but it's the hardest one I ever tried to keep.”
At recess they walked arm-in-arm, talking of the party instead of playing games. They were chattering so gaily that they heard no one approach, and when suddenly Patricia Lavine peeped over the wall, they were startled, and wondered how she could have appeared without any one having seen her coming.
“Why, Patricia! Where'd you come from?” said Mollie.
“Oh, I was walking along and came over because I heard you talking. Whose party is it going to be?” she asked.
“Dorothy is to have the party,” said Jeanette, “but why aren't you in school?”
“Why aren'tyou?” Patricia asked with a saucy laugh.
“It's recess time atourschool,” said Nina.
“Well, it's recess time atours, too,” Patricia replied.
“But you're a long way from your school,” Reginald said.
“Am I?” queried Patricia, “well, I don't have to go to school every single day, assomefolks do,” she retorted.
“I know 'most all the tables now, and I know a little geog-er-fry, and 'most half of the history, 'cause some of it I learned when I was in N' York. We had a el'gant school there, and ma says I learned so much that I needn't go to school every day now.”
Little Flossie looked quite impressed, but the older girls were not so sure that Patricia had gained so much knowledge.
No one spoke, and Patricia thought that they were all much surprised at what she had said.
“There's to be visitors at our school to-day, and teacher said she was going to let them ask questions,” she continued.
“Guess you stayed away so as not to tell all you know,” said Reginald.
Katie nudged him sharply, but he only twitched away, laughing because Patricia looked angry.
The little silver bell tinkled, and they turned to enter the cottage.
“Good-by,” they called to Patricia, who stood at the gate.
“Good-by,” she replied, then looking over her shoulder, she said:
“I'm glad I don't have to go to private school; it's too stupid.”
“The horrid, rude girl,” whispered Nina Earl, but Arabella surprised them all by saying:
“I think I'd like that Patricia What's-her-name; she isn't like everybody else.”
Reginald heard what Arabella said, and in a loud whisper informed her that he wouldn't go to school ifallthe girls were like Patricia.
Arabella would have answered him sharply, but they were entering the schoolroom, so she was obliged to be silent.
Later, when they were asked to write upon the little blackboard, Arabella looked for a chance to tease Reginald.
“If he does anything that I can laugh at, I'll laugh till he's mad as a hornet,” she whispered.
It happened that Reginald was the first to go to the board.
Aunt Charlotte asked for a sentence which should contain but five words, and yet tell a bit of news.
Every hand was raised.
Dorothy intended to write: “Nancy is a true friend,” while Nancy thought that this would be interesting: “Dorothy will have a party,” but Reginald felt sure that he had thought of the smartest sentence, and his face beamed with delight when he was told that he might write it.
He glanced toward Arabella as he strutted to the blackboard, and boldly he wrote:
“Phido has a new collar.”
It was funny, and Reginald wondered why even Aunt Charlotte looked amused. Every one knew Fido, and only that morning the little dog had followed Reginald and Katie half-way to school, the bell on his new collar tinkling all the way.
That Reginald should have spelled the name “Phido” made them laugh, but Arabella was not contented with laughing; she fairly shouted.
“Well, I don't care if you do laugh,” he said, his eyes blazing as he looked at her; “you spell photo, justp-h-o,and why can't Fido be speltP-h-i?”
When the room was again quiet Aunt Charlotte told Reginald and Arabella to remain for a few moments after school.
When the other pupils had gone, Aunt Charlotte turned toward the two who still kept their seats, and very gently she told Arabella how rude it was to laugh at another's error, and how equally rude for Reginald to reply in so saucy a manner.
“A little girl should be a little lady,” she said, “and a small boy should surely be a little gentleman.”
Then Reginald spoke.
Looking straight into Arabella's eyes, he said:
“I guess I'm a gentleman, so I'll 'pol'gize; if I was just a boy Iwouldn't,though.”
Arabella was fully equal to a reply.
“I'm as much a lady as you are a gentleman, so I'll say I oughtn't to have laughed, but Iwon'tsay I'm sorry.”
It was late afternoon, and Flossie, on the piazza, waved her hand to her playmates as they ran down the walk to the gate.
They had played delightful games, they had talked of the fine party which they would soon enjoy, they had guessed and guessed what sort of party it was to be, and Dorothy, who knew all about it, had laughed merrily because their countless guesses were nowhere near right.
“I wish playmates didn't ever have to go home,” said Flossie, as she ran into the house.
There was no one in the hall save the baby, who sat in her carriage. The maid had just brought her in from a long ride, and had left her for a moment while she chatted with the butler and the cook. Flossie loved the baby, and she ran to the carriage to kiss the sunny little face that smiled at her.
“Oh, you lovely, lovely baby,” she cried, “are you glad to see me?”
For answer the little one cooed sweetly, and snatched at Flossie's curling hair.
“Mustn't pull so hard, baby,” pleaded Flossie, and just at that moment the maid returned, and rescued Flossie's ringlets from the little dimpled hands.
“You give her to me,” said Flossie. “I'll sit on this rug and hold her. Uncle Harry said I could take this baby any time I want to, and I want to now.”
The maid waited for no urging. Here was a chance for a few more moments of gossip. If Miss Flossie wished to take care of the baby, why not permit her to? Her Uncle Harry had given his permission, and as it was his baby, who could object?
For a few moments Flossie and the baby played upon the great hall rug. The bright-colored ball which Flossie had taken from her pocket was a pretty plaything, and the baby crowed with delight.
The butler and the maids were in the butler's pantry at the rear of the hall, but while their voices could be plainly heard. Flossie noticed nothing which they said until the maid spoke of the baby.
“She ees well, the petite belle, but upon her cheek the, what ees eet the doctaire did say?”
“Sure, Marie, 'tis a ould-fashioned rash, an' manny's the toime Oive seen ut on a babby's face, an' whoile the docthor makes a fuss about it, it's just nothin' at all, at all,” responded Bridget.
“I'm thinkin' it don't pay to let it go an' not have the doctor see about it,” growled the butler in a deep bass voice.
“An' ain't they seein' about it wid all their eyes, the ould docthor a-peekin' at the swate little thing t'rough his goggles, an' puttin' a wee bit t'ermom'ter into her mouth what for I do' 'no' unless 'tis ter foind out if it's near toime fer her ter be a-talkin'.”
“He's very ugly, le m'sieur doctaire; if he was fine to behold it would be well. And what said he of the child? That at home she could not remain? If they do away take her M'sieur Harry will weep his fine eyes out.”
“Oh, you little Frenchie!” exclaimed the butler with a jolly laugh, “you get things mixed. If it's nothing but a rash, as Bridget says, she'll stay here, but if it's measles she'll be hurried off up-stairs, and—”
“An' bequarantained, Oim tould,” interrupted Bridget.
“Oh, Breejhay, whateesthat?” cried the little French maid, and Flossie waited to hear no more.
Quarantined!Oh, what a big word, and whatdidit mean? Who was going to dothatto dear Uncle Harry's baby?
Noone! She would not let them!
Quickly she gathered the wee mite in her arms, wrapped the warm little cloak around her, and walking softly to the door, slipped out, the baby nestled close in her arms.
Across the lawn she trudged, past the summer-house, and on to the little clump of trees and shrubs which the children called the grove.
In a little nook between the tall hedge and the shrubbery she sat down, and took the baby on her lap. Fortunately it had no idea of crying; she loved Flossie, and she cooed contentedly.
And now the shadows were long, and the light breeze, growing stronger, swept in little chilly gusts across the treetops, and searching lower, tossed the small shrubs as if trying to discover Flossie's hiding-place.
She drew the baby's cloak closer around it, and bending lower, kissed it, and whispered lovingly:
“You're all safe with me, for I won't let that old doctorquantineyou. You're Uncle Harry's own baby, and I won't let anybody hurt you.”
At the Barnet house all was excitement. Servants were rushing this way and that, searching for Flossie and the baby.
Again and again the maid insisted that she had left them in the hall but a few moments, and the cook and the butler declared that she had spoken truly, yet it seemed strange that in so short a time the two could have so completely disappeared.
In the midst of the excitement Uncle Harry came home, and he looked very grave when he learned the cause of their alarm.
Yes, the house and grounds had been thoroughly searched, they told him, and neither could be found, nor could any one remember having seen them after the baby had been brought in from her ride.
And while the other members of the household were searching in every direction, Uncle Harry secured a lantern, and went out into the shadowy garden, hoping that he might, in some forgotten corner, find the two children whom he so dearly loved.
Around the house, along the driveway toward the stable, down a little path to where the tall dahlias nodded; across the lawn to the open space where the new moon spread its sheen, then toward the shrubbery and the hedge.
Flossie saw the gleam of the bright lantern through the bushes, and huddled closer to the little shrubs. She believed that it was the butler who carried the lantern, and that he had been sent to capture the baby.
“Hush, hush—sh—sh!” she whispered, patting its shoulder gently.
It had no idea of crying, but she was so afraid that it might, and thus tell where they were hiding. It happened that the baby was sleepy, and snug and warm in Flossie's loving arms, it was quite content.
Nearer, and yet nearer came the light! Now it was going farther from her,—now returning, and now, oh, she must hold her breath!
A firm step trampled the underbrush, the lantern was swung high, and the two runaways were discovered. With a sob Flossie clasped the infant closer, hiding its face with her own.
“You sha'n't have this baby!” she cried, “for I won't let you! Nobody shall touch my Uncle Harry's baby; nobody's going toquantineher. I'm 'fraid out here, but I'll stay to take care of his own baby!”
“Flossie! Flossie, little girl, who has frightened you? Why are you hiding out here with the baby?”
“Go away!” she cried, holding the baby closer, “they've sent you to find us, but you don't know that they're going toquantinethis baby, but I'll never let them do it.”
“Flossie, Flossie, you're frightened, listen to me.”
He put the lantern down, and seating himself upon the grass, placed his strong arm around Flossie, drawing the two closer as if to protect them.
“Theyaregoing toquantinethis baby!” she cried, “and they sha'n't cut her head off 'cause there's spots on her face. She's your baby, and oh, Iloveyou both!”
The wild note in her voice showed how genuine was her terror.
“Nobody shall harm baby, I promise you that, dear,” said Uncle Harry, an odd quiver in his voice, “and you were a dear little girl to take care of her for me, but now I must take you both up to the house, for every one is hunting for you.”
“But Bridget said they'd have to quantine,”—sobbed Flossie.
“Bridget was mistaken,” he said, “and besides, no one is harmed by being quarantined. I'll tell you all about that at another time. You are about chilled through, and as you're not very huge, I guess I'll carry you both.”
There was no help for it, so Flossie laid her head upon his shoulder, the baby, sound asleep, still in her arms, and Uncle Harry strode across the lawn, up to the piazza, and into the hall, where a frightened group were talking.
They crowded around him to learn where he had found them, but he raised his hand to stop the eager questioning.
Flossie had been badly frightened, and he felt that she must not be excited.
Once in her own little room with her mother bending over her, she listened eagerly while Uncle Harry explained what the maids had meant, and she sighed happily when she at last realized that the baby was safe from harm, and that she would remain right under the roof of their beautiful home.
When on the following day the old doctor called to see the baby, he laughed heartily at the story of Flossie's fear, and he declared that Flossie must have done a very fine thing for the baby. Its little pink cheeks were fair, and the tiny spots which had so frightened its young mother had been chased away, so the doctor said, by its long stay out in the evening air.
“Then Ididdo something nice for that baby,” said Flossie, to which Uncle Harry responded:
“You were a brave little niece, Flossie,” and Flossie was happy.
When the postman called on the morning of the next day, he brought an invitation for the long-dreamed-of party.
Then the secret was out as to what kind of party it was to be.
A fancy dress party! A costume carnival!
Of course the first question that each little friend asked of the other was:
“What are you going to wear?”
“Why, our prettiest party dresses, of course,” said Mollie Merton.
Mollie, who was always very positive, was greatly surprised when Dorothy overtook them on the way to school, and explained that each little guest was expected to appear in a costume which should represent some well-known character in history or story.
“And mamma says we are not to tell each other what we're going to be,” said Dorothy; “we're to wear long dominoes over our frocks, and we'll dance and play games, just peeping through eyeholes to see where we're going.”
“And nobody'll know who anybody is,” chimed in Nancy, “for Mrs. Dainty and Aunt Charlotte will receive, and Dorothy will walk up to greet them, so neither of us will even know who Dorothy is.”
“What fun!” cried Jeanette, and the little group laughed gaily.
“Any boys besides me invited?” questioned Reginald.
“Yes, indeed, there are ever so many boys invited,” Dorothy said. “My cousins Russell and Arthur are coming, and three of papa's nephews will be here. I've never met them, but they're coming for a little visit of a few days, and I'm to have my party while they're here.”
“If you girls are going to wear those funny long cloaks, of course they'll hide who you are, but you'll every one of you know us fellows,” said Reginald, who felt that the girls were more favored.
“Indeed, we won't know you,” laughed Dorothy, “for papa insists that you boys must wear dominoes, too.”
“Hurrah for us, I say!” shouted Reginald; “we'll have as much fun as you girls will.”
“And we've two weeks to wait,” said Katie Dean, “and all that time we're not to tell what we're to be.”
“Nor even the color of our dominoes,” said Jeanette.
“I sha'n't tell what I'm to be,” Reginald proudly said, “but some of you girls will justhaveto tell; girls can't keep a secret.”
“We can keep a secret, Reginald Dean,” said Mollie, to which Flossie chimed in:
“Yes, indeed we can. Ican'ttell what I'm to be, because I don't know; mamma hasn't told me, but Idoknow what color I'm to wear, and I won't tell that!”
Reginald liked to tease.
“Somebody'll tell something, see 'f they don't!” he said, nodding and laughing.
It was now just a week from the day set for the party.
Arabella, hurrying along the avenue, tried to thrust her arms into the sleeves of her jacket.
“O dear! I shouldn't think this jacket had any armholes!” she cried impatiently.
She had hurried out before Aunt Matilda could stop her, and she was trying to get her jacket on without pausing to do so. At last her arms were in her sleeves, and she looked ahead to see if any one was in sight.
“She'll be awful cross if I'm late,” thought Arabella, and she tried to run even faster.
There were two reasons for Arabella's haste. The first was that she had promised to meet Patricia, and the second reason was that it was Saturday morning, and if she remained at home Aunt Matilda would be sure to find something for her to do. Of course Aunt Matilda would ask where she had been, and why she had run out so early, and oh, no end of questions!
“It'll be by-'m-bye when Aunt Matilda questions me,” whispered Arabella, adding cheerfully: “and by-'m-bye isn'tnow.”
“Hello!” called Patricia, “you're some late, but notvery.”
“Why, I'm here as soon as you are,” said Arabella.
“I know that,” Patricia replied, “but I thought you'd be over to my house by this time.”
“Aren't we 'most there?” questioned Arabella.
“Almost, and not quite,” said Patricia, “and anyway I was going to stop at a store before I go over to my house. Ma gave me some money and I'm going to spend it for candy. Have you got any to spend?”
Arabella shook her head.
“Aunt Matilda won't let me spend money; she has her views about folks spending money, she says.”
“I wouldn't want her formyaunt,” said Patricia.
“Well, she isn't your aunt,” snapped Arabella, and now they had reached the little candy store, and Patricia, grasping Arabella's hand, walked boldly in.
Arabella was greatly impressed, and when Patricia asked her which kind she would like to have, she managed to just whisper thatanykind would do.
At Arabella's home Aunt Matilda reigned supreme, and it was said that no one, not even Mr. Corryville, dared spend any money, unless Aunt Matilda approved, but that might not be true.
Arabella thought it very grand that Patricia had enough money to buy whatever she wished, and her surprise increased when she chose a half-pound of two different kinds, ordering the clerk to put them in separate papers.
“You can have that bundle, and I'll have this,” said Patricia, as they left the store, “and now we'll go over to my house, it's that one next to the school.”
Arabella looked toward the house at which Patricia pointed. It did not look at all like the homes of her other friends. Patricia rang the bell, and they heard the lock slip, then they commenced to mount the stairs. The building was four stories high, and Patricia lived on the top floor.
“We like the top floor because it's so airy,” she said.
Arabella said nothing, but when they were seated cosily in the corners of an old sofa, each with her package of candy, Arabella was glad that she had come.
A few moments later Patricia's mother entered. She was showily dressed, and her many pieces of jewelry made Arabella stare. She did not know that those glittering rings and bangles were worth very little money.
“Now, Patricia, you know I don't like to have you buy so much candy,” whined Mrs. Lavine.
“I haven'tmuchcandy,” replied Patricia, “that Arabella's got belongs to her.”
Arabella looked quickly at Patricia. Was not that a sort of fib? Patricia had notsaidthat Arabella had bought her package of candy, but she had certainly intended her mother to think so.
Mrs. Lavine took a book from the table, and sat down by the window to read.
Soon Patricia became restless.
“Let's go out again,” she said, and in a few moments they were running down the stairs, and out into the street.
“I've got a little more money, and we'll have some ice cream,” said Patricia.
Arabella wondered where she got her money, but dared not ask her, and while she was thinking about it Patricia spoke.
“I asked you over to my house because I think I'd like you for my best friend,” she said, “and because I've got something to tell you.”
Arabella stared at her through her glasses, but she said nothing.
“You're sort of old-fashioned,” Patricia continued, “but I guess we can play together nicely, and you needn't be provoked at what I said, for we're going to have a secret the very first thing, and I'll tell it to you when we're having our ice cream.”
They entered a tiny store which the sign stated was an “Ice Cream Parlor.” There was room for but three little tables, but Arabella thought it quite grand, for the wall-paper was covered with gaudy flowers, and the ice cream was very pink.
They took tiny sips that the treat might last longer, and Arabella watched Patricia, and waited to hear what she had to tell.
At last Patricia lost patience.
“Why don't you ask what the secret is?” she asked.
“Why don't you tell it if it's worth telling?” Arabella asked, coolly.
“Iguessit's worth telling,” said Patricia. “Say, you'll be at Dorothy Dainty's party, won't you?”
“Of course I'll be there; my costume is 'most done.”
“What's it going to be?”
“Why, don't you remember we are not to tell any one what we are to wear; not even the color of our dominoes?” Arabella asked in surprise.
“Well, we didn't promise not to tell,” said Patricia, “and, anyway, I'm going to tell you. Ma has made me a Spanish dress, all spangles, and red ribbons, and gold tinsel, and my domino that will cover it for the first of the evening will be bright yellow! I've told you, Arabella Corryville, because now you'll know which I am, as soon as you see me, and you'll be just mean if you don't tell me now what you're going to wear.”
Arabella hesitated.
“Dorothy wouldn't like to have us tell,” she said.
“Well, we needn't tell her we told, and what aboutme? Here I've treated you to candy and ice cream, and told you all about my costume. If you were half-nice, you'd think yououghtto tell me about yours.”
Patricia's voice sounded grieved, and Arabella wavered.
Ought she to tell? She knew she ought not, but Patricia urged again.
“And I was going to say we could each wear a blue ribbon on the third buttonhole of our dominoes, so we'd know each other the minute we got there. And, say,” she continued, “have you ever been all over the stone house?”
“Not in every room,” said Arabella.
“Have you been in the observatory?”
“Thewhat?” asked Arabella.
Patricia was sure that she had made a mistake.
“The room where the flowers are?” she said.
“Oh, theconservatory, you mean,” Arabella said, grandly. “No, I haven't been in there, but I've seen the flowers from the doorway, and they're lovely.”
“Well, they're twice as lovely when you're right in the room with them. Iknow, because I've been in there!” said Patricia.
“When?” queried Arabella.
“The last time I was there,” Patricia replied, “andnowI'll tell you something; there's something in that room that I know about, and not another girl knows it but me. I won't tell you what it is now, but at the party I'll do better thantellyou; I'llshowyou. We'll go out into the hall when nobody is looking at us, and we'll go into the what-you-call-it,—”
“The conservatory,” prompted Arabella.
“The conservatory,” repeated Patricia, “and then you'll seewhatyou'll see! Ipromiseto surprise you.”
“Don't you tell if I tell you,” said Arabella.
“No, 'ndeed,” Patricia agreed.
“Well, Aunt Matilda said she wouldn't let me wear anythingflighty, so she's made me a dress like a Puritan, and my domino is tan color.”
Arabella's curiosity forced her to tell all that Patricia longed to know, because she was simply wild to visit the conservatory, and find out what it was that Patricia could show.
With vows of secrecy they parted, Patricia walking slowly homeward; Arabella running all the way.
“Aunt Matilda'll say something, I guess, when she sees me,” she whispered as she ran, “First thing she'll ask where I've been, and oh, I never thought to take those horrid pills! The bottle is in my pocket, and I've eaten candy and ice cream! It's lucky she don't knowthat; if she did she'd say, 'I shouldn't wonder if that child had fits before morning!' She don't know it, and p'r'aps I won't have the fits.”
Lights blazed from every window of the stone house, the great garden was brilliantly lighted, even the twinkling stars overhead seemed brighter than usual, as if they knew of the party, and were laughing as they watched the little guests arriving.
Lightly they stepped from their carriages, and flew up the steps as if their feet had wings.
What was their surprise to see the manservant, at the door as usual, to be sure, but in a fine old suit of livery that made him look like an English serving-man of many, many years ago.
Yes, there was the maid in the hall in a cute Watteau costume, a tiny lace cap on her head, and a kerchief over her flowered gown. She presented her salver, and each little guest laid a card upon it, with the name of the character which she represented. These were merely to be kept as souvenirs, that later Dorothy might look them over, and see what a variety of noted personages had called to do her honor.
They were not to be announced, for while the names of the girls' costumes would not tellwhichgirl wore it, the characters that the boys took would of course be male personages.
So the little guests tripped through the great hall, and into the long drawing-room, where another surprise awaited them.
There stood handsome Mr. Dainty in royal robes, as a king, his beautiful wife in velvet and ermine as his queen, and gentle Aunt Charlotte as lady-in-waiting.
How quaint the little figures looked in their long, cloak-like dominoes of red, blue, pink, green, white, lilac, and indeed every known color and tint.
As they each extended a little hand, they peeped at host and hostess through the eyeholes in their dominoes, and if they were recognized, they did not know it.
Now and then a ripple of stifled laughter told how greatly they enjoyed their disguise.
When all had been greeted, Mrs. Dainty raised her sceptre, and when the little figures were all attention she spoke.
“Dear little subjects, we are happy to have you with us, and for a short time we wish you to wear the long dominoes which keep us guessing who you are. And now we will listen to some music, and while you listen you shall enjoy a wealth of royal bonbons.”
At a signal from the queen the little Watteau maid entered, followed by five other maids in similar costumes, each bearing trays of candies.
At the same moment sweet strains of music sounded through the room, coming from behind a group of palms and flowering plants.
The bonbons were delicious, and the merry music set little feet tapping beneath the long cloaks.
Two figures sat very close together. One wore a bright yellow cloak, the other domino was a quiet tan color. They were Arabella and Patricia, and while they sat eating their bonbons, they talked softly, that no one might hear them. A little figure in a long red cloak leaned against the wall, listening to the music, and at the same time watching the two who talked together.
It was Reginald who watched them, and his eyes twinkled as he whispered:
“I justknowthat those two are girls, and they've gone and told each other who they are.I'dlike to know who they are, too, and I guess I'll walk over there.”
He made his way across the room, and soon was standing just behind them.
The musicians were playing a sprightly polka. A triangle marked the measures, and Reginald's red shoe tapped the floor beneath his long red cloak.
The two who sat upon the divan were talking in what they thought to be a very low tone, but when suddenly the music ceased, Patricia's voice could be plainly heard,
“Why, Arabella!” she said, and then, surprised at hearing her own voice, she said no more.
Reginald laughed softly, and Patricia turned to look at him, but of course could not guess who the red-cloaked figure might be. Oh, it was fun to be hiding behind the gay-colored dominoes! It was almost like hide-and-seek.
And now the beautiful queen was speaking.
“We will have a pretty march now,” she said. “My king and I will lead, my lady-in-waiting will follow me, while you, my merry subjects, shall form, two by two, and march to grandest music. After the march, the dominoes shall be cast aside, and then—” she paused, then laughing gaily she concluded, “thenI shall know who my guests are.”
The trumpet's blare told all to be ready! The king and queen came down from their red velvet throne, the stately lady-in-waiting followed, and then the bright-hued figures, two by two, marched like a moving rainbow after the tall figures who led.
Around the great drawing-room in graceful figures the gorgeous little procession moved. How bright their colors appeared, the light shimmering upon a pink cloak beside a blue one, a green cloak walking with a yellow one, a scarlet one with a white, a buff one with bright cherry-hued domino!
But the greatest excitement came when, after the march, the colored cloaks were cast aside, and the laughing playmates were revealed.
“Did you know me?”
“Did you guess who I was?”
“Did you know you were talking to me?”
These were the questions which they asked each other, and the gracious king and queen looked down upon their merry courtiers, and admired their brilliant costumes.
And what a variety there was! First of all, Dorothy, as an elf in gauze and spangles, was a lovely sprite to look upon.
Near her stood Nancy, dressed as a shepherdess. Dorothy's cousin, Russell Dalton, made a charming page, while his sister, Aline, was a flower girl. Reginald strutted about in an early Spanish costume, and he had chosen his own dress.
“I can't look old enough for Ponce de Leon,” he had said, “but I want a suit like the one he wears in the painting that hangs in the hall.”
His wish had been granted, and he looked like a tiny cavalier about to sally forth in search of fortune, or undiscovered countries.
Mollie Merton made a pretty Red-riding-hood, while, as usual, close beside her, stood Flossie Barnet as Little Bo-Peep.
“Anybody'd know I'm Bo-peep, because I've this crook in my hand,” said Flossie, “but look at Nina and Jeanette; what are they?”
“We're Spring and Summer,” Jeanette answered with a laugh at Flossie's little puzzled face, “I am a rose, and she's a crocus,” she continued, “and have you seen Katie Dean yet? She's a lovely butterfly. There she is now.”
They all turned to look at Katie as she came toward them. She was indeed a dainty butterfly. Her frock of yellow gauze matched her wings, which were edged with gold, and as she ran toward them, she looked as if she might fly if she wished.
Arabella looked very demure as a little Puritan, and really, Patricia's showy Spanish costume was becoming.
There were many more guests, and all were in beautiful costumes. The room was alive with color, and when, later, they danced to merry music, it seemed, indeed, a joyous carnival.
The games came next, and how they played! And of all the games they found one very old one to be the most delightful. Some one asked if they might play it, and thus it happened that the king announced that the next would be “A Journey to Nubia.”
The maids entered, and quickly placed two rows of chairs, back to back, down the centre of the room, placingone lesschair than there were children.
When the music sounded they were to march around and around the rows of chairs, but when the music should stop abruptly, they must rush to get a seat. The one child who would be left standing must pay a forfeit.
A stirring march was played, and the children walked around the chairs, and every time that they came to the end of the line they paused, believing that the music would cease, but the musicians played on and on. The laughing children marched gaily, when, in the middle of a lively strain, the music stopped, and they rushed for seats.
It was Nancy who found no chair, and she knew that she must pay a forfeit.
“What shall I do?” she asked, and Russell, who liked Nancy, asked if he might set the task for her.
He was given permission, and turning to her he said: “I'll ask something, Nancy, that I know you can do. I'll beg you to dance for us.”
“Oh, you need not beg,” Nancy said sweetly, “if they will play a waltz, I'll gladly dance for you.”
Softly they played a bewitching melody, and Nancy, running out to an open space, danced till those who watched her were wild with delight. And when the dance was finished they crowded around her, crying in wonder:
“Oh, Nancy, how can you do it so gracefully?”
“You wouldn't wonder if you only knew how long I studied, and how many hours I practised,” she said.
“I couldn't dance like that if I practised for ten years,” said Russell.
“I don't believe he could,” laughed his sister Aline, “his talent is surely not for dancing, for only the other day he told me that at dancing-school, just as sure as he tried not to step on his partner's toes, he always trod on his own.”
“It's just what I do,” agreed Russell, joining in the laughter that greeted Aline's words.
Again and again they marched around the double row of chairs, and each time the one caught standing was made to pay a forfeit, to the delight of all the others.
For the next game they clasped hands and formed a great ring. Dorothy, in the centre, extended her arms as she sang this verse:
“As around you gaily dance,I must see if, just by chance,In your ring which has no end,You do hold my dearest friend.Yes, my truest friend I see,Nancy, dearest, come to me.”
Nancy ran into the circle, and the others, clasping hands, danced around them singing gaily:
“See the happy, merry two,One with brown eyes, one with blue,One is dark and one is fair,Which of us will join them there?”
It was Nancy's turn now to choose a friend from the ring, and she at once chose Flossie.
Flossie was the youngest of the little guests, and she was delighted to be so soon chosen.
Unnoticed by the children, several new arrivals had entered the room. They were a few of Mrs. Dainty's nearest neighbors who had been invited to come in during the evening and see the merrymaking.
As Flossie stood in the centre of the ring with Dorothy and Nancy, she looked toward the playmates who circled around them, and was about to choose Mollie, when she spied Uncle Harry, and she laughed with delight. He was dressed as an English squire of an early century. Quickly she whispered to Dorothy.
“May I, oh,mayI?” she asked.
“Yes, oh,do,” laughed Dorothy.
“I choose you, Uncle Harry,” she cried, “oh, come quick.”
Never too dignified to have a bit of fun, and always ready to please the children, he hurried forward and entered the ring.
“As if I'd lose a moment in joining three such charming young ladies,” he said, while the laughing children danced yet faster around the merry four.
How handsome he looked as he stood among his little friends. A brave, athletic young man he was, with a heart full of love for the children, who returned his affection with interest.
“Now, Uncle Harry, it's your turn to sing,” said Flossie. “Do you know the verse you ought to sing?”
“I don't believe I do know the one which belongs in this game, but I'll sing one of my own,” he said with a laugh.
“You are so charming, all in a ring,Hardly I know of which siren to sing,Yet if Imustchoose, then it shall beMollie, bright Mollie to come unto me.”
His was a fine voice, and he sang his improvised verse to the music of one of his favorite songs, “Beautiful Dreamer.”
“Oh, I wish you had to sing ever so many verses,” Jeanette said impulsively, and he bowed to her earnestly spoken compliment.
They had paused for a moment to rest, and for a time their hands were unclasped. Patricia thought that this was just her chance. She touched Arabella's arm.
“Come,” she whispered, and Arabella followed.
It happened that no one noticed that the two had left their playmates, and soon they were flying around in a circle, singing their verses, and choosing as before.
The conservatory was brightly lighted, and the perfume of the flowers was rich and heavy. The fountain plashed in its shallow basin, and it seemed like a glimpse of fairyland. Patricia looked about to see if any one had followed them, but no one was near.
“Now this is what I'm going to show you,” she said. “You see that one lovely fountain?”
Oh, yes, Arabella saw that.
“Well, there'stwofountains, andIknow where the other one is. I'll let you try to find it first, and if you can't find it, I'll show it to you.”
“How doyouknow where it is?” questioned Arabella.
Patricia looked very important.
“I know, because Idoknow,” she said.
Arabella looked into this corner, and peeped into that, and between them they managed to tip over some small pots of valuable plants, but the music and laughter in the drawing-room prevented any sounds in the conservatory from being heard. At last Arabella was disgusted.
“I don't believe there's two fountains,” she said.
“Then I'llshowyou,” said Patricia, “and I'll tell you how I know. Just see here,” and she pointed to the jet of water which flew high in air, letting fall a veil of mist and spray.
“That's where the butler turns the water on to set the fountain playing. I was in here once when I saw him turn that little thing round, and I saw the water fly right up in a minute.”
Arabella watched Patricia closely.
“But where's theotherfountain?” she asked impatiently.
“Oh, you'll see in a second. Come over here,” Patricia said, laughing softly.
'There! that's another fountain.'“There! that's another fountain.”
“There!” she said, pointing to a pipe that ran along the floor beneath a shelf filled with flowering plants; “that'sanotherfountain, and I should think they'd have both playing when they have a party.”
“That'snota fountain!” said Arabella.
“Well, I guess I know, and so will you in a second, for I'm going to set it going. See here!”
“Fizz-z-sss!”
A cloud of steam filled the little conservatory, and the two frightened girls screamed with terror, believing that nothing less than an explosion had happened. The servants rushed in and quickly turned off the steam, while Mrs. Dainty and Aunt Charlotte, who had hastened to the rescue, tried to quiet the fear of the mischief-makers.