It was impossible to resist the infection of Mr. Maynard's gay good-nature, and by the time breakfast was over, the children were in their usual merry mood. Though an occasional glance out of the window brought a shadow to one face or another, it was quickly dispelled by the laughter and gaiety within.
Marjorie was perhaps the most disappointed of them all, for it was her day, and she had set her heart on the picnic in the woods. But she tried to make the best of it, remembering that, after all, father would be at home all day, and that was a treat of itself.
After breakfast, Mr. Maynard led the way to the living-room, followed by his half-hopeful brood. They all felt that something would be done to make up for their lost pleasure, but it didn't seem as if it could be anything very nice.
Mr. Maynard looked out of the front window insilence for a moment, then suddenly he turned and faced the children.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said; "do any of you know the story of Mahomet and the mountain?"
"No, sir," was the answer of every one, and Marjorie's spirits sank. She liked to hear her father tell stories sometimes, but it was a tame entertainment to take the place of a picnic, and Mahomet didn't sound like an interesting subject, anyway.
Mr. Maynard's eyes twinkled.
"This is the story," he began; "sit down while I tell it to you."
With a little sigh Marjorie sat down on the sofa, and the others followed her example. Rosy Posy, hugging Boffin, scrambled up into a big armchair, and settled herself to listen.
"It is an old story," went on Mr. Maynard, "and the point of it is that if the mountain wouldn't come to Mahomet, Mahomet must needs go to the mountain. But to-day I propose to reverse the story, and since you four sad, forlorn-looking Mahomets can't go to the picnic, whythen, the picnic must come to you. And here it is!"
As Mr. Maynard spoke—indeed he timed his words purposely—their own carriage drove up to the front door, and, flying to the window, Marjorie saw some children getting out of it. Though bundled up in raincoats and caps, she soon recognized Gladys and Dick Fulton and Dorothy Adams.
In a moment they all met in the hall, and the laughter and shouting effectually banished the last trace of disappointment from the young Maynards' faces.
"Did you come for the picnic?" said Marjorie to Gladys, in amazement.
"Yes; your father telephoned early this morning,—before breakfast,—and he said the picnic would be in the house instead of in the woods. And he sent the carriage for us all."
"Great! Isn't it?" said Dick Fulton, as he helped his sister off with her mackintosh. "I thought there'd be no picnic, but here we are."
"Here we are, indeed!" said Mr. Maynard, who was helping Dorothy Adams unwind anentangling veil, "and everybody as dry as a bone."
"Yes," said Dorothy, "the storm is awful, but in your close carriage, and with all these wraps, I couldn't get wet."
"Oh, isn't it fun!" cried Kitty, as she threw her arms around her dear friend, Dorothy. "Are you to stay all day?"
"Yes, until six o'clock. Mr. Maynard says picnics always last until sundown."
Back they all trooped to the big living-room, which presented a cheerful aspect indeed. The rainy morning being chilly, an open fire in the ample fireplace threw out a cheerful blaze and warmth. Mrs. Maynard's pleasant face smiled brightly, as she welcomed each little guest, and afterward she excused herself, saying she had some household matters to attend to and that Mr. Maynard would take charge of the "picnic."
"First of all," said the host, as the children turned expectant faces toward him, "nobody is to say, 'What a pity it rained!' or anything like that. Indeed, you are not to look out at the storm at all, unless you say, 'How fortunate we are under cover!' or words to that effect."
"All right, sir," said Dick Fulton, "I agree.And I think a picnic in the house will be dead loads of fun."
"That's the way to talk," said Mr. Maynard, "and now the picnic will begin. The first part of it will be a nutting-party."
"Oho!" laughed Marjorie. "A nutting-party in the house is 'most too much! I don't see any trees;" and she looked around in mock dismay.
"Do you usually pick the nuts off of trees?" asked her father, quizzically. "You know you don't! You gather them after they have fallen. Now nuts have fallen all over this house, in every room, and all you have to do is to gather them. Each may have a basket, and see who can find the most. Scamper, now!"
While Mr. Maynard was talking, Sarah, the waitress, had come in, bringing seven pretty baskets of fancy wicker-ware. One was given to each child, and off they ran in quest of nuts.
"Every room, Father?" called back Marjorie, over her shoulder.
"Every room," he replied, "except the kitchen.You must not go out there to bother cook. She has all she can attend to."
This sounded pleasant, so Marjorie went on, only pausing for one more question.
"What kind of nuts, Father?"
"Gather any kind you see, my child. There was such a strong wind last night, I daresay it blew down all sorts."
And truly that seemed to be the case. Shrieks of surprise and delight from the whole seven announced the discoveries they made.
They found peanuts, English walnuts, pecan nuts, hazelnuts, Brazil nuts, almonds, hickory nuts, black walnuts, and some of which they didn't know the names.
The nuts were hidden in all sorts of places. Stuffed down in the cushions of chairs and sofas, on mantels and brackets, under rugs and footstools, on window sills, on the floor, on the chandeliers, they seemed to be everywhere. All over the house the children scampered, filling their baskets as they went.
Sometimes two would make a dash for the same nut, and two bumped heads would ensue, but this was looked upon as part of the fun.
The older children gathered their nuts fromthe highest places, leaving the low places for the little ones to look into.
Rosy Posy found most of those on the floor, behind the lace curtains or portières, as she toddled about with her basket on one arm and Boffin in the other.
At last the whole house had been pretty thoroughly ransacked, and the nutting-party returned in triumph with loaded baskets.
"Did you look under the sofa pillows on the couch in this room?" said Mr. Maynard, gravely, and seven pairs of legs scampered for the couch.
Under its pillows they found three bigcocoanuts, and Mr. Maynard declared that completed the hunt.
Meantime, the big, round table in the middle of the room had been cleared of its books and papers, and the children were directed to empty their baskets of nuts on the table, taking care that none should roll off the edge. The seven basketsful were tumbled out, and a goodly heap they made.
Then the seven sat round the table, and to each one was given a tiny pair of candy tongs, such as comes with the confectioner's boxes.
"This is a new game," explained Mr. Maynard,"and it's called Jacknuts. It is played just the same as Jackstraws. Each, in turn, must take nuts from the heap with the tongs. If you jar or jostle another nut than the one you're taking away, it is then the next player's turn."
Of course they all knew how to play Jackstraws, so they understood at once, but this was much more fun.
"The first ones are so easy, let's give Rosy Posy the first chance," said Dick Fulton, and Mr. Maynard, with a nod of approval at the boy, agreed to this plan. So Rosy Posy, her fat little hand grasping the tiny tongs, succeeded in getting nearly a dozen nuts into her basket.
As Dorothy Adams was not quite as old as Kitty, she took her turn next, and then all followed in accordance with their ages.
It was a fascinating game. Some of the little hazelnuts or the slender peanuts were easy to nip with the tongs, but the big English walnuts, or queer-shaped Madeira nuts were very difficult. Great delicacy of touch was necessary, and the children found the new game enthralling.
After her first turn Rosy Posy ran away fromthe game, and Mr. Maynard took her place.
"Oho, Father," laughed Kitty, "I thought you'd get them all, but you're no more successful at it than we are."
"No," said Mr. Maynard, looking with chagrin at his small heap of nuts, "my fingers are too old and stiff, I think."
"So are mine," said Marjorie, laughing.
"You're too fat, Dumpling," said her father. "Kitty's slim little claws seem to do the best work."
"I think it's a steady hand that counts," said Dick; "watch me now!"
With great care, and very slowly, he picked off several nuts that were daintily balanced on the other nuts, but at last he joggled one, and it was King's turn.
"I believe in going fast," said King, and like a whirlwind he picked off four nuts, one after the other. But his last one sent several others flying, and so left an easy chance for Gladys, who came next.
"There's a prize for this game," announced Mr. Maynard, after the table was entirely cleared, andthe nuts were again all in the seven baskets. "In fact there's a prize apiece, all round. And the prizes are nuts, of course. You may each have one."
"One nut!" cried Marjorie. "What a little prize!"
"Not so very little," said her father, smiling.
Then Sarah appeared with a plate ofdoughnuts, and everybody gladly took a prize. A glass of milk went with each of these nuts, and then the children clamored to play the game all over again.
"No, indeed!" said Mr. Maynard. "You can play that any day in the year, but just now we're having a picnic, and the picnic must proceed with its programme."
"All right!" cried Marjorie. "What comes next?"
"Crackers," said her father. "Bring them in, please, Sarah."
"Crackers!" exclaimed King. "I don't want any after that big doughnut."
"You must take one, though," said his father, "it's part of the programme."
Then Sarah came, and brought a big tray onwhich were three nutcrackers, some nutpicks, and several bowls and plates.
"Take a cracker, King," said Mr. Maynard, and the boy promptly took the biggest nutcracker, ready to do the hardest work.
The girls took nutpicks and bowls, and Mr. Maynard and Dick Fulton took the other two nutcrackers, and then work began in earnest. But the work was really play, and they all enjoyed cracking and picking out the nuts, though what they were doing it for nobody knew. But with so many at it, it was soon over, and the result was several bowlsful of kernels. The shells were thrown into the fire, and Mr. Maynard directed that the seven empty baskets be set aside till later.
"We haven't cracked the cocoanuts yet," said Dick. "They're too big for these nutcrackers."
"So they are," said Mr. Maynard. "Well, I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll take them to the dining-room and continue our nut game out there."
So each carried a bowl of nuts, or a cocoanut, and all went to the dining-room.
There the extension-table was spread out full length, and contained a lot of things. On bigsheets of white paper were piles of sifted sugar. Large empty bowls there were, and big spoons, and plates and dishes filled with figs and dates, and oranges and all sorts of goodies.
"What's it all for?" said Marjorie. "It's too early for lunch, and too late for breakfast."
"It's the rest of the nut game," said Mr. Maynard. "I am Professor Nuttall, or Know-it-all; and I'm going to teach you children what I hope will be a valuable accomplishment. Do any of you like candy?"
Replies of "We do," and "Yes, sir," came so emphatically that Mr. Maynard seemed satisfied with the answers.
"Well, then, we'll make some candy that shall be just the best ever! How's that?"
"Fine!" "Glorious!" "Goody, goody!" "Great!" "Oh, Father!" and "Ah!" came loudly from six young throats, and Mrs. Maynard and Rosy Posy came to join the game.
Sarah came, too, bringing white aprons for everybody, boys and all, and then Nurse Nannie appeared, and marched them off, two by two, to wash their hands for the candy-making process.
But at last they were all ready to begin.
Mr. Maynard, in his position of teacher, insisted on absolute system and method, and everything was arranged with care and regularity.
"The first thing to learn in candy-making," he said, "is neatness; and the second, accuracy."
"Why, Father," cried Dorothy, "I didn't know you knew how to make candy!"
"I know more than you'd believe, to look at me. And now, if you four girls will each squeeze the juice of an orange into a cup, we'll begin."
Marjorie and Kitty and Gladys and Dorothy obeyed instructions exactly, and soon each was carefully breaking an egg, and still more carefully separating the white from the yolk.
Mrs. Maynard seemed to find plenty to do just waiting on the workers, and it was largely owing to her thoughtfulness that oranges and eggs andcups and spoons appeared when needed, almost as if by magic.
Meantime the two boys were working rapidly and carefully, too. They grated cocoanut and chocolate; they cut up figs and seeded dates; they chopped nuts and raisins; and they received admiring compliments from Mrs. Maynard for the satisfactory results of their work.
"Oh, isn't it fun!" exclaimed Marjorie, as she and Gladys were taught to mould the creamy, whitefondantthey had made, into tiny balls. Some of these white balls the smaller girls pressed between two nut kernels, or into a split date; and others were to be made into chocolate creams. This last was a thrilling process, for it was not easy at first to drop the white ball into the hot black chocolate, and remove it daintily with a silver fork, being most careful the while not to leave untidy drippings.
Cocoanut balls were made, and nougat, which was cut into cubes, and lovely, flat peanut sugar cakes.
The boys did all these things quite as well as the girls, and all, except Rosy Posy, worked with a will and really accomplished wonders.
Each was allowed to eat five finished candies ofany sort and at any time they chose, but they were on their honor not to eat more than five.
"Oh," sighed Marjorie, as she looked at the shining rows of goodies on plates and tins, "I'd like to eat a hundred!"
"You wouldn't want any luncheon, then," said her father. "And as it's now noon, and as our candies are all done, I suggest that you all scamper away to some place where soap and water grow wild, and return as soon as possible, all tidy and neat for our picnic luncheon."
"Lunch time!" cried Gladys, in surprise. "It can't be! Why, we've only been here a little while."
But it was half-past twelve, and for the first time that whole morning the children looked out of the windows.
"It's still raining," said King, "and I'm glad of it. We're having more fun than at an outdoor picnic,Ithink."
"So do I!" cried all the others, as they ran away upstairs.
Shortly after, seven very spick-and-span-looking children presented themselves in the lower hall. Curls had been brushed, hair-ribbons freshly tied,and even Boffin had a new blue ribbon round his neck.
"Now for the real picnic!" cried Mr. Maynard, as he led the way into the living-room.
As Marjorie entered, she gave a shriek of delight, and turned to rush into her father's arms.
"Oh, Daddy!" she cried. "You do beat the Dutch! What a lovely picnic! It's a million times better than going to the woods!"
"Especially on a day like this," said her father.
The others, too, gave exclamations of joy, and indeed that was small wonder.
The whole room hadalmostbeen turned into a woodland glen.
On the floor were spread some old green muslin curtains that had once been used for private theatricals or something.
Round the walls stood all the palms and ferns and plants that belonged in other parts of the house, and these were enough to give quite an outdoorsy look to the place.
To add to this, great branches of leaves were thrust behind sofas or tables. Some leaves were green and some had already turned to autumn tints, so it was almost like a real wood.
Chairs and tables had been taken away, andto sit on, the children found some big logs of wood, like trunks of fallen trees, and some large, flat stones.
James, the coachman, and Thomas, the gardener, had been working at the room all the time the children were making candy, and even now they were peeping in at the windows to see the young people enjoying themselves.
In the middle of the room was what looked like a big, flat rock. As it was covered with an old, gray rubber waterproof, it was probably an artificial rock, but it answered its purpose. Real stones, twigs, leaves, and even clumps of moss were all about on the green floor cloth, and overhead were the children's birds, which had been brought down from the playroom, and which sang gaily in honor of the occasion.
"Isn't it wonderful?" said Dorothy Adams, a little awed at the transformation scene; "how did you do it, Mr. Maynard?"
"I told my children," he replied, "that since they couldn't go to the picnic the picnic should come to them, and here it is."
Rosy Posy discovered a pile of hay in a corner,and plumped herself down upon it, still holding tightly her beloved Boffin.
Then James and Thomas came in carrying big, covered baskets.
"The picnic! The picnic!" cried Rosy Posy, to whom a picnic meant chiefly the feast thereof.
After the baskets were deposited on the ground near the flat rock, James and Thomas went away, and none of the servants remained but Nurse Nannie, who would have gone to the picnic in the wood, and who was needed to look after little Rosamond.
"Now, my boys," said Mr. Maynard, "we must wait on ourselves, you know; and on the ladies. This is a real picnic."
Very willingly the boys fell upon the baskets, and soon had their contents set out upon the big rocks.
Such shouts of delight as went up at sight of those contents!
And indeed it was fun!
No china dishes or linen napery, but wooden plates and Japanese paper napkins in true picnic style. Then while the girls set the viands in order, the boys mended the fire in the big fireplace, and put potatoes in to roast. Mrs. Maynard hadthoughtfully selected small potatoes, and so they were soon done, and with butter and pepper and salt they tasted exactly as roast potatoes do in the woods, and every one knows there is no better taste than that!
While the potatoes were roasting, too, the lemonade must be made. Mr. Maynard and Dick Fulton squeezed the lemons, while Kingdon volunteered to go down to the spring for water.
This made great fun, for they all knew he only went to the kitchen, but he returned with a pail of "cold spring water," and then Mrs. Maynard attended to the mixing of the lemonade.
The feast itself was found to include everything that had been asked for beforehand.
Cold chicken, devilled eggs, sandwiches, lemon tarts, all were there, besides lots of other good things.
They all pretended, of course, that they were really in the woods.
"How blue the sky is to-day," said Mr. Maynard, looking upward, as he sat on a log, with a sandwich in one hand and a glass of lemonade in the other.
As the ceiling was papered in a design of whiteand gold, it required some imagination to follow his remark, but they were all equal to it.
"Yes," said Marjorie, gazing intently skyward; "it's a beeyootiful day. But I see a slight cloud, as if itmightrain to-morrow."
"We need rain," said Mr. Maynard; "the country is drying up for the lack of it."
As it was still pouring steadily, this was very funny, and of course they all giggled.
Then King went on.
"The sun is so bright it hurts my eyes. I wish I had a pair of green glasses to protect them."
"Or a parasol," said Gladys. "I'm sorry I left mine at home."
"What are we going to do at the picnic this afternoon, Father?" asked Kitty.
"I thought we'd fly kites," said Mr. Maynard, "but there isn't a breath of air stirring, so we can't."
The wind was blowing a perfect gale, so this made them all laugh again, and Gladys said to Marjorie, "I do think your father is thefunniestman!"
At last the more substantial part of the luncheon was over, and it was time for the ice-cream.
The freezer was brought right into the picnicground, and Kingdon and Dick were asked to dig the ice-cream out with a big wooden spoon, just as they always did at picnics. The heaps of pink and white delight, on fresh pasteboard plates, were passed around, and were eaten by those surprising children with as much relish as if they hadn't just consumed several basketsful of other things.
Then the candies were brought in, but, strange to say, nobody cared much for any just then.
So Mrs. Maynard had the seven pretty fancy baskets, that they had gathered nuts in, brought back, and each child was allowed to fill a basket with the pretty candies.
These were set away until the picnic was over, when they were to be taken home as souvenirs.
Luncheon over, Mr. Maynard decreed that the picnickers needn't do the cleaning away, as that couldn't be done by merely throwing away things as they did in the woods.
So Sarah came in to tidy up the room, and Mr. Maynard seated his whole party on the big logs and stones, while he told them stories.
The stories were well worth listening to, andthough Rosy Posy fell asleep, the others listened breathlessly to the tales which were told in a truly dramatic fashion. But after an hour or so of this, Mr. Maynard suddenly declared that the picnic was becoming too quiet.
"I wanted you all to sit still for a while after your hearty luncheon," he said, "but now you need exercise. Shall we play 'Still Pond'?"
A howl of glee greeted this suggestion, for Still Pond in the house was usually a forbidden game.
As you probably know, it is like Blindman's Buff, only the ones who are not blinded may not move.
Marjorie was "It" first, and after being carefully blindfolded by her father, she stood still in the middle of the floor and counted ten very slowly. While she did this, the others placed themselves behind tables or chairs, or wherever they felt safe from the blindfolded pursuer.
"Ten!" cried Marjorie, at last. "Still Pond! No moving!"
This was a signal for perfect quiet; any one moving after that had to be "It" in turn.
No sound was heard, so Marjorie felt her waycautiously about until she should catch some one. It was hard for the others not to laugh as she narrowly escaped touching Kingdon's head above the back of the sofa, and almost caught Kitty's foot as it swung from a table. But at last she caught her father, who was on the floor covered up with an afghan, and so Mr. Maynard was "It" in his turn.
It was a rollicking game, and a very exciting one, and, as often was the case, it soon merged into Blindman's Buff. This was even more romping and noisy, and soon the picnic sounded like Pandemonium let loose.
"Good!" cried Mr. Maynard, as he looked at the red, laughing faces, and moist, tumbled curls. "You look just like a lot of healthy, happy boys and girls should look, but that's enough of that. Now, we'll sit down in a circle, and play quiet games."
Again the group occupied the logs and stones, ottomans and sofa cushions if they preferred, and they played guessing games selected by each in turn.
When it was Mr. Maynard's turn, he said he would teach them the game of the Popular Picnic.He began by telling them they must each in turn repeat what he himself should say.
Turning to Kingdon, he said, "To-day I have been to the Popular Picnic."
So Kingdon said to Dick, "To-day I have been to the Popular Picnic."
Then Dick said it to Marjorie, and Marjorie to Gladys, and so on all round the circle.
Then Mr. Maynard said, gravely: "To-day I have been to the Popular Picnic. Merry, madcap Mopsy Midget was there."
This was repeated all round, and then to the lingo Mr. Maynard added, "Kicking, kinky-legged Kingdon was there."
This, after the other, was not so easy, but they all repeated it.
Next came, "Dear, dainty, do-little Dorothy was there."
This made them laugh, but they said it safely all round.
Then, "Delightful, dangerous, Deadwood Dick was there."
They had to help each other this time, but not one of them would give up the game.
"Gay, gregarious, giggling Gladys was there."
Gladys was indeed giggling, but so were allthe others. Still they were a determined lot, and each time round each one repeated all the sets of names, amid the laughing of the others.
"Kind-hearted, Kindergarten Kitty," was an easy one, but when the list wound up with "Rollicking Rufflecumtuffle Rosy Posy," the game ended in a gale of laughter.
But they remembered many of the funny phrases, and often called each other by them afterward.
"Now," said Mr. Maynard, "we'll play something less wearing on the intellect. This is called the motor-car game, and you must all sit in a row. Kingdon, you're the chauffeur, and when chauffeur is mentioned, you must make a 'chuff-chuff' sound like starting the machine. Dick, you're the tire, and when tire is said, you must make a fearful report like an explosion of a bursting tire. Dorothy, you're the number, and when number is mentioned, you must say six-three-nine-nine-seven."
"What am I, Father?" said impatient Kitty.
"Oh, you're the man that they run over, and you must groan and scream. Marjorie, you'rethe speed limit, and you must cry, 'Whiz! Zip!!Whizz!!!' Gladys, you're the dust. All you have to do is to fly about and wave your arms and hands, and sneeze. Rosy Posy, baby, you're the horn. Whenever father sayshorn, you must say 'Toot, toot!' Will you?"
"Ess. Me play game booful, me an' Boffin; we say, 'Toot, toot!'"
"Now," went on Mr. Maynard, "I'll tell the story and when any of you are mentioned you must do your part. Then if I say automobile, you must all do your parts at once. Ready now: Well, this morning I started out for a ride and first thing I knew my tire burst."
A fearful "Plop!" from Dick startled them all, and then the game went on.
"I feared I was exceeding the speed-limit [much puffing and whizzing from Marjorie], and as I looked back through the dust [great cloud of dust represented by Gladys' pantomime] I saw I had run over a man!"
The awful groans and wails from Kitty were so realistic that Mr. Maynard himself shook with laughter.
"I sounded my horn——"
"Tooty-toot-toot!" said Rosy Posy, after being prompted by Kingdon.
"But as I was my own chauffeur"—here Kingdon's representation of a starting motor quite drowned the speaker's voice—"I hastened on before they could even get my number."
"Eight-six-eleven-nine," cried Dorothy, quite forgetting the numbers she had been told. But nobody minded it, for just then Mr. Maynard said, "And so I went home with my automobile."
At this everybody turned up at once, and the dust cloud flew about, and the man who was run over groaned fearfully, and tires burst one after another, and the horn tooted, until Mr. Maynard was really obliged to cry for mercy, and the game was at an end.
The afternoon, too, was nearly at an end, and so quickly had it flown that nobody could believe it was almost six o'clock!
But it was, and it was time for the picnic to break up, and for the little guests to go home. It had stopped raining, but was still dull and wet, so the raincoats were donned again, and, with their beautiful baskets of candies wrapped inprotecting tissue papers, Gladys and Dorothy and Dick clambered into Mr. Maynard's carriage and were driven to their homes.
"Good-bye!" they called, as they drove away. "Good-bye, all! We've had alovelytime!"
"Lovely? I should say so!" said Marjorie, who was clinging to her father's arm. "It's been the very best Ourday ever, and I'msoglad it rained!"
"My prophecy has come true!" declared Mr. Maynard, striking a dramatic attitude. "Only this morning I prognosticated you'd say that, and you——"
"And I didn't see how it could be possible," agreed Marjorie, wagging her head, wisely. "I know it. But you made it possible, you beautiful, dear, smart, clever, sweet father, you, and I've had just the elegantest time!"
"When it's my turn, I shall choose a picnic in the house," said Kitty.
"Not unless it's a rainy day," said her father. "I've enjoyed the day, too, but I can tell you it's no joke to get up this kind of a picnic. Why, I was telephoning and sending errands for twohours before you kiddies were awake this morning."
"Dear Daddy," said Marjorie, caressing his hand in both her own, "you aresogood to us; and Idohope it will rain next Ourday!"
"So do I!" said all the others.
At last schooldays began, and one Monday morning the three Maynards started off.
The first day of school was a great occasion, and much preparation had been made for it.
Mr. Maynard had brought each of the children a fine new box, well stocked with pencils, pens, and things of that sort. Kitty had a new slate, and Midget and King had new blankbooks.
Also, they were all in a state of clean starchiness, and the girls' pretty gingham dresses and King's wide white collar were immaculate.
Marjorie didn't look especially happy, but her mother said:
"Now, Mopsy, dear, don't go to school as if it were penance. Try to enjoy it, and think of the fun you'll have playing with the other girls at recess."
"I know, Mother; but recess is so short, andschool is so long."
"Ho! Only till one o'clock," said Kingdon. "Then we can come home, have lunch, and then there's all the afternoon to play."
"Yes, for you," said Marjorie. "But I have to practise a whole hour, and that leaves almost no time at all, and there are so many things I want to do."
"Now, my little girl," said Mrs. Maynard, very seriously, "you must try to conquer that mood. You know you have to go to school, so why not make the best of it? You don't really dislike it as much as you think you do. So, cheer up, little daughter, and run along, determined to see the bright side, even of school."
"I will try, Mother," said Midget, smiling, as she received her good-bye kiss, "but I'll be glad when it's one o'clock."
"I wiss me could go to school," said Rosy Posy, wistfully; "me an' Boffin, we'd have fun in school."
"There it is," said Mrs. Maynard, laughing. "Little girls who can go to school don't want to go, and little girls who can't go do want to!"
"You'll go some day, Baby," said King, "butthey won't let you take Boffin."
"Den I won't go!" declared Rosy Posy, decidedly.
The three walked down the path to the gate, and, soon after they reached the street, they were joined by several others, also schoolward bound.
Marjorie's spirits rose, as she chatted with the merry young people; and as they passed the Fulton house, and Dick and Gladys came out, Marjorie was so glad to see her friend that she was at once her own happy, merry little self again.
Miss Lawrence's room was one of the pleasantest in the big brick building. When Marjorie and Gladys presented themselves at her desk, and asked if they might sit together, the teacher hesitated. She wanted to grant the request of the little girls, but they had been in her class the year before, and she well knew their propensities for mischief.
"Oh, please, Miss Lawrence!" begged Marjorie; and, "Oh, do say yes!" pleaded Gladys.
It was hard to resist the little coaxers, and Miss Lawrence at last consented.
"But," she said, "you may sit at the samedesk only so long as you behave well. If you cut up naughty pranks, I shall separate you for the rest of the term."
"We won't!" "We will be good!" cried the two children, and they ran happily away to their desk.
Each desk was arranged for two occupants, and both Marjorie and Gladys enjoyed putting their things away neatly, and keeping them in good order. They never spilled ink, or kept their papers helter-skelter, and but for their mischievous ways, would have been model pupils indeed.
"Let's be real good all the term, Gladys," said Midget, who was still under the influence of her mother's parting words. "Let's try not to cut up tricks, or do anything bad."
"All right, Mopsy. But you mustn't make me laugh in school. It's when you begin to do funny things that I seem to follow on."
"Well, I won't. I'll be as good as a little white mouse. But if I'm a mouse, I'll nibble your things."
Down went Marjorie's curly head like a flash, and when it came up again, Gladys' new penholder was between her teeth, and the "mouse" was vigorously nibbling it.
"Stop that, Mops! I think you're real mean!That's my new penholder, and now you've spoiled it."
"So I have! Honest, Gladys, I didn't think the dents would show so. I was just playing mouse, you know. Here, I'll change, and give you mine. It's new, too."
"No, I won't take it."
"Yes, you will; you must. I'm awfully sorry I chewed yours."
Poor little Midget! She was always impulsively getting into mischief, but she was always sorry, and generously anxious to make amends.
So Gladys took Marjorie's penholder, and Mopsy had the nibbled one. She didn't like it a bit, for she liked to have her things in good order, but she said to Gladys:
"Perhaps it will make me remember to be good in school. Oh, s'pose I'd played mouse in school hours!"
"Keep still," said Gladys, "the bell has rung."
The morning passed pleasantly enough, for there were no lessons on the first day of school.
Books were distributed, and class records weremade, and lessons given out for next day.
Marjorie was delighted with her new geography, which was a larger book than the one she had had the year before. Especially was she pleased with a large map which was called the "Water Hemisphere." On the opposite page was the "Land Hemisphere," and this was a division of the globe she had never seen before.
The Water Hemisphere pleased her best, and she at once began to play games with it.
Talking was, of course, forbidden, but motioning for Gladys to follow her example, she made a tiny paper boat, and then another, and several others. These she set afloat on the printed ocean of the Water Hemisphere. Gladys, delighted with the fun, quickly made some boats for herself, and arranged them on her own geography. Other pupils, seeing what was going on, followed the example, and soon nearly all the geographies in the room had little paper craft dotting their oceans.
Next, Marjorie made some little men and women to put in the boats. She had no scissors, but tore them roughly out of paper which she took fromher blankbook. Other leaves of this she obligingly passed around, until all the boats in the room were supplied with passengers.
Then Marjorie, still in her position of leader, tore out a semblance of a fish. It seemed to be a whale or shark, with wide-open jaws.
This awful creature came slowly up from the Antarctic Ocean, toward the ships full of people.
Suddenly a boat upset, the passengers fell out, and the whale made a dash for them.
This awful catastrophe was repeated in the other oceans, and, needless to say, in a moment the whole roomful of children were in peals of laughter.
Miss Lawrence looked up from her writing, and saw her class all giggling and shaking behind their geographies. Instinctively she glanced toward Marjorie, but that innocent damsel had swept all her boats and whales into her pocket, and was demurely studying her lessons.
Marjorie did not in the least mean to deceive Miss Lawrence, but when the children all laughed, she suddenly realized that she had been out of order, and so she quickly stopped her play, and resumed her task.
Observing the open geographies covered withscraps of paper, Miss Lawrence felt she must at least inquire into the matter, and, though the children did not want to "tell tales," it soon transpired that Marjorie Maynard had been ringleader in the game.
"Why did you do it, Marjorie?" asked Miss Lawrence, with a reproachful expression on her face. As she had meant no harm, Marjorie felt called upon to defend herself.
"Why, Miss Lawrence," she said, rising in her seat, "I didn't think everybody would do it, just because I did. And I didn't think much about it anyway. I s'pose that's the trouble. Ineverthink! But I never had a jography before with such a big ocean map, and it was such a lovely place to sail boats, I just made a few. And then I just thought I'd put some people in the boats, and then it seemed as if such a big ocean ought to have fish in it. So I made a whale,—and I was going to make a lot of bluefish and shads and things, but a boat upset, and the whale came after the people, and then, first thing I knew, everybody was laughing! I didn't mean to do wrong."
Marjorie looked so genuinely distressed thatMiss Lawrence hadn't the heart to scold her. But she sighed as she thought of the days to come.
"No, Marjorie," she said, "I don't think you did mean to do wrong, but you ought to know better than to make paper toys to play with in school."
"But it isn't exactly a schoolday, Miss Lawrence."
"No; and for that very reason I shall not punish you this time. But remember, after this, that playing games of any sort is out of place in the schoolroom."
"Yes, ma'am," said Marjorie, and she sat down, feeling that she had been forgiven, and firmly resolved to try harder than ever to be good.
But half-suppressed chuckles now and then, in different parts of the schoolroom, proved to the watchful Miss Lawrence that some of the whales were still lashing about the paper oceans in quest of upturned boats.
The game so filled Marjorie's thoughts that she asked that Gladys and she might be allowed to stay in the schoolroom at recess and play it.
"There's surely no harm in playing games atrecess, is there, Miss Lawrence?" she asked, as she caressed her teacher's hand.
Miss Lawrence hesitated. "No," she said, at last; "I can't let you stay in the schoolroom. I'm sorry, dearies, and I hate to be always saying 'No,' but I feel sure your parents want you to run out in the fresh air at recess time, and they wouldn't like to have you stay indoors."
"Oh, dear," said Marjorie; "seems 'sif we can't have any fun!" Then her face brightened, and she added, "But mayn't we take our jographies out on the playground, and play out there?"
There was a rule against taking schoolbooks out of the classrooms, but Miss Lawrence so disliked to say 'No' again that she made a special dispensation, and said:
"Yes, do take your geographies out with you. But be very careful not to soil or tear them."
And so the two girls danced away, and all through the recess hour, boats upset and awful sharks swallowed shrieking victims. But, as might have been expected, most of the other children came flying back to the schoolroom for theirgeographies, and again Miss Lawrence was in a quandary.
"I never saw a child like Marjorie Maynard," she confided to another teacher. "She's the dearest little girl, but she gets up such crazy schemes, and all the others follow in her footsteps."
So, after recess, Miss Lawrence had to make a rule that books could not be used as playthings, even at recess times.
For the rest of the morning, Marjorie was a model pupil.
She studied her lessons for the next day, and though Miss Lawrence glanced at her from time to time, she never saw anything amiss.
But when school was over at one o'clock, Marjorie drew a long breath and fairly flew for her hat.
"Good-bye, dearie," said Miss Lawrence, as Midge passed her when the long line filed out.
"Good-bye!" was the smiling response, and in two minutes more Mopsy was skipping and jumping across the playground.
"Hello, King!" she called. "Where's Kitty? Oh, here you are! Now we can all go home together. What shall we do this afternoon? Iwant to do something jolly to take the taste of school out of my mouth."
"Come over to our house and play in the hay," said Dick Fulton.
"All right, we will. I'll have my practising done by three o'clock, and we'll come then."
A little later, and the three Maynards flew in at their own gate, and found a warm welcome and a specially good luncheon awaiting them.
"I got along pretty well, Mother," said Marjorie, as they all told their morning's experiences. "Only I couldn't help playing paper boats." She told the whole story, and Mrs. Maynard smiled as she said:
"Marjorie, you are incorrigible; but I fear you will only learn by experience——"
"What is incorrigible?" asked Marjorie.
"It's 'most too big a word for you to understand," said her mother, "but it means you must just keep on everlastingly trying to be good."
"I will," said Mops, heartily, and then she turned her attention to the chicken pie before her.