It was time to decide the momentous question of where the next Ourday should be spent.
Already it was Wednesday, and on Saturday the Maynards would have their November Ourday. It was Rosy Posy's turn to choose, but as her selections were usually either vague or impossible, the other children were not backward in offering suggestions to help the little one out.
This time, however, Rosamond was quite positive in her opinion.
When her father asked her where she wanted to go for a day's outing, she at once responded, "To Bongzoo."
"To Bongzoo!" exclaimed Mr. Maynard. "Where in the world is that? Or what is it? It sounds as though it might be either French or Choctaw."
"Ess," said Rosy Posy, "we'll all go to Bongzoo; me an' muvver, an' all of us, an' Daddy, too."
"And how do we get there, Baby? Walk, ride, or swim?"
"I don' know," said Rosy Posy. "But Marjorie knows. She told me to say 'Go to Bongzoo,' so I said it."
Then the laugh was on Marjorie.
"Oho!" said Mr. Maynard. "So Mopsy's been electioneering all right. Out with it, Midge. What does Baby mean by Bongzoo?"
"She means the Bronx Zoo," said Marjorie. "I thought we'd all like to see the animals there. But it isn't my turn to choose, so I told Rosy Posy to choose that."
"An' I do!" declared the child, stoutly. "I choose Bongzoo, an' I wants to go there."
"I think it's a fine place to go," said Mr. Maynard. "What made you think of it, Midge?"
"One of the girls at school went there some time ago, and she told us all about it; and, oh, Father, it's beautiful! All lions and tigers and waterlilies and Florida trees!"
"I doubt if the waterlilies are in bloom justnow, but I'm sure the tigers are flourishing. Well, I'm for the Zoo. Will you go, Mother?"
"Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Maynard; "I don't want to miss such a fine-sounding Ourday as that."
"I think it's great!" declared King. "Bob Carson says the birds are wonderful, and the alligators walk around on the grass."
"Oh!" cried Kitty, "then I don't want to go. I wouldn't meet an alligator for anything!"
"They have their own grass plat, Kitsie," said her father. "They don't trespass on the grass reserved for visitors."
So the Ourday was unanimously settled, and, as that sort of a trip involved little preparation, there was nothing to do but hope for pleasant weather.
"Though if it rains," said Marjorie, comfortably, "Father will fix up something nice for us in the house."
But Saturday turned out to be a lovely day, and the Maynard family took an early train for New York City, in order to make their stay at the Zoo as long as possible.
They did not invite any other guests, as Mr.and Mrs. Maynard thought their own four children responsibility enough.
The young people greatly enjoyed the journey in the train, and across the ferry, and then Rosy Posy asked that they might go in what she called the "Cellarway." She meant the Subway, and, as this was a quick way to reach Bronx Park, Mr. Maynard consented. The children were of enthusiastic natures, and inclined to be conversational, but the noise of the Subway trains drowned their voices, and, for once, they were obliged to be silent. But when they reached their destination, and entered the beautiful park, their tongues were loosed again, and they kept up a running fire of chatter.
Rosy Posy trotted along by her mother's side, King and Kitty walked together, and Midget pretended to walk by her father's side, but really danced back and forth from one to another. They visited the Botanical Park first, and as the early November day was clear and cold, they were not sorry to step into the warm greenhouses.
Marjorie specially liked the great jungles ofFlorida and other southern vegetation. The banyan trees and giant palms reached up to the high ceiling, and the luxuriant foliage and brilliant blossoms made northern plants seem dwarfed beside them. It was an instructive experience, as well as an entertaining one, for Mr. Maynard called the children's attention to the printed names on the plants, and, though they could not remember all of them, they learned a great many.
"It's fun to study botany this way," said Marjorie, as her father showed her the strange Mexican cacti, and told her about the deserts where they grow.
King nearly scared Kitty out of her wits by pretending there was a great snake writhing among the dark-leaved reeds, but almost immediately she discovered it was only a rubber hose, and she laughed with the rest.
There were many greenhouses, but after they had been through most of them, Mr. Maynard proposed that they have an early luncheon, and then go to see the animals.
So they went to the picturesque restaurant, and the six travellers suddenly discovered they were both tired and hungry.
"But an hour's rest and some good food willmake us all over anew," said Mr. Maynard, "and then we'll be quite ready to call on the lions and the tigers."
"Is this Bongzoo?" asked Rosy Posy, after she had been comfortably placed in a high chair almost like her own at home.
"Well, this is the place where they feed the animals," said her father, "and as you're a little kitten, I suppose you'll have some milk?"
"Milk, an' meat, an' 'tatoes, an' pie, an' evvyfing," announced Rosy Posy, folding her chubby hands to await contentedly the filling of her comprehensive order.
Being an Ourday the children were allowed to select whatever they chose from themenu, their parents, however, reserving the right of veto.
"I want roast beef," said Kitty, after scanning the more elaborate, but unfamiliar, names.
"Oh, pshaw, Kit," said her brother, "you can have that at home! Why don't you take something different? It's more of a treat. I choose Supreme of Chicken."
"I don't like soup," said Kitty, innocently, andthen they all laughed.
"I think I'll have lobster salad," announced Marjorie, after long study.
"I think you won't," said her father, promptly. "Nobody's to be ill this afternoon, and that's a risky dish for little folks. Try again, sister."
Marjorie cheerfully made another perusal of the bill of fare, and at last declared in favor of chicken hash.
This was willingly allowed, and when Kitty decided on an omelette with jelly, her choice was also commended. Mrs. Maynard added a few wise selections, which were for the good of all concerned, and each chose a favorite ice-cream.
"Oh, what a good time we're having!" said Marjorie. "I do love to eat at a restaurant."
"It is pleasant once in a while," said her father. "But for daily food, give me my own family table."
"Yes, indeed," agreed Marjorie; "I wouldn't like tolivein a restaurant."
After luncheon they visited the great "rocking-stone." The immense rock, weighing many tons, was poised on a tiny base, and it almost seemed as if Rosy Posy might push it over, so unstable did it look.
But indeed she couldn't, nor any of the others, though it was said that a pressure of fifty pounds could make the great stone rock on its base.
"And now," said Mr. Maynard, "we're really getting into the Zoo part of our day. This, Rosy Posy, is your Bongzoo, and first of all here are the bears."
Delightedly all the children viewed the bears. The great creatures seemed so mild and gentle, and played with one another in such kittenish fashion, that even Rosy Posy felt no fear of them. There were various species, from the big grizzlies to the little brown cinnamon bears, and all waddled about in a state of comfortable fatness, or lay in the sun and slept peacefully.
The lions and tigers were far less placid. They stalked up and down their small cages, and now and then growled or roared as if very weary of their long and solitary confinement.
"He wants to come out," said Rosy Posy,of a particularly big and ferocious-looking lion. "Let him out, Father, he wants to play wiv us."
"Oh! I think I'd better not, Baby. He might run away and forget to come back."
"No," insisted the child; "I'll put my arms round him, an' make him stay wiv me."
"We won't have time now, Rosy Posy," said King. "We're going on now to see the panthers and wolves. Come along with brother."
So the child slipped her little hand in King's, and they led the family procession for a while.
The monkeys were a great source of amusement, and Rosy Posy thought some of the chimpanzees were little old men, they chattered so glibly.
But the birds proved a delight to all.
"Oh!" cried Marjorie. "Will you look at those red and blue parrots!"
"Parrakeets," corrected Mr. Maynard. "And fine ones, too. And how beautiful are the white ones with yellow topknots."
They studied, with some care, the names and homes of the birds, and learned to distinguish thetoucans and orioles and other beautiful, bright-colored species.
Then on to the big, wise-eyed owls, who blinked and winked at them in a sleepy sort of a way.
The eagles came next, and all were proud of the National bird, as they viewed the fine specimens on exhibition. The bald eagle and the white eagle were favorites, and the vultures and condors were disliked by all.
An interesting structure was an immense cage, which was larger than any house, and entirely open to view. They walked round all four sides of it, and were enchanted with its beautiful occupants pants. Storks and flamingoes stood about, on one leg, motionless, as if absorbed in deep contemplation. Pelicans, with their strange bills, and ducks of most brilliant plumage waddled around and seemed to be entirely interested in their eager audience.
In another enclosure, cranes and adjutant birds flapped their great wings, and made long, hopping jumps, and then stood still, as if posing for their pictures.
Marjorie proved herself specially quick in picking out each bird, from its descriptive placard, and she learned the names, both English and Latin, of many of them.
"You don't mind going to school this way, do you. Midget?" asked her father.
"Not a bit! I love it. If I could learn all my lessons out of doors, and with you to help teach me, I'd be willing to study all the time."
"Well, we must come here again some day," said Mr. Maynard, "and see if you remember all these jawbreaker names. Now, let's visit the beavers."
The beaver pond was a strange sight, indeed. Originally there had been many tall trees standing in the swampy enclosure, but now nearly all of them lay flat in the water. The little busy beavers had gnawed around and into the trunks, near the ground, until the tree toppled and fell over.
"Why do they do it, Father?" asked King, greatly interested.
"They want to make bridges across the water," answered Mr. Maynard. "It shows a wonderful sagacity, for they gnaw the trunk of the tree, at first such a place, and in just such a way, thatthe tree will fall exactly in the direction they want it to."
"They must scamper to get out of the way when a tree is about to fall," observed Mrs. Maynard.
"Indeed, they do," said her husband. "They are very clever, and most patient and untiring workers. See, the trunks they have gnawed have been protected by wire netting that visitors may see them. And some of the standing trees are protected near the ground by wire netting that they may not be upset at present."
"Now I know my beaver lesson," said Marjorie; "let's go on. Father, I think I'll change that piece I spoke in school to 'How doth the busy little beaver,' instead of bee!"
"They're equally busy creatures, my dear. You may take a lesson from either or both."
"No, thank you. I don't want to workallthe time. I'll be a butterfly sometimes, 'specially on Ourdays."
Marjorie jumped and fluttered about more like a grasshopper than anything else, and, swinging by her father's hand, they passed on to the deer ranges.
Here were all sorts of deer, and the gentle,timid-eyed creatures came tamely to the railings or nettings and made friends with the visitors.
"It would be fun to feed them," said Mr. Maynard, "but it's strictly forbidden, so we can only talk to them, and hope that they understand. And now, my infants, the sun is travelling homeward, and I think we'll take our next lesson from him. Would you rather have some sandwiches and ice-cream now, or wait until you get home, to refresh yourselves?"
"Now, now, now!" chorused the whole party.
"Do you know, I thought you'd say that," said Mr. Maynard. "So suppose we go into this pleasant-looking tea-room, and have a social hour."
"This makes twice for ice-cream, to-day," observed Kitty, as she lovingly ate her favorite dainty. "And do we have it to-night for dinner, Mother?"
"Of course. Always on an Ourday night."
"Oh, how lovely! Three times in one day."
"Kitty," said her mother, smiling, "I believe your highest ambition is ice-cream."
"Yes, it is," said Kitty, complacently; "or elsehuckleberry pie."
After the ice-cream, there was the trip home. But the children were not tired, and enjoyed thoroughly the ride, which was more of a treat to them than to their parents.
The Subway was fun, the ferryboat ride a delight, and after they were in the train on the New Jersey side, they coaxed the conductor to turn two seats to face each other. Then the quartette occupied these, and chattered gaily over the events of the day.
"Isn't it lovely," said Marjorie, as they at last entered their own front door, "to think we've had such a good time, and yet Ourday isn't over yet?"
"I know it," said Kitty. "And 'tis specially lovely for me, 'cause I can stay up to dinner, and dress up, and everything."
Ourdays always wound up with an extra good dinner, and a touch of gala costume in honor of the occasion. Then after dinner the evening was devoted to games or stories or fun of some sort, in which Mr. Maynard was the ringleader. Other evenings he was not to be disturbed, unless he chose, but Ourday evenings he belonged to thechildren, and willingly did whatever they asked him to.
But at nine o'clock the Ourday was over, and the children trooped off to bed, invariably repeating the same old story, "Now this hasreallybeen the very best Ourday weeverhad!"
Thanksgiving Day came late that year. The red-lettered Thursday on the calendar didn't appear until the last part of the month. But winter had set in early, and already there was fine coasting and skating.
Marjorie loved all out-of-door sports, and the jolly afternoons spent on the hill or on the lake sent her home with cheeks as rosy as a hard, sound, winter apple.
The Thanksgiving season always meant festivity of some sort. Sometimes they all went to Grandma Sherwood's in orthodox traditional fashion, and sometimes they went to Grandma Maynard's, who lived in New York.
But this year Mr. and Mrs. Maynard expected friends of their own, some grown-ups from the city, to spend the holiday.
"No children!" exclaimed Marjorie, when sheheard about it.
"No, Midge," said her mother. "You must help me entertain my guests this time, as I sometimes help you entertain yours."
"Indeed you do, you sweetest mother in all the world!" cried impetuous Midget, as she flung herself into her mother's arms. Midget's embraces were of the strenuous order, and, though Mrs. Maynard never warded them off, she was often obliged to brace herself for the sudden impact.
"And I'll help you a heap," went on Marjorie. "What can I do? May I make Indian pudding with raisins in it?"
Midge was just having a spell of learning to cook, and good-natured Ellen had taught her a few simple dishes, of which Indian pudding was the favorite.
"No thank you, dearie. As it is a festival occasion, I think we'll have something a little more elaborate than that. You can help me better by trying to behave decorously, and by keeping the other children quiet when they are in the drawing-room. Mr. and Mrs. Crawford have neverhad any children, and they don't like noise and confusion."
"You're more used to it, aren't you, Mother?" said Marjorie, again springing to give her mother one of her spasmodic embraces, and incidentally upsetting that long-suffering lady's work-basket.
"I have to be if I live with my whirlwind of an eldest daughter," said Mrs. Maynard, when she could get her breath once more.
"Yes'm. And I'm awful sorry I upset your basket, but now I'll just dump it out entirely, and clear it up from the beginning; shall I?"
"Yes, do; it always looks so nice after you put it in order."
And so it did, for Marjorie was methodical in details, and she arranged the little reels of silk, and put the needles tidily in their cushion, until the basket was in fine order.
"There," she said, admiring her own work, "don't you touch that, Mother, until after Thanksgiving Day; and then it will be all in order for Mrs. Crawford to see. When is she coming?"
"They'll arrive Wednesday night and stay over until Friday morning. You may help me make the guest-rooms fresh and pretty for them."
"Yes; I'll stick pins in the cushions to makethe letters of their names. Shall I?"
"Well, no; I don't believe I care for that particular fancy. But I'll show you how I do like the pins put in, and you may do it for me. Now, run out and play, we'll have ample time for our housekeeping affairs later on."
Away went Marjorie, after bestowing another tumultuous bear-hug on her mother. She whisked on her hat and coat, and with her mittens still in her hand, flew out of the door, banging it after her.
"Cold weather always goes to that child's muscles," thought Mrs. Maynard, as she heard the noise. "She never bangs doors in summer time."
"Wherever have you been?" cried the others, as Marjorie joined them on the hill.
"Talking to Mother. I meant to come out right away after school, but I forgot about it."
Gladys Fulton looked at her curiously. She wasn't "intimate" with her mother, as Marjorie was, and she didn't quite understand the relationship.
In another minute Midge was on her sled, and,with one red-mittened hand waving on high, was whizzing down the hill.
King caught up to her, and the others followed, and then they all walked back up the hill together.
"Going to have fun, Thanksgiving Day?" asked Dick Fulton, as they climbed along.
"No. We're going to have a silly old Thanksgiving," said Marjorie. "Only grown-ups to visit us, and that means we don't have any good of Father at all."
"Aw, horrid!" said King. "Is that the programme? I didn't know it."
"Yes!" went on Marjorie, "and I've promised Mother to behave myself and to make all you others behave, too." Her own eyes danced, as she said this, and King burst into laughter.
"That's a good one!" he cried. "Why, it will take the whole Maynard family to make you behave yourself, let alone the rest of us."
"No, truly, I'm going to be good, 'cause Mother asked me most 'specially." Marjorie's earnest air was convincing, but King was skeptical.
"You mean to be good, all right," he said,"but at the party you'll do some crazy thing without thinking."
"Very likely," said Mopsy, cheerfully, and then they all slid down hill again.
The day before Thanksgiving Day everything was in readiness for the guests.
Mr. Maynard had come home early, and the whole family were in the drawing-room to await the arrival.
This, in itself, was depressing, for to be dressed up and sitting in state at four o'clock in the afternoon is unusual, and, therefore, uncomfortable.
Marjorie had a new frock, of the material that Kitty called "Alberta Ross." It was very pretty, being white, trimmed here and there with knots of scarlet velvet, and Midget was greatly pleased with it, though she looked longingly out of the window, and thought of her red cloth play-dress and her shining skates.
However, she had promised to be good, and she looked as demure as St. Cecilia, as she sat quietly on the sofa with an eye on the behavior of her younger sisters.
Kitty and Rosy Posy, both in freshly-laundered,white muslin frocks, also sat demurely, with folded hands, while King, rather restlessly, moved about the room, now and then looking from the window.
"You children get on my nerves!" said Mr. Maynard, at last. "I begin to think you're not my own brood at all. Is it necessary, Mother, to have this solemn stillness, just because we expect some friends to see us?"
Mrs. Maynard smiled.
"These children," she said, "have no idea of moderation. Itisn'tnecessary for them to sit like wax-works, but if they didn't they'd be turning somersaults, or upsetting tables,—though, of course, they wouldn't mean to."
"I daresay you're right," said Mr. Maynard, with a sigh, "and I do want them to behave like civilized beings, when our friends come."
"There they are, now!" cried King, as the doorbell was heard. "But I don't see any carriage," he added, looking from the window. In a moment Sarah appeared with a telegram for Mrs. Maynard.
"They are delayed," said that lady, prophetically, "and won't arrive till the next train." But this she said while she was opening theenvelope. As she read the message, her face fell, and she exclaimed, "Oh, they're not coming at all."
"Not coming?" said Mr. Maynard, taking the yellow paper.
"No; Mrs. Crawford's sister is ill, and she can't leave her. Oh, I'm so disappointed!"
"It is too bad, my dear; I'm very sorry for you. I wish they could have let you know sooner."
"Yes, I wish so, too. Then we could have gone out to Grandma Sherwood's for the day."
"Is it too late for that?" asked Marjorie, eagerly. "Can't we get ready, and fly off in a hurry?"
"Youcould," said her father, smiling. "And probably we all could. But Grandma Sherwood couldn't get ready for six starving savages in such short order. Moreover, I fancy Mother has a larder full of good things here that must be eaten by somebody. What shall we do, Helen?"
"I don't know, Ed. I'll leave it to you. Plan anything you like."
"Then I'll leave it to the children. Speak up, friends. Who would you like to ask to eat Thanksgiving dinner with you?"
The children considered.
"It ought to be somebody from out of town," said Marjorie. "That makes it seem more like a special party."
"I'll tell you!" exclaimed Kitty. "Let's ask Molly Moss."
"Just the one!" cried Marjorie. "How'd you come to think of her, Kit? But I 'most know her people won't let her come, and there isn't time, anyway."
"There's time enough," said Mr. Maynard. "I'll call them up on the long-distance telephone now. Then if Molly can come, they can put her on the train to-morrow morning, and we'll meet her here. But I doubt if her mother will spare her on Thanksgiving Day."
However, to Mr. Maynard's surprise, Mrs. Moss consented to let Molly go, and as a neighbor was going on the early morning train, and could look after her, the matter was easily arranged.
Marjorie was in transports of glee.
"I'm truly sorry, Mother," she said, "that you can't have your own company, but, as you can't, I'm so glad Molly is coming. Now, that fixes to-morrow, but what can we do to-day to have fun?"
"I think it's King's turn," said Mr. Maynard."Let him invite somebody to dine with us to-night."
"That's easy," said Kingdon. "I choose Dick and Gladys. We can telephone for them right away."
"They don't seem much like company," said Marjorie, "but I'd rather have them than anybody else I know of."
"Then it's all right," said Mrs. Maynard, "and, as they're not formal company, you'd better all change those partified clothes for something you can romp about in."
"Yes, let's do that," said Kitty. "I can't have fun in dress-up things."
And so it was an informal lot of children who gathered about the dinner-table, instead of the guests who had been expected.
But Mr. Maynard exerted himself quite as much to be entertaining as if he had had grown-up companions, and the party was a merry one indeed.
After dinner the young people were sent to the playroom, as the elders were expecting callers.
"Tell me about Molly Moss," said Gladys to Marjorie. "What sort of a girl is she?"
"Crazy," said Marjorie, promptly. "Younever knew anybody, Glad, who could get up such plays and games as she does. And she gets into terrible mischief, too. She's going to stay several days, and we'll have lots of fun while she's here. At Grandma's last summer, we played together nearly all the time. You'll like her, I know. And she'll likeyou, of course. We'll all have fun together."
Gladys was somewhat reassured, but she had a touch of jealousy in her nature, and, as she was really Marjorie's most intimate friend, she resented a little bit the coming of this stranger.
"She sounds fine," was Dick's comment, as he heard about Molly. "We'll give her the time of her life. Can she skate, Mops?"
"Oh, I guess so. I only knew her last summer, but I'm sure she can do anything."
When Molly arrived the next morning, she flew into the house like a small and well-wrapped-up cyclone. She threw her muff in one direction, and her gloves in another, and made a mad dash for Marjorie.
Then, remembering her manners, she spoke politely to Mrs. Maynard.
"How do you do?" she said; "it was verykind of you to invite me here, and I hope you won't make me any trouble. There! Mother told me to say that, and I've been studying it all the way, for fear I'd forget it."
Mrs. Maynard smiled, for Molly was entirely unaware of the mistake she had made in her mother's message, and the other children had not noticed it, either.
"We're glad to have you with us, my dear," Mrs. Maynard replied; "and I hope you'll enjoy yourself and have a real good time."
"Yes'm," said Molly, "I always do."
Then the children ran away to play out-of-doors until dinner-time.
"It's so queer to be here," said Molly, who had never before been away from home alone.
"It's queer to have you, but it's nice," said Marjorie. "Which do you like best, summer or winter?"
"Both!" declared Molly. "Whichever one it is, I like that one; don't you?"
"Yes, I s'pose so. But I like winter best. There's so much to do. Why, Molly, I'm busy every minute. Of course, school takes most of thetime, so I have to crowd all the fun into the afternoons and Saturdays."
"Oh, is this your hill?" exclaimed Molly, as they reached their favorite coasting-ground. "What a little one! Why, the hills at home are twice as long as this."
"I know it," said Mopsy, apologetically; "but this is the longest one here. Won't it do?"
"Oh, yes," said Molly, who did not mean to be unpleasantly critical, but who was merely surprised. "But you have to be going up and down all the time."
"We do," agreed King. "But it's fun. And, anyway, you have to go up and down all the time if it's a longer hill, don't you?"
"So you do," admitted Molly, "but it seems different."
However, after a few journeys up and down, she declared the hill was a first-rate coaster, and she liked it better than a long one, because it was easier to walk up.
They all liked Molly. Gladys concluded she was a welcome addition to their crowd, and both Kingdon and Dick thought her a jolly girl.
She was daring,—sometimes a little too muchso,—but she was good-natured, and very kind and pleasant.
"Don't you ever hitch on?" she asked, as they all trudged up hill.
"What's that mean?" asked Gladys.
"Why, hitch on behind sleighs. Or big wagon-sleds."
"With horses?"
"Yes, of course. It's lots of fun. Come on, let's try it."
Out to the road they went, and waited for a passing sleigh. Soon Mr. Abercrombie's turnout came by.
This gentleman was one of the richest men in Rockwell, and very dignified and exclusive. Indeed, he was a bit surly, and not very well liked by his fellow townsmen. But he had a fine sleigh and a magnificent pair of horses, which were driven by a coachman in a brave livery and fur cape.
"Please give us a hitch," called out Molly, as the glittering equipage drew near.
"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Abercrombie, as he looked at the child.
Molly was always elf-like in appearance, but the wind had reddened her cheeks, and blown wispsof her straight black hair about her face, until she looked crazier than ever.
The big sleigh had stopped, and Mr. Abercrombie glared at the group of children.
"What did you say?" he demanded, and Molly repeated her request.
Marjorie was a little shocked at the performance, but she thought loyalty to her guest required that she should stand by her, so she stepped to Molly's side and took hold of her hand.
The two surprised boys were about to enter a protest, when Mr. Abercrombie smiled a little grimly, and said:
"Yes, indeed. That's what I'm out for. Martin, fasten these sleds on behind somehow."
The obedient footman left his place, and, though the order must have been an unusual one, he showed no sign of surprise.
"Yes, sir," he said, touching his hat. "Beg pardon, sir, but what shall I fasten them to, sir?"
"I said fasten them to this sleigh! If there isn't any way to do it, invent one. Fasten one sled, and then that can hold the next one, all the way along. Blockhead!"
"Yes, sir; very good, sir." And, touching hishat again, the unperturbed footman went to work. How he did it, they never knew, for the sleigh had not been constructed for the purpose of "giving a hitch" to children's sleds, but somehow the ingenious Martin attached a sled securely to the back of the big sleigh. Molly took her seat thereon, and then another sled was easily fastened to the back of hers. And so on, until all were arranged.
Then the footman calmly returned to his own place, the coachman touched up the horses, the bells jingled gaily, and they were off!
Such a ride as they had! It was ever so much more fun than riding in the sleigh, and though the boys, who were at the end of the line of sleds, fell off occasionally, they floundered on again, and were all right until they turned another sharp corner.
"Thank you,verymuch, mister," said Molly, heartily, as they neared the Maynard home; "we're going to leave you now."
Again the sleigh stopped, the dignified footman came and released the sleds, and, after a chorus of thanks from the merry children, Mr. Abercrombie drove away in his solitary splendor.
"You beat the Dutch, Molly!" cried King."I never should have dreamed of asking Lord Abercrombie, as people call him, to give us a ride."
"I think he liked it as well as we did," said Molly.
"I think so, too," said Marjorie, "and I hope some day he'll take us again."
The Thanksgiving Dinner was a jollification.
The Maynard children were always a merry crowd, but the added element of Molly's gaiety gave a new zest to the fun.
The pretty table decorations, planned for the expected guests, were modified better to suit the children's tastes, and when dinner was announced and they all went out to the dining-room, a general shout of applause was raised.
In the middle of the table was a large "horn of plenty," fashioned of gilded pasteboard. From its capacious mouth were tumbling oranges, apples, bananas, grapes, nuts, figs, and raisins. The horn itself was beautifully decorated, and seemed to be suspended from the chandelier above by red ribbons.
Also, red ribbons, starting from the horn itself,led to each person's plate, and at the end of each ribbon was a name-card.
Gleefully the children took their places, and laughed merrily at the funny little souvenirs that stood at their plates.
Kingdon had a jolly pig, made of a lemon, with wooden toothpicks stuck in for legs, a curly tail made of a bit of celery, and two black-headed pins for eyes.
Marjorie had a horse made of a carrot, which looked like a very frisky steed, indeed.
"It should have been made of a horse-radish," said Mr. Maynard, who was the originator of these toys, "but I feared that would make you weep instead of laugh."
Molly had a gay-looking figure, whose head was a fig, his body a potato, and his legs and arms bunches of raisins. He wore a red fez with a feather in it, and a red tunic tied with gold braid.
Kitty had a nut doll, whose head was a hazelnut, and its body an English walnut. Its feet and hands were peanuts, stuck on the ends of matches.
Rosy Posy had a card on which were several white mice. These were made of blanched almonds,fastened to the card by stitches of thread, which looked like tiny legs and tails.
Mrs. Maynard found at her place a tiny figure of a dancing girl. The head was a small white grape, and the body and ruffled skirts were merely a large carnation turned upside down.
And Mr. Maynard's own souvenir was a funny old fat man, whose body was an apple, and his head a hickory nut.
Molly had never seen such toys before, and she was enraptured with them, declaring she should learn to make them for her friends at home.
"You can do it, if you try," said Marjorie, sagely; "but they aren't easy to make. Father does them so beautifully, because he is patient and careful. But you and I, Molly, are too slapdash. We'd never take pains to make them so neatly."
"Yes, I would," declared Molly, positively; "because I see how nice they look when they're done well! I don't want any broken-legged pigs, or tumble-to-pieces dolls."
"That's the way to talk," said Mr. Maynard, approvingly; "I foresee, Molly, we shall be greatfriends, and I'll teach you the noble art of what I call 'pantry sculpture.'"
After the turkey and other substantial dishes had been disposed of, dessert was brought, and, to the great delight of the children, it comprised many and various confections.
First, there was placed at each plate a dear little mince pie, hot, and covered with a drift of powdered sugar. In the middle of each pie stood a lighted candle.
"Oh, ho, it's somebody's birthday!" cried King, as he saw the candles.
"Somebody's only one year old, then," said Molly.
"These aren't birthday candles exactly," said Mr. Maynard. "They're just candles to keep the pies hot. But as I want to eat my pie, I'll just eat the candle first, and get it out of the way."
So saying, he calmly blew out the flame, and in a moment had eaten the candle, wick and all!
"Oh, Father!" cried Marjorie. "How could you do that? Do you like wax candles?"
"These candles aren't exactly wax," said herfather, "and I must say mine tasted very good."
Molly's bright black eyes snapped.
"If Mr. Maynard can eat candles, so can I!" she declared, and, blowing out the flame, she bit off the end of her own candle.
"Itisgood," she said, as she munched it. "I like candles, too."
So then they all tried eating candles. Marjorie tasted hers carefully, and then took a larger bite.
"Why, it's apple!" she cried. And so it was. The "candles" had been cut with an apple-corer, and the "wicks" were bits of almond cut the right shape and stuck in the top of the candle. The oil in the nut causes it to burn for a few moments, and the whole affair looks just like a real candle.
The mince pies were followed by ice-cream, and that by fruits and candies, and then the feast was over, but every one carried away the jolly little souvenirs to keep as mementoes of the occasion. Skating was the order of the afternoon.
Mr. Maynard went with the older children, while Mrs. Maynard and Rosy Posy amused themselves at home.
Kitty couldn't skate very well, but all the otherswere fairly good skaters, and soon they were gliding over the ice, while Mr. Maynard pushed Kitty in a sliding chair. She thought she had the most fun of all, but the others preferred their own feet to a chair, and skated tirelessly around the lake, not at all dismayed by somewhat frequent upsets and tumbledowns.
The Fultons joined them, and several others, and Molly soon made acquaintance with many of the Maynards' friends.
Molly was such a daring child that Mr. Maynard carefully warned her about going near the thin places in the ice, and she promised to avoid them. But it was with some uneasiness he watched the young skaters, when, at Molly's suggestion, they played "Snap the Whip."
This meant to join hands in a long row, and, after skating rapidly, the one at the end stood still and swung the others round like the lash of a whip. No trouble was likely to occur if they held hands firmly. But to separate meant that the end ones would be whirled away, and might get a bad fall.
As the boys were strong and sturdy, and thegirls had promised to hold on tightly and carefully, Mr. Maynard let them play this game, though he had always thought it a dangerous sport.
"Just once more," begged Marjorie, when at last he told them he would rather they'd play something else—and permission was given for one more "Snap the Whip," on condition that it should be the last. And it was.
Marjorie was on one end, and Molly was next to her.
Kingdon was at the other end, and, after a few vigorous strokes, he pulled the line about so suddenly that Molly, who was not expecting it so soon, was jerked away from her next neighbor.
She and Marjorie were flung with force across the ice, but they were quite alert, kept their balance perfectly, and would have been skating back again in a minute, but they chanced upon a thin place in the ice, and it broke through, and in they went!
Many of the children screamed, but Molly's voice rang out clear above the rest:
"Don't yell so! We're all right, only it's awful cold. Just get us out as quick as you can."
Relieved to learn that they hadn't gone underthe water, Mr. Maynard soon found a fence-rail, and, with the boys' assistance, it was not long before the dripping girls were once more outside the lake, instead of inside.
"No harm done, if you obey my orders," said Mr. Maynard, cheerily, for the two white faces looked more scared than they had at first. He hurriedly took off their skates, and then said, "Now, run for home, just as fast as you can go, and the one who gets there first shall have a prize."
A little bewildered by this order, but quite ready to obey, Marjorie started at once and fairly flew over the hard ground. Molly followed, and in a moment had overtaken and passed Midget. But spurred by this, Midget ran faster, and at last, quite out of breath, and also quite warm, they reached the Maynard house at almost exactly the same time.
Exhausted, they tumbled in at the door, and Mrs. Maynard met them in the hall.
"Whatisthe matter?" she exclaimed. "Wherehaveyou been?"
"Skating," said Marjorie, hurriedly, "and wefell in, and Father said to run home quick and get dry shoes and things and he'd give us a prize."
"A prize!" said Mrs. Maynard, laughing. "You deserve a prize, indeed! A hot bath is what you'll get, and a drink of hot milk."
"All right," said Mopsy, cheerfully, "I don't mind; and, while we're about it, we may as well dress for afternoon."
The programme was carried out as arranged, and not very long after two spick-and-span little girls were sitting by the library fire, sipping hot milk with nutmeg in it.
"Well, upon my word!" said Mr. Maynard, coming in with King and Kitty. "I must have been mistaken! Only a short time ago I saw two children floundering in the lake, and I thought—I truly did—that they were Midge and Molly! How could I have made such a foolish mistake?"
"It was strange, indeed!" said Molly, with twinkling eyes. "Have you been skating, Mr. Maynard?"
"Part of the time. But the rest of the time I was organizing and assisting a rescue party to save those foolish children I was just telling you of."
"We were foolish!" cried Marjorie, jumpingup and running to her father's arms. "I'll never do it again, Daddy, dear."
"Indeed you won't, my lady. I hereby issue a mandamus, a fiat, a writ,—and if you don't know what those things are, I'll say a plain every-day rule that is not to be broken,—that you are never to play 'Snap the Whip' again. This is a rule for Marjorie, and to you, Molly, it's a piece of advice."
"I'll take it," said Molly, so meekly that Mr. Maynard smiled, and said:
"Now that incident is closed, and we needn't mention it again. I don't believe you'll even take cold from your sudden plunge, for you both ran home like killdeer. And, by the way, who won the prize?"
"We came in almost exactly together," said Marjorie. "I was a little bit ahead at the door, but Molly was first at the gate, so isn't that even?"
"It surely is, and so you must both have prizes. I haven't them with me at the moment, but I'll engage to supply them before Molly goes home."
Thanksgiving evening was given over to gamesand quiet frolics.
Mrs. Maynard said the children had had enough excitement for one day, and they must play only sitting-still games, and then go to bed early. So Mr. Maynard proposed a game in which all could join, and when it was finished it would be bedtime for young people.
He produced a large spool, through which had been run a number of different colored and very narrow ribbons. Mr. Maynard held the spool, with the short ends of the ribbons hanging out toward himself, while the long ends of the ribbons, which reached across the room were apportioned one to each child.
They were allowed to select their own colors, and Marjorie took red, and Molly pink. Kitty had the blue one, and King a yellow one. Mrs. Maynard held a white one, and as Rosamond had gone to bed, no more ribbons were used, though there were others in the spool.
"Now," said Mr. Maynard, "I'll begin to tell a story, make it up as I go along, you know, and then when I stop I'll pull one of these ends. I won't look to see which one I pull, but whoeverholds the other end of the same ribbon, must take up the story and go on with it. Do you understand?"
"Yes," said all the children at once; so Mr. Maynard began:
"Once on a time there was a Princess who hadn't any name. The reason for this sad state of affairs was that no one could think of a name good enough for her. She was so beautiful and so lovely and sweet-tempered that every name seemed commonplace, and the King and Queen who were her parents offered a great reward to any one who would suggest a name that seemed appropriate. But, though they proposed every name that was known, and made up a great many more, none seemed to suit, and so the Princess grew up without any name at all. But one day her grandmother gave her a lovely little writing-desk for a birthday present. The Princess was delighted, and immediately she learned to write letters. But, strange to say, she never received any answers to the letters she sent. Days passed, and weeks passed, but nobody answered the letters. She went to the Court Wise Man, and said to him:
"'Prithee, tell me, oh, Seer, why do my friendsnot answer the letters I have sent them?'
"'Oh, Princess!' said the Court Wise Man, 'it is because you have no name, and, though they have already written letters to you, they know not how to address them. For how can one address a letter to a nameless person?'
"'How, indeed!' cried the Princess. 'But I will have a name. I will choose one for myself.'
"So she sat down, and thought deeply for a long time, and then she jumped up, saying:
"'I have chosen a name! I shall henceforth be called——'"
Mr. Maynard made a dramatic pause, and then pulled quickly on one of the ends of ribbon that hung from his side of the spool.