Miss Hart, Delight's new governess, who came out from New York with Mr.Spencer, listened to the doctor's story with a grave face.
"And I think, Miss Hart," said Doctor Mendel, in conclusion, "that you would better stay in Rockwell over night, and return to the city tomorrow."
"Idon'tthink so!" said Miss Hart, with such emphasis that the three men looked at her in surprise.
"If you will go home with me," said Mr. Maynard, "Mrs. Maynard will give you a warm welcome, and then you can decide to-morrow on your further plans."
"No," said Miss Hart, who seemed to be a young woman of great decision of character, "I shall go straight to Mrs. Spencer's. I am engaged to go there to-night, and I want to go. I am not at all afraid of the diphtheria, and as Delight is perfectly well, she can begin her lessons just as we planned to do. This will keep her interested and prevent her from worrying as much as if she were idle. And then, if anything should happen, I will be there to assist Mrs. Spencer."
"Thank you, Miss Hart," said Mr. Spencer, shaking her hand. "You are a noble woman, and I shall be so glad to have you there with my wife. I've been trying to think how I could get a companion for her, but none of her city friends would enter the house, nor could they be expected to. And, of course, no Rockwell neighbors can go in. But you will be a tower of strength, and I shall be immensely relieved to have you there."
Doctor Mendel was pleased too, at the turn affairs had taken, for he feared Mrs. Spencer would break down under the nervous strain, if she had to bear her trouble alone.
So when Mr. Maynard took Mr. Spencer to his own home, Doctor Mendel tookMiss Hart to Mrs. Spencer's.
"I've brought you another visitor," he cried, cheerily, as he entered the quarantined house.
"Why, Doctor," said Mrs. Spencer, "you said nobody could come in!"
"No, not if they're to go out again. But Miss Hart has come to stay."
"Oh, how splendid!" cried Mrs. Spencer, "are you really willing to do so?"
"Yes, indeed," answered Miss Hart. "And it looks to me as if I should have two pupils instead of one." She looked kindly at Marjorie, who smiled in return, though she did not at all feel sure that she wanted lessons added to her other troubles.
But Miss Hart seemed to ignore the fact that there were any troubles for anybody.
She talked pleasantly, even gaily, with Mrs. Spencer. She chatted merrily with Delight and Marjorie; and she even went out and spoke very kindly to the afflicted Maggie. And it was partly due to her suggestions that Mary, who was acting as cook, added some special dainties to the menu, and sent up an unusually good dinner. The party that gathered round the table was not a sad one, but this was due to the combined efforts of Miss Hart and Marjorie.
Midget remembered her father's rules, and pretended she was just staying with the Spencers for one night. She was so fond of "pretending," that this part came easy. Then she had put out of her mind the idea that she might have the diphtheria, and moreover, she was trying really hard not to be sorry for herself. In consequence of all this, she was gay and merry, and she was helped to be so by Miss Hart, who was good cheer itself.
The new governess was a pretty little woman, with smooth dark hair, and snapping black eyes, that seemed to read people's innermost thoughts. Although not entirely unacquainted with the Spencers, she had never before lived with them, but had been governess in the family of a friend of theirs. She was anxious for this new position, and Mrs. Spencer, who had been pleased to have her come, was doubly glad to have her in this emergency.
"We won't begin to-morrow," said Miss Hart, when the subject of lessons was broached, "but I think we'll begin next day. We'll spend to-morrow getting acquainted, and learning to like each other. You'll join the class, won't you, Marjorie?"
"Yes, I think I'd like study that way," said Midge; "but I don't like school."
"I'll guarantee you'll like study in our class," said Miss Hart, smiling; "you'll be sorry when school hours are over."
Midge could hardly think this, but of one thing she was certain, thatMiss Hart would be a pleasant teacher.
Soon after dinner, Marjorie's suitcase arrived.
James brought it over, and set it on the front porch and rang the bell. Then he went away before the door was opened, as he had been instructed to do.
When Marjorie opened the bag she found a note from each of the family, and they were all written in verse.
She read them aloud to the Spencer household and soon they were all laughing at the nonsense rhymes.
Her mother had written:
"Midget, Midget,Don't be in a fidget.Don't be sad and tearful,Just be gay and cheerful;Don't be sadly sighing,For the days are flying,And some day or otherYou'll come home toMOTHER."
"Why, that's as good as a valentine," said Miss Hart, as Midget finished reading the lines.
"So it is!" said Marjorie, smiling; "I'm going to pretend they're all valentines. Here's father's."
"Marjorie, Midget Mopsy,The world is tipsy-topsy!When I am hereAnd you are thereI feel all wipsy-wopsy!But soon you will be home once more,And all will be as it was before;So make the most of your fortnight's stay,For I cannot spare you another day!"
By this time Delight's spirits had risen to such an extent that she exclaimed:
"I think it's splendid to have Marjorie here for two weeks!"
"We'll make a picnic of it," said Miss Hart. "You girls won't often have two weeks together, so we must cram all the pleasure into it we can."
Cramming pleasure into this dreadful time was a new idea to Delight, but she was willing to agree to it, and Marjorie said:
"I think we can be happy if we try. But we have to forget the bad parts and only remember the good."
"That's it," said Miss Hart. "Now read us another of your letters. I'm sure they're good parts."
"This one is from King,—that's Kingdon, my brother," explained Marjorie, as she took up the next note.
"Mops is a captive Princess now,She can't get out of prison;But when it's time to let her go,Oh, won't she come home whizzin'!This poetry isn't very good,But it's the best that I can sing,I would do better if I could,And I'm your loving brotherKING."
"What a jolly boy!" said Miss Hart, "I'd like to know him."
"You will," said Midget, "after our two weeks' picnic is over." She smiled at Miss Hart as she said this, accepting her idea of making a picnic of their enforced imprisonment.
"Now, here's Kitty's," she went on. "Kitty's not a very good poet, but she always wants to do what the rest do."
"Marjorie Maynard nice and sweet,Has to stay across the street.Fourteen days and fourteen nights,Visiting her friend Delight.Marjorie Maynard, nice and pretty,Come home soon to sisterKITTY."
"Why, I think that's fine," said Miss Hart. "Your family are certainly devoted to you."
"Yes, they are," said Midget. "There's another,—Rosy Posy,—but she's only five. She can't write poetry."
"Can you?" asked Miss Hart.
"Yes, I can make as good verses as Kit; but not as good as King or father. We always make verses for each other on birthdays, so we get lots of practise. And we made some valentine verses this afternoon, didn't we, Delight?"
"Yes, that is, you did. But, oh, Marjorie, we can't send those valentines! Nothing like that can go out of the house!"
"Oh, pshaw, I don't believe they could do any harm."
"Well, Doctor Mendel said we mustn't send a letter of any sort, and a valentine is just the same, you know."
"What do you think, Miss Hart?" asked Marjorie.
"I'm afraid you can't send them, my dear. But we'll ask the doctor.Perhaps, if they're disinfected—"
"Oh, horrors!" cried Midget; "a valentine disinfected! Of all things! Why, it would smell of that horrid sulphur stuff instead of a sweet violet scent! Nobody would want that sort of a valentine."
"No, they wouldn't," agreed Delight. "Oh, dear, it's too bad!"
"Never mind, Delight," said Marjorie. "We can send valentines to each other, and to Miss Hart, and to your mother. Oh, yes, and to Maggie and Mary. I guess that's about all. But everybody can send them to us! That will be lots of fun! It seems selfish, doesn't it, to get lots of valentines and not send any? But it isn't selfish, because we can't help it."
"I can send to my friends in New York," said Delight, thoughtfully, "by letting father get them and send them. I can telephone him a list, you know. It isn't as much fun as if I picked them out myself, but I don't want the girls to think I've forgotten them."
"If they know about the quarantine, they won't open the valentines," suggested Marjorie; "they'll think they came from this house, and they'll be frightened."
"That's so," agreed Delight; "unless they look at the postmark and it'sNew York."
"Well, then, if they don't know your father's writing, they'll never know they came from you anyway."
"No, they won't. But then people never are supposed to know who sends a valentine."
"Then what's the good of sending any?"
"Oh, it always comes out afterward. I hardly ever get any that I don't find out who they're from, sooner or later."
"Nor I either. Well, we'll do the best we can."
Marjorie sighed a little, for Valentine Day was always a gay season in the Maynard home, but she had promised not to be sorry for herself, so she put the thought away from her mind.
As Mrs. Spencer's room opened into Delight's, she decided to give that to Marjorie, and take the guest room herself. She felt sorry for the child, held there by an unfortunate accident, and determined to do all she could to make her stay pleasant. And she thought, too, it would please Delight to have Marjorie in the room next her own. So when the two girls went upstairs that night, they were greatly pleased to find themselves in communicating rooms.
"We can pretend, while we're getting ready for bed," said Delight, and soon, in her little kimono, and bedroom slippers, she stalked into Midget's room and said, with despairing gestures:
"Fellow princess, our doom hath befell. We are belocked in a prison grim, and I fear me, nevermore will we be liberated."
"Say not so, Monongahela," answered Marjorie, clasping her hands."Methinks ere morning dawns, we may yet be free."
"Nay, oh, nay! the terrible jailer, the Baron Mendel, he hast decreed that we stay be jailed for two years."
"Two years!" gasped Midget, falling in a pretended swoon. "Ere that time passes, I shall be but a giggling maniac."
"Gibbering, you mean. Aye, so shall I."
"Well, stop your gibbering for to-night," said Mrs. Spencer, who came in, laughing; "you can gibber to-morrow, if you like, but now you must go to bed. Fly, fair princess, with golden hair!"
Delight flew, and Mrs. Spencer tucked Marjorie up in bed, in an effort to make the child feel at home.
There wasn't the least resemblance between Mrs. Spencer's ways, and those of her own mother, but Marjorie was appreciative of her hostess's kind intent, and said good-night to Mrs. Spencer very lovingly. At first, there was a strong inclination to cry a little, but remembering she must not be sorry for herself, Marjorie smiled instead, and in a few moments she was smiling in her sleep. Next morning, she put on the morning dress that had come over in the suitcase, and went downstairs with Delight.
"It's just like having a sister," said Delight. "I do believe, Marjorie, I'm glad all this happened. Of course, I don't mean I'm glad Maggie's baby is so sick, but I'm glad you're staying here."
"I can't quite say that, Delight, but as I am here, I'm not going to fuss about it. There's the telephone! perhaps it's Father!"
It was Mr. Maynard, and his cheery good-morning did Marjorie's heart good.
"All serene on the Rappahannock?" he asked.
"All serene!" replied Marjorie. "The verses were fine! I was so glad to get them."
"Did you sleep well? Have you a good appetite for breakfast? Did you remember my rules? May I send you a small gift to-day? Do you think it will rain? Don't you want your kitten sent over?"
"Wait,—wait a minute," cried Marjorie. "Your questions come so fast I can't answer them,—but, yes, I would like a small gift to-day."
"Aha! I thought you'd pick out that question of all the bunch to answer. Well, you'll get it when I return from the great city. Meantime, be good and you'll be happy, and I'm proud of you, my little girl."
"Proud of me! Why?"
"Because I can tell by your voice that you're cheerful and pleasant, and that's all I ask of you. Good-bye, Mopsy, I must go for my train. The others will talk to you later on."
"Good-bye, Father, and I would like the kitten sent over."
Marjorie left the telephone with such a happy face that Miss Hart, who had just come downstairs, said:
"I'm sure you had pleasant messages from home."
"Yes, indeed," said Midget. "It was Father. He's always so merry and jolly."
"And you inherit those traits. I like fun, too. I think we shall be great friends."
"I think so too," agreed Midget, and then they all went to breakfast.
The day started auspiciously enough, but after Midge had telephoned to the rest of her family there seemed to be nothing to do. Delight had a headache, brought on probably by the excitement of the day before, and she didn't feel like playing princess.
There was no use finishing the valentines, for Doctor Mendel said they must not send them to anybody.
Miss Hart was in her own room, and the morning dragged.
Marjorie almost wished she could go to school, and she certainly wished she could go out to play. But the doctor's orders were strict against their leaving the house, so she sat down in the library to read a story-book. Delight wandered in.
"I think you might entertain me," she said; "my head aches awfully."
"Shall I read to you?" asked Midget. She had had little experience with headaches, and didn't quite know what to do for them.
"Yes, read a fairy story."
So Midget good-naturedly laid aside her own book, and read aloud toDelight until her throat was tired.
"Go on," said Delight, as she paused.
"I can't," said Midget, "for it hurts my throat."
"Oh, pshaw, what a fuss you are! I think you might read; it's the only thing that makes me forget my headache."
So Marjorie began again, and read until Delight fell asleep.
"I'm glad I kept on," thought Midget to herself; "though it did make my throat all scratchy. But I mustn't be sorry for myself, so I'm glad I was sorry for Delight. Maybe a little nap will make her head better."
Leaving Delight asleep, Marjorie wandered out to the dining-room, where Mrs. Spencer was assisting the waitress in her duties. As Maggie was not allowed to leave the sick-room, Mary, the waitress, did the cooking, and this left many smaller offices to be performed by Mrs. Spencer.
"Can't I help you?" asked Marjorie, who was at her wits' end for occupation.
Usually, she could entertain herself for any length of time, but the strangeness of her surroundings, and a general feeling of homesickness made books or games unattractive.
"Why, no, Marjorie; little girls can't help," said Mrs. Spencer, who never thought of calling on Delight for assistance.
"Oh, yes, I can; truly I can do lots of things. Mayn't I put away that silver?"
"No; you don't know where it belongs. But if want to help me, can't you attend to Delight's canary? He hasn't had his bath, and Mary is too busy to do it. Do you know how?"
"Oh, yes; I often give our bird his bath, and clean his cage, and give him fresh seed and water. Where shall I find the birdseed?"
"In the small cupboard in Delight's playroom, the room where the bird is, you know."
"Yes'm, I know."
Marjorie ran upstairs, interested in this work, and taking the cage from its hook, set it on the table. She found the little bathtub and filled it with water of just the right warmth, and taking the upper part of the cage from its base, set it over the tub, which she had carefully placed on a large newspaper.
"There," she said, "spatter away as much as you like, while I cut a nice round paper carpet for your cage. I don't know your name, but I shall call you Buttercup, because you're so yellow."
The bird cocked his black eye at her, and seemed to approve of his new attendant, for he hopped into his bath, and splashed the water vigorously.
"You're a nice little Buttercup," went on Midget; "some bad little birdies won't jump in and bathe. There, I think that's enough; you'll wash all your feathers off! Here you go back home again."
She replaced the cage, filled the seed and water vases, and hung it back on its hook.
Midget was a capable little girl, and she took away the bathtub, and tidied up all traces of her work, as neatly as Mary could have done. Then she looked around for more worlds to conquer.
She saw the aquarium, a small round one, all of glass, in which were four goldfish.
"I think I'll give you a bath," said Midget to the fishes, laughing at the absurdity of the idea. But as she stood watching them, she observed the green mossy slime that covered the stones and shells at the bottom of the aquarium, and it occurred to her that it would be a good idea to clean them.
"There's a small scrubbing-brush in the bathroom," she said to herself, "and I can scrub them clean, and put in fresh water, and Mrs. Spencer will be so surprised and pleased."
She was about to bring a bowl of water from the bathroom to put the stones in while she scrubbed them, but she thought since there was already water in the glass, she might as well use that, and then get clean water for the fishes afterward.
"But I don't believe they'll like the soap," she thought, as, scrub-brush in hand, she was about to dip the soap in the water. "So I'll lay them aside while I scrub."
Marjorie had never had any goldfish, and knew nothing about them, so with no thought save to handle them gently, she took them out of the water, and laid them on the table in the sunlight.
She caught them by the simple process of using her handkerchief as a drag-net, and with great care, laid them softly down on the felt table-cover.
"There, fishies," she said, "don't take to your heels and run away. I'll soon clean up these dirty old stones and shells, then I'll give you nice fresh water, and put you back home again."
The stones and shells did look better, according to Midget's way of thinking, after she had vigorously scrubbed the moss from them. They shone glistening, and white, and she put them back in the aquarium and filled it with clean water, and then went for the fish.
"Ah, taking a nap, are you?" she said, as the four lay quiet on the table. But when she carefully put them back in the water, and they didn't wriggle or squirm a bit, she knew at once they were dead.
"You horrid things!" cried Midget, "what did you go and die for, just when I was fixing up your cage so nice? You're not really dead, are you? Wake up!"
She poked and pinched them to no avail.
"Oh, dear!" she sighed, "whenever I try to be good and helpful, I'm bad and troublesome. Now I must go and tell Mrs. Spencer about it. I wonder what she'll say. I wish I could tell mother first, but they'd hear me on the telephone. Perhaps the old things will come alive again. Maybe they've only fainted."
But no sign of life came from the four victims, who calmly floated on top of the water, as if scorning the clean white stones and shells below. They looked so pretty and so pathetic, that Marjorie burst into tears, and ran downstairs in search of Mrs. Spencer. That lady heard the tale with a look of mingled amusement and annoyance on her face.
"I've heard you were a mischievous child," she said, "but I didn't think you'd begin your pranks so soon."
"But it wasn't pranks, Mrs. Spencer," said Midget, earnestly. "I truly wanted to be help, fill, and I fixed the bird's cage so nicely, I thought I'd fix the fishes' cage too."
"But you must have known that fishes die out of water."
"No'm; I didn't. At least,—it seems to me now that I ought to have known it, but I didn't think about it when I took 'em out. You see, I never had any goldfish of my own."
"Well, don't worry about it, child. It can't be helped now. But I supposeDelight will feel terribly. She was so fond of her goldfish."
"I'm sure Father will let me give her some more," said Midget, "but I suppose she won't care for any others."
She went back to the library, where she had left Delight asleep, and found her just waking up.
"Delight," she said, wanting to get it over as soon as possible, "I've killed all four of your goldfish!"
"On purpose?" said Delight, still sleepy and uncomprehending.
"No, of course not. It was an accident. I just laid them on the table while I cleaned the aquarium, and they fainted away and staid fainted. I guess they must have been sick before."
"No, they weren't. They were awfully frisky yesterday. I think you're real mean, Marjorie."
"I'm awful sorry, Delight, truly I am. But I'm 'most sure Father will let me give you other fish to make up for them."
"But they won't be the same fish."
"No, of course not. But we'll get prettier ones."
"Oh, no, you needn't get any fish at all. I'd rather have a kitten."
"Oh, I can get you a kitten easily enough. James always knows where to get them. What color do you want?"
"Gray; Maltese, you know. Will he get it to-day?"
"I'll ask Mother to ask him to-day. He'll get it soon, I know."
"All right; I'd heaps rather have that than fish. I'm tired of goldfish, anyway. You can't cuddle them like you can kittens. And I never had a kitten."
"You didn't! Why, Delight Spencer! I never heard of a girl that hadneverhad a kitten! I'll ask Mother to see about it right away. Do you want two?"
"Yes, as many as I can have. I ought to have four to make up for those goldfish."
"You can have four, if your mother'll let you," said Midget. "Ask her."
"Oh, she'll let me. She never says no to anything I want. Does your mother?"
"Yes, often. But then, I want such crazy things."
"So do I. But I get them. Go on and see about the kittens."
So Midget went to the telephone and told her mother the whole story about the goldfish.
Mrs. Maynard was surprised at Marjorie's ignorance of fish's habits, but she didn't scold.
"I do think," she said "that you should have known better; but of course I know you didn't intend to harm the fish. And anyway we won't discuss it over the telephone. I'll wait until we're together again."
"You'll have to keep a list of all my mischief, Mother," said Midget, cheerfully; "and do up the scolding and punishing all at once, when I get home."
"Yes, but don't get into mischief while you're over there. Do try,Marjorie, to behave yourself."
"I will, Mother, but I'm so tired of staying here I don't know what to do. Delight heard me say that, but I can't help it. I expect she's tired of having me here."
"I am not!" declared Delight; "now ask her about the kittens."
So Marjorie asked her mother about the kittens, and Mrs. Maynard promised to ask James to see if he couldn't find some that would be glad of a good home.
And so anxious was James to please his dear Miss Marjorie, and so numerous were kittens among James' circle of personal acquaintances, that that very afternoon, a basket was set on the Spencer's porch and the door bell was rung.
Mary opened the door and saw the basket, well-covered over.
"The saints presarve us!" she cried; "sure, it's a baby!"
She brought the basket in, and Mrs. Spencer turned back the folded blanket, and disclosed four roly-poly kittens all cuddled into one heap of fur.
"Oh!" cried Delight, "did you ever see anything so lovely! Midget, I'msoglad you killed the goldfish! These are a million times nicer."
"But you could have had these too," said Marjorie; "and anyway, I'll probably put these in the aquarium and drown them, by mistake!"
"Indeed you won't!" said Delight, cuddling the little balls of fur. "Oh,Mother, aren't theydear?"
"They are very cunning," answered Mrs. Spencer, "and I'm glad you have them. Though four seems a good many. Don't you want to give them some milk?"
"Oh, yes; and we'll teach them all to eat from one saucer, so they'll be loving and affectionate."
The kittens showed no desire to be other than affectionate, and amicably lapped up milk from the same saucer, without dispute.
There was one white, one Maltese, one black, and one yellow, and Marjorie felt sure James had chosen the prettiest he could find.
"Now to name them," said Delight. "Let's choose lovely names. You'll help us, won't you, Miss Hart?"
"You ought to call the white one Pop Corn," said Miss Hart, "for it's just like a big kernel of freshly popped corn."
"I will," said Delight, "for it's like that; but as that's a hard name to say, I'll call her Poppy for short. A white poppy, you know. Now the black one?"
"Blackberry," suggested Marjorie, and that was the chosen name. The yellow one was named Goldenrod, and the gray one Silverbell, and the four together made as pretty a picture as you could imagine. The girls spent an hour or more playing with them and watching their funny antics, and then Miss Hart proposed that they, crochet balls of different color for each little cat.
Mrs. Spencer provided a box of worsted and they chose the colors.
A red ball was to be made for Blackberry, and a light blue one for Poppy.Goldenrod was to have a yellow one, and Silverbell a pink one.
Miss Hart showed the girls how to crochet a round cover, hooping it to form a ball, and then stuffing it tightly with worsted just before finishing it.
They made the four balls and tried to teach the kittens to remember their own colors. But in this they were not very successful, as the kittens liked the balls so much they played with any one they could catch.
When Mr. Maynard came home, true to his word, he sent Marjorie a gift.
The bell rang, and there on the doorstep lay a parcel.
It proved to contain two picture puzzles.
"Oh, goody!" cried Midget. "These are just what I wanted. I've heard about them, but I've never had any, and Father told me last week he'd get me one. One's for you, Delight, and one's for me. Which do you choose?"
"Left hand," said Delight, as Marjorie's hands went behind her.
"All right; here it is."
"But I don't know how to do puzzles. I never saw one like this."
"If you knew how to do it, it wouldn't be a puzzle. I don't know either; but we'll learn."
"I'll show you how to begin," said Miss Hart. "Wait a minute."
She went out to the dining-room, and returned with two trays, oblong, square-cornered and of fairly good size.
"Make your puzzles on these," she said, "and then you can carry them around while working on them, if you want to. You can't do that, if you make them right on the table."
So with the trays on the table in front of them the girls began. Each puzzle had about a hundred and fifty pieces, and they were not easy ones. Miss Hart showed them how to find pieces that fitted each other; but would not help them after the first two or three bits were joined, for she said the fun was in doing it themselves.
"But I can't!" said Midge, looking perfectly hopeless; "these pieces are all brownish and greenish and I don't know what they are."
"I see," said Delight, her eyes sparkling; "you must find a face, or something that you can tell what it is, and start from that."
"But there isn't any face here," said Midget; "here's one eye,—if itisan eye!"
"Begin with that," advised Miss Hart. "Find some more of a face to go with it."
"Oh, yes; here's a nose and lips! Why, it just fits in!"
Soon the two children were absorbed in the fascinating work. It was a novelty, and it happened to appeal to both of them.
"Don't look at each other's picture," warned Miss Hart, "and then, when both are done, you can exchange and do each other's. It's no fun if you see the picture before you try to make it."
"Some pieces of mine must be missing," declared Marjorie; "there's no piece at all to go into this long, narrow curving space."
Miss Hart smiled, for she had had experience in this pastime.
"Everybody thinks pieces are lost at some stage of the work," she said; "never mind that space, Marjorie, keep on with the other parts."
"Oh!" cried Delight. "I can see part of the picture now! It's going to be a—"
"Don't tell!" interrupted Miss Hart; "after you've each done both of them, you can look at the finished pictures together. But now, keep it secret what the pictures are about."
So the work went on, and now and then a chuckle of pleasure or an exclamation of impatience would tell of the varying fortunes of the workers.
"Oh!" cried Delight. "I just touched a piece to straighten it, and I joggled the whole thing out of place!"
Then Miss Hart showed them how to take a ruler and straighten the edges,—if the edges were built; and how to crowd a corner down into a corner of the tray, and so keep the pieces in place. So engrossed were the two that Mrs. Spencer had difficulty to persuade them to come to dinner.
"Oh, Mother," cried Delight, "do wait till I find this lady's other arm.I'm sure I saw it a moment ago."
And Marjorie lingered, looking for a long triangle with a notch in the end.
But at last they set their trays carefully away, at different ends of the room, and even laid newspapers over them, so they shouldn't see each other's puzzle.
"That's the most fun of any game I ever played," said Delight, as she took her seat at the table.
"I think so too," said Midge; "are there many of them made, Miss Hart?"
"Thousands, my dear. And all, or nearly all, different."
"When we finish these," said Delight, "I'll ask my father to bring us some more. I just love to do them."
"You musn't do too many," said Miss Hart; "that stooping position is not good for little girls if kept up too long at a time."
"It did make the back of my neck ache," said Delight; "but I don't mind, it's such fun to see the picture come."
The next day lessons began. Miss Hart and Mrs. Spencer agreed that it would be better for the two little girls to have regular school hours, and Delight was glad to have Marjorie at her lessons with her.
Midge herself was not overpleased at the prospect, but her parents had approved of the plan, and had sent over her school-books.
The play-room was used as a school-room, and a pleasant enough room it was.
When the girls went in, at nine o'clock, it didn't seem a bit like school.
Miss Hart, in a pretty light house-dress, sat in a low rocker by the window. There was nothing suggesting a desk, and on a near-by table were a few books and a big bowl of flowers.
The girls sat where they chose, on the couch or in chairs, and as Midget told her mother afterward, it seemed more like a children's party than school.
"First, let's read a story," said Miss Hart, and Marjorie's eyes opened wider than ever.
"Aren't we going to have school to-day?" she asked.
"Yes, Marjorie; this is school. Here are your books,—we'll each have one."
She gave them each a copy of a pretty looking book, and asked them to open it at a certain page.
Then Miss Hart read aloud a few pages, and the girls followed her in their own books. Then she asked Delight to read, and as she did so, Miss Hart stopped her occasionally to advise her about her manner of reading. But she did this so pleasantly and conversationally that it didn't seem at all like a reading-lesson, although that's really what it was.
Marjorie's turn came next, and by this time she had become so interested in the story, that she began at once, and read so fast, that she went helter-skelter, fairly tumbling over herself in her haste.
"Wait, Marjorie, wait!" cried Miss Hart, laughing at her. "The end of the story will keep; it isn't going to run away. Don't try so hard to catch it!"
Marjorie smiled herself, as she slowed down, and tried to read more as she should.
But Miss Hart had to correct her many times, for Midget was not a good reader, and did not do nearly so well as Delight.
And though Miss Hart's corrections were pleasantly and gently made, she was quite firm about them, and insisted that Marjorie should modulate her voice, and pronounce her words just as she was told.
"What a fine story!" exclaimed Delight, as they finished it.
"Oh, isn't it great!" exclaimed Marjorie; "do you call this book a'Reader,' Miss Hart?"
"Yes, I call it a Reader. But then I call any book a Reader that I choose to have my pupils read from. This book is named 'Children's Stories From English Literature,' so you see, by using it, we study literature and learn to read at the same time. The one we read to-day, 'The Story of Robin Hood,' is a story you ought to know well, and we will read other versions of it some day. Now, we will talk about it a little."
And then they had a delightful talk about the story they had read, and Miss Hart told them many interesting things concerning it, and the children asked questions; and then Miss Hart had them read certain portions of the story again, and this time she said Marjorie read much better.
"For I understand now," said Midge, "what I'm reading about. And, oh,Miss Hart, I'm crazy to tell King all about it! He'll just love to playRobin Hood!"
"Yes," said Miss Hart, "it makes a fine game for out-of-doors. Perhaps some day we'll find a story that we can play indoors, while you poor prisoners are kept captive."
Marjorie gave a little sigh of pleasure. If this was school, it was a very nice kind of school indeed, but she supposed that arithmetic and spelling and all those horrid things were yet to come. And sure enough, Miss Hart's next words brought sorrow to her soul.
"Now, girlies, we'll just have a little fun with arithmetic. I happen to know you both hate it so perhaps if you each hold a kitten in your arm it will cheer your drooping spirits a little."
Marjorie laughed outright at this. Kittens in school were funny indeed!
"Yes," said Miss Hart, laughing with Marjorie, "it's like Mary's little lamb, you know. I never forgave Mary's teacher for turning him out I think kittens in school are lovely. I'll hold one myself."
Then the girls drew nearer to Miss Hart, who had a large pad of paper and a pencil but no book.
And how she did it Marjorie never knew, but she made an example in Partial Payments so interesting, and so clear, that the girls not only understood it, but thought it fun.
Miss Hart said she was Mr. White, and the two children were Mr. Brown and Mr. Green, who each owed her the same sum of money. It was to be paid in partial payments, and the sharp and business-like Mr. White insisted on proper payments and exact interest from the other two gentlemen, who vied with each other to tell first how much was due Mr. White. There was some laughing at first, but the fun changed to earnest, and even the kittens were forgotten while the important debts were being paid.
"Good-bye, arithmetic!" cried Miss Hart, as the problem entirely finished, and thoroughly understood, she tossed the papers aside; "good-bye for to-day! Now, for something pleasanter."
"But that was pleasant, Miss Hart," said Marjorie; "I didn't think arithmetic couldeverbe pleasant, but it was. How did you make it so?"
"Because I had such pleasant little pupils, I think," said Miss Hart, smiling. "Now for a few calisthenics with open windows."
The windows were flung up, and under Miss Hart's leadership they went through a short gymnastic drill.
"Doesn't that make you feel good?" said Marjorie, all aglow with the exercise, as they closed the windows, and sat down again.
"That's no sort of a drill, really," said Miss Hart; "but it will do for to-day. When we get fairly started, we'll have gymnastics that will be a lot more fun than that. But now for our botany lesson."
"Botany!" cried Midge; "I've never studied that!"
"Nor I," said Delight, "and I haven't any book."
"Here's the book," said Miss Hart, taking a large white daisy from the bowl of flowers on the table.
"How many leaves has it?"
The girls guessed at the number of petals, but neither guessed right. Then they sat down in front of Miss Hart, and she told them all about the pretty blossom.
She broke it apart, telling them the names of petals, sepals, corolla and all the various tiny parts.
The two children looked and listened breathlessly. They could scarcely believe the yellow centre was itself made up of tiny flowers.
It was all so interesting and so wonderful, and, too, so new to them both.
"Isthatbotany?" said Marjorie, with wide-open eyes.
"Yes; that's my idea of teaching botany. Text-books are so dry and dull,I think."
"So do I," said Midge; "I looked in a botany book once, and it was awful poky. Tell us more, Miss Hart."
"Not to-day, dearie; it's one o'clock, and school is over for to-day."
"One o'clock!" both girls exclaimed at once; "itcan'tbe!"
But it was, and as they scampered away to make themselves tidy for luncheon, Marjorie said: "Oh! isn't she lovely! Do you always have a governess like that, Delight?"
"No, indeed! My last one was strict and stern, and just heard my lessons out of books. And if I missed a word she scolded fearfully."
"I never saw anybody like Miss Hart! why that kind of school is play."
"Yes, I think so too. And it's lovely to have you here. It's so much more interesting than to have my lessons alone."
"Oh, Miss Hart would make it interesting for anybody, alone or not. But I'll be here for two weeks, I suppose. I don't mind it so much if we have school like that every day."
"And picture puzzles every evening."
"Yes, and kittens all day long!" Marjorie picked up two or three of the furry little balls, that were always under foot, and squeezed them.
At luncheon they gave Mrs. Spencer such a glowing account of their "school" that Miss Hart was quite overcome by their praise.
"It's all because they're such attentive pupils," she said modestly.
"No, it isn't," said Mrs. Spencer. "I knew what a kind and tactful teacher you were before you came. A little bird told me."
"Now how did the bird know that?" said Miss Hart, smiling, and Midget wondered if Miss Hart thought Mrs. Spencer meant a real bird.
Afternoons the governess always had to herself. If she chose to be with the family, she might, but she was not called upon for any duties. So after Midget and Delight had finished their picture puzzles, and had exchanged, and done each other's, time again seemed to hang heavily on their hands.
It was really because they felt imprisoned, rather than any real restraint. Marjorie wanted to run out of doors and play, and Delight didn't know exactly what she did want.
They were allowed to walk on the side piazza, if they chose, but walking up and down a short porch was no fun, and so they fidgeted.
"Let's get up a good, big rousing game," said Midget, "a new one."
"All right," said Delight, "let's."
"Can we go all over the house?"
"Yes, all except the attic and kitchen."
The sick child and his mother had been put in two rooms in the third story. These were shut off from the main part of the house, and were further protected by sheets sprinkled with carbolic acid which hung over them.
The children had been warned to keep as far as possible from these quarters, but the front of the house was at their disposal.
"Let me see," said Midget, who was doing some hard thinking. "I guess we'll play 'Tourists.'"
"How do you play it?"
"I don't know yet. I'm just making it up. We're the tourists, you know; and the house, the whole house in an ocean steamer. First, we must get our wraps and rugs."
Diligent search made havoc in Mrs. Spencer's cupboards, but resulted in a fine array of luggage.
The girls dressed themselves up in Mrs. Spencer's long cats, and Mr. Spencer's caps, tied on with motor-veils, made what they agreed was a fine tourist costume.
In shawl straps they packed afghans, pillows, and such odds and ends as books and pictures, and they filled travellings bags with anything they could find.
Loaded down with their luggage, they went down in the front hall, whereMarjorie said the game must begin.
"Have you ever been on an ocean steamer, Delight?" she asked.
"No; have you?"
"Yes. I haven't sailed on one, you know, but I went on board to see Aunt Margaret sail. So I know how they are. This house isn't built just right; we'll have to pretend a lot. But never mind that."
"No, I don't mind. Now are we getting on board?"
"Yes, here's the gang plank. Now we go upstairs to the main saloon and decks. Be careful, the ship is pitching fearfully!"
Oblivious to the fact that steamers don't usually pitch fearfully while in port, the two travellers staggered up the staircase, tumbling violently from side to side.
"Oh, one of my children has fallen overboard!" cried Delight, as she purposely dropped Goldenrod over the banister.
"Man overboard!" cried Marjorie, promptly. "A thousand dollars reward! Who can save the precious child?" Swiftly changing from a tourist to a common sailor, Marjorie plunged into the waves, and swam after the fast-disappearing Goldenrod. She caught the kitten by its tail, as it was creeping under a sofa, and triumphantly brought it back to the weeping mother.
"Bless you, good man!" cried Delight, her face buried in her handkerchief. "I will reward you with a thousand golden ducats."
"I ask no reward, ma'am; 'twas but my humble duty."
"Say not so! You have rendered me a service untold by gold."
Delight's diction often became a little uncertain, but if it sounded well, that was no matter.
"My cabin is forty-two," said Marjorie, who was once more a tourist, on her way upstairs.
"Here is a steward," said Delight, "he will show us the way."
The steward was invisible, but either of the girls spoke in his voice, as occasion demanded.
"This way, madam," said Midget, as she led Delight to the door of her own room. "This is your stateroom, and I hope it will suit you."
"Is it an outside one?" asked Delight, who had travelled on night boats, though not across the ocean.
"Yes, ma'am. Outside and inside both. Where is your steamer trunk?"
"It will be sent up, I suppose."
"Yes, ma'am. Very good, ma'am. Now, you can be steward to me, Delight."
"Shure. This way, mum. It's Oirish, I am, but me heart is warrum. Shall I carry the baby for ye?"
"Yes," said Midget, giggling at Delight's Irish brogue, which was always funny; "but be careful. The child isn't well." The child was Blackberry, who was dressed in large white muffler of Mrs. Spencer's pinned 'round its neck.
"The saints presarve us, mum! Ye've got the wrong baby! This is a black one, mum!"
"That's all right," said Midget "She's only wearing a black veil, to,—to keep off the cold air."
"Yis, mum. Now, here's yer stateroom, mum, and 'tis the captain's own. He do be givin' it to you, 'cause ye'r such a foine lady."
"Yes, I am;" said Marjorie, complacently. "I'm Lady Daffodil of—ofBombay."
"Ye look it! And now if ye'll excuse me, mum, I'll go and get the other passengers to rights."
Delight slipped back to her stateroom, and returned with Goldenrod in her arms. She met Marjorie in the hall.
"I think I have met you before," she said, bowing politely.
"Yes," said Marjorie, in a haughty voice, "we met at the Earl's ball. I am Lady Daffodil."
"Ah, yes, I remember you now. I am the Countess of Heliotrope."
"My dear Countess! I'm so glad to see you again. Are you going across?"
"Why, yes, I think I will."
"I think you'll have to, as the ship has already started. Let us go out on deck."
As they were well bundled up, they opened the door and stepped out on the second story balcony. It was not unlike a deck, and they went and stood by the railing.
"The sea is very blue, isn't it?" said Lady Daffodil, looking down at the bare ground with patches of snow here and there.
"Yes, and see the white caps. Oh, we shall have a fine sail. Are you ever seasick?"
"No; never! Are you?"
"No; I have crossed eighty-seven times, so I'm used to it. Did you know there's a case of diphtheria on board?"
"No, is that so?"
"Yes. Somebody in the steerage, I believe. That's why we're stopped atQuarantine."
This struck both girls so funny that they had to stop and giggle at it.
"My precious Goldenrod!" cried the Countess of Heliotrope, "I fear she will catch it!"
"You'd better have her vaccinated at once. It's a sure cure."
"I will. But let us go inside, the sea-breeze is too strong out here."
The game seemed full of possibilities, and the tourists were still playing it when dinner time came.
So they pretended it was the ship's dining-saloon to which they went, and Mrs. Spencer and Miss Hart were strangers, passengers whom they had not yet met.
The game once explained to Miss Hart, she grasped it at once, and played her part to perfection.
"I should think," she said, finally, "that some such game as this would be a fine way to study geography!"
"Now what can she mean by that?" thought Marjorie.
As the days went by, Marjorie became more accustomed to her new surroundings, and felt quite at home in the Spencer household.
The baby's illness ran its course and though the child was very sick, the doctor felt hopeful that they could keep the other children free from infection. Mrs. Spencer felt keenly the trying situation, but Miss Hart was so bright and cheerful that she made everybody feel happy.
So, as far as the two little girls were concerned, it was just as ifMarjorie were merely making a visit to Delight.
The children were becoming very much attached to each other. Delight greatly admired Marjorie's enthusiastic, go-ahead ways, and Midget was impressed by Delight's quiet way of accomplishing things.
Both were clever, capable children, and could usually do whatever they set out to, but Marjorie went at it with a rush and a whirl, while Delight was more slow and sure.
But Delight was of a selfish disposition, and this was very foreign to Marjorie's wide generosity of spirit. However, she concluded it must be because Delight was an only child, and had no brothers or sisters to consider.
Marjorie's own brother and sister were very attentive to their exiled one. A dozen times a day King or Kitty would telephone the latest news from school or home, and very frequently James would cross the street with a note or a book or a funny picture for Midget, from some of the Maynards. So the days didn't drag; and as for the morning hours, they were the best of all.
"It's like a party every day," said Marjorie to her mother, over the telephone. "Miss Hart is so lovely, and not a bit like a school-teacher. We never have regular times for any lesson. She just picks out whatever lesson she wants to, and we have that. Last night we bundled up and went out on the upper balcony and studied astronomy. She showed us Orion, and lots of other constitutions, or whatever you call them. Of course we don't have school evenings, but that was sort of extra. Oh, Mother, she is just lovely!"
"I'm so glad, my Midget, that you're enjoying your lessons. Do you practice every day?"
"Yes, Mother; an hour every afternoon. Miss Hart helps me a little with that, too, and Delight and I are learning a duet."
"That's fine! And you don't get into mischief?"
"No,—at least not much. I shut one of the kittens up in a bureau drawer and forgot her; but Miss Hart found her before she got very dead, and she livened her up again. So, that's all right."
"Not quite all right; but I'm sure you won't do it again. I can't seem to scold you when you're away from me, sodotry to be a good girl, won't you, my Midget."
"Yes, Mother, I truly will."
And she did. Partly because of the restraint of visiting, and partly by her own endeavors, Marjorie was, on the whole, as well-behaved a child as any one could wish. And if she taught Delight more energetic and noisy games than she had ever heard before, they really were beneficial to the too quiet little girl.
One day they discovered what Miss Hart meant by using their steamer game for geography lessons. During school hours she proposed that they all play the steamer game.
Very willingly the girls arrayed themselves in wraps and caps, Miss Hart also wearing tourist garb, and with shawl straps and bundles, and with the kittens, also well wrapped up, they boarded the steamer.
Miss Hart, who pretended to be a stranger with whom they became acquainted on board, told them they were taking the Mediterranean trip to Naples.
The school-room was, of course, the principal saloon of the boat, and as the passengers sat round a table, Miss Hart, by means of a real steamer chart, showed them the course they were taking across the Atlantic.
Time of course was not real, and soon they had to pretend they had been at sea for a week or more.
Then Miss Hart said they were nearing the Azores and would stop there for a short time.
So they left the steamer, in imagination, and Miss Hart described to them the beauties and attractions of these islands. She had photographs and post cards, and pressed blossoms of the marvellous flowers that grow there. So graphic were her descriptions that the girls almost felt they had really been there.
"To-morrow," she said, as they returned to the ship, "we shall reach Gibraltar. There we will get off and stay several hours, and I'm sure you will enjoy it."
And enjoy it they certainly did. Next day it occurred, and when they left the ship to visit Gibraltar, they were taken to Miss Hart's own room, which she had previously arranged for them.
Here they found pictures of all the interesting points in or near Gibraltar. There were views of the great rock, and Miss Hart told them the history of the old town, afterward questioning them about it, to be sure they remembered. That was always part of her queer teaching, to question afterward, but it was easy to remember things so pleasantly taught.
She showed them pieces of beautiful Maltese lace, explaining how it was made, and why it was sold at Gibraltar, and she showed them pictures of the Moors in their strange garb, and told of their history. The luncheon bell sent them scurrying to the ship's dining-room, and they begged of Miss Hart that they might go on to Naples next day.
But she said that geography mustn't monopolize all the days, and next day, although she wasn't sure, probably there would be a session with Mr. Arithmetic.
"I don't care," said Midget, happily, "I know we'll have a lovely time, even if itisarithmetic."
Valentine's Day came before the quarantine was raised.
Marjorie was very sorry for this, for the doctor had said that after a few days more she could go home, and it seemed as if she might have gone for the fourteenth.
But he would not allow it, so there was nothing to do but make the best of it.
The night before Valentine's Day, however, she did feel a bit blue, as she thought of King and Kitty and even Rosy Posy addressing their valentines, and making a frolic of it as they always did.
And she thought of her father, who was always ready to help on such occasions, making verses, and printing them in his fine, neat handwriting. Of course, they would send some to her,—she knew that,—but she was losing all the jolly family fun, and it seemed a pity.
And then the telephone rang, and it was her father calling for her.
"Hello, Midget," came his cheery voice over the wire; "now I wonder if a little girl about you? size isn't feeling sorry for herself this evening."
"I'm afraid I am, Father, but I'm trying not to."
"Good for you, Sister! Now don't bother to do it, for I can tell you I'm feelingsosorry for you that it's unnecessary for anybody else to do that same. Now I'll tell you something to chirk you up. I suppose you have lessons to-morrow morning?"
"Yes; Miss Hart said we could have a holiday if we chose, but we didn't choose. So we're going to have special valentiney lessons,—I don't know what they'll be."
"All right; and in the afternoon, I shall send you over a valentine party. No people, you know, they're not allowed; but all the rest of a nice valentine party."
"Why, Father, how can we have a party without people?"
"Easily enough. I'll attend to that. Goodnight, now, Midget. Hop to bed, and dream hearts and darts and loves and doves and roses and posies and all such things."
"All right, I will. Good-night, Father dear. Is Mother there?"
"Yes,—hold the wire."
So Mrs. Maynard came and said a loving goodnight to her near yet faraway daughter, and Marjorie went to bed all cheered up, instead of lonely and despondent.
St. Valentine's Day was a fine, crisp winter day, with sunshine dancing on the snow, and blue sky beaming down on the bare branches of the trees.
The fun began at breakfast-time, when everybody found valentines at their plates,—for as Midge and Delight agreed, they had made so many, and they must use them up somehow. So Miss Hart and Mrs. Spencer received several in the course of the day; two were surreptitiously stuffed into Doctor Mendel's coat pockets, and the kittens each received some.
Lessons that morning were not really lessons at all. Miss Hart called it a Literature Class.
First she told the girls about the origin of Valentines, and how they happened to be named for St. Valentine, and why he was chosen as the patron saint of love. Then she read them some celebrated valentines written by great poets, and the girls had to read them after her, with great care as to their elocution.
She showed them some curious valentines, whose initials spelled names or words, and were called acrostics, and told of some quaint old-fashioned valentines that had been sent to her grandmother.
"And now," she said finally, "we've had enough of the sentimental side, I will read you a funny valentine story."
So, in her whimsical, dramatic fashion, she read the tragic tale of Mr.Todgers and Miss Tee.
"In the town of Slocum Pocum, eighteen-seventy A.D.,Lived Mr. Thomas Todgers and Miss Thomasina Tee;The lady blithely owned to forty-something in the shade,While Todgers, chuckling, called himself a rusty-eating blade,And on the village green they lived in two adjacent cots.Adorned with green Venetians and vermilion flower pots.
"No doubt you've heard it stated—'tis an aphorism trite—That people who live neighborly in daily sound and sightOf each other's personality, habitually growTo look alike, and think alike, and act alike, and soDid Mr. Thomas Todgers and Miss Thomasina Tee,In the town of Slocum Pocum, eighteen-seventy A.D.
"Now Todgers always breakfasted at twenty-five to eight,At seven-thirty-five Miss Tee poured out her chocolate;And Todgers at nine-thirty yawned 'Lights out! I'll go to bed.'At half-past nine Miss Tee 'retired'—a word she used instead.Their hours were identical at meals and church and chores,At weeding in the garden, or at solitaire indoors."
"'Twas the twelfth of February, so the chronicler avers;Mr. Todgers in his garden, and Miss Tee, of course, in hers;Both assiduously working, both no doubt upon their knees,Chanced to raise their eyes together; glances met—and, if you please,Ere one could say Jack Robinson! tut-tut! or fol-de-re!Thomasina loved Mr. Todgers; Mr. Todgers loved Miss Tee!
"Two heads with but a single thought went bobbing to the dust,And Todgers smiled sub rosa, and Miss Thomasina blushed;Then they seized their garden tackle and incontinently fledDown the box-edged pathways past the flower pots of red;Past the vivid green Venetians, past the window curtains white,Into their respective dwellings, and were seen no more that night.
"All that night poor love-sick Todgers tried his new-born hopes to quell,And Miss Tee made resolutions, but she did not make them well,For they went to smash at daybreak, and she softly murmured ''TisKismet! Fate! Predestination! If he'll have me I am his.'While Todgers sang 'There's Only One Girl in This World for Me,'Or its music hall equivalent in eighteen-seventy.
"It was February thirteenth (On, my Pegasus! Nor balkAt that fear-inspiring figure!) Thomasina took a walk.And Fate drew her—drew her—drew her by a thousand spidery linesTo a Slocum Pocum window filled chockful of valentines,All gaudy—save two, just alike in color, shape and size,Which pressed against the window pane and caught the lady's eyes.
"'How chaste! How charming! How complete!' she cried. 'It must be mine!I'll tell my love to Thomas in this lovely valentine,Whereon is suitably inscribed, in letters fine and free,'SEND BACK THIS TENDER TOKEN IF YOU CANNOT MARRY ME.'So with her cheeks all rosy, and her pulses all astir,She went in and brought the valentine and took it home with her.
"Ten minutes later Thomas paused outside the self-same store.You guess the rest. Fate grappled him and pushed him through the door,And made him buy the fellow to the very valentineWhich Thomasina had purchased there at twenty-five to nine.He chuckled (and Fate chuckled) the appropriate words to see—'SEND BACK THIS TENDER TOKEN IF YOU CANNOT MARRY ME.'