CHAPTER XVA FINE CELEBRATION

CHAPTER XVA FINE CELEBRATION

Aprilhad only used up about a week of her showers and sunshine, and the Jinks Club feared she might send a few of her mischievous raindrops on their parade, but when the birthday came at last, the weather was quite as smiling as the faces of the six paraders.

The floats were finished, and though some were the least bit wobbly, their owners fondly hoped they would last through the line of march. Miss Hart had agreed to go over to call on Miss Larkin that afternoon, in order to insure the presence of the Birthday Lady at the right time.

Nurse Nannie promised to have Rosy Posy in gala attire, and ready to take her part in the festivities.

The fancy costumes had been taken over to Flip’s house, and Mrs. Henderson was quite willing to assist the little masqueraders in their toilettes.

Indeed, she said the children looked so pretty, it was too bad they were not going to be on exhibition at some bazaar or entertainment. Just at three o’clock the parade started.

Kingdon went first. He was a tall boy for his years, and so Mr. Henderson’s fur motor-coat just escaped touching the ground. The April sunshine was a bit warmish, but King valiantly encased himself in his furs, cap, earflaps, and all, and rather awkwardly stumbling along on his snowshoes, dragged his float behind him.

The float itself was beautiful. With Delight’s help, King had arranged an Arctic Region of cotton snowdrifts, from the centre of which rose a most imposing North Pole. This was white, also, and glistening with the tinsel frost that is used for Christmas trees. To its top was nailed the Stars and Stripes, and the flag fluttered proudly as the float wobbled along. A crowning glory was seen in good-sized lumps of real ice that nestled among the white drifts. And over these realistic glaciers clambered white “Teddy Bears,” of which Rosy Posy’s “Boffin” was perhaps the finest specimen. Also, an Eskimo doll, borrowed from the Maynard nursery, added local color to the scene.

The float would have done credit to a grown-up, and King pulled it proudly along, though hampered by his rather unmanageable snowshoes and cumbersome coat.

“Old King Cole, discovered the Pole,” chanted Delight, as King started down the Hendersons’ driveway, and then they all took up the refrain and repeated it with enthusiasm.

The second float was Delight’s. Fairies, of course, as they were her specialty. She was dressed as a fairy herself, and on her lovely golden hair rested a gilt paper crown, with tall points. A long gilt wand, with a star on the end, was her sceptre, and her frock of white tarlatan was made with many frills, and spangled with gilt stars. Two gauzy wings fluttered from her shoulders, and her white slippers showed a tiny gilt star on each.

“Oh, Delight,” cried Marjorie. “You do look too perfectly lovely for anything! Doesn’t she, Mrs. Henderson?”

“Yes, indeed,” returned that lady, smiling; “but you all look so lovely, it’s hard to choose among you.”

Delight pushed her float, instead of drawing it, for it was the wicker baby-carriage that she had borrowed; but so transformed, that not a speck of wicker could be seen. It was twined and draped with green and white tarlatan; from its wicker hood, or top, depended filmy curtains, which were tied back to afford a view of the fairy scene inside. Here, in a sort of little bower, were dolls dressed as fairies, dancing round in a magic ring.

But, dainty as they were, no doll was so sweet as Delight, herself, with her golden hair flying, and her pretty face smiling at the fun of it all.

Fairy bells hung round the edges of the float, and jingled as it rolled along.

Delight stepped slowly, lest she run into the North Pole, whose brave explorer floundered on, guiding his snowshoes as best he might.

Then, after the Fairy Float, came Dorothy, the Flower Girl.

Her mother had fixed up a charming costume from one of Dorothy’s own pretty little frocks, by sewing tiny artificial roses all over it. A wreath of flowers on her head made her look almost like a May Queen.

Her float, though not so ingenious as some, was quite as pretty as any.

The old-fashioned flower-stand, of green wire, was filled with growing spring flowers in pots, and the pots were concealed by smilax and asparagus fern. The body and wheels of the float were covered entirely with pink and white paper roses, and the whole effect was of a mass of blossoms.

Then came Kitty with her Mermaids. This float was the most ambitious of all, and though a success, it was liable to drop to pieces at any minute. Kitty had tried to represent the billowy ocean, and her waves were of dark-green cambric, with wires underneath to make the billows wave. On this uncertain sea were perched several mermaids. These were highly successful as works of art, for the spangled green tails, stuffed with sawdust, looked just like those shown in pictures, and the flaxen hair of the wax dolls’ heads was truly mermaidish.

Kitty, herself, proudly represented Undine. Some green tarlatan was draped over her white frock, and paper seaweed hung all over her. A wreath of artificial water-lilies was extremely becoming, and her long hair hung in a curly mass.

Altogether, Kitty’s float was wonderful, and she was optimistic enough to feel sure it would reach home in safety.

“Drive up near the North Pole, Kit,” sang out Flip; “then that jiggly green ocean of yours will freeze, and there’ll be no danger of its spilling over.”

“’Twon’t spill,” said Kitty, serenely, and Undine trundled her ocean along happily, while the mermaids swayed about, and would have fallen off, but that their tails were securely fastened to the wires.

After Kitty, came Marjorie. Her float was the Birthday Cake, and a fine show it made.

Like Dorothy’s, the float itself was covered closely with pink and white roses, for it was so easy to make paper roses, that they could have them by hundreds. And there is nothing prettier for fanciful decoration.

High up on a rose-covered soap-box sat the cake; white, and gilt-lettered, and wreathed about with fresh smilax. On it were the seventy-five candles, not lighted yet, and inside it nestled all the presents, tied in tissue paper and ribbons.

Midget, herself, wore a fancy costume she had once worn at a masquerade party.

It was a “Folly” dress, and was in blue and white stripes, with little bells on the pointed edges. There was a Folly cap with bells on, and the gay little garb was most becoming to merry Midget.

Last of all came Flip. His wheelbarrow was stunning in its red, white and blue draperies, and the Plaster Group of noble signers stood firmly in place as he trundled the vehicle along. Flip wore a Continental suit, and was supposed to represent George Washington, but as his white cotton-wool wig proved rather warm, and he was not so patient as King, he carried the wig and cocked hat under his arm, until he should reach the party.

And so, his round, freckled face, and somewhat obstreperous hair, surmounting the brass-buttoned blue coat, rather spoiled the illusion of the Father of our Country.

“Hey, you!” called out King, from the other end of the parade, “put on your head-rigging. You spoil the show!”

“Can’t help it,” Flip called back. “It’s too roasting hot! I’ll put it on when we get there.”

“Hot! pooh!” shouted King, in scorn. “What d’you think of me! I’m melting in this fur envelope, but I keep it on just the same!”

“All right, keep it on,” returned Flip, amicably, and the incident was closed.

Slowly, and thoroughly enjoying themselves, the parade moved down Broad Avenue.

People flew to the windows to watch them, or stepped out on their verandahs to see them go by. They received great applause, and many enthusiastic spectators begged them to stop a moment, or came out and walked by their side to examine the curious floats. At last, they turned into the Maynards’ place.

Flip hastily clapped on his wig and hat, and the parade marched up the drive.

“Ought to have had music!” exclaimed King. “Never thought of it till this minute!”

“Sing,” suggested Delight.

“All right; start her up.”

But asked so suddenly, Delight couldn’t think of anything appropriate. In a frantic attempt, however, to supply the desired music, she began “John Brown’s Body.”

Everybody joined in, lustily, and as the front door opened, and Miss Hart gently pushed the bewildered Miss Larkin forward, a rousing “Glory, glory, Hallelujah!” greeted her.

“What—what is it all?” cried the amazed lady, as right in front of her was a strange-looking figure much like a clumsy bear, trying to make a dancing-school bow, or rather, a dancing-bear bow, without tumbling over his snowshoes.

“Go on, King!” shouted Marjorie. “March round.”

So King went on, and the parade slowly went round the big oval of the Maynard front lawn two or three times.

Miss Larkin was fairly enraptured.

“For me! for my birthday!” she exclaimed, as Miss Hart explained it to her. “Why, I never saw anything so wonderful! Go round again, children, dear! Oh, you are fine!”

She clasped her hands in ecstasy, and Rosy Posy fairly screamed in delight.

At last, they lined up the floats in front of the verandah, and then the six, joining hands, repeated the birthday poem, which King had made up for the occasion. Kitty thought it wasn’t very poetical, but she had been too busy with her mermaids to make a poem herself, so they had all learned King’s. They didn’t sing it, but they recited it in such a sing-song voice, that it was just as good.

“Larky, Larky!Harky, Harky!To our Birthday ode.While we singAs we bringPresents, quite a load!”

“Larky, Larky!Harky, Harky!To our Birthday ode.While we singAs we bringPresents, quite a load!”

“Larky, Larky!Harky, Harky!To our Birthday ode.While we singAs we bringPresents, quite a load!”

“Larky, Larky!Harky, Harky!To our Birthday ode.While we singAs we bringPresents, quite a load!”

“Larky, Larky!

Harky, Harky!

To our Birthday ode.

While we sing

As we bring

Presents, quite a load!”

It wasn’t very poetical, perhaps, but the enthusiasm of its recital so pleased Miss Larkin, that she wanted to have it repeated several times, and her request was obligingly granted.

“Now,” said Marjorie, “shall we have the presentation of gifts first, or the feast?”

“Gifts,” said practical Kitty; “then the supper, and then it will be time for the party to be over. If it isn’t, we can play games.”

“You see,” said Midget, who had sidled up to Miss Larkin, “we thought we disturbed your dinner party, when Mrs. Mortimer was here, so this is sort of to make up, you know.”

“You dear child!” exclaimed Miss Larkin. “You didn’t need to ‘make up,’ but this is the most wonderful birthday party I ever saw, and I can’t tell you how I appreciate it.”

“It’s a celebration,” explained Marjorie. “There are floats, you know, and altogether it’s a pageant, like they have in New York. Isn’t it grand! And the float that I dragged is your birthday cake. We’re going to take it in the house to open it.”

“And we don’t think you’re seventy-five years old,” broke in Kitty. “We know you’re not. But the candles stand for our ages, because we don’t want to be impolite to you.”

“Yes, that’s all right,” said Miss Hart, heading off any further allusions to the age of the lady who was receiving all this honor. “Now, let’s get the cake into the house. Where shall we put it?”

“Well,” said Midget, considering, “if we have the presents first, let’s open the cake before we go into the dining-room. So let’s take it into the living-room.”

“Right, oh!” exclaimed King, and he and Flip carried the big cake indoors and they all followed.

Marjorie and Kitty, as chief hostesses, each took Miss Larkin’s arm, and escorted her to a seat of honor.

“Now, Larky, Larky—harky, harky!” said King, with a flourish. “We hereby present you with this beautiful birthday cake, from your loving friends of the Jinks Club.”

King had discarded his fur coat and snowshoes, but he had grabbed a few garlands of paper flowers from Dorothy’s float, so that he would still look in festive array.

“I am overcome,” said Miss Larkin, who seemed really bewildered at this further compliment offered her.

“Of course you are!” rejoined King. “We expected you to be. We’d have been much disappointed if you hadn’t been overcome. Now, that’s all right, so please recover your equilibrium, and we’ll proceed to see what happens ‘when the pie was opened.’ ”

“Very well,” smiled Miss Larkin; “go ahead. I can stand it now.”

Then King and Flip lifted off the cover of the big box, and left exposed the great pile of dainty parcels. Everybody had a gift, and, of course, Miss Larkin had a great many.

Though not of great value, they were all dainty and pretty little souvenirs, and Miss Larkin had real tears in her eyes, as she received one after another.

“It’s like Christmas!” exclaimed Flip, as he smiled with pleasure at the box of fudge given him by Kitty.

“Don’t open it now,” warned King; “take it home with you; ’cause we’re going to the dining-room in a minute.”

“All right,” said Flip, “but it looks greedy not to pass it around.”

“No, it doesn’t,” said Kitty; “’cause it’s your present. It only just happens to be a pass arounder. If it was a paper doll or a hair ribbon, you couldn’t pass it around. So—you see.”

“I see,” agreed Flip, laying the box aside, but he did feel a little embarrassed about it.

However, just then Sarah threw open the dining-room doors, and they all marched out. King offered his arm to Miss Larkin, and Flip followed, escorting Miss Hart, who, though not taking an active part, was of great assistance in her pleasant, unostentatious way. The girls followed, and Rosy Posy toddled along with them.

Ellen and Sarah had really outdone themselves in arranging an attractive feast. No one had helped them, but the experienced servants knew well just what to do.

In the centre of the table was a large, round birthday cake, which could really be eaten. It was covered with white frosting, and in pink frosting were the initials of Miss Larkin’s name, and the date of the day, with no reference to the year.

Dainty sandwiches were served first, with lemonade or milk, as the children chose.

Then there were little fancy cakes, and ice cream, and lovely jelly, and bon-bons, and nuts, and fruit, and every sort of delicacy that Ellen considered appropriate.

And then, as a final ceremony, the birthday cake was cut. Miss Larkin cut it herself, as was appropriate, and as she plunged the knife into the rich plum cake, she declared she was inspired to make a speech.

“Speech! Speech!” cried King, and they all clapped their hands and cheered.

“Dear children,” began Miss Larkin, “I think you are the dearest and best children I ever knew. I think it was sweet of you to do all this for me on my birthday, and I shall never forget it.”

That was all of the speech, and if it was simple and short, it was also most sincere and heartfelt.

The children were quiet for a moment—the earnest voice had made them a little serious—and then Flip said, “Three cheers for Miss Larkin!” and they gave them with a will.

As the noise subsided, Miss Larkin smiled and said:

“Three cheers for the Jinks Club!”

The club saw nothing incongruous in cheering themselves, so this cheer was as loud as the first.

Then, the hours had slipped away so fast, it was really time to go home, so the Jinks Club adjourned, after hearty good wishes and good-byes.

Thomas and James agreed to drag the floats back to Mr. Henderson’s barn, to stay there until the Jinksies could attend to them.

So, after the guests had gone, the jolly crowd in the Maynard home spent an enthusiastic hour in discussing every bit of the celebration all over again, and congratulating themselves on its splendid success.

CHAPTER XVIWINDOW BOXES

“Itjust seems to me,” said Marjorie, at breakfast one morning, “that Imustgo out and dig.”

“Dig for what?” asked King; “buried treasure?”

“No, not dig for anything, except just to dig. It’s so springish outdoors, and so—well, such diggy weather.”

“Oh! You mean to plant things,” said King. “Well, let’s all make gardens. It’s Saturday, and we can dig ’em this morning, and plant ’em this afternoon, and there you are!”

“Yes,” said Kitty, scornfully, “there you are! Who’s going to water them all summer, and weed them? You know very well, Mops, that when we didn’t keep our gardens nice last spring, Father said we couldn’t have any this year.”

“I know it; that’s what’s bothering me. I know we can’t have gardens, but I do want to dig.”

“Oh, well,” said King, “go and dig in the sand-heap. That won’t do any harm, and you can dig as long as you like.”

“No,” said Midget, disconsolately; “I want to plant a garden. I wish Father hadn’t said we couldn’t. If he was here, I’m sure I could coax him to let me do it. I’d keep it weeded and watered this year—I know I would.”

“Yes; if Thomas did it all for you,” laughed King. “No, Mopsy Midget, you’re too careless to take care of a garden. Take your big brother’s advice, and don’t begin on schemes that you can’t carry out.”

“But I want to dig,” said Marjorie, again.

“Mopsy Maynard,” said King, “I’ve got that thoroughly in my head. I’m positively convinced that you want to dig, but I’ve done all I can in the matter, so don’t repeat that information formybenefit.”

“I want to dig,” said Marjorie, in just the same tone; saying it, now, of course, merely to tease her brother.

“I dig wiv oo, Middy; we dig togevver,” volunteered Rosy Posy, always willing to do anything for her adored Midget.

“All right, Rosy Posy. You and I’ll go dig down deep in the ground, and p’raps we’ll find something nice.”

“Ess,” said the baby, with an affirmative nod of her curly head; “ess, we find nice woims.”

This made them all laugh, except Miss Larkin, who gave a little shudder at Rosy Posy’s suggestion.

“Marjorie,” she said, after a moment, “I’ve an idea for your digging, if you really want to dig.”

“Well, I do feel like it, Miss Larkin, but I was mostly fooling. For Father did tell us we couldn’t have gardens this year, and I was glad of it when he said it, but now I’ve just taken a notion to dig.”

“It’s the spring,” said Kitty, sagely. “Spring always makes you feel diggy. But you’ll get over it, Mops.”

Kitty’s philosophical remarks, though not always comforting, were usually founded on fact.

“But, children, listen,” said Miss Larkin, who sometimes had difficulty to get an opportunity to speak. “This is my idea. You know your mother and father will be home week after next.”

“Hooray! Hooray!” shouted King. “’Scuse me, Miss Larkin, but I sureamglad!”

“Me too—me too—me too,” chanted Marjorie, until Kitty cried out:

“I’m glad, myself, but Mops, do stop singing a dirge about it.”

“What is a dirge, Kit?” asked King. “You do use such awfully grown-up words. You oughtn’t to do it at nine years old. What’ll you be when you’re as old as I am?”

“I hope I’ll be less noisy than you two are,” said Kitty, but she smiled good-naturedly at her more boisterous brother and sister. “Anyway, I think we all might be quiet long enough to let Miss Larkin say what she wants to.”

“I think so, too,” said Midget. “Go ahead, Larky, dear. Tell us about this digging scheme of yours.”

“Well,” began Miss Larkin, almost timidly, for when the children grew noisy, it always made her nervous, “it seemed to me it would be nice to prepare a little surprise for your parents’ homecoming.”

“Oh!” groaned King; “no more pageants for me! No more floats or celebrations or North Poles at present! No more marching half a mile wrapped in buffalo robes! Nay, nay, Pauline.”

“Oh, King, do be still,” begged Kitty. “Go on, Miss Larkin.”

“And I thought, children dear, that it would be nice to get some window boxes and piazza boxes, and plant bright flowers in them. Then, you see, Marjorie, you can dig and plant, and yet not disobey your father’s command not to make a garden. For, of course, he meant a garden on the ground, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did,” said Midget. “I think window boxes would be fine! Tell us more about it, Larky, dear.”

Pleased at the interest they all showed, Miss Larkin went on:

“I’ve arranged a great many myself, so I know just how. And it’s very pretty work, and though, of course, it’s some trouble, it’s not nearly so much as a garden.”

“It’s beautiful!” cried Marjorie; “I’m crazy to get at it. Can we begin now? Aren’t you through your breakfast, Miss Larkin? You don’t want any more coffee, do you? Come on, let’s get to work!”

“Oh, Marjorie, you’ll drive me distracted!” cried the poor lady, clapping her hands to her head. “I ’most wish I hadn’t proposed it.”

“Please excuse her, Miss Larkin,” said King. “She’s a bad-mannered young thing, but I’ll tame her.”

Jumping up, King caught off Marjorie’s hair-ribbon and ran round the table with it. Of course, Midget ran after him, and a general scramble followed.

Watching her chance to get out of the room without tumbling over the combatants, Miss Larkin escaped, and, running up to her own room, locked herself in.

“Now, you’ve made her mad, King,” said Marjorie, reproachfully. She wasn’t a bit annoyed, herself, at King’s capers, but it was quite evident that Miss Larkin was.

“What geese you two are,” remarked Kitty. “I don’t see why you want to carry on so.”

“Look out, Kit, or you’ll lose your own hair-ribbon,” said King, grinning, as he made a threatening move toward her big blue bow.

“Oh, take it if you want it,” said Kitty, pulling it off, herself, and offering it politely to her brother.

Of course, this made them all laugh, and as Marjorie tied Kitty’s ribbon again in place, and Kitty tied hers, they debated what they should do.

“Let’s write a note and say we’re sorry, and stick it under her door,” said Midget.

This seemed a good plan, and they all agreed.

“You write it, King,” said Kitty. “’Cause you write the best of all of us.”

So King wrote, and they all suggested subject-matter for the effusion.

“Dear Miss Larkin:” the note began.

“Shall I say we’re sorry?” asked King.

“Oh, that sounds so silly,” objected Marjorie; “I mean so—so sensible, you know. Let’s say something to make her laugh.”

“Say this,” suggested Kitty: “Three miserable sinners crouched outside your door, await your pardon.”

“That’s fine,” said King, approvingly; “go on, Kit.”

“We do want to dig,” put in Marjorie, “and we want to make window boxes, and we want to make them quick.”

“That goes,” said King, writing rapidly; “next?”

“We’re still crouching,” went on Kitty, “we really will be, you know—and we hope you’ll open the door right away, and say bless you, my children. And then we’ll fly on the wings of the wind to do your bidding.”

“A little highfalutin,” commented King, “but I guess it’ll do.”

They all signed the document, and then raced upstairs. Poking it under Miss Larkin’s door, they all crouched and waited.

Soon her voice came to them, through the keyhole.

“Are you all crouching there?” she said.

“Yes!” was the reply in concert.

“Well, I’ll forgive you, if you’ll promise not to tumble around so, and pull off hair-ribbons. It isn’t pretty manners, at all.”

“That’s so, Miss Larkin,” said honest King; “and I’m awful sorry. Come out—shed the light of your blue eyes upon us once more, and all will be forgiven.”

Laughing in spite of herself, Miss Larkin opened the door, and found the three children crouching on the floor, their faces buried in their hands. As the door opened, they gave a long, low, wailing groan, previously agreed upon, and then they jumped up, smiling.

“Dear Miss Larkin,” said King, with overdone politeness, “may we invite you to go window-boxing with us? It’s a delightful day, and we want⁠——”

“We want to dig,” interrupted Marjorie.

“Yes, we’ll set about it at once,” said Miss Larkin, briskly.

It had suddenly occurred to her that the best way to quiet these turbulent young people was to get them occupied.

“My intention is,” she said, “to present you children with the window boxes, and the plants. Then, after we set them out, of course, you will have to take care of them—or Thomas will. But I’m sure you’ll enjoy doing it yourself, and, as I said, they will make a lovely greeting for your parents on their return.”

“Where do we get the boxes?” King burst out, rather explosively, for he was trying to repress his over-enthusiasm.

“I think we can get them all ready made, at Mr. Pettingill’s shop. I saw some there the other day. That’s what made me think of it. Get your hats, and we’ll go and see.”

At last, here was a start. They flew for their hats, the girls taking the precaution to hang on to their hair-ribbons, for King was in mischievous mood this morning.

In less than ten minutes they started, King and Miss Larkin walking decorously ahead, and the two girls walking demurely behind.

At the shop, they found boxes already painted green, and built in the most approved fashion as to lining of zinc and pipe drainage.

They selected three, two to be placed on either side of the front verandah, and the other across Mrs. Maynard’s bedroom window, which was in the middle of the house, in the second story.

These were bought and ordered sent home, and the shopkeeper promised to send them at once.

So the quartette went next to the florist’s.

Here they grew quieter, for they became greatly interested in listening to Mr. Gilbert’s advice about plants for boxes.

After careful consideration of the various flowers, they made their choice.

Each was expected to select plants for one box, and then to plant and care for that especial box all summer.

Marjorie was given the box for her mother’s window; and she chose scarlet geraniums, with ferns for a background, and a border of sweet alyssum in front.

“You may have some trouble with them ’ere ferns, Miss,” said the good-natured florist. “But if you do, an’ if ’tain’t your fault, you come back here, and I’ll give you new ones fer ’em. That maidenhair fern’s pretty hard to raise.”

“Oh, I’ll be very careful,” said Marjorie, confidently. “I think it will grow all right.”

“Everybody allus thinks that,” said Mr. Gilbert, with a twinkle in his eye. “But if by any chance it don’t, you come an’ tell me ter wonst.”

Kitty and King had the other two boxes, and, of course, had to select plants that harmonized with each other. Kitty chose French dwarf petunias, whose ruffled flowers excited her admiration as soon as she saw them. The colors were various shades of rose pink, and also white ones.

Then a trailing vine, known as Vinca Major, was selected to hang down and cover the front of the box, “like a frizzly bang,” Kitty said.

King’s flowers were verbenas, of the same colors as Kitty’s blossoms, and he, too, had the green vine for a fringe. They bought, too, some mignonette to form a background, and then Miss Larkin said they had enough plants.

The florist’s boy started at once with their purchases, and by the time they had walked home, all the things were ready for them to begin.

Thomas was called upon to help, and he worked under Miss Larkin’s directions; but all such portions of the work as the children could do, were done by their little hands.

In the bottom of the boxes they had to put a layer of small stones. This was fun, for the stones had to be picked up from the driveway, and great care was used in getting good shapes and sizes.

Then some charcoal was sprinkled in, and after that the dirt was put in.

Thomas provided them with the right sort of soil, and at last Marjorie was able to dig to her heart’s content.

“Isn’t it fun!” she exclaimed, as, with hat and coat tossed off on the grass, she dug with a trowel, and also with her ten grimy little fingers. James and Thomas had set the boxes in their places, and fastened them firmly, and when it was time to put in the flowers themselves, Midget fairly jumped for joy.

To plant her box, she had to get out of another window onto the roof, but as Thomas took care she didn’t roll off in her enthusiasm, she was safe while at work.

First she put in the ferns at the back; Miss Larkin advising from her standpoint inside Mrs. Maynard’s room, and Thomas and Marjorie doing the actual planting. Then the lovely scarlet geraniums, and in front of them the tiny plants of sweet alyssum. This wasn’t yet in bloom, but they hoped it would be by the day of Mrs. Maynard’s arrival.

Also, Miss Larkin and Thomas helped the other two young gardeners below stairs.

King’s and Kitty’s boxes were longer than Marjorie’s, as they were verandah boxes.

King grew a little impatient at the necessary slowness of the work, and willingly accepted Thomas’s help; but Kitty was ambitious to do it all herself, and worked away untiringly.

It took nearly the whole day, but at last, when four o’clock found the boxes all complete, and a lovely mass of bright blossoms, the Maynards, though too tired for vigorous romping, were exuberant with joy.

“It was the loveliest idea, Larky!” said Marjorie, patting the lady’s face, with hands that showed traces of good brown earth. “I’msoglad you thought of it.”

“So’m I,” said Kitty and King, together.

“Now, go and get tidied,” said Miss Larkin, “and then I’ll give you further instructions.”

This didn’t sound very interesting, but when they came back to the living-room an hour later, clean, and rested, they found Miss Larkin waiting for them, with most attractive-looking little books in her hands.

They proved to be little notebooks, in which she had written just what they must do through the coming months, to keep their plants in good order. Every direction was clearly given; every contingency was provided for; and Kitty said:

“Well, if those posies don’t grow right, it will be our fault, not theirs.”

“It won’t be my fault,” said Midget, with determination. “I’m going to take care of my flowers awful carefully. ’Cause I want to show Father that I’ve improved since last year.”

“That’s the right spirit,” said Miss Larkin, approvingly; “try to do better each year, and thus grow up to be good and worthy women.”

“I can’t do that,” said King, with a sigh, “but probably I’ll grow up to be President.”

CHAPTER XVIIDELIGHTFUL ANTICIPATIONS

“Won’tit be fun!” exclaimed Marjorie, as, with King and Kitty and Delight, she came into the house; “let’s sit down and talk it all over again.”

“What’s it all about?” asked Miss Larkin, smiling at the happy faces of the four.

“Well, it’s going to be Arbor Day next week, and the ladies of the church are going to have a festival,” explained Midget; “and they want you to help—Miss Merington is coming to see you about it—and they’ve asked us children to help.”

“Why, what can you do at a grown-up festival?”

“Oh, we can do lots,” said Kitty; “we sell things, you know, and—and just help round.”

“Yes,” put in King, “and we give ’em things to sell, too. Make ’em or buy ’em or something.”

“Or get them given to us,” suggested Delight. “The shopkeepers are awfully generous about that.”

“What kind of a festival is it?” asked Miss Larkin.

“Oh, that’s the fun of it,” said Marjorie. “It’s an Arbor Day affair, you know, and they call it the Arbor Show, and it’s all trees.”

“All trees?”

“Yes; the big hall is all to be filled with trees—not real trees—but sort of made-up ones, and then we sell things off of them.”

“Oh, I begin to see. The trees are instead of the usual booths.”

“Yes, that’s it. Each lady has a tree, and then she gets her friends, or children, or anybody to help her. Miss Merington asked Delight and me to be with her. She has the Orange Tree.”

“Oh; and do you sell oranges?”

“Yes, real oranges, and other kinds, too.”

“And do they want me to have a tree? What kind shall I choose? And will you children be with me?”

Miss Larkin was greatly interested in the project, for not often did she get an opportunity to take part in such an entertainment.

“You’ll have to see what Miss Merington says,” said Marjorie. “She’s at the head of it all, and she said she’d come to see you this afternoon.”

“Oh, did she? Then I’ll run and change my gown; I’d rather look more dressy when she comes.”

Miss Larkin bustled away, and King said:

“I’ll like to have a tree with Larky. She’ll buy a lot of things for us, and she’ll be so ’thusiastic about it. Hey, Kit?”

“Yes,” agreed Kitty, “and I’d rather be with her, than a stranger lady, anyway.”

Soon Miss Merington came to call, and Miss Larkin came down to meet her, resplendent in a silk costume and her best jewelry.

Miss Merington was a charming young woman, and though only slightly acquainted with Miss Larkin, she laid the case before her so prettily, that Miss Larkin gladly consented to assist at the bazaar.

“You see,” explained Miss Merington, “as it’s an Arbor Day, we have trees instead of tables or booths. For instance, there will be a nut tree, and under that the attendants will sell all sorts of good things made with nuts; nut cake, nut candy, salted nuts, glacé nuts, and everything they can think of. And, too, they’ll have those funny little dolls made of peanuts, and those grotesque heads made of cocoanuts. Oh, there are lots of lovely things for the Nut Tree.”

“Doughnuts,” suggested Miss Larkin.

“Why, yes, of course,” said Miss Merington, laughing. “They’re fine nuts to sell from a nut tree.”

“What other trees will there be?” asked Marjorie, who sat looking admiringly at the visitor. She greatly admired Miss Merington, and, also, that young lady had a warm affection for Marjorie. She had asked the two girls to assist her at her own tree, knowing they would be glad to be together, and that they were capable enough to be really helpful to her in her work.

“Well, there’s the Dogwood Tree,” said Miss Merington. “They will sell any thing that has to do with dogs. They’ll have books and pictures and postcards all about dogs. And muzzles and blankets and dog-baskets and dog-biscuits, and things like that for real dogs.”

“And china ornaments,” said Kitty; “they’re very often dogs, you know.”

“Then there’s the Fruit Tree,” went on Miss Merington. “Not any one kind of fruit, you know, but all kinds. And under that will be sold fresh fruits, canned and preserved fruits, fruit pies, fruit cake, candied fruits, dried fruits—oh, you’ll see for yourself what variety of fun it will make. And, of course, some of the allusions are jokes. The Fir Tree will sell furs.”

“Oho!” laughed King; “sealskin coats and buffalo robes?”

“Well, perhaps not such expensive articles; but fur caps and mittens; and Teddy Bears, and toy-animals. Then there’s the Evergreen Tree; of course, everything sold from that must be green. That’s easy, you see, and yet it will be a beautiful tree.”

“Which tree shall I be under?” asked Miss Larkin, eager to learn her appointed place.

“You may have the Evergreen, if you like. As I say, there’s wide scope for choice of articles to sell.”

“I’d like that very much,” said Miss Larkin. “King and Kitty will be my helpers, and I’m sure we can get lots of green things ready for the bazaar.”

“I’m sure you can,” agreed Miss Merington. “And your tree will be easy to get, too. Just any kind of an evergreen tree will do.”

“A Christmas tree,” said King; “I’ll ask Thomas to cut one in the woods for us.”

“Yes, do. Some of the trees are much harder to manage. Many of them will have to be covered entirely with paper foliage.”

“How about our tree—the Orange Tree?” asked Delight.

“Well, you see, our tree takes the place of what is usually known at fairs as the grab-bag or fish pond. We will make lots of oranges in this way. Take some little article that can be sold for five or ten cents, wrap it in cotton until it forms a ball the size of an orange, and then cover it with orange-colored crêpe paper. Tie it at the top with a narrow green ribbon, and hang it on the tree. Of course, the customer, buying an orange, takes his chance on what he will find inside it.”

“Oh, that will be lots of fun,” said Marjorie. “I can make little pincushions and sachet bags.”

“Yes,” said Delight, “and I can make little stamp-cases and tiny picture frames, and lots of things.”

“And we can buy things,” went on Midget. “Spools of cotton, and celluloid thimbles, and little bits of toys and dolls. Oh, can’t we begin this afternoon?”

Miss Merington smiled at the enthusiasm of her young assistants.

“You may, if you choose,” she said: “I must go now, but, of course, I’ll see you again soon about our plans. Just go on and make all the oranges you can. I’ve brought you one, for a sample.”

Miss Merington gave Marjorie a paper and cotton orange, which was so neatly made that it looked almost like a real one.

“Make them carefully,” she advised, “for the whole tree will be spoiled if the fruit is ragged or badly shaped.”

“What kind of a tree will you have, Miss Merington?” asked Marjorie.

“Fortunately, I’ll have the real thing,” was the answer. “A friend of mine, who has a large orange tree in his conservatory, is willing to lend it to me. It is in a very large tub, and it will be difficult to move it, but I think we can manage it. Then I shall have sprays of white orange blossoms made of paper, on it, and also our yellow fruit. Of course, we hope to sell many more oranges than would fill the tree, so we’ll have a crate full, also, and sell them out of that, as well as from the tree.”

“Do we sell anything else except the oranges we make?” asked Delight.

“Yes; I’d like to have a small stand, with a few other things, say, orange marmalade, and candied orange-peel, and such things.”

“And shall we dress in orange-color?” asked Midget.

“Why, I hadn’t thought of that, but it would be very pretty.”

“I’ll help you,” said Miss Larkin. “I’ll have a dress made of orange-colored cheesecloth for Marjorie, and I’m sure Delight’s mother will let her have one, too.”

“Oh, do,” said Miss Merington. “I have a gown of orange chiffon and black velvet, so we will all be appropriately dressed.”

“And we’ll wear green,” went on Miss Larkin. “I’ll have green clothes made for King and Kitty, and I have a green silk already, myself.”

“Ho!” laughed King, “I’d look fine in a green rig, wouldn’t I!”

“Yes, you would,” declared Kitty. “You’d look like a hunter or Robin Hood or somebody like that. It would be lovely.”

“So it would,” said Miss Merington. “You are very kind, Miss Larkin, to go to so much trouble.”

“Oh, I like it. I’ll get in a dressmaker for a few days, and she’ll soon fix up the children’s costumes. Cheesecloth for the girls, and paper muslin for King. They’ll look fine, and not cost much, either.”

“I do think, Larky,” said Midge, after Miss Merington had gone, “that our trees will be the prettiest in the room.”

“I don’t know, child. She didn’t tell us about all of them. But we’ll fix ours up as well as we can. Delight, ask your mother to let you have your orange frock made over here, with Marjorie’s. It would be easier all round.”

“Oh, she will, Miss Larky. She’ll be glad to do it. She just hates to have a dressmaker in the house. And Miss Hart will help me make the oranges, I know.”

“What can we make?” asked Kitty. “So many things are green, that it’s hard to think of anything.”

“Why, Kit,” said her brother, “there’s hardly anything we can’t sell at our table. If you want to make fancy things, you can make ’em all green. If you want things to eat, there’s apples and pickles, and little cakes with green icing, and green candies, and green peppers!”

“And books with green covers,” supplemented Marjorie.

“That’s good!” cried Kitty. “I love to paste scrap-books, and I’ve a lot of gay pictures saved up. I’ll make scrap-books for children, with green covers.”

“Be sure the children have green covers,” said King. “Look at them well, before you let them buy the books.”

“You make good jokes,” said Kitty, looking patronizingly at her brother; “but what are you going to make for our Evergreen Tree?”

“That’s so,” said King. “There aren’t many things a boy can make. I can cut out some jigsaw puzzles, but if they’re all green, there won’t be any picture.”

“Yes,” said Midget, “use those pictures that are nearly all forest and green trees. They’re the hardest to do, too.”

“All right; I’ll do a couple of those, but what else can I do?”

“Dolls’ furniture,” suggested Kitty.

“Yes, that’s fine, but I guess you don’t know how much trouble it is to make the chairs stick together. Well, I’ll do a set or two, and stain the wood green, and you girls can make green satin cushions for ’em.”

“All right,” said Kitty; “I’ll help you with the cushions, and then you can help me with the scrap-books. And, King, we can paint things green—baskets, you know.”

“Yes, and tin cans, and old tea-chests, and then tie ribbons on ’em! No, thank you, I won’t do any of that kind of stuff.”

“Well, but pretty little baskets would be all right,” said Marjorie, laughing; “and flower pots, too.”

“Oh, yes,” said Delight; “little flower pots with just a hyacinth or a fern in them. Then paint the pot green, and there you are!”

“That isn’t so worse,” said King; “and I might make a few window boxes.”

“Oh, they would be lovely!” exclaimed Miss Larkin. “They’d look so pretty under our tree. We could get a couple like those you have, and fill them, and I’m sure they’d sell well.”

“I shall make some penwipers,” said Kitty. “You just cut a leaf like a maple-leaf out of green leather or kid, and then cut two or three leaves just like it of green felt, and fasten them together at the stem.”

“And make some little lamp-shades,” said Delight; “I mean, candle-shades. They’re lovely of green paper—Mother has some.”

“I can’t make them neatly enough,” objected Kitty. “You girls make me some of those, and I’ll make some orange candies for you. I’ll cut you out some orange baskets, if you want me to—made out of the orange-skins, you know.”

“Oh, yes,” said Marjorie; “Kit does make those just lovely. And we’ll fill them with orange cream candies. Let’s all make things for each other.”

“I shall make some green silk work-bags,” said Miss Larkin, “and green sofa-pillows. And I’ll buy some things, like green writing paper and envelopes. I can’t abide colored stationery myself, but some people like it.”

“And it will look pretty on your table,” said Marjorie. “Miss Merington says we have a table to put our things on to sell, and hang them on our trees, too. Kit, you can trim dolls’ hats—you’re fine at that.”

“Yes, indeed; and they’ll be pretty of light straw or white muslin and lace, and green bows, or a little wreath of tiny green leaves.”

“Or green feathers,” added Delight. “I have some I’ll give you, off my last summer’s hat.”

“Well, let’s get to work, then,” said Kitty, who was prompt of nature. “There are enough things in the house to begin on.”

So they all scampered up to the playroom, and after cleaning off the big table, they brought out what contributions they could make to the general stock in trade.

There was plenty of crêpe paper left over from previous festivities, and Kitty found enough pretty scraps of silk and velvet to begin on her fancy-work at once. So, though they didn’t finish many articles that afternoon, they planned a lot of things, and made lists of the materials they needed to buy next day.

After that the days flew by quickly enough.

Afternoons were devoted to making the pretty trifles, the store of which grew rapidly, with so many eager little fingers at work.

The dressmaker came, and under the supervision of Miss Larkin and Miss Hart, concocted dainty little costumes that were most pretty and becoming, though made of humble cheesecloth. King’s garb was most effective, for his suit of dark-green shiny muslin was set off by gilt buttons and a real lace collar.

As Arbor Day came nearer, the children made delicious home-made candies, all orange or green, and Ellen concocted wonderful cakes with pale-green icing, and with orange icing.

Then, besides the things they provided themselves, many goods were donated.

Rockwell was a generous community, and the householders and shopkeepers always responded liberally to requests for donations toward church or charity.

Mr. Gordon, who was a friend of Mr. Maynard’s, invited the children to select wares from his shop to the extent of ten dollars, and such fun as they had!

Marjorie and Delight took a basketful of little trinkets for their “oranges,” and King and Kitty were quite bewildered at the number of attractive green things they found.

Miss Larkin spent her money and her time both freely, and was voted the hardest worker in the whole bazaar.

She bought the window boxes, and had them prettily filled, and she bought, also, a number of ferns and small palms in green pots.

“I’m so glad I happened to be here just at this time,” she said, “for I love an occasion of this sort, and I almost never get a chance to be in one.”

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