"Nennybody mustn't look out the windows into the yard today, not ever, ever at all," insisted Berta at the breakfast table next morning.
"Not ever, ever at all," echoed Beth.
"No, indeed! Just let me hear that anyone has tried to find out what our surprise is." And the Doctor looked with a terrible frown at Wilhelmina and Mary, who declared that their feelings were very much hurt, because they were not let into the secret. "I shall depend on you, Dick, to let me know whether anyone disobeys my orders."
"All right, Uncle Frank, I'll 'member every single one I see peeking out the windows."
A short time later, Mary and Wilhelmina dropped the blanket they were folding and stared at each other.
"Forever more! What in the world is that? It gives me the creeps." Wilhelmina went to the window and, hidden by the curtains, peered down into the yard. From just below rose such a squeaking and a scraping as would make one's blood run cold.
"Ugh!" Mary clapped her hands to her ears. "It makes the shivers run up and down my spine!" She followed Wilhelmina to the window, and for some minutes the two watched the little ones hard at work with their hoes on patches of earth which the rain had washed out on the walk. Then they dodged back; for Berta, pushing back her big hat, stopped work to look carefully at each window on that side of the house. The two girls smiled at her gleeful, "Nennybody isn't looking, chilluns. They can't ever guessthiss'prise, not ever, ever at all." And she turned to brush up the loose earth on her little spade which she then emptied into the waiting wheelbarrow.
All in the house chuckled behind the window curtains or blinds which hid them from Berta's sharp eyes. Squeak! Scrape! Screech! Dick and Beth used their little brooms and spades and added to the pile of earth in the wheelbarrow, while Jack scratched away at his special patch. Those indoors went back to their work, glad that the little ones were happy at last; but it was not long before frantic cries drew them again to the windows to see Jack making off down the walk with the wheelbarrow, out of which a steady stream of earth was pouring. After he had been stopped and the earth brushed up, Berta decided that it was too warm to work any longer in the sun.
"Let's rake leaves. It's cool under the trees."
"That's jes' 'zactly what we'll do, Dick." Beth tossed off her hat and caught up her rake.
And how they raked! Not only leaves, but grass, roots and all, came up.
"By the time they finish, the yard will look as though a cyclone had struck it," laughed Wilhelmina.
"That doesn't matter one bit just so they are happy and out of mischief. Wasn't Uncle wonderful to think of such a thing for them to do?"
"I'm only afraid it's too good to last very long, Mary. They will soon get tired of such hard work."
Wilhelmina was right. After a few minutes under the trees, Dick and Berta threw down their rakes and went to sweep cobwebs from the railing of the porch; but Beth's fear of spiders kept her at the leaves, and she coaxed Jack to stay with her. At the end of a half hour, Wilhelmina again went to the window. "Didn't I tell you, Mary? Not one of them in sight. They are up to some mischief, mark my words. They are too quiet for any good to come of it."
"But what mischief can they possibly get into in the yard, Wilhelmina? Tom always closes the barn doors when he leaves it, and there is no way for them to hurt themselves. They have just found something to do around at the back of the house."
In one sense, Mary was right. The little ones had found something to do. But if she had known what that something was, she would not have gone about her work with such a light heart. She had many, many things to learn about the lively little sisters who had so suddenly come into her life again; and Wilhelmina, who knew very well what four-year-olds can be up to, chuckled at the thought of the surprises they would give Mary. Then she sniffed the air anxiously. "Mary, I smell smoke! I told you something is wrong!"
She ran from the room and down the back stairs, with Mary at her heels. But Liza in the kitchen had caught sight of the blaze down in the corner between the barn and the fence and had hurried out on the back porch. They heard her shouting, "Git away fum dah! Git away fum dat fiah, yo' heah me!" And before they reached the kitchen, she had run down the steps, and snatching up a carriage robe that lay airing on the grass, she rushed toward the children, who were clapping their hands and jumping about as near as possible to the burning rubbish. They did not hear Liza's shouts, nor did they notice what she had seen—a tiny flame leap out and catch the edge of the ruffle on Berta's little starched apron. Swiftly it crept along until a frightened cry from Beth warned Berta of her danger.
"Don't run, chile! Don't run! I'se gwine to put it out! Lay down on de ground, quick!"
But Berta jumped about and tore at her apron in frantic fear. Another moment and Liza was upon her, wrapping the robe around her and rolling her on the ground.
"Call yo' pa an' Tom, Miss May-ree, 'foah de fence kotches fiah! Missy Berta's all right! Tom's down in de cellah! Now, den." She removed the robe and made sure that nothing but Berta's apron had suffered from the fire, and that it was fright only which made the child cling to her, sobbing and moaning. She decided that a scolding all around would make everyone feel better and began, "What yo' s'pects ought to be did wif sech chilluns as yo' is, I lak to know! Which one ob yo' alls fetched de matches fo' to light dat fiah? 'Kase I knows Tom nebah done it. He's got moah sense dan to light a fiah wif yo' chilluns playin' round heah."
"I——I tooked——s——some——m——matches from the k——k——kitchen when you w——went in the pantry."
"Huh! An' see what yo' got fo' doin' sech a t'ing, Missy Berta. An' which one ob yo' alls put all dat rubbish in dat co'nah, 'spectin' to sot de bahn an' fence on fiah, I lak to know?"
"It——it was all there already, Liza, and——and we thinked we——we's going to make a nice s'prise for Tom, so we did."
"Huh! I reckon yo' bettah let Tom tek care ob de rubbish aftah dis, Missy Bef. Dat lazy niggah doan' need nobuddy to mek s'prises fo' him, nohow. An' which one ob yo' alls struck de matches an' sot fiah to dat rubbish, I lak to know?"
"I did, Liza."
"I w——wanted——t——to, b——but Dick——s——said girls don't know how to m——make fires s——so very well, s——so Beth and I let him d——do it."
"Huh! Wal, yo's comp'ny, Massa Dick, an' I ain't gwine to tell yo' what I thinks ob a li'l boy what's got sech a lubly ma as yo's got, teachin' li'l gels to mek fiahs an' sech lak."
"But——but we asked him to, Liza."
"Don't mek no diff'unce, Missy Bef. No-buddy ain't got no right to do nuffin wrong jes' 'kase somebuddy axes him to. Now, den, yo' alls gwine right 'long into de kitchen, an' you' ain't nebah gwine to watch yo' pa an' Tom put out dat fiah, so yo' ain't! Go long wif yo'!" Liza drove them before her and turned aside to answer Mr. Selwyn's anxious questions.
"No, sah, Massa Rob, she ain't hurt a mite, only skeered; an' I reckon I fixed dat all right by gibbin' dem all de bestest scoldin' dey ebah got. She's done forgot all 'bout de fiah fo' wondahing what I'se gwine to do wif dem when I gits dem into de kitchen, he! he! he!"
She kept her word in regard to the fire, for she wished to drive the memory of the fright from Berta's mind; but she set a big plate of cookies on the kitchen table and brought each of them a glass of milk. Then she hurried into the dining-room to meet the two mothers who, in spite of hearing from Mary and Wilhelmina that the children were safe, had hurried down stairs to see for themselves; and all agreed that the less said the better. But Mrs. Selwyn went to the telephone to ask her sister to let the little ones spend the next day at Maryvale.
When the twins heard of the plan at dinner that evening, they clapped their hands in delight.
"We must be ready to leave here as soon as we have had breakfast," said the Doctor. "I shall put you and Aunt Mandy on the train, and two or three of the older girls with the wagonette from the convent will meet you. Tom had better go, too, I think. He and Jerry, the gardener, can unpack the furniture as it is unloaded and set up the beds so that we shall have a place to sleep to-morrow night; for I am quite sure that we shall spend it at Bird-a-Lea."
"Great 'citement going on, isn't they, Uncle?" Berta hurried through the hall, lugging a suitcase almost as large as herself. It did not matter that there was nothing in it; that Aunt Mandy was taking a valise into which she had put two little dresses and two little suits for fear that, by evening, those the children were wearing would not be fit to be seen. But a valise was not a suitcase; and Berta, who had made up her mind to travel in proper style, insisted, "Ev'ybody going on a train always takes a shootcase."
"Leave that at the head of the stairs, and I shall carry it down for you. If you should fall with it, therewouldbe some excitement."
"Very well, Uncle." And the child pattered down to join the group in the lower hall.
Then Beth thought of Fluff; and Mary hurried upstairs for the little covered basket which she had promised the twins, while Wilhelmina ran off to find the kitten. At last it was time to say good-bye; but when Mrs. Selwyn stooped to kiss Beth, the child drew back, her lips quivering.
"But——but isn't you and Daddy coming, too, Mother?"
"Not this morning, dear; but we shall be out there as early as possible this afternoon."
"Then——then I guess I'se going to wait till this afternoon-time, too." And seating herself on the lowest step of the stairs, she took off her hat.
"But, Beth——then——then I isn't going, too, till this afternoon-time, 'cause we's twins, you know, and we must do ev'ything 'zactly the same." Berta took her place beside her sister.
"Surely, Beth, you will not spoil the day for your little guests; for, of course, Dick and Jack will not care to go to Maryvale without you and Berta. And what will Aunt Mary and the Sisters and all your little friends at the convent think? They are looking forward to your visit. If I were to go down town to do some shopping, I would be away for the greater part of the day, you know, and you would think nothing of that. Come, dear, put on your hat and help Berta with the basket. Just think how many people you will make happy to-day."
Those in the hall drew a deep breath when the carriage door closed on the travelers. Half way to the ferry, Berta remembered the suitcase, which Mr. Selwyn had quietly slipped out of sight during the little delay at the front door. But the Doctor insisted that they would miss the train if they went back for it, so the little girl had to content herself with the basket containing the kitten. On the train, Aunt Mandy had her hands full; for the twins thought it was "puffeckly drefful" to keep Fluff shut up in such a way and took her out of the basket, placing her on the seat between them. But the kitten had her own ideas about traveling; and jumping off the seat, she raced up and down the aisle with the four after her. Under the seats, around the feet of the passengers, she scampered, until first one, then another of the children came back to Aunt Mandy, bumped and bruised. The poor old soul gave a great sigh of relief when, with the help of three of the large girls from the convent, she had them safely seated in the wagonette.
As they neared Bird-a-Lea, the children strained their eyes for the first glimpse of the new home; and when Patrick, the driver, turned in at the east gate and drove slowly up the broad, curving driveway, they clapped their hands in great glee. On past the house and down the drive to the west gate they went, then up the road to Maryvale. Mother Madeline was at the front door to welcome them. She had to hear of the new red wheelbarrow and the garden sets, of the surprises and accidents, of everything, in fact, that Dick and the twins could remember; and baby Jack put the finishing touches to the story by lisping, "Big fire! Burn Berta! Litha run fatht!" Of course, Mother Madeline pretended not to understand him, and the other three did not try to explain what he meant.
Such romps and frolics as they had with the little boarders; and when noontime came, a picnic luncheon was served under the trees.
To the great joy of the other three, Mother Madeline thought Jack was the only one who needed an afternoon nap; and as he was already half asleep, he went willingly into the house with Aunt Mandy. Then Sister Austin asked help to unpack school supplies; and trip after trip the children made, carrying boxes of chalk, pencils, and erasers, and packages of paper from the packing-box at the side door to the big press at the end of the hall. At first, Berta, Beth, and Dick walked very carefully on the polished floor; but it was not long before they followed the example of the other children, who made the return trips with a run and a long slide. When the packing-case was empty. Sister Austin opened a box of pencils, which she had laid aside on the window sill, and let the children take their choice. Dick spied a red, white, and blue striped one with a little gilt eagle instead of an eraser; and to keep from seizing it, he had to slip out of his place and go to the end of the line and say over and over to himself, "Ladies first. Father always says, 'Ladies first!'" His heart sank when one of the little girls picked it up; but she saw a bright green one with an emerald at the end of it, which she liked better. The little fellow's sigh of relief was not lost on Sister Austin, who had noticed him changing his place in the line. He felt safe now, for all but the twins had chosen, and he was sure that Berta would take a red pencil, and Beth a blue one. At last the striped one was safe in his little brown fist; and Sister Austin gave him a pat on the head and let him choose a pencil for Jack.
"Now, I shall put these that are left into the press and lock the doors until Monday. What a busy time we shall have down here that day!"
"Sister, please tell me the name of this beauty red stone in my pencil?"
"That is a make believe ruby, Berta, and Beth's is a sapphire."
"Oh, oh! Please, Sister, is they any other blue pencils in the box, or a white one?"
"Why, yes, Beth, here is a pale blue one with a turquoise in it."
"I think that'severso much more beauty than this one; doesn't you, Sister?"
"I prefer the sapphire myself, Beth, but there is no reason why you may not have this other one."
"Beth doesn't like nennything with fire in it so very well, Sister, and I doesn't, too; and that's why she likes the turkey pencil best of all."
Sister Austin turned to the shelves to hide a smile; for she had heard of the event of the day before.
Presently, Mother Madeline came for the children. "Your father has just telephoned to say that they are leaving on the four-thirty train; and as Patrick is going to the station with the wagonette to meet them, I thought you might like to go, too. Aunt Mandy is waiting to wash your faces and hands."
A half hour later, the four with the old nurse were ready at the front door.
"Be sure to bring them all back with you, Aunt Mandy. We shall have an early supper for them. Bird-a-Lea is still very much upset, and Liza is too tired to try to get a meal this evening."
"Jes' as yo' says, Miss May-ree." For to the old servant, Mother Madeline was still her dear Miss Mary. "Jes' as yo' says. Lord lub yo'! Dey all am sho'ly tiahed out aftah dese days ob teahin' up an' teahin' down an' packin' an' eberyt'ing, an' I'se gwine to delivah yo' message persackly de way yo's done tol' me, I sahtinly is."
It would be hard to tell how many blessings the old woman would have heaped on Mother Madeline's head if she had known that there were two guest rooms at the convent ready for Mrs. Selwyn and Mrs. Marvin, with two little cribs in each. Mary could share Wilhelmina's room, and Mother Madeline knew that her brother and Mr. Selwyn would be comfortable at Bird-a-Lea in the two bedrooms which she and some of the Sisters had put in fairly good order for them. Nor had Aunt Mandy and Liza been forgotten.
"So you see, little folks, someone else can 'make s'prises,' too," she laughed when, helping to serve at the supper table, she had told her plans for the night.
"I have always said that we are a very surprising family, Aunt Mary. It seems to me that nothing should really surprise us any more after all the wonderful things that have happened this summer."
"Perhaps you are right, Mary; but I feel quite sure that the 's'prises,' though not so important, will be greater in number from now on."
The little ones had found one day at Maryvale so pleasant that they did not need to be coaxed to spend a second and a third there; and with them safely out of the way, the new home was quickly put in order.
"Mary, see who is standing at the top of the front steps."
It was late Saturday afternoon. The two little girls had made the rounds of the house, and finding nothing more that they could do, were on their way over to the convent to see whether any of their classmates had arrived. The child on the steps was certainly not one of them; for she was no larger than Berta, and Mary was sure that she had never seen her before. She was surprised when Wilhelmina raced across the grass, calling, "Dorothy! Dorothy!"
The child turned, and her face brightened as she hurried down the steps, clapping her hands and crying, "It's Willie! Oh, it's Willie!"
"It must be someone from Georgia. No one around here ever calls her anything but Wilhelmina, because Aunt Etta asked the Sisters not to let the girls shorten her name."
Mary ran to join the two at the foot of the steps. She heard Dorothy say, "Daddy's in the house with a lady with a toothache."
"The lady with a toothache!" Wilhelmina's merry laugh rang out.
"Ye——es, Willie, 'cause she has a white thing tied around her face. And she has on such a funny dress and a veil hanging 'way down and a bib. Why does she wear such funny things?"
"You poor honey! Have you never seen Sisters before? That's a good one! They would keep the dentist busy. Mary, this is Dorothy Bond that I told you about—no, I didn't, either. We had so much to tell each other that I forgot about the afternoon we found Dorothy. We had gone down to the shore, and all of a sudden we saw a little row boat drifting out to sea, and Dorothy was in it. She and her father were at the resort up the beach, and her nurse left her alone, and she got into the boat and went to sleep. We thought she would fall overboard before Phil and Harry could swim out and tow her in. Her mother is in heaven, and her father was so worried about her that Father wrote to Mother Madeline to ask whether she would take Dorothy here, even though she is too young. And what do you think, Dorothy? Dick and Jack are here!"
"Your Dick and Jack?"
"My Dick and Jack—the very ones you played with two weeks ago. And Mary has the two dearest little sisters in the world. You will have so many little girls to play with now that you won't remember you were ever lonely. Here are the boys and the twins. They know that something is going on, and they are afraid of missing it."
Dick caught sight of Dorothy, and with a shout, he ran to meet her; and ten minutes later, when Mother Madeline and Mr. Bond came out to look for her, his little daughter's gleeful cries, as she ran from tree to tree playingPussy Wants a Corner, lifted a great weight from the father's anxious heart; for he knew that she had found friends in her new home. Wilhelmina was the first to catch sight of him and led the race toward the steps.
"And Mother is here, too, Mr. Bond," she said after Mary and the twins had been introduced. "We are all visiting at Bird-a-Lea, Mary's new home next door. We have been helping them to move out here from the city. You will come over to see Mother and Uncle Rob and Aunt 'Lizabeth before you go, won't you?"
"I shall not have time to do so this evening, Wilhelmina; but I shall be out here again to-morrow and shall be delighted to see your mother and to meet Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn. You have no idea how happy it makes me to know that my little girl is to have so many good friends, especially some of her own age."
"Yes, Mr. Bond, we's all 'zactly four years old 'cept Jack and Dick—he's hap-past four."
"So he is; and Dorothy is about a quarter past. Her birthday is in June. But a few months more or less make no difference, Berta. I am sure you will have the very best times together."
"Yes, indeed, Mr. Bond, these little people will see a great deal of one another; for though Berta and Beth are too young to go to school, I am quite sure that they will spend more than half their time over here. Dorothy will enjoy going into the Kindergarten for a while every morning to learn the little songs with the other children; and, if you are willing, I shall allow her to visit at Bird-a-Lea very often."
"I shall be delighted to have her do so, Mother Madeline."
"O Dor'fy! Dor'fy! Aunt Mary is going to let you come over to our house——"
"And you can play with our dollies, and we's going to have tea parties, and——and ev'ything!"
The twins threw their arms around their new friend and danced about at the risk of falling head first down the steps.
"Aunt Mary, couldn't you let Dorothy stay with us until Monday? She knows us now, and she might be lonely here when we go home."
Mr. Bond answered before Mother Madeline could speak. "No, no, Mary, I could not think of imposing on your mother in that way. She must be pretty well worn out after moving from the city."
"But she won't mind jes' one more chilluns, Mr. Bond—not jes'one," pleaded Berta.
Mother Madeline laughed. "I think they are right, Mr. Bond. You had better let them have their way."
"I am so grateful to you, Mother, and to these little folks that it would be useless for me even to try to thank you for this happy ending of all my worry."
"Daddy, my dollie's nose is broken and her hand, and her hair comes off, and——and a tea party's going to be."
"Then it is time you had a new doll, isn't it? My little girl has very few toys. Taking her with me on my trips, I have found that picture books and a doll or two are the things most easily packed in a trunk. But now I should like to get her whatever the other little ones have; and since Wilhelmina and Mary have spent some time at boarding school, perhaps they will make a list of the toys they think suitable."
"Oh, we shall be glad to do that, Mr. Bond. I am not great for girls' things, you know. I like boys' toys and games better. But Mary——well, I guess there isn't much in the way of things girls like that she hasn't had. You see, Uncle Frank just dotes on Mary. He thinks the twins are pretty fine, but his Mary! Well, I tell her that she has two fathers."
"You make me very anxious to meet Uncle Frank," laughed Mr. Bond, "and I shall feel perfectly safe in leaving the choice of toys to you, Mary. By the way, I think the Sisters will find in Dorothy's trunk everything mentioned on the list in the catalog; but those, I take it, are all very necessary articles. If you girls can think of anything else that will make my little one happier or more comfortable, put it on the list with the toys. I must hurry away now if I am to catch the next train to the city."
Returning to Bird-a-Lea, Mary at once found paper and pencil and sat down beside Wilhelmina on the steps to make out the list. The little ones crowded around to see that nothing was forgotten.
"Doll, doll bed, doll carriage—" Mary read aloud.
"A little trunk."
"Yes, Beth, that's a good idea."
"And a shootcase, so when Dor'fy brings her chile over to stay all night with our chilluns."
"And——and——oh, I know! A little broom, so she can help us sweep the nice house we's going to make on the side porch."
"And a cute little carpet sweeper 'zactly the same as Liza's big one, and a mop to rub all around the floor——"
"But you won't need a sweeper for the floor of the porch, Berta."
"Oh, we's going to have a nice rug in our house, Mary."
"But a broom—you will have two extra brooms when Dick and Jack go home, Beth."
"Why, Willy-mean, Uncle buyed those for them. They's theirs for keeps."
"But the boys have brooms and garden sets at home, and we thought it would be so nice if you and Berta would keep them here for them so they will have them when they come to visit you again. The boys will be glad to lend them to Dorothy, I know."
"Course we will," agreed Dick. "But I should think Dor'thy would want a ball——and——"
"Oh,Iknow! A billy cart same as Dick has."
"But a goat cart is for boys, Berta. Besides only one can ride in it at a time. Father is going to get us something ever so much nicer, but I can't tell what it is just now. They have one at Sunnymead, too."
"Oh, oh! what is it, Mary? Please tell us.Please!"
"But that wouldn't be fair, twinnies. Father is going to have it a surprise for you."
"We doesn't like big folkses to make s'prises so very well," murmured Berta.
"And perhaps the 'big folkses' don't like some of those you make, either," laughed Wilhelmina. "There is Aunt Mandy to get you ready for dinner."
"Now, we can think, Wilhelmina."
"But some of the things they said are all right. We have enough toys down there, for with the picture books Dorothy has, her shelf in the toy press in the little ones' playroom will be pretty well filled. The doll bed and carriage ought to be the folding kind, so they will fit on the shelf. How about the other things her father spoke of?"
"It would be nice if she had a little dressing table and a small rocker instead of the stand and chair at her place in the dormitory. Many of the little ones bring their own."
"But a dressing table would be too high for her, wouldn't it?"
"I know just the thing. A large-sized, doll's chiffonnier with a mirror on it. She can keep her handkerchiefs and ribbons and comb and brush and such things in the little drawers. We shall ask Mr. Bond to get a white one and a little, white, wicker rocker." Mary looked over the list. "I think that ought to be enough to do her until Christmas. The children simply can't have all the toys they would like to bring to school with them. There isn't room for so many."
"Anyone would think that there ought to be all kinds of room in a big building like that; but with two hundred boarders besides all the Sisters, there's not much to spare, that's certain. And not one of our class back yet. Trust them to stay out until the last toll of the bell. The ones who live in the city won't show up until five to nine Monday morning. I wish Mother wasn't going home Tuesday. Mother Madeline would let me stay here as long as she does. But she's a dear to promise that I may come over every Wednesday to stay all night and Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday. I must try to behave better than I did last year, or she might change her mind."
"Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh,dear! They's sech a drefful many things to do, and I doesn't see how we's ever going to do all of them, not ever, ever at all!"
"Not ever, ever at all!"
Mary and Wilhelmina stood still and looked at each other, then burst into a merry laugh. The great bell in the belfry high up over the roof of the convent had just stopped ringing to spread the news that a new school year was about to begin; and the two girls, with two book carriers apiece, were on their way across the lawn to the little gate in the low wall—the little gate, the hinges of which would have no chance now to rust.
"Forever more! What have you children to do that can't just as well be left undone, I should like to know? Even Mary and I don't expect to do any real work to-day. We just have to show up in the study hall and in our classroom and see our music teacher and find out where the lessons are for to-morrow. But we don't have to study or recite this morning; and the chances are, we won't have to go back at all this afternoon. The boarders will be unpacking their trunks, but I know Sister will let me off until Mother has gone. But just what you are groaning about, Berta, is more than I can see."
"Why, Willy-mean, they's ever and ever so many things we must do, and Jack and Dick won't be here to-morrow to help us, you know, 'cause Aunt Etta said she's going to take them home early, early in the morning-time 'mejetly after breakfus."
"Then I think it is too bad that you should ask them to work on the very last day of their visit. I am sure they did quite enough of that in the city. You ought to play all day and have a jolly time."
"Oh, we don't mind working, Mary; but there's one thing it seems to me we oughtn't to do, and that's sweep all the gravel off the paths and driveway. I told Berta everybody in the country has walks like that; but she thinks the kind you had in the city are nicer, and that if we sweep the little white stones off, we'll find that kind under them."
"No, no, you wouldn't, Berta; and Father won't be one bit pleased if you spoil the walks that way. And Jerry—well, I don't know what Jerry would think of little girls who would do such a thing after all the trouble he has taken to roll them so nice and smooth."
"But—but, Mary, when we fall ourselfs down, we scratch our poor little hands and knees on those old stones, so we do."
"Then play on the grass where you can't hurt yourselves."
"And who would expect two, great, big girls like you to be tumbling around in such style anyway. Why, even Jack hardly ever falls now, do you, honey?"
"I too big, Willie."
"Of course you are."
"W——ell,—but, Willy-mean, we haseverso many other things we jes'mustdo afore Dick and Jack go, 'cause Beth and I can't possiglee do ev'y single one all by our own selfs. For instinct, we has to think names for the two little kitties Patrick gave us, and for the bunnies and the teapots and the squirrels and all the birdies in the big cage and——"
"All 'cept Polly. She has her own name. She's all the time saying, 'Pretty Polly,' and 'Polly wants a cracker,' and 'Polly's a fine bird,' and all things same as that," explained Beth.
"You see, Willy-mean, that's the why I said we has so much to do to-day. Even if Dick and Jack help us, I don't see how we can possiglee think names for ev'ything."
"Then just give the names that you can think of easily, and Wilhelmina and I shall help you when we come home. We must run now, or we shall be late for school, and that wouldn't do at all on the very first morning."
"We's going all the way to the steps with you, Mary."
"But Mother said only to the gate, Beth. Oh, I know what I wish you would do. Ask Mother to let you come over about eleven o'clock. I want the girls to see what fine little brothers Wilhelmina has."
"And I want them to see what dear little sisters Mary has," laughed Wilhelmina.
"And we shall take you to the Kindergarten, and perhaps Sister Benigna will let Dorothy come home with us for the afternoon."
"Oh, goody, goody, good——ee! We'll have another tea party, so we will!"
"Ask Jerry for some fruit and flowers to bring to Aunt Mary—that is, if you have time to help him gather them."
"Oh, yes, Mary, we has plenty of time,plenty!" And the four raced back toward the house, leaving the two girls shaking with laughter.
The little ones hurried around to the back porch, where the kittens were asleep in a basket. They knelt around it, trying to decide on proper names for these new pets.
"Isn't they jes' too cute for nennything! The yellow one is Beth's, and the black one is mine. Why, Beth, now we has the three little kittens jes' like the ones that lost their mittens. Doesn't you 'member, honey?"
"They look like little balls of fur, so they does. I jes' can't think of a nice 'nuff name for mine. Can't you 'member us of some nice kitty names, Dick? Willy-mean helped us name Fluff."
"Seems to me I ought to know some. The big grey cat that lives in our barn to catch the mice is named Tabby."
"Oh, oh! I isn't going to let my little kitty live inourbarn. The mice might bite her, so they might. And I isn't going into our barn again my own self, too, not ever, ever at all."
"'Count of the mice? Why, Beth, they'll run a mile when they hear you coming."
But Beth closed her lips very firmly and shook her soft, little, yellow curls.
"Here's Fluff, and I'se 'fraid she doesn't like our new little kitties so very well. Willy-mean says she's——I doesn't quite 'member that name Willy-mean said; does you, Beth?"
"N——no, Berta; but it means 'zactly the same as some little folkses is when they get a nice new little sister or brother. They's so selfish that they doesn't want the new little baby not ever, ever at all, 'cause they's 'fraid ev'ybody might love it the best."
"'M, 'm 'm! How puffeckly drefful! I wish we had a sweet little baby brother to love and rock in a cradle and sing nice songs to 'stead of jes' dollies what can't hear you. In course, we can be-tend they hear us, but that's not jes' 'zactly the same, you know, Dick."
"We need another boy in our family, too, Phil says, so we can have a baseball nine. Willie's almost as good as a boy, though. She's a better catch than Jack, anyway, and she's a pretty good batter; but she can't pitch a little bit. Harry says her in curves are punk."
Beth sighed deeply. "We doesn't know what any of those names mean, Dick. Won't you please 'splain them to us? Seems to me, Berta, they's a drefful many things we has to learn. Dick knows most ev'ything they is, I'se quite sure."
"Course I don't, Beth. I don't know all my A, B, C's yet. If you had some brothers, you'd have to play baseball with them, and then you'd know as much as I do. We'll have a game this afternoon when Mary and Willie are here. I saw a bat in the barn."
"Oh, oh! Not one of those horrid things we saw flying around last evening-time!"
Dick chuckled. "I should say not. How'd you 'spect to hit a ball with that thing, Beth? I s'pose you haven't a baseball. Maybe Tom has one."
"But——but isn't we going to name the amanals, Dick?"
"That's so, Berta, I forgot. Let me see. Fluff——Fluff——rough——tough——snuff——"
"I doesn't think those are very nice names——"
"Wait a minute, Beth. Puff——muff——buff——I say, Berta, how would Muff do for yours? You said it looks like a ball of fur, and muffs are made of fur, aren't they? The one Uncle Frank and Mary gave Willie last Christmas was."
"That's jes' a lovely name, Dick!"
"And how would you like Puff for yours, Beth? or Buff? That means a kind of a yellow color like the suit I wore yesterday, and your kitten is yellow."
"Let's call it both names, Beth—something like Willy-mean. We'll say Puffy-buff, and then our kitties will be Fluff and Muff and Puffy-buff; and I'se quite sure they isn't nenny nicer kitty names in the whole world. Now, we'll go name the teapots," and Berta led the way around to the west side of the house in search of the peacocks.
"I know a name for that great big one with his tail all spread out. Let's call him King Cole."
"Beth! That's jes' lovely! And the one over there by the wall ought to be a queen. Can't nennybody 'member a queen's name?"
"'The queen was in the kitchen, eating bread and honey,' and 'The queen of hearts, she made some tarts, all on a summer day,' are all the queens I can think of just now." Dick puckered his forehead, trying to remember some other royal ladies.
"They was a queen in that fairy story Mary told us yesterday. Doesn't you 'member, Berta?"
"Oh, yes. Queen Mab. That's a nice name."
"Then the two young birds ought to be a prince and a princess."
"But they's two more teapots to name first, Dick, before we begin with the birds and squirrels and ev'ything same as that."
"But what do you think teapots are——oh, I say, Beth, why don't you call them right? Teapots are things you make tea in." The moment he had spoken, Dick was sorry. He had never teased the little girls about their mistakes; but it was too much for him when he found himself making the same ones. In dismay, he saw Beth's lips begin to quiver.
"But——but——I thinked——that was what ev'ybody——called them, Dick."
Berta's dark eyes flashed, and putting her arms around her sister, she began, "And that's jes' 'zactly what I thinked, too, and I said it first that afternoon-time when we came to see Bird-a-Lea, and ev'ybody makes 'stakes sometimes, Daddy says, and I thinked they's two kinds of teapots 'zactly the same as you said they's a bat that flies around and a bat that you hit a ball with, and——and——and I doesn't think it's very p'lite for you to laugh at our 'stakes, so I doesn't."
"Berta! why,Berta! Is that the way my little girl speaks to a guest?"
"I——I guess I wasn't a very p'lite guest, Aunt 'Lisbeth. I——I laughed at something Beth said and 'most made her cry; and Mother says a gentleman never makes a lady cry. But she didn't cry," Dick hastened to add. "They're not cry babies like some of my girl cousins are."
This praise, with his manly way of taking all the blame, quite softened Berta's heart.
"Please 'scuse me for saying such drefful things, Dick, and you can laugh at our 'stakes all you want to. Mother, whatdoesyou think Beth and I called those amanals over there? Teapots!teapots! Oh, my dear! Wasn't that jes' too funny! Wasn't that jes' too funny for nennything!" Berta sank on the steps, and even Beth had to join in her merry laugh, while her mother agreed with her: "So funny, dear, that I would be very much surprised if Dick and Jack, too, did not laugh at you. And it is better to speak of those animals as birds. Say the name after me."
When they had repeated it several times, Berta added, "But we's going to call them other names, Mother,——King Cole and Queen Mab for the father and mother birds; andcanyou 'member us of a prince and princess for the chillun birds?"
"The young birds, dear. A prince and princess? So you wish to have a royal family, do you? Let me see. What would you think of Prince Charming and Princess Winsome?"
"They're great, Aunt 'Lisbeth!"
"Jes' beauty, Mother!" And the twins danced about in great glee.
"It is time to find Jerry if you wish to take Aunt Mary some fruit and flowers. Come, we shall see whether he is in the garden."
Promptly at eleven o'clock, the four climbed the high front steps at the convent, the little girls with great bundles of flowers, the boys with a basket of peaches and grapes between them. Mother Madeline, busy as she was, took them to her office and gave each of them a pretty holy picture and a little medal, and then sent for Mary and Wilhelmina to look after them. Such a time as the girls made over them. Those who had been with Mary during the lonely years when she had been separated from her little sisters, crowded around the twins in particular, until Mary, fearing that the boys might be hurt, hurried the four away to the Kindergarten. Then the bell rang for dismissal, and with little Dorothy among them, they romped home to luncheon.
"No Beth, I jes' doesn't knowwhatwe's going to do 'bout it, so I doesn't." Berta seated herself on the lowest of the front steps, and with her dimpled elbows propped on her knees and her dimpled chin in her hands, stared straight ahead of her, winking very hard. "They isn't nennybody to play with nenny more, not ever, ever at all."
"Not ever, ever at all," came Beth's mournful echo; and all her winking could not keep back two big tears, which trickled down her fair little face.
Mary, with her books under her arm, was just turning the corner of the porch. She stopped and stared at the two on the steps. Then, "'Dear, dear, what can the matter be,'" she sang; and seating herself between them, she put an arm around each.
"They——they isn't nennybody to play with, and we can't have nenny fun, not ever, ever, nenny more at all." Berta gulped hard and winked faster than ever.
"No one to play with! No more fun! Why, haven't you each other? If you only knew it, you are the luckiest little girls in the world. When I was little like you, I would have given all my beautiful picture books and dolls and other toys for a little sister to play with, no matter how old she was. And here you are exactly the same age. And then what about me, I should like to know? Just because I have to go to school for a while every day, aren't you going to play with me any more? and Wilhelmina? and what about all those nice little girls you saw in the Kindergarten yesterday? Why, you just make me laugh when you say such things. Our good times are just beginning, twinnies; don't you know that?"
"But——but, Mary, we——we like Dick and Jack to stay at our house ev'y single time, so we do, and——and now they's gone home with Aunt Etta, and——and——"
"Of course, Beth, we are all sorry that they couldn't stay longer; but how do you think Uncle Phil and the other boys have been getting along without Aunt Etta? You wouldn't like it so very well if Mother should go away and take me and leave you and Father and Uncle Frank here all alone, would you?"
"N——no, Mary, but——"
"But jes' Dick and Jack could stay, Mary. Uncle Phil and Aunt Etta has so many chilluns—nine whole chilluns, you know; and they's only three in our fambly."
"But with Phil and Harry and Wilhelmina away at school, I am sure they feel that they can't spare any more. Aunt Etta will bring Dick and Jack to visit us again some time, and then we shall try to keep them longer. We ought to be glad that we have Wilhelmina. Here she comes now with Father."
"But where's Mother, Mary, where's Mother?" There was real fright in the little ones' voices.
"Mother and Uncle have gone into the city to put Aunt Etta and the boys on the train that will take them to Georgia. Father and Wilhelmina went with them only as far as the station in the village, you know, because she had to be back in time for school."
"Well,mygood times are over, and I'll have to knuckle down to work now." Wilhelmina sighed deeply as she dropped on the step beside the three.
"That's jes' 'zactly what we thinked, too, Willy-mean; but Mary says the good times are jes' beginning; so you is making a 'stake, a most drefful 'stake, you see."
"So I am, Beth. The very idea for me to be growling when I ought to be so thankful that you are living out here instead of in the city, and that I shall come in on ever so many of the good times you are going to have."
"It is a quarter to, Wilhelmina. I looked everywhere for your books, but couldn't find them."
"I had to hide them from Jack. He was bound that he would tear a picture of some soldiers out of my history. Wait for me." Wilhelmina bounded up the steps and ran into the house.
"Fluff and Muff and Puffy-buff were making a great fuss when I went to look for you on the back porch. Have they had any breakfast to-day? and King Cole and all our other pets? I won't have time to help you take care of them in the morning, because I have to practice a half hour before I leave for school."
"We's going to ask Liza for some nice milk for the kitties and for a big plate of crumbs for the peacocks and ev'ything this very 'zact instinct." And hand in hand, the twins hippity-hopped along the walk leading around to the kitchen.
Mary went slowly across the lawn, stopping at the little gate to wait for Wilhelmina. She turned and looked back over the beautiful grounds of her new home, and her eyes rested lovingly on her father on the front porch, then on her little sisters busily feeding their pets. She thought of the wonderful change which had come into her life since the first day of school a year ago. Then, returning from her visit to Wilhelmina's home, she had believed that she would never again see her dear ones in this life. Now, her heart beat high with the hope that they would be spared for many, many years to a peaceful, happy home life at beautiful Bird-a-Lea.