Mrs. Kump's home, a one-storied frame building, stood on the west bank of a run that trickled down from the hills to the river; a small window faced the main road, while two others with the 'front' door between, opened upon a porch thickly trellised with grape vines; a couple of steps at one end of the porch led to a wooden platform which bridged the stream.
At six o'clock that morning the dew lay heavy upon the matted grape leaves, and over the little vegetable garden behind the house, with its outlying poles of hop-vines and sweet-peas.
The scent of pennyroyal came from the banks of the stream; the birds twittered round the little gray house and the sun shone upon it feebly, through a thick wall of fog.
Stepping softly across the bridge and through the green opening of the porch went Hugh and Mat, those worthy aids of the Happy-Go-Luckys; in front of the door they placed the birthday offerings, and then, giving a resounding knock on the panel, they ran and hid in the bushes across the road.
Presently the door opened and a gray head peered forth, then out stepped a thin figure in a blue calico wrapper. With hands upraised she advanced to the porch steps.
"The grocer's man made a mistake," the boys heard her say. She gazed along the road but no one was in view. Retracing her steps she bent over the baskets.
"There's a card on 'em. The owner's name, I reckon. I'll get my specs and see!"
"Now's our chance to light out!" whispered Mat, and away they flew.
Mrs. Lee crossed the bridge that same evening, followed by Nettie in starched white frock and golden curls.
A clump of hollyhocks made a gorgeous splash of color against the wall of the house beneath the end window. Four-o'clocks, ragged-robins and blue lark-spur struggled up through the cabbages and long grass of the little garden, to bid them welcome, and at the door they were met by the mistress of the house, who had heard their footsteps.
Mrs. Kump was a large-boned woman of medium height; her complexion was of golden bronze; the flesh had fallen, giving her cheeks a square set, and her dark eyes gleamed brightly beneath a broad wrinkled brow; a cap of black lace surmounted her head, a white net fichu was crossed on her breast and fastened with a cameo pin in a wide gold frame, and her dress was of silver gray.
She led the way into the little sitting-room and drew aside the muslin half-curtains. Through the open window came the murmur of the running stream, the scent of pennyroyal, and the rays of the setting sun.
A striped rag carpet covered the floor and the walls, with gorgeous papering of flowers and vines, were hung with many old fashioned pictures.
There was the Lord's Prayer in an intricate design of crimson and gold, a framed sampler and motto, and smaller pictures in square and oval frames; these for the most part friends and relatives of the owner, their pictured features shadowed and dimmed by time.
In the middle of the room a square table with a red, woolen cover, held a half-dozen books cross-cornered one upon the other in several groups; a glass lamp filled with red-colored water and oil stood in the center, the top covered with a paper shade and the bottom swathed in a woolen mat.
A high, wooden mantel, painted black, occupied the other end of the room; the fireplace was hidden by a square, cambric screen, with a cut-out picture of fruit and flowers pasted in the center. Nettie's glance was immediately taken by a white marble book, with yellow painted edges and clasps, lying upon the old glass-knobbed bureau.
Mrs. Kump drew the straight-backed rattan rocker to the open window, giving it a hurried dusting with her black silk apron, and invited Mrs. Lee to be seated.
Then, as she noticed her visitor looking at the quilting frames which occupied one end of the room, she said,
"You'll think I'm slighting your quilt, Mis' Lee!—I got so far back on the job, with my poor legs bothering me so! But sez I to myself, 'I'll try and catch up on Thursday,' but when I went to the door this mornin' and found the good fairies' offerings, I fairly wilted. I made up my mind to keep the day, and I'm keepin' it; I haven't done a stroke of work!"
Mrs. Lee looked interested.
"The day—yes—I believe you told me—"
"My birthday—sixty-seven—the years do run up when once you begin to count 'em! But about the baskets—thinks I to myself, 'The grocer's man left 'em at the wrong place,' but he must have druv away fast, there wasn't a soul in sight, and then I comes in for my specs and there was my name writ in black and white 'Mrs. Keturah Kump, with best wishes for her birthday!' I nearly wilted! I got so narvous-like that I could hardly lift 'em! And who was livin' to care for me or my birthday? All my folks dead—all but the young ones. They live out west and don't bother their heads about me. But about the baskets—you'd orter see what they held—a good share of everything—I'll show you my cupboard stocked, and lots of things down cellar—and there, I'd been worryin' and doubtin', not bein' able to work for so long. I don't mind tellin' you, Mis' Lee, now that things is changed for the best, that I was about at the end of my string. Sugar and tea about out and not enough flour to last a day longer! I unpacked the baskets and stood and looked at the things—butter and eggs and bread and cake and blackberry jam, the only spread I ever et, and I put 'em away as if in a dream, leavin' out a snack to make breakfast, though I was so excited I couldn't swallow a bite!
"I put on a drawin' of tea, and puttered about settin' the table, when all at once I spied a little passel that I had set aside when I brought the baskets in. So I opened it—and what do you think! I sat right down by the table and cried and cried! It seemed to me that the other things might be for any old, worn-out woman, but this was just for me, and it went straight to my heart! The loveliest blue box, the inside fixed with lace just like the valentines that poor David sent me when he came courtin', and it was filled with candy, the loveliest you ever saw!—with real cherries and vi'lets fixed up, lookin' too good to eat! Just think—for me, a poor old woman that most people would think it all wasted on! Something beautiful came over the day, I felt young again, and vigorous and proud and happy all at once, just like I used to feel long years ago when I'd first see the Johnny-jump-ups in the spring, way down in the medder near the creek!"
Mrs. Kump rose suddenly and went to the big bureau, wiping her glasses as she went. Coming back, she proudly displayed Alene's box.
"Take some, child," she said to Nettie, "and you too, Mis' Lee! I thought at first it was too good for me to eat but it'll get spiled, so I'll eat it little by little, and I can keep the box to hold some trinkets I've had for years! Just see the little silver tongs! Nothin' was too good for me! Why, I felt so perked up that I got out my best dress and my silk apron, to do honor to the day!"
A score of years seemed to fall from the speaker, her eyes gleamed brightly, as she glanced from her silver-toned best dress to her listener's sympathetic countenance.
As she wended her way homeward with Nettie, who carried a huge bouquet from Mrs. Kump's garden, Mrs. Lee's thoughts dwelt on the old lady's words.
"I wish the girls had been along to hear—Ah, there they are!" she said, as, coming in sight of the Bonner house, she saw Laura and Ivy seated on the front steps.
Nettie gave a screech of delight and jumped across a gutter to make a short cut to exhibit her flowers.
Mrs. Bonner, hearing voices, came to the door and one of the boys brought out chairs for her and Mrs. Lee.
"As you are all so much interested, I guess I'll sit down a while and tell you all about Mrs. Kump's birthday!" said Mrs. Lee. "Now, not so many questions! Yes, she got the baskets with her name printed so artistically on the card, and she never suspects who gave the things. She has enough to tide her over for a long time, and the jam went to the right spot, but guess what it was that pleased her the most."
"Old ladies are very fond of tea," ventured Mrs. Bonner.
"The print of butter!" cried Ivy.
"Mrs. Bonner's coffee cake," said Laura.
They made several other guesses but Mrs. Lee still shook her head.
"I know," said Nettie quickly, "it was that blue box!"
"Not Alene's candy!" cried Laura, incredulously.
"Yes, that was it!"
Mrs. Lee thereupon told what Mrs. Kump had said, word for word.
A silence followed the recital.
"Who would have thought it?" Laura said at last.
"Ah, Laura dear, you forgot the thought behind the gift. 'The love of the giver is greater than the gift of the lover,'" said Mrs. Lee.
At the upper end of the wharf a small boat was anchored, gay in red paint with black trimmings. It consisted of a single deck only, on which was a raised cabin that extended the whole length of the boat, having doors at each end and several small windows on the sides.
The girls hastened along the broad plank, over the shallow space of water between the boat and the shore, and entered the wide front opening.
The interior resembled a country store.
A counter, running three quarters of the length of the boat and stacked with all sorts of glassware, divided the room in two parts.
Sandwiched between the counter and the shelves, which were also heavily laden with glass, was a clerk, intent upon the customers who crowded the narrow aisle.
And what queer customers they were! Boys and girls, for the most part poorly dressed, who kept an eye on the different articles displayed, or hovered round the large scales at one end of the counter, guarding strange looking bundles and baskets.
To Laura, who had visited the boat each summer for as long as she could remember, it was a familiar scene, but everything proved new and wonderful to Alene.
For a time they were content to wait and watch before making any investments.
"What are they doing?" inquired Alene, pointing to two boys who had dragged a battered basket and a great bundle to the scales.
"Just watch and you'll see."
The clerk took the basket which was filled with pieces of old iron, small bolts, nails, and such things, rusty and apparently good for nothing, and weighed it on the scales; its owners watched carefully to verify its correct weight, and while they calculated its value the clerk proceeded to weigh the bundle.
"Rags," whispered Laura to the wondering Alene. "They buy them from all the towns along the river and sell them in the city to make paper and things."
"The iron?"
"No, silly—that's made over I guess at the foundries."
Alene became interested in watching the two boys whose property had been valued. With an air of importance they turned their attention to choosing its equivalent in crystal ware.
After examining critically the different articles, the older boy at last decided upon a large plate with "Give us this day our daily bread" in fancy letters around the rim, but his companion hesitated between two pitchers.
"Oh, Laura!" Alene's cry of dismay drew Laura's attention. "He's going to buy that purple monstrosity!"
"I think that blue one with the bulgy sides is out o' sight," the boy was saying, his gaze straying from one to the other; "I wonder which ma would like the best!"
Laura stepped forward with an elder-sisterly air.
"Is it for water?" she inquired.
"Yes; ma broke her chiny one the other day and I want to s'prise her."
"Then I'd buy that white one with the frosted flowers; it will look so cool with the water sparkling through. You think the blue one is prettier I know, but it would not be so suitable for water. Don't you think so?"
"That's so, thank y', miss," said the boy, lifting the straw crown which served him as a hat.
Alene drew a breath of relief. "Oh, Laura, you know just what to do! I'm sure he wanted the purple-blue one awfully and he took the other just to please you!" she whispered as the boys left the boat with their treasures, giving a doubtful look backward at the abandoned pitcher.
Laura shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh, boys are funny; they mean well but their tastes run to bright things. Any girl in a gaudy dress is beautiful in their eyes!"
"And there isn't always a Laura near to point out the superiority of the girl in plain white," returned Alene with a sanctimonious air at which they both laughed.
"Now for our own choosing," said Laura briskly, and the clerk came forward to her nod.
They spent a delightful half hour at the counter fingering the pretty things, sometimes having as much trouble to decide between different objects as the boys had with their pitchers.
"I'll take this sweet little blue goblet for Ivy, and that pitcher for Mrs. Major, and the berry dish for Kizzie. I'd like to get Uncle Fred a new tobacco-jar to replace the one I broke, but I don't see any." Alene pointed out the things desired, all of which Laura had helped in selecting; then Laura bought her mother a cake-stand and Mrs. Bonner had commissioned her to buy a dozen tumblers, which purchase took much time and thought.
Presently Alene became aware of a pattering on the roof. Softly it came at first, then more and more insistent.
"Why, Lol, it's raining like—like in the days of Noah!" she cried.
"It's only a summer shower," said Laura carelessly.
Having completed their purchases, they strayed to the far end of the boat and discovered a narrow, paneled door which led to a tiny private cabin.
"It would make a lovely play-house!" exclaimed Laura as they peeped in.
It certainly looked inviting with its gay rug and crimson-cushioned furniture.
"What do you say? Let's slip in and wait for the rain to be over!"
Laura's proposition almost took Alene's breath away.
"But will they allow?"
"Oh, yes, what difference could it make? It's empty, so we won't be in anyone's way!" returned Laura airily, and as the rain still beat upon the boat, and they were both very tired, having been on their feet for several hours, so they entered the inviting little parlor without further hesitation.
It was cosy and snug within but rather stuffy, the small windows being closed; but the girls seated side by side on the big chair beside the table found the situation very enjoyable.
"I feel like a traveler, as if we were taking a sail to some outlandish place," said Laura, getting up to adjust her hat before a small mirror set in the wall, beneath which was a stationary wash-stand with holes for bowl and pitcher.
"Let's pretend we're on one of those funny Chinese boats like Uncle Fred told me about; they have large, painted eyes without which no Chinaman would set sail. They say; 'No got eye, no can see—no can see, no can walkee!'"
Alene placed her bundles on the center table and leaned back cosily in the cushioned chair. She was in the midst of a reverie where a queer-looking Chinese mandarin was trying to persuade her to buy a blue glass pitcher, when Laura's voice brought her back to reality.
"Alene, Alene, it's moving—the boat!"
"But it's tied to that big iron ring—it can't move from the wharf!"
There was a creaking and straining of the woodwork around them which they had not noticed before. Laura ran to a window, followed by Alene. The hills appeared to be gliding by! Sure enough, the boat was moving; it had left the shore while they were talking.
For a moment they had a strange sensation.
"It's like being abducted," said Alene.
"Oh, dear, I wonder how far they will go!"
They ran through the paneled door to the front of the boat. The clerk was busy arranging his stock.
"Why, I thought everybody was gone!" he cried in surprise.
"We went into the cabin to rest awhile; we never dreamed you were going away. Where will the boat go?"
The young man laughed.
"Oh, don't get scared! We are only bound across the river a few miles above, to catch the train! Wait, maybe I can get Jones to return and land you first."
He came back in a few minutes.
"He says he can't do it; the captain is coming on the train and if we fail to meet him 'on the dot' it's as much as his job is worth. But it won't take very long and then we'll put back and land you at home."
The girls were forced to be content. They returned to the cabin and discussed the situation.
"I wish Ivy could have come along, she would enjoy this," cried Laura.
When the boat at length drew near to shore and a plank was thrown out, they went on deck and gazed around.
In front and on each side as far as they could see, a steep, scrubby bank reached up to the railway tracks which swept along the foot of the hills. A small wooden tower stood near the tracks a short distance away. The rain had ceased as suddenly as it had come and the sunlight lay on river and land.
"The train must be late," remarked the clerk. A muffled rumble was heard—"Hark, there it is now!"
But it turned out to be a freight, which drew its long length past, like a many-jointed snake.
Time passed slowly to the impatient girls. The young man ran up to the tower to make inquiries.
"The operator says our train may be hour late," he reported.
He felt very sorry for their dilemma, but he knew it would be useless to ask the man in charge to make a special trip to let them off.
Laura and Alene glanced at each other.
"If he says one hour, it may be more and then it will take quite a time to get back," murmured the former.
"Couldn't we walk to some bridge and cross over?"
"I don't know the way, and I never heard of any bridge nearer than Westville, three miles above. Let's take a walk, it'll help pass the time," proposed Laura.
They crossed the plank and wandered arm in arm along the shore.
"I suppose they'll soon have the bellman out ringing for us! To think the dire fate I've often predicted for Nettie when she tarries on the way from school should happen to myself instead!"
"Hello, there!"
Across the water came this welcome hail. A skiff manned by a boy came in sight rounding the bend of the river.
The girls paused and waved their handkerchiefs.
"Is he calling to us? I wonder who it can be!"
"Why, it's Mark Griffin!" cried Alene, with a gulp of delight.
They stood watching the movements of the skiff, fearing it would turn in some other direction and leave them in their plight.
"Maybe he's going on down the river," wailed Laura.
Alene waved her handkerchief more energetically.
"He wouldn't do that!"
"But he doesn't know we're abducted and cast away on this unfriendly coast," rejoined Laura, whose courage increased with the nearer approach of the boat.
It was evident the rower had no intention of turning aside; he aimed in their direction with even and rapid strokes of the oars which soon covered the expanse of water between.
"I noticed you girls running out on deck when the boat drew off and I thought something was wrong and hurried over to see," he explained half shyly, as he drew the boat to shore.
"Oh, have you come to take us home?" cried Alene. "How lovely of you!"
"I'll run back to the cabin for our packages," and Laura, not waiting for his reply, hurried away.
"If you don't object to going with me!"
"Object! Why, we are delighted at the chance! We didn't know what to do!"
Alene told the cause of their predicament, which the boy had already guessed.
"It seems funny you thought we would object to being rescued by you; you didn't wait to find out if we objected or not, that day at the picnic, and the day you faced the mad bull!"
He laughed.
"Excuse me, you see the old fellow was so quick he didn't give me a chance! But this is different!"
Alene was silent. She was afraid he might think her a great baby were she to say how very,verymuch relieved she was by his presence.
"Well, I guess Hugh Bonner would object," returned the lad.
Alene stepped gingerly into the boat, trying to hide her nervousness when it rocked beneath her and Mark came to her assistance.
"Sit here in the bow and I'll bail out this water," he said.
Alene found it a very spacious and pleasant seat; the rolling of the boat which had alarmed her when standing gave her only a delightful sensation. She put her hand over the side of the skiff and let the water glide through her fingers while she watched with interest the movements of the boy.
"You didn't answer my question," he remarked at last.
"What question?"
"About Hugh objecting."
"Why should he object? Here's Laura with our bundles!" She moved aside to let her friend step into the boat.
The packages were put in a safe place, Mark grasped the oars, Laura, who felt perfectly at home on the water, took a third oar and they started on their homeward way.
"How glad I am to leave the bleak coast of China!" cried Laura.
"You mean Glass-gow, don't you?" spoke up the boy, pointing over his shoulder to where the friendly clerk stood calling, 'Bon voyage!' from the deck of the glass-boat.
The girls laughed.
"I guess we will have to forgive him?"
Alene glanced across the water.
"I suppose we had better, at any rate until we reach dry land," she replied.
"Won't Ivy be sorry she missed this good chance to say 'thank you, sir,' for rescuing us again?" remarked Laura.
"Do you mean the little girl with the big, snapping eyes and—"
"Yes; she was offended with Hugh because he failed to drag you back with him to be thanked prettily by us girls!"
"I didn't want any thanks, but I suspect Hugh wasn't sorry I wouldn't go with him. I'm afraid he doesn't approve of me?"
Laura became suddenly occupied with her rowing and Alene felt called upon to answer.
"Why—" she hesitated.
"You needn't be afraid to say; I know they think I'm a bad case!"
"Oh—no, Hugh said you were all right byyourself!"
"Then he doesn't like my chums?"
"He said if you would give up those Stony Road boys—"
"I'm no snob to go back on a boy because he's poor!"
"Why, it's not that! Hugh and his chums are poor but—"
"They say they torture animals!" broke in Laura.
"I told them I was sure you wouldn't allow that," Alene protested.
Her warm defense seemed to mollify the boy; his air of mockery and resentment fell away and he gave her a grateful glance. Then his attention became absorbed in keeping the skiff a safe distance from some passing barges.
For a time there was silence. The boy cleared the tow and continued rowing, giving all his attention to the boat.
The girls glanced at each other, fearing they had offended him.
With a sudden impulse he ceased his energetic rowing and let the skiff drift. His face flushed as he said:
"For myself I make no defense, but you may tell Mr. Hugh that so far as my chums are concerned he's bearing false witness. They may be poor and rough and unruly, but they're not cruel! They belong to the Torchlights!"
"The Torchlights?" cried the girls in duet.
But the boy had resumed his oars, cutting the water vigorously as though glad of a vent for his pent-up indignation. Alene wondered what he meant by the Torchlights, but did not like to ask; Laura more venturesome inquired,
"The Torchlights? What are they?"
"A sort of club," he responded, shutting his mouth with an air of finality that vexed them.
They glanced at each other. Laura's half-curled lip said plainly, "As if we really cared!" and Alene's returned scornfully, "The idea!"
They pretended not to notice his taciturnity and talked lightly to each other of their purchases and other personal matters.
The lad, left to his own reflections, continued rowing manfully. Presently he announced,
"I'll land you at the upper end of the wharf, that will be nearer home."
"Oh, thank you, that will save us quite a walk!" returned Laura.
"And I'll get home before Uncle Fred," cried Alene.
"Wouldn't they all have been scared if we had had to wait for the glass-boat to take us home?"
The boy smiled. He thought there were others who would have been scared in that event.
"Is Mr. Fred Dawson your uncle?"
"Yes. Do you know him?"
"I used to be captain of the Fred Dawson Baseball Club," he replied with a tone of pride.
"How nice!" and Alene determined to ask her uncle all about it that very night. "Ah, here's the wharf! It seems to be coming right up to us!"
A few minutes later their light, little craft swept in to shore.
Mark gallantly gathered up the bundles and handed them out to Laura, who had skipped lightly across the bow to the bleached stones of the wharf, then he gave his hand to his more timid passenger and she stepped ashore.
"And the Happy-Go-Luckys will be on time as usual," cried Laura, as they said good-by to Mark, who intended taking the skiff farther up the river.
"The Happy-Go-Luckys? Who are they?" he exclaimed.
"A sort of a club," returned Laura demurely, glancing mirthfully at Alene ere they turned away to climb the hilly homeward path.
Ivy turned disconsolately from the window. She had waved good-by to Laura and Alene when they had looked round at the corner ere passing from view on their way to the glass-boat.
The trip had been postponed from day to day in the hope of her being able to go along, and even at the last moment her friends had wished to give it up and devote the afternoon to an indoor meeting of the Happy-Go-Luckys; but Ivy would not have it so; she insisted on their going, she vetoed every argument to the contrary, but now that they were beyond recall and she faced the empty room she almost regretted her persistence.
And yet it was a pleasant room enough, with nothing of luxury to recommend it but having an air of quiet comfort. An unobtrusive wall paper, a green-and-oak carpet, a bright rug before the fire-place, which was filled with tall ferns; a picture of the "Mammoth Trees of California," above the mantel, a lamp with a green globe hanging over the center-table, a few chairs, and Ivy's couch drawn close to the two windows with their snowy curtains—all beautifully neat and clean, but alas, so tiresomely familiar to the little prisoner. Even the sight of her books piled at the foot of the lounge wearied her!
She threw aside the beloved Sunset Book after vainly trying to get interested in it. How flat and unprofitable it seemed! Why could she never write anything but the trite and useless things that almost anyone who was able to hold a pen could say as well or better? The verses about the four o'clocks, which the other day had seemed a pretty conceit, to-day sounded silly, fit only for the little waste-basket at her side, where she threw them with disdain.
Life was unprofitable, friends noticeable only by their absence; even the faithful Hugh had deserted her. He had made no motion toward "making up" since the day they went blackberrying—it would have served him right if the bull had put an end to her! If that boy Mark Griffin hadn't interfered—and why he had she didn't know, what business was it of his?—Hugh, instead of wearing his air of indifference, would be crying his eyes out beside her dead body—or rather her grave, for she would be buried and done with by this time. But no; here she herself, instead of Hugh, was crying over it! For the last week he had been even less attentive than ever; he was up and out long before she awoke in the mornings, came home at noon to snatch a hasty lunch and was off again after supper until bedtime, with only a careless nod to her, Ivy, whom he had hitherto allowed to claim all his attention and the little leisure time he could spare from his work as office-boy and assistant clerk in a real-estate firm down street.
Heigho! Who was that coming? Claude and Nettie, hand in hand, with beaming faces and crumby lips!
"Oh, you greedy youngsters, where do you put all the cake and things you devour, anyway?"
Simultaneously two mouths were opened wide.
"They are big enough naturally, you needn't stretch them! No wonder you are both noted dunces in your class—you are nothing but mouth and stomach! Come here, I've a little time. Let's see what you can do!"
"I can figure!" said Nettie proudly, but she eyed the slate upon which Ivy had written, half abashed.
"Three plus two equals what?" said Ivy.
"Six!"
"No, try again!"
"Six!" cried Nettie decidedly again.
"No; five, stupid!"
"Six," reiterated Nettie, "Teacher says so!"
"That's three multiplied by two; I said threeplus—"
"Well, it's six at our school," declared Nettie doggedly, her eyes half filled with tears.
"To think you are any relation to Laura! Why, she's as bright—"
"She's big, and awful old, and not half as nice as Nettie!" cried Claude.
"Indeed, no wonder you stand up for her! You don't even know the alphabet!"
"Yes, I do!"
"Well, see here!" Ivy picked up his primer.
"I don't want to study—it's vacation!" said Claude, drawing back.
"He may injure his brain by overstudy; such a precocious scholar!"
Nettie pursed out her lip. "Precious scolder herself!" she muttered.
"Come, Claude, I'll give you this big red apple if you say it correctly," urged Ivy.
"A—B—C," commenced Claude bravely, "A—B—C—Poke Bonnet."
"No, that's D!"
"Well, it looks like a poke," returned Claude.
"How funny! It only needs a bow and string, see?" cried the little girl.
Claude proceeded with the letters:
"L—M—N—the same old hoop—I ought to know its name."
"O," whispered Nettie.
He turned upon her indignantly—
"I was just going to say O—that's easy! P—Q—R—little wormy thing—Oh, bother T—U—V—W—let's see, see-saw, X—wizie!" he concluded triumphantly and with a sudden movement he snatched the apple from Ivy's lap.
"Come back, you didn't earn it!" commanded Ivy.
"I did, didn't I, Nettie?" he cried, digging his uneven little teeth into the rosy cheek of the apple.
"Come here at once!"
Ivy reached for her crutches but Nettie, too quick for her, grabbed one and fled with Claude, while Ivy in a rage threw the other after them. Across the floor it sailed and hit against the wall with a resounding clap.
"That's the end of my teaching, and everything I do trying to help others ends just that way! Now in the story-books the children are good and no matter how dull, anxious to learn and thankful to be taught, and the teacher gets some satisfaction out of it! I believe the only respectable children are in books; the others are imps! Dear me! I feel like knocking my head against the wall!" She threw herself upon the sofa and pressed her face against its fir-scented cushions.
Presently soft footsteps were heard. A lady entered the room, and glancing from the discarded crutch to the couch, crossed the floor and placed her hand caressingly on the curly mop of hair.
"Are you asleep, Ivy?" she inquired gently.
"No, mamma, just thinking."
"Is there anything I can do? Here is a cool drink."
"No, thank you—yes, I guess I will, I am rather thirsty!" She sat up and eagerly drank the lemonade.
"Were the children naughty? I thought they might amuse you for a while—"
"They were simply diabolical—but just on a par with all the rest! The girls gone to enjoy themselves—and that hateful Hugh running away every day as though afraid I might encroach on his valuable time—and—"
"Hugh? Why, what has he done?"
"He's not been the same since that day we went blackberrying."
"'We have pleasant words for the stranger,And smiles for the sometimes guest;But for our own the bitter toneThough we love our own the best,'"
quoted Mrs. Bonner. "I'm afraid that's your way with Hugh, sometimes, Ivy, and as for the girls leaving you alone, you almost ran them out of the house!"
"They might as least have called in on their way home!"
"Have they gone past?"
"I haven't seen them, but they were to be back about half past four and see, it's nearly six—Ah, here they are now!"
The girls came bustling in.
"All the way from China!" cried Laura breathlessly.
Ivy listened to their adventures with glowing eyes.
"So the buccaneers took you captive for ransom and carried you across the ocean; but a gallant ship, flying the American colors and commanded by a brave knight, came to your relief, swept the pirate fleet from off the sea and brought you away, leaving the waves red with gore!"
"And here we are with all our valuables intact, even to this little vase of purest amethyst," said Alene, handing Ivy the blue glass goblet, while Laura gave a package to Mrs. Bonner, saying impressively:
"And these tumblers of priceless glittering crystal are yours, dear madame; here's your change—fifteen cents—they only cost a nickle apiece."
This called forth a chorus of mirthful exclamations, in the midst of which two little figures came quietly in. Emboldened by Ivy's smiling countenance, they stole to her side and displayed a collection of bright pebbles which they had picked up from the flat, tar-coated roof of the foundry, which, being built against a hill, was easily reached from the upper street.
"We gathered them for you," said Nettie shyly.
"Oh, girls, while you were in China, these tots journeyed to the sea-shore in search of treasure, and I'm the Princess Lazybones who sits at home, and receives her subjects' peace-offerings."
"There, Alene has forgotten something," said Mrs. Bonner, picking up a small bundle from the table. Laura reached for it, intending to overtake Alene who had gone away a few minutes before, but a glance showed that it was marked in pencil, "For Laura," in Alene's handwriting.
"For me, and she didn't buy a single thing for herself," grumbled Laura, untying the cord. "Isn't it just too sweet!" She held up a dish of pale pink glass with a knot of blue forget-me-nots in the corner.
"It's beautiful!" exclaimed Ivy. "I was just going to say that somebody else forgot to buy a single thing for herself, but I see Alene didn't forget her!"
"That little sly piece, and I never noticed her at it!" Laura said, secretly hoping that a certain quaint amber-colored bowl which she had deftly tucked away among Alene's purchases would prove as pleasant a surprise to Alene.
Hugh, coming in to supper just before Laura went home, peeped into the room in time to hear Ivy's laughing remark,
"We should confer upon Sir Mark the title of 'Rescuer-in-Chief to the Happy-Go-Luckys!'"
Hugh, with a hasty nod to the girls, turned away.
"Don't be in such a hurry, Hugh! I've just been telling Ivy how thrilling it was, when just in our moment of despair, Mark Griffin appeared—"
"Like the hero on a stage," interrupted Hugh.
"No, in a skiff," corrected Laura.
"I've no time for rhapsodies now," said Hugh curtly. He turned away with Ivy's voice, "Hear! Hear!" ringing mockingly on the air.
Through the open window came the sound of children's voices,
"Here comes an old woman from New Foundland.With all of her children in her hand,"
shrill and clamoring, but powerless to disturb Ivy who, seated beside the window with her blue goblet beside her and a pad of writing paper on her lap, was busy writing.
After a series of brow puckerings and erasures, she gave a sigh of contentment.
"There it's finished! I'll read it over and put it in the Sunset Book to-morrow!"
The old woman from New Foundland had gone home to bed, and Claude, one of her shrill-voiced children, had rushed in sleepily and thrown himself upon the rug, where he lay oblivious to all things, when the absent-minded Ivy came out of her trance; the first thing she saw was his chubby, outstretched form with both arms flung above the touzled head from which his cap had partly fallen.
The smile of sisterly love and pride with which she enveloped him, must have pierced the vale of unconsciousness, for the lad stirred and smiled in his sleep.
Ivy took the goblet and poured the pebbles into her lap. They fell against one another with a velvety sound, and gave forth a rainbow of color, like precious stones in the light of the lamp.
She mused happily over them, the children's treasures, gathered so carefully and given so generously.
"How cross I was to-day and all for nothing! I must be one of those 'hirelings' who are always 'looking for consolations' for I feel consoled to-night; if only Hugh—"
A noise was heard in the little entry; footsteps and voices, and then a pushing as of something being moved up the steps.
"What's that? It's Hugh's voice and there's someone with him!"
Ivy glanced expectantly toward the open doorway. Presently Hugh and another boy, their faces reddened with exertion, appeared carrying some object between them. Could it be—yes, it was a writing desk, such as Ivy had often seen in dreams and store windows, but never hoped to possess! Her heart gave a sudden jump and then seemed to stand still.
"Bub, be careful you don't scrape it against the side of the door! Hello, sis—where's the best place to put it?"
Hugh tried to speak in a careless tone, but Ivy's scream of pleasure, the sudden crimson roses that bloomed in her thin cheeks, and the shower of stars which flashed through and dried the mist in her eyes, brought a funny grip to his throat; he gulped and made a wry face.
"Say, Fatty, look out! You knocked my hand against the wall!"
Attracted by the noise, Mrs. Bonner came in, Claude awoke and everybody crowded round to see the new article of furniture.
It was placed where Ivy could admire it at leisure, and the strange boy having said good-night, Hugh displayed a lovely bronze key, unlocked the lid and disclosed all its attractions.
"See this little drawer and the shelves, and the place for your ink and paper, and the large drawer below, and then there's a secret drawer I'll show you when the rest are not here," Hugh whispered the latter part.
A secret drawer! Ivy clapped her hands—what a heavenly culmination of attractions! And the desk as a whole, of quartered-oak with bronzed handles and a shelf with a tiny mirror above, was indeed a beauty.
"Oh, Hugh, how—where did you get it?"
"I've been working overtime nights at Pearson's furniture store. The old man's sick and his son had to stay home evenings. I bargained to stay in his place and take it out this way! I kind of thought you'd like it," Hugh explained breathlessly, glancing from his auditors to the desk.
"Oh, Hugh!" cried Ivy deprecatingly.
"It was dead easy! Hardest part was to keep it quiet so to surprise you. It wouldn't do to get too friendly or I'd a blurted it out!"
Hugh's head was bending over the desk, dangerously close to Ivy as it proved, for she gave his hair a sudden pull.
"Oh, Hugh, you good-for-nothing!" she cried.