Then, too, Dr. Llewellyn in his love for the classics made them a fairy world for the girl and the commingling of the practical with the ideal maintained the balance.
When one o'clock came dinner was served and after that Dr. Llewellyn went his way and Peggy hurried off to her beloved horses.
On this day Columbine was to bid good-bye to Severndale. As Peggy entered the big airy stable with its row upon row of scrupulously neat box stalls, for no other sort was permitted in Severndale, Columbine greeted her from one of them, as though asking: "Why am I kept mewed up in here while all my companions are enjoying their daily liberty out yonder?"
Peggy opened the gate and entered the stall. The beautiful creature nestled to her like a petted child.
"Oh, my bonny one, my bonny one, how can I send you away?" asked Peggy softly. "Will they be good to you out yonder? Will they understand what a prize they have got? Washington is far away and so big and so fashionable, they tell me. It would break my heart to have you misused."
The filly nickered softly.
"I am going to send a little message with you. If they read it they will surely pay heed to it."
She drew from the pocket of her blouse a little package. It was not over an inch wide or three long, and was carefully sealed in a piece of oil silk. Parting the thick, luxuriant mane, she tied her missive securely underneath. When the silky hair fell back in place the little message was completely concealed. Peggy clasped her arms about the filly's neck, kissed the soft muzzle and said:
"Good-bye, dear. I'll never forget you and I wonder if I shall ever hear of you or see you again?"
Her eyes were full of tears as she left the stable. Two hours laterColumbine was led from her happy home. What later befell her we willlearn in a future volume of Peggy Stewart. Meanwhile we must followPeggy's history.
On the following Saturday, in the golden glow of an October afternoon, with the hills a glory of color and the air as soft as wine, Peggy drove Comet and Meteor, her splendid carriage horses, to the Bound Bay station to meet Mrs. Harold and her niece. Tzaritza bounded along beside the surrey and old Jess, the coachman of fifty years, sat beside his young mistress, almost bursting with pride as he watched the skill with which she handled the high-spirited animals, for Jess had taught her to drive when she was so tiny that he had to hold her upon his lap, and keep the little hands within the grasp of his big black ones.
Leaving the horses in his care she stepped upon the little platform which did primitive duty as a station, to await the arrival of the electric car which could already be heard humming far away up the line.
As her guests stepped from the car she advanced to meet them, saying as she extended her hand to Mrs. Harold:
"This is Mrs. Harold, I reckon. I am Peggy Stewart. I am glad to meet you."
There was not the least hesitation or self-consciousness and the frank smile which accompanied the words revealed all her pretty, even teeth. "I got your message and I am right glad to welcome you to Severndale."
The lady looked a trifle bewildered. She had expected to meet the owner of Severndale, or, certainly, a mature woman. Her correspondence had, it is true, been with a Margaret C. Stewart, whom she assumed to be Mr. Stewart's wife or some relative. Intuitively Peggy grasped the situation, but kept a perfectly sober face.
"I am very glad to come," said her guest, and added: "This is my niece,Polly Howland."
"It's nice to see and know you. I don't see many girls of my own age. Will you come to the surrey?" and she indicated with a graceful motion of her hand the carriage in waiting just beyond. Mrs. Harold and her niece followed their guide.
Old Jess made a sweeping bow. He must do the honors properly. Peggy helped her guests into the rear seat, then sprang lightly into the front one, drew on a pair of chamois gloves, and taking the reins from Jess, gave a low, clear whistle. Instantly Tzaritza bounded up from beneath some shrubbery where she had lain hidden, and cavorting to the horses' heads made playful snaps at their muzzles. The next second they had reared upon their hind legs. Mrs. Harold gave a little cry of terror and Polly laid hold of the side of the surrey. Peggy flashed an amused, dazzling smile over her shoulder at them as she said reassuringly:
"Don't be frightened. Down, Tzaritza. Steady, my beauties."
At her words the beautiful span settled down as quiet as lambs and swung into a gait which whirled the surrey along the picturesque, woodland road at a rate not to be despised, while Peggy drove with the master- hand of experience. Indeed she seemed to guide more by words than reins, or some perfectly understood signal to the splendid creatures which arched their necks, or laid back an ear to catch each low spoken word.
For a time Peggy's guests were too absorbed in watching her marvelous skill and almost uncanny power over her horses to make any comment. Then the young girl broke into a perfect ecstasy of delight as she cried:
"Oh, how do you do it? How beautiful they are and what a superb dog. It is a Russian wolfhound, isn't it?"
"Yes, she is a wolfhound. But I don't quite understand. Do what?" andPeggy glanced back questioningly.
"Why drive like that. Make them obey you so perfectly."
"Oh! Why I reckon it is because I have driven all my life. I can't remember when I haven't, and I love and understand them so well. That is all there is to it, I think. They will do almost anything for me. You see I was here when they were born and they have known me from the very first. That makes a lot of difference. And I have a great deal to do about the paddock. I superintend it. The horses are never afraid of me and if they don't know the meaning of fear one can do almost anything with them,"
How simple it was all said. Mrs. Harold was more and more puzzled. The drive was longer than she had expected it to be and she had ample time to observe her young hostess.
"And your mother or aunt, whom I infer is my correspondent, shall I meet her at Severndale!"
"My mother is not living, Mrs. Harold, and I have no own aunt; only an aunt by marriage, the widow of Daddy's only brother, but I have never seen her."
"Then I am at a loss to understand with whom I have been corresponding about a wonderful horse called Silver Star. Someone who signs her letters Margaret C. Stewart, and who evidently knows what she is writing about, too, for she writes to the point and has told me a dozen things which no one but an experienced business woman would think of telling. Yet you tell me there is neither a Mrs. nor Miss Stewart at Severndale."
"I am afraid I am the only Miss Stewart at Severndale, though I am never called Miss Stewart. I'm just Miss Peggy to the help, and Peggy to my friends. But, of course, when I write business letters I have to sign my full name."
"You write business letters. Do you mean to tell me you wrote those letters'?"
"I'm the only Margaret Stewart," answered Peggy, her eyes twinkling."But here we are at Severndale."
The span made a sharp turn and sped along a beautiful avenue over-arched by golden beeches and a moment later swept up to a stately old colonial mansion which must have looked out over the reaches of Round Bay for many generations.
It must be admitted that during the drive from the station Peggy's curiosity concerning her guests had been fully as lively as theirs regarding her. She had never known girl friends; there was but one home within reasonable reach of her own which harbored a girl near her own age and during the past year even this one had been sent off to boarding school, her parents realizing that the place was too remote to afford her the advantages her age demanded. Consequently, Peggy experienced a little thrill when she met Polly Howland. Here was a girl of her own age, her own station, and, if intuition meant anything, a kindred spirit. The moment of their introduction had been too brief for Peggy to have a good look at Polly, but now that they had reached Severndale she meant to have it, and while Mrs. Howland and Polly were exclaiming over the beauty of the old place, and the former was wondering how she could have lived in Annapolis so long without even being aware of its existence, Peggy, while apparently occupied in caring for her guests' welfare, was scrutinizing those guests very closely.
What she saw was a lady something past forty, a little above the average height, slight and graceful, with masses of dark brown hair coiled beneath a very pretty dark blue velvet toque, a face almost as fresh and fair as a girl's, large, dark brown expressive eyes, which held a light that in some mysterious manner appealed to Peggy and drew her irresistibly. They were smiling eyes with a twinkle suggestive of a sense of humor, a sympathetic understanding of the view-point of those of fewer years, which the mouth beneath corroborated, for the lips held a little curve which often betrayed the inward emotions. Her voice was soft and sweet and its intonation fell soothingly upon Peggy's sensitive ears. Taken altogether, her elder guest had already won Peggy's heart, though she would have found it hard to explain why.
And Polly Howland?
To describe Polly Howland in cold print would be impossible, for Polly was something of a chameleon. What Peggy saw was a young girl not quite as tall as herself, but slightly heavier and straight and lithe as a willow. Her fine head was topped with a great wavy mass of the deepest copper-tinted hair, perfectly wonderful hair, which glinted and flashed with every turn of the girl's head, and rolled back from a broad forehead white and clear as milk. The eyes beneath the forehead were a perfect cadet blue, with long lashes many shades darker than the hair. They were big eyes, expressive and constantly changing with Polly's moods, now flashing, now laughing, again growing dark, deep and tender. The nose had an independent little tilt, but the mouth was exquisitely faultless and mobile and expressive to a rare degree. Polly's eyes and mouth would have attracted attention anywhere.
Of course Peggy did not take quite this analytical view of either of her guests, though in a vague way she felt it all and an odd sense of happiness filled her soul which she would have found it hard to explain.
She led the way through the spacious hall and dining-room to the broad piazza from which the view was simply entrancing, and said:
"Won't you and Miss Howland be seated, Mrs. Harold; I am sure you must be hungry after your ride through this October air. We will have some refreshments and then go out to the paddock to see Silver Star."
Touching a little silver bell, which was promptly answered by Jerome, she ordered:
"Something extra nice for my guests, Jerome, and please send word toShelby that we will be out to the paddock in half an hour."
"Yes, missie, lamb, I gwine bring yo' a dish fitten f o' a queen."
Mrs. Harold dropped into one of the big East India porch chairs, saying:
"This is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. Polly, dear, look at the wonderful reds of those wings contrasted with the foliage back of them. Why have we never known of Severndale? Have you lived here long, Miss Stewart?"
"Would you mind calling me just Peggy? Miss Stewart makes me feel so old and grown-up," said Peggy unaffectedly.
Mrs. Harold smiled approvingly and Polly cried:
"Yes, doesn't it? I hate to be called Miss Howland. I'm not, anyway, forI have an older sister. Have you, too?"
"No," answered Peggy. "I have no one in the world but Daddy Neil, and he is away nearly all the time. I wish he were not. I miss him terribly. He spent August with me and I have never before missed him as I do this time. I have always lived here, Mrs. Harold. I was born here," she concluded in reply to Mrs. Harold's question.
"But your companions?" Mrs. Harold could not refrain from asking.
Peggy smiled.
"That was Daddy Neil's deepest concern during his last visit. He had not thought much about it before, I guess. I dare say you will think it odd, but my companions are mostly four-footed ones, though I am—what shall I call it? Guarded? chaperoned? cared for? by Harrison, Mammy Lucy and Jerome, with my legal guardian, Dr. Llewellyn to keep me within bounds. I dare say most people would consider it very unusual, but I am very happy and never lonely. Yes, Jerome, set the tray here, please," she ended as the butler returned bearing a large silver tray laden with a beautiful silver chocolate service, egg-shell cups straight from Japan, a plate of the most delicate, flaky biscuits, divided, buttered and steaming, flanked by another plate piled high with little scalloped- edged nut cakes, just fresh from Aunt Cynthia's oven.
Taking her seat beside the table Peggy poured and Jerome served in hismost dignified manner, while Mrs. Harold marveled more and more andPolly thought she had never in all her life seen a girl quite likePeggy.
"It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen," said Mrs.Harold.
"I am glad you like it, for I love it. Few people know of it. I mean few who come to Annapolis. I have lived here so quietly since Mamma's death when I was six years old. Daddy comes whenever he can, but he has asked for sea duty since Mamma left us. He has missed her so."
"In which class did your father graduate, Miss Peggy!"
"In 18—, Mrs. Harold."
"Why then he must have been in the Academy when Mr. Harold was there. He graduated two years later. I wonder if they knew each other. Mr. Harold would have been a youngster, and your father a first-classman, and first-classmen HAVE been known to notice youngsters."
Peggy looked puzzled. Although she had always lived within ten miles of the Academy, she had never entered its gates, and knew nothing of its ways or rules. Polly was wiser, having spent a month with her aunt. She laughed as she explained:
"A first-classman is a lordly being who is generally at odds with a second-classman, but inclined to protect a third-classman, or youngster, simply because the second-classman is inclined to make life a burden for him, just as he in turn is ready to torment the life out of a fourth- classman, or plebe. I am just beginning to understand it. It seemed perfectly ridiculous at first, but I guess some of those boys are the better for the running they get. I've only been here since the first of October, but I've learned a whole lot in four weeks. Maybe you will come over to see us some time and you will understand better then."
"I'd love to, I am sure. But may I offer you something more? No? Then perhaps we would better go down to the paddock."
They stepped from the piazza and walked through the beautifully kept garden. On either side late autumn flowers were blooming, the box hedges were a deep, waxen green, and gave forth a rich, aromatic odor. Polly cried:
"I just can't believe that you—you—why that you are the mistress of all this. I don't believe you can be one bit older than I am."
"I was fourteen last January," answered Peggy simply.
"And I fifteen last August," cried Polly with the frankness of her years.
"Then you are exactly five months older than I am, aren't you?" Peggy's smile was wonderfully winning.
"And when I look at all this and hear you talk I feel just about five YEARS YOUNGER," was Polly's frank reply. "Why I've never done a single thing in my life.''
"Not one?" asked Mrs. Harold, smiling significantly.
"Oh well, nothing like all THIS," protested Polly.
They had now reached a large inclosure. At the further end were a number of low buildings, evidently stables. Nearer at hand, outside the inclosure, were larger buildings—barns and offices. The inclosure was still soft and green in its carpeting of turf and patches of clover. Eight or ten horses were running at large, free and halterless. Further on was another inclosure in which several brood mares were grazing quietly or frisking about with, their colts. Some had come to the high paling to gaze inquiringly at the strangers.
"Oh, Tanta, Tanta, just look at them," cried Polly in a rapture. "And which is to be mine?"
"None of those spindle-legs yonder," was Peggy's amused answer. "They will be running at large for a long time yet. I don't even begin training them until they are a year old—at least not in anything but loving and obeying me. But most of them learn that very quickly. You must look in this paddock for Silver Star, Miss Polly. Shall I call him?"
"Will he really come?" asked Polly incredulously.
For answer Peggy slipped into the paddock, saying as she shot back the bolt:
"We used to have a much simpler fastening, but they learned how to undo it and make their escape. For that reason we are obliged to have these high fences. They have a strain of hunter blood and a six-foot barrier doesn't mean much to some of them."
How bonny the girl looked as she stood there. The horses which were in a little group near the buildings at the opposite end of the paddock, raised their heads inquiringly. The girl gave a long, clear whistle which was instantly answered by a chorus of loud neighs, as the group broke into a mad gallop and bore down upon her. It seemed to Mrs. Harold and Polly as though the on-rushing creatures must bear her down, but just when the speed was the maddest, when heads were tossing most wildly, and tails and manes waving like banners, Peggy cried:
"Halt! Steady, my beauties!" and as one the beautiful animals came to a standstill their hoofs stirring up a cloud of dust, so suddenly did they brace their forefeet. The next second they were crowding around her, nuzzling her hair, her shoulders, her hands, evidently begging in silent eloquence for some expected dainty.
Peggy carried a small linen bag. She opened it and instantly the air was filled with the soft, bubbling whinny with which a horse begs.
"Quiet, Meteor. Be patient, Don. Wait, Queen. Oh, Shashai, will you never learn manners?" she cried as her pet stretched his long neck and catching the little bag in his teeth snatched it from her hands, then, with all the delight of a child who has played a clever trick, away he dashed across the paddock.
"Shashai! Shashai, how dare you! Halt!" she called after him, but the graceful creature had no idea of halting.
For a moment Peggy looked at her guests very much as a baffled schoolmistress might look in the event of her pupil's open defiance, then cried:
"This will never, never do. If he disobeys me once I shall never be able to do anything with him again. Please excuse me a moment. I must catch him."
"Are you in the habit of chasing whirlwinds?" asked Mrs. Harold laughing.
"You must be able to run faster than most people," laughed Polly, but even as she spoke Peggy cried:
"Star! Star! Come." And out from the group slipped a superb chestnut. He came close to the girl, slipping his beautiful head across her shoulder and nestling against her face with the affection of a child. She clasped her arm up around the satiny neck and said softly:
"We must catch Shashai, Star," then turning like a flash, she rested one hand lightly upon his withers, gave a quick spring and sat astride the horse's back.
Polly gave a little cry and clasped her hands, her eyes sparkling with delight at this marvelous equestrian feat. Mrs. Harold was too amazed to speak.
"After him! Four bells, Star," cried Peggy, and away rushed the pair as though horse and rider were one creature, Peggy's divided cloth skirt, which up to that moment Mrs. Harold had not noticed, fluttering back to reveal the nattiest little patent leather riding boots imaginable. It was one of the prettiest pictures Mrs. Harold and Polly had ever beheld.
But that race was not to end so quickly. Shashai boasted the same blood as Silver Star, and was every bit as intelligent as his older brother. Moreover he had no mind to give up his treasure-trove. He knew that little bag and its contents too well and was minded to carry it to the end of the paddock and there rend and tear it, until its contents were spilled and he could eat his companions' share as well as his own. And that was exactly what Peggy did not propose to permit, either for his well-being or in justice to the other pets.
As the extraordinary game of tag ranged around the big paddock, Polly fairly danced up and down in excitement, crying:
"Tanta, Tanta, I didn't know any one COULD ride like that girl. Why it is more wonderful than a circus. And isn't she beautiful? Oh, I want to know her better. I am sure she must be a perfect dear. Why if I could ever ride half as well I'd be the proudest girl in the world."
"And how simply and unostentatiously she does everything. Polly, I suspect we shall be the richer for several things besides a handsome horse when we return to Wilmot."
Meanwhile Peggy was bearing down upon the thief and his plunder, though he darted and dodged like a cat, but in an unguarded moment he gave Star the advantage and was cornered.
"Shashai, halt! Steady. Down. My pardon."
Never was human speech more perfectly understood and obeyed. The game was up and the superb horse stopped, dropped upon his knees and touched the ground with his muzzle, the bag still held in his teeth.
"Up, Shashai," and the horse was again upon his feet.
Peggy reached over and taking hold of his flowing forelock led him back to the gate. Nothing could have been more demure than the manner in which he minced along beside her. At the gate Peggy slipped from Star's back as snow slips from a sunny bank, and stretching forth her hand said:
"Give it to me, Shashai."
The mischievous colt dropped the bag into her hand.
"Good boy," and a caress rewarded the reformed one.
Then Polly's enthusiasm broke forth.
How had she ever done it? Who had taught her to ride like that? Could she, Polly, ever hope to do so?
Peggy laughed gaily, and explained Shelby's methods as best she could, giving a little outline of her life on the estate which held a peculiar interest for Mrs. Harold, who read more between the lines than Peggy guessed, and who then and there resolved to know something more of this unusual girl to whose home they had been so curiously led. She had been thrown with young people all her life and loved them dearly, and here to her experienced eyes was a rare specimen of young girlhood and her heart warmed to her.
"I'd give anything to ride as you do," said Polly quite in despair of ever doing so.
"Why I can't remember when I haven't ridden. Shelby put me on a horse when Mammy Lucy declared I was too tiny to sit in a chair, and oh, how I love it and them. It is all so easy, so free—so—I don't quite know how to express it. But I must not take any more of your time talking about myself. Please excuse me for having talked so much. I wanted you to see Silver Star's paces but I did not plan to show them in just this way. But isn't he a dear? I don't know how I can let him go away from Severndale, but he as well as the others must. We sent Columbine only a few days ago. She has the sweetest disposition of any horse I have ever trained. It nearly broke my heart to send her off. They are all relatives. Shashai and Star are half-brothers. Shashai is my very own and I shall never sell him. Would you like to try Star, Miss Polly? I can get you a riding skirt. Shall you ride cross or side? He is trained for both."
"Not today, I think," answered Mrs. Harold for Polly. "We must make our arrangements for Star and then we will see about riding lessons. I wish you would undertake to teach Polly."
"Oh, would you really let me teach her?" cried Peggy enthusiastically.
"I think the obligation would be all on the other side," laughed Mrs.Harold. "It would be a privilege too great to claim."
"There would be no obligation whatever. I'd just love to," cried Peggy eagerly. "Why it would be perfectly lovely to have her come out here every day. Please walk back to the house and let us talk it over," Peggy's eyes were sparkling.
"Oh, Tanta, may I?"
"Slowly, Polly. My head is beginning to swim with so many ideas crowding into it," but Polly Howland knew from the tone that the day was as good as won.
As they walked back to the house the girls talked incessantly, Mrs. Harold listening intently but saying very little. She was drawing her own conclusions, which were usually pretty shrewd ones.
Commander Harold had for the past four years been stationed either at the Naval Academy, or on sea duty on board the Rhode Island when she made her famous cruise around the world. Mrs. Harold had remained at Wilmot Hall during the winter of 1907 and 1908, Polly's sister Constance spending it with her. Later Commander Harold had duty at the Academy, but recently with his new commission, for he had been a commander only a few months, he had been given one of the new cruisers and was at sea once more. They had no children, their only child having died many years before, but Mrs. Harold, loving young people as she did, was never without them near her. This winter her niece, Polly Howland, would remain with her and she was anxious to make the winter a happy one for the young girl. This she had a rare opportunity of doing, for her pretty sitting-room in Wilmot Hall was a gathering place for the young people of the entire neighborhood and the midshipmen in particular, who loved it dearly and were devoted to its mistress, loving her with the devotion of sons, and invariably calling her "the Little Mother," and her sitting-room "Middies' Haven." And a happier little rendezvous it would have been hard to find, for Mrs. Harold loved her big foster-sons dearly, strove in every way to make the place a home for them and to develop all that was best in their diverse characters.
It was to this home that Polly had come to pass the winter and now a new phase had developed, the outcome of what seemed to be chance, but it is to be questioned whether anything in this great world of ours is the outcome of chance. If so wisely ordered in some respects, why not in all?
So it is not surprising that Mrs. Harold watched and listened with rare sympathy and a keen intuition as the girls walked a little ahead of her, talking together as freely and frankly as though they had known each other for years instead of hours only.
"Couldn't you come out on the electric car every morning?" Peggy was asking. "If you could do that for about two weeks I am sure you would be able to ride BEAUTIFULLY at the end of them."
"Not in the morning, I'm afraid. You see I am an Annapolis co-ed," Polly answered laughing gaily at Peggy's mystified expression. "Yes I am, truly. You see I came down here to spend the winter with Aunt Janet because she is lonely when Uncle Glenn is away. But, of course, I can't just sit around and do nothing, or frolic all the time. Had I remained at home I should have been in my last year at high school, but Tanta doesn't want me to go to the one down here. Oh we've had the funniest discussions. First she thought she'd engage a governess for me, and we had almost settled on that when the funniest little thing changed it all. Isn't it queer how just a little thing will sometimes turn your plans all around?"
"What changed yours?" asked Peggy, more deeply interested in this new acquaintance and the new world she was introducing her into than she had ever been in anything in her life. "You'll laugh at me, I dare say, if I tell you, but I don't mind. Up at my own home in Montgentian, N. J., I had a boy chum. We have known each other since we were little tots and always played together. He is two years older than I am, but I was only a year behind him when he graduated from the high last spring. My goodness, how I worked to catch up, for I was ashamed to let him be so far ahead of me. I couldn't quite catch up, though, and he graduated a year ahead of me in spite of all I could do. Then he took a competitive examination for Annapolis and passed finely, entering the Academy last June. I was just tickled to death for we are just like brother and sister, we have been together so much. Then Tanta sent for me and I came back with her on September 30. One day we were over in the yard and the boys—men, I dare say I ought to call them, for some of them are tall as bean poles, only they have all been Aunt Janet's 'boys' ever since they entered the Academy—were teasing me, and telling me I couldn't work with Ralph any longer. I got mad then and said I guessed I COULD work with him if I saw fit, and I meant to, too. Oh, they laughed and jeered at me until I could have slapped every single one of them, but I then and there made up my mind to follow THIS year's academic course if I died in the attempt, and when we went home I talked it all over with Aunt Janet. She's such a dear, and always ready to listen to anything we young people have to tell her. So I really am a co-ed. Yes, I am; I knew you'd smile. I have an instructor, a retired captain, a friend of Aunt Janet's, who lives at Wilmot, and Aunt Janet has rented an extra room next mine for a schoolroom, and every morning at nine o'clock Captain Pennell and I settle down to real hard work. I have 'math' and mechanical drawing just exactly as Ralph has, and the same French, Spanish and English course, but what I love best of all is learning all about a boat and how to sail her, how to swim, and the gym work. And Captain Pennell is teaching me how to fence and to shoot with a rifle and a revolver. Oh, it is just heaps and heaps of fun. I didn't dream a girl could learn all those things, but Captain Pennell is such a dear and so interesting. He seems to have something new for each day. But HOW Aunt Janet's boys do run me and ask me when I'm coming out for cutter drill, or field artillery or any old thing they know I CAN'T do. But never mind. I know just exactly what all their old orders mean, and I am learning all about our splendid big ships and the guns and everything just as fast as ever I can. But, my goodness, I shall talk you to death. Mother says I never know when to stop once I get started. I beg your pardon," and Polly looked quite abashed as they drew near the piazza.
"Why I think it is all perfectly fascinating. How I'd love to do some of those things. I can shoot and swim and sail my boat, but I've never been in a gymnasium or done any of those interesting things. I wish Compadre could hear all about it. They wanted to send me away to a big finishing school this winter but I begged so hard for one more year's freedom that Daddy Neil consented, but I think he would love to have me know about the things you are learning."
"Oh, Tanta, couldn't we make some sort of a bargain? Couldn't Peggy come to us three days of the week and work with Captain Pennell and me, and then I come out three to learn to ride?"
Peggy's eyes shone as she listened. She had not realized how hungry she had been for young companionship until this sunny-souled young girl had dropped into her little world.
Mrs. Harold smiled sympathetically upon the enthusiastic pair.
"Perhaps we can make a mutually beneficial bargain," she said. "I think I shall accept Silver Star upon your recommendation, Miss Peggy, and what I have already seen. Then if you are willing to undertake it, Polly shall be taught to ride by you, and you in turn must come to us at Wilmot to join Captain Pennell's class of fencing, gym work or whatever else seems wise or you wish to. But who must decide the question, dear?"
How unconsciously she had dropped into the term of endearment with this young girl. It was so much a part of her nature to do so. Peggy's cheeks became rose-tinted with pleasure, and her eyes alight with happiness. Her smile was radiant as she slipped to Mrs. Harold's side saying: "Oh, if Compadre were only here to decide it right away. He is my guardian you know, and, of course, I must do as he wishes, but I hope—oh I HOPE, he will let me do this."
"And what is it you so wish to do, Filiola?" asked a gentle voice within the room.
Peggy gave a little cry of delight.
"Oh, Compadre, when did you come? We have just been talking about you," cried Peggy, flitting to the side of the tall, handsome old gentleman and slipping her arm about him as his encircled her shoulder, and he looked down upon her with a pair of benign dark eyes as he answered:
"I have been luxuriating and feasting for the past half hour while waiting for a truant ward. Jerome took pity upon me and fed me to keep me in a good temper.
"Oh, Compadre, I want you to know my new friend, Mrs. Harold and her niece, Polly Howland. We have been having the loveliest visit together."
Dr. Llewellyn advanced to meet the guests, one arm still encircling his ward, the other extended to take Mrs. Harold's hand as he said:
"This is a great pleasure, madam. To judge by my little girl's face she has found a congenial companion. I am more than delighted to meet both aunt and niece."
"And we are ALMOST the same age! Isn't that lovely!" cried Polly.
Dr. Llewellyn exchanged a significant glance with Mrs. Harold, then asked:
"Have you imparted your peculiar power to your niece, Mrs. Harold?"
Mrs. Harold looked mystified. "I am afraid I don't quite understand," she smiled.
"Your chaplain at the Academy is an old friend of mine. We occasionally hobnob over the chess board and a modest glass of wine. I hear of things beyond Round Bay and Severndale; I am interested in that gathering of young men in the Academy and often ask questions. The chaplain is deeply concerned for their welfare and has told me many things, among others something of a certain lady to whom they are devoted and who has a remarkable influence over them. It has interested me, too, for they are at the most impressionable, susceptible period of their lives and a wise influence can do much for them. I am glad to meet 'The Little Mother of Middies' Haven.'"
Dr. Llewellyn's eyes twinkled as he spoke. Mrs. Harold blushed like a girl as she asked:
"Have my sins found me out?"
"It is a pity we could not find all 'sins' as salutary. I may be a retired old clergyman, with no greater responsibilities upon my shoulders than keeping one unruly little girl within bounds," he added, giving a tweak to Peggy's curls, "and looking after her father's estate— I tutored HIM when he was a lad—but I hear echoes of the doings of the outer world now and again. Yes—yes, now and again, and when they are cheering echoes I rejoice greatly. But let us be seated and hear the wonderful news which will cause an explosion presently unless the safety-valves are opened," he concluded, placing chairs for Mrs. Harold and Polly with courtly grace.
They talked for an hour and at its end Dr. Llewellyn and Mrs. Harold had settled upon a plan which caused Peggy and Polly to nearly prance for joy.
Mrs. Harold was to talk it over with Captain Pennell and phone out to Severndale the next morning, and if all went well, Peggy would go to Annapolis to take up certain branches of the work with Polly, and in the intervening mornings continue her work with Dr. Llewellyn, and Polly in return would spend three afternoons with her.
Star was hired then and there for the winter, but would live at Severndale until Polly's horse-WOMAN-ship was a little more to be relied upon.
Before Mrs. Harold and Polly realized where the afternoon had gone it was time to return to Annapolis. They were driven to the station by Jess, Peggy and Dr. Llewellyn riding beside the carriage on Shashai and Dr. Claudius, Dr. Llewellyn's big dapple-gray hunter, for the old clergyman was an aristocrat to his fingertips and lived the life of his Maryland forebears, at seventy sitting his horse as he had done in early manhood, and even occasionally following the hounds. It was a pretty sight to see him and Peggy ride, his great horse making its powerful strides, while Shashai flitted along like a swallow, full of all manner of little conceits and pranks though absolutely obedient to Peggy's low- spoken words, or knee-pressure, for the bridle rein was a quite superfluous adjunct to her riding gear, and she would have ridden without a saddle but for conventionalities.
They bade their guests good-bye at the little station, and rode slowly back to Severndale in the golden glow of the late afternoon, Peggy talking incessantly and the good doctor occasionally asking a question or telling her something of the world over in the Academy of which she knew so little, but of which fate seemed to have ordained she should soon know much more.
There was a quiet little talk up in Middies' Haven that evening, and Captain Pennell learned from Mrs. Harold of the little girl up at Round Bay. He was not only willing to accept Peggy as a second pupil, but delighted to welcome the addition to his "Co-ed Institution" as he called it. He had grown very fond of his pupil in the brief time she had worked with him, but felt sure that a little competition would lend zest to the work. He was deeply interested in the novel plan and wished his pupil to give her old chum and schoolmate a lively contest. Moreover, he was a lonely man whom ill-health and sorrow had left little to expect from life. His wife and only daughter had died in Guam soon after the end of the Spanish war, in which he had received the wound which had incapacitated him for service and forced him to retire in what should have been the prime of life. Since that hour he had lived only to kill time; the deadliest fate to which a human being can be condemned. Until Polly entered his lonely world it would have been hard to picture a duller life than he led, but her sunshiny soul seemed to have reflected some of its light upon him, and he was happier than he had been in years.
It is safe to say that the description of Peggy, her home, her horses and all pertaining to her, lost nothing in Polly's telling and it was agreed that she should become a special course co-ed upon the following Monday.
And out at Severndale an equally eager, enthusiastic little body was awaiting the ringing of the telephone bell, and when at nine o'clock Sunday morning its cheerful jingling summoned Peggy from her breakfast table, she was as happy as she well could be and promised faithfully to be at Wilmot at nine o'clock the following morning.
And so began a friendship destined to last as long as the girls lived, and the glorious autumn days were filled with delights for them both. To Peggy it was a wonderful world.
The Tuesday following Polly went to Severndale and her first riding lesson began, with more or less quaking upon her part, it must be confessed. She felt tremendously high up in the air when she first found herself upon Silver Star's back. But he behaved like a gentleman, seeming to realize that the usual order of things was being reversed and that he was teaching instead of being taught. So, in spite of Shashai's wicked hints for a prank, he conducted himself in a manner most exemplary and Polly went back to Wilmot Hall as enthusiastic as she well could be.
Mrs. Harold had invited Peggy to spend the week-end at Wilmot. She wished her to meet some of Polly's friends and she, herself, wished to know the young girl better. So Dr. Llewellyn's permission was asked and promptly granted, and with his consent won that of Harrison and Mammy Lucy was a mere form. Nevertheless, Peggy was too wise to overlook asking, for Harrison fancied herself the embodiment of the law, and Mammy Lucy, in her own estimation at least, stood for the dignity of the Stewart family. And the preparations for the little week-end visit were undertaken with a degree of ceremony which might have warranted a trip to Europe. Peggy's suitcase was packed by Mammy's own hands, Harrison hovering near to make sure that nothing was overlooked, to Mammy's secret disgust, for she felt herself fully capable of attending to it.
Then came the question of going in, Peggy very naturally expecting to go by the electric car as she had during the week. But NO! Such an undignified entrance into Wilmot was not to be thought of. She must be driven in by Jess.
"But Mammy, how ridiculous," protested Peggy. "I can get a boy at the station to carry my suitcase to the hotel."
Mammy looked at her in disdain.
"Git one ob dem no 'count dirty little nigger boys what hangs round dat railway station to tote yo' shute case, a-tailin' long behime yo' for all de worl lak a tromp. What yo' 'spose yo' pa would say to we-all if we let yo' go a-visitin' in amy sich style as dat, an' yo' a Stewart AN' de daughter ob a naval officer who's gwine visit de wife ob one ob his 'Cademy frien's! Chile, yo's cl'ar crazy. Yo' go in de proper style lemme tell yo', or yo' aim gwine go 'tall. Yo' hear ME?"
And Peggy had to meekly submit, realizing that there were SOME laws which even a Stewart might not violate. So on Saturday afternoon Comet and Meteor tooled the surrey along by beautiful woodland and field, Peggy clad in her pretty autumn suit and hat, her suitcase at Jess' feet, and herself as properly dignified as the occasion demanded, while in her secret heart she resolved to enlist Mrs. Harold upon her side and in future make her visits with less ceremony.
Peggy had entered a new world. Plunged into one, would perhaps better express it, so sudden had been her entrance, and her letters to Daddy Neil, now on his way to Guantanamo for the fall drills, were full of an enthusiasm which almost bewildered him and started a new train of thought.
As he knew most members of the personnel of the ships comprising the Atlantic fleet, he, of course, knew Commander Harold, though it had never occurred to him to associate him with Annapolis, or to make any inquiry regarding his home or his connections. Like many another, he was merely a fellow-officer. He was not a classmate, so his interest was less keen than it would have been had such been the case. Moreover, Harold was in a different division of the fleet and they very rarely met. But now the whole situation was changed by Peggy's letter. He would hunt up Mr. Harold at the first opportunity and with this common interest to bind them, much pleasure was in store.
True to her word, Peggy sent her letter off every Sunday afternoon—a conscientious report of the week's happenings. Her "log," she called it, and it was the comfort of Daddy Neil's life.
Meanwhile, she spent about half of her time with Mrs. Harold and Polly, and in a very short time became as good a chum of Mrs. Harold's "boys," the midshipmen, as was Polly. There was always something doing over at the Academy, and as Mrs. Harold's guest, Peggy was naturally included. At present football practice was absorbing the interest of the Academic world and its friends, for in a few weeks the big Army-Navy game would take place up in Philadelphia and Mrs. Harold had already invited Peggy to go to it with her party. Peggy had never even seen a practice game until taken over to the Naval Academy field with her friends, where the boys teased her unmercifully because she asked why they didn't "have a decently shaped ROUND ball instead of a leather watermelon which wouldn't do a thing but flop every which way, and call it tussle-ball instead of football?"
There was a little circle which gathered about Mrs. Harold, and which was always alluded to as "her big children." These were men from the different classes in the Academy, for there were no "class rates" in "Middies' Haven," as they called her sitting-room. Peggy met them all, though, naturally, there were some she liked better than others. Among the upper-classmen who would graduate in the spring were three who were at Middies' Haven whenever there was the slightest excuse for being there. These boys who seemed quite grown-up men to fourteen-year-old Peggy, though she soon lost her shyness with them, and learned that they could frolic as well as the younger ones, went by the names of Happy, Wheedles and Shortie, the latter so nicknamed because he was six feet, four inches tall, though the others' nicknames had been bestowed because they really fitted. There were also two or three second-classmen and youngsters who frequently visited Mrs. Harold, one in particular, who fascinated every one with whom he came in touch. His name was Durand Leroux, and, strange to state, he looked enough like Peggy to be her own brother, yet try as they would, no vestige of a relationship could be traced, for Peggy came of purely Southern stock while Durand claimed New England for his birthplace. Nevertheless, it became a good joke and they were often spoken of as the twins, though Durand was three years Peggy's senior.
Polly's chum, Ralph Wilbur, was about the same age as Durand, though in the lowest or fourth class, having just entered the Academy, and consequently was counted as very small fry indeed. He was a quiet, undemonstrative chap but Peggy liked him from the moment she met him. He had mastered one important bit of knowledge: That a "plebe" does well to lie low, and as the result of mastering that salient fact he was well liked by the upper-classmen and found them ready to do him a good many friendly turns which a more "raty" fourth-classman would not have found coming his way.
Altogether, Peggy found herself a member of a very delightful little circle and was happier than she had ever been in her life. In Mrs. Harold she found the love she had missed without understanding it, and in Polly a companion who filled her days with delight.
And what busy days they were. So full of plans, duties and pleasures, for Mrs. Harold had been very quick to understand the barrenness of Peggy's life in spite of her rich supply of this world's goods, and she promptly set about rounding it out as it should have been.
And so November with its wonderful Indian Summer slipped on, and it was during one of these ideal days that an absurd episode took place upon the well-conducted estate of Severndale, which caused Peggy to be run most unmercifully by the boys. But before we can tell of it a few words of explanation are needed.
As can be readily understood, in a large institution like the Naval Academy, where the boys foregather from every state in the Union, there are all classes and all types represented.
Among them are splendid, fine principled fellows, with high moral standards and unimpeachable characters. And there are, alas, those of another type also, and these are the ones who invariably make trouble for others and are pretty sure to disgrace themselves. Fortunately, this type rarely survives the four years' crucial test of character, efficiency and aptitude, but is pretty sure to "pack its little grip and fade away," as the more eligible ones express it, long before it comes time to receive a diploma.
Unhappily, there was one man in the present first class who had managed to remain in the Academy in spite of conduct which would have "bilged" (Academy slang for the man who has to drop out) a dozen others, and who was the source of endless trouble for under-classmen over whom he contrived to exert a wholly malign influence. He seemed to be not only utterly devoid of principle and finer feeling, but to take a perfectly fiendish delight in corrupting the younger boys. His one idea of being "a man" seemed to lie in the infringement of every regulation of the Academy, and to induce others to do likewise. He had caused the president of his class endless trouble and mortification, and distressed Mrs. Harold beyond measure, for her interest in all in the Academy was very keen, and especially in the younger boys, whom she knew to be at the most susceptible period of their lives.
Had his folly been confined to mere boyish nonsense it might have been overlooked, but it had gone on from folly to vicious conduct and his boast was that it was his duty to harden the plebes, his idea of hardening them being to get them intoxicated.
Now if there is one infringement of rules more sure to bring retribution upon the perpetrator than any other, it is intoxication, and the guilty one is most summarily dealt with. This was fully known to Blue, the delinquent referred to, but he had by some miraculous method thus far managed to escape conviction if not suspicion, though more than one unfortunate under-classman had been forced to tender his resignation as the result of going the pace with Blue.
So serious had the situation become that the president of the first class had quietly set about a little plan in cooperation with other members of his class which would be pretty sure to rid the Academy of its undesirable acquisition. It was only a question of giving Blue enough time to work his own undoing, and as things had begun to shape, this seemed pretty sure to take place. Naturally, with feeling running so strong, Peggy heard a good deal of it when she visited Middies' Haven, especially since Durand Leroux, whom she had grown to like so well, seemed to have been selected by Blue as his newest victim, greatly to Mrs. Harold's distress, for she knew Durand to be far too easily led, and too generous and unsuspicious to believe evil of any one. Happy-go- lucky, carefree and ever ready for any frolic, he was exactly the type to fall a victim to Blue's insidious influence, for Blue could be fascinating to a degree when it served his turn. Blue was debarred the privilege of visiting Middies' Haven, and his resentment of this prompted him to try to wreak his vengeance upon Mrs. Harold's boys. To their credit be it told that he had hitherto failed, but she had misgivings of Durand; he was too mercurial.
Now Peggy had, as chatelaine of Severndale, been more than once obliged to order the dismissal of some of the temporary hands employed about the paddock, for Shelby was rigid upon the rule of temperance. He would have no bibblers near the animals under his charge. He had seen too much trouble caused by such worthless employees. Consequently, Peggy was wise beyond her years to the gravity of intemperance and had expressed herself pretty emphatically when Blue was discussed within the privacy of Middies' Haven, for what was told there was sacred. That was an unwritten law. And all this led to a ridiculous situation one day in the middle of November, for comedy and tragedy usually travel side by side in this world.
It fell upon an ideal Saturday afternoon, a half-holiday at the Academy. It also happened to be Wheedles' birthday, and Mrs. Harold never let a birthday pass without some sort of a celebration if it were possible to have one. She had told Peggy about it, and Peggy had promptly invited a little party up to Round Bay.
Now visiting for the midshipmen beyond the confines of the town of Annapolis is forbidden, but Mrs. Harold, as the wife of an officer, was at liberty to take out a party of friends in one of the Academy launches, so she promptly got together a congenial dozen, Ralph, Happy, Shortie, Wheedles and Durand, Captain Pennell and four others besides Polly and herself, and in the crispness of the Indian Summer afternoon, steamed away up the Severn to Round Bay.
Peggy had asked the privilege of providing the birthday feast and understanding the pleasure it would give her to do so, Mrs. Harold had agreed most readily. So immediately after luncheon formation the party embarked at the foot of Maryland Avenue and a gayer one it would have been hard to find.
Knowing the average boy's appetite and the midshipman's in particular, Mrs. Harold had, with commendable forethought, brought with her a big box of crullers, in nowise disturbed by the thought that it might spoil their appetites for the delayed luncheon. Breakfast is served at seven A.M. in Bancroft Hall, and the interval between that and twelve-thirty luncheon is long enough at best. If you add to that another hour and a half it is safe to conclude that starvation will be imminent. Hence her box of crullers to avoid such a calamity.
The launch puffed and chugged its way up the river, running alongside the pretty Severndale dock sharp to the minute of four bells. Peggy stood ready to welcome them.
"Oh, isn't this lovely. Scramble ashore as fast as you can, for Aunt Cynthia is crazy lest her fried chicken 'frazzle ter a cinder,'" she cried as she greeted her guests.
"Who said fried chicken?" cried Happy.
"That last cruller you warned me against eating never fazed me a bit, Little Mother," asserted Wheedles, as he assisted Mrs. Harold up the stone steps leading from the dock.
"Beat you in a race to the lawn, Polly," shouted Ralph, back in boyhood's world now that he was beyond the bounds of Bancroft, and the next moment he and Polly were racing across the lawn like a pair of children, for it seemed so good to be away for a time from the unrelaxing discipline of the Academy, and Polly realized this as well as the others.
"We are to have luncheon out under the oaks," said Peggy. "It is too heavenly a day to be indoors. Jerome and Mammy have everything ready so we have nothing to do but eat. You won't mind picnicking will you, Mrs. Harold."
"Mind!" echoed Mrs. Harold. "Why it is simply ideal, Peggy dear. What do you say, sons?" she asked turning to the others.
"Say! Say! Let's give the Four-N Yell right off for Peggy Stewart, Chatelaine of Severndale!" cried Wheedles, and out upon the clear, crisp autumn air rang the good old Navy cheer:
"N—n—n—n!A—a—a—a!V—v—v—v!Y—y—y—y!
Navy!
Peggy Stewart! Peggy Stewart!Peggy Stewart!"
Peggy's cheeks glowed and her eyes shone. It was something to win that cheer from these lads, boys at heart, though just at manhood's morning, and sworn to the service of their flag. How she wished Daddy Neil could hear it. Captain Pennell, into whose life during the past month had come some incentive to live, joined in the yell with a will, giving his cap a toss into the air when the echoes of it went floating out over the Severn, while Mrs. Harold and Polly waved their sweaters wildly, and yelled with all their strength.
Never had Severndale been more beautiful than upon that November afternoon. October's rich coloring had given place to the dull reds, burnt-umbers, and rich wood browns of late autumn, though the grass was still green underfoot, and the holly and fir trees greener by contrast.
And Peggy was in her element.
Never in all her short life had she been so happy. All the instincts of her Stewart ancestors with their Southern hospitality was finding expression as she led the way to a grove of mighty oaks, tinged by night frosts to the richest maroon, and literally kings of their surroundings, for the deep umber tones of the beeches only served to emphasize their coloring. Beneath them was spread a long table fairly groaning with suggestions of the feast to come, and near it, flanked by Jerome and Mammy, stood Dr. Llewellyn.
As the party came laughing, scrambling or walking toward it he advanced to welcome Mrs. Harold, saying:
"Did you realize that there would be thirteen at the feast unless a fourteenth could be pressed into service? Consider me as merely a necessary adjunct, please, and don't let the young people regard me as a kill-joy because I wear a long coat buttoned straight up to my chin. The only difference really is that I have to keep mine buttoned whereas they have to HOOK THEIR collars," and the good doctor laughed. Introductions followed and then no time was lost in seating the luncheon party.
Then came a moment's pause. Peggy understood and Mrs. Harold's intuition served her. She nodded to Dr. Llewellyn, and none there ever forgot the light which illumined the fine old face as he bowed his head and said softly in his beautifully modulated voice as though speaking to a loved companion.
"Father, for a world so beautiful, for a day so perfect, for the joy and privilege of association with these young people, and the new life which they infuse into ours, we older ones thank Thee. Bring into their lives all that is finest, truest, purest and best—true manhood and womanhood. Amen."
Not a boy or girl but felt the beauty of those simple words and remembered them for many a day.
The grove was not far enough from the house to chance the ruin of any of Aunt Cynthia's dainties. A grassy path led straight to it from her kitchen and at the conclusion of Dr. Llewellyn's grace Peggy nodded slightly to Jerome who in turn nodded to Mammy Lucy, who passed the nod along to some invisible individual, the series of nods bringing about a result which nearly wrecked the dignity of the entire party, for out from behind the long brick building in which Aunt Cynthia ruled supreme, filed a row of little darkies each burdened with a dish, each bare- footed, each immaculate in little white shirt and trousers, each solemnly rolling eyes, the whites of which rivaled his shirt, and each under Cynthia's dire threat of having his "haid busted wide open if he done tripped or spilled a thing," walking as though treading upon eggs.
Along they came, their eyes fixed upon Jerome, for literally they were "between the devil and the deep sea," Jerome and Cynthia being at the beginning and end of that path. Jerome and Mammy received and placed each steaming dish, the very personification of dignity, and in nowise disconcerted by the titter, which soon broke into a full-lunged shout, at the piccaninnies' solemn faces.
It was all too much for good Captain Pennell and the boys, and any "ice" which might possibly have congealed the party, was then and there smashed to smithereens.
"Great! Great!" shouted Captain Pennell, clapping his hands like a boy.
"Eh, this is going some," cried Happy.
"Bully for Chatelaine Peggy!" was Wheedles' outburst.
"Who says Severndale isn't all right?" echoed Ralph.
"Peggy, this is simply delicious," praised Mrs. Harold.
Peggy glowed and Jerome and Mammy beamed, while the little darkies beat a grinning retreat to confide excitedly to Aunt Cynthia:
"Dem gemmens an' ladies yonder in de grove was so mighty pleased dat dey jist nachally bleiged fer ter holler and laugh."
Far from proving drawbacks to the feast the captain and the doctor entered heart and soul into the frolic, the doctor as host, slyly nodding to the ever alert Jerome or Mammy to replenish plates, the captain waxing reminiscent and telling many an amusing tale, and Mrs. Harold beaming happily upon all, while to and from Cynthia's realm ran the little darkies full of enthusiasm for "dem midshipmen mens who suah could eat fried chicken, corn fritters, glazed sweet 'taters, and waffles nuff fer ter bust most mens."
Certainly, Aunt Cynthia knew her business and if ever a picnic feast was appreciated, that one was.
But the climax came with the dessert.
The merrymaking was at its height. The festive board had been cleared for dessert.
"Cleared for action," Captain Pennell said.
"Not heavy fire I hope," sighed Shortie. "Peggy, will you excuse me, butI have surely got to let out a reef if anything more is coming," andShortie let out a hole or two in the leather belt which encircled theregion into which innumerable waffles had disappeared.
"There are others; yes there are CERTAINLY others," laughed the captain. "Peggy, my child, to play Circe and still smile is absolutely cruel. The ancient Circe frowned upon her victims."
"And how can I swallow another morsel," was Polly's wail. "Peggy Stewart, why will you have so many good things all at once? Couldn't you have spread it out over several meals and let us have it on the instalment plan?"
"Wheedles couldn't have his birthday that way," laughed Peggy, unwittingly letting a cat escape from a bag, for woe upon the midshipman whose birthday is known. Thus far Wheedles had kept it a profound secret, and Mrs. Harold and Polly, who were wise to what was likely to happen to him if it were known, had kept mum. But, alack, they had forgotten to warn Peggy and her words touched off the mine.
"Eh? What? Never! Something doing? You're a sly one. Thought you'd get off scot-free, did you? Not on your sweet life! Let's give him what for. Excuse this digression, Peggy; it's a ceremony never omitted. It would have been attended to earlier in the day had we suspected, and it can't be delayed any longer. Besides we MUST shake down that which has gone before if more is to follow. Beg pardon, Little Mother, but you know the traditions. Make our peace with Dr. Llewellyn for this little side- show," and the next second Wheedles was in full flight with all his chums hotfoot upon his trail.
How in the world those boys could run as they did after such a feast without apoplexy following, must remain a mystery to all excepting those who have lived in their midst.
Over the lawn, dodging behind the oaks, vaulting the fence into the adjoining field, to the consternation of half a dozen sleek, sedate Alderney cows, tore Wheedles, his pursuers determined to overhand him and administer the drubbing incident to the iniquity of having a birthday.
Dr. Llewellyn and Captain Pennell rose to their feet, one shouting, the other yelling with the rest of the mob, while Mrs. Harold and the girls could only sit and laugh helplessly.
It was Shortie's long legs which overtook the quarry, both coming to the ground with a crash which would have killed outright any one but a football tackle and a basket-ball captain. In a second the whole bunch had the laughing, helpless victim.
"Look the other way please, people," called Shortie, promptly placing Wheedles across his knee—two men holding his arms, two more his kicking legs—while Shortie properly and deliberately administered twenty sounding spanks. Then releasing him he said to the others who were nothing loath:
"Finish the job. I've done my part and I've had one corking big feed."
And they finished it by holding poor Wheedles by his shoulders and feet and bumping him upon the grass until he must have seen stars—AND THE DINNER WAS WELL SHAKEN DOWN.
"NOW will you try to get away from us?" they demanded, putting him upon his feet.
"It's all over but the shouting, Little Mother, and we'll be good," they laughed as they trooped back to the table, settling blouses, and giving hasty pats to their dishevelled pates, for Wheedles had certainly given them a run for their money.
Meanwhile, Jerome and Mammy had looked on half in consternation, half in glee, for where is your pure-blooded African, old or young, who doesn't sympathize with monkey-shines? As the administrators of justice were in the midst of their self-imposed duties, the half-dozen little darky servitors appeared around the corner of the house bearing the dessert, and there is no telling what might have happened to it had not Aunt Cynthia, hearing the uproar, and "cravin' fer ter know ef de rown' worl' was a-comin' to an end," followed close behind her satellites. That great mold of ice cream, mound of golden wine jelly, dishes of cakes galore would certainly have met total destruction but for her prompt and emphatic command:
"Yo' chillern 'tend to yo' bisness an' nemmine what gwine on over yander." That saved the feast, for the little darkies were convinced that "one ob dose young mens liked ter be kill fer suah."
Had it been mid-July instead of a Maryland November that ice cream could not have vanished more quickly, and in the process of its disappearance, Jerome vanished also. This was not noticed by Peggy's guests, but his return was hailed with first a spontaneous shout and then a:
"Rah! Rah! Hoohrah! Hoohrah! Navy Hoohrah!" and "Oh that's some cake!" "Nothing the matter with THAT edifice." "Who said we couldn't eat any more?" For with the dignity of a majordomo Jerome bore upon its frilled paper doily a huge chocolate layer cake, ornately decorated with yellow icing, and twenty dark blue candles, their yellow flames barely flickering in the still air, while behind him walked his little trenchermen, one bearing a big glass pitcher of amber cider, another, dishes of nuts, and another a tray of Mammy Lucy's home-made candies.
If ever a birthday cake was enjoyed and appreciated, certainly that one was, and there is no telling how long the merry party would have lingered over the nuts, candies and cider had not a startling interruption taken place.
The afternoon was well advanced. Mrs. Harold, the captain and Dr. Llewellyn had reached the limit of their appetites and were now watching and listening to the merry chatter of the young people who sat sipping the cider—they had long since passed beyond the DRINKING point—and eating the black walnuts and hickory nuts which had been gathered upon the estate, for Severndale was famous for its cider and nuts. The cider was made from a brand of apples which had been grown in the days of Peggy's great-grandfather and carefully cultivated for years. They ripened late, and needed a touch of frost to perfect them. The ciderhouse and press stood just beyond the meadow in which the Severndale cows led a luxurious life of it, and the odor of the rich fruit invariably drew a line of them to the dividing fence, where they sniffed and peered longingly at "forbidden fruit." But if every dog, as we are told, has his day, certainly a cow may hope to have hers some time. That it should have happened to be Wheedles' day also was merely accidental.
As in most respectable communities there is almost invariably an individual or two whose conduct is open to criticism, so in Severndale's eminently irreproachable herd of sleek kine there was one obstreperous creature and her offspring. They were possessed to do the things their more well conducted sisters never thought of doing. The cow had a strain of distinctly plebian blood which, transmitted to her calf, probably accounted for their eccentricities. If ever a fence was broken through, if ever a brimming pail of milk was overturned, if a stable towel was chewed to ribbons, a feed bin rifled, it could invariably be traced to Betsy Brindle and her incorrigible daughter Sally Simple, and this afternoon they surpassed themselves. As Peggy's guests sat in that blissful state of mind and body resulting from being "serenely full, the epicure would say," they were startled by an altogether rowdy, abandoned "Moo-oo-oo-oo," echoed in a higher key, and over the lawn came two as disreputable-looking animals as one could picture, for Betsy Brindle and her daughter, a pretty little year-old heifer, were unquestionably, undeniably, hopelessly intoxicated. Betsy was swaying and staggering from side to side, wagging her head foolishly and mooing in the most maudlin manner, while Sally, whose potations affected her quite differently, was cavorting madly thither and yonder, one moment almost standing upon her head, with hind legs and tail waving wildly in mid- air, the next with the order reversed and pawing frantically at the clouds.
Behind the arrant ones in mad chase and consternation came the young negro lad whose duty it was to see that the cattle were properly housed at nightfall. He had gone to the meadow for his charges only to find these incorrigibles, as upon many another occasion, missing. How long they had been at large he could not guess. At last, after long search, he discovered them in the inclosure where the barreled apples were kept and two whole barrels rifled. When this had taken place his African mind did not analyze, though a scientist could have told him almost to an hour and explained also that in the cows' double stomachs the apples had promptly fermented and become highly intoxicating, with the present result. But poor Cicero was petrified. His young mistress entertaining "de quality" and his unruly charges scandalizing her by tearing into their very midst.