"Over all the mountains is peace;Among the tree-topsHardly a breath is stirring;The birds are silent,Silent in the woodland;Only wait! only wait!Soon thou too shalt rest."
"Harry Monmouth!" murmured the Colonel under his breath. "Am I alive, or is this the gate of Heaven?"
"Oh! who is it?" whispered Margaret.
"Tintinnabula! rather a neat thing in voices, the Tintinnabula's. Nor does the song altogether excite to strenutation. Ah! but that is the best yet!"
The notes changed. It was Schubert's Serenade now that rose from voice and violin together. No one stirred. The canoes were now close inshore, and the long, soft fingers of fir and cedar brushed Margaret's cheek as she sat motionless, spellbound. It was a world of soft darkness, black upon black: the silver world they had just left seemed almost garish as she looked back on it. Here in the cool shadow, the voices of the night pouringforth their wonderful melody—"Oh!" she thought; "if this might last forever!"
But it was over. Floating round a great rock that stretched far out from the shore, they came upon the musicians, their canoe drawn up close to the rock.
"Here they are!" cried Willy. "It's Bell and Jack, Kitty; I knew it was. You are such a silly!"
"I don't care!" pouted Kitty. "It did sound like nymphs; I am sure that is just the way they sound."
"You are quite right, Kitty," said her mother. "Children, you have given us a great treat. May we not have some more?"
"Oh, we were only waiting for you," said Bell; "now we must have choruses, many of them!"
And lying close together, the paddles stretched across from one canoe to another, the Merryweathers sang, to Jack's accompaniment,song after song in chorus: German student songs, with merry refrain of "vivallera la" and "juch heira sa sa!" Scottish ballads and quaint old Highland boat-songs; till Mr. Merryweather declared that it was time to go home.
So home they went, down the moonglade once more, across the glimmering floor of the lake, singing as they went; till, twinkling through the fringe of trees, they saw the lights of the Camp, and the long outline of the float, and the boats swinging at their moorings.
"Andwhat comes next on the programme?" asked the Chief.
"Coma, I should say," replied Colonel Ferrers. "After that watermelon, I see nothing else for it. It's my avowed belief that my nephew there could not stir if his life depended on it; it stands to reason. The boy has eaten more than his own weight. Monstrous!"
"What a frightful calumny!" cried Jack, laughing. "Really, Uncle Tom, you cannot expect me to sit still under that."
He rose lightly to his feet, and grasping a branch of the tree above his head, drew himself up, and after kicking his long legs several times in the air, finally twisted them roundthe branch, and in another moment had disappeared in the shadowy depths of the great hemlock.
"Oh! I say!" his voice floated down. "This is a great tree to climb. You'd better come up, Uncle Tom, if you feel the slightest symptoms of coma."
The other lads did not wait to be invited, but flung themselves at the tree, and were soon lost to sight, though not to sound. Colonel Ferrers turned to his hostess with a frown which tried hard not to turn into a smile.
"Now, did you ever hear of such impudence as that?" he asked. "These young fellows of to-day are the most impudent scoundrels I ever came across. Time was, though, when we could have climbed a tree with the best of them; eh, Merryweather?"
"I have no doubt you could now, Colonel," said his host, "if you were put to it; but I confess it is more comfortable under a treethan in it, nowadays, especially after a Gargantuan feast like this."
It had indeed been a great picnic. The boys, while on a tramp, had discovered a grove of pines and hemlocks, huge old trees, which had unaccountably escaped the woodman's axe. The pines shot up straight and tall for a hundred feet and more, their trunks seamed and scarred, their clouds of dusky green plumes tossing far overhead; the hemlocks were no less massive in girth, but they were twisted into all manner of grotesque shapes, and their feathery branches hung low, making a dense canopy over the heads of the picnickers. Here, under one of these hemlocks, the cloth had been laid, and decorated with ferns and hemlock tassels. Then the baskets were unpacked, and the campers feasted as only dwellers in the open air can feast. Ham and pasty, sandwiches and rolls, jam and doughnuts—nothing seemed to come amiss; and they finished off with awatermelon of such mighty proportions that it took all the united energies of the boys to dispose of it.
But it was finally disposed of, and now came the hour that is apt to be a little difficult at picnics; the hour between the feast and the going home.
"I have a new game," said Mrs. Merryweather. "Perhaps you would like to try it presently; but first, Colonel Ferrers, while the boys are skylarking, or rather tree-larking, up there, I want to hear the story you were telling Miles on the drive over. I could not hear very well on the back seat, and besides, I was making up my game. It was some adventure of yours when you were a boy."
"Capital story!" said Mr. Merryweather. "Do tell it, Colonel; I want to hear it again."
The Colonel smiled, and puffed meditatively at his cigar.
"Story of the barrel, eh?" he said. "Uponmy word, now, I think it is pretty hard to make me tell that story before all these young people. What do you say, Gertrude? you don't want to hear about your old friend's being a young fool, do you?"
"Oh! Colonel Ferrers," said Gertrude; "a story that makes your eyes twinkle so must be one that we all want to hear. Do begin, please!"
And all the girls, who had been putting away the table-cloth and "tidying-up" generally, gathered about the Colonel in an eager group.
"Well! well!" he said, glancing from one bright face to another. "After all, what are we old fogies for, but to point a moral and adorn a tale? Listen, then. This happened when I was a young jackanapes of about my nephew's age; I knew everything in the world then, you understand, and nobody else knew much of anything. That was my belief, as it is the belief of most young men."
"Uncle," said a voice from above, "there are three young men up here who are prepared to drop things on your head if you slander their generation."
"Slander your generation, sir?" cried the Colonel, "by likening it to my own? Of all the monstrous insolence I ever heard—you may be thankful, sir, that I name yours in the same breath with it. Be good enough to hold your tongue, sir, and attend to your business, which is that of listening to me. Well, my dear madam, at the period of which I speak, I was in the office of my uncle, Marmaduke Ferrers, India merchant, importer of tea, silks, that sort of thing. Learning the trade, you understand; though, as I say, I was not aware that there was anything in particular to learn. This is one of the lessons I did learn. One day I was sent to the warehouse to count some barrels, and see them stowed away in the vault where they belonged. They were a special thing, barrelsof minerals for some collection museum, I forget what. Out of our own line, but we had undertaken to store and keep them for a time. The vault was directly under the warehouse, which was some way from the office. So! I went down and found no one there; The men were at their dinner, you understand. They may have been a little in a hurry, may have started a few minutes before the bell rang; I don't know how it was. At any rate, I was in a towering passion; thought the whole business was going to the dogs for want of discipline, wanted to dismiss every man in the warehouse. Men who had been there before I was born, and knew more about tea than I was likely to know in my lifetime. Well, sir, it came into my ass's head that I would give these men a lesson, show them that there was some one in the place that meant to have things done when he wanted them done. I would stow those barrels myself. I was strong as a bull, you remember—I beg tenthousand pardons! you and your husband were infants when this happened; not out of long clothes, I am positive. But I was uncommonly strong, and thought Milo and Hercules would have found me a tough subject to tackle. Well—speaking of tackle—there was the rope and pulley, all ready for lowering; block up at the ceiling, rope dangling,—just over the trap that led into the vault. There were the barrels; nothing was easier, I thought. Child's play; I would have every one of the barrels lowered and stowed before those scoundrels came back from their dinner. I pushed the first barrel to the edge of the trap (lifted the trap-door first, you understand), hooked on the 'fall,' pleased as Punch with myself—the only man in the world, I give you my word; then I got a good hold on the rope, and—kicked the barrel over the edge."
"Oh! Colonel Ferrers!" cried the girls.
"Ha! ha! ha!" roared the boys in the tree.
"Loaded with minerals, you understand! stone, metal, I don't know what. The barrel went down, and I went up."
"Oh!Colonel Ferrers!"
"Up to the ceiling, I give you my word. High room, too, great warehouse, twenty feet if it was one. There I hung, and there I swung, a spectacle for gods and men."
"Whatdidyou do?" asked Mrs. Merryweather, as soon as she could control her laughter. "Dear friend, it is most heartless to laugh, but how can we help it? How did you ever get down? did you have to wait till the men came back?"
"No, madam. My pride would not allow that. I learned my lesson, or a part of it, while I hung there like Mahomet's coffin; I learned that Gravitation did not trouble itself about superior young men; but I did not learn all that there was to learn; that took the sequel. Well, I hung there, as I say, revolving slowly; centrifugal force, you understand; Iwas really exemplifying the workings of natural forces; interesting demonstration, if there had been any one there to see. My crumb of comfort was that there was no one. I must get down before those men came back from dinner; that was the one thing necessary in the world at that moment. I measured the space of the trap as I swung; I prided myself on my correct eye; you see I was a most complete ass: I have seen only a few completer. I thought I could jump down astride of the trap, so to speak, and get no harm. I came down the rope, hand over fist, till I got to the end of it; only about six feet between me and safety: then I jumped."
"And did you—"
"No, my dear madam, I did not. I went down into the cellar, on top of the barrel, and I carry the mark of the edge of that barrel on my shoulders to this day, and shall to my latest day. And the moral of this story," the Colonel concluded, glancing up into thedepths of the great hemlock, "the moral, my young friends, is: wait till you know something before you decide that you know everything."
When the laughter had subsided, Mr. Merryweather said: "Your story, Colonel, reminds me of a scrape that Roger and I once got into, years ago. No, it wasn't Roger, it was my brother Will. My children all know it, but it may be new to you and our other guests. It happened when we were out sailing one day, on this very pond. The water was pretty low that year, and we got over into a cove on the north side, where we seldom went, and didn't know the ground thoroughly. Indeed, in very low water, one is apt to find that one doesn't know any ground thoroughly. New ledges and rocks are constantly cropping out—as you shall hear. Well, we were sailing along in fine style, before a fair wind, when suddenly—we ran aground."
"On the shore?" asked the Colonel.
"No; on a rock. It was getting dark, and we could not see very well, but I could see a nose of rock, and it looked like the end of a ledge. 'I'll get out and shove her off!' said I. I sounded with an oar, and found the water barely ankle-deep on the ledge. So I took off my shoes and stockings, rolled up my trousers a little, and stepped in—up to my neck!"
"Ha! ha!" roared the Colonel. "Ho! ho! that was sport. I wish I had seen you."
"Wait a moment!" said the Chief. "The picture is not ready for exhibition yet. When Will had got through laughing at me, he went to work—I found I could not stir the boat alone—he went to work and got ready. Stripped to the skin—he had on a new suit, and was something of a dandy in those days—stepped carefully overboard—and landed in water three inches deep."
"Merryweather, you are making this up!"
"Indeed I am not, my dear sir. There westood, I up to my chin, he with his toes under water, and laughed till we were so weak that we had to go ashore and sit down before we had strength to push that boat off. There is my Roland for your Oliver, Colonel. And now, Miranda, I think we are ready for your game. Come down, boys!"
The boys came scrambling down, still laughing over the stories, and soon all were seated on the carpet of dry, fragrant pine-needles. The girls had found some oak-leaves ("It is my belief," said Mr. Merryweather, "that if Bell went to a picnic in a coal-mine or on a sand-bank, she would still manage to find oak-leaves somewhere!"), and were busily twining garlands for the heads of the company.
"Are we all ready?" asked Mrs. Merryweather. "Well! my game—a very simple one—is calledVocabulary. It came from my reading the other day an admirable little book written by a wise professor, in which hedeplores the poverty of our vocabularies, and makes a suggestion for our enlarging them. He advises us to add two or three words to our list every week. The first time we use a new word, he says, it will be embarrassing to us and, it may be, amusing to our hearers; but if we have courage and patience, we shall be doing a good work not only for ourselves, but for all our generation and the generations that are to come. Well, this naturally appealed to me, and I was thinking of proposing it to you all this evening; and then, as we were driving over, it occurred to me that it might be made into a rather amusing game."
"Miranda," said her husband, "is there anything in life that you donotthink can be made into a rather amusing game? But go on!"
"Dear Mammy!" said Phil. "Do you remember when you and I both had the toothache, and you thought it might be amusingto count the jumps and see how many there were in a minute?"
"Well, so it would have been," said his mother, "if we had only had a little more fortitude. Now if you are all going to laugh at me, you shall not learn the game."
"Oh, we will be good!" exclaimed the Merryweathers. "We truly will."
"The game ofVocabulary," said Mrs. Merryweather, "is played thus. One—I, for example—begins to tell a story. I say, 'I went out to walk this morning, and I met—' there I stop short, and you, in turn, give a verb synonymous, more or less, with 'met.' This goes around the circle till some one cannot find a verb, and that some one must continue the story, stopping at any word he likes. I fear this is not very clear; perhaps we can illustrate it best playing it. I will begin as I suggested. I went out to walk this morning, and on my way I met—" she stopped.
"Encountered!" said Mr. Merryweather.
"Approached!" said the Colonel.
"Ran up against!" said Gerald.
"Fell afoul of!" said Phil.
"Fell in with!" said Bell.
"Peggy, you come next."
"Oh! I can't!" cried poor Peggy. "They have said everything; Mrs. Merryweather, I can'teverplay anything of this kind, you know. I am too stupid."
"Nonsense, my child; you are not in the least stupid. If you cannot think of a word, go on with the story."
"But I don't know how!" cried Peggy, her eyes growing large and round, with a look that Gertrude and Margaret knew only too well. The tears were not far behind those round blue eyes; and Margaret hastened to the rescue. "You met a man, dear!" she whispered. "That is all you need say."
"Well—I met a man!" said Peggy, with a gasp.
"Person!"
"Individual!"
"Anthropoid ape!"
"Masculine mortal!"
"Chump!"
"I object to the definition!" said Mrs. Merryweather. "In case of a false definition, the falsifier takes up the thread. Go on, Jerry."
"This man (hewasa chump, you'll see!) was so ugly that not a crow dared to stay in the same county with him, and so disagreeable that it gave one spasms to look at him; also, he had not the manners to take off his hat—" he stopped short.
"Cap!"
"Hood!"
"Helmet!"
"Bonnet!"
"Head-dress!"
"Tam-o'-shanter!"
"Mitre!"
"Tiara!"
"Fez!"
"Turban!"
"Beretta!"
"I give in!" cried the Colonel. "I cannot think of another thing, so I continue the tale.
"This odious person, after passing me in the unmannerly fashion described, was about to proceed further; but I, seizing him by the coat collar, lifted my stout stick, and gave him a good sound—"
"Thrashing!"
"Licking!"
"Beating!"
"Chastisement!"
"Hiding!"
"Walloping!"
"Whipping!"
"Scourging!"
"Drubbing!"
"Trouncing!"
"Thwacking!"
"Lashing!"
"Flogging!"
"Caning!"
"Larruping!"
"Fustigating!"
"Basting!"
"Leathering!"
"Thumping!"
"Whopping!"
"Rib-roasting!"
"Dear me!" cried Mrs. Merryweather. "This is rather terrible, I think. There seem to be more terms to express personal violence than anything else."
"We haven't begun to give them all, either!" said Phil. "If we are allowed to use modern slang—I know you prefer ancient, Mammy—"
"I know you are a saucy boy!" said his mother.
"My dear friends," said the Chief, rising. "This is all very fine: but the simple fact is,it is beginning to rain, and I think it advisable for us to beat, fustigate, (wheredidyou get that, Miranda?) or wallop, a retreat!"
Then there was scrambling up, and running to and fro, and gathering up of baskets and shawls. The good old horse, which had been grazing peacefully in a clearing hard by, was harnessed, and Mr. and Mrs. Merryweather, Colonel Ferrers, and theimpedimentabundled in and off as hastily as might be. Finally, as the rain began to pour down in good earnest, the younger campers gathered into a solid phalanx and walked home across the fields, singing in chorus, and informing all whom it might concern that they were
"Marching along,Fifty score strong,Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song!"
"Ma!" said Willy Merryweather.
"Baa!" replied his mother, without looking up from her writing.
Willy fidgeted, and looked over his shoulder. "Mammy, I wish you would speak to Kitty."
"Speak to Kitty? certainly. How do you do, Kitty?"
Willy looked uncomfortable, but went on.
"I spoke for the Rangeley boat, and now she wants it. She always wants it, and it isn't fair."
"I don't always want it, Willy! I haven't been in it for two days. I think you are very unkind."
By this time Mrs. Merryweather had finishedher sentence; she looked up, and surveyed the two children with a half-abstracted gaze.
"Who are you?" she asked, abruptly. "I thought Kitty and Willy were here."
Kitty took hold of the hem of her apron, and Willy felt of the knife in his pocket.
"Who are you?" repeated Mrs. Merryweather in a tone of wonder. "You should always answer a question, you know."
"We are Kitty and Willy ourselves!" murmured the children, the red beginning to creep around their ears.
"Oh, no!" said Mrs. Merryweather, reprovingly. "Don't say such things as that, my dears. I know Kitty and Willy perfectly well; they are brother and sister, two cheerful, affectionate children, who love each other. I don't know anything about you two; run away, please, for I am busy."
As the children moved slowly away, she called after them: "If you should see Kittyand Willy, you might send them to me, if you please!"
Round on the other side of the big oak-tree, sheltered from the eyes that looked so abstractedly over their glasses, Willy rubbed his shoulders uncomfortably against the bark, while Kitty kicked a bit of stick to and fro.
"There isn't any use in talking to Mammy when she does that way!" said Willy, half to himself, but with a side glance at Kitty. "If she would have only listened to me—"
"She never will!" said Kitty, responding to the half glance. "She always says there is no need of quarrelling, and she doesn't see why she should have to hear disagreeable remarks."
"Other children scrap," said Willy. "I don't see why we can't now and then."
"Well, she just won't have it, Will, so where's the use? Never mind about the Rangeley; you may have it, and I'll take theWobbler."
"I don't care!" said Willy. "You may have her."
"So may you!"
Silence. Willy rubbing his shoulders, Kitty kicking her bit of stick.
Presently Kitty looked up brightly, and shook her curls back. "I've got over mine, Willy!" she announced. "Are you getting over yours?"
"Ye-es!" said Willy, slowly. "I—s'pose I am."
"Why don't we go together?" asked Kitty. "Then we can both have the Rangeley."
"All right!" said Willy, brightening at once. "Where shall we go? We might play Pirate a bit—"
"And then go for the milk! That would be great!"
"All right, come on, Kit."
"Oh! but, Willy—"
"Well?"
"We must goandtell Mammy first."
Once more the two children presented themselves before their mother, who was still writing busily. At the first "Mammy!" she looked up quickly.
"Well, dears!" she said, "I was wondering where you were. What are you going to play this afternoon?"
"We thought perhaps we might have the Rangeley together, and play Pirate!" said Willy.
"And then go for the milk!" said Kitty.
"To be sure!" said Mrs. Merryweather. "Yes, Papa said you might have the boat if you wanted it. That will be very nice, only be careful, dears. Give Mammy a kiss, and have a great good time."
"Run her up!" said the Pirate Captain.
"Ay, ay, sir!" replied the mate.
The Jolly Roger fluttered up to the mast-head: skull and crossbones black as ink could make them, ground very nearly white; it wasa splendid flag. The Captain was a terrible figure, clad in yellow oilskins many sizes too big for him, with ferocious mustaches curling up to his eyes. His belt contained a perfect armory of weapons; item, a pistol that had lost its barrel; item, three wooden daggers, assorted sizes; item, one tomahawk, home-made. The mate was scarcely less terrifying, for though a blue petticoat showed beneath his oilskin jacket, and curls flowed from under his sou'wester, he made up for it by a mass of oakum beard and whisker that was truly awe-inspiring. Also, he had the truncheon which used to be a curling stick, and a deadly weapon of singular appearance which was understood to be a boomerang.
"Look out, Bill! avast there! dost see any foes about?"
"Ay, ay, sir! I see a craft on the jib boom—"
"Lee bow, Kitty!—I mean Bill; not jib boom! You are always saying that."
"''TIS NOT A PLATE SHIP!'""''TIS NOT A PLATE SHIP!'"
"I meant lee bow!" said Bill, anxious to please. "Anyhow, I see a craft, your Honor. I think she is a plate ship from the Spanish Main. Shall we run her down?"
"Give me the glass!" exclaimed the Pirate Captain: and through that instrument, which the ignorant might have mistaken for a battered tin horn, he scrutinized the "craft," which lay on the water at some distance.
"'Tis not a plate ship!" he announced at length. "I think we have had enough plate ships lately. This is a Dutch lugger from Samarcand, laden with raisins and fig-paste and lichi nuts and cream dates. I shouldn't wonder if she had narghiles too, and scimitars,—I need a new scimitar,—and all sorts of things. Up helm, and crowd on all sail in pursuit!"
"Ay, ay, sir! stunsels?"
"Stunsels, balloon-jibs, topgallant spinnakers, royal skyscrapers, everything you can think of. Ha! we are off! Row hard now,Bill! The lubbers are asleep, and we shall run them down easily. Are the cutlasses ready?"
"Ay, ay, sir!"
"Ho! we are gaining on them. Ho, ho! bend to your oars, my hearties! grappling-chains ready there! ho! on to the chase!"
Now Phil was very busy making a fly for lake trout, and explaining the manufacture of it to Peggy; and Peggy was absorbed in watching him, and in counting the number of separate aches she felt after her first lesson in rowing. Moreover, the bloody pirates had conducted their conversation in a half-whisper, and the wind was the other way. But suddenly, Peggy looked up and saw them, now at only a few yards distance.
"Good gracious!" she cried. "What is it? Do look, Phil!"
Phil looked hastily around; chuckled, and fell into an attitude of abject terror. "Mercy! mercy!" he cried; cowering downin his seat. ("It's the kids; please be frightened!) Oh! what will become of us? We are lost!"
"Oh! save me, spare me!" cried Peggy, following suit, and clasping her hands in supplication.
The pirate bark ran alongside, and grappling- irons were tossed aboard the ill-fated merchantman. The Pirate Captain, standing in the stern of his vessel, surveyed them with baleful looks.
"What ship is this?"
"TheWeeping Woodchuck, Captain Zebedee Moses of Squedunk, please your Honor's Worship!"
"Well I am Captain England, and this is theGory Griffin. If you have a cargo of raisins and fig-paste and cream dates, hand them over; otherwise, prepare to walk the plank this instant!"
"Oh, spare us! spare this tender maiden!" cried Phil. "I have no fig-paste, but wouldn'tfresh doughnuts do as well, O man of blood? Life is sweet—and fish is needed for supper!"
At these remarks the pirate's ferocious scowl relaxed somewhat. "Hand over your doughnuts!" he said, briefly. "This once I spare ye, but cross not my path again! I jolly well forgot about tea," he added, as Phil tossed him some doughnuts; "I suppose it must be about time to go for the milk, perhaps, is it?"
Phil looked at his watch. "Well, I should say it jolly well was!" he replied. "You'd better be off, young ones—I mean Scourges of the Deep!"
It was quite a pull over to the point where the milk-cans were waiting, but Kitty and Willy were both good oars, and the doughnuts were crisp and fortifying.
"Let's take the point by storm!" suggested the gallant England, who had not had his fill of glory. "The cans might betreasure, you know, and we can creep up silently."
"But there's no one to hear us be silent!" said Kitty.
"Oh, that's nothing! We can hear ourselves, and, anyhow, it is good practice. Come on, now! Be silent as the grave!" Leaving the boat on the shore, they crept up the beach, pounced on the milk-can,—a tall "separator" which held the whole provision for the family supper and breakfast,—and bore it in triumph to the boat. But, alas! for the gallant pirates! In getting aboard, one of them slipped; the other stumbled; between the two, neither could tell just how, the tall can toppled, and fell into the boat; the stopper flew out—"Then all the mighty floods were out!"
"But wherecanthe children be?" asked Mrs. Merryweather, for the tenth time.
The horn had blown for supper, the fishwere fried, the campers were hungry and thirsty; and the milk had not come.
"Wherecanthey be?" said every one.
Mr. Merryweather put down the glass with which he had been sweeping the lake. "They are out there!" he said. "I see them, but they don't seem to be rowing. Give me the megaphone, will you, Jerry? Thanks!"
A calm roar went out across the lake. "Come—in—to—tea!"
A faint pipe was heard in reply. "Don't—want—any—tea!"
The second roar was still calm, but peremptory. "Come—in!"
Slowly, very slowly, the oars rose and fell, and the boat crept over the water. What could be the matter with the children?
"Too much bloodshed has upset the gallant England!" said Phil. "When it comes to Willy's not wanting his tea!"
"They have had some accident!" said Mr.Merryweather. "Broken an oar, probably, or lost a rowlock. No. They are both rowing. Well, here they come."
The whole family started for the wharf, but a piteous wail arose from the now approaching boat.
"Please don't everybody come down! we want just Papa and Mamma."
"Stay here, dear people, please!" said Mrs. Merryweather; and both parents hurried down to the wharf, toward which two dejected little figures were now tugging a very heavy boat.
"What's the matter, Will?" said Mr. Merryweather. "Speak up, son."
"We—spilt the milk!" said Willy, in a carefully measured tone.
"Oh, my dears! all of it?" inquired their mother.
"Every drop!" said Willy, grimly.
"Oh, Mammy, we are so sorry!" cried Kitty. "The old can—just—upset! andwe are so wet, and it keeps splashing all over my legs!"
"There! there! come ashore; never mind about the milk!" said Mr. Merryweather.
"Never mind!" echoed Mrs. Merryweather, heartily. "My poor chicks, where have you been all this time? Why didn't you come straight home?"
"We were—afraid!" sobbed Kitty. "We have been rowing around for ever and ever so long, and we are so tired, and hungry, and—wet—"
But by this time Kitty was near enough for her father to bend down and lift her bodily out of the boat, and put her, all dripping milk as she was, into her mother's arms. On her mother's shoulder she sobbed out the rest of the pitiful little story. Kitty was twelve, and not specially small of her age; but she was the baby, and Mrs. Merryweather sat down on the wharf and rocked to and fro, hushing her.
"There! there!" she said, soothingly. "My lamb! as if all the milk in the world were worth your crying about! and crying into the spilt milk, too, and making the boat all the wetter! Hush! hush! Run along, Papa and Willy—dear little boy, it really is only funny, so don't fret, not one little scrap. Kitty and I will come in about two minutes."
Themorning reading was over, but the girls lingered in the pine parlor, where the whole family had been gathered to hear some thrilling chapters of Parkman. Margaret and Bell had their sewing, Gertrude her drawing-board; Peggy was carving the handle of a walking-stick, while Kitty struggled with some refractory knitting-needles.
It was a pleasant place in which they were sitting: a little clear space of pine-needles, embroidered here and there with tiny ferns, and shut in by walls of dusky pine, soft and fragrant. The tree-trunks made excellent (though sometimes rather sticky) chair-backs; the sunshine filtered in through thebranches overhead, making a golden half-light which was the very essence of restfulness.
"Oh, pleasant place!" said Margaret, breaking the silence that had followed the departure of the rest of the family. "How strange it seems, sitting here in this green peace and quiet, to read of all those terrible happenings. How can it be the same world?"
"He was a man, that La Salle!" exclaimed Peggy. "I never heard of such a man. Think of that winter voyage! Think of that man, brought up in luxury, with every kind of accomplishment, and that kind of thing, wading in snow-water up to his knees, and sleeping on the frozen ground, rolled in his blanket, while his clothes dried and froze stiff on the trees! think of him standing alone against courts and savages, and winning every time—till he was killed by those wretches. It is the greatest story I ever read. Now, if all history were like this, Margaret, I never should complain."
"Don't you like history, Peggy?" asked Bell, looking up in wonder.
"I used to detest it," said Peggy, laughing. "Julius Cæsar, and William the Conqueror, and all those people used to bore me dreadfully, though Margaret did her very best to make them interesting; didn't you, you dear?"
"I tried, Peggy," said Margaret, with a smile; "but you never would admit that they were real people, just as real as if they were alive to-day."
"Oh, well, of course I know they were alive once, but so were mummies, and you can't expect me to be interested inthem. However, I think I really am improving. 'Hereward' brought William alive for me, it truly did; and this Parkman book delights me. Oh! I should like to have made that voyage down the Mississippi, girls! I think, on the whole, I would rather be Cavalier de La Salle than any one I ever heard of."
"In spite of all the suffering and tragedy?" said Gertrude. "I could not say that, much as I admire him."
"Who would you be, if you could choose? Let us all say!" cried Bell. "A new game! two minutes for reflection!" and she took out her watch with a business-like air.
"Oh!" cried Gertrude. "But there are so many!"
"Silence!" said Bell; and there was an instant of absolute stillness. Taking advantage of it, a chipmunk ran across the brown carpet, and pausing midway, sat up on his haunches and surveyed the new and singular mountain ranges that had risen on his horizon. One of the mountains stirred—whisk! he was gone.
"Time's up!" said Bell. "Margaret, I will begin with you. With all history to choose from, who will you be?"
"Oh! must I be first?" cried Margaret. "As Gertrude says, there are so many; andyet when you come to think them over, there is something against every one; I mean something one would not like to do or to suffer. But,—on the whole,—IthinkI would be Elizabeth of Hungary."
"Our Lady of the Roses? Well, she was lovely, though I should be sorry to marry her husband. The story would have been somewhat different if I had; but I am not a saint. Peggy, your turn!"
"This man we are reading about!" said Peggy, decidedly. "La Salle!"
"Toots!"
"Bell, you know I nevercandecide between Shakespeare and Raphael. I have to be both; they lived quite far enough apart for separate incarnations."
"Greedy, grasping girl!" said Bell. "Kitty, who are you?"
"Jim Hawkins!" said Kitty, promptly.
"No fiction allowed this time, Missy, only history!"
"Oh, dear! well, then—Francis Drake!"
"Bound to have a pirate, aren't you, Kitty?" said Gertrude, mischievously.
"He wasn't a pirate!" cried Kitty, indignantly. "He was a great hero."
"L'un n'empêchait pas l'autre, in those days!" said Bell.
"Well, now for yourself, Bell!" said Margaret. "It is your turn."
"Oh, I didn't need any two minutes," said Bell. "I am always William the Silent. I should be Beethoven if it were not for the deafness, but that I could not have borne."
"You all want to be men, don't you?" observed Margaret, thoughtfully.
"Why—yes, so we do! you are the only one who chose a woman."
"Everybody would be a man if they could!" cried Peggy, throwing grammar to the winds, as she was apt to do when excited.
"No, indeed, everybody would not!" criedMargaret, her soft eyes lighting up. "Nothing would induce me to be a man."
"I don't think you would make a very good one, to be sure!" said Peggy, looking affectionately at her cousin. "But I bet—I mean wager—you told me I might say 'wager,' Margaret!—that none of the other girls would hesitate a minute if they had the chance. I wouldn't! Think of it! No petticoats, no fuss, no having to remember to do this, and not to do that; and no hairpins, or gloves, or best hats—"
"Ah!" said Bell; "that is only the smallest part, Peggy. I don't mind the hairpin part—though of course it is a joy to get out here and dispense with them—but still, that is only a trifle. The thing I think about is the freedom, the strength, the power to go right ahead anddothings!" and, as she spoke, Bell threw her head back and stretched her arms abroad with a vigorous gesture. "Of course we girls are all well and strong,but it isn't the same strength as a man's. We are constantly running up against things we cannot, ought not to do. Idoenvy the boys, I cannot help it."
"Yes!" cried Margaret, leaning forward, a soft flush rising to her cheeks. "I know—it is glorious to see them; but, Bell, isn't the very weakness part of our strength? Isn't it just because womenknowthe—the things they cannot do, that they are able to understand and sympathize, and—and help, in ways that men cannot, because they do not know?"
"I think Margaret is right!" said Gertrude, slowly. "And besides, there is strength and strength, Bell. For long endurance of pain or hardship, the woman will outlast the man nine times out of ten, I believe; and I heard Doctor Strong say once that women would often bear pain quietly that would set a man raving. Yes, I come over to your side, May Margaret. I would take Joan of Arc, ifit were not for the stake. Let me see—oh, I know! I will be Grace Darling."
"Who was she?" asked Kitty.
"The lighthouse-keeper's daughter, at Longstone, off the Yorkshire coast. A ship, theForfarshire, was wrecked on the rocks near by, and there seemed no chance of saving any of the crew; but Grace persuaded her father to try, and just those two rowed out, in a most terrible storm, to the reef on which the vessel had been wrecked, and saved the nine men, all that were left out of sixty-three, who were clinging to the rocks, waiting for death. Why wasn't that just as fine as commanding an army, or even leading a forlorn hope in battle? Then there was dear Margaret Roper—I think she is the one for you, May Margaret!—and Cochrane's Bonny Grizzy, and—oh, ever and ever so many of them. Yes, I take up my stand once and for all on my own side."
"Well!" said Bell, shaking her head. "Ihear what you say, Betsy, but it makes no difference,—does it, Peggy?—though I admit the force of your remarks."
"Not a bit!" said Peggy. "I wouldn't have been Mrs. La Salle for a farm."
"There wasn't any!" said Margaret.
"The principle remains the same," said Peggy, "as Miss Russell used to say."
"There is another thing!" said Margaret. "Your life out here, Bell, shows me how much girlscando; I mean in the active, outdoor, athletic way. More than I ever dreamed they could do. It really seems to me that, except just for the petticoats, you have very few drawbacks. I suppose it is having all the brothers. Why, you know as much as they do about the woods and all."
"Yes, it's partly the boys," said Bell; "but it is much more Papa. You see, from the time we could walk, he has always taken us out into the woods and fields, and made ususe our eyes and ears, and talked to us about things. We should not know anything, if it were not for Papa."
"He does seem to know almost everything!" said Margaret. "I never saw any one like him."
"Thereisn'tany one like him," said Gertrude, decidedly. "What have you got there, Margaret?"
Margaret had drawn a letter from her pocket, and was looking it over.
"An argument on my side," she said, smiling. "May I read it aloud?"
"Do! do!" cried all the girls.
Margaret smoothed out the crumpled pages affectionately. "He carried it in his pocket two days before he remembered to post it!" she said. "I judge from the date, and the appearance of the envelope. There was candy in his pocket, and"—she sniffed at the letter—"yes! tar, without doubt. Now listen!