CHAPTER VI.
MRS. LENNOX.
"Is n't it splendiferous!" cried Betty, as they reached the beach. "Hester Laverack, you are the most exasperating girl! You just sit there like a bump on a log. Why don't you shout, or turn a handspring, or do something to express your appreciation of the scene?"
"Let dogs delight
To bark and bite,"
said Hester; "’t is n't my nature to. I'm enjoying it all just as much as you are, but I don't make such a fuss about it."
"Well, I don't see how any one can look at that great, boiling blue ocean, and those jolly big waves coming up ker-smash! and not feel like yelling. I shall have to burst into song. 'Columbia the gem of the o-shun!’"
"Betty, you have n't a speck of romance in your nature," said Hester, laughing. "Now if Daisy were here she'd quote an appropriate ditty instead of howling a national air."
Just then they rounded the corner of an old pier, and there, leaning cozily against a post, were Marguerite and Nan.
"Did you come for us?" said Marguerite. "We were just going to start; we 've been here a long while, and we 've had the loveliest time!"
"You have!" exclaimed Hester. "How did you get here?"
The two scapegraces laughed, and Nan said: "Well, you see, it was such a pleasant morning, and such a short walk, we left our hats at home, and, not to disturb the rest of you, we climbed out of our window and crawled down that low slanting roof, and jumped off."
"Then you did n't get our note," said Betty.
"What note?"
"Oh, girls, there's no breakfast ready—or anything."
"Well," confessed Marguerite, "when we jumped down by the shed steps, there was the pail of milk, and we just took a drink, and, truly, we did n't mean to stay so long; but Nanny's been writing a poem, and I hated to interrupt her till she finished."
"Yes, yes," said Betty, "that's all very well, but I'm hungry as a bear, and I'm going home to forage."
The others agreed to this, and Betty and Hester led their wheels, while they all walked along together.
Half-way home they met Helen and Jessie coming down to the beach. A general explanation followed, and Nan exclaimed:
"Well, we are the best set of housekeepers I ever did see! But perhaps that duck of a Millicent has a gay old breakfast all ready for us. It would be just like her to do it, and, I say, let's hurry up and not keep her waiting."
Helen and Jessie turned back with them to see the fun, and the six, with Timmy Loo at their heels, burst into the house. No one was in sight, but as the little dog wagged his sagacious tail and hopped upstairs, they all followed, and bundled into Millicent's room.
That absurd damsel was still in bed, propped up against a pillowy background; a red shawl draped her shoulders, and a wabbly wreath of goldenrod lay gracefully on her black curls—while a shaking mound under the bed-covers was the only indication of Marjorie's presence.
Rosie sat on the edge of a chair, her hands tightly clasped and her eyes wide open, enthralled by the tales of magical experiences that Millicent was dramatically pouring forth:
"Why, Millicent Payne!"
"Why, Marjorie Bond!"
"For goodness' sake!"
"Well, you are nice ones!"
"Look at that tray!"
"Did you ever?"
These exclamations, being all shouted at once, conveyed no intelligence, and the serene Millicent waved her scepter, which was a long stalk of goldenrod, and said:
"Minions and slaves, how dare you rush thus unannounced into the royal presence? And—where in the world have you been?"
Concerted explanations followed, and Marguerite protested so prettily that she would gladly have prepared breakfast if she had received the notice before she jumped out of the window, that of course she was forgiven.
Timmy Loo had stationed himself before the table which held the tray of empty dishes, and sat up motionless, his fore paw extended in his very best beggarly manner.
"You precious poodle-puppy," said Marjorie, catching him up, "you have n't had a single speck to eat this day, and I think it's a shame, so I do. Girls, we 're a nice lot! We 've been here nearly twenty-four hours and we 've had one meal! Now I call a conference of the powers, and let's settle on some definite line of action, or we 'll have the agent from the Associated Chanties down here giving us soup-tickets. Rosie, won't you please take Tim down to the kitchen and give him some bread and milk? And the Summer Club will please come to order."
Marjorie had on her presidential pose, and when that was the case the girls always became rational and "quit fooling."
"Now, my fellow-sufferers," said she, "we 've got to have some sort of a system. We thought it was going to be such lots of fun to do all the work, and already we 're sneaking out of it. Do you want to give up the scheme and go home?"
"No!" chorused the crowd.
"Well, then, here's my plan, and any one can improve upon it who wants to. We 'll have three meals a day, with dinner at noon and a supper or high tea at six o'clock, and we 'll take turns by twos. Two is enough to have in the kitchen at once besides Rosie, and then, having four pairs of people and three meals, we won't have to cook the same kinds of things each time. Am I clear?"
"You are!" was the unanimous response.
"Now let Helen and Hester get dinner to-day; then suppose Marguerite and Nan take charge to-night; then Millikens and I will get breakfast for you to-morrow morning—and we 'll do it, too; and Betty and Jessie can dine us—and so on, over again."
As might have been expected from such a really capable lot of girls, this plan worked extremely well; and if they learned to look forward with especial confidence to the feasts prepared by Marjorie or Hester, they were none the less appreciative of the lesser efforts of Betty, or even the merry mistakes and elaborate failures of Marguerite.
And so the days danced by, each one happier than the last, and all too short for the amount of fun that had to be crammed into them. Wheeling, walking, boating, bathing, fishing, and crabbing were favorite employments; but best of all the girls liked to gather on the veranda and just "group around," as Millicent expressed it.
And the veranda at Hilarity Hall was a most attractive place. Hammocks, rockers, and wicker settees abounded, and pillows were as sands of the sea-shore for multitude.
One morning Marjorie threw herself into a hammock, and declared that she should stay there all day.
The Matron settled her small person in the biggest rocking-chair, and, with an air of weighty responsibility, frowned over her account-books.
Nan appropriated a wicker couch, and announced that she was going to dream dreams and see visions.
Betty and Jessie sat together in another hammock, swinging themselves by vigorous kicks which scratched much paint from the piazza floor.
Hester sat bolt upright in a small straight-backed chair, and crocheted lace from a gently bobbing spool of thread.
Helen was trying to write a letter, but was much hampered by Millicent's teasing.
It pleased the ingenious Lamplighter to substitute various articles in place of Helen's ink-stand, and that preoccupied scribe had dipped her pen successively into an apple, a hat, a slipper, and finally into Millicent's own curly topknot.
Long-suffering Helen smiled good-naturedly at each prank, and patiently set her inkstand in place again.
So Millicent declared it was no fun to tease her, and transferred her attention to Timmy Loo. Taking a sheet of Helen's paper, she made a cocked hat for him, and, with a paper-cutter for a sword, he posed successfully as Napoleon.
The applause at this performance was so great that it caused Aunt Molly to appear at her window.
"Come over," called Marjorie.
"Yea, come, Fairy Godmother," chimed in Millicent, and, well pleased, Aunt Molly trotted over and joined the merry group.
They had a good time telling her all about their most recent fun, for what is nicer than a really interested listener?
Marjorie read the "Annals" to her, which she declared was the work of genius.
"Why," said the Duchess, as she reached the end of what they had written the night before, "here's another page. Who wrote it?"
"Read it," said Betty, and Marjorie read:
"There's something gone wrong in Hilarity Hall,
There's something awry, I guess;
For the Scullery- maid to the parlor has strayed,
And the Stoker is mending her dress!
"The Wandering Minstrel is cooking the soup,
The Peeler is writing a pome;
The Lamplighter's painting a 'Sunrise at Sea,'
Resplendent with madder and chrome.
"The dignified Duchess is washing the hearth,
The Matron's embroidering a scarf;
While the Peeler is writing this lyrical ode
In hopes that the others will larf."
"Why, that's fine, Betty; I'm proud of you!" cried Marjorie; but Betty only said, "Pooh, that's nothing; read the next page."
So Marjorie read:
"TO NAN.
"Our poet writes such clever verse,
I'm sure no one writes prettier;
And though some poets have done Moore,
I know that she is Whittier.
"Of course our poet fair is Young,
Although not quite a Child is she;
In years to come she may be Gray,
But Sterne I think she 'll never be.
"She almost always is all Smiles,
And of her kind Harte I speak highly;
But on occasions she is Gay,
And when she's nervous she is Riley.
"Our poet wants to be a Cook
And turn her mind to Ruskin jelly;
She's very, very fond of Crabbe—
Indeed, of anything that's Shelley.
"She yearns for Browning, fears not Burns,
And for a Piatt times has sighed;
But yesterday she had a Payne,
And day before an Akenside.
"She scorns the Wordsworth of her brain,
Though she's as wise as forty owls;
But when her muse once gets a start,
Look out! for, great Scott, Howitt Howells!"
"Who wrote it? Who wrote it?" queried the girls in chorus, and then each one tried to blush and pretended to look conscious, and Hester said suddenly:
"Oh, see that queer-looking person. I believe she's coming here!"
All looked and beheld a tall, imperious-looking lady, garbed in eccentric fashion, stalking toward them at a rapid gait. Her bonnet was elaborately decked with high feathers, which nodded and bobbed in unison with her quick, jerky footsteps, and over an old-fashioned black silk gown she wore a rich lace mantilla.
"Why, it's Mrs. Lennox," said Aunt Molly, rising. "I dare say she's coming to call on me. Excuse me, girlies. I must run home."
"Let us go with you," cried Marjorie. "I'm sure you 'll need protection from that warlike Amazon. I would n't dare face her alone."
"I 'll call you over if I feel timid," returned Aunt Molly, already half-way down the steps. Sure enough, the stranger turned in at Aunt Molly's gate, and marched up the walk as if she were storming a citadel.
"Jiminy crickets!" whispered Betty, "what can she be? She's too distinguished for a book-agent, and too excited for a plain every-day caller."
"She's Zenobia," said Millicent, "returned to earth in disguise. I think she's collecting a regiment, and wants us to join it."
"She's Minerva in modern garb," said Betty; "and she wants Aunt Molly to take her to board."
"Not she," said Hester. "She's no summer boarder. I think she's a dowager countess with several castles of her own."
By this time they all were watching the old lady, who was evidently telling Aunt Molly a fearful tale of woe, for she gesticulated angrily; and though the girls could not hear her words, they gazed at her bobbing feathers and her clenched hands in sympathy with her trouble, whatever it might be.
Suddenly Aunt Molly called out: "Come over here, girlies; I want you."
Over flew the Octave helter-skelter, but they stood up politely enough while Aunt Molly introduced them to her guest.
"Dear Mrs. Lennox," continued Aunt Molly, "is in a sad dilemma. Only yesterday—but I will ask her to tell you about it herself."
"Yes, I will tell you," cried Mrs. Lennox, fairly glaring at the flock of girls, who fell in an expectant group at her feet; "for the tale ought to be blazoned abroad to the four winds of heaven! Gratitude, thou 'rt but an empty name! Respect, honor, deference? What mean such words? Chimeras all—chimeras all "
The girls sat enthralled, though Millicent with difficulty restrained herself from replying to the old lady in kind.
"We are told," went on Mrs. Lennox, waving her hand dramatically, "that this is a free country! No greater, graver misstatement was ever made. We are slaves!" And she shook her clenched fist at Nan, who chanced to be nearest her, with such a belligerent air that the poor Poet feared she was responsible for the national bondage.
"Slaves!" continued Mrs. Lennox, warming to her subject and waving both arms about. "Slaves to our servants! The time has come when they rule us; they dictate to us; they make the laws and we obey them!"
"Yes'm," murmured Helen, who thought the ensuing pause ought to be filled somehow.
"And now what have my servants done?" she cried, looking from one young face to another, but too engrossed to notice the various expressions of mirth or bewilderment on each.
As no one was in a position to reply, she continued:
"What have they done? They have left me! Departed, one and all, with no word of warning, no cause for offense."
"Why did they go?" inquired Betty, who liked to know reasons for things.
"Alas! James, my butler, obtained a fine position in a large hotel in the city, and, viper that he is, he must needs tell all the others of it; and one and all, from the head cook down to the footman, ungratefully left my kind service and followed James to the unknown, untried hardships of a city hotel."
"But you can get a new set of servants," said Aunt Molly, soothingly.
"Of course I can," cried Mrs. Lennox, bristling up as if her dignity had been menaced. "Of course I can! Hosts of the best servants in the country are only awaiting an opportunity to come to my service. But it takes time to procure and install a new lot, and here is the culmination of my dismay. But now I received a telegram bidding me expect Lady Pendered and her daughter to-morrow, to remain with me overnight. Ah, my dear friend, you do not know Lady Pendered, but she represents the very flower of the British aristocracy. Her fair daughter Lucy is a sweet gem of purest ray serene, and they have never known what it was to have less than twenty servants at command. And my James was such a paragon of a butler!"
"When are your English friends coming?" asked Aunt Molly.
"To-morrow afternoon," replied Mrs. Lennox; "and oh, how it would have pleased me were I but able to offer them such hospitality as 't is in my heart to give. They can remain with me but twenty-four hours, and then they will speed away to publish broadcast the news that Miranda Lennox has no establishment save one old colored woman and a good-for-nothing boy. For those, alas! are all I can find in this howling wilderness of a sea-shore town."
"Girls," was all Aunt Molly said, but she looked volumes of meaning out of her kind, clever eyes.
Marjorie was first to understand and respond.
"Of course we can," she cried, "can't we, girls? It would be the jolliest sort of a lark, and a 'helping hand' besides."
"We could," said Betty, "but—"
"But me no buts!" cried Hester. "We can and we will!"
"Vote!" exclaimed Marjorie. "Shall we or sha'n't we? All in favor, ay!"
"Ay!" yelled the eight, and so quickly was it all done that Mrs. Lennox still wore a look of frightened bewilderment when Marjorie began:
"My dear Mrs. Lennox, you want accomplished and experienced servants to permit you to entertain your friends properly. We claim to be such, and, for one day only, we offer you our services with the greatest pleasure, the only condition being that you take the whole eight."