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BLACKBERRIES reddened down by the pond; the pink hollyhocks were eight feet tall by the kitchen steps; the white phlox was out along the brick path; every afternoon the children's wet bathing suits hung on the line near the grape arbor. The sight of those bathing suits, and letters from Christopher describing the good time he was having at Camp near Port Jefferson, made the animals restless. It was midsummer, and they needed a change. Donny, after a specially alluring letter from Christopher describing how he had slept alone in the woods, made the suggestion, "Let's go camping," he said.
It was a grand idea. There was really no reason why they shouldn't go away for a little trip. The Grape Arbor Tea Room had made a good profit so they had some money to spend. The children would miss them, but a little separation would make them all appreciate each other better when they returned. And Mr. Mistletoe, who was trying to do some writing, was keen about the idea.
Donny was given the money and sent in town to buy what was needed for the expedition. He did not often go to the city, and when he did it was an excitement for the whole household. Fourchette scrubbed some food stains from his Palm Beach suit, and pressed it, and cleaned his Panama hat. Mr. Mistletoe gave him a bath with flea soap and trimmed his whiskers. Nothing could make hairy old Donny look like a real commuter: at his very best he looked more like a sailing-ship skipper togged out in unaccustomed shore clothes. His Panama hat had shrunk a bit and was too small for his big shaggy head. But at any rate he looked most respectable. The whole family lined up to inspect him, straightened his hat, put a dahlia in his button hole. Mr. Mistletoe lent him an old brief-case, to carry packages, and Donny went off very pleased with himself.
While Donny was in town that day an exciting thing happened. Fourchette was at the A. & P., buying provisions for the trip, when the Glen Cove peanut wagon came by. You've seen it trundling gently along the shore road drawn by a thoughtful white horse. It carries ice cream cones and candy and crackers and popcorn and ginger ale—all the things people have a hunger for on hot weather picnics. It has a sign on it that says Fresh Rosted Peanuts, and the steam-pipe of the peanut cooker comes up through the roof of the wagon and makes a merry sing-song whistling as the wagon rolls by. When Fourchette saw the wagon she was struck with a great idea. That would be just the thing for them to take their expedition in. She rushed out to ask George Vlachos, the peanut man, if he would sell his wagon.
George didn't like the idea of selling the wagon, but he said he would rent it to them for a while. This would give him a chance to go back to Greece for a holiday. The price came rather high, and Fourchette had to break open the kittens' banks and also Donny's china pig with a slit in its back. But she was convinced that in the lunch wagon they could combine business with pleasure. They could sell hot dogs and ice cream cones to the animals along the road. Animals love these things and rarely get them. She paid George Vlachos the rent at once, for fear he might change his mind, and drove him down to the station so he could get back to Glen Cove by train. Then she brought the wagon back to the house. Everyone was amazed.
The kittens wanted to drive the peanut wagon down to the station to meet Donny's train late that afternoon. But Escargot was very tactful. No, he said, don't do that, because Donny will come home very happy and excited and eager to tell us all about his day in town. It would be unkind to take the wind out of his sails by having such a Surprise waiting for him at the station. Let him tell us about his adventures first.
This was true thoughtfulness. They hid the peanut wagon in the garage and took the white horse (whose name was Bowser) into the back lot to enjoy some grass.
Donny came back on the 4.59 express, which is due at Roslyn at 5.46. He had had a great day. As a matter of fact he got through his errands very quickly, and in his elation at being relieved for a few hours of his home responsibilities he went to a movie. There he sat happily, watching the pictures and whining a little with applause. He did not mention this to the others, however, as somehow he thought it better to speak of the difficult shopping he had done and how hot and crowded New York was. He admitted that he had a frosted chocolate in a drugstore, but they had guessed that already because he forgot to wipe off some of the foam that stuck to his moustache. He was specially proud because he had met the fashionable Mr. Airedale in the Penn Station, and Mr. Airedale had invited him to ride in the club car among all the important people from Oyster Bay. Donny made himself quite at home in the club car, crossed one leg over another like a Prominent Commuter, and talked easily about just having run in to Town to buy a camping outfit. In fact, his behaviour had been so clever all day that no one in New York suspected him. The man at the soda fountain looked at him rather queerly, and said to himself "Isn't it odd how much some people look like dogs." But no one actually found him out.
The animals were delighted with the things he had brought. There were little ponchos and fishing tackle for the kittens, a flashlight for Escargot, flannel shirts for the rabbits, and a pair of very becoming khaki knickers for Fourchette. He had not forgotten the remark she often made when they went on picnics, that knickers are really much more modest than a skirt.
When he had told them all his adventures, and taken off his good clothes, and had a roll on the gravel to express his satisfaction at being home again, Fourchette said: "And now we have something to show you." They took him behind the garage and explained the peanut wagon to him.
Donny was so tickled with the wagon that later in the evening he had one of those barking spells dogs sometimes get, when they go on and on, barking so wildly that they can't stop—although they have quite forgotten what they're barking about. It happens specially on hot still nights when there is a queer heavy silence in the air. He barked and barked until Mr. Mistletoe, already cross because there were so many moths fluttering under his desk lamp, rushed outdoors in his pyjamas, very angry. He chased Donny all round the garden in the moonlight, and sent him to bed. So a day of too much excitement ended, as it often does, with punishment.
****
But the next day that was all forgotten. Fourchette was up early, stowing the provisions into the wagon. The peanut stove was lit and sent up its gay whistle into the warm blue morning. Bowser, the white horse, who had been a little lonely without his friend George Vlachos, now began to see that this new adventure would be good fun. He was given a big breakfast, and Perez even fried an egg for him, something Bowser had never tasted before. Hops and Malta each had a very small suitcase, to hold their toothbrushes and bathing suits and a few toys. Then they arranged themselves for the journey. Binny and Bunny wanted to do the selling, but everyone knew their hungry natures, and it was feared they would eat more than they would sell. Fourchette took charge of the business department, she lay comfortably on a shelf and kept watch on the stock. Escargot was near, high up on one of the glass windows of the wagon where he could see everything and Fourchette could ask him questions in arithmetic in case she got puzzled. Escargot's thoughtful mind was very quick at figures. The others climbed up into the broad front seat. Donny held the reins, the rabbits and kittens sat beside him, continually asking "How soon can I drive?"
Now they were ready, and Donny was panting with eagerness. All the children of the neighbourhood had gathered to see them start, Mr. Mistletoe had hoisted the flag on the pole. Blythe wept a little because she could not go too. Then witha wave from Mr. and Mrs. Mistletoe and a cheer from all the children and a broad grin from Perez, off they went.
Out from the green shadows of the Estates, out into the open sunshine of the big roads, went the: peanut wagon. First they had some errands to do. They stopped at the post office to ask Mrs. Breen to hold their mail for them until they returned. They stopped at Mr. Hamilton's feed warehouse down by the railroad: Donny went into the cool grainy smell of that interesting place where so many sacks are piled up, and brought out a big bag of oats for Bowser. Fourchette, who looked very handsome in her khaki knickers and a red bandanna handkerchief knotted round her neck, visited Roulston's grocery for some chocolate-covered graham crackers as a treat for Donny. Then they rolled down the winding hill, past Mr. Pickering's curiosity shop, past what Helen calls the Muriel Building (she means Memorial). They halted at the bakery to get some bezluks and hodas. Bezluk and Hoda are really the names of the bakers, but the children had given those words to two very delicious kinds of buns they always got there when they were hungry after bathing. A bezluk is a soft bun with raisins in it, a hoda is a crunchier kind with sprinklings of brown sugar. As soon as the rabbits saw the bezluks and hodas they began to say they were hungry; but that was absurd, they weren't even out of the village yet.
They meant to take the turnpike, but Bowser started along the Shore Road by force of habit, and it didn't really matter. So they went past Cedarmere, and under the long arcade of trees by the Engineers' Club, and stopped to sell some of the fresh buns to the black swans at Glenwood. Everywhere the peanut whistle sang its shrill call, like the Pied Piper, and hungry animals came out to bark and wave and welcome them. They didn't get on very fast, there were too many customers, some of whom followed them far along the road. Fourchette was kept busy serving ice cream cones to cats, and hot frankfurters to dogs, and peanuts and popcorn to birds and squirrels who came down from the trees to see what was happening. Seagulls came slanting in from the harbour, and frogs gargled at them from the ponds. Such a crowd gathered when they stopped that they had to pull off to one side to avoid holding up the traffic. Bowser, who proved to be quite a character, always had some humorous comment to make about the cars that hurried past them. He did not even complain when birds and squirrels sat on his back while they ate their peanuts.
Willow trees were rumpled silver in the breeze, bright regiments of tiger lilies paraded on hillsides, the tide pressed high among the reeds and on sandy beaches, strong salty smells sharpened the dulcet air. The road was firm under their rolling wheels, under Bowser's ambling hooves. I know a secret, the little whistle seemed to shrill. Life goes down into the strong earth, life moves in the pushing tide, and life surrounded the wagon with beauty. The shining weather blessed them with colour and laughter in honour of their innocence. For animals are cruel but not cowardly, they are fierce but not mean, they do mischief but never malice. They make no plans, they have no hopes, they ask no questions. Because they are so happy, human beings labour to support them. Their meals are waiting, their needs supplied, men are the humble gods who tend them. As electricity is the servant of man, so is man the servant of animals. Their lack of malice makes them our conquerors. I know a secret! shrilled the little whistle: Life is its own reward.
****
As they had taken such a roundabout road they could not reach Lloyds Neck that day. They spent the afternoon peacefully dawdling on the winding ways past Dosoris, Lattingtown, Locust Valley—a region of great estates where they found few customers. Bowser, who knows all the geography of Nassau County, told them that the name Dosoris comes from Dos Uxoris, which is Latin and means the Dowry of the Wife. But evidently it was just a phrase he had been told, for when they questioned him he could not say whose wife it was or what was a dowry.
Donny said that a dowry was a kind of rowboat, but Fourchette, always a very modern cat and full of decided views, contradicted him. A dowry, she said, is the property a woman gives to any husband who is kind enough to marry her. It is an old exploded idea, a relic of the dark ages, she said quite fiercely. "When I married that lazy loafing cat from the A. & P. I had a can of Norwegian sardines as a dowry. I thought it was safe, for the key to open it had been lost; but within a week he had got a plumber to open it for him and ate them all. That was the beginning of the end. If Malta ever marries, I hope it will be some honest ambitious cat who is willing to work for her."
"However, I regret nothing," she added, embracing the kittens fondly.
Talking cheerfully about this and that, they reached the popular beach at Bayville. Here a curious incident happened, which had much effect on their affairs later. Among the crowd of animals that surrounded them was a dark wizened monkey who belonged to a hand-organ man. The monkey was very thirsty, he had put in a hard long day collecting pennies, and they gave him an ice cream cone. The kittens were enchanted with him: he wore a red jacket and trousers and a very tiny doughboy cap, all extremely dirty. He had a habit of taking off his cap with a quick gesture whenever anything was said to him, and holding out a small dark hand. His forehead was very wrinkled and he seemed nervous and tired.
They unhitched Bowser and left the wagon on the beach while they went for a bathe. The keeper of the bathing pavilion made some protest about Bowser going in. There was no bath-house big enough for him, and also he had no bathing suit.
"How ridiculous!" said Donny angrily. "Bathing suits are absurd anyhow, a relic of the dark ages—like dowries," he added, for he was always quick to pick up a new word.
The keeper was impressed, for he did not know what dowries were either, but he said it was the tule. They hired a dozen bathing suits, at a special rate, and pinned them all together to make a kind of cloak for Bowser.
Escargot, on account of his shell was allowed to go in as he was.
While they were in the water they heard a sort of commotion on the beach, but they paid no attention, thinking it was just the natural admiration of the people at Bowser's unusual bathing costume. They had to wait quite a while for Escargot to come back from the water, but at last they started off again. When they were well on the road a dark wrinkled face suddenly popped up from the sack of unroasted peanuts. It was the monkey. Weary of his difficult life as a handorganist he had come along as a stowaway. He had burrowed into the sack of peanuts and hidden there.
"Oh, then that was what all the noise was about?" said Fourchette.
"Yes," said the monkey. "It was very comic. I could hear it all: Tonio—that's the organ-man—was furious at the bath-house keeper. Tonio said I'd been stolen, and how could he find me again with such a crowd on the beach. The keeper said it was none of his business, and Tonio threatened to take one of the bath-house keeper's children as a substitute."
They were glad to have the monkey join them, as he was an amusing companion, though Fourchette was horrified at the condition of his clothes and would not let the kittens sit next to him, which caused some bickering. They christened him Dosoris as he was an unexpected addition to their resources.
It was almost dark when they reached the old town of Oyster Bay. There was a good deal of traffic in the streets and they had some difficulty in finding a place to park. They were moved on several times by policemen who said they were causing a nuisance. Donny saw some of the prominent people with whom he had ridden in the club car, and barked gaily to them, but none of them recognized him. Finally they drove on through the town to the cemetery. They left the wagon under a tree and went up to. Theodore Roosevelt's grave, where they felt sure they would not be turned away. They all lay down respectfully outside the railings of the grave and slept in peace. Fourchette was afraid that this might be thought a liberty, but Donny replied that T. R. was always interested in animals and would not mind. I think myself that no nicer tribute was ever paid him.
****
It was the next afternoon when they finally got to Lloyds Neck. Escargot and the rabbits had been raised to such a pitch of expectancy by Donny's praise of that country that nothing could have surprised them. But no one is ever disappointed in Lloyds Neck. When Bowser, trotting merrily, pulled the wagon out onto the long narrow strip that joins the Neck to the mainland, they were all thrilled by the view. Escargot stretched his short-sighted eyes to their very longest, like telescopes, to see as much as possible. Even Dosoris, who had spent most of his life in towns and liked crowded places where pennies were frequent, was much impressed by the scenery. The water was going out, and the quiet inlet of Lloyd Harbour had that fine savoury low-tide smell that gives you such an appetite. The rabbits kept exclaiming with hunger, and wanted the wagon to stop every few yards to let them try some of the green things they saw. But they pushed on, along the shore, past the beautiful old Colonial manor, through woods and blue glimpses, until they came to the big tree. There they turned in on a lumber trail. The black dog who is chained up at the farmhouse kept shouting wildly "Private Property! Private Property!" but a couple of frankfurters stopped that.
There was some hard pulling for Bowser, up sandy slopes, but once over the crest of the hill they went easily down through the woods toward the Sound. Donny had picked out the perfect place for a camp. There is a little cliff that overlooks the water, where a circle of trees surrounds a grassy clearing. The beach is rocky, but there are patches of sand, and in late afternoon light the water shines with a marvellous golden-green clearness. Bushes of sweet-fern give off a warm fragrance, and there is any amount of driftwood for building fires. They did not need to bother about a tent, for there was room for them all to sleep under the wagon, except Bowser, who made himself comfortable in a sheltered little grove of cedars not far away.
Fourchette, who always liked everything neat and orderly, said that the first thing to do was to wash Dosoris's clothes. They had some difficulty in persuading him to take them off: he had worn the red jacket and pantaloons, and the doughboy cap, so long, that he really believed they were part of himself. Also, he did not seem to know much about water and how comfortable it is to splash about in. He made a great fuss, but finally they got him undressed and forced him into the water, while Fourchette gave the clothes a good scrub and hung them on a tree to air. Like so many people who make a fuss about doing something, once he was in that warm green bathing he became enthusiastic. Also he quite refused to put on the clothes again, he was so much more comfortable without them. He did not give up the cap, which he was proud of, and continued to take it off hastily every time anyone spoke to him, but the red jacket and trousers were left hanging on the tree.
Meanwhile the kittens had been fishing, from a large rock near the shore, and Escargot had found some snails he could talk to. The long twilight softened around them, and the watchful Fourchette began to observe signs of peevishness—both in herself and the others. After two days on the road they were all tired, and also they had been eating too many sweets. Even the rabbits, usually so gentle, were complaining that they could find no plantain in the woods. As they gathered for supper Escargot just escaped being trodden upon by Bowser, and asked him sharply to be more careful. Dosoris was rather annoyed by repeated references to fleas, and made some brisk retorts to Donny. Then they discovered they had forgotten to bring any water and had nothing to drink but ginger ale and sarsaparilla, which Bowser did not care for. The best thing to do was to go to bed, and they did so. Escargot slept with his flashlight lighted be side him, so that no one would walk on him in the dark.
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