Dorothy's House Party

For the first time in many a day he remembered that he had known Rose; not as a rebellious daughter gone astray from the safe fold of Quakerdom, but as a dutiful innocent little one whom he had loved. Rising at last after a prolonged inspection of his grandson, an inspection returned in kind with the unwinking stare of childhood, he took the boy’s hand and said:

“Very well, Benjamin, I will go with thee to dinner.”

“But the wool? Can I have that? If I had that I could wrap it around Sap – I mean R-u ru, t-h thuh, Ruth, when it’s cold at night and Him’s off messagin’.”

“Yes, yes. Thee can have anything if thee’ll keep still while we ask blessing.”

The face of Dorcas glowed with a holy light. Never had that silent grace been more earnestly felt than on that dark day when the coming of “Rose’s babies” had wrought such a happy effect on her husband’s sorrowful mood. True she also was sorrowful, though in less degree than he; but now she believed with all her heart that this one righteous thing he had done – this allowing of the orphans to come home – would in some way heal that sorrow, or end it in happiness for all.

All afternoon she busied herself in making ready for the permanent comfort of her new-found “blessings.” She hunted up in the attic the long disused trundle-bed of her children; foraged in long-locked cupboards for the tiny sheets and quilts; dragged out of hiding a small chest of drawers and bestowed the twins’ belongings therein, bemoaning meanwhile the worldliness that had selected such fanciful garments as a trio of young girls had done. However, there was plenty of good material somewhere about the house. A cast-off coat of Oliver’s would make more than one suit for Benjamin; while for little Ruth, already the darling of her grandmother’s soul, there were ample pieces of her own gowns to clothe her modestly and well.

“To-morrow will be the Fifth day, and of course, though he seems so indifferent we shall all go to meeting. And when the neighbors ask: ‘Whose children has thee found?’ I shall just say ‘Rosie’s babies.’ Then let them gaze and gossip as they will. I, Dorcas, will not heed. There will be peace at Heartsease now Rosie has come home – in the dear forms of her children.”

Thus thought the tender Friend, sitting and sewing diligently upon such little garments as her fingers had not touched for so long a time; but the “peace” upon which she counted seemed at that moment a doubtful thing.

The day had worn itself out, and the miller had tired of indoors and his own thoughts. From the distant living-room he had been conscious of a strange sound – the prattle of childish voices and the gentle responses of his wife. His heart had been softened, all unknown to himself even, by a sorrow so recent it absorbed all his thought and kept him wakeful with anxiety; yet it was rather pleasant to reflect, in that gloomy afternoon, that he had given poor Dorcas her wish. Those twins would be a great trouble and little satisfaction. They were as much Bowen as Sands; still Dorcas had been good and patient, and he was glad he had let her have her wish.

Ah! hum! The clouds were lifting. He wondered where those children were. He began to wonder with more interest than he had felt during all that endless week, what his workmen were doing. Maybe he would feel better, more like himself, if he went out to the barn and looked about. By this time the cows should be in the night-pasture, waiting to be milked, those which were not now in the stalls of the County Fair.

That Fair! He would have hated it had he not been a Friend and known the sinfulness of hatred. But there were cattle lowing – it sounded as if something were wrong. Habit resumed its sway, and with anxiety over his cherished stock now re-awakened, he passed swiftly out.

“Oliver, thee has forgotten thy goloshes!” called his thoughtful spouse, but he paid her no heed, though commonly most careful to guard against his rheumatism.

“Who left that gate open? Who drove that cow – her calf – Child! is thee possessed?”

Mrs. Betty Calvert was a true prophet – the twins had certainly waked their grandsire up a bit! The explanation was simple, the disaster great. They had tired of the quiet living-room and had also stolen out of doors. Animals never frightened them and they were immediately captivated by the goodly herd of cattle in the pasture. To open the gate was easy; easy, too, to let free from its small shed a crying calf. Between one cow and the calf there seemed a close interest.

“We oughtn’t ha’ did that! That big cow’ll eat that little cow up. See Sapphi – Ruth, see them stairs? Let’s drive the little cow up the stair past the big wagons and keep it all safe and nice,” suggested Benjamin.

So they did; much to the surprise of the calf who bounded up the stairs readily enough, kicking its heels and cavorting in a most entrancing fashion; but when they tried to bar the big cow from following, she rushed past them and also ascended the stairs in a swift, lumbering manner. The relationship between the big and little cow now dawned even upon their limited intelligence, though there still remained the fear that the one would devour the other.

Then the twins turned and gazed upon one another, anxiety upon their faces; till spying the master of the premises most rapidly approaching they rushed to meet him, exclaiming:

“The little cow’s all safe but how will we get the big cow down?”

How, indeed! Oliver Sands was too angry to speak. For well he knew that it would require the efforts of all his force of helpers to drive that valuable Jersey down the stairs she had not hesitated to go up when driven by maternal love.

With one majestic wave of his hand the miller dismissed his grandchildren to the house and Dorcas; but so long and so hard he labored to lure that imprisoned quadruped from his carriage-loft, that, weary, he went early to bed and slept as he had not for nights. So, in that it seemed his “waking up” had proved a blessing.

CHAPTER XVII

THE STORY OF THE WORM THAT TURNED

The morning proved fair and cool, ideal weather for their visit to the County Fair; but Mrs. Calvert decided that a whole day there would be both inconvenient and too fatiguing. Now that she was at home the management of the House Party had been turned over to her by tacit consent, and she had laughingly accepted the trust.

“This was to be Dorothy’s affair, but it’s been more Mr. Winters’s than hers and now more mine than his. Well, I like it. I like it so exceedingly that I propose to repeat the experiment some time. I love young people; and am I not quite a young person myself?”

“Of course, you are, dear Aunt Betty! The youngest of us all in some things, Mr. Seth says!”

“So the farrier has been talking, eh? Well, I want to talk a bit, too. In a multitude of counselors there is wisdom – as we have the highest authority to believe; and the case in question is: Shall we, or shall we not, take Luna to the Fair?”

They were all grouped on the big piazza, after their early lunch, waiting for the wagons to come from the stables and carry them to the city beyond; and as Mrs. Betty asked this question a hush of surprise fell on them all. Finally, said Helena:

“We have taken her, she has gone with us, on all our jaunts. Doesn’t it seem too bad to leave her out of this?”

One after another as the lady nodded to each to speak the answer was frankly given, and Dorothy remarked:

“It’s about half-and-half, I guess. Yes, I know she does go to sleep in all sorts of queer places and at the strangest times, but I hate to leave her.”

“Then if she goes she must wear her own clothes.”

“Why, Aunt Betty, please? Of course, I don’t want to see her in that red frock again – I’d like to burn that up so nobody would ever see it and be reminded how careless and unjust I was. But there’s a pretty blue one she could have.”

“That’s not my reason, dearie. I think it has been a mistake, kindly meant, to dress her as you have; that is for longer than was necessary to freshen her own soiled things.” She paused and Alfy remarked:

“She’s the proudest thing for them bright colors. Red, and green, and blue – ary one just sets her smilin’. Besides, once Dinah tried to put back her old brown dress and Luna wouldn’t let her. Just folded her arms up tight and didn’t – didn’t look a mite pleasant.”

Those who had seen Luna on the rare occasions when she showed anger smiled at this mild description of her appearance then.

“I don’t know as Dinah would be bothered with her, Aunt Betty, and Norah has a sick headache. But – I’ll stay and take care of her if you don’t want her to go,” said Dorothy.

It was an effort to say this and dreading that her offer might be accepted the girl turned her face away to hide her disappointment; but whatever Mrs. Calvert’s answer might have been she was not to hear it then.

Because there was Jim Barlow beckoning to her in a mysterious manner from behind a great hydrangea bush and looking vastly excited over something. So it was a relief to murmur: “Excuse me a minute, Aunt Betty,” and to respond to that summons.

“Dolly, there’s a man here wants to see you.”

“A man? To see me? and not Aunt Betty? Who is he?”

Jim answered rather impatiently to this string of questions.

“I said a man, didn’t I. He said he’d rather see you because he knows you, that is you gave him a lift on the road once in your pony cart and talked real sensible – ”

“Couldn’t have meant me, then, could he, Jim?”

“Don’t fool, Dorothy. He looks as if he was in some trouble. He’s the head man from Oliver Sands’s grist-mill. Some relation to the miller, I’ve heard, and lives with him. Hurry up and don’t hender the raft of us any longer’n you can help. Tell him, whatever his business is, ’twill have to wait, ’t we’re going to the Fair and all the teams are ready – ”

“Yes, I’ll hurry. Where is he?”

“In that little summer-house beyond the lily pond. That’s where he said he’d go. Get rid of him quick, for the horses don’t like to stand after they’re harnessed.”

“All right, I’ll try!” Gayly waving her hand in the direction of the piazza, she sped across the lawn to a group of silver birches, and the spot in question. Solidly roofed, with vine covered sides, and good board floor, the out-of-door building was a pleasant place, and had been greatly enjoyed by all the House Party. It was well furnished with wicker tables, chairs, and lounges, and heavy matting covered the floor. It was empty now except for the old man awaiting Dorothy, and his first remark showed that he appreciated this bit of outdoor comfort.

“It’s real purty in here, ain’t it? Anybody could spend a night here and take no hurt, couldn’t she?”

“Why, ye-es, I suppose so; if anybody wished. James told me you asked for me. What is it, please, for we’re just on the point of starting for the County Fair, and I don’t like to delay the others.”

“Hmm. Yes. I suppose so. Hmm. Yes. Thee is the little girl that’s had such a story-paper kind of life, isn’t thee? Don’t remember me, but I do thee. Gave me a ride once after that little piebald nag thee swopped Oliver’s calf for. Thee sees I know thee, if thee has forgot me and how my floury clothes hit the black jacket thee wore, that day, and dusted it well, ‘Dusty miller’ thee laughed and called me, sayin’ that was some sort of plant grows in gardens. But I knew that. Dorcas has a whole bed of it under her kitchen window. Hmm. Yes.”