Marjorie's Maytime by Carolyn Wells

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"No, it wasn't," said King, "and it wasn't our fault either! It wasn't
anybody's fault; it just happened."

"And now it happens that it's all over," said his father, still
insistently cheerful, "and the incident is closed, and it's past history,
and we've all forgotten it. Have some more chicken, King?"

"Yes," said King, "these forgotten experiences make a fellow terribly
hungry!"

The subject of the morning's disaster was not again referred to, and Mr.
Maynard triumphantly succeeded in his determination to eliminate all
thought of it.

By two o'clock Pompton was at the door with the car, and they started
gaily off to continue their journey.

Mr. Maynard sat in front with the chauffeur, and if they indulged in some
whispered conversation it was not audible to those in the tonneau.

Midget and King themselves had quite recovered their good spirits, and
were ready to enjoy the ride through the country.

They went rather fast, as they had started a bit later than they
intended, but not too fast to enjoy the scenery or the interesting scenes
on either side.

On they went, through towns and villages, past woods and meadows, and up
and down moderately high hills. As they neared Morristown, where Grandma
Sherwood lived, the hills were higher and the views more picturesque.

It was not yet dusk when they reached Grandma Sherwood's house, and they
found the wide gate hospitably open for them. They swung into the
driveway, and in another moment they saw Grandma and Uncle Steve on the
veranda, waiting to welcome them.

The impetuous Maynard children tumbled out of the car all at once, and
fairly swarmed upon their relatives.

"Which is which?" cried Uncle Steve. "Kitty has grown as big as Marjorie
was,--and Marjorie has grown as big as King was,--and King has grown as
big as,--as a house!"

"And me growed!" cried Rosamond, not wanting to be left out of the
comparison.

"You're the biggest of all!" exclaimed Uncle Steve, catching the baby up
and seating her on his shoulder, so she could look down on all the
others.

"Yes, me biggest of all," she declared, contentedly, as she wound her fat
arms around Uncle Steve's neck; "now me go see schickens!"

"Not just now, Rosy Posy," said her mother, "let's all go in the house
and see what we can find there."

Easily diverted, the baby went contentedly with her mother, but the
mention of chickens had roused in the other children a desire to see the
farmyard pets, and King said: "Come on, Mops and Kit, let's us go and see
the chickens; come on, Uncle Steve."

"Eliza first!" cried Marjorie, remembering the old cook's friendliness
toward them all; "come on!"

Following Midget's lead, the trio went tearing through the house to the
kitchen.

Uncle Steve paused in the library where the others were, and said to his
sister, "They're the same Maynard children, Helen, if they are a year
older. We enjoyed Marjorie last summer, and I know we'll enjoy Kitty this
year,--but how you can live with them all at once I can't understand!"

"It's habit," said Mrs. Maynard, smiling, "you know, Steve, you can get
used to 'most anything."

"It seems to agree with you, Helen, at any rate," said Grandma Sherwood,
looking at her daughter's pink cheeks and bright eyes.

Meanwhile, the younger Maynards had reached the kitchen, and were dancing
round Eliza, with shouts of glee.

"Are you glad to see me again, Eliza?" asked Marjorie, flinging herself
into the arms of the stout Irishwoman.

"Glad is it, Miss Midget? Faith, I'm thot glad I kin hardly see ye fer
gladness! Ye've grow'd,--but I do say not so much as I expicted! But
Masther King, now he's as high as the church shpire! And as fer Miss
Kitty,--arrah, but she's the dumplin' darlin'! Stan' out there now, Miss
Kitty, an' let me look at yez! Och! but yer the foine gurrul! An' it's ye
thot's comin' to spend the summer. My! but the toimes we'll be havin'!"

It was a custom of the Maynards for one of the children to spend each
summer at Grandma Sherwood's, and as Marjorie had been there last year,
it was now Kitty's turn.

"Yes, I'm coming, Eliza," she said, in her sedate way, "but I'm not going
to stay now, you know; we're all going on a tour. But I'll come back here
the first of June, and stay a long time."

"Any cookies, Eliza?" asked King, apropos of nothing.

"Cookies, is it? There do be, indade! But if yez be afther eatin' thim
now, ye'll shpoil yer supper,--thot ye will! Here's one a piece to ye,
and now run away, and lave me do me worruk. Be off with yez!"

After accepting a cookie apiece, the children bounced out the back door
and down into the garden in search of Carter.

"We've come, Carter; we've come!" cried Marjorie, flinging open a door of
the green-house in which Carter was busy potting some plants.

"You don't say so, Miss Mischief! Well, I'm right down glad to see you!
And is this Master King? And Miss Kitty? Well, you all grow like weeds
after a rain, but I'll warrant you're as full of mischief as ever!"

"Kitty isn't mischievous," said Marjorie, who was proud of the sedate
member of the family.

"And it's Miss Kitty who's to spend the summer, isn't it? Well, then, I
won't have the times I had last year, pulling children up from down the
well,--and picking them up with broken ankles after they slid down the
roof! Nothing of that sort, eh?" Carter's eyes twinkled as he looked
at Marjorie, who burst into laughter at reminiscences.

"No, nothing of that sort, Carter; but we're all going to be here for a
few days, and we're going to give you the time of your life. Will you
take us out rowing in the boat?"

"I'll go along with you to make sure you don't drown yourself; but I
think you're getting big enough to do your own rowing. I'm not as young
as I was, Miss Midget, and I'm chock-full of rheumatism."

"Oh, we'd just as lieve row, Carter; King's fine at it, and I can row
pretty well myself."

But Kitty said: "I'm sorry you have rheumatism, Carter; I'll ask Mother
to give you something for it."

"Now that's kind and thoughtful of you, Miss Kitty. Miss Mischief, here,
would never think of that!" But, as Carter spoke, his eyes rested
lovingly on Marjorie's merry face.

"That's so, Carter," she said, a little penitently, "but do you know, I
think if you did take us rowing, it would limber up your arms so you
wouldn't have rheumatism!"

"Maybe that's so, Miss Mischief,--maybe that's so. Anyway, I'll try both
plans, and perhaps it'll help some. But I hear Eliza calling you, so
you'd all better skip back to the house. It's nearly supper time."

With a series of wild whoops, which were supposed to be indicative of the
general joy of living, the three Maynards joined hands, with Kitty in the
middle, and raced madly back to the house.

They all tried to squeeze through the back door at once, which proceeding
resulted in an athletic scrimmage, and a final burst of kicking humanity
into Eliza's kitchen.

"Howly saints! but ye're the noisy bunch!" was Eliza's greeting, and then
she bade them hurry upstairs and tidy themselves for supper.

CHAPTER VII

AN EARLY ESCAPADE

Marjorie and Kitty occupied the room that had been Marjorie's the summer
before. Another little white bed had been put up, and as the room was
large, the girls were in no way crowded.

Kitty admired the beautiful room, but in her quiet way, by no means
making such demonstrations of delight as Marjorie had when she first saw
it. Also Kitty felt a sort of possession, as she would return later and
occupy the room for the whole summer.

"Lots of these things on the shelf, Midget, I shall have taken away," she
said, as the girls were preparing for bed that same night; "for they're
your things, and I don't care about them, and I want to make room for my
own."

"All right, Kit, but don't bother about them now. When you come back in
June, put them all in a big box and have them put up in the attic until I
come again. I only hope you'll have as good a time here as I had last
summer. Molly Moss and Stella Martin are nearer my age than yours, but
you'll like them, I know."

"Oh, I know Molly, but I don't remember Stella."

"You'll prob'ly like Stella best, though, 'cause she's so quiet and
sensible like you. Molly's a scalawag, like me."

"All right," said Kitty, sleepily, for she was too tired to discuss the
neighbors, and very soon the two girls were sound asleep.

It was very early when Marjorie awoke the next morning. Indeed, the sun
had not yet risen, but the coming of this event had cast rosy shadows
before. The east was cloudily bright, where the golden beams were trying
to break through the lingering shades of night, and the scattering clouds
were masses of pink and silver.

When Marjorie opened her eyes, she was so very wide awake that she knew
she should not go to sleep again, and indeed had no desire to. The days
at Grandma's would be few and short enough anyway, and she meant to
improve every shining minute of them, and so concluded to begin before
the minutes had really begun to shine.

She hopped out of bed, and, not to wake Kitty, went very softly to the
window, and looked out. Across the two wide lawns she could see dimly the
outlines of Stella's house, half-hidden by trees, and beyond that she
could see the chimneys and gables of Molly's house. She watched the sun
poking the tip edge of his circumference above a distant hill, and the
bright rays that darted toward her made her eyes dance with sympathetic
joy.

"Kitty," she whispered, not wanting to wake her sister, yet wishing she
had somebody to share with her the effect of the beautiful sunrise.

"You needn't speak so softly, I'm wide awake," responded Kitty, in her
matter-of-fact way; "what do you want?"

"I want you, you goosey! Hop out of bed, and come and see this
gorgiferous sunrise!"

Slowly and carefully, as she did everything, Kitty folded back the
bedcovers, drew on a pair of bedroom slippers, and then put on a kimona
over her frilled nightgown, adjusting it in place and tying its blue
ribbon.

"Gracious, Kit! What an old fuss you are! The sun will be up and over and
setting before you get here!"

"I'd just as lieve see a sunset as a sunrise, anyway," declared Kitty, as
she walked leisurely across the room, just in time to see the great red
gold disc tear its lower edge loose from the hill with what seemed almost
to be a leap up in the air.

But once at the window, she was as enthusiastic in her enjoyment of the
breaking day as Marjorie, though not quite so demonstrative.

"Put on a kimona, Midget," she said at last; "you'll catch cold flying
around in your night dress."

"Kit," said her sister, unheeding the admonition, and sitting down on the
edge of her bed as she talked, "I've the most splendiferous plan!"

"So've I," said Kitty; "mine is to go back to bed and sleep till
breakfast time."

"Pooh! you old Armadillo! Mine's nothing like that."

"Why am I an Armadillo?" asked Kitty, greatly interested to know.

"Because you want to sleep so much."

"That isn't an Armadillo, that's an Anaconda."

"Well, you're it anyway; and it ought to be Armadillo, because it rhymes
with pillow! But now, you just listen to my plan. Seem's if I just
couldn't wait any longer to see Molly and Stella, and I'm going to dress
right, straight, bang, quick! and go over there. Come on."

"They won't be awake."

"Of course they won't; that's the fun of it! We'll throw little pebbles
up at their windows, and wake them up, and make them come out."

"Well, all right, I will." Kitty reached this decision after a few
moments' consideration, as Marjorie felt sure she would. Kitty usually
agreed to her older sister's plans, but she made up her mind slowly,
while Midget always reached her conclusions with a hop, skip, and jump.

So the girls began to dress, and in a very few minutes they were
buttoning each other's frocks and tying each other's hair ribbons.

Marjorie had invented a way by which they could tie each other's hair
ribbons at the same time, but as it oftenest resulted in pulled hair and
badly made bows, it was not much of a time-saver after all.

"But I do think, Kit," she said, "being in such haste this morning, we
might manage to button each other's dresses at the same time. Stand back
to back and let's try."

The trial was a decided failure, and resulted only in a frolic, after
which the buttoning was done separately and successfully.

"And anyway, we're not in such a hurry," commented Kitty, "and don't ever
try that stunt again, Mopsy. My arms are nearly twisted off!"

"All right, Kit, I won't. Now are you ready? Come on; don't make any
noise; we don't want to wake anybody."

They tiptoed downstairs, and as a greater precaution against waking the
sleeping grownups, they went through the kitchen, and out at the back
door, which they easily unbolted from the inside.

"We'll have to leave this door unfastened," said Marjorie. "I hope no
burglars will get in."

"Of course they won't; burglars never come around after sunrise. Oh,
isn't it lovely to smell the fresh morningness!"

Kitty stood still, and sniffed the clear, crisp air, while the
exhilarating effects of the atmosphere caused Marjorie to dance and
prance in circles round her quieter sister.

"When you've sniffed enough, come on, Kit," she said, dancing away toward
Stella's house.

Kitty came on, and soon they stood on the greensward directly beneath
Stella's bedroom window.

The morning was very still, and the Martins' house looked forbidding,
with its silent, closed-up air. It was not yet half-past five, and not
even the servants were stirring.

Marjorie's courage failed her. "I guess we won't try Stella first," she
whispered to Kitty. "Stella's so scary. Once I just said '_boo_' at
her, and she cried like fury. If we fire pebbles at her window, like as
not she'll think it's a burglar and have yelling hysterics."

"Burglars don't throw pebbles to wake people up."

"Well, Stella's just as likely to think they do. You never can tell what
Stella's going to think, or what she's going to do, either. Anyway, let's
go to Molly's first; you can't scare her."

"All right," agreed Kitty, and hand in hand the two girls trudged on to
the next house.

"I believe I'll get up every morning at five o'clock," said Marjorie; "it
is so fresh and green and wet."

"Yes, it's awful wet," said Kitty, looking at her shoes; "but it's a
delicious kind of a wetness. Dew is awful different from rain."

"Yes, isn't it; dew makes you think of fairies and,--"

"And spiders," said Kitty, kicking at one of the spider webs with which
the grass was dotted.

"Well, I think spiders are sort of fairies," said Marjorie, looking
lovingly at the glistening webs; "They must be to weave such silky,
spangly stuff."

"They weave it for the fairies, Mops. They weave it in the night; and
then about sunrise, the fairies come and gather up the silky, spangly
stuff, and take it away to make their dresses out of it. See, they're
most all gone now."

"Pooh! the sun dried them up."

"No, he didn't; the fairies came and took them away. Of course you can't
see the fairies, and that's why people think the sun dries up the webs."
Kitty spoke as one with authority, and into her eyes came the faraway
look that always appeared when her imagination was running riot. For a
really practical child, Kitty had a great deal of imagination, but the
two traits never conflicted.

"This is Molly's window," said Marjorie, dismissing the question of
fairies as they reached Mr. Moss's house.

"Why don't you whistle or call her?" suggested Kitty.

"No, that might wake up her father and mother. And besides, throwing
pebbles is lots more fun. Let's get a handful from the drive. Get both
hands full."

In a moment four little hands were filled with pebbles.

"Wait a minute," said thoughtful Kitty; "let's pick out the biggest ones
and throw them away. Some of these big stones might break a window."

So the girls sat down on the front steps and carefully assorted their
pebbles until at last they had their hands filled with only the tiniest
stones.

"Now the thing is to throw straight," said Marjorie.

"You throw first," said Kitty, "and then I'll follow."

Like a flash, Marjorie's right hand full of pebbles clattered against
Molly's window, and was swiftly followed by a second shower from Kitty's
right hand. Then they shifted the pebbles in their left hand to their
right, and, swish! these pebbles followed the others.

But though the Maynard children were quick, Molly Moss was quicker. At
the first pebbles she flew out of bed and flung up the window, raising
the sash just in time to get the second lot distributed over her own face
and person.

"Oh, Molly, have we hurt you?" called out Kitty, who realized first what
they had done.

"No, not a bit! I knew the minute I heard the pebbles it was you girls.
I'm awful glad to see you! Shall I get dressed and come out?"

"Yes, do!" cried Marjorie, who was hopping up and down on one foot in her
excitement. "Will it take you long to dress?"

"No, indeed; I'll be down in a jiffy. Just you wait a minute."

It might have been more than a minute, but it wasn't much more, when the
girls heard a rustling above them, and looked up to see Molly, fully
dressed, climbing out of the window.

"Oh, Molly, you'll break your neck!" cried Kitty, for Molly was already
descending by a rose trellis that was amply strong enough for a climbing
rose, but which swayed and wabbled frightfully tinder the weight of a
climbing girl.

However, Molly didn't weigh very much, and she had the scrambling ability
of a cat, so in a few seconds she was down on the ground, and embracing
the two Maynard girls both at once.

"You're perfect ducks to come over here so early! How did you get away?"

"Slid out the back door," said Marjorie; "isn't it larky to be around so
early in the morning?"

"Perfectly fine! How long are you girls going to stay?"

"Not quite a week, I think," said Kitty, and Marjorie added, "So we want
to cram all the fun we can into these few days, and so we thought we'd
begin early."

"All right," said Molly, taking her literally, "let's begin right now."

"Oh, we can't do anything now," said Marjorie, "that is, nothing in
p'ticular."

"Pooh! yes, we can! It's only about half-past five, and we don't have
breakfast till eight, do you?"

"Yes, Grandma has it at eight," said Marjorie, "but, gracious, I'll be
starved to death by that time! I'm so hungry now I don't know what to
do!"

"I'll tell you what," began Kitty, and upon her face there dawned that
rapt expression, which always appeared when she was about to propose
something ingenious.

"What?" cried Midget and Molly, both at once.

"Why," said Kitty, impressed with the greatness of her own idea, "let's
have a picnic!"

"Picnic!" cried Marjorie, "before breakfast! At half-past five in the
morning! Kit, you're crazy!"

"No, I'm not crazy," said Kitty, seriously, and Molly broke in, "Of
course she isn't! It's a grand idea!"

"But you can't have a picnic without things to eat," objected Marjorie.

"We'll have things to eat," declared Kitty, calmly.

"Where'll you get 'em?"

"Kitchen."

"Kit, you're a genius! Prob'ly Eliza's pantry is just chock-a-block with
good things! And as I know they were made for us, we may as well eat
some now."

Then Molly had an inspiration. "I'll tell you what," she cried, "let's go
on the river! in the boat!"

CHAPTER VIII

AN EXCITING PICNIC

Molly's suggestion was so dazzling that Midget and Kitty were struck dumb
for a moment. Then Marjorie said, "No, Grandma won't let us girls go on
the river alone, and Carter isn't up yet."

"Let's throw pebbles and wake him up," said Molly.

"No," said Kitty, "it's too bad to wake him up early, because he needs
his rest. He has to work hard all day, and he has the rheumatism besides.
But I'll tell you what," and again Kitty's face glowed with a great idea;
"let's go and throw pebbles at King's window, and make him take us out
rowing."

"Kitty, getting up early in the morning agrees with your brain!" declared
Marjorie. "We'll do just that,--and while King is dressing, we'll pack
a basket of things to eat. Oh, gorgeous! Come on, girls!"

And clasping hands, the three ran away toward Grandma Sherwood's house.

"What about Stella?" asked Marjorie, as they passed her house.

"Oh, don't try to get her," said Molly; "she'd be scared to death if you
pebbled her, and her mother and father would think the house was on fire
or something."

So Stella was not included in the picnic, and the three conspirators ran
on, and never paused until they were beneath King's window.

"You don't need a whole handful for him," advised Kitty. "I expect he's
awake, anyway, and one pebble will make him come to the window. See, the
window's open anyway; we can just fling a pebble in."

"If we can aim straight enough," said Molly.

After one or two vain attempts, Kitty sent a good-sized pebble straight
through the open window, and it landed on the floor straight beside
King's bed.

In another moment a tousled head and a pair of shoulders, humped into a
bathrobe, appeared at the window.

Seeing the girls, King's face broke into a broad grin. "Well, you do beat
all!" he cried. "Have you been out all night?"

"No," called Kitty, "we're just playing around in the morning. It's
perfectly lovely out, King, and we're going to have a picnic, rowing on
the river. But we can't go unless you'll come too, so bob into your
clothes and come, won't you?"

"You bet I will! Isn't anybody up?"

"Nobody but us," said Marjorie; "so don't make any noise. Slide down the
back stairs and through the kitchen."

"Got any feed for your picnic?"

"We're going to get some. You hurry down and we'll be ready."

"All right," and the tousled head disappeared. The girls went noiselessly
into the kitchen and on through into the pantry. As Marjorie had
surmised, the pantry shelves were well-stocked, and they found doughnuts,
little pies, and cold chicken in abundance. Kitty found a goodly-sized
basket, and remembering King's appetite, they packed it well.

"Here's some hard-boiled eggs," cried Marjorie, "let's take these."

"I 'spect Eliza wants them for salad or something," said Kitty, "but she
can boil more. We must take some milk, Midget."

"Yes, here's a big pitcher full. Let's put it in a tin pail to carry it.
The milkman will be here in time for breakfast."

And so when King came softly downstairs, with his shoes in his hand, he
found the luncheon basket packed, and the feminine portion of the picnic
all ready to start.

"Good work!" he said, approvingly, as he lifted the basket, greatly
pleased with its size and weight.

Molly carried the milk pail, Kitty some glasses and Marjorie some napkins
and forks, for she was of a housewifely nature, and liked dainty
appointments.

"Maybe we ought to leave a note or something," said Kitty, as they
started.

"Saying we've eloped," said King, grinning.

"Don't let's bother," said Marjorie; "they'll know we're just out playing
somewhere, and we'll be back by breakfast time,--it isn't six o'clock
yet."

"You won't want any breakfast after all this stuff," said Molly, whose
appetite was not as robust as the Maynards'.

"'Deed we will!" declared King; "this little snack is all right for six
o'clock, but I have an engagement at eight in the dining-room."

They trudged along to the boathouse, and, as they might have expected,
found it locked.

"I'll get it," said Molly; "I'm the swiftest runner, and I know where the
key hangs in Carter's workshop."

King watched Molly admiringly as she flew across the grass, her long,
thin, black legs flinging out behind her with incredible quickness.

"Jingo, she can run!" he exclaimed, and indeed it seemed but a moment
before Molly flashed back again with the key.

The quartet was soon in the boat, and with a few strokes, King pulled out
into mid-stream.

"Let's have the picnic first," he said, shipping his oars. "I can't row
when I'm so hungry. This morning air gives a fellow an appetite."

"It does so," agreed Marjorie; "and we girls have been out 'most an hour.
I'm 'bout starved."

So they held a very merry picnic breakfast, while the boat drifted along
with the current, and the cold chicken and biscuits rapidly disappeared.

"Now, where do you girls want to go?" asked King, as, the last crumb
finished, Kitty carefully packed the napkins and glasses back in the
basket.

"Oh, let's go to Blossom Banks," said Marjorie, "that is, if there's time
enough."

"We'll go down that way, anyhow," said King, "and if it gets late we'll
come back before we get there. Anybody got a watch?"

Nobody had, but all agreed they wouldn't stay out very long, so on they
went, propelled by King's long, strong strokes down toward Blossom Banks.

It was a delightful sensation, because it was such a novel one. To row on
the river at six o'clock in the morning was a very different proposition
from rowing later in the day. Molly and Marjorie sat together in the
stern, and Kitty lay curled up in the bow, with her hands behind her
head, dreamily gazing into the morning sky.

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