Marjorie's Maytime by Carolyn Wells

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"Do you remember, Molly," said Midget, "how we went out with Carter one
day, and he scolded us so because we bobbed about and paddled our hands
in the water?"

"Yes, I remember," and Molly laughed at the recollection. "Let's dabble
our hands now. May we, King?"

"Sure! I guess I can keep this boat right side up if you girls do trail
your hands in the water."

And so the two merry maidens dabbled their hands in the water, and
growing frolicsome, shook a spray over each other, and even flirted drops
into King's face. The boy laughed good-naturedly, and retaliated by
splashing a few drops on them with the tip end of his oar.

King was fond of rowing, and was clever at it, and being a large,
strong boy, it tired him not at all. Moreover, the boat was a light,
round-bottomed affair that rowed easily, and was not at all hard to
manage.

King's foolery roused the spirit of mischief in the two girls, and faster
and faster flew the drops of water from one to another of the
merrymakers.

"No fair splashing!" cried King. "Just a spray of drops goes."

"All right," agreed Marjorie, who was also a stickler for fair play, and
though she dashed the water rapidly, she sent merely a flying spray, and
not a drenching handful. But Molly was not so punctilious. She hadn't the
same instinct of fairness that the Maynards had, and half intentionally,
half by accident, she flung a handful of water straight in King's face.

This almost blinded the boy, and for a moment he lost control of his oar.
An involuntary move on his part, due to the shock of the water in his
face, sent the blade of one oar down deep, and as he tried to retrieve
it, it splashed a whole wave all over Molly.

But Molly thought King intended to do this, and that it was merely part
of the game, so with one of her lightning-like movements, she grasped
the blade of the oar in retaliation. The oar being farther away than she
thought, and rapidly receding, caused her to lean far over the boat, and
in his effort to get his oar again in position, King, too, leaned over
the side.

The result was exactly what might have been expected. The narrow,
clinker-built boat capsized, and in a moment the four children were
struggling in the water.

Even as the boat went over, King realized what had happened, and
realized, too, that he was responsible for the safety of the three girls.
With fine presence of mind he threw his arm over the keel of the upturned
boat and shouted, "It's all right, girls! Just hang on to the boat this
way, and you won't go down."

Marjorie and Molly understood at once, and did exactly as King told them.
They were terribly frightened, and were almost strangled, but they
realized the emergency, and struggled to get their arms up over the boat
in the manner King showed them.

But Kitty did not so quickly respond to orders. She had not been paying
any attention to the merry war going on in the stern of the boat, and
when she was suddenly thrown out into the water, she could not at first
collect her scattered senses. King's words seemed to convey no meaning to
her, and to his horror, the boy saw his sister sink down under the water.

"Hang on like fury, you two girls!" he shouted to Marjorie and Molly, and
then he made a dive for Kitty.

King was a good swimmer, but, hampered by his clothing, and frightened
terribly by Kitty's disappearance, he could not do himself justice. But
he caught hold of Kitty's dress, and by good fortune both rose to the
surface. King grabbed for the boat, but it slipped away from him, and
the pair went down again.

At this Marjorie screamed. She had been trying to be brave, yet the sight
of her brother and sister being, as she feared, drowned, was too much
for her.

"Hush up, Marjorie!" cried Molly. "You just keep still and hang on! I can
swim!"

With an eel-like agility Molly let go of the boat, and darted through the
water. She was really a good swimmer, and her thin, muscular little limbs
struck out frantically in all directions. Diving swiftly, she bumped
against Kitty, and grasping her arm firmly, she began to tread water
rapidly. As King was doing this on the other side of Kitty, the three
shot up to the surface, and King and Molly grasped the boat with firm
hands, holding Kitty between them.

Kitty was limp, but conscious; and though King was exhausted, he held on
to Kitty, and held on to the boat, with a desperate grip.

"Wait a minute, girls," he gasped, sputtering and stammering; "I'll be
all right in a minute. Now as long as you hold fast to the boat, you
know you can't drown! How are you getting along, Mops?"

"All right," called Marjorie from the other side of the boat; "but I want
to come over there by you."

"Don't you do it! You stay there and balance the boat. It's lucky you're
a heavyweight! Now you girls do exactly as I tell you to."

King did not mean to be dictatorial, but he was getting his breath back,
and he knew that although their heads were above water, still strenuous
measures were necessary.

"What shall we do?" shouted Marjorie.

"Well, we must try to get this boat to shore. And as we're much nearer
the other shore than our own side, we'll try to get it over there, for we
don't want to cross the river. Now hang on tight, and wiggle your feet
like paddles. If you kick out hard enough, I think we can get the old
thing ashore."

It wasn't an easy task, nor a quick one, but after a while, by vigorous
kicking, in accordance with King's continued directions, they did succeed
in reaching shallow water.

"Now we can walk," said King, "but we may as well hang on to the boat and
not let her drift away."

So half scrambling, half crawling, the children pushed through the
shallow water and up on to the shore, dragging the upturned boat with
them. The shore just here was shelving and sandy, otherwise it is
doubtful if they could have reached it at all. But at last four
shivering, dripping children stood on solid ground, and looked at each
other.

"You're an old trump, King," cried Marjorie, flinging her arms around
her brother's neck, and kissing his wet cheeks; "you're a hero, and a
life-saver, and a Victoria Cross, and everything!"

"There, there, Midget, come off! I didn't do anything much; Molly here
did the most, but, thank goodness, we all got out alive! Now what shall
we do next?"

Kitty had recovered entirely from her dazed and stunned feeling, and was
again her practical and helpful self.

"We must run," she said, "we must run like sixty! That's the only way to
keep from catching cold in these wet clothes!"

"Can't we build a fire, and dry ourselves?" asked Molly, who was
shivering with cold.

"No, of course not," said Kitty, "for we haven't any matches, and if we
had they'd be soaked. No, we must run as hard as we can tear along this
bank until we get opposite Grandma's house, and then they'll have to come
over and get us somehow."

"How'll they know we're there?" asked Molly.

"I'll yell," said Marjorie, quite confident of her powers in this
direction. "I'll yell,--and I just _know_ I can make Carter hear me!"

"I'll bet you can!" said King. "Come on then, let's run. Take hold of
hands."

With King and Midget at either end of the line, and the other two
between, they ran!

CHAPTER IX

ANCIENT FINERY

When the children reached the big open field that was just across the
river from Grandma Sherwood's, although their clothes had ceased
dripping, they were far from dry, and they all shivered in the keen
morning air.

"Yell away, Mopsy," cried King. "You can make Carter hear if anybody
can."

So Marjorie yelled her very best ear-splitting shrieks.

"Car-ter! Car-ter!" she screamed, and the others gazed at her in
admiration.

"Well, you _can_ yell!" said Molly. "I expect my people will hear that!"

After two or three more screams, they saw Carter come running down toward
the boathouse. Looking across the river, he saw the four children
frantically waving their hands and beckoning to him.

"For the land's sake! What is going on now?" he muttered, hurrying down
to the bank as fast as his rheumatic old legs would carry him.

"And the boat's gone!" he exclaimed; "now, however did them children get
over there without no boat? By the looks of their wet clothes they must
have swum over, but I don't believe they could do that. Hey, there!" he
shouted, making a megaphone of his hands.

"Come over and get us," Marjorie yelled back, and beginning to realize
the situation, Carter went into the boathouse and began to take out the
other boat. This was an old flat-bottomed affair, which had been unused
since Uncle Steve bought the new boat.

"Most prob'ly she leaks like a sieve," he muttered, as he untied the boat
and pushed it out; "but I've nothing else to bring the young rascals home
in. So they'll have to bail while I row."

Carter was soon in the old boat, and pulling it across the river. As he
had expected, it leaked badly, but he was sure he could get the children
home in it.

"Come on now!" he cried, as he beached the boat, and jumped out. "For the
land's sake, how did you get so wet? But don't stop to tell me now! Just
pile in the boat, and let me get you home to a fire and some dry clothes.
You'll all have to bail, for she leaks something awful."

Not waiting for a second invitation, the damp quartet scrambled into the
boat, and Carter pulled off. The old man had provided tin cans, and the
children bailed all the way over, for it was necessary to do so to keep
the boat afloat.

As they went, Marjorie told Carter the whole story, "and you see," she
concluded, "we didn't do anything wrong, for we're always allowed to go
in a boat if King is with us."

"Oh, no, Miss Mischief, you didn't do anything wrong! Of course it wasn't
wrong to jump about in the boat and carry on until you upset it! It's a
marvel you weren't all drowned."

"It is so!" said King, who realized more fully than the others the danger
they had been in. "Why, there's Uncle Steve on the dock, and Father, too;
I wonder if they heard Midget scream."

"If they were within a mile and not stone deaf they couldn't help hearing
her," declared Carter. He rowed as fast as he could, and he made the
children keep hard at work bailing, not only to get the water out of the
boat, but because he feared if they sat still they'd take cold.

At last they reached the dock, and Uncle Steve and Mr. Maynard assisted
them out of the boat.

It was no time then for questions or comments, and Uncle Steve simply
issued commands.

"Molly," he said, "you scamper home as fast as you can fly! We have
enough to attend to with our own brood. Scoot, now, and don't stop until
you reach your own kitchen fire, and tell your mother what has happened.
As for you Maynards, you fly to Grandma's kitchen, and see what Eliza can
do for you."

Molly flew off across the lawns to her own house, running so swiftly that
she was out of sight in a moment. Then the Maynards, obeying Uncle
Steve's command, ran to the kitchen door, and burst in upon Eliza as she
was just finishing the breakfast preparations.

"Howly saints!" she cried. "If it wasn't that I always ixpict yees to
come in drownded, I'd be sheared to death! But if yees weren't in this
mess, ye'd be in some other. Such childher I niver saw!"

Eliza's tirade probably would have been longer, but just then Grandma and
Mrs. Maynard came into the kitchen.

"Been for a swim?" asked Mrs. Maynard, pleasantly.

"Almost been drowned," said Kitty, rushing into her mother's arm, greatly
to the detriment of her pretty, fresh morning dress.

As soon as Mrs. Maynard realized that her brood had really been in
danger, she gathered all three forlorn, wet little figures into her arms
at once, thankful that they were restored to her alive.

Then breakfast was delayed while Grandma and Mother Maynard provided dry
clothing, and helped the children to transform themselves once more into
respectable citizens.

"Now tell us all about it, but one at a time," said Uncle Steve, as at
last breakfast was served, and they all sat round the table. "King, your
version first."

"Well, we all went out for an early morning row, and somehow we got to
carrying on, and that round-bottomed boat tipped so easily, that somehow
we upset it."

"It's a wonder you weren't drowned!" exclaimed Grandma.

"I just guess it is!" agreed Marjorie; "and we would have been, only King
saved us! Kitty _was_ 'most drowned, and King went down in the water and
fished her up, and Molly helped a good deal, and I stayed on the other
side and balanced the boat."

"The girls were all plucky," declared King, "and the whole thing was an
accident. It wasn't wrong for us to go out rowing early in the morning,
was it, Father?"

"I don't think it was the hour of the day that made the trouble, my son.
But are you sure you did nothing else that was wrong?"

"I did," confessed Marjorie, frankly. "I splashed water, and then the
others splashed water, and that's how we came to upset."

"Yes, that was the trouble," said Mr. Maynard; "you children are quite
old enough to know that you must sit still in a boat. Especially a
round-bottomed boat, and a narrow one at that."

"It was Molly's fault more than Midget's," put in Kitty, who didn't want
her adored sister to be blamed more than she deserved.

"Well, never mind that," said Marjorie, generously ignoring Molly's part
in the disaster. "There's one thing sure, Kitty wasn't a bit to blame."

"No," said King, "Kit sat quiet as a mouse. She wouldn't upset an
airship. Mopsy and I were the bad ones, as usual, and I think we ought to
be punished."

"I think so, too," said Mr. Maynard, "but as this is a vacation holiday I
hate to spoil it with punishments, so I'm going to wait until you cut
up your next naughty trick, and then punish you for both at once. Is that
a good plan, Mother?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Maynard, looking fondly at the culprits, "but I want to
stipulate that the children shall not go out in the boat again without
some grown person with them."

"I'm glad of that," said Marjorie, "for no matter how hard I try I don't
believe I could sit perfectly still in a boat, so I'll be glad to have
some grownup go along."

"That's my chance," exclaimed Uncle Steve, "I'll take you any time you
want to go, Midget, and I'll guarantee to bring you back without a
ducking."

"Thank you, Uncle Steve," said Marjorie; "shall we go right after
breakfast?"

"Not quite so soon as that, but perhaps to-morrow. By the way, kiddies,
what do you think of having a little party while you're here? That would
keep you out of mischief for half a day."

"Oh, lovely!" exclaimed Marjorie. "Uncle Steve, you do have the
beautifullest ideas! What kind of a party?"

"Any kind that isn't a ducking party."

"But we don't know anybody much to invite," said Kitty.

"Yes, I know quite a few," said Marjorie, "and King knows several boys;
and anyway, Molly and Stella will help us make out a list. How many
shall we have, Uncle Steve?"

"About twenty, I think, and I'll have a hand at that list myself. I know
most of the children around here. This afternoon get Molly and Stella to
come in after school, and we'll make the list. We can send the
invitations to-night, and have the party day after to-morrow. That's
warning enough for such young, young people."

"It seems to be your party, Steve," said Mrs. Maynard, smiling; "can't I
help you with the arrangements?"

"Yes, indeed; you and Mother can look after the feast part of it, but the
rest I'll attend to myself."

After breakfast the children were advised to stay indoors for a while,
lest they get into more mischief, and also until their elders felt that
there was no danger of their taking cold.

"Lucky we didn't have Rosy Posy with us," said King, picking up his
smallest sister, and tossing her up in the air.

"Don't speak of it," said his mother, turning pale at the thought; "and
don't ever take the baby on your escapades. She's too little to go
through the dangers that you older ones persist in getting into."

"Oh, we don't persist," said Marjorie, "the dangers just seem to come to
us without our looking for them."

"They do seem to, Midget," agreed Uncle Steve. "But you all seem to have
a happy-go-lucky way of getting out of them, and I think you're a pretty
good bunch of children after all."

"Listen to that!" exclaimed King, proudly, strutting about the room,
elated with the compliment. "It's worth while having an uncle who says
things like that to you," and the others willingly agreed with him.

Kept in the house, the children wandered about in search of amusement.
Kitty curled herself up on a sofa, with a book, saying she was determined
to keep out of mischief for once.

"Let's go up in the attic," said Midget to King, "and hunt over our old
toys that are put away up there. We might find some nice game."

"All right, come on," and in a minute the two were scrambling up the
attic stairs.

"Gracious! look at that big chest. I never saw that before. Wonder what's
in it," said Marjorie, pausing before a big cedar chest.

"Is it locked?" said King, and lifting the lid he discovered it wasn't.

But it was filled to the brim with old-fashioned garments of queer old
Quaker cut.

"Wouldn't it be fun to dress up in these," cried King.

"Yes," assented Marjorie, "but I'm not going to do it, until we ask
Grandma. I've had enough mischief for one day."

So King ran downstairs and asked Grandma, and soon came running back.

"She says we may," he announced briefly, "so let's choose our rigs."

They lifted out the quaint, old-fashioned clothes, and found there were
both men's and women's garments among them.

"Where do you suppose they came from?" asked Marjorie.

"Grandma said some old relative in Philadelphia sent her the chest, some
time ago, but she's never opened it."

They tried on various costumes, and pranced around the attic, pretending
they were ladies and gentlemen of bygone days.

Finally King tried on a woman's dress. It just fitted him, and when he
added a silk Shaker bonnet and a little shoulder shawl, the effect was so
funny that Marjorie screamed with laughter.

"All you want," she said, "is some false hair in the front of that
bonnet, and you'll be a perfect little old lady."

Then Marjorie ran down to Grandma, and asked her for some of her false
puffs, and getting them, flew back to the attic again, and deftly pinned
them inside of King's bonnet, transforming him into a sweet-faced Quaker
lady.

Then Marjorie arrayed herself as another Quaker lady, drawing her hair
down in smooth bands over her ears, which greatly changed the expression
of her face, and made her look much older. Each carried an old-fashioned
silk reticule, and together they went downstairs. After parading before
their admiring relatives, they decided to play a joke on Eliza. She had
not yet seen them, so they slipped downstairs and out the front door,
and then closing it softly behind them, they rang the bell.

Eliza came to the door, and utterly failed to recognize the children.

"Does Mrs. Sherwood live here?" asked King, in a thin, disguised voice.

"Yes, ma'am," said Eliza, not knowing the children, "but--" gazing in
surprise at the quaint, old-fashioned dresses and bobbing bonnets.

"Please tell her her two aunts from Philadelphia are here," said
Marjorie, but she could not disguise her voice as well as King, and Eliza
suddenly recognized it.

"Two aunts from Phillydelphy, is it?" she said. "More likes it's too
loonytics from Crazyland! What will ye mischiefs be cuttin' up next!
But, faith, ye're the bonny ould ladies, and if ye'll come in and take a
seat, I'll tell the missus ye're here."

But, having fooled Eliza, the fun was over in that direction, and the
Quaker ladies trotted away to make a call on Carter.

Just at first he didn't know them, and thought the two ladies were coming
to see him. But in a moment he saw who they were, and the good-natured
man entered at once into the game.

CHAPTER X

CALLING AT THE SCHOOLHOUSE

"Good-morning, ladies," he said, bowing gravely, "I'm very pleased to see
you. May I ask your names?"

"Mrs. William Penn and Mrs. Benjamin Franklin," said Marjorie, "and we
have come to look at your flowers."

"Yes, ma'am; they do be fine this year, ma'am. Happen you raise flowers
yourself?"

"No, not much," said King, "we don't raise anything."

"Except when you raise the mischief," declared Carter, laughing at
the prim faces before him. "I'm thinkin' if you'd always wear those
sober-colored dresses you mightn't lead such a rambunctious life."

"That's so," said King, kicking at his skirts. "But they're not easy to
get around in."

"I think they are," said Marjorie, gracefully swishing the long folds of
her silk skirt. "Come on, King, let's go over and see Stella; we haven't
seen her yet."

"Miss Stella's gone to school," Carter informed them. "I saw her go by
with her books just before nine o'clock. And if you ladies can excuse me
now, I'll be going back to my work. If so be ye fall in the river or
anything, just you scream, Miss Marjorie, and I'll come and fish you
out."

"We don't fall in twice in one day," said Marjorie, with dignity, and the
two Quaker ladies trailed away across the lawn.

They went down into the orchard, to pay a visit to Breezy Inn. This was
Marjorie's tree-house which Uncle Steve had had built for her the year
before.

But the rope ladder was not there, so they could not go up, and they
wandered on, half hoping they might meet somebody who would really think
they were Quaker ladies. Crossing the orchard, they came out on one of
the main streets of the town, and saw not far away, the school which
Stella and Molly attended.

Marjorie had a sudden inspiration. "Let's go to the school," she said,
"and ask for Stella and Molly!"

"Only one of them," amended King; "which one?"

"Stella, then. We'll go to the front door, and we'll probably see the
janitor, and we'll ask him to call Stella Martin down."

"I think we'd better send for Molly."

"No, Molly would make such a racket. Stella's so much quieter, and I
don't want to make any trouble."

They reached the schoolhouse, which was a large brick building of three
or four stories. The front door was a rather impressive portal, and the
children went up the steps and rang the bell.

"You do the talking, King," said Marjorie. "You can make your voice sound
just like an old lady."

The janitor appeared in answer to their ring, and looked greatly amazed
to see two old Quaker ladies on the doorstep. The children kept their
heads down, and the large bonnets shaded their faces.

"We want to see Miss Stella Martin," said King, politely, and the clever
boy made his voice sound like that of an elderly lady.

"Yes'm," said the janitor, a little bewildered. "Will you come in?"

"No," said King, "we won't come in, thank you. Please ask Miss Stella
Martin to come down here. Her two aunts from Philadelphia want to see
her."

The janitor partly closed the door, and went upstairs to Stella's
classroom.

"We fooled him all right!" chuckled King, "but what do you suppose Stella
will say?"

"I don't know," said Midget, thoughtfully; "you never can tell what
Stella will do. She may think it's a great joke, and she may burst out
crying. She's such a funny girl."

In a moment Stella came down. The janitor was with her, and opened the
door for her. As she saw the two Quaker figures her face expressed only
blank bewilderment.

"Who are you?" she asked, bluntly. "I haven't any aunts in Philadelphia."

"Oh, yes, you have," said King, in his falsetto voice, "Don't you
remember your dear Aunt Effie and Aunt Lizzie?"

"No, I don't," declared Stella, and then as she showed signs of being
frightened, and perhaps crying, Marjorie came to the rescue.

She hated to explain the joke before the janitor, but he looked
good-natured, and after all it was only a joke. So she threw back her
head, and smiled at Stella, saying, "Then do you remember your Aunt
Marjorie Maynard?"

"Marjorie!" exclaimed Stella. "What are you doing in such funny clothes?
And who is this with you,--Kitty?"

"No," said King, "it's Kingdon. I'm Marjorie's brother, and we're out on
a little lark."

"How did you ever dare come here?" and Stella's startled gaze rested on
them, and then on the janitor.

The janitor was a good-natured man, but he felt that this performance was
not in keeping with school discipline, and he felt he ought to send the
children away at once. But Marjorie smiled at him so winningly that he
could not speak sternly to her.

"I guess you'd better run along now," he said; "the principal wouldn't
like it if he saw you."

"Yes, we're going now," said Marjorie, "but I just wanted to speak to
Stella a minute. We're going to have a party, Stella, and I want you to
come over this afternoon and tell us who to invite."

"All right," said Stella; "I'll come right after school. And now do go
away. If my teacher should see you she'd scold me."

"She'd have no right to," said King. "You couldn't help our coming."

"No, but I can help staying here and talking to you. Now I must go back
to my classroom."

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