 CHAPTER 18 Master Daniel Ross Sanderson, descendant of a revolutionary ancestor, struggled manfully with an almost overpowering desire to confide in his good friends, Jock and Eunice, the exciting purport of his Seacrest. But with Ruth's constant reminders and his father's repeated statement that if the people knew about it beforehand, all the best part of the fun would be spoiled, he had managed to bottle up the effervescing knowledge of what was to come. But in due time he had the satisfaction of being the bearer of the invitations for the all-important event. Ruffles tied blue ribbons to Chrysanthemum's bridle, and Danny rode off, a basket on his arm, accompanied by James, and left at each house the dainty card which Ruffles had given much time and thought to decorating. Danny was wild with excitement, for I want you to understand that this was to be his party, and he made such a dash for the captains, which was the first house where an invitation was to be delivered, that he almost upset his apple-cart. Mary and Auntie Frost, seeing the gala appearance of Danny and Kissam, went to the steps to greet him. How gay you are, Daniel Ross Sanderson, said Mary, and Kissam looks very handsome in blue. He's had an extra polish to his coat this morning. She continued, softly stroking the pony's neck. Why, what's this? An envelope for me. Is it a letter? Open it! cried Danny, with dancing lights in his brown eyes. So Mary leaned against Kissam's shoulder and read. Auntie Frost and Uncle Captain and Mistress Mary are invited to attend a pine needle party at Seldom Inn on Wednesday, the 27th day of August, 1910, from four to eight thirty o'clock. Then on a separate small card in a queer, bold, irregular printing was Danny's own name. Just listen to that, mother, we're invited to a party. Mary was one of those fortunate people who do not forget what it is to be young, and how very, very important such an event is. So her face reflected such a sympathetic joy of anticipation that Danny couldn't resist throwing his arms round her neck. He squeezed her tight and kissed her. Well, Danny, we'll all come early and stay till the very last minute, declared Mrs. Frost. Then Danny looked wistfully at Peter Pan, who sat bolt upright on the piazza post, his front paws close together with his tail curled round them, his chin well back on the snow white of his shirt front, and an expression of conscious satisfaction with his own general appearance. I wish Peter could come too, he yearned. Master Danny, if you stay here too long we shan't get around, suggested James. All right, James, but I got to give one to Eunice. Danny rode kiss him up to the open kitchen window, put his head in, and called loudly. Wait till I wipe my hands, there's a deer. What is it anyway? came the response. An invitation to my party. Me, invited to a party, said Eunice, amazed. Of course, said Danny, and jocks coming too. Well, well, sure I'll come. Guess likely you'll want some help in the kitchen. No, you're to be in the party. You wait and see, and there's going to be muesliq. My land! Eunice's hands went up and pretended astonishment. But again James broke in, and Danny turned away toward the parries. He found it hard work not to linger with each one, but James laid down the law and hurried Danny from house to house. It was near the end of the summer, and Danny had made friends with all the village people. There was the doctor, the postmaster, the cobbler, and the storekeeper. Besides the Simpkins's, jock-tuttle, of course the Stirlings and many others. And now, at last, the great day itself dawned clear and bright. How many pairs of bright eyes opened wide on awakening to glance eagerly out at the weather signs. Betty Marsh was especially anxious, for she had spent so many hours in training the dancers, and had done all in her power to make Mr. Sanderson's generous treat a success. Professional decorators from Boston, under the direction and supervision of Ruth and Richard, had transformed the picturesque point of land into a veritable fairy land. By half after four o'clock the guests had all been received and were now gathered together, seated in a semi-circle facing an open space in the grove where a low platform had been constructed and then strewn with pine needles to conceal its artificiality from view. An orchestra was gaily playing ragtime which set all the feet tapping, thereby causing a cessation of industry among the ants and tiny spiders who scuttled away in alarm. There was a general air of expectancy and curiosity as to just what form the entertainment would take. But at last a signal was given, the orchestra stopped, and a piano, cleverly hidden behind some thick spruce trees, struck up the alluring gay air of merry old England always played for the Morris on. There was a stir among the guests, and a stretching of necks to get a good view, as a line of gay dancers was seen to be coming down the path, with a one, two, three hop, every foot touching the ground in unison, each hand waving a handkerchief with abandon, and faces beaming. Who should be leading the dance but Danny himself with Nancy for a partner, the tiniest ones of all? A loud murmur of ooze and oz, and did you-evers, and well I never's, rose among the audience. Just behind Danny and Nancy came Elise and Howard Sterling, each couple following being a trifle taller than the one immediately proceeding. Twenty-four couples in all. There were bells on the slippers of the tiny girls and the maids, and on the knees of the boys and men. Quaint old-fashioned costumes, short-waisted dresses with white kerchiefs and becoming sunbonnets tied under the chin worn by the maids. Knickerbockers, frilled shirts, and queer old hats with bands of bright ribbon topped the gay attire of the men and boys. The tinkle of the bells on knees and feet told of the careful training Betty had given to keep the time perfect. On they came waving and smiling at the audience, down the right front of the enclosed space circling the front, then back and separating, some grouping themselves to the right of the space dropping onto rustic seats or on the ground in front. Girls at the left forming a picture on and around a haystack, both groups making charming tableaus. In the meantime three couples had formed in the center for shepherd's hay. With scarcely a pause in the music the dance was in full swing, down and back, turn, up and back, face, clapping, go and come, and so on to the double-quick time at the close with all hands up and a yell. The applause was enthusiastic enough to satisfy one and all, but no repetitions could be given as the dances had been planned to fill in just the right amount of time. Shepherd's hay was followed by Riggs Omarlo. Then six boys gave Bean's setting a quaint old dance typifying the planting of beans. Ruffles and Richard made a special hit in their leading of Ladinum Bunches, one of the most vigorous of all the dances with its difficult capers. But there was a breathless excitement when Danny and Nancy led four other children through the charming graceful steps of Prince's Royal. Nancy was as light as a bit of thistle down on her feet, and Danny's curls bobbed in time to the tinkle of the bells. Perhaps the most entrancing of all was Danny's bow in response to Nancy's quaint curtsy, bending low a slight step to the right, drawing back the pointed left foot and a swing of his right hand to his heart with all the earnestness of a cavalier of old. Jock's large work-hardened hands woke the echoes, and a tear stole slowly down Mrs. Frost's soft cheek, a tear of appreciation for the wonderful beauty of childhood and its grace and pure joy. The dancing ended with the whole long line of couples skipping through the kaleidoscopic ribbon dance to the tune of Pop Goes the Weasel. When the last couple had skipped down the line, under the arch to the bottom, the piano slid into the halting rhythm of Morris Off, where the somewhat weary dancers take a walking step on the toes, dropping to heel at every fourth note, languidly waving their handkerchiefs in farewell to the guests, they marched around and off down the path whence they came. Just as soon as they were out of sight, the ranks broke and the girls and boys rushed back to mingle with the other guests and helped to steer them toward the large tent in the rear of the grove, where salads, sandwiches, ices, and delicacies of all kinds were served at small tables for those who wished to be seated, many of the young people preferring to scatter in groups, the boys gallantly hastening to and fro with plates generously loaded. Mr. Sanderson conducted the captain's lady, stately in her heavy black brocaded satin, with its sweeping train and exquisite duchess lace collar, to a seat of honour. The captain offered his arm with a low bow to Ruth and Richard gaily piloted Mary. It was a merry party. Danny was busy tripping about, the bells on his knees tracing his progress hither and thither from one guest to another. But finally he settled down beside Mistress Mary and became very intent on the best method of eating attempting ice in the shape of a pear. He tried taking it in his fingers as he would the real fruit and found that altogether too frigid. Then he attempted to lift it by the stem which forthwith pulled out much to his disgust. How do you eat the old thing anyway? he asked. Mary placed a spoon in Danny's chubby fingers and laughingly lifted a bite to his rosy mouth. Danny snuggled closer yet to Mary and she fed him, calling him her little robin. I wish, he said, softly patting her cheek. You'd come to Crawlerado when we go home and sleep in Ruffle's bed. She's not going to be there when we go back. It was a very, very wistful little tone of voice in which Danny said it. Mr. Sanderson, sitting on the other side of Mary, smiled quietly to himself and took a sly glance at the red creeping up Mary's neck just back of the ear that was all he could see at that moment. Captain Frost turned to his host and said, Mr. Sanderson, our people will never forget this night. It will be talked of for years to come. Look at our good doctor and his brow! There isn't a face here that isn't beaming with happiness. It was a democratic gathering. None of the natives had been forgotten. They and the cottagers mingled and laughed with a friendly spirit of camaraderie. Jock and Eunice had lingered on the outskirts, withdrawing timidly, but they were soon drawn into the midst for their friends were many. It was the spirit of the summertime and camp life when petty distinctions are forgotten. Dewey was in her element. Anything in the nature of an entertainment was dear to her heart. Arrayed simply in a becoming black dress with immaculate white collar, cuffs, and apron, she was busy seeing that all were served as they should be. Catching sight of her as she came out from the house, Nat Sterling called to her from where he sat atop of a rustic fence near a group of young people. Joy, but do you look swagger? You're as tall and slim and graceful as the light gazelle. Dewey cast him aside long glance from her snapping black eyes, stopped, considered, and replied, Well, that's a pretty roundabout way of calling a body a deer, but just to make the title good I bet you I can clear that fence hereon at a running jump. Oh, come now, to be a pity to break your slender neck in that fashion. Danny still needs his Dewey, remember? Dewey stepped back, laid the tray that she was carrying on the ground, measured the distance with her eye, ran five or six steps, and cleared the top rail at a leap clean and slick. Amidst a round of applause, she coyly fled, forgetting her tray. Twilight deepened quickly to dusk and slowly the moon rose, a large yellow ball off across the water. The guests scattered at will. There was nobody present who was not having a good time, for the young people had given Mr. Sanderson their word that they would take special pains to see that everyone was looked out for and well entertained. It had been a very exciting day, and very much out of the ordinary run of the well regulated life of the extremely young host. In spite of his valiant efforts to keep his eyes wide open, the lids were fast becoming unmanageably heavy with sleep. He was strolling about the outskirts of the crowd with one hand in Mary's and the other in his father's, when Dewey came to find him. Danny lifted his arms and said with a restful little sigh, Take me, Dewey! Yes, little Cap, I thought you'd be about ready to come to Dewey. Very sleepily the little fellow offered his rosy mouth for a good night kiss, first to Mary and then to his father, then his head drooped to Dewey's shoulder and his eyes closed. Thus she bore him away to dreamland, with a finger on her lips to warn the guests not to awaken him as she threaded her way toward the house, so only whispered good nights and loving glances followed his departure. Mary and Mr. Sanderson watched him out of sight. The wonderful strains of Rubenstein's music of the spheres stole to them through the trees with soul-stirring effect, and without a word they stood till the last strain had quivered to silence. Then Mary turned to her companion. I feel as though I had been lifted up off the earth for just a while. I wish we didn't have to come down so soon. Mr. Sanderson smiled into the depths of her eyes, still glowing with the emotional satisfaction of a music lover. I think I can take you to a spot where sight shall give you a delight equal to that just now produced by sound. I discovered a place where this can all be seen at its very best. Will you come? It is all so lovely, she sighed, but if there is some special point of vantage I shall be glad to go there. You had better take my arm, he suggested, for although the night is bright the footing is treacherous in places. With the spell of the moonlight upon them they traversed quite a bit of woodland to the edge of the point which ended rather abruptly with a descent of from ten to twelve feet to the beach below. Do you mind a bit of a scramble down here? he asked. Mary laughed a little rippling trill. No indeed, I've done it many a time. Together he, with a guiding hand, they made the descent laughing and slipping. Now I'm going to ask you to look straight ahead, off across the bay, till we reach the point I have in mind, so that you may see it as a separate picture in the best light. All right, I promise not to peek. The view out there isn't to be sneezed at, and her eyes follow the pathway the moon made for itself over the glistening, rippling water. They walked the rest of the way over the soft sands in silence, the music of the orchestra still reaching them with the mellow, soft and defective distance. Finally he stopped. Now you may look, he said, releasing her arm. Mary turned. Her exclamation was scarcely more than a breath. They stood together facing a wide, sweeping curve of beach where the waves were breaking with a soft splash and running in white ranks of bubbling phosphorescence one after another. This was the foreground of the wonderful picture. Then sharply outlined against the sky rose the point of land crested with swaying, colored lights, the deep blue shadows of the trees, and groups of silhouetted, moving forms, and overall the gentle, beneficent, soft light of the full moon. Is it as beautiful as I implied? he asked, stepping closer to her side. Far more than I ever imagined. Almost too beautiful, she murmured, for sometimes beauty is so great it almost hurts. For some moments they stood in silence, the scene making a lasting, never-to-be-forgotten impression on both their minds. Miss Mary. His deep, quiet voice broke the stillness. Miss Mary, do you realize what you have been to me, and to Ruth, and to Danny, what your presence has come to mean to me? Could you—oh, Mary!—he put his arms about her and lifted her face that he might look into her eyes. Could you learn to love me? Then without waiting for an answer he continued. Look, look at those two figures at the left up there, and he gently turned her face again toward the point of land where clearly defined were the unmistakable figures of Ruth and Richard. They were throwing stones in the water below. They were always together, just as jolly good friends, but would it always be so? Mary said not a word, but she slipped her hand in his, and made a little confiding movement, and gently the mantle of ruffles descended to her shoulders. End of Ruffles and Danny or the Responsibility of Ruffles by Marjorie Watson, recorded by Tricia G. Thanks for listening.