 21 The Peterkins were in quite a muddle, for them, about the Carnival of Authors to be given in Boston. As soon as it was announced, their interests were excited, and they determined that all the family should go. But they conceived a wrong idea of the entertainment, as they supposed that everyone must go and cost him. Elizabeth Eliza thought their lessons in the foreign languages would help them much in conversing in character. As the Carnival was announced early, Solomon John thought that there would be time to read up everything written by all the authors, in order to be acquainted with the characters they introduced. Mrs. Peterkin did not wish to begin too early upon the reading, for she was sure she should forget all that the different authors had written before the day came. But Elizabeth Eliza declared that she should hardly have time enough, as it was to be acquainted with all the authors. She'd given up her French lessons after taking six for one of time, and had, indeed, concluded she had learned in them all she should need to know of that language. She could repeat one or two pages of phrases, and she was astonished to find how much she could understand already of what the French teacher said to her, and he assured her that when she went to Paris she could at least ask the price of gloves, or some other things she would need, and he taught her too how to pronounce garçon in calling for more. Agamemnon thought that different members of the family might make themselves familiar with different authors. The little boys were already acquainted with Mother Goose. Mr. Peterkin had read the Pickwick papers, and Solomon John had actually seen Mr. Longfellow getting into a horse car. Elizabeth Eliza suggested that they might ask the Turk to give lectures upon the Arabian Nights. Everybody else was planning something of the sort to raise funds for some purpose, and she was sure they ought not to be behindhand. Mrs. Peterkin approved of this. It would be excellent if they could raise funds enough to pay for their own tickets to the carnival, then they could go every night. Elizabeth Eliza was uncertain. She thought it was usual to use the funds for some object. Mr. Peterkin said that if they gained funds enough they might arrange a booth of their own and sit in it, and take the carnival comfortably. But Agamemnon reminded him that none of the family were authors, and only authors had booths. Solomon John indeed had once started upon writing a book, but he was not able to think of anything to put in it, and nothing had occurred to him yet. Mr. Peterkin urged him to take one more effort. If his book could come out before the carnival he could go as an author and might have a booth of his own and take his family. But Agamemnon declared it would take years to become an author. You might indeed publish something, but you had to make sure that it would be read. Mrs. Peterkin, on the other hand, was certain that libraries were filled with books that never were read, yet authors had written them. For herself she had not read half the books in their own library, and she was glad there was to be a carnival of authors that she might know who they were. Mr. Peterkin did not understand why they called them a carnival, but he supposed they should find out when they went to it. Mrs. Peterkin still felt uncertain about costumes. She proposed looking over the old trunks in the garret. They would find some suitable dresses there, and these would suggest what characters they should take. Elizabeth Eliza was pleased with this thought. She remembered an old turban of white wool muslin in an old band box, and why should not her mother wear it? Mrs. Peterkin supposed that she should then go as her own grandmother. Agamemnon did not approve of this. Turbans are now worn in the East, and Mrs. Peterkin ought to go in some Eastern character. Solomon drawn thought she might be Cleopatra, and this was determined by Solomon John. Among the treasures found were some old bonnets of large size with waving plumes. Elizabeth Eliza decided upon the largest of these. She was tempted to appear as Mrs. Columbus, as Solomon John was to take the character of Christopher Columbus, but he was planning to enter upon the stage in a boat, and Elizabeth Eliza was a little afraid of seasickness, as he had arranged to be a great while finding the shore. Solomon John had been led to take this character by discovering a coal-hod that would answer for a helmet. Then, as Christopher Columbus was born in Genoa, he could use the phrase as an Italian he had lately learned of his teacher. As the day approached, the family had their costumes prepared. Mr. Peterkin decided to be Peter the Great. It seemed to him a happy thought, for the few words of Russian he had learned would come in play, and he was quite sure that his own family name made him kin to that of the great Tsar. He studied up the life in the Encyclopedia, and decided to take the costume of a shipbuilder. He visited the Navy Yard and some of the docks, but none of them gave him the true idea of dress for shipbuilding in Holland or St. Petersburg. But he found a picture of Peter the Great representing him in a broad-brimmed hat, so he assumed one that he found at a costumers, and with Elizabeth Eliza's black waterproof was satisfied with his own appearance. Elizabeth Eliza wondered if she could not go with her father in some Russian character. She would have to lay aside her large bonnet, but she had seen pictures of Russian ladies with firm muffs on their head, and she might wear her own muff. Mrs. Peterkin as Cleopatra wore the turban with a little row of false curls in front, and a white embroidered muslin shawl crossed over her black silk dress. The little boys thought she looked much like the picture of their great-grandmother, but doubtless Cleopatra resembled this picture as it was all so long ago, so the rest of the family decided. Agamemnon decided to go as Noah. The costume was represented in one of the little boys' arcs was simple. His father's red-blind dressing gown turned inside out, permitted it easily. Elizabeth Eliza was now anxious to be Mrs. Shem and make a long dress of yellow flannel, and appear with Agamemnon in the little boys. For the little boys were to represent two doves in a raven. There were feather dusters enough in the family for their costumes, which would then be complete with their India rubber boots. Solomon John carried out in detail his idea of Christopher Columbus. He had a number of eggs boiled hard to take in his pocket, proposing to repeat through the evening the scene of setting the egg on its end. He gave up the plan of the boat, as it must be difficult to carry one into town, so he contended himself by practicing the motion of landing by stepping up on the chair. But what scene could Elizabeth Eliza carry out? If they had an arc with Mrs. Shem, she might crawl in and out of the roof constantly if it were not too high. But Mr. Peterkin thought it is difficult to take an arc in the town of Solomon John's boat. The evening came, but with all their preparations, they got to the hall late. The entrance was filled with a crowd of people, and as they stopped to the cloakroom to leave their wraps, they found themselves entangled with a number of people in costume coming out from a dressing room below. Mr. Peterkin was much encouraged. They were thus joining the performers. The band was playing the wedding march as they went upstairs to a door of the hall, which opened upon one side of the stage. Here a procession was marching up the steps of the stage, all in costume and entering behind the scenes. We are just in the right time, whispered Mr. Peterkin to his family. They are going upon the stage. We must fall into line. The little boys had their feather dusters ready. Some words from one of the managers made Peterkin understand the situation. We are going to be introduced to Mr. Dickens, he said. I thought he was dead, exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin trembling. Authors live forever, said Agamemnon in her ear. At this moment they were ushered upon the stage. The stage manager glared at them as he waited their names for introduction, while they came up all unannounced, a part of the program not expected, but he uttered the words upon his lips, great expectations, and the Peterkin family swept upon the stage with the rest. Mr. Peterkin costumed as Peter the Great, Mrs. Peterkin as Cleopatra. Agamemnon is Noah, Solomon John is Christopher Columbus, Elizabeth Eliza in yellow flannel is Mrs. Shem with a large old-fashioned bonnet under her head is Mrs. Columbus, and the little boys behind is two doves and a raven. Across the stage, in face of all the assembled people, then, following the rest down the stairs on the other side, in among the audience they went, but into an audience not dressed in costume. There were Ann Maria, Bromwick, and the Osborns, all the neighbors, all as natural as though they were walking the streets at home, though Ann Maria did wear white gloves. I had no idea you were to appear in characters at Ann Maria to Elizabeth Eliza, to what booth do you belong? We are no particular authors, said Mr. Peterkin. Oh, I see a sort of variety's booth, said Mr. Osborn. What is your character? asked Ann Maria of Elizabeth Eliza. I have not quite decided, said Elizabeth Eliza. I thought I should find out after I came here. The Marshal called us great expectations. Mrs. Peterkin was at the summit of bliss. I have shaken hands with Dickens, shakes claimed, but she looked round to ask the little boys if they too had shaken hands with a great man, but not a little boy could she find. They had been swept off in Mother Goose's train, which had lingered on the steps to see the Dickens' reception, after which the procession of characters and costume had closed. At this moment they were dancing round the Barbary Bush in a corner of the balcony in Mother Goose's quarters, their feather-dusters gaily waving in the air. But Mrs. Peterkin, far below, could not see this, and consoled herself with a thought they should all meet on the stage in the grand closing tableau. She was bewildered by the crowds which swept her hither and thither. At last she found herself at the Whittier booth and sat a long time calmly there. As Cleopatra she seemed out of place, but as her own grandmother she answered well with its New England scenery. Solomon John wondered about landing in America whenever he found a chance to enter a booth. Once before an admiring audience he set up his egg in the center of the get-de booth which had been deserted by its committee for the larger stage. Egg and Memnon frequently stood in the background of scenes in the Arabian Nights. It was with difficulty that the family could be repressed from going on the stage whenever the bugle sounded for the different groups represented there. Elizabeth Eliza came near appearing in the Dream of Fair Women at its most culminating point. Mr. Peterkin found himself with the cricket on the hearth in the Dickens booth. He explained that he was Peter the Great, but always in the Russian language which was never understood. Elizabeth Eliza found herself interned in all the booths. Every manager was puzzled by her appearance and would send her to some other, and she passed along, always trying to explain that she had not yet decided upon her character. Mr. Peterkin came and took Cleopatra from the Whittier booth. I cannot understand, he said, why none of our friends are dressed in costumes and why we are. I rather like it, said Elizabeth Eliza, though I should be better pleased if I could form a group with someone. The strains of the minuet began. Mrs. Peterkin was anxious to join the performance. It was the dance of her youth, but she was delayed by one of the managers on the steps that led to the stage. I cannot understand this company, he said, distractedly. They cannot find their booths at another. That is the case, said Mr. Peterkin, relieved to have it stated. Perhaps you'd better pass into the corridor, said a polite marshal. They did this in walking across found themselves in the refreshment room. This is the booth for us, said Mr. Peterkin. Indeed it is, said Mrs. Peterkin, sinking into a chair exhausted. At this moment, two doves and a raven appeared, the little boys who had been dancing eagerly in Mother Goose's establishment, and now came down for ice cream. I hardly know how to sit down, said Elizabeth Eliza, for I am sure Mrs. Shem never could. Still, as I do not know if I am Mrs. Shem, I will venture it. Happily, seats were to be found for all, and they were soon arranged in a row, calmly eating ice cream. I think the truth is, said Mr. Peterkin, that we represent historical people, and we ought to have been fictitious characters in books. That is, I observe what the others are. We shall know better another time. If we only ever get homes, said Mrs. Peterkin, I shall not wish to come again. It seems like being on the stage, sitting in a booth, and it is so bewildering, Elizabeth Eliza not knowing who she is, and going round and round in this way. I am afraid we shall never reach homes at Agamemnon, who had been silent for some time. We may have to spend the night here. I find I have lost our checks for our clothes in the cloakroom. Spend the night in a booth in Cleopatra's turban, exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin. We should like to come every night, cried the little boys. But to spend the night, repeated Mrs. Peterkin. I conclude the carnival keeps up all night, said Mr. Peterkin. But never to recover our cloaks, said Mrs. Peterkin, could not the little boys look round for the checks on the floor. She began to enumerate the many valuable things they might never see again. She had worn her large fur cape of Stone Martin, her grandmothers, that Elizabeth Eliza had been urging her to have made into a foot-rub. Now how she wished she had. And there were Mr. Peterkin's new over-shoes, and Agamemnon had brought an umbrella, and the little boys had their mittens. Their India rubber boots, fortunately, they had on in the character of birds. But Solomon John had worn a fur cap, and Elizabeth Eliza a moth. Should they lose all those valuables entirely and go home in the cold without them? No, it would be better to wait till everybody had gone and then looked carefully over the floors for the checks. If only the little boys could know where Agamemnon had been, they were willing to look. Mr. Peterkin was not sure as they would have time to reach the train. Still, they would need something to wear, and he could not tell the time. He had not brought his watch. It was a Waltham watch, and he thought it would not be in character for Peter the Great to wear it. At this moment, the strains of Homesweet Home were heard from the band, and people were seen preparing to go. All can go home, but we must stay, said Mrs. Peterkin gloomily as the well-known strains floated in from the larger hall. A number of marshals came to the refreshment room, looked at them, whispered to each other, as the Peterkin sat in a row. Can we do anything for you? asked one at last. Would you not like to go? He seemed eager they should leave the room. Mr. Peterkin exclaimed they could not go, as they had lost the checks for their wraps and hoped to find their checks on the floor when everybody was gone. The marshall asked if they could not describe what they had worn, in which case the loss of the checks was not so important, as the crowds were now almost left, and it would not be difficult to identify their wraps. Mrs. Peterkin eagerly declared she could describe every article. It was astonishing how the marshals hurried them through the quickly-deserted corridors, how gladly they recovered their garments. Mrs. Peterkin indeed was disturbed by the eagerness of the marshals. She feared they had some pretext for getting the family out of the hall. Mrs. Peterkin was one of those who would never consent to be forced to anything. She would not be compelled to go home, even with strains of music. She whispered her suspensions to Mr. Peterkin. But Agamemnon came hastily up to announce the time, which he had learned from the clock in the large hall. They must leave directly if they wish to catch the latest train, as there was barely time to reach it. Then indeed was Mrs. Peterkin ready to leave. If they should miss the trains, if she should have to pass the night in the streets in her turban. She was the first to leave the way, and panting the family followed her, just in time to take the train as it was leaving the station. The excitement was not yet over. They found in the train many of their friends and neighbors returning also from the carnival, so they had many questions put to them which they were unable to answer. Still, Mrs. Peterkin's turban was much admired, and indeed the whole appearance of the family, so that they felt themselves much repaid for their exertions. But more adventures awaited them. They left the train with their friends, but as Mrs. Peterkin and Elizabeth Eliza were very tired, they walked very slowly. When Solomon John and the little boys were sent on with the pass key to open the door. They soon returned with a startling intelligence that it was not the right key, and they could not get in. It was Mr. Peterkin's office key. He had taken it by mistake, or he might have dropped the house key in the cloakroom of the carnival. Must we go back, said Mrs. Peterkin, in an exhausted voice? More than ever did Elizabeth Eliza regret that Agamemnon's envisioning keys had failed to secure a patent. It was impossible to get into the house, for Amanda had been allowed to go and spend the night with a friend, so there was no use in ringing those little boys who tried it. We can return to the station, said Mr. Peterkin. The rooms will be warm on account of the midnight train. We can at least think what we shall do next. At the station was one of their neighbors proposing to take the New York midnight train, for it was now after eleven, and the train went through it half past. I saw lights at the locksmiths over the way as I passed, he said. Why do not you send over for the young man there? You can get your door open for you. I never would spend the night here. Solomon John went over to the young man, who agreed to go up to the house as soon as he had closed the shop, fit a key, and opened the door, and come back to them on his way home. Solomon John came back to the station, for it was now cold and windy in the deserted streets. The family made themselves as comfortable as possible by the stove, sending Solomon John out occasionally to look for the young man. But somehow Solomon John missed him. The lights were out in the locksmith's shop, so he followed along to the house, hoping to find him there. But he was not there. He came back to report. Perhaps the young man had opened the door and gone on home. Solomon John and Agamemnon went back together, but they could not get in. Where was the young man? He had lately come to town and nobody knew where he lived, for on the return of Solomon John and Agamemnon, it had been proposed to go to the house of the young man. The night was wearing on. The midnight train had come and gone. The passengers who came and went looked with wonder at Mrs. Peterkin nodding in her turban as she sat by the stove on a corner of the long bench. At last the station master had to leave for a short rest. He felt obliged to lock up the station, but he promised to return it in early hours to release them. Of what use did Elizabeth arise if we cannot even then get into our own house? Mr. Peterkin thought the matter appeared bad if the locksmith had left town. He feared the young man might have gone in and helped himself to spoons and left. Only they should have seen him if he had taken the midnight train. Solomon John thought he appeared odd-anced. Mr. Peterkin only ventured to whisper his suspicions as he did not wish to arouse Mrs. Peterkin, who still was nodding in the corner of the long bench. Morning came at last. The family decided to go to their home, perhaps by some effort in the early daylight they might make an entrance. On the way they met with the night policeman returning from his beat. He stopped when he saw the family. Ah, that accounts, he said. You were all out late last night, and the burglars took occasion to make a raid on your house. I called a lively young man in a very act, box of tools in his hands. If I had been a minute late he would have made his way in. The family then tried to interrupt to explain. Where is he, explained Mr. Peterkin? Safe in the lock-up, answered the policeman. But he is the locksmith, interrupted Solomon John. We have no key, said Elizabeth Eliza. If you have locked up the locksmith, we can never get in. The policeman looked from one to the other, smiling slightly when he understood the case. The locksmith, he exclaimed. He is a new fellow, and I did not recognize him and rested him. Very well. I will go and let him out, but he may let you in. And he hurried away, surprising the Peterkin family with what seemed like insulting screams of laughter. It seems to me a more serious case than it appears to him, said Mr. Peterkin. Mrs. Peterkin did not understand it at all. Had burglars entered the house, did the policemen say they had taken spoons? And why did he appear so pleased? She was sure the old silver teapot was locked up in the closet of their room. Slowly the family walked towards the house, and almost as soon as they, the policeman appeared with the released locksmith and a few boys from the street who happened to be out early. The locksmith was not in a very good humor, and took ill the jokes of the policeman. Mr. Peterkin, fearing he might not consent to open the door, pressed into his hand the large sum of money. The door flew open, the family could go in. Amanda arrived at the same moment. There was hope of breakfast. Mrs. Peterkin staggered toward the stairs. I shall never go to another carnival, she exclaimed. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. The Peterkin Papers by Lucretia P. Hale Chapter 22 The Peterkins at the Farm Yes, at last they had reached the seaside. After much talking into liberation, and summer after summer the journey had been constantly postponed. But here they were at last at the old farm, so called where seaside attractions had been praised in all the advertisements. In here they were to meet the Sylvesters, who knew all about the place, cousins of Anne Maria Bromwick. Elizabeth Eliza was astonished not to find them there, though she had not expected Anne Maria to join them till the very next day. The preparations had been so elaborate that at one time the whole thing had seemed hopeless, yet here they all were. Their trunks, to be sure, had not arrived, but the wagon was to be sent back for them, and wonderful to tell they had all their hand baggage safe. Agamemnon had brought his portable electric machine and apparatus and the volumes of encyclopedia that might tell him how to manage it. And Solomon John had his photograph camera. The little boys had used their India rubber boots as portmanteaus, filling them to the brim and carrying one in each hand, a very convenient way for traveling they considered it. But they found on arriving, when they wanted to put their boots directly on for exploration round the house, that it was somewhat inconvenient to have to begin to unpack directly, and scarcely room enough could be found for all the contents in the small chamber allotted to them. There was no room in the house for the electrical machine and camera. Elizabeth Eliza thought the other borders were afraid of the machine going off, so an outhouse was found for them, where Agamemnon and Solomon John could arrange them. Mrs. Peterkin was much pleased with the old-fashioned porch and low-studded rooms, though the sleeping room seemed a little stuffy at first. Mr. Peterkin was delighted with the admirable order in which the farm was evidently kept. From the first moment he arrived, he gave himself to examining the well-stocked stables and barns, and the fields and vegetable gardens, which were shown to him by a highly intelligent person, a Mr. Atwood, who devoted himself to explaining to Mr. Peterkin all the details of methods in the farming. The rest of the family were disturbed at being so far from the sea, when they found it would take nearly all the afternoon to reach the beach. The advertisements had surely stated that the old farm was directly on the shore and that sea bathing would be exceedingly convenient, which was hardly the case if it took you an hour and a half to walk it. Mr. Peterkin declared there were always such discrepancies between the advertisements of seaside places and the actual facts, but he was more than satisfied with the farm part and was glad to remain and admire it while the rest of the family went to find the beach, starting off in a wagon large enough to accommodate them, Agamemnon driving the one horse. Solomon John had depended upon taking the photographs of the family in a row on the beach, but he decided not to take his camera out the first afternoon. This was well as the sun was already setting when they reached the beach. If this wagon were not so shaky, said Mrs. Peterkin, we might drive over every morning for our bath. The road is very straight and I suppose Agamemnon can turn on the beach. We should have to spend the whole day about it, said Solomon John in a discouraged tone, unless we can have a quicker horse. Perhaps we should prefer that, said Elizabeth Eliza a little gloomily, to staying at the house. She had been a little disturbed to find there were not more elegant and fashionable looking borders at the farm and she was disappointed that the Sylvesters had not arrived, who would understand the ways of the place. Yet again she was somewhat relieved, for if their trunks did not come to the next day as was feared, she should have nothing but her traveling dress to wear, which would certainly answer for tonight. She had been busy all the early summer in preparing her dresses for this very watering place, and as far as appeared she would hardly need them and was disappointed to have no chance to display them. But of course when the Sylvesters and Anne Maria came all would be different, but they would surely be wasted on the two old ladies she had seen, and on the old men who had lounged about the porch, there surely was not a gentleman among them. Agamemnon assured her she could not tell at the seaside as gentlemen wore their exercise dress and took a pride in going around in shocking hats and flannel suits. Doubtless they would be dressed for dinner on their return. On their arrival they had been shown to a room to have their meals by themselves and could not decide whether they were eating dinner or lunch. There was a variety of meat, vegetables, and pie that might come under either name. But Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin were well pleased. I had no idea we should have really farmed fair, Mrs. Peterkin said. I have not drunk such a tumbler of milk since I was young. Elizabeth Eliza concluded they ought not to judge from a first meal, as evidently their arrival had not been fully prepared for, in spite of the numerous letters that had been exchanged. The little boys were, however, perfectly satisfied from the moment of their arrival, and one of them had stayed at the farm, declining to go to the beach, as he wished to admire the pigs, cows, and horses. And all the way over to the beach the other little boys were hopping in and out of the wagon, which never went too fast, to pick long mull and stalks, for whips to urge on the reluctant horse with, or to gather huckleberries, with which they were rejoiced to find the fields were filled, although, as yet the berries were very green. They wanted to stay longer on the beach when they finally reached it, but Mrs. Peterkin and Elizabeth Eliza insisted upon turning directly back, as it was not fair to be late to dinner that very first night. On the whole the party came back cheerful yet hungry. They found the same old men in the same costume standing against the porch. A little seedy, I should say, said Solomon John. Smoking pipes at Agamemnon, I believe that is the latest style. The smell of their tobacco is not very agreeable, Mrs. Peterkin was forced to say. There seemed the same uncertainty on their arrival as to where they were to be put, and as to their meals. Elizabeth Eliza tried to get into conversation with the old ladies who were wandering in and out of a small sitting room, but one of them was very deaf and the other seemed to be a foreigner. She discovered from a moderately tidy maid by the name of Martha, who seemed a sort of fact totem, that there were other ladies in their rooms too much of invalids to appear. Regular bed-written Martha had described them, which Elizabeth Eliza did not consider respectful. Mr. Peterkin appeared coming down the slope of the hill behind the house very cheerful. He had made the tour of the farm and found it in admirable order. Elizabeth Eliza felt it time to ask Martha about the next meal and ventured to call it supper as a sort of compromise between dinner and tea. If dinner were expected she might offend by taking it for granted that it was to be tea, and if they were unused to a late dinner they might be disturbed if they had only provided a tea. So she asked what was the usual hour for supper and was surprised when Martha replied, the lady must say, nodding to Mrs. Peterkin, she can have it just when she wants and just what she wants. This was an unexpected courtesy. Elizabeth Eliza asked when the others had their supper. Oh, they took it long time ago, Martha answered. If the lady will go out into the kitchen she can tell what she wants. Bring us in what you have, said Mr. Peterkin, himself quite hungry. If you could cook us a fresh slice of beef steak that would be well. Perhaps some eggs, murmured Mrs. Peterkin. Scrambled, cried one of the little boys. Fried potatoes would not be bad, suggested Agamemnon. Couldn't we have some onions? asked the little boy who had stayed at home and had noticed the odor of onions when the others had their supper. A pie would come in well, said Solomon John, and some stewed cherries, said the other little boy. Martha fell to letting the table and the family was much pleased when in the course of time all the dishes they had recommended appeared. Their appetites were admirable and they pronounced the food the same. This is truly Arab hospitality, said Mr. Peterkin as he cut his juicy beef steak. I know it, said Elizabeth Eliza, whose spirits began to rise. We have not even seen the host and hostess. She would indeed have been glad to find someone to tell her when the Sylvesters were expected and why they had not arrived. Her room was in the wing, far from that of Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin, and near the aged deaf and foreign ladies, and she was kept awake for some time by perplexed thoughts. She was sure the lady from Philadelphia under such circumstances would have written to somebody, but ought she to write to Anne Maria or the Sylvesters? And if she did write, which had she better write to? She fully determined to write the first thing in the morning to both parties, but how should she address her letters? Would there be any use in sending to the Sylvester's usual address, which she knew well by this time merely to say they had not come? Of course the Sylvesters would know they had not come. It would be the same with Anne Maria. She might indeed enclose her letters to their several postmasters. Postmasters were always so obliging and always knew where people were going to and where to send their letters. She might at least write two letters to say that they, the Peterkins, had arrived and were disappointed not to find the Sylvesters. And she could add that their trunks had not arrived, and perhaps their friends might look out for them on their way. It really seemed a good plan to write. Yet another question came up as to how she would get her letters to the post office as she had already learned it was at quite a distance and in a different direction from the station where they were to send the next day for their trunks. She went over and over these same questions kept awake by the coughing and talking of her neighbors the other side of the thin partition. She was scarcely sorry to be aroused from her uncomfortable sleep by the morning sounds of guinea hens, peacocks, and every other kind of foul. Mrs. Peterkin expressed her satisfaction at the early breakfast and declared she was delighted with such genuine farmed sounds. They passed the day much as the afternoon before reaching the beach only in time to turn round to come back for their dinner which was appointed at noon. Mrs. Peterkin was quite satisfied. Such a straight road and the beach such a safe place to turn round upon. Elizabeth Eliza was not so well pleased. A wagon had been sent to the station for their trunks which could not be found. They were probably left at the Boston station or Mr. Atwood suggested might have been switched off upon one of the white mountain trains. There was no use to write any letters as there was no way to send them. Elizabeth Eliza now almost hoped the Sylvester's would not come for what should she do if the trunks did not come in all her new dresses? On her way over to the beach she had been thinking what she should do with her new fillard and cream colored sarah if the Sylvester did not come and if their time was spent in only driving to the beach and back. But now she would prefer that Sylvester's would not come till the dresses and the trunks did. All she could find out from inquiry and returning was that another lot was expected on Saturday. The next day she suggested suppose we take our dinner with us to the beach and spend the day. The Sylvester's and Anne Maria then would find them on the beach where her traveling dress would be quite appropriate. I am a little tired she added of going back and forward over the same road but when the rest come we can vary it. The plan was agreed to but Mr. Peterkin and the little boys remained to go over the farm again. They had an excellent picnic on the beach under the shadow of a ledge of sand. They were just putting up their things when they saw a party of people approaching from the other end of the beach. I am glad to see some pleasant looking people at last said Elizabeth Eliza and they all turned to walk toward them. As the other party junior she recognized Anne Maria Bromwick and with her were the Sylvester's so they proved to be for she had never seen them before. What you have come in our absence exclaimed Elizabeth Eliza and we have been wondering what had become of you cried Anne Maria. I thought you would be at the farm before us said Elizabeth Eliza to Mr. Sylvester to whom she was introduced. We have been looking for you at the farm he was saying to her but we are at the farm said Elizabeth Eliza and so are we said Anne Maria. We have been there two days said Mrs. Peterkin and so have we at the old farm just at the end of the beach said Anne Maria. Our farm is old enough said Solomon John. Whereabouts are you asked Mr. Sylvester. Elizabeth Eliza pointed to the road they had come. A smile came over Mr. Sylvester's face he knew the country well. You mean the farmhouse behind the hill at the end of the road he asked? The Peterkins all nodded affirmatively. Anne Maria could not restrain herself as broad smiles came over the faces of all the party. Why that is the poor house she exclaimed. The town farm Mr. Sylvester explained deprecatingly. The Peterkins were silent for a while. The Sylvester's tried not to laugh. There certainly were some disagreeable old men and women there said Elizabeth Eliza at last but we have surely been made very comfortable Mrs. Peterkin declared. A very simple mistake said Mr. Sylvester continuing his amusement. Your trunks arrived all right at the old farm two days ago. Let us go back directly said Elizabeth Eliza. As directly as our horse will allow said Agamemnon. Mr. Sylvester helped them into the wagon. Your rooms are awaiting you he said why not come with us? We want to find Mr. Peterkin before we do anything else said Mrs. Peterkin. They rode back in silence till Elizabeth Eliza said do you suppose they took us for poppers? We have not seen any they said Solomon John except Mr. Atwood. At the entrance of the farm yard Mr. Peterkin met them. I have been looking for you he said I have just made a discovery. We have made it too said Elizabeth Eliza we are in the poor house. How did you find it out Mrs. Peterkin asked of Mr. Peterkin. Mr. Atwood came to me puzzled with a telegram that had been brought to him from the station which he ought to have got two days ago. It came from Mr. Peters whom they were expecting here this week with his wife and boys to take charge of the establishment. He telegraphed to say he cannot come till Friday. Now Mr. Atwood had supposed we were the Peterses whom he had sent for the day we arrived not having received this telegram. Oh I see I see said Mrs. Peterkin and we did get into a muddle at the station. Mr. Atwood met them at the porch. I beg pardon he said I hope you have found it comfortable here and shall be glad to have you stay till Mr. Peters family comes. At this moment wheels were heard Mr. Sylvester had arrived with an open wagon to take the Peterkins to the old farm. Martha was waiting within the door and said to Elizabeth Eliza beg pardon miss for thinking you as one of the inmates and putting you in that room. We thought it so kind of Mrs. Peters to take you off every day with the other gentleman that looked so wandering. Elizabeth Eliza did not know whether to laugh or to cry. Mr. Peterkin and the little boys decided to stay at the farm till Friday but Agamemnon and Solomon John preferred to leave with Mr. Sylvester and to take their electrical machine and camera when they came for Mr. Peterkin. Mrs. Peterkin was tempted to stay another night to be wakened once more by the guinea hens but Elizabeth Eliza bore her off. There was not much packing to be done. She shouted goodbyes into the ears of the deaf old lady and waved her hand to the foreign one and glad to bid farewell to the old men with their pipes leaning against the porch. This time she said it is not our trunks that were lost but we as a family said Mrs. Peterkin. End of chapter 22 End of the book The Peterkin Papers