 CHAPTER XI When dad did return, with the good news that the house was saved, Ruth was a trifle surprised, after Danny's first look of pleasure, to see a shade of disappointment sweep over his expressive features. But his father's next remark brought instant relief to whatever thought had so suddenly sobered him, which remark was to the effect that it was a puzzle to imagine how two women ever managed to live under their present circumstances, that they looked thin and ill fed, and he wondered how it would be possible to give two women like that an impetus to achieve greater things. Danny now paid his whole attention to the business of dinner which Dewey was serving. He ate with his accustomed appetite, but by the time the last spoonful of dessert was swallowed, his eyes were heavy with sleep. Son, let's go take a nap, the morning's exercise has made me sleepy, saying which Mr. Sanderson swung Danny to his shoulder and marched off upstairs, leaving Ruth to her own devices. Should she stay at home and just be lazy, or should she take a book, go over to the beach and bask in the sun and the sand. She picked up from the table in the living-room Hopkins and Smith's Peter, walked to the piazza rail and let her glance rove up and down the picturesque banks of the river. Her decisions were never long in the making, and now, after scanning both shores, she tucked Peter firmly under her right arm and sallied forth. To get to the beach from the point where they were, it was necessary to walk back to the bridge and then practically retrace one's steps on the other side of the river. That's another thing we must have, she thought, a boat to go over and back, for this is a waste of time, it's quite a long way around. For a wonder the air was still, there was a brooding, sunny silence all about. Ruth appeared to be the only human being in sight. She was always very much alive, wide awake, keenly interested in all nature. I wonder, she thought, if I could find any clay along the river, I'd like to make a model of the entrance and doorway of the Frost House some day, I'll follow along the riverbank and see. All went well as long as she was on their own side, but after crossing the bridge, that she continued on up to the road, as was the custom of pedestrians, she would have seen a sign announcing that trespassing was forbidden, so, all unconsciously, she was disobeying a mandate. She found a spot where she was quite sure she could get the clay at low tide, but concluded she would come over one morning with a suitable receptacle for it. Then she bent her steps in the direction of the beach, and with the swinging stride of a mountain climber was making good time. Swishing through the sedges, she startled a blue heron, and stood to watch its flight. Then on again, and it was some time before she realized the soil was getting spongy. But she plotted on. Finally, standing on one foot, she lifted the other to see if she was getting uncomfortably wet. This is rather bad, she concluded, I'd best be looking about me to pick and choose my footing. But matters were getting worse instead of better, with each step she was finding it difficult to pull her feet out, and had she worn low shoes instead of high boots they would certainly have been lost in the mud. The longest way round next time for yours truly, she thought. The very next step was calamitous. She simply couldn't pull her foot out. Whenever she leaned to one side, endeavoring to loosen the other foot, the one she bore her weight on sank still deeper. The mud was up to the tops of her boots now, and slowly, very slowly, she felt them being sucked still deeper. She tried to brace herself with her hands, but they too would sink in. She tried pulling herself by the sedges. There was no solid thing on which she could get any purchase to help raise herself. Looking swiftly all around, she found it was no use to call for help, for there was no one in sight, and the fish-houses, not far off, were apparently deserted. Then she had a brilliant thought. Peter, the book, was still tucked under her arm. Holding it in the middle, she laid it flat down, and with both hands spread out upon it, made an almost superhuman effort, and slowly, but surely, one after the other, was able to extricate her feet. This was a slow way of progressing, but by means of repeating this operation, she finally got to where the footing was possible once more. With dismay she surveyed her feet, legs, and skirts. The book, too, was soaked, and dripping and warped. "'My, but I'm a tragedy,' she exclaimed, and little she knew what a narrow escape from real tragedy she had just experienced, for she had been in quick mud, and Peter, always gallantly ready to serve others, had really saved her life. "'After the deluge, what?' she asked herself, with the quizzical expression that always brought out her dimples. "'I'll have to change my mind about basking in the sun, for I have no desire to bake into a mud-cast. Although, strange to relate, I have met nobody on the way, I have a distaste to going back over the road and running any chances in that direction. I must try and bribe somebody to row me back.' Dripping mud at every step, she walked to the fish-houses to see if by chance there might possibly be someone around a corner. Although she could see nobody, she thought she heard a whistle. "'Where is the boy?' she puzzled, forgetting nearer she distinctly heard all the notes of the popular air of the day. Every little movement has a meaning all its own, every thought and feeling by some gesture can be shown.' The fish-houses were built to overhang the river, with just a narrow planking on the river-side where the fisherman landed the fish from the boats alongside. It so happened that after luncheon Richard Huntington had sauntered down here to smoke his cigar, and was sitting on this planking, his knees drawn up and hands clasped about them, idly speculating on the possibilities of the place, also as to which house his new acquaintances might be living in, and thoroughly enjoying the soft, dreamy air of the whole place. "'Now I'm getting warm,' said Ruth in a self-congratulatory tone, for at last she placed the source of the whistle to her satisfaction as coming from the rear of the middle fish-house, and in her usual breezy way, expecting to find a boy with a fish-line, she stepped briskly round the corner of the house. Unfortunately the planking was narrow and the apparition confronting her was so utterly unlike her expectations that she took a step backward a little too far to the right, lost her balance and fell with a splash into the river below. "'Good Lord!' ejaculated Richard. There was no time for anything else but a frantic effort to find a rope or an oar. His quick instinct told him this was better than jumping in himself, and sure enough a good coil of rope lay close at hand. He did not know, although he might easily have surmised, that Ruth was a strong swimmer. She covered the distance to a dory, moored nearby, without an effort, and was pulling herself up over the rail just as he reached over with the rope. He had thrown himself flat to get a better reach with both hands, and found himself gazing down at a merry, upturned face. Ruth, shaking the water from her hair and eyes, merrily laughed at his astonished face and comical position. Then she coolly announced that as long as she was in she might as well wash off some of the mud. She proceeded to place herself in the stern of the dory where she could conveniently dangle her legs in the water. "'My dear young woman!' declared Richard, with clerical solemnity, "'Your worst enemy could never accuse you of being bromidic!' "'That's all right,' she acquiesced with a hearty peel of laughter. "'But anyway, I consider we are even now, although if it had not been for the fact that I needed a bath you would be slightly in my debt according to my judgment.' Richard swung himself up to a sitting posture and relid his cigar. Providence seems to have ordained that we become acquainted. He insinuated. Albeit her method of introduction is slightly unconventional and a trifle violent. I judge you had been clamming. Did you have any luck?' Ruth now unfastened the painter, picked up an oar in the bottom of the dory, stood up and with her sweetest smile assured him that she was really very sorry for having disturbed his meditations and interrupted his cigar. As for the clams, she said, I only found one stuck in the mud, and I did have some difficulty in getting it out. Then with a little nod and a strong sweep of the arms, using the oar as a paddle, she headed the dory toward her own side of the river. ILLUSION NUMBER 3 Mentally tabulated by our friend Richard, who took no shame to himself for following Ruth with his eyes. The wet, clinging garments revealed the lithe, girlish figure full of strong curves and trained by right living. You won't find that kind on a hotel piazza, he mused, and once more he fell into a position of indolent physical enjoyment. Anyway, he would give himself the satisfaction of seeing where she went. So he watched her through the slight haze of his own cigar smoke till she landed, entered the dory, and went at her way through the pine grove to the house on the point. Ah, was all the comment he made? He flicked the end of the cigar into the river, rose, shook himself, then stopped to pick up a hitherto unnoticed and neglected, very dilapidated looking book. He opened it. Peter, hmm, and with it returned to the hotel. END OF CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 Not all the days which followed were as eventful as the past twenty-four hours, for, after all, it is seldom that the unexpected really does happen. It was evening of the sixth day, and the lady moon was exercising her privilege of looking down upon and peeking into the windows of the three homes with which we have the most to do in this our story. Poor Richard doesn't count. He was obliged to put up with the cold, bare, impersonal apartment of a modern summer hotel in which the lady moon took small interest. Just now she was especially busy touching up the threads of silver which rippled and glistened under the smooth, wide, benign brow of Danny's beloved anti-frost, for their friendship had reached to that point by this time. Not having the power of the lady moon to envelop with a soft radiance the three homes at one in the same time, we can only follow a few rays as we may. The feathery foliage of the old willow tree at the corner of the peri's piazza stirred sleepily now and again, causing the special rays of the lady moon to dance and play among the silver threads lovingly, for anti-frost had slipped across the road to have a little chat with Mary and Perry when she should be free. Most of the cottages were rather primitive, that is to say, with few modern conveniences but cozy and comfortable. The house the Perry's occupied was no exception to the general rule, but it had the redeeming feature of a wide, comfortable piazza which ran the whole length of the house and faced toward the large meadow which was the children's playground. Near either corner the old willow trees cast a pleasant shade for the eyes, and Mr. Perry had brought up several loads of sand which he put under the tree in the rear for the children's benefit. The piazza was used as living-room, none of the household having any use for the inside of four walls during the summer time except just three times a day when their ravenous appetites lured them in. It had only been a matter of a few days before the Sanderson's, Frost's, Perry's and Sterling's, including Dorothea and Betty Marsh, Mrs. Perry's sisters, felt as though they had known each other always. It was an unusually congenial group, no spoil-sport among them. Scarcely a day passed without their all getting together somewhere. They adopted a signal code, and by means of a huge foghorn produced from the captain's treasures were able to send messages such as, We are all at the Perry's come along. This was two blasts. Three toots signified. If you don't want to miss the fun, beat it for the Sterling's casino, etc. Mrs. Perry was young, short, plump and very jolly. She had bewitching little mannerisms that won all hearts. Dorothea was rather serious, a great reader and something too of a dreamer. While Betty was a bunch of good nature and happy irresponsibility, a lover of sports especially dancing. Mr. Perry had to bear considerable fun poking on account of the preponderance of the gentler sex in his household. Elise and Nancy Perry, little Howard Sterling and Danny, made sand pies, played house or express, quarreled and made up and had a good time generally. Whenever it was necessary for one of the older members of the family to step in and straighten things out, wipe away tears or reprimand, the bone of contention was pretty sure to be traced to little Miss Nancy, for the amount of her vitality to the square inch was out of all proportion to the size of her small body. It was a great relief to Mary and Perry when she tucked Nancy up for the night as she was at the present moment doing, and could feel that for about twelve hours at least the active muscles would be in repose. With a bright smile she came out to greet her neighbor. Now Mrs. Frost, come right over here and sit in the most comfortable chair and we'll see if those kitties will go to sleep. Mrs. Perry gently pushed her new friend into the most roomy and cushiony rocker. You see, she continued, drying up a low chair for herself so she wouldn't have to speak loud. At home they have separate rooms, but it's more convenient here to put them in the same room. Elise is not very strong and rather nervous. She needs all the sleep she can get, but that little monkey of a nance likes to talk. Oh, she's such a handful! They are darling children, my dear. I don't know that I ever knew so lively a child as Nancy. Captain Frost has completely lost his heart to her. He frequently calls me to come and watch her. Other, he'll say, to do you good to rest a minute and observe that personification of perpetual motion. Look at those feet! They never walk, they fairly twinkle. And he's never so happy as when he is walking out to see the hens with Nancy holding one hand and Danny the other. It's come to be a regular thing now for them to come over and help feed the chickens. The windows of the children's bedroom opened directly upon the further end of the piazza and a smothered squeal from Elsie was now audible. She had a sweet, high-pitched, childlike voice in contrast to Nancy's, which was low, strong, and sometimes almost gruff when she chose to make it so. Then in a minute or two the listeners heard a low, whispered growl from Nancy, with — here comes a mouse! — in highly dramatic accents. The sixty-year-old mother and the thirty-year-old mother looked at each other with a merry understanding. Mrs. Perry walked over to the window. Nancy, why are you out of your crib? A conscious and caught-in-the-act giggle from Nancy. I think Teddy was hot, mother. The ever-present Teddy Bear was as usual clasped in one arm, for Nancy and Teddy were rarely separated. Get right back to bed, Nancy, and if you get out again mother will have to punish you. The little mother went back to her seat and silence reigned for quite a while. I suppose the clan have gone to the post office for the mail, she inquired. Yes, indeed, they wouldn't miss that walk through the woods for anything. In fact, none of the cottagers ever think of sending anyone else for their mail nowadays The young people having constituted themselves into a regular rural delivery, I tell Mary that she and Mr. Sanderson are quite as bad as the younger ones, for they go along, too. I don't blame them, if it wasn't for the kitties I'd join the procession myself. My dear, any time you would like to go just send for me, and I'd be only too happy to sit with the children. Mrs. Frost, looking at the merry brown eyes opposite her, was thinking the little mother didn't look more than a girl herself. Nancy now began to sing softly to herself, and pretty soon they heard, in an undertone, Lease, are you going to sleep? Then a very faint and sleepy, yes, in reply, No, you're not! And Nancy's flippant voice was vibrant with assured authority. Mrs. Perry started to rise, but Mrs. Frost gently laid her hand on her knee. Let me speak to them a minute, she pleaded. She in her turn went to the open window. Nancy, she said, if you and Elsie will shut your eyes tight and listen a little while, I think you will hear a whipper will. She was obliged to step back to hide her laughing face when she heard Nancy whisper, Don't you do it, Lease, you can hear just as well with them open. Then she tried another tack. Nancy, would you like to have Auntie Frost come in and sing you a song? Judging from the sound which accompanied the joyous, yes, Nancy must be making a springboard of her mattress. Mrs. Perry nodded acquiescence to Mrs. Frost's questioning glance. Just one, she advised. Nancy was standing in the middle of her crib, one little hand grasping her held up nightly. Teddy still clutched in the other. Her round cheeks were brilliantly rosy, her saucy lips displaying two rows of tiny white teeth, and in her snapping black eyes there was no suggestion of sleep. The bewitching, dainty face was framed in a becoming Dutch cut. Elyse's shadowy eyes were like pansies. She lay quietly in the big bed. But both the children looked their pleasure as Mrs. Frost came in. She seated herself on the edge of the large bed where she was between the two children. Now, Nancy, lay down and cover Teddy up with this sheet. There was something essentially soothing in the captain's wife's very presence, just to see her moving about a room, quietly giving a touch here and there, moving some object to its better place with an unruffled, hurried grace, was a comforting experience. She would have made a wonderful nurse for the sick. Now she talked a little to the children in a quiet, even tone, and then she said, I'm going to sing you a song that I used to sing to my Mary when she was a little girl just like you. But you mustn't talk or ask questions, I'll go sit by the window. She bent over Nancy's crib, tucked the sheet up carefully and smoothly, passed a cool, soft hand over Nancy's forehead, kissed her, then kissed Elyse, sat down by the window, and began in a monotonous, sleepy sing-song. Oh, where have you been, billy boy, billy boy? Oh, where have you been, charming billy? I have been to see my wife, she's the pride of my life. She's a young thing and cannot leave her mother. How old is she, billy boy, billy boy? How old is she, charming billy? Three times six, four times seven, twenty-eight and eleven. She's a young thing and cannot leave her mother. And so on through all the verses, how tall is she, can she make a cherry pie, making her voice softer and more sleepy with each verse, just humming drowsily at the end? All was still, and she tiptoed back to the evening air. It takes me back to old times. She whispered when Mrs. Perry tucked her hand through her arm and suggested that they walk to meet the men's and people's, as Danny would say. I'll just step round to the kitchen door and ask Nora to keep watch, said Mrs. Perry. What a night! The lady moon continued to follow them. The air was still and clear, and the white road stretched off to a narrowing point between the shadowy pine-woods on either hand. How do Dorothea and Betty enjoy sleeping in a tent? asked Mrs. Frost. Oh! they love it! Nothing would hire me to sleep out of doors. Why, we killed a long black snake on the back porch just the other day. That is to say, the milkman did. I ran the other way. I should be thinking of snakes, skunks, and other awful things, and never a wink of sleep would I get. The night was so still, they heard the gay troop of young people long before they could see them. Where's the captain to-night, Mrs. Frost? He and your husband are smoking pipes and telling yarns on our piazza steps. Jack is having such a good time down here. In fact, we all love it. And Mary and Perry gave a little squeeze to the arm she held. Now, don't jump, dear, she said. I'm going to give the call. She uttered a loud, clear yodel, and immediately the answer came back from a dozen throats and what sounded like an echo from the woods. Why, I never heard an echo here before, remarked Mrs. Frost. The lady moon smiled as the noisy group of enthusiastic boys and maids closed in about the two maitrens. Where are the rest of you, laughingly inquired Mary and Perry? You don't seem to be so promiscuous as usual. Yes, I don't see my Mary, added Mrs. Frost, and didn't Mr. Sanderson start out with you, too? He did, madame. It's a very unpretty name we have to call those two. Nat Sterling accompanied the statement with a solemn shake of the head. It is with deep regret that we have to say its spells, deserters. Why, where were they going? Not going at all, madame, said Nat with a low bow. Just naturally coming, only their thought seemed not of the earth, earthy to-night. The moon had cast a spell upon them and they refused to come back by way of the road. That explains the echo, then. Echo, madame? Yes, as you came up the road and answered Mrs. Perry's call, we heard what sounded like an echo from the wood. Richard now gallantly offered his arm to Mrs. Frost as they all started on once more. They should be about opposite us now as the woodpath follows the road at a zigzag parallel. He proffered. I don't see Ruth, why isn't she here? continued Mrs. Frost. They said that for some reason or other Danny was restless and she wouldn't leave him, but if you ask me I should say it was probably because I am here. Fate seems to be playing a little game of hide and seek with us. Here a whole week has passed and I haven't met Miss Ruth Sanderson in any conventional understanding of the term yet. However I appear she is either making her exit on a horse, in a boat, or in a cloud of dust cut up by her own motor car. Why, then, isn't this your very chance? You know she's at home, seems to me I'd go right over and make sure of her if I were you. Richard stopped, turned and looked down with a smile at the sweet face, so full of loving thought for all which each of the young people had grown to love, and he stooped and kissed her cheek. A most excellent idea, but just as sure as I reached their door she'll disappear up the chimney. Now all this time the mail was being delivered to the expectant cottagers, one or another of the group stopping at each house and leaving whatever was addressed to its occupants, and cheery words were exchanged, maybe through an open window or over the piazza rail or at the barn door. When they reached the parries Betty Marsh begged them to wait till she ran over to her tent for a light wrap as it was getting cooler. The moonlight was sufficient and she wouldn't have to stop to get a lantern, so they stood at the gateway while she ran back of the house, but in a second they heard her scream and come tearing back again. Mercy, there's a snake two yards long right at the back of the tent. Her eyes were wide with excitement. My heart's going just like a trip hammer! Get us a mallet and lantern quick!" cried Nat Stirling. This done Richard took the lantern, Nat the mallet, and stealthily they crept behind the tent, the rest waiting with baited breath till they heard the mallet fall with fierce blows. Ah, he's a beauty! called Ronald Stirling as the two returned, Richard dragging the snake from his upward stretched arm. Here, Miss Betty, he's yours. He said, advancing toward Betty Marsh, who retreated in disorder. Don't, Mr. Huntington, please, I, I, please put him down. Are you sure he's dead?" Richard laid him along the ground and holding the lantern close called, Come and see for yourself. Betty and Dorothea, clutching at each other's skirts, came falteringly forward, gradually drying near enough to see the reptile clearly. Why, it's, it's, a trunk strap! they exclaimed, and then such a shout went up as to bring a smile to many a face of the letter readers a long way back on the road, and caused Mary and Perry to rush to discover if her babies were frightened. Well, anyway, declared Nat, with doubtful satisfaction, I smashed the tongue off even if it wasn't poisonous. And how about the Lady Moon now? She had seen the silvery thread safely home, so she bethought herself of Mary, and looked down through an opening in the pine trees straight into two upturned faces. Oh, said Mary, aren't you acquainted with the Lady in the Moon? A Lady in the Moon? Mr. Sanderson's tone of voice was skeptical. I always understood that mere man held full sway up there. I've seen him modelled in clay. Are you quite sure you see a Lady? There is not the slightest room for doubt, laughed Mary. And she's a very beautiful Lady, too, and young. I shall be happy to introduce you to her. She's always dressed for the evening, only you can't see her dress, just her exquisite head and a beautiful bare shoulder. Her profile is partly turned, and she is bending her head slightly to look down upon us. Her hair is wondrous, soft and fluffy, rolled up to a knot at the top of her head, and it hides all but a tiny wee bit of her ear. The slope of her neck and shoulder is cut off by the lower edge of the Moon, and her pompadour comes very near the top. Now do you see her? Why, of course, just as plain as day. She's a modern Lady, too. Well, isn't it strange that I've lived all these years and looked at the full Moon month in and month out, and never saw her before? No, it's not so very strange. I had to have her pointed out to me, and many there are who are never able to see her even when she's fully described. Delighted, I'm sure, smiled the Lady Moon as the two turned their backs, vanishing into the shadowy depths of the pathway, where Mary's soft, white draperies made a spot of high light slowly receding until it was lost to view. And now I must kiss Danny good night, murmured the Lady Moon shimmering over the treetops, twinkling across the river and slanting down through the deep, open window to dance in Danny's curls, and with the aid of the flickering light of the wood fire on the hearth, to create a satisfying yet tantalizing picture for Richard's soul and special benefit. Hands in pockets and without his customary cheery whistle, as a means of precaution against giving fate any warning of his approach, he sauntered up from the gateway with a sly wink at the seldom in sign. He trod softly over the grass. Hearing voices, he made straight for the long, open window. But the sight it revealed gave him pause. Seated in the ingle nook, Ruth and Danny were crooning nursery rhymes while Ruth held Danny's bare, pink toes to the warmth of the blaze. The two heads were close together, the russet bloom of Ruth's cheek, softly resting against Danny's sunny curls. He was warmly wrapped in a little light blue bathrobe, making a delightful bit of color against the pure white of Ruth's simple muslin frock. Seated on the floor directly in front, her hands clasped about her knees was dewy, her dusky face shining with undoubted love and adoration for little Capon. Now, ruffles, let's say five little rabbits went out to walk, said Danny in a coaxing tone. But that must be the very last, replied Ruth, and her accent had a tone of finality. Will you go to bed then, like a very, very good boy? Yes, with a deep sigh of resignation. So the story of the five little rabbits, who, like to boast as well as talk, was repeated. At the close, Danny bounced round to face Ruth, kneeling in her lap. I'll say my prayers here, please. Very well. Danny sat back on his heels, squeezed his eyes very tight shut, and rattled off, now I lay me. When he had finished invoking a blessing upon everyone he knew and ended with, and please send enough to eat for those two poor women's in the woods. Then, with a breath and dewy exchanged glances, then lifting his left hand, the fingers of which he spread wide apart, he checked off with the index finger of his right hand, what was obviously a sort of finale to his prayers, and a regular part of the evening ceremony. Beginning with the thumb, he said, Be, the first finger, Ah, second, Manly, third, Christian, fourth, At the last word the solemn little face became all a light with fun. Pick a back, ruffles, he said. In a trice he had scrambled round behind, and had his arms about Ruth's neck, who cantered off toward the stairs with him, followed by Dewey. All this time Richard had been guilty of eavesdropping, and listening now he heard merry sounds floating down from above stairs, for of a surety a frolic was on. The time is not yet. He thought as he slowly retraced his steps toward the hotel. Somehow he felt that he'd like to keep that picture in his mind of the intimate home life of this vivid, intense, spirited young girl. How the responsibility of Dany's development and training revealed the potentialities of the future blossoming. But who would hasten the opening of the exquisite, infolding petals of a rose? End of CHAPTER XII. CHAPTER XIII. Is the flag up yet, Dany? Called Ruth from the morning-room, where she was arranging a bowl of nasturtiums. No, ruffles, not yet. But the men's are cleaning the fish. I can see them. I guess it'll go up pretty quick. After Dany, having adjusted the flowers to her satisfaction, she placed them on a window sill against the background of a cream-net drapery on which they almost appeared to be twining, and where the sun brought out wonderful colors in the green bowl. Her little nod of approval, as she stepped back to view the result, implied that it was not half bad. Then she turned, picked up a good-sized basket and her riding-gloves, and joined her father and Dany on the piazza. Well, Dad, what shall it be today? Chowder, or squintig, alias tau-taug, alias sea-trout. Down here, that which we call a fish, tastes as good under any other name. Indeed, we're lucky to get anything with fins under any name whatever, as fish is the only thing that one can be sure of on this cape. I don't wonder they called it cod. If it wasn't for the captain, we couldn't even have eggs and chicken. Mr. Sanderson laughed. It's lucky we came down with the idea of leading a simple life, for it is certainly difficult to secure adequate provisions for the table. Now it is a surprise to me that someone doesn't go in for poultry-raising and truck-farming on a large scale. There isn't any reason in the world why it shouldn't pay well. Danny was leaning his elbows on the piazza rail, idly watching for James to bring round the pony-cart, but although his thoughts appeared to be far away, he had heard all that was sad. Ruffles, there's a cow out in the driveway! He mildly announced. Go poke her out into the lane, Danny, suggested his father. But Danny did not move. He appeared to be considering the proposition. Then very slowly he queried in an argumentative tone. Well, but dad, suppose the cow should poke me? Never mind Danny Kins, laughed Ruth. Here comes James with the horses. He'll attend to her. Danny walked quickly over to his father, leaned against his chair, reached up, and tucked his fingers inside Mr. Sanderson's collar. If you please, I think I may need a little money this morning. He said, I haven't spend any money since we came to Harwich, you know. But there isn't much to buy down here, is there? Well, said Danny, with his hands in his pockets, perhaps I shan't buy anything, but I'll tell you when I get back, please. So a dollar bill was transferred from Mr. Sanderson's pocket to Danny's, and the pony-cart started off with a very definite air about it, as though it knew just where it was going. Ruth was off for the fish-houses. She was untrammeled by any petty rules of tradition, having been brought up to regard truth, sincerity, wisdom, and regard for the rights and welfare of others, with pity and helpfulness for the weak, the helpless, and dumb animals, as the fundamental principles of all right living. So she had no hesitation from any false pride to accept the captain's playful suggestion in regard to a fish-basket, and the cottagers along the way had come to watch for the girl with the basket on horseback. She had also won the admiration, a very courteous admiration, from the fishermen themselves. Mr. Sanderson had a business errand to attend to this morning, so the pony-cart was left to its own devices. Chrysanthemum's little hoofs clipped off the paces with much but he couldn't cover ground in competition with either Bonnie or Farmer Boy, so he was soon left behind. It was no surprise to James, when Danny turned in at the Frost's driveway, as it was almost impossible to pass that enticing spot without stopping to, well, perhaps to feed the chickens, or possibly to be fed yourself with one of Eunice's cookies, and anyway to say hello. Besides, the captain was almost always somewhere in sight, and, of course, he'd expect you to stop just a minute. Yes, sir, re, just as I told you, for there he is this very minute out by the barn talking to Mr. Dick Huntington. Danny told Kiss'em to hurry, and waved his whip to Uncle Captain. How the old captain loved to have this dear might of humanity coming in to see him every day. Hi there, General, what's up today? He hailed, as chrysanthemum was brought to a stand. Danny jumped to the ground, passed the reins to James, and, removing his hat, followed his usual custom of shaking the captain's big, strong hand, and then he greeted Richard. He often found Richard talking to this special friend of his. Uncle Captain, began Danny, could you, do you think you could spare a hen? Why, I guess I might manage to get along if I let one go. Does do we want one for dinner? No, I mean a live one. A live one? Where would you keep it? There was an interested twinkle in the captain's eyes by now. I'm going to give it away, explained Danny. Oh, I see. Did you want me to ship it somewhere for you? No, I thought I'd take it right now and carry it over to those ladies in the woods, you know, what had their house almost burned. A week's acquaintance with Danny was more than enough to convince any reasonable-minded person that there was always a raison d'etre for most all his actions and thoughts. So now the captain and Richard exchanged interested glances tinged with curiosity. Oh, you mean Miss Susan Simkins? Yes, that's her. You see, if she had a hen, the hen could borne some little chickens, and then more peoples could have eggs for breakfast, and she could have the money. I see, but Danny, they... Just at this point Richard nudged the captain. Let's go take a look at the hens, he suggested, and pick out a suitable one. All right, General, come along and take your pick. Danny started on the run. Richard saw possibilities of a bit of fun. I say, Captain, if you happen to have a broody hen, let Danny have her and I'll follow the matter up. It won't do any harm, that is, if you want to let the hen go. The captain chuckled, but where on earth you think Susan Simkins can keep a hen gets me? However, Danny shall have the hen, and then it's up to you. So Danny was obliged to choose a certain big, fat, white hen, which had stowed herself away on some hay in a corner of the barn. Eunice produced a basket with a cover in which the purchase was stowed, and Danny paid the captain thirty cents, the sum he was assured to be entirely sufficient for the valuations set on the transaction. Not being versed in the market price of poultry, Danny had no hesitation, and he carefully put back the change in his pocket. Richard carried the basket to the pony cart, gave James the wink, and directed him the nearest way to the house in question. I shall be calling there myself this morning, he said, and as I can walk through a footpath which is a short cut I may arrive nearly as soon as you do. Aren't you going to see Auntie Frost and Mary Danny, asked the captain? Well, you see, it's a very busy morning. Perhaps I'll come in again by and by. Get up, kiss'em! The captain chuckled at the air of weighty responsibility with which the small boy had picked up the reins and driven away, carrying with him a much disturbed hen and a greatly mystified James. Lord, I must go tell Mother about Susan Simpkins being set up in the poultry business. Come along, Richard, sorry I can't come and see the fun. Drop in later and tell us about it. Richard took the low fence at a running jump and was off across lots. Just the same he's a crackerjack little kid, and I'm not sure he hasn't hit on a bright thought. And Richard pondered on the doings of Danny as he hurried along. He proposed to let Danny open the play and occupy the stage alone at first. So when he drew near the tiny house, the present standing of which was due in good part to his own efforts, he looked about for a place where he could be concealed and yet be able to observe what was going on. He just made it in point of time, for he already heard the little sputtering thud of kiss'em's hoofs on the soft, sandy roadway. A little to one side of the blackened trail of the fire there was a small clump of scrub oak and bayberry bushes which would serve as a convenient screen, and here he ensconced himself. There were sounds proceeding from within the house, testifying to the presence of at least one of the sisters. Then as the pony-cart came in sight he heard calls of Susan, Susan, come here quick! The tones of Sarah's voice weren't exactly what you'd call modulated. My, ain't they cute! she squealed. Why, I believe the little boy is coming here. Yes he is. Who do you suppose he is? Ain't he pretty? Danny's step was slightly hesitant and his chin was not so high as customary. It wasn't as easy as he thought it was going to be to go up to two strange women and hand over his present. He had a way of twisting one of his fingers in his curls when slightly embarrassed, and the forefinger of his right hand was very tightly twisted as he walked toward the house. Buck up, little general, whispered Richard. The worst is yet to come. Danny stepped up to the door and timidly wrapped. Good morning! He said to Miss Susan who opened the door almost immediately. Howdy-do! was the response from Miss Susan, echoed by Miss Sarah whose face peered over her sister's shoulder at the sunny-haired visitor. Won't you come in? She asked. Well, you see, I bring you a present, and I guess I better go get it. It's out in the pony cart. Danny turned to run, but after a few steps he hesitated, wheeled about, waved a chubby hand and called, I'll bring it right in. The sisters looked at each other open-mouthed, too astonished for speech, and waited for further developments. They saw the boy try to lift a basket from the cart, but finding it too heavy, he jumped in and drove up close to the door, where James, touching his cap, lifted the basket to the ground. Here, tis, cried Danny, not stopping to think, he lifted the corner and out flew a clucking, cadarketing hen with such a fluster that the sisters screamed, kiss him shy, and Danny flew after the long-legged, seven-league boot half-stride and half-flight of the hen. James grinned, and Richard concluded the psychological moment had arrived. He was quite well known now to the Mrs. Simpkins, for he often stopped in his walks through the woods for a chat with the ladies. Richard, you must remember, was constantly on the lookout for raw material to be cooked up in tempting dishes, to be served on paper at some future time to a somewhat satiated public. Oh, Mr. Huntington! called Miss Sarah, waving her apron wildly and hastening to meet him. Do you happen to know who that little boy is? He says he brought us a present, and it's a live hen! So I perceive, he said. Well, the first thing to do is to catch the hen. You go head her off up the left field, while I stalk from the rear. Laughed Richard, suiting the action to the word in so energetic a manner that Miss Simpkins caught the spirit and moved to place on the left field. Danny had just made a touchdown, but the hen slipped from underneath, made straight in Miss Susan's direction, giving that estimable lady such a panic that she rushed for the little entry, seized an umbrella which she forthwith commenced to wildly open and shut to the extreme bewilderment of the much- befuddled hen, who, with high and stately steps, retreated to center, poised on one foot, holding the other high in protest, and surveyed the enemy by which she was now surrounded. Richard upfield, Danny left center, and Miss Susan and Miss Sarah at opposite corners, with James for umpire, holding on to his stomach with both hands and trying to straighten out the muscles of his face. Oh, Lord! he groaned in a painful ecstasy of delight. Richard made several wild gestures, and slowly and cautiously the outlying circle began to draw up toward the center of the field, and just at this point Ruth came strolling quietly down the same path over which Richard had recently trod. She paused by the identical clump of scrub oaks which had acted as a screen for him, and her eyes ran quickly from one to another of the scattered group, but she did not at once see the hen. Hmm! must be some new game! who's it? I wonder! Miss Sarah still clutched her apron, and Miss Susan the umbrella. Danny's hat hung on his shoulders, and his face wore the determination of an Indian chief on the war-path, and Mr. Richard was plainly having the time of his life. He held a little back of the others, for he anticipated a rush, which is just what happened. There were frantic grabs and shrieks, but a flopping, squawking mass of white floundered out of the scrimmage. Richard was ready for her. With a high jump he just managed to catch her by the leg to the huge delight of all but the hen, who shortly found herself tucked under Richard's arm with her wings held close. Landsakes! what a time! Panted Miss Sarah. Why, there comes Ruffles, shouted Danny. He started joyously to meet his sister, but turned to call back. Don't let her get away again, Mr. Dick! Which bit of advice or warning it is to be inferred had reference to the hen. Not on your life, Danny, chuckled Richard under his breath, with a special inference all his own. Now, Miss Sarah, began Richard in a confidential aside, please introduce me to the young lady, for I have never met her formally. Landsakes, you don't have to wait for introductions down here, but just as you say, she whispered, as they drew near the young woman in question. Folding her hands very properly and with a polite pucker, Miss Sarah said, Miss Sanderson, be you acquainted with Mr. Huntington? It was a very saucy face brimming with mischievous memories of their previous encounters that looked up to Richard. Not from an eastern point of view, she said, with a little gesture of acknowledgment, then the sight of the blinking hen was too much for her, and she burst into an irresistible peel of merriment. What is the name of the game? She chuckled. I just got in at the finish. Richard smiled complacently, first at the hen, and then at Ruth. At last he was in a position to enroll himself as her friend, and she should have all the fun she wanted so long as he might share it. This, said he, is business pure and simple, a new firm is about to be incorporated, your brother provides the capital, the initial stock palpitates neath my left arm, and the firm name is to be the Simkin Sisters, concluding his short speech with a comprehensive sweep of his right arm and a sly wink at the two older ladies. Now we should be very glad to enter your name on the books as a regular customer for eggs and broilers. Danny had been standing with his eyes glued to that hen, ready to grab should she make a second attempt to escape. Now he looked up at Ruth with a smile. You see, ruffles, I bide the hen of Uncle Captain and gave it to the ladies. Oh, I see, or at least I begin to see. So this little boy must be a brother to the pretty Miss Sanderson, who had been so energetic at the time of the fire, thought the sisters. Land-sakes, Mr. Huntington, whatever are we going to do with that hen? Why, said Richard, that's simple. Just for the present we'll have to return her to the basket. And then, turning to Ruth, if Miss Sanderson will accompany me through the woods to the village, we'll procure suitable material, have it sent up, and in a short time Chicken Little will have a domicile worthy of a pioneer in a new enterprise. I'm quite a carpenter, as you shall see. Then we'll get a setting of eggs, and the business is launched. Captain Frost will give you all the desirable information, as to care and feeding, at vous voilà! Judging by the number of times that Susan and Sarah traveled out to the temporary hen-coupe that night to feed or to watch their new pet, Danny's inspiration was surely a success in more ways than one. A new interest was awakened in the somewhat dreary existence of the two, and the incentive to succeed from another point of view grew each day. When the soft bright-eyed Downie Little chicks hatched out, there was excitement indeed, and everyone within hailing distance must needs come and see their treasures. Danny, Ruffles, Richard, and Uncle Captain, having launched the affair, did not allow their good work to languish for the lack of grain, feed, additional pellets, and finally a proud disdainful and lordly young rooster, which arrived with the compliments of Danny. Richard put in considerable time to enlarging the quarters. Before the summer was over, they all felt well repaid, for the sisters really showed signs of growing younger. They were obliged to be much of the time in the open air, where previously they had remained indoors, generally with windows closed or blinds drawn. CHAPTER XIV Here they come! Oh, Nora, do look at Captain Frost's face! Wouldn't you think he was going to have all his teeth out? laughed Mrs. Perry. She was tying her hat down firmly with a fetching automobile veil. This was to be the Captain's initial motor-trip. He had held off a long time, but at last allowed himself to be over-persuaded by the combined entreaties of Mary and the Sandersons. After greetings had been exchanged, Mary and Perry shook her finger at the Captain playfully. Now, if I'm to sit with you, Captain, you've got to change your face a little bit, she sparkled. Do you feel as bad as you look, poor dear? Well if you really want to know why I feel some as I used to when I see a thick bank of fog closing in, that was the only thing as ever I was afraid of. And then I tell you, you're sort of helpless, not knowing what you may run up against any minute. There'd be about as much sense in putting a steam-yacht at a fourteen-knot clip through Marblehead Harbor, when the New York Yacht Club is anchored there, as the pace these show-offers take right through the middle of town. Mary's as gravity broke at this and he joined in the general laugh. Mr. Sanderson was carefully tucking a dust-robe over the soft clinging draperies of Mary's summer gown. She sat in the seat beside James. Mr. Sanderson and Jack were to occupy the side seats. Are you perfectly comfortable? He asked. Mary gave a laughing glance into his kindly eyes. It seems to me I am never anything else when you are around. He made no rejoinder, but she met such a look of personal concern for her welfare in the steadied depths of his brown eyes, that her own eyes fell in some confusion, and her heartbeats became a bit unruly. Danny, Elise, and Nancy, who were to be left in Dewey's care, were gathered about to see the start. Then Perry kissed them all and urged them to be good children. What shall I bring you from Hyannis? What would you like, Elsie? She asked, turning to the sweet, serious face of her firstborn. Oh, mother! cried Elsie with an ecstatic little gesture. Will you bring me a hatpin and a barrette? I've wanted one for years! Elise, looking eagerly into the little mother's face, did not see the amused expressions of the onlookers. But mothers know their babies well, and this little mother was wise enough to take her children seriously, although it was often very difficult to hide her own mirth at their funny ideas. Not a hatpin, dearie, but a barrette, if you wish. Thank you, mother! And the little child trouble had only the faintest shade of disappointment in it, at only half the request being granted. Now, Nance, what do you wish for? Nance was on the point of turning a somersault in the grass. She completed the circle, came to a sitting posture, and, with the light of a gypsy in her eyes, announced that a hurdy-gurdy would make her quite happy. Danny thought he'd like a bean blower. Come along, little mother, let's get this thing over, called Captain Frost. You're so small, Mr. Sanderson has put you between me and mother, so you won't bounce out. Three pairs of dimpled hands waved from the gateway as the car rolled smoothly and almost noiselessly off on the hard, sandy road, for James was a skilled mechanic and took great pride in keeping the running gear in perfect condition. They had not gone many miles before the Captain allowed his muscles to relax, and before he knew it he was actually enjoying the easy, luxurious motion and the familiar flying landscape. Dewey started the kitties happily playing house in the sandpile and then strolled across the street to chat with Eunice, who was watering the plants. She could glance over and count heads every few minutes. In their games of house, Danny was the father, Elise the mother, and Nance the baby, always. Here on earth Nance had ever had sufficient opportunity to observe the ways of a small infant to an extent which would account for her wonderful acting of the part it would be hard to tell. Her saucy face, usually so instinct with feeling and emotion, became a blank with the groping expression of a little newcomer all at sea as to the possible meaning of strange sights and sounds. Her little hands doubled up and fought the air. It was a pity there was no one there to see. Now, said Elise, it's Sunday and we must go to church. All right, I'll get the cart. And Danny ran to fetch the little express wagon. He got a down pillow from the piazza and they put the baby in, or to be perfectly literal, she tumbled in. Elise fetched some books and off they trundled across the meadow to a tree in a corner of the fence which was always their church. Standing under the old willow tree they opened their books. What shall we sing? asked Elise, looking with thoughtful eyes at Danny. The Christmas song, said Danny, little Lord Jesus lies asleep. Don't you know it? No, we don't. Nance replied with a shake of her head. But you tell us how, she suggested. All right, agreed Danny, laying his book on the ground. What are you doing that for? Demanded Nance. We always have books in church. Why, I has to go through the motions. Announced Danny with emphasis. Nance and Elise stood in front of Danny with wonder, interest and expectation in their earnest little faces while he sang the song as he had been totted at Christmas time. Little Lord Jesus lies asleep, lullaby, lullaby. He sang, his pure, bird-like tones easily following the simple, sweet melody. His dimpled arms cradled and rocking to the rhythm of the music. Over his head the brightest stars peep, lullaby. Here Danny raised his hands above his head and his fingers twinkled to represent the stars. Then they dropped to the swinging motion again. Only a manger bet at best, he passed through him the world. Dropping on his little bare knees and clasping his innocent hands, he concluded the Christmas carol. Shepherds, I need joyful their praises too. Since a born mimic had followed Danny's gestures, crooning under her breath as she felt her way through the song, mostly on two or three notes nearly in octave below Danny, Elise's music-loving soul glowed in her shadowy eyes. The only visible audience to this charming child tribute was a tiny father chickadee perched on the fence rail, turning his diminutive head from side to side and waiting for the children to move on so it might be safe to dart into the very small hole in the fence post and drop a bit of worm into the waiting baby bird mouth. He had not very long to wait. The song finished, dispensing with any such necessary ceremony as an amen, the books were slammed shut and the family started for home. Danny seemed to be turning over in his mind as to what was best to do next. Don't you think the baby needs a shampoo? He suggested. Why, yes, I guess she does, agreed Elise. The baby pricked up her ears at the mention of a shampoo, a naughty sparkle flickered in her eye, and when the question of water was raised she assumed an expression of astonishing intelligence. There was a pail of water at the back of her father's tent, this she knew having been punished once for being caught sitting in it and watching the red from her little sweater gradually dye the water a brilliant scarlet. So like a flash her feet twinkled out to the pail and she returned with a basin dripping water at every step. Oh, goodie! exclaimed Danny. Now I'll have to be the men's to do the shampoo. Oh, dear! His face fell at the thought of a new difficulty. We'd ought to have something in a bottle to shake out. His voice trailed off into an interrogation point. It only took a minute for Elise to run to the kitchen and produce a bottle. It happened to be a bottle of bluing. All right! Now, baby, you lean your head over the basin and shut your eyes. Danny's chubby hands grasped the bottle and sprinkled the contents liberally over Nancy's hair, rubbing it well in with much energy. It's not just the right color, remarked Elise doubtfully. It ought to be kinder red instead of blue, but never mind. Nancy giggled and sputtered as the water ran down her neck. Her hair became more and more gloriously blue and a creeping sense of something wrong assailed the more thoughtful Elise. I guess you better rinse it off now, Mr. Manes. I'll go get a towel. But unfortunately rinsing didn't seem to help matters any. Oh, my, you're a sight! cried Elise, her eyes wide with horror. The wiping process was not very thoroughly done. Little streams of blue trickled down Nancy's nose and fell to her dress when she stamped her foot in displeasure, not approving of the unseemly stares of her two playmates. Quick as a flash, she started across the street for Dewey and Eunice. Danny and Elise followed slowly as far as the fence, climbed to the lower rail, and watched proceedings. Do you suppose it'll ever come off? queried Danny. What will MOTHER say? wondered Elise. End of Chapter 14. Chapter 15 of Ruffles and Danny or the Responsibility of Ruffles by Marjorie Watson. This Libra Box recording is in the public domain. Chapter 15. My goodie blakes, Nancy Perry, whatever have you done? It was Eunice who saw her first. I didn't do it, Danny did it, grieved Nancy. Her finger went to her mouth and her eyes flashed defiance. She had come for sympathy and met only the same amused, horrified, uncomplementary stares. Dewey was the first to recover. Oh, that boy! In a tone of exasperation and despair. If he was mine, I'd just give him a good licking, that's what I'd do. With rage in her heart she started toward the golden-haired sinner with the face of an angel. But Nancy had started down the street again, still in search of much-needed sympathy, and now she felt sure she would find it, fur leisurely strolling along the road, swinging their tennis rackets with glowing cheeks, flying locks, and rather weary feet, came Ruth, Dorothea, Richard, Betty, and their friends after a strenuous morning on the courts at the country club. Nancy had spied them. Dorothea was always ready with sympathy and comfort for her beloved niece. But Nancy wasn't at all prepared for the shocking behavior of Dorothea's friends. Even Betty sat right down in a heap where she had stood by the side of the road. Nat Sterling scrambled up the nearest tree in pretended fright. As for Richard, he sprang to the top of a wall wildly waving his head and crying, to Humperty, dump with Yale! And Ruth leaned against the wall and held her sides with laughing. Dorothea picked up the weeping, forget me not, padded and soothed and whispered loving words till Nancy could get her breath to tell the story. And Ruth became sober. I might have known the minute I saw her that Danny had a hand in it. However, will we get it off? groaned Betty. Wash it, of course, volunteered Richard. What's the matter with going in bathing, all hands, and Nancy can contribute a touch of glory to the occasion. We might as well get some fun out of the job. Come on, Nancy, we'll soon fix you all right? said Ronald, swinging her up to his broad shoulder. The rest of you can go, but it's up to me to punish Danny, since dad's not at home, said Ruth, with sober eyes. Oh, I say, the little chap didn't mean to do any harm. He didn't know it would be like that. Interposed Richard with a grin. Let him off this time. But Ruth was firm. He's got to be taught somehow to stop and think. I don't know just how, but we've got to make an attempt at it anyway. You all go on and take a lease with you. Danny and I'll have it out together. Half an hour later Danny was seated in the middle of his little white bed, arrayed in his night clothes, his chubby, pink little feet drawn up under him sideways, his hands clasped, and his golden curls bobbing emphatically while he argued with ruffles who sat on the edge of the bed. I know, but ruffles, when you're playing house you has to do just what real peoples do. It's not naughty to have your hair shampooed. No Danny, but little children can't do just what grown ups do. You should remember you're only playing. You should have made believe shampoo and not use real water, and just pretend you had a bottle of hair tonic. After this, remember not to use real water. Not ever ruffles? Not unless somebody older is with you and says you may. Oh, dear, seems to me everything you really wants to do is bad. I just wish good was naughty and naughty was good. I sometimes wish that myself, honey, but it isn't, so we have to make the best of it. I will get your little French book, Danny, and you can be saying over the names of the pictures to yourself. Here it is. I will leave the door open and sit on the piazza. At five o'clock do we fixed a tempting, though simple, supper on a tray to carry up to, poor little capon. Passing through the dining-room with it, she spied the bean-blower where Mr. Sanderson had laid it when he returned from motoring. She hesitated, then muttered to herself, Poor baby, I guess he's punished enough. I don't see why he shouldn't have this. She had had time to get over her displeasure. Love quickly followed anger where Danny was concerned, so she carried it up with her, hiding it until he had eaten heartily of the good food. Do we, I want you to stay here, urged Danny when he had finished. I can't, little cap, she replied, with a snuggle under his chin to make him laugh. I've got to get supper for your dad and Miss Ruth, but which hand will you have? She asked, placing both hands behind her back. A slow smile donned on Dewey's subdued little face. What you got, Dewey? He coaxed. She held the bean-blower high above her head, tantalizingly. Danny sprang up with a shout, and a scrimmage was on. After the frolic, Dewey left Danny comparatively happy and went down to her duties. He was satisfied just at first to look at the bean-blower and handle it. And then suddenly it occurred to him that he wanted something to blow through it. He certainly couldn't get any beans upstairs, but he was a boy of great resources. He gazed about the room for an inspiration, spied some folded tissue paper, pattered across the room, secured it, and clambered back into bed. He tore off a small piece, made a little wad of it, moistened it in his mouth, then blew through the tin tube toward the ceiling. To his great surprise it stuck there. Danny chuckled. That's a stunt! thought he. Their little wad followed the first. This one fell to the floor, and Danny looked disappointed, but not discouraged. The third and fourth stuck close by the first, and Danny settled down to business. Lying on his back, he peppered the ceiling till he tired of the sport, grew drowsy, and with a sigh of content, closed his big brown eyes and drifted into dreamland. Coming in a half an hour later, for a good night talk, and to hear Danny say his prayers, Ruth looked in amazement at the ceiling, wondering if wasps had started to build a nest. She tiptoed over to the bed, and looked long at the sleeping boy, the picture of sweet innocence. Her heart glowed with love for the brother, and her artist soul was filled with satisfaction for the perfection of his physical beauty. Is there anything in this world more beautiful than Danny asleep? Had the query actually been voiced, and put to, well, say Richard, he might have looked into the depths of the questioning eyes of Danny's sister, their fringes lifted from cheeks scarcely less glowing than Danny's own. He might have glanced from Danny's short, clinging golden curls to the waves of dusky, glossy, shining tendrils that caressed Ruth's cheek with every passing breeze, and refused to give an unqualified affirmative. Ruth caught sight of the beanblower which had slipped from Danny's relaxed hand, then her glance took in the torn bits of paper. A puzzled frown ruffled her forehead, which slowly changed to dawning enlightenment. She drew a chair beneath the spotted portion of the ceiling, and stood upon it to get a near view. Perfectly satisfied, she got carefully down, turned again toward the unconscious worker of mischief with a smile and a little gesture of enforced surrender. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, she whispered. Slipping quietly out of the room, she ran down to the piazza to tell the patter, and Richard and Mary, who had run over with the news that Nancy's hair was still blue in spite of a thorough scrubbing, and also to put in a word of conciliation for the much-loved Danny. CHAPTER XVI I say, Miss Ruth, it's positively painful, you know, this spasm of unseasonable energy. I shouldn't think you'd like to be the cause of upsetting a fellow's peace of mind in this fashion. Richard nibbled indolently at a blade of grass he had just reached out to Paul. Ruth gave him a merry glance of inspection over her shoulder. Then turning again to her work, she replied, I see no outward expression of internal disturbance mental or otherwise. It strikes me that an unbiased opinion from an impartial observer might be to the effect that the amount of peace radiating from you at the present moment would call to mind the Hague Conference. That only goes to show what careful control I have over my nervous system and the marvelous ability I have acquired in concealing the war of emotions raging within. Ruth dropped one of her modeling tools, and Richard was obliged to resign his position of repose where he had sat comfortably leaning back against the fence with his hands clasped about his knees to pick it up, for Ruth had in her lap a large wooden board which held her clay and a variety of tools. By Jove, you have just caught the spirit of the thing to a right smart degree and no mistake! He exclaimed, kneeling on one knee to replace the dropped tool on the board as he admired Ruth's work, a small bar relief of Captain Frost's gateway with its carved posts guarded by pink blossoming altheas, the straight, flower-bordered walk and the beautiful doorway. The whole place looks just like Mrs. Frost and Mary, doesn't it? asked Ruth. The Captain's a deer, but somehow you don't feel that he's responsible for the physical aspect of the place. He's a grand man, but there's a statelyness, a dignity and refinement about his beautiful wife that one rarely sees. I do hope I shall become proficient enough to paint her in oils some day, not too far away. Of course Mrs. Frost accounts for the architecture of the house, for I imagine it's the only one of its kind on the whole cape. Miss Mary told me the other day all about the beginning of the Captain's romantic courtship. What's that? Tell you so you can get points? Poo! There's no such thing as romance nowadays! Dad says there's something out of joint in this generation. I suppose he knows. I don't bother my head about it. She said with a tilt of her pointed chin. Well, this is how the Captain met his lady. Ruth was busily working all the while she rattled on, and Richard now settled back again to his former position and lighted a cigarette. It seems that Mrs. Frost's father was a ship chandler, fitted out vessels with supplies you know for their long trips. One day the Captain was in the store making purchases and preparing for a trip to the East Indies. He stood chatting with Mr. Palfrey, that was Mrs. Frost's father, who stooped to pick up a kitten they kept about the place. As he stood, a little pocket photograph case fell from his vest pocket to the floor, and Captain Frost hastened to pick it up for the older man. It had flown open, and two photographs were exposed to view. One a very beautiful young woman, the other obviously her mother. "'Pardon me, Mr. Palfrey,' said the Captain, handing back the card case to its owner. But those are wonderfully beautiful faces you are carrying about with you, sir.' Mr. Palfrey opened the case and looked at them with pardonable pride. "'Yes, sir,' said he, "'none lovelier, my wife and daughter, Captain Frost. Did you get a good look at them?' He passed it back for a closer inspection. The young man studied one of the faces for some moments. Was she really as handsome as that?' he asked, still holding the case in his hand as though loathed to part with it. "'They are,' replied Mr. Palfrey, with a twinkle in his eyes as he took back the precious case and returned it to his vest pocket. Shortly after the sailing of the aerial, Mr. Palfrey received a letter from Captain Frost, mailed at New York, in which he confessed that the pictured face of the photograph case was ever before his mind, and asked if, knowing as Mr. Palfrey did all about his character, his ancestry, and his prospects, he would be willing that the Captain should call on his daughter as soon as he returned, with a view to winning her love if possible. He begged for a reply to be mailed to some port I forget where. Mr. Palfrey stated in his reply that he certainly had no objection to the Captain's calling upon his daughter, that he personally thought very highly of his friend Captain Frost, and if he succeeded in his suit, precious as his beloved daughter was, he felt she would be in worthy hands. He advised the Captain not to be overconfident, as there were several already doing their best to win her heart, and he was bound to say in all fairness, however, that so far she had smiles for all alike, with no hint of special favour for any. Mr. Palfrey had, of course, showed the Captain's letter to his daughter, and acquainted her with his own reply. Being a man, Mr. Huntington, I suppose it would be quite impossible for you to imagine how her heart must have stood still for a second, when, one day, months later, Mr. Palfrey came home and said, Mollie, the aerial cast anchor in the harbor this morning. Well, no, perhaps I can't, but, being a man, I can jolly well realize what courage it took to walk up and ring the Palfrey's doorbell that evening. It must have been a brass knocker-goosey, not a bell. So much the worse in its effect at such a psychological moment. The Captain must have been something of a good looker himself. I should have liked to have seen them as bride and groom. I suppose he scoured the indies for fitting gifts to bring home to his lady to be. That's what! Mary showed me some of the things. There, I'm through for today. One more morning we'll finish this. It sprang to his feet to relieve her of the board which he promised to carry most carefully, and Ruth picked up the little camp stool. Why don't girls wear that sort of thing often, or, asked Richard, looking with appreciation at the pretty work apron which protected Ruth's dainty white gown? It's mighty fetching, you know. Thanks! But when, other than a similar occasion to the present one, would you have them wear it? Pray! Oh, well, I suppose it's because it has a domestic air that a fellow likes the look of it. Come along, urged Ruth. The Captain always wants to see the progress of his clay doorway. We must go up and show it to him. Ship ahoy! She cried as they came inside of the Captain, tipped back in his favourite chair. Aye, aye, mate! Blows she fair today? Coming out the Captain, the front legs of his chair coming down with a thud. Let's get a look at her. He rose, slipped his glasses down from their perch on the top of his head to his nose, and peered through them with his sharp blue eyes. Now I want to know Richard if it isn't pretty slick, hey? He turned his beaming face first on Richard, and then toward Ruth, pride and pleasure writ large all over it. Richard will want to see it. Just lay it down on the table there while I go fetch her. Sit down, children, I'll be right back," he said as he entered the house. He returned shortly with his rosy cheeked, white-haired lady whom Ruth rose to meet, softly kissing the blooming cheeks. Oh, if I could only paint you! She sighed with a little despair in her young voice. Why, dearie, so you will one of these days. Your father tells me he's going to leave you in Boston for a course at the art school, and first thing we know you'll be famous. I may live to see my portrait hung on the line in the salon, who knows. Now let's see the doorway. It's just fine, Ruthie, and we're as proud as can be, aren't we, William? Deed we are, mother, but look who's coming. From round the far corner of the house, in the direction of the kitchen, Danny was sauntering along, Peter Pan as usual rubbing about his legs and coaxing for a frolic. Today he seemed especially assertive, frequently rising on his hind legs and pushing his head under Danny's arm. "'Danny must have been visiting Eunice,' said Ruth. "'How came he over here?' "'Why, your father came over with him, Ruthie. The apparatus has arrived, which he sent to Boston for, in order to teach Mary to swim properly. My, how he did tease the captain for having a daughter who couldn't swim!' The dear lady laughed softly in reminiscence of the jolly-ing the captain received. Only jolly-ing isn't a word she herself would have used. They're down on the float now, having the first lesson. Mary didn't want an audience, so they have gone in a little ahead of time, and they left Danny here. Talk about wanting to paint, Ruthie. I should think Danny would be a constant inspiration. For every time I look at him, it seems to me he's a picture. Every posture, every expression, seems lovelier than the last." Danny was drawing nearer. He wore a freshly laundered white P.K. Russian suit, with red sailor collar and belt. The straw sailor hat, bound with red ribbon, had fallen back on his shoulders, where it usually was as a matter of fact, uncovering his glistening head. He made sturdy attempts to keep Peter in his proper place on the ground, for Peter's persistence seemed to be slightly annoying. Peter Pan, I'll swat you if you don't behave! He threatened, in a tone intended to intimidate, but which failed to repulse Peter. Hi, Danny, called Ruth. Danny stood still and looked at Ruth with a slightly hesitating, questioning little cock to his head. Well, kiddo, why don't you come along up? inquired his sister. I'm coming! He drawled and continued on his way, but still with a little lack of his usual ease of manner. Peter seems to love you an awful lot today, Danny Kins, said Ruth. Danny looked at Peter with a frown of displeasure. Taint me! He replied dubiously. He wants my cigar. Wants what? exclaimed Ruth. Danny turned red, and his chubby hand went up in an attempt to cover some object protruding from his blouse pocket. There was a slight pause, and glances exchanged between all the others. Danny, dear, come to Auntie Frost and tell her where you got a cigar. With a gesture inviting confidence Mrs. Frost held her hands out to Danny, who went to her knees, still jealously guarding the object of interest. I—I—took it out of the refrigerator, said Danny. Please, can't I keep it? Mrs. Frost looked puzzled. Let's see it, dearie, she suggested. Danny drew from his blouse pocket a long, slim, brown, cold-fried sausage, and placed it in Mrs. Frost's hand. It's my cigar! He reaffirmed in a beseeching tone. Ruth stuffed a handkerchief in her mouth and fled precipitately through the nearest door. Richard dodged around the corner. The captain shook with silent laughter, and Mrs. Frost, in her wisdom, was left to deal with a situation which seemed to call for considerable argument and suggestion. CHAPTER XVII Jock Tuttle was off for Monomoy in the petrol with only one passenger. Eunice Pease had a day off, and Jock had agreed to sail her over to the sandy point of land where a friend of hers lived at the life-saving station. It was a good nine-miles sail. They were obliged to beat down taking several tax, but coming back they would have a fair wind. The weather was all that could be desired. Eunice was something of a sailor and could take a hand at the tiller in case of need. Also when asked to cast off the main sheet, she could be relied upon not to make a mistake and loose the painter. They were on a long tack, and Eunice, seated with her back fitted into the hollowing sail, pulled her sunbonnet well down over her eyes. Jock was happily puffing at an old cob pipe. They had been silent for some time, only the rush of the churning water along the petrol's sides breaking the stillness as she cut her way through the short waves of the bay. Gosh! Jock broke out suddenly. I hate to see this summer slip and way. Seems to me I ain't never got quite so interested in any of our summer folks before. Don't like to think how lonesome it'll seem when Miss Ruth ain't here to jolly me and master Danny with his surprise in little ways. He gave a long, deep pull at his pipe, thoughtfully puffing out the smoke. Miss looked back at the receding houses along the beach and the river they had just left, answering Jock's mood. Yep, and we ain't the only ones what's going to feel lonesome nother. In some ways it's a kind of disturbing summer, too, happy as it's been. I'm sorta anxious about dear Mistress Mary. Eh? Ain't nothing the matter with Miss Mary, is there? Asked Jock with concern. Oh, no, only, well, nothing, I guess. Huh! If that ain't just like a woman for all the world, sneered Jock. Now what you hittin' at? Eunice looked at Jock with an expression of compassion for his man-like short-sightedness. Nothing'd ever penetrate that thick skull of yours till it was an accomplished fact, laughed Eunice. For seein' ain't exactly in your line, is it? No, taint, and I'm glad it's so. For seein' ain't dollars for noin'. Lungs Miss Mary's well, and I judge from the way she's progressing with them swimmin' lessons that her health's pretty good. Don't seize you've got much cause to worry. Ain't that tackle with the belt and pole and rope that Mr. Sanderson hitches onto her when she's learnin' them frog actions just clever, though? remarked Eunice. He a-holdin' her easy like from the float, and sayin' two, three, kick, bend. And Miss Mary doin' just as she's told, with never a fear a-drownin'. And they say up Boston Way there's buildings with large pools of water inside, all fitted up with marble floors and brass railings, where they teach folks to swim in the middle of winter. She doins, I call it. Miss Mary says taint real easy to learn to swim when you're goin' on thirty year old. She was tellin' me about the first time he let her swim with a slack rope, and said twas' all she could do to keep from bein' scared. She didn't darse to think of the water under her, and just kept her eyes on Mr. Sanderson's face every minute. She knew, of course, that he wouldn't let her drown, but it's a helpless feelin' that you can't touch nothin' solid, I bet. Eunice glanced over the side at the depth of rushing water with an expression of ah. Miss Ruth's the girl that can show him how, said jock, with as much pride as though he had a half-ownership in Danny's ruffles. She's some swimmer she is. She and Mr. Richard make a team, all right. They go off on a long course, side by side, and leave the others foolin' round, burnin' somersaults, and cuttin' up hijinks generally. Say, was you ever down on the beach when Miss Ruth and Danny come down in their bathing suits ready for a bath? No, don't know's I ever was, why? Well, yesterday I had beached the Dory, and was settin' along her rail, waitin' for a party to come down to go out fishin'. There was a whole crowd of folks sprinkled all over the beach, all kinds of shapes settin' round and sprawlin' round in bathin' suits, and others in their fancy duds with gray parasols, men in white flannels and others liin' in the sand gettin' a good coat of tan on, to make a show when they go back to town. Here jock removed his pipe to give a half chuckle. And groups of women here and there with their crocheting. And then I see Miss Ruth and Master Danny comin' down from the bath-house. Well, T'was a pretty sight all right. I ain't much at describin', but she's so slim and straight and round and stocky, and her face just like a flower in a pretty cap with little rosette things on the side. And Master Danny's sturdy little figure makin' you think a cherub's. Don't he look as though he'd just stepped straight out of heaven? Well, you'd ought to have seen the whispers goin' round, and the nudgin' and everyone turnin' to look at them too. Miss Ruth, just as unconcerned as Master Danny, noddin' here and there to friends, stoppin' on her way to say a word or two, and then goin' straight away on down to make Danny do stunts in the water. And he does him, too. Ain't no more afraid than nothin'. She says the first time she took him in, a wave struck him and knocked him over. She expected he'd be scared blue, and when she picked him up, soonce he could get his breath, he laughed up at her and said, It's rainin' ruffles! Then soonce he's had enough, that tall black girl takes him up and rubs him down, while Miss Ruth has her swim. It's kind of funny they're all so different from other folks, even to the black girl. There's an awful lot of style to her, and as for Mr. Sanderson, well, I ain't never seen a prince, but I should think a real prince might look and walk some like him. They're a mighty sightly lot, put in Eunice, but the best part of them, to my notion, is that they don't put on no heirs. They're all just as sweet and polite to every one they know, and Miss Ruth is just as particular to pay attention to me as she is to Miss Frost. That's so, that's just it. And there's a lot in that, too. It's the real princely people I find what's really the simplest, and seems to think the least about their fine clothes and things. You take some of them fellers in their white flannels, I bet they don't feel at home in them a bit. Kinders sorter as though they was out making their first party call, likes not. Not feeling quite sure whether they're doing the correct thing, eh? I know the kind, lots of them, too. Then there's some folks that, no matter what they have on, look noble, and you're sure they'd be at home anywhere and in the finest clothes if they had them to wear. Danny was telling me this morning that he had a secret. He couldn't tell me what it is, but just as soon as he could he would. But it's something about dancing, he said. Know anything about what he meant? Queery jock. The young folks have got something up their sleeve that they're awful busy about. Some kind of a show, I guess. I heard Miss Betty tell him the folks one day on the piazza, how, when she was in England last year, she went to a—well, I guess it was some sort of a birthday celebration given in honor of Shakespeare, or something like that. They had some old-fashioned dances, called Morris dances, and she learned some of them while she was over there. She told how there was some few old men left who had learned them when they was children from their fathers. And so they could tell the folks just how they used to be danced years and years ago. And I suspect that Miss Betty's teaching some of them to a lot of the young folks here. But just what it's all for, I don't know. They're awful busy about it. Go up to the hotel casino every day to practice. That's so, muse jock. I wonder now what sort of a show they're aiming at. Thus the two old friends gossiped all the way to Manamoy. jock put in his time on the point digging clams until Eunice called him into dinner. The dining-room, with its long table where the men on duty at the station in the winter season gather at mealtimes, was as neat and ship-shape as the deck of a government boat. During the month of July most of the men were off duty, and it happened today that Mrs. Burgess was all alone, living in such a lonely spot where most of the happenings out of the ordinary course of events, except for an occasional picnic party in summer, were in the nature of tragedies, she was greatly rejoiced to see her visitors and get all the news from up Harwich Way. Eunice regaled her with accounts of Danny and Nance and Elise. Land, it keeps you busy guessing what those young ones'll say next. She laughed, passing the delicately browned berry-cake to the hostess. Mrs. Perry was telling me how she's allers been in the habit of spelling words that she doesn't want the children to understand when she's talking to Mr. Perry. The other day Nance had a cold, so Mrs. Perry took Elsie aside and told her she could go in bathing, but she didn't want Nance to know when they went, for fear she'd be disappointed. So Elise kept still about it, but when it come a long time, she thought, to be going, Elise looks from Nance to her mother in a knowing way and says, Mother, how about those C-O-Ds? Mrs. Perry said she couldn't think whatever the child was driving at. What did you say, dear? She asked. How about those C-O-Ds? She says again, sort of impatient. C-O-Ds says her mother. What on earth do you mean, child? Mother, she says in a most disgusted tone, you know, those C-O-D bathing suits. After the laugh had subsided, Mrs. Burgess inquired for her old friend, Mr. Huntington. He ain't been down for most a fortnight. He says he feels obliged to come over once a week to jolly me up. Ain't he the clever young fellow, though? I was telling him the last time he come, that first along I was most afraid to talk to such a literary chap. Oh, wait till you see our artist, he says, then you will be scared. Artist says I. Yes, some artist, says he. Oh, you've got a talented set here this year. This artist says he. She's getting educated to illustrate my books. That's so, said I. Does she know it? Then he looked at me kind of queer and handsome as a pictor, but unusual serious for him. No, he says, she don't have any idea of it. Fate don't believe in telling folks what's going to happen to him in the years to come, to wouldn't be playing the game. No, says I, but Fate seems to have confided in some other folks, though. Oh, that's all right, says he with a twinkle in his eye. Two or three years from now I'll come down here and prove it. He looked so strong and determined and cocksure that I says to myself, guess you mean to lend a help in hand to Fate in case she needs it. Then I says, be you coming down at that time hitched single or double. Double so far as the harness is concerned, but single in mind and purpose, says he. And with that he walks off whistle and merry as can be, his hands clear down in his pockets, and I guess he walked clean round the point. Hmm. Jock drained the last drop of fragrant coffee from his cup. I wouldn't feel that Fate was making any mistake in hitching them two to pull together. But Miss Ruth ain't suspect in anything of the kind, either of Fate or of Mr. Richard. She's just so much alive and busy living in the present minute that she ain't threaten herself about the future. Not so as you'd notice it she ain't. Jock rose and strolled out to the barn for his after-dinner pipe while Eunice helped wash up the dishes and then it was time to set sail for the long-run home before a free wind. End of Chapter 17