Drift Off To Maida's Little House (Chapter 11 & 12)

Welcome back,

Drift Off listeners,

To another cozy evening on the podcast where I whisk you away to the land of dreams with sleepy tales.

I'm your host Joanne,

And tonight we continue our journey with Meda as I read a few more chapters from Meda's Little House,

The second book from the beloved Meda series.

We will embark on a magical journey with Meda and all of her friends,

Where they spend a happy summer together in a sweet little house in the country that has everything a child could wish for.

This book highlights themes of friendship,

Independence,

And the joy of simple pleasures in a young girl's journey towards health and happiness.

Now,

Go ahead and close your eyes.

Take a slow,

Deep,

Comfortable breath.

Hold it for a moment,

And exhale slowly.

Feel the tension melting away from your body as you prepare to drift off into a world of wonder and imagination.

And so,

My friend,

Lay back,

Relax,

And let the soothing narration lull you into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter 11 Visitors After the second Thursday,

Which was Florabelle's and Zeke's day out,

Came the second Saturday of the children's day in the little house.

And on that Saturday,

All the parents came to situate from Charleston to see how their children were getting on.

Mr.

And Mrs.

Brine,

Mr.

And Mrs.

Lathrop,

Mr.

And Mrs.

Clark,

Mr.

And Mrs.

Doyle,

Mr.

And Mrs.

Hale.

Arthur had no mother,

But Mr.

Duncan appeared with the rest.

Mr.

Westerbrook appeared at odd moments and helped entertain the guests.

The children of these parents were so excited that Meda and Dickie lamented loudly that they had no relatives to show the little house.

This was before the train which brought all these guests arrived.

Afterwards,

They had no time to regret anything.

The hospitality of the little house was stretched to its furthest expansion.

The boys,

Bunking in tents,

Hastily erected on the lawn,

Gave up their beds to their fathers.

The girls,

Sleeping on extra cots in the nursery,

Gave up their beds to their mothers.

This did not take care of the entire company.

All the rooms in the annex were filled.

It was a two days equally busy for hosts and guests.

The children were determined to show their parents everything,

And the parents were equally determined to see everything.

One instant,

Mr.

And Mrs.

Doyle could be seen dragged off by Molly and Timmy to view Hell's Rock.

The next,

Mr.

And Mrs.

Clark,

Herded by the twins,

Were being pulled in the direction of the fairy ring.

Laura and Rosie displayed every detail of the house and barn to their parents.

Arthur took his father on two long explorations through the woods.

Betsy celebrated the arrival of Mr.

And Mrs.

Hale by her first attempt to run house in the magic mirror and brought back away.

She was caught halfway between them in triumph,

Her big eyes sparkling with the mischief which always filled them when she was successful in accomplishing her purpose.

Perhaps though,

Granny Flynn and Mrs.

Doar enjoyed more than anybody this break in their country life,

For a happy smile never left Granny's wrinkled face,

And Mrs.

Doar talked to the visitors all day long.

The company left on a late Sunday afternoon train with an invitation to come every future weekend,

And it looked as though life in the little house would go on as usual.

However,

Monday proved to be an equally exciting day as the two which had preceded it,

For when the children,

Big Six and Little Six,

Came back from their swim in the afternoon,

They saw,

Lying placidly on the lawn,

The figure of a strange man,

At sleep or awake they could not at first make out.

The figure decided that for them,

By leaping to its feet in what seemed one athletic jerk.

It's Billy Potter!

Shrieked Meda.

Billy!

Billy!

The others made chorus,

And they raced over to his side,

Threw themselves in one scrambled heap upon him.

Being of athletic build,

Billy Potter sustained that shock splendidly.

Billy Potter was one of the oldest friends the little shop had had.

He was a reporter on a Boston paper,

A great favourite with Mr.

Westerbrook,

Whom he had many times interviewed,

And a devoted friend of Meda's whom he called Petronella.

It was the first time the children had seen him since Meda left for Europe.

He was rather short,

Billy Potter,

Blue-eyed and golden-haired,

The eyes very blue and very observant,

His hair closely woven into thick curly thatch.

The children alternately hugged and thumped him.

Why haven't you been here before,

Billy?

Meda said.

I've been home two weeks now.

Only because I wasn't in Boston,

Billy declared.

I've been away on my vacation.

I had to take it early this year.

I couldn't have come over here at this moment but that I'm on a story.

When Billy Potter spoke of a story,

He meant the account which he wrote of events for his paper.

I'm on a kidnapping case,

He explained over their heads to Mr.

Westerbrook.

I may be here in Sichuit on and off for a few days,

And if invited,

I might become a guest of this noble establishment.

Oh,

Do come,

Oh do,

The children entreated.

All right,

Billy agreed.

I'm only waiting for an invitation,

Petronella.

Well,

Here it is,

Said Meda.

I accept,

Billy Potter laughed.

The children had to take him the rounds too.

He wondered at and exclaimed over the vegetable garden.

He exclaimed over and wondered at the flower garden.

He went in swimming in the magic mirror and showed them many new water tricks.

He inspected house rock with the little six.

He climbed to the tree room with the big six.

He declared that the tree room was where he must sleep,

And he did sleep there,

Although it took all the ingenuity that he possessed,

Plus the assistance of three boys,

To pull a cot up into it.

And while Billy Potter was still a guest,

As though,

As Meda said,

Wonders would never cease,

Dr.

Pierce suddenly appeared on scene.

Dr.

Pierce was the Westerbrook family physician.

He had known Meda all her life and called her Pink Wink.

He,

Too,

Had often visited the little shop,

Had been one of its advisors.

The children deserted Billy for a moment and threw themselves pal-mel on the old physician.

He stood braced for the shock which made every one of the tight gray curls on his head quiver and brought the twinkliest of twinkles to his happy old eyes.

Well,

Pink Wink exclaimed,

Is this the little girl who used to have cheeks as white as paper and eyes like a burnt hole in a blanket?

And are these those pale,

Washed-out,

Colorless,

Slim Jim-looking city children I used to know?

He hugged all the girls impartially,

Shook hands with the boys,

Then he,

Too,

Made the rounds of the place.

He played all his old games on them,

Drawing Betsy out to tell her exploits,

Listening with great enjoyment to Molly and Timmy,

And never ceasing to pretend that Dorothy and Mabel were one girl with the magic power of being in two places at once.

You must come more often,

Dr.

Pierce,

Meda said,

When at last they found themselves seated in the living room.

Oh,

I'm coming often enough,

Dr.

Pierce said.

You'll get good and tired of me before I have finished with you.

I'm coming at regular intervals to see that you don't drown yourselves or get poison ivy or sunstroke or lockjaw or any of those things that children are so fond of.

I shall make regular inspections.

In fact,

I'm going to make one this visit.

Now that I speak of it,

This strikes me as a good time.

Line up over there against the wall,

All of you,

And stick out your tongues.

Life fell into regular habits after a while.

For work,

Two hours every morning,

Except on Thursdays,

Took care of that.

On Thursdays,

However,

It was a matter of several hours.

For play,

It seemed as though the rest of the long golden days was all play.

After the household tasks came bathing,

Which had become a habit as regular as eating.

Bathing was almost the best fun they had,

Especially for Dickie.

Dickie soon rejected the water wings.

He was swimming now.

Not,

Of course,

As fast or as well as the others,

But swimming with that fresh joy which only the amateur knows.

The others were perfecting strokes of various kinds and practicing fancy diving of various sorts.

Arthur was,

Of course,

The best and strongest performer among them.

Meda would never be more than a fair swimmer,

Nor Harold,

But Rosie had soon outdistanced Laura,

Was beginning to work into Arthur's class.

However,

Laura was still,

Would probably always be,

The most graceful of them all.

The afternoons were spent in walking and playing tennis.

The evenings were given up to reading and games.

It looked at first as if their program would never vary.

The beautiful weather kept up,

And the beautiful country seemed full of diversion.

Occasionally came a dark day,

And then the boys devoted themselves to boxing in the barn.

Their shouts and laughter would reach even the little house.

On those occasions,

Mrs.

Dorr and Granny would gather the girls about them,

Set the older ones to mending,

Or to teach Molly and the Clark twins how to sew.

The Big Six kept running into the burls,

Although the appearance of any of the little house children on the path leading to the gypsy camp was a signal for Sylva and Timma to disappear instantly into the bushes.

The children frequently came across the young gypsies peddling their baskets in the village at the pleasant Wampum Arms,

Which was the Sichuit Hotel,

Or at the quiet farmhouses along the road.

In the long walks that they occasionally took into the woods,

Meda and her friends were likely to happen upon the outlaw pair.

If the burls saw the girls coming,

They quickly looked and walked the other way.

The two gypsies were not however much bothered with the tensions from the little house children,

For since they experienced at the magic mirror,

The latter never voluntarily glanced in their direction.

Once,

Rosie came home almost breathless with rage.

What do you think has just happened,

Meda?

She asked indignantly.

I was coming along the path when I saw a little opening in the bushes.

It looked so pretty that I thought I'd cut into it.

Just then,

I saw Sylva Burl running.

Oh,

Running like sixty,

Although she had a bottle of milk under her arm.

She heard me coming,

And suddenly she disappeared through the bushes.

But before she got away,

She made,

Oh,

The horridest face at me.

I was so mad.

She certainly is a strange girl,

Meda remarked in a perplexed tone.

I don't understand why she acts so.

We've never done anything to her.

Why should she treat us like this?

Arthur also reported that once,

Early in the morning,

He caught sight of Sylva Burl flying along the path ahead of him,

A bundle of,

He could not tell what,

Under her arms.

At the sound of his footsteps,

Arthur said it was exactly as though she were afraid of something he might do.

Though,

He added,

What she expected him to do,

He couldn't guess.

She flew to cover like a rabbit,

Actually vanished from his sight.

But the most disagreeable of all was Laura's experience.

Rosie pointed out to her the little opening among the trees which had so interested her.

The next day,

Passing it alone,

It occurred to Laura that she would find out where it led.

Like Rosie,

She walked through the underbrush,

But she got farther than Rosie did.

Suddenly,

She came against a trailing tree branch.

She started to climb over it.

Splash!

A pail of water hung on over a hanging branch fell on her,

Drenching her from head to foot.

It spoiled the gloss of her freshly ironed muslin frock,

Of course,

But it spoiled her temper more.

Maeda pondered all this evidence,

Utterly perplexed.

Why the girls should have taken such a dislike to them all,

She could not guess.

She did not speak of it to her father,

Because she was afraid he might complain to Aunt Save,

And Maeda did not want to make trouble for her friend.

But,

Under promise of secrecy,

She discussed the situation with Billy Potter.

For once,

That astute young gentleman had no explanation of a curious social phenomenon.

Billy Potter was coming to see them regularly now,

So was Mr.

Westerbrook.

They both had long talks with the children,

Collectively and separately.

One afternoon,

As they were sitting in the living room,

A curious revelation occurred.

Arthur was talking about the forest.

It was plain to be seen that it fascinated him beyond measure.

Often,

He would wake up in the early morning,

Slip down to the magic mirror,

Canoe himself across its dawn-swept,

Glossy surface to the other side,

Wander for an hour or more in the woods.

I guess I'll have to make you a forester out of you,

Mr.

Westerbrook said that afternoon.

I hope you don't stay up late at night.

His remark was not a question,

Only a comment.

Arthur flushed,

Remained silent.

Mr.

Westerbrook continued to look at him,

And now his look was a question.

Twice,

Arthur faltered finally.

When the moon was full,

I wanted to see if I could come up to some of your deer.

Well,

Did you manage,

Mr.

Westerbrook asked.

Only once,

Arthur answered,

If they get the smell of you,

Good night.

But I read in a book here in the library how to work around so the wind wouldn't carry it.

And one night,

I watched a group feeding and tossing their horns nearly five minutes.

It is a pretty sight,

Mr.

Westerbrook remarked.

I guess if I were a boy,

I couldn't resist that myself.

But I want you to promise me that you'll make these explorations only the three nights that the moon is full.

Arthur promised readily.

Oh,

Father,

Maeda begged,

Couldn't I do it too?

Her father shook his head.

No,

I guess you little girls must stay in your beds.

Yes,

You too,

Dickie,

As Dickie's lips opened automatically,

And you,

Harold.

Sometime,

Perhaps,

But not now.

Arthur is older and bigger.

He can take care of himself.

Now,

He concluded quickly,

As if determined to give Envy no time to develop,

Come out into the barn.

I hear there's some good boxing going on here.

Besides,

I want you to show me how your tennis is improving.

The little six continued to play near or in the house directly under Granny Flynn's or Mrs.

Dorr's watchful eye.

Occasionally,

They were permitted to wade in the lake,

But only when one of the grown-ups accompanied them.

For most of their time,

They were contented to frequent Home Rock.

Maeda had told the little six that there were toys awaiting them in the little house.

These included dolls of all sizes,

Doll furniture,

Little sets of dishes,

China and pewter.

Granny eked these out with the store of the saucerless cups and the cupless saucers,

The cracked bowls and plates,

Which linger on the outskirts of all respectable china closets.

The children were permitted to carry pails of water over to House Rock,

And there,

In its shade,

Miniature housekeeping began.

From every level,

Glassy-eyed dolls sitting placidly in little chairs or lying placidly in little beds surveyed the landscape.

Every morning,

The small mothers burst into an orgy of housecleaning,

Sweeping rock rooms,

Dusting doll furniture,

Washing doll dishes.

Every afternoon,

There broke out a fury of baking.

Hundreds of delicious mud pies were mixed,

Baked,

And then abandoned to that limbo to which all mud pies are sooner or later consigned.

When this play gave out,

The ingenious Mrs.

Dorr set them to cut out paper dolls and to making,

In scrapbooks hastily improvised from brown paper,

Innumerable rooms furnished with advertisement furniture cut from magazines.

This involved endless hours of cutting in which scissors disappeared as though by witchcraft and reappeared as though by magic,

Endless hours of pasting from which the small interior decorators returned splashed with flour paste from head to foot.

When in turn this game lost its savor,

The resourceful Mrs.

Dorr designed paper houses.

These architectural wonders,

Made from the endless piles of rejected paper boxes which the under-the-eaves closets of the little house contained.

The little six were as much delighted with the little house and its neighborhood as the big six.

But unlike the big six,

With the exception of Betsy,

They were content with nearby joys.

But Betsy had never recovered from her tendency to run away.

Once or twice,

She slipped off the house rock and started to make through the green forests in any direction that occurred to her.

But she was always caught.

Caught because after her first string,

Mrs.

Dorr put on the efficient little Molly the burden of keeping a watch on her.

And Molly watched Betsy,

Watched her with the same quiet,

Supervising care which she had always brought to her guardianship of the self-willed,

Stubborn Timmy.

After a while,

Astute Betsy came to realize that a guard was always near,

And for the time being ceased to stray.

She'll do it sometime,

Dickie prophesied again and again.

She always has,

And she always will.

The children recovered from their first attack of sunburn,

But they succumbed to another and another.

The second attack was not so painful,

And the third was scarcely noticed.

The red in their faces deepened to a brown which was like the protection of armor against the sun.

The blue-eyed and fair-haired ones,

Maeda and the two lathrops,

Freckled,

But Rosie turned a deeper rose bronze every day.

Dickie was fast changing to the color of a coffee bean,

And Arthur threatened to become pitch black.

As for the little six,

Maeda said they were just colonies of freckles,

And colonies in which lair had grown on lair.

I can't believe you're the same children I saw in the city a little over two weeks ago,

Buffalo Westerbrook remarked on the second visit.

First,

I was afraid you were working too hard.

When Maeda sent me the program of your work,

It looked to me as if you were undertaking altogether too much,

But you certainly thrive on it.

Well,

We play more than we work,

Rosie explained.

I never was so hungry in all my life,

Laura declared,

And I fall asleep the moment my head touches the pillow.

All right,

Buffalo Westerbrook laughed.

You're doing so well,

I'll leave it all in your hands.

He always surveyed both the flower garden and the vegetable garden when he came,

Surveyed them with much interest.

He always went into the barn and made an examination of the boys' quarters,

And so,

With work and play,

July wore itself away.

The Big Six,

As the older children were now called,

Were returning from their swim.

A shower,

Early in the morning,

Had delayed the bathing hour until afternoon,

And their pent-up spirits had exploded in prolonged skylarking in the water.

It was late afternoon when they came in sight of the little house.

They threw themselves under one of the twin elms on the front lawn,

A little warm from their walk home,

And as the Big Six languidly talked,

The Little Six came,

In single file,

Along the trail which led from House Rock.

Where's Betsy?

The sharp-eyed Rosie called.

I sent her back for her dolly,

Molly exclaimed gravely.

She forgot and left Hildegard on House Rock.

Hildegard was all dressed up in her best clothes,

And I didn't think she ought to stay out all night long.

That's right,

Molly,

Meda applauded the little girl.

Take just as good care of your dollies as you do of yourselves,

And then when you grow up,

They'll still be with you,

Like Lucy.

Molly,

Heading the file,

Turned suddenly and walked soberly over to Meda's side.

She knelt down on the grass beside her.

Meda,

She said,

When we first came down here,

You said if we were very,

Very good,

We could play with Lucy some rainy day.

Meda laughed up into the earnest little face.

The keynote of Molly's coloring was brown,

Just as Delia's was red,

Betsy's black,

And the Clark twins pink and white.

Molly's serious little face,

From which hung two tight,

Thick little braids,

Had,

Even in her wee childhood,

A touch of motherliness,

And indeed,

She rooted like a warm little mother bird over the entire rest of the group.

So I did,

Meda said.

But we've only had three rainy days,

Molly complained.

The big six laughed.

Molly could not pronounce T,

And her failure in this respect always entertained the big six.

They all reached out and knocked the elm trunk.

Knock wood,

They called to Molly,

And Molly,

Not at all understanding what it was all about,

Obediently tapped the tree with her dimpled knuckles.

And you didn't let us have Lucy those three days,

Molly said reproachfully.

But if you wait long enough,

Molly,

Meda excused herself,

You are sure to have a big three-day storm,

And I promise you shall have Lucy on all three days.

And the little hair frunk,

Molly questioned eagerly.

Yes,

Meda agreed,

The little hair frunk.

Cross your throat,

Molly demanded.

Yes,

Cross my throat,

Meda agreed and crossed it.

Oh,

Goody!

Molly skipped away on the wings of ecstasy.

Did Betsy come back?

Dickey asked carelessly.

I didn't notice,

Meda answered absently.

I wasn't looking.

But after a while the supper bell rang.

The children filed into the dining room and took their places.

One chair was vacant.

Where's Betsy?

Mrs.

Dorr immediately asked.

Everybody looked puzzled,

And nobody answered.

I told her to go and get her dolly,

Molly asserted.

Nobody paid any attention to her.

She's probably upstairs in the nursery,

Mrs.

Dorr decided.

Once or twice she's fallen asleep up there.

She's got so tired playing.

She left the room and the children heard her running over the stairs.

In a moment or two they heard her footsteps coming back at a swifter pace.

She isn't there,

Mrs.

Dorr said in a quiet voice,

Nor in any one of the upstairs rooms.

Now,

Before you eat,

Children,

Scatter about the place and see if you can find her.

She's run away,

Dickey asserted.

I told you she would.

I told her to go back for her dolly,

Molly reiterated gravely.

As Mrs.

Dorr had ordered,

The children scattered.

They searched the house,

The annex,

The barn,

The treehouse,

The two gardens and the adjacent trails.

No Betsy.

By this time,

Floribel and Zeke,

Looking very serious,

Had joined in the search.

Granny Flynn,

Obviously frightened,

Was wringing her hands.

Mrs.

Dorr's face had turned serious too,

But she was quite mistress of herself.

We'll wait a few minutes,

She ordered slowly,

And then,

If we haven't found her,

We'll telephone the big house.

In the meantime,

Granny,

You see that the children have their supper.

The rest of you,

She addressed the big six,

Must go without your supper for a while.

I want your help.

The big six wanted to help,

Of course.

For a moment or two,

They wandered about aimlessly,

A haphazard group,

With Mrs.

Dorr and Floribel and Zeke trying to direct all at once.

Suddenly,

Arthur Duncan took command of the situation.

He ran into the house and emerged with his arms full of things.

The cowbell,

With which Floribel called the children to meals,

And four electric flashlights.

Laura,

He commanded,

Handing her the cowbell.

I want you to stand here at the door and ring this bell at regular intervals.

I'm going to divide the rest of you into pairs and send you off in different directions.

We're losing time all bunched together like this.

Now Mrs.

Dorr,

If you and Dickie will go to the magic mirror and hunt the woods there.

And Floribel,

You and Rosie take the house rock direction.

Zeke,

You and Harold search in front across the road.

Maida and I will beat the woods back of the house.

Remember,

Don't any one of you go out of hearing of the bell.

And if any of you find Betsy,

Come back and ring the bell hard without stopping.

Sweet dreams,

My friend.

Chapter 11 VISITORS After the second Thursday,

Which was Floribel's and Zeke's day out,

Came the second Saturday of the children's day in the little house.

And on that Saturday,

All the parents came to situate from Charleston,

To see how their children were getting on.

Mr.

And Mrs.

Brine,

Mr.

And Mrs.

Lathrop,

Mr.

And Mrs.

Clark,

Mr.

And Mrs.

Doyle,

Mr.

And Mrs.

Hale.

Arthur had no mother,

But Mr.

Duncan appeared with the rest.

Mr.

Westerbrook appeared at odd moments and helped entertain the guests.

The children of these parents were so excited that Maida and Dickie lamented loudly that they had no relatives to show the little house.

This was before the train which brought all these guests arrived.

Afterwards,

They had no time to regret anything.

The hospitality of the little house was stretched to its furthest expansion.

The boys,

Bunking in tents,

Hastily erected on the lawn,

Gave up their beds to their fathers.

The girls,

Sleeping on extra cots in the nursery,

Gave up their beds to their mothers.

This did not take care of the entire company.

All the rooms in the annex were filled.

It was a two days,

Equally busy for hosts and guests.

The children were determined to show their parents everything,

And the parents were equally determined to see everything.

One instant,

Mr.

And Mrs.

Doyle could be seen dragged off by Molly and Timmy to view House Rock.

The next,

Mr.

And Mrs.

Clark,

Herded by the twins,

Were being pulled in the direction of the fairy ring.

Laura and Rosie displayed every detail of the house and barn to their parents.

Arthur took his father on two long explorations through the woods.

Betsy celebrated the arrival of Mr.

And Mrs.

Hale by her first attempt to run House in the magic mirror and brought back away.

She was caught halfway between them in triumph,

Her big eyes sparkling with the mischief which always filled them when she was successful in accomplishing her purpose.

Perhaps,

Though,

Granny Flynn and Mrs.

Dorr enjoyed more than anybody this break in their country life,

For a happy smile never left Granny's wrinkled face,

And Mrs.

Dorr talked to the visitors all day long.

The company left on a late Sunday afternoon train with an invitation to come every future weekend,

And it looked as though life in the little house would go on as usual.

However,

Monday proved to be an equally exciting day as the two which had preceded it,

For when the children,

Big Six and Little Six,

Came back from their swim in the afternoon,

They saw,

Lying placidly on the lawn,

The figure of a strange man,

At sleep or awake they could not at first make out.

The figure decided that for them by leaping to its feet in what seemed one athletic jerk.

It's Billy Potter!

Shrieked Meda.

Billy!

Billy!

The others made chorus,

And they raced over to his side,

Threw themselves in one scrambled heap upon him.

Being of athletic build,

Billy Potter sustained that shock splendidly.

Billy Potter was one of the oldest friends the little shop had had.

He was a reporter on a Boston paper,

A great favorite with Mr.

Westerbrook,

Whom he had many times interviewed,

And a devoted friend of Meda's whom he called Petronella.

It was the first time the children had seen him since Meda left for Europe.

He was rather short,

Billy Potter,

Blue-eyed and golden-haired,

The eyes very blue and very observant,

His hair closely woven into thick curly thatch.

The children alternately hugged and thumped him.

Why haven't you been here before,

Billy?

Meda said.

I've been home two weeks now.

Only because I wasn't in Boston,

Billy declared.

I've been away on my vacation.

I had to take it early this year.

I couldn't have come over here at this moment but that I'm on a story.

When Billy Potter spoke of a story,

He meant the account which he wrote of events for his paper.

I'm on a kidnapping case,

He explained over their heads to Mr.

Westerbrook.

I may be here in Sichuit on and off for a few days,

And if invited,

I might become a guest of this noble establishment.

Oh,

Do come,

Oh do,

The children entreated.

All right,

Billy agreed.

I'm only waiting for an invitation,

Petronella.

Well,

Here it is,

Said Meda.

I accept,

Billy Potter laughed.

The children had to take him the rounds too.

He wondered at and exclaimed over the vegetable garden.

He exclaimed over and wondered at the flower garden.

He went in swimming in the magic mirror and showed them many new water tricks.

He inspected house rock with the little six.

He climbed to the tree room with the big six.

He declared that the tree room was where he must sleep.

And he did sleep there,

Although it took all the ingenuity that he possessed,

Plus the assistance of three boys,

To pull a cot up into it.

And while Billy Potter was still a guest,

As though,

As Meda said,

Wonders would never cease,

Dr.

Pierce suddenly appeared on scene.

Dr.

Pierce was the Westerbrook family physician.

He had known Meda all her life and called her Pink Wink.

He too had often visited the little shop,

Had been one of its advisors.

The children deserted Billy for a moment and threw themselves pal-mel on the old physician.

He stood braced for the shock which made every one of the tight gray curls on his head quiver and brought the twinkliest of twinkles to his happy old eyes.

Well,

Pink Wink exclaimed,

Is this the little girl who used to have cheeks as white as paper and eyes like a burnt hole in a blanket?

And are these those pale,

Washed-out,

Colorless,

Slim Jim-looking city children I used to know?

He hugged all the girls impartially,

Shook hands with the boys,

Then he too made the rounds of the place.

He played all his old games on them,

Drawing Betsy out to tell her exploits,

Listening with great enjoyment to Molly and Timmy,

And never ceasing to pretend that Dorothy and Mabel were one girl with the magic power of being in two places at once.

You must come more often,

Dr.

Pierce,

Meda said,

When at last they found themselves seated in the living room.

Oh,

I'm coming often enough,

Dr.

Pierce said.

You'll get good and tired of me before I have finished with you.

I'm coming at regular intervals to see that you don't drown yourselves or get poison ivy or sunstroke or lockjaw or any of those things that children are so fond of.

I shall make regular inspections.

In fact,

I'm going to make one this visit.

Now that I speak of it,

This strikes me as a good time.

Line up over there against the wall,

All of you,

And stick out your tongues.

Life fell into regular habits after a while.

For work,

Two hours every morning,

Except on Thursdays,

Took care of that.

On Thursdays,

However,

It was a matter of several hours.

For play,

It seemed as though the rest of the long golden days was all play.

After the household tasks came bathing,

Which had become a habit as regular as eating.

Bathing was almost the best fun they had,

Especially for Dickie.

Dickie soon rejected the water wings.

He was swimming now.

Not,

Of course,

As fast or as well as the others,

But swimming with that fresh joy which only the amateur knows.

The others were perfecting strokes of various kinds and practicing fancy diving of various sorts.

Arthur was,

Of course,

The best and strongest performer among them.

Meda would never be more than a fair swimmer,

Nor Harold,

But Rosie had soon outdistanced Laura,

Was beginning to work into Arthur's class.

However,

Laura was still,

Would probably always be,

The most graceful of them all.

The afternoons were spent in walking and playing tennis.

The evenings were given up to reading and games.

It looked at first as if their program would never vary.

The beautiful weather kept up,

And the beautiful country seemed full of diversion.

Occasionally came a dark day,

And then the boys devoted themselves to boxing in the barn.

Their shouts and laughter would reach even the little house.

On those occasions,

Mrs.

Dorr and Granny would gather the girls about them,

Set the older ones to mending,

Or to teach Molly and the Clark twins how to sew.

The Big Six kept running into the burls,

Although the appearance of any of the little house children on the path leading to the gypsy camp was a signal for Sylva and Timma to disappear instantly into the bushes.

The children frequently came across the young gypsies,

Peddling their baskets in the village,

At the pleasant Wampum Arms,

Which was the situated hotel,

Or at the quiet farmhouses along the road.

In the long walks that they occasionally took into the woods,

Meda and her friends were likely to happen upon the outlaw pair.

If the burls saw the girls coming,

They quickly looked and walked the other way.

The two gypsies were not however much bothered with the tensions from the little house children,

For since the experience at the magic mirror,

The latter never voluntarily glanced in their direction.

Once,

Rosie came home almost breathless with rage.

What do you think has just happened,

Meda?

She asked indignantly.

I was coming along the path when I saw a little opening in the bushes.

It looked so pretty that I thought I'd cut into it.

Just then,

I saw Sylva Burl running.

Oh,

Running like sixty,

Although she had a bottle of milk under her arm.

She heard me coming,

And suddenly she disappeared through the bushes.

But before she got away,

She made,

Oh,

The horridest face at me.

I was so mad.

She certainly is a strange girl,

Meda remarked in a perplexed tone.

I don't understand why she acts so.

We've never done anything to her.

Why should she treat us like this?

Arthur also reported that once,

Early in the morning,

He caught sight of Sylva Burl flying along the path ahead of him,

A bundle of he could not tell what under her arms.

At the sound of his footsteps,

Arthur said it was exactly as though she were afraid of something he might do.

Though,

He added,

What she expected him to do,

He couldn't guess.

She flew to cover like a rabbit,

Actually vanished from his sight.

But the most disagreeable of all was Laura's experience.

Rosie pointed out to her the little opening among the trees which had so interested her.

The next day,

Passing it alone,

It occurred to Laura that she would find out where it led.

Like Rosie,

She walked through the underbrush,

But she got farther than Rosie did.

Suddenly,

She came against a trailing tree branch.

She started to climb over it.

Splash!

A pail of water hung on over a hanging branch fell on her,

Drenching her from head to foot.

It spoiled the gloss of her freshly ironed muslin frock,

Of course,

But it spoiled her temper more.

Maeda pondered all this evidence,

Utterly perplexed.

Why the girls should have taken such a dislike to them all,

She could not guess.

She did not speak of it to her father,

Because she was afraid he might complain to Aunt Save,

And Maeda did not want to make trouble for her friend.

But,

Under promise of secrecy,

She discussed the situation with Billy Potter.

For once,

That astute young gentleman had no explanation of a curious social phenomenon.

Billy Potter was coming to see them regularly now,

So was Mr.

Westerbrook.

They both had long talks with the children,

Collectively and separately.

One afternoon,

As they were sitting in the living room,

A curious revelation occurred.

Arthur was talking about the forest.

It was plain to be seen that it fascinated him beyond measure.

Often,

He would wake up in the early morning,

Slip down to the magic mirror,

Canoe himself across its dawn-swept,

Glossy surface to the other side,

Wander for an hour or more in the woods.

I guess I'll have to make you a forester out of you,

Mr.

Westerbrook said that afternoon.

I hope you don't stay up late at night.

His remark was not a question,

Only a comment.

Arthur flushed,

Remained silent.

Mr.

Westerbrook continued to look at him,

And now his look was a question.

Twice,

Arthur faltered finally.

When the moon was full,

I wanted to see if I could come up to some of your deer.

Well,

Did you manage,

Mr.

Westerbrook asked.

Only once,

Arthur answered,

If they get the smell of you,

Good night.

But I read in a book here in the library how to work around so the wind wouldn't carry it.

And one night,

I watched a group feeding and tossing their horns nearly five minutes.

It is a pretty sight,

Mr.

Westerbrook remarked.

I guess if I were a boy,

I couldn't resist that myself.

But I want you to promise me that you'll make these explorations only the three nights that the moon is full.

Arthur promised readily.

Oh,

Father,

Maeda begged,

Couldn't I do it too?

Her father shook his head.

No,

I guess you little girls must stay in your beds.

Yes,

You too,

Dickie,

As Dickie's lips opened automatically,

And you,

Harold.

Sometime,

Perhaps,

But not now.

Arthur is older and bigger.

He can take care of himself.

Now,

He concluded quickly,

As if determined to give Envy no time to develop,

Come out into the barn.

I hear there's some good boxing going on here.

Besides,

I want you to show me how your tennis is improving.

The little six continued to play near or in the house directly under Granny Flynn's or Mrs.

Dorr's watchful eye.

Occasionally,

They were permitted to wade in the lake,

But only when one of the grown-ups accompanied them.

For most of their time,

They were contented to frequent Home Rock.

Maeda had told the little six that there were toys awaiting them in the little house.

These included dolls of all sizes,

Doll furniture,

Little sets of dishes,

China and pewter.

Granny eked these out with the store of the saucerless cups and the cupless saucers,

The cracked bowls and plates,

Which linger on the outskirts of all respectable china closets.

The children were permitted to carry pails of water over to House Rock,

And there,

In its shade,

Miniature housekeeping began.

From every level,

Glassy-eyed dolls sitting placidly in little chairs or lying placidly in little beds surveyed the landscape.

Every morning,

The small mothers burst into an orgy of housecleaning,

Sweeping rock rooms,

Dusting doll furniture,

Washing doll dishes.

Every afternoon,

There broke out a fury of baking.

Hundreds of delicious mud pies were mixed,

Baked,

And then abandoned to that limbo to which all mud pies are sooner or later consigned.

When this play gave out,

The ingenious Mrs.

Dorr set them to cut out paper dolls and to making,

In scrapbooks hastily improvised from brown paper,

Innumerable rooms furnished with advertisement furniture cut from magazines.

This involved endless hours of cutting in which scissors disappeared as though by witchcraft and reappeared as though by magic,

Endless hours of pasting from which the small interior decorators returned splashed with flour paste from head to foot.

When in turn this game lost its savor,

The resourceful Mrs.

Dorr designed paper houses.

These architectural wonders,

Made from the endless piles of rejected paper boxes which the under-the-eaves closets of the little house contained.

The little six were as much delighted with the little house and its neighborhood as the big six.

But unlike the big six,

With the exception of Betsy,

They were content with nearby joys.

But Betsy had never recovered from her tendency to run away.

Once or twice,

She slipped off the house rock and started to make through the green forests in any direction that occurred to her.

But she was always caught.

Caught because after her first string,

Mrs.

Dorr put on the efficient little Molly the burden of keeping a watch on her.

And Molly watched Betsy,

Watched her with the same quiet,

Supervising care which she had always brought to her guardianship of the self-willed,

Stubborn Timmy.

After a while,

Astute Betsy came to realize that a guard was always near,

And for the time being ceased to stray.

She'll do it sometime,

Dickie prophesied again and again.

She always has,

And she always will.

The children recovered from their first attack of sunburn,

But they succumbed to another and another.

The second attack was not so painful,

And the third was scarcely noticed.

The red in their faces deepened to a brown which was like the protection of armor against the sun.

The blue-eyed and fair-haired ones,

Maeda and the two lathrops,

Freckled,

But Rosie turned a deeper rose bronze every day.

Dickie was fast changing to the color of a coffee bean,

And Arthur threatened to become pitch black.

As for the little six,

Maeda said they were just colonies of freckles,

And colonies in which lair had grown on lair.

I can't believe you're the same children I saw in the city a little over two weeks ago,

Buffalo Westerbrook remarked on the second visit.

First,

I was afraid you were working too hard.

When Maeda sent me the program of your work,

It looked to me as if you were undertaking altogether too much,

But you certainly thrive on it.

Well,

We play more than we work,

Rosie explained.

I never was so hungry in all my life,

Laura declared,

And I fall asleep the moment my head touches the pillow.

All right,

Buffalo Westerbrook laughed.

You're doing so well,

I'll leave it all in your hands.

He always surveyed both the flower garden and the vegetable garden when he came,

Surveyed them with much interest.

He always went into the barn and made an examination of the boys' quarters,

And so,

With work and play,

July wore itself away.

The Big Six,

As the older children were now called,

Were returning from their swim.

A shower,

Early in the morning,

Had delayed the bathing hour until afternoon,

And their pent-up spirits had exploded in prolonged skylarking in the water.

It was late afternoon when they came in sight of the little house.

They threw themselves under one of the twin elms on the front lawn,

A little warm from their walk home,

And as the Big Six languidly talked,

The Little Six came,

In single file,

Along the trail which led from House Rock.

Where's Betsy?

The sharp-eyed Rosie called.

I sent her back for her dolly,

Molly exclaimed gravely.

She forgot and left Hildegard on House Rock.

Hildegard was all dressed up in her best clothes,

And I didn't think she ought to stay out all night long.

That's right,

Molly,

Meda applauded the little girl.

Take just as good care of your dollies as you do of yourselves,

And then when you grow up,

They'll still be with you,

Like Lucy.

Molly,

Heading the file,

Turned suddenly and walked soberly over to Meda's side.

She knelt down on the grass beside her.

Meda,

She said,

When we first came down here,

You said if we were very,

Very good,

We could play with Lucy some rainy day.

Meda laughed up into the earnest little face.

The keynote of Molly's coloring was brown,

Just as Delia's was red,

Betsy's black,

And the Clark twins pink and white.

Molly's serious little face,

From which hung two tight,

Thick little braids,

Had,

Even in her wee childhood,

A touch of motherliness,

And indeed,

She rooted like a warm little mother bird over the entire rest of the group.

So I did,

Meda said.

But we've only had three rainy days,

Molly complained.

The big six laughed.

Molly could not pronounce T,

And her failure in this respect always entertained the big six.

They all reached out and knocked the elm trunk.

Knock wood,

They called to Molly,

And Molly,

Not at all understanding what it was all about,

Obediently tapped the tree with her dimpled knuckles.

And you didn't let us have Lucy those three days,

Molly said reproachfully.

But if you wait long enough,

Molly,

Meda excused herself,

You are sure to have a big three-day storm,

And I promise you shall have Lucy on all three days.

And the little hair frunk,

Molly questioned eagerly.

Yes,

Meda agreed,

The little hair frunk.

Cross your throat,

Molly demanded.

Yes,

Cross my throat,

Meda agreed and crossed it.

Oh,

Goody,

Molly skipped away on the wings of ecstasy.

Did Betsy come back,

Dickie asked carelessly.

I didn't notice,

Meda answered absently.

I wasn't looking.

But after a while,

The supper bell rang.

The children filed into the dining room and took their places.

One chair was vacant.

Where's Betsy?

Mrs.

Dorr immediately asked.

Everybody looked puzzled,

And nobody answered.

I told her to go and get her dolly,

Molly asserted.

Nobody paid any attention to her.

She's probably upstairs in the nursery,

Mrs.

Dorr decided.

Once or twice,

She's fallen asleep up there.

She's got so tired playing.

She left the room,

And the children heard her running over the stairs.

In a moment or two,

They heard her footsteps coming back at a swifter pace.

She isn't there,

Mrs.

Dorr said in a quiet voice,

Nor in any one of the upstairs rooms.

Now,

Before you eat,

Children,

Scatter about the place and see if you can find her.

She's run away,

Dickie asserted.

I told you she would.

I told her to go back for her dolly,

Molly reiterated gravely.

As Mrs.

Dorr had ordered,

The children scattered.

They searched the house,

The annex,

The barn,

The treehouse,

The two gardens,

And the adjacent trails.

No Betsy.

By this time,

Floribel and Zeke,

Looking very serious,

Had joined in the search.

Granny Flynn,

Obviously frightened,

Was wringing her hands.

Mrs.

Dorr's face had turned serious too,

But she was quite mistress of herself.

We'll wait a few minutes,

She ordered slowly,

And then,

If we haven't found her,

We'll telephone the big house.

In the meantime,

Granny,

You see that the children have their supper.

The rest of you,

She addressed the big six,

Must go without your supper for a while.

I want your help.

The big six wanted to help,

Of course.

For a moment or two,

They wandered about aimlessly,

A haphazard group,

With Mrs.

Dorr and Floribel and Zeke trying to direct all at once.

Suddenly,

Arthur Duncan took command of the situation.

He ran into the house and emerged with his arms full of things.

The cowbell,

With which Floribel called the children to meals,

And four electric flashlights.

Laura,

He commanded,

Handing her the cowbell.

I want you to stand here at the door and ring this bell at regular intervals.

I'm going to divide the rest of you into pairs and send you off in different directions.

We're losing time all bunched together like this.

Now Mrs.

Dorr,

If you and Dickie will go to the magic mirror and hunt the woods there.

And Floribel,

You and Rosie take the house rock direction.

Zeke,

You and Harold search in front across the road.

Maida and I will beat the woods back of the house.

Remember,

Don't any one of you go out of hearing of the bell.

And if any of you find Betsy,

Come back and ring the bell hard without stopping.

In the meantime,

They searched every bit of ground thoroughly.

At the foot of tree trunks,

Besides rocks,

Under bushes.

Arthur thrust the rays of his electric flashlight.

At intervals he called to Maida and at intervals Maida called to him.

It grew darker and darker.

There,

There's the moon,

Arthur said in a relieved tone.

It's going to help a good deal having a full moon.

Following his pointing finger,

Maida caught a faint red glow through the trees.

They searched a little longer.

Arthur,

I can barely hear the bell,

Maida exclaimed suddenly.

Arthur sighed.

I was just thinking that,

He said.

I guess we'll have to go back to the little house and telephone the big house.

They turned and walked in the direction of the cowbell.

They were too preoccupied with the sense of their unhappiness to talk.

Once only,

Maida said.

She's one of the darlingest little girls I ever knew.

If anything happened to Betsy,

And then how could we tell her mother?

When they came out onto the lawn of the little house,

They found Floribel and Rosie sitting there.

A minute later,

Zeke and Harold appeared from one direction,

And after an interval,

Mrs.

Dorr and Dickie from another.

They all had the same anxious,

Slightly terrified look.

I'll call up the big house now,

Mrs.

Dorr said quietly.

We can't handle this alone any longer.

She started towards the door,

And automatically the others followed in a silent downcast file.

And then,

Suddenly,

Rosie screamed.

There's Betsy now!

The whole group turned,

Stood petrified.

Maida followed Rosie's scream with,

And what is she carrying in her arms?

And then the whole group broke and ran in the direction of House Rock.

Betsy was coming down the trail toward the little house.

The moon was fairly high now,

And it shone full on the erect little figure and the excited,

Sparkling little face.

Her dress was soiled and torn,

Her hair ribbon had gone,

And her curls hung helter-skelter about her rosy cheeks.

Her great eyes shone like baby moons as her gaze fell on the group running towards her.

A trusting smile parted her red lips,

Showed all her little white mice teeth.

She's carrying a fawn,

Arthur exclaimed as he neared her.

Why,

It can't be a day old!

Betsy was carrying a fawn.

As they surrounded her,

She handed it trustfully over into Arthur's extended hands.

I find it myself,

She announced proudly.

I ran and I ran and I ran,

And it ran and it ran and it ran,

But I ran faster than it ran,

And pretty soon it was all tired out and I catched it.

This was all of her adventure that they ever got out of Betsy.

Conjecture later filled in these meager outlines.

That Betsy had been coming home with her doll,

Hildegard,

When this stray from the Westerbrook Preserves crossed her path.

Dropping Hildegard,

They found her a few minutes later not far from House Rock.

She chased the poor little creature over trails,

Through bushes,

Across rocks,

Until she ran him down.

Then picking him up in her arms,

She found the path by some lucky accident and came home.

Mother of God,

Mrs.

Dorst said,

Hugging Betsy again and again.

The child looked like the young St.

John coming down the path.

Floribel lifted Betsy in her arms and carried her the rest of the way,

A very excited little girl proudly telling her story again and again.

I ran and I ran and I ran,

She kept repeating,

And he runned and he runned and he runned.

The other children tried to help in the process by holding onto dangling legs and arms,

By patting the little thickly curly head,

And by reaching up to kiss the round rosy cheeks.

All except Arthur who carried the exhausted little fawn.

Once home,

Betsy was the center of attention for only a moment.

She was given her supper,

A warm soothing bath,

And put immediately to bed.

Then the fawn took the center of the stage.

The capable Arthur found a big basket which he filled with soft cloths,

Placed the exhausted little creature in it.

He was exhausted,

For when Arthur first put him on the floor,

His legs gave out under him.

He spraddled all four legs flat on the rug in front of the fireplace,

As Rosie said,

Exactly like a wet mosquito.

Then Arthur heated some milk,

Dipped a corner of a handkerchief into it,

Gave it to the fawn to suck.

It was a slow process,

For the fawn did not seem to understand this strange method of being fed.

At length,

Arthur thought of a better scheme.

Procuring an eyedropper from the medicine chest,

He poured the warm fluid drop by drop into the little creature's mouth.

All the time,

The children knelt around the basket in a circle.

How sweet it is,

Rosie,

Who adored animals,

Kept saying.

Look at its big eyes and its beautiful head.

I'd love to take him in my arms,

Mena exclaimed again and again,

Only I know I would frighten it to death.

See how it trembles if we get too near?

The little children,

Who had been allowed one glimpse of the deer,

Went upstairs chattering like little magpies.

Betsy,

Tired with her long hunting,

Had fallen asleep the instant she struck the pillow,

But the rest were in such a state of high excitement that it was almost an hour before the last of them calmed down.

It was not easy that night to drive the big six to bed.

When the denizens of the little house waked the next morning,

Their tiny forest guest was lying in his basket,

Bright-eyed as usual.

For an hour after his breakfast and theirs,

They hovered about him,

Making all kinds of plans in regards to his future.

But these dreams were rudely shattered when Mrs.

Dorr informed them that she had told Mr.

Westerbrook,

Over the phone,

The whole episode,

And that he was sending a man that day to bring the deer back to the big house.

Oh,

I don't see why we have to give him up,

Meta declared in heartbroken accents.

What fun it would be to have a deer all our own and watch him grow.

Just think when his horns came.

Oh,

Meta,

Rosie begged,

Do call your father up and tease him to let us keep him.

Just think of having a baby fawn running about the house.

Added their entreaties to Rosie's.

I don't think it would be any use,

Meta,

Mrs.

Dorr quietly interrupted.

Your father said if by chance any stranger brought a dog here,

He would kill the little fawn the moment he caught him.

And then,

When the fawn himself grew bigger and developed horns,

He might even be dangerous.

Besides,

Betsy,

As Bestie burst into loud wails,

Mr.

Westerbrook said he would send you something nice to take the fawn's place.

But the fawn's alive,

Rosie said in a grieved tone,

And nothing can be as nice as a live creature.

He said this would be alive too,

Mrs.

Dorr comforted her.

Oh,

What?

Rosie asked.

Mrs.

Dorr's eyes danced.

It's a surprise,

I'm not to tell it.

Only half appeased,

The children hung around the house,

Waiting to see what the alive thing was.

In the middle of the morning,

A runabout drew up in front of the little house,

And one of Mr.

Westerbrook's men alighted from it.

He was wearing a long loose coat,

But he had nothing in his arms.

He took the little fawn,

Basket and all,

And placed it in the runabout.

The children tagged his every movement,

Followed with their eyes his every motion.

After the fawn was safely installed on the seat beside him,

He turned on the engine.

Betsy burst into tears.

Oh,

That's the little girl,

The man exclaimed,

As though suddenly remembering something.

Who found the fawn,

Isn't it?

Through her sobs,

Betsy began.

I ran and I ran and I.

.

.

Well then,

The man said,

I guess I've got something for you.

He reached into one of the pockets of his big coat and brought out a tiny nondescript bundle of loose white fur,

Of helpless waving black paws,

Big bulging winking black eyes,

A curly queue of the tail,

An impertinent sniffing nose,

A baby bulldog.

He handed it to Betsy.

Betsy's tears dried in a flash.

She hugged the puppy close to her warm neck,

Ran with him to the house.

The children raced after her,

And the runabout,

Utterly forgotten,

Disappeared down the road.

Let's call it fawn,

Rosie said.

And fawn it was.

Fawn adopted the little house as her home at once.

She was a very affectionate person,

And she soon grew to love devotedly every member of the household.

They all loved her devotedly in return,

But none loved her more than Betsy,

And Betsy's dog she always remained.

Sweet dreams,

My friend.

Sleep well.