TIM AND TIP;
OR, THE ADVENTURES OF A BOY AND A DOG.
BY JAMES OTIS,
AUTHOR OF "TOBY TYLER," ETC.
Chapter VII.
TIP'S HURRIED LANDING.
Tim went below, where Bobby was waiting for him, and the sight of his tear-filled eyes, and face red with the marks of the whipping, told the young gentleman from Minchin's Island that there were very many positions in the world more pleasant than that of Captain's boy on board the Pride of the Wave.
"What is the matter, Tim?" he asked, in a half-whisper.
"Nothin'," was the sobbing reply; and then the boy ran to the only living thing he knew that would sympathize with him in his grief.
Bobby stood back in astonishment as he saw Tim lie down by the side of that wonderful hunting dog, and, pouring out his grief in indistinct words, sob and cry in deepest distress.
"What is the matter, Tim? Don't cry so, but tell me what ails you."
It was some time before Tim would speak; but when once he did open his heart to his newly made friend, he told the entire story from the time he ran away from Captain Babbige's house up to this last whipping he had received. When he had concluded, he said, in the most sorrowful tone, "I jest wish I was dead, Bobby; for there don't seem to be anybody in all this great big world who wants to have me 'round, 'less it is to lick me when they ain't got nothin' else to do."
"I wouldn't stand it, Tim: that's what I wouldn't do," said Bobby, indignantly. "I'd jest leave this old boat the very first time she stops."
But Tim had more wisdom now than he had the day he ran away from Captain Babbige, and he said, mournfully: "Where could I go if I did run away again? Nobody wants me an' Tip, an' we've got to have somethin' to eat."
This way of putting the matter rather confused Bobby; he had never known what it was to be without a home, and Tim's lonely position in the world opened his eyes to a new phase of life.
"I'll tell you what you can do; you can come to my house, an' stay jest as long as you want to."
Tim shook his head; he remembered the invitation given by Sam Simpson, and how it had been seconded by his parents, and he did not care for more of the same experience.
"But you can't stay here, an' let Captain Pratt knock you 'round."
Tim assented to this; but still he did not see how he could prevent it, unless he was willing to risk suffering in another form.
"I s'pose I'll have to go up stairs an' show the Captain that I ain't in bed," he said, as a shudder of seasickness came over him again. "It must be as much as ten minutes since I was there."
"I wouldn't go," said Bobby, stoutly; "I wouldn't let him think I was afraid of him."
"But I am afraid of him, an' so would you be if he was to beat you once the way he has me;" and then he started for the deck again.
This time he did not attempt to enter the wheel-house, but stood by the rail outside, where the Captain could see him, and leaned over the side until it seemed to him that everything he had eaten for the past month was thrown to the fishes.
It was impossible for him to have waited on the Captain at the table that day, even if he had been called upon so to do; but Mr. Rankin had told him that he need not come into the cabin until he had recovered, and he was truly thankful for that permission to remain away.
The steamer had sailed at eleven o'clock in the fore-noon, and by two o'clock Tim was so sick that the very worst punishment Captain Pratt could have devised would not have troubled him in the least.
The vessel tossed and plunged as if she were bent on going to the bottom of the sea at the first opportunity, and Tim, in his berth, with the faithful Bobby at his side trying to cheer and comfort him, felt that he would not raise his hand to help himself even though he knew the Pride of the Wave was foundering.
During the remainder of that day, and all the night, Tim lay in his berth wondering why it was he did not die, since he was so sick, and expecting each moment that the steamer would go to the bottom. He almost forgot Tip, save once or twice when he asked Bobby to see whether the dog was feeling as badly as he was, and when he was told that Tip was apparently enjoying very good health, he felt a sense of injury because his pet did not share his sickness with him.
When Tim awakened on the following morning—for he did get some sleep that night—the steamer was yet pitching around wildly as though she was mad, but he had recovered from his sickness, and felt weak and hungry. He looked as pale as though he had been confined to his bed for a week, and he imagined that he was so thin the sun would shine right through him; but in this he was mistaken.
Of course his first visit was to Tip, and after he had petted him to his heart's content, given him a hearty breakfast—thanks to old Mose's generosity—he went below to report to Mr. Rankin for duty.
There was plenty of work to be done, and now that he had paid his "tribute to the sea," the steward showed that while he could be kind when there was reason for it, he also believed in making boys useful.
During the morning he had not once caught a glimpse of his friend Bobby Tucker, nor, indeed, had he had time to look for him. He had asked old Mose where Minchin's Island was, and when the steamer would arrive there; but although Mose could give him very little geographical information, he knew certainly that the Pride of the Wave was due at the island about noon.
Tim was impatient to get through with his work, so that he could talk with Bobby a few moments, and when Mr. Rankin told him that he was at liberty until dinner-time, he went at once to Tip's narrow quarters, believing he would find the boy from Minchin's Island there.
Nor was he mistaken, for there was Bobby examining the dog very carefully, measuring his legs and the stump of his tail, in order that he might give accurate information regarding him to his friends at home.
Although the boys were very glad to see each other, the meeting was not a particularly affectionate one.
"Hello, Bob," cried Tim; and Bobby answered,
"Hello, Tim."
"What are you doin' to Tip?"
"I was only kinder lookin' him over, to see if he was all right for the bears when he an' you come down to see me."
"Oh, he can take care of the bears fast enough, but I'm afraid he won't get down to your house."
"Oh yes, he will," was the confident reply. "The very next time the Pride comes to the island I'm goin' to get father to make the Captain let you come ashore, an' father's one of the selectmen, so I guess Captain Pratt can't help hisself."
The idea that Bobby's father was one of the town officials appeared to put the matter in a different light, and Tim began to have great hopes that the visit might really be made.
Then the chance of catching a bear, or of getting near enough for Tip to catch one, was discussed. Tip was unfastened in order that all his beautiful proportions might be seen more distinctly, and the boys grew so excited over the subject that they forgot the flight of time, until the steamer's whistle aroused them from thoughts of bear-killing.
"Gracious!" exclaimed Bobby, "here we've got home, an' I'd forgotten we was so near."
"Was it Minchin's Island the boat was whistlin' for?"
"Yes. That's the first place she stops at after she leaves the city. Come quick, so's we can get my valise out of the kitchen."
Bobby's valise with its precious contents was still in the care of Mose, its owner not having looked after it more than once each hour, and now he was very uneasy lest he should not be able to get it in time.
Tim was so excited by his companion's fears that he fastened Tip as quickly as possible, not noticing in his haste that the knot was only half tied, and could easily be unloosened.
The valise, with apparently as much in it as when it was intrusted to the old darky's care, was soon in Bobby's possession, and the two boys went on the upper deck, from which the landing was to be made.
Here, standing by the rail, Bobby pointed out the various objects of interest on the island, not forgetting the woods in which he was positive Tip would one day roam in search of the ferocious bear.
Captain Pratt was standing near them, but he was so much engaged in giving orders for the proper landing of the boat that he did not notice his cabin-boy, who was breaking one of the rules of the steamer by loitering on that deck.
The boat was still quite a distance from the shore, and Bobby was pointing out his father's house, when they heard a furious barking, and before they could turn, Tip was jumping up around them. He had found no difficulty in escaping from the half-tied rope, and after that was done it was an easy matter for him to find his young master.
Captain Pratt had heard Tip's joyful greeting also, and as he turned to see the cause of it, the dog, who was in such high spirits at having escaped from his imprisonment that he was ready to show his good-will for every one, left the boys, and fawned upon the Captain as if he was his best friend. Captain Pratt showed very little consideration for the dog, even while he thought he belonged to one of the passengers, and gave him such a kick as sent him half the length of the deck, changing his note of joy to loud yelps of pain.
The place in which Tip had been confined was anything but a clean one, and as a natural consequence, when he jumped upon the Captain, he left the muddy imprints of his paws on the clean blue clothes in which the commander of the Pride of the Wave had that day arrayed himself.
"Whose dog is that?" roared the Captain, as he surveyed the damage done.
"He's mine," answered Tim, who, at the first blow struck his pet, had jumped toward the poor brute, and taken him to his bosom to soothe him.
CAPTAIN PRATT THROWS TIP OVERBOARD.
Then it was that the Captain first saw his cabin-boy on the forbidden ground of the upper deck, and it is positive that if he had had the time just then he would have given him a painful intimation of the mistake he had made. As it was, he walked up to Tim quickly, seized poor Tip by the neck, and flung him as far as possible into the water.
"Now you go below," he said, in a low, angry tone, to Tim, "and after we make this landing I'll settle with you."
Tim paid no more attention to the Captain's words than if they had been uttered by a boy smaller than himself, but rushed frantically to the rail as if he was about to jump after his pet.
The steamer was already so near the wharf that Captain Pratt had no time to see if his order was obeyed, but was obliged to give all his attention to the management of the boat.
It was fortunate for Tip that the Captain was very angry when he threw him into the water, since he, using all his strength, had tossed him so far from the steamer's side that he was in no danger of being drawn under the wheel, as would have been the case had less vigor been used in the cruel deed.
Tip acted like a very sensible dog under the circumstances; he held his head up and struck out boldly for the shore, urged on by a crowd of boys on the wharf.
Tim was almost frantic with grief, believing his pet was perishing before his eyes, and he powerless to save him. It is quite possible that he would have obeyed his first impulse and leaped into the water to try to save Tip, if a passenger had not taken a firm hold of him.
"It's a wicked shame. I'd jest like to take that Captain an' do to him jest as he has done to Tip, an' he such a nice bear dog too," said Bobby, who stood by Tim's side watching Tip's battle for life.
"Do you s'pose he'll drown?" asked Tim, the great tear-drops rolling down his cheeks.
"I dunno," was the cautious reply. "It seems to me his legs is rather short for swimmin' very far, an' then, you see, he ain't got any tail to steer hisself by."
Tim was just giving way to a fresh outburst of grief at these words, which seemed to sound Tip's death-knell, when a gentleman said:
"There isn't the slightest danger of his drowning. It will take him some time to reach the shore, for he's not swimming directly toward it; but he'll come out all right, and it won't do him the least harm."
"An' jest as soon as I get ashore I'll run 'round an' call him in, an' bring him to you," said Bobby, anxious to do something toward saving the life of an animal as valuable as he believed Tip to be.
The dog was yet some distance from the shore when the boat was made fast to the wharf, and Bobby rushed on shore, going toward the point where Tip must land, wholly regardless of his parents, who were waiting to greet him.
Tim started to follow him, bent only on saving his pet, and forgetting that there was such a person in the world as Captain Pratt, when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.
[to be continued.]
[FRIENDS IN NEED.]
This is another "once upon a time" story, only that it was not such a very long time ago that old Grandma Sparrow, Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow, and three little Sparrow children lived on Bird Alley, only three doors away from Mr. Jack Rabbit's house.
When the Sparrow family first moved into Bird Alley the weather was warm, and Mr. Sparrow had not the slightest difficulty in doing his marketing, for food was plenty in the streets, and he knew of as many as a hundred cozy places where water could be found.
So all the summer long this family had three good meals each day simply by going a short distance for them, and when it was very stormy some of the children brought grandma's dinner to her, which showed that they loved the old lady very dearly.
They were as industrious a family as ever lived in that alley, the children doing exactly what their parents desired without ever once crying to go out and play marbles, or to have a new doll, and they always minded their own business, instead of idling around to see what the neighbors were doing.
They knew that just around the corner the Rabbits lived, for several times, when they had been out for food, the Sparrows had seen them at the window, but the two families had never visited each other. Perhaps they were not acquainted, because Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Sparrow had never been introduced, or perhaps politics had something to do with it; at all events, they were not acquaintances, and paid very little attention to each other during the entire summer.
But one morning they awakened very early shivering with the cold, grandmother shaking worse than all. The children were very much surprised, for they had never had any experience with cold weather; but the old folks looked worried, and Mr. Sparrow, without even stopping to read the morning paper, said to his wife:
"I shall have to go out and see if any crumbs have been left for us. You take care of grandmother, and keep the children in the house until I come back."
The baby—for one of the children was so much smaller than the others that they always called her the baby, even though she was only two days younger than the oldest—cried to go out, and was so naughty that grandma had to explain to her what the winter was.
She told her that Mr. Frost came each year on a visit, and locked everything up in ice and snow that he could get hold of, which made it very bad for Sparrows, unless some kind people left bread-crumbs where hungry birds could get them.
The baby was not exactly satisfied with the explanation, because she could not understand how it was that food should be so scarce then, when it had been so plenty the day before; but she was naturally a good little sparrow, and therefore did not grumble at being obliged to remain in the house, even if she could not understand what her grandmother told her.
It was late, and every one was very hungry, when Mr. Sparrow came back. From the look on his face it was easy to see he had not been successful; and after he had warmed his nose and his toes, he told them of the long journey he had taken without finding a single chance for them to get breakfast. Everything out-doors was frozen solid, and it seemed as if the frost had found its way into the hearts of the people at the same time, for not a crumb was to be seen anywhere.
Of course he knew that they must have something to eat, and he said to his wife, much as if he was sorry at being obliged to come to such a decision:
"Every bird in the alley is in the same plight we are, and I don't believe any one of them has food enough in the house for a decent-sized lunch. If it wasn't for grandmother and the children we could go hungry for one day; but they must have something, and I have decided that I will go over to Mr. Jack Rabbit's, and tell him just how we are situated. He always has plenty of oats and barley in the house, and never would miss the little we should eat."
Mrs. Sparrow did not like the idea of begging for a breakfast, and she proposed that they should offer to pay for it by giving the Rabbit family a concert—a plan of which Mr. Sparrow thought very highly.
It did not take them long to dress, for each one had his winter coat on, and in a few moments after they were all sitting on a trough in front of Mr. Rabbit's house.
Grandmother was still so lame that she could hardly sit up straight, and the two older children felt so bashful at having all the young Rabbits looking them straight in the face, that they got over at one end of the trough where they could not be seen so plainly. But the baby sat up between her mother and father as pert as possible, all ready to join in the chorus as soon as the concert should begin.
Old Mrs. Rabbit was so surprised at the sudden appearance of visitors when her house was not fully in order, that she stuck her head out between the bars as if she wanted to smell of them to make sure they were alive, and the children crowded so rudely that Mr. Rabbit was obliged to look over his wife's head in order to see his guests.
Mr. Sparrow began the conversation by saying that he was sorry at thus intruding on strangers, and then told of the condition of affairs in his household, concluding his story by saying that nothing save absolute hunger would have induced him to ask such a favor as that of something to eat.
Then the baby spoke up, and would have told just how hungry she was, but that her mother stepped on her toes to remind her that it was much better for little folks to be seen than heard.
Mr. Rabbit stroked his whiskers sagely while Mr. Sparrow was speaking, and after the baby was hushed, he said, kindly:
"I'm very sorry for you, neighbor, very sorry, and I will take especial pains to have grain enough for your wants pushed out through the cracks of our dining-room when we have our meals. I have always thought that you Sparrows were not treated exactly as you deserved. In the summer the children watch your funny ways, and think you're very nice, while some, I am sorry to say, even steal the eggs from your nest. But when winter comes, they seem to think it too much trouble even to throw out a piece of bread where you can get it when the ground is covered with snow. I shall speak about that same thing to certain parties I know, and next winter I hope it will not happen."
Then Mrs. Rabbit apologized because she had no napkins to give her guests, but Mrs. Sparrow begged of her not to feel badly about that, since they were all so hungry that they would not even stop for plates or forks, and in a few moments the Sparrow family had eaten all they needed.
Mr. Sparrow, anxious to repay his neighbors for their kindness, started a song, and all joined in the chorus, while the Rabbit family clapped their paws until it was repeated over and over again.
These two families became firm friends after that first call, and during all of last winter the Sparrows ate at the Rabbits' table; but Mr. Rabbit says that when the cold weather comes this year he firmly believes his friend the Editor of Young People will do all in his power to induce his young acquaintances to see that their bird friends, who have done so much for their amusement during the summer, are provided with a liberal supply of crumbs during the cold winter months.
THE SPARROW FAMILY VISIT THE RABBIT FAMILY.
ELVES IN THE PICNIC GROVE.
[LAVINIA'S LAWN PARTY.]
BY JOSEPHINE POLLARD.
"Lavinia Dean!"
"Well, what?"
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"
"What for? What am I doing, I'd like to know?" and Lavinia looked out from between the hands that framed her face with an expression of anger, annoyance, and surprise.
Gussie Turner laughed, took off her hat, brushed up her bangs—for it was a warm afternoon—and sat down on the porch beside Vinnie Dean, imitating her very attitude. Lavinia frowned, for she disliked being made fun of; but Gussie was such a jolly girl that it was impossible for any one to be provoked at her for any length of time.
"What's the matter?" asked Gussie. "Why do you sit like a squaw, with your elbows on your knees, and your chin on your hands? Is there trouble on the war-path?"
"No," was the snappish response.
"My!" exclaimed Gussie. "I had no idea you could be so savage. May I inquire to which tribe you belong?"
"I don't belong to any tribe. Do stop your nonsense."
"Don't belong to any tribe? Then why have you put on the war-paint and feathers? Ah, I have it! Eureka! Alabama! The white man has entered your camp and stolen your humpty-dumpty little pappoose. Come, let us prepare for revenge;" and Gussie slipped her arm tenderly round Vinnie's waist. "I ain't much of a fighter myself, but I have a brother who thinks he is equal to a whole tribe of Indians, and if there are any scalps to be taken, we'll send for Tad Turner."
Vinnie found it impossible to resist Gussie Turner; and although she still maintained her humped-up position, her face gave token that the war cloud was almost if not quite dispelled.
"It's about my birthday," said Vinnie.
"What? Wish you'd never been born?" inquired Gussie, with a comically anxious expression. "Dear me!"
"No," said Vinnie, clasping her knees with her hands, "not so bad as that; but I do wish I had been born in the winter."
"Why?" asked Gussie, fanning herself with her hat.
"Well, because I might have had a party then, and music and ice-cream and all the nice things that other girls have. I think it mean to be born in the summer, when it's too hot to do anything, and lots of folks are away."
"Except mosquitoes," said Gussie, striking Vinnie a blow on the shoulder that would have killed a mosquito as large as a grasshopper. It had the effect of rousing Vinnie from her attack of the doldrums; and although she was rather inclined to be angry and resentful, she was soon restored to a more peaceful frame of mind.
"It was a mosquito, really," said Gussie; "but I didn't mean to hit him so hard."
"Hit him?" said Vinnie, rubbing her shoulder. "Hit her, I should say."
"Yes, the females do all the biting," said Gussie, "and that's all I know about them. My birthday is in December," she continued, as if there had been no interruption in the discourse.
"Oh, that's nice!" exclaimed Vinnie.
"No, it isn't," said Gussie. "It isn't nice at all to be born on the 23d of December, for then it's so near Christmas that nobody takes any notice of it."
"But you could have a party."
"We don't have parties at our house, you know," said Gussie, with a change of tone which reminded Vinnie that Mrs. Turner was a nervous invalid, and had to be kept quiet and as free as possible from every annoyance.
Gussie Turner when out-of-doors was an entirely different creature from what she was when in the house, and those who called her a "tomboy" and "hoyden" should have seen her when officiating as head nurse at her mother's bedside. She had a great flow of animal spirits, and was naturally the leader in all out-door sports, which kept her from being cross and cranky. Besides, she had a taste for reading, and was as interested in her brother Tad's adventures as any girl could expect to be, and went fishing or boating with him whenever she could get a chance.
Tad said she was "as good as a boy," which was a very great compliment, I can tell you, and Gussie was better skilled in boys' sports than she was in girls', because she had no sisters to play with. Parties she had no fondness for; they were stupid affairs at best, and she never had been to one that she did not feel as if all her clothes were made of whalebone.
"I'd like a lawn party," she said to Vinnie. "They must be nice."
"What are they like?"
"Oh, I don't know! There's never been one here," said Gussie, "but I've read about them. They're all out-doors. Splendid for summer."
"I should think so," said Vinnie. "But—"
"Well, as Tad would say, what have you butted against now?"
"The lawn. We haven't any;" and Vinnie looked as if she were nearly related to White Cloud or Sitting Bull.
"No," said Gussie, eying the small patch of grass in front of the house almost concealed by the tall shrubbery. "It's too bad. But—"
"Now you've butted against something," exclaimed Vinnie, catching the infection of Gussie's merriment.
"No, I haven't," was the reply. "I've butted over the fence, and have the bull—no, the goat—by the horns. We have—a—lovely—lawn!"
"Gussie!"
"Fact."
"But your mother?"
"I think she'll like it. Tad'll help us. We'll combine our birthdays, and have a royal good time." Here she seized Vinnie around the waist, and waltzed her about to the tune of the "Racquet Galop" until both were out of breath.
Mrs. Turner and Mrs. Dean were consulted, and gave their hearty consent to the proposed plan, and Tad saw a good chance for distinguishing himself. He and Gus had been reading about lawn tennis, and had seen so many illustrations of the game that they were sure they could play it if they had a chance.
Vinnie's birthday was on the 12th of August, and she was to see that the invitations were sent out and the guests invited to her house. The rest was to be kept a profound secret, and as neither Tad's nor Gussie's friends were in the habit of collecting near the house, on account of the known sensitiveness of Mrs. Turner's nerves, it was easy to make all the necessary arrangements.
Tad rigged a fish-net on the lawn, following the exact directions given in Harper's Young People, and was wonderfully well pleased with his success. Vinnie and Gussie encouraged him by their presence, and admired the ease and skill with which he drove the posts and fastened the guy-ropes.
"It's splendid!" exclaimed Vinnie. "Is that all? I don't know much about the game, but I'd like to learn it."
"It's easy," said Tad. "We'll practice before Thursday, if—"
Here Tad gave a comical look toward Gussie, who returned it with a shake of the head. Vinnie caught the signs, but could not interpret them.
"What is it?" she asked. Tad walked off with his hands in his pockets. "It's an if, and you must tell me, Gussie, or I'll be real angry."
"It's mean," replied Gussie, her bright face in an unusual snarl. "We need the racquets and balls, and Tad says they'll cost at least two dollars."
"And did he suppose I'd let him buy them?" asked Vinnie, an indignant color flushing her cheek. "Why, this is my party, you remember!"
"Yes, but it's our lawn, don't you know, and we mustn't have the wrong kind of a racket on it."
Vinnie failed to appreciate the joke, not having much acquaintance with the game. But she talked the matter over with Mrs. Dean, and on Wednesday morning, when Tad was busy picking up the sticks and stones about the lawn, an express wagon drove up to the gate, and a parcel was handed him marked
Mr. Thaddeus Turner.
Tad never felt quite so important in his life, or much better pleased than when he found it contained two handsome racquets and two balls, so that the worry was over about the game of lawn tennis.
There was a note with the parcel from Mr. Dean, which ran thus:
"Mr. Thaddeus Turner:
"Dear Sir,—I have no idea what the expense would be of hiring a lawn, but the inclosed may to some extent cover the ground and relieve from any feeling of indebtedness.
"Yours very truly,
Harrison Dean."
"He's a gentleman," said Tad, folding the note and tucking it away in his vest pocket. "If he is ever up for Congress, I'll vote for him."
It would make too long a story to tell of all the wonderful preparations that were made for the party which was to be the event of the season, or how much Vinnie was benefited by the intimacy with the Turners, who were the nicest kind of people.
The important day arrived, and the girls and boys met at Vinnie Dean's about four o'clock in the afternoon, and were received in the sitting-room, where they laid aside their hats and fixed their frizzes (the girls did), and were prepared to have a good time.
Mrs. Dean had asked Tad to be master of ceremonies, as Arthur was too young for such service, and Tad proved himself equal to the emergency.
He was a great mimic, and amused the company with imitations of Dutch, French, and Irish characters, and was so clever in giving the dialect of each that his anecdotes were received with uproarious laughter.
After an hour of such fun, the merry boy covered his face with a comical mask, and requested "dat all de congregation would jine hands by twos and twos, and peramberate around de kentry for de benefit ob dem fokes what ain't in der percession."
Laughingly they obeyed his command, Gussie and Vinnie taking the head of the column, their eyes dancing with merriment, and their actions betraying that they knew more than they were going to tell. Tad turned the mask around to the back of his head, took a whistle out of his pocket, and began playing "The Rogue's March," which started the "congregation" of twenty off at a lively pace.
Imagine their surprise when they entered Mrs. Turner's grounds and saw the arrangements made for out-of-door sports.
Mrs. Turner was in an easy-chair on the porch, and gave them a smiling greeting, which Tad in a moment returned by getting his troops into line, and giving her a military salute. And then the fun began. Everybody was anxious to learn lawn tennis, and for an hour or so little was heard but the batting of balls and the cries that are a part of the game. Some enjoyed the swing, and others sat on the grass under the trees, or walked about with arms interlaced.
Gussie was everywhere, and at a signal from her, six of the larger girls took their places on the lawn, facing the house, and ready to have a "fan drill." This was a surprise to Vinnie Dean and her mother, who sat beside Mrs. Turner on the porch, and for the time being the lawn tennis court was abandoned.
The six girls were in white; three of them had red fans, three blue. Gussie acted as Captain, and her fan was of both colors, her dress being also red and blue. The orders were given so nicely and obeyed with such precision that even Tad was surprised. He had no idea that girls could be so smart, or had so much knowledge of military affairs.
As they stood in line each girl held her fan closed at her side.
"Carry fans!" said Captain Gus. The fans were brought to the shoulder.
"Present fans!" They were struck on the left hand with a unanimous sound.
"Open fans!" They were spread with a rush.
"Rest fans!" They were closed with a snap, and returned to the right side. Then there were the "bashful flutter," "angry flutter," "scornful flutter," and a variety of other movements not set down in any military tactics.
The audience were delighted, and for some time after the drill the snapping and fluttering of fans continued.
When Tad blew the whistle there was a general start, for it was an afternoon of surprises.
In single file the company marched back to "The Deanery," where they were received by Vinnie's mother, and regaled with cakes, bonbons, and ice-cream. At the close of the repast each girl and boy was presented with a German bonbon containing a paper cap or mantle, some of which were very becoming to their wearers.
As it began to grow dark preparations were made for a general breaking up, which Tad prevented by calling his recruits together, and marching them back to his own house, where they found the lawn illuminated with colored lamps, and looking "just like fairy-land." Then they danced and sang and played games until they were tired, and by nine o'clock the party was over.
Vinnie thanked Tad and Gussie, who thanked her in return, all three declaring they had had a "perfectly lovely," "splendid," and "magnificent" time; and it was such a co-operative affair that to this day Vinnie is in doubt whether it was her birthday party or Gussie's. It was such a funny thing to borrow a lawn! But Tad and Gussie thought it an excellent arrangement, and told Vinnie that whenever she gave a birthday party they should expect to do their part of the entertaining, and Vinnie begins to think that, after all, she must have been born under a lucky star even if it was in the dog-days; for it is the luckiest thing in the world to have friends who are willing and ready to put themselves out in order to do us a favor.
MISS DELPHINA'S SCHOOL.