Half a dozen boys

by Anna Chapin Ray

In the mean time, Rob had been dreaming of his summer visit on the St. Lawrence. He and cousin Bess had been trying to row a large trunk from the hotel to Island Den, with a pair of tennis rackets for oars, and Fred stood on the bank, refusing to let them land. Each time that they came near the shore, he would push the boat off again. Then he seemed to hear Mr. Muir's voice calling them to row around to the other side of the island,—and at this point, Rob waked up with a sleepy yawn. As soon as he could collect his scattered ideas, he became aware that some one was talking near him, talking low and very earnestly. He recognized the voice at once as Mr. Muir's, and then he heard Bess speak a word or two, but so faintly that he was unable to hear what she said. What was happening?

Cautiously Rob applied his eye to the crack in the screen. His curiosity was increased. Mr. Muir was bending over Bess, and seemed to be pleading with her, while her face was turned away and looked very white. Rob was sure that he saw that her eyes were wet. It was certainly very strange. What could Mr. Muir be saying to cousin Bessie to make her cry? And what was he doing there anyway? Ah, Rob, much better ask what you are doing there, wonderingly looking on at such a scene!

But a few words from Mr. Muir fell on his ears, and, by throwing some light on the affair, turned his anxiety into another channel. Here was a fine position for an honorable boy, to be caught eavesdropping in this way! Should he stay quietly where he was until they had gone, and then go away and never tell that he had been there? But if he stayed, he must hear every word of the interview, that was bidding fair to be a long one; and then, they might find him in his corner. But, on the other hand, if he emerged then and there, it would lead to an awkward explanation and mutual confusion. Holding his fingers in his ears to keep out the sound of their voices, he meditated on his position. What a stupid he was to go to sleep there, just like a great, overgrown baby! He wondered if he could get out of the window without their hearing him open it. No, that was no use. They were exactly between him and the door, so escape on that side was impossible. But it was all still in the room; could they have gone away, and he not heard them? No, there they sat, their chairs quite close together, and Frank's hand lying on Bessie's. Their silence was but a short one, and they were soon talking again. The crisis must be past, for their voices were once more clear and animated. Rob didn't want to hear what they were saying, for it was no affair of his, and then, it must be confessed, their remarks were not of a nature to be generally interesting. More and more closely the boy held his ears, but it was no use: the words would find their way between his fingers, and he found that he must either show himself, or become a party to all their personal and private plans.

At this point, Rob's mischief asserted itself. It was a bad matter, at best, but he was resolved to have a little fun out of it. Their backs were towards him, that was one good thing. Silently mounting his chair, he stood up so that his head and shoulders appeared above the top of the tall screen, extended his arms in the air, and shouted with the full strength of his lungs,—

"Bless you, my children!"

"BLESS YOU, MY CHILDREN!"

The effect was marvellous. Instantly the two chairs were drawn to the opposite corners of the hearth, while Mr. Muir began poking the fire with an unnecessary vigor, and Bessie dropped her head guiltily, as her face became rosy red.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I won't again. I didn't hear much," said Rob incoherently, as he burst from his place of concealment. "I didn't care to hear anything about it, really; only I went to sleep there all alone, and when I waked up, you were at it. I didn't s'pose you would do it so soon, anyway. Next time, tell a fellow when it's coming, and I'll try to keep out of the way."