“We promise!” cried Bell.
CHAPTER VII
POLLY’S BIRTHDAY: FIRST HALF IN WHICH SHE REJOICES AT THE MERE FACT OF HER EXISTENCE
“‘O frabjous day! Calooh! Callay!’
He chortled in his joy.”
Polly’s birthday dawned auspiciously. At six o’clock she was kissed out of a sound sleep by Bell and Margery, and the three girls slipped on their wrappers, and prepared to run through the trees for a morning plunge in Mirror Pool. Although it was August there was still water enough in Minnehaha Brook to give one a refreshing dip. Mirror Pool was a quarter of a mile distant and well guarded with rocks and deep hidden in trees; but a little pathway had been made to the water’s edge, and thus the girls had easy access to what they called The Mermaid’s Bath. A bay-tree was adorned with a little redwood sign, which bore a picture of a mermaid, drawn by Margery, and below the name these lines in rustic letters:—
“A hidden brook,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.”
Laura had not lived long enough in the woods to enjoy these cold plunges; and, as her ideal was a marble tub, with scented water, and a French maid to apply the same with a velvet sponge, it is not much wonder. She insisted that, though it was doubtless a very romantic proceeding, the bottom and sides of the natural tub were quite too rocky and rough for her taste, and that she should be in constant terror of snakes curling round her toes.
“I’ve a great mind to wake Laura, just for once,” said Bell, opening the tent door. “There never was such a morning! (I believe I’ve said that regularly every day; but I simply never can get used to it.) There must have been a wonderful sunrise, dears, for the glow hasn’t faded yet. Not a bit of morning fog—that’s good for Elsie. And what a lovely day for a birthday! Did they use to give you anything like this in Vermont, Polly?”
“Hardly,” said Polly, peering over Bell’s shoulder. “Let’s see. What did they give us in Vermont this month? Why, I can’t think of anything but dog-days, hot nights, and hay fever; but that sounds ungrateful. Why, Geoff’s up already! There’s Elsie’s bunch of vines, and twigs, and pretty things hanging on her tent-door. He’s been off on horseback. Just my luck to have him get up first. Jack always does, you know; and last night I sewed up the tent-opening with carpet-thread, good and tight, overhand—stitches I wouldn’t be ashamed of at a sewing-school.”
“Oh you naughty girl!” laughed Bell. “The boys could rip it open with a knife in half the time it took you to sew it.”
“Certainly. I didn’t mean to keep them sewed up all day; but I thought I’d like Jack to remember me the first thing this morning.”