Part 16 (1/2)

”Yes, the room will do very well.”

It was rather faint praise and took very little time to say when one considered that Gwen had spent days on her task. But Nan and Douglas made up to her for their cousin's seeming coldness by going into raptures over the cabin.

”Lewis did not tell us he was going to whitewash the room for Cousin Lizzie,” said Nan.

”I whitewashed it myself. The young gentlemen were so occupied with constructing the pavilion that I could not bear to interrupt them.” Nan and Douglas could not help smiling at the little English girl's stilted language but they hid their amus.e.m.e.nt. ”I prepared the attic room for the negro maid. Would you like to go up and see that?”

”Yes, indeed! Come on, Susan, and see your room. It is to be right up over Cousin Lizzie's.”

”Well, praise be to my Maker that I ain't goin' to have to sleep in the air. My lungs is weak at best an' no doubt the air would be the death of me.”

Susan's figure belied her words, as she was an exceedingly buxom girl with a chest expansion that Sandow might have envied her.

The attic was entered by a trap door from the room below and in lieu of stairs there was nothing but a ladder made chicken-steps style: small cross pieces nailed on a board.

The attic room was scrubbed as clean as Miss Lizzie's. The low ceiling and very small windows certainly suited Susan's idea of sanitation, as very little air could find its way into the chamber. A rough wooden bed was built against the wall, as is often the way in mountain cabins, more like a low, deep shelf than a bed. Gwen had stuffed a new tick with nice clean straw and Susan bid fair to have pleasant dreams on her fresh bed. A night spent without dreams of some kind was one wasted in the eyes of the colored girl who consulted her dream book constantly.

Josh had railed at Gwen for putting a bunch of black-eyed Susans in the attic room.

”Waitin' on a n.i.g.g.e.r! Humph! You uns ain't called on to lower yo'sef that a way. n.i.g.g.e.rs is n.i.g.g.e.rs an' we uns would ruther to bust than fetch an' carry fer 'em.”

”This seems a very small thing to do,” Gwen had answered. She did not share the mountaineer's prejudice against the black race. ”I have no doubt this girl will like flowers just as much as Miss Somerville.”

So she did and a great deal more, as she expressed her appreciation of the tomato can of posies, and Miss Somerville had not even noticed the bouquets in her room. As Susan followed the girls up the funny steps and her head emerged through the trap door, her eyes immediately fell on the flowers.

”Well, Gawd be praised! My dream is out! I done fell asleep in the cyars an' dream I see little chillun picking flowers in a fiel'. My book say that is one er two interpretations: you is either goin' ter have fresh flowers laid on yer grabe er some one is goin' ter make you a prisint er flowers. I thank yer, little miss, fer the bowkay.”

”Indeed, you are welcome,” and Gwen gave her a grave smile.

Susan had been quite doubtful at first what her att.i.tude should be with this white girl who went barefooted and whitewashed cabins herself. She knew very well how to treat po' white trash: like the dust under her feet. There was no other way for a self-respecting colored girl to treat them. But this white girl was different, somehow.

”She got a high steppin' way that is mo' like quality,” she declared to Oscar later. ”She calls that slab-sided, shanty-boat 'ooman Aunt Mandy, but I 'low they ain't no kin. Now that there Josh is low flung. I think Miss Douglas is crazy to let Bobby run around with him as much as she do. I bet his maw would stop it fast enough.”

The Carter girls' enthusiasm and praise for the camp fully repaid the young men for their untiring labor. The pavilion was really a thing of beauty, built right up in the trees, as it were, like a great nest. It had no walls, but the roof projected far enough to keep out anything short of horizontal rain. An artistic rustic seat encircled the great poplar trunk in the centre and rough benches were built around three sides of the hall. Stairs went down on the fourth side to the kitchen in the bas.e.m.e.nt, and outside, steps gave entrance to the pavilion. The whole building was screened. This was to be dining-room, living-room, dance hall and everything and anything they chose to make of it. The girls had reserved their victrola in renting the house and it now had the place of honor near the circular seat.

”We just unpacked it this morning,” said Lewis. ”There was no use in music with no girls to dance with.”

”Aren't men strange creatures?” laughed Helen. ”Now girls love to dance so, they dance with each other, but two men would just as soon do fancy work as dance with one another.”

”Sooner,” muttered Bill. ”Let's have a spin!”

So a spirited ”one-step” was put on and then the youths felt themselves to be overpaid for their work as they danced over the floor that had been the cause of many an aching joint and mashed thumb. Joints were not aching now and mashed thumbs were miraculously cured by clasping the hands of these pretty girls.

That first supper in the mountains was a very merry one. Miss Elizabeth was much refreshed by a nap and came to the pavilion quite resigned to life. She had nothing but praise for the handiwork of her beloved nephew, and even included the laconic Bill in her compliments. She wished, however, he would not be so sudden in his laughter as she was afraid it betrayed the vacant mind.

Gwen had made a delicious frica.s.see of chicken in the fireless cooker, the mysteries of which she had been taught at the mission school. Hot biscuit and honey from Aunt Mandy's hive completed the feast.

”What delicious biscuit!” exclaimed Douglas. ”Isn't Gwen a wonder?”

”'Scuse me, Miss Douglas, but I made them biscuit,” said Susan, who was waiting on the table.