Part 10 (1/2)
We had great larks sliding down these dunes and we got so dusty we were ashamed to face the maid who had dried our clothes, knowing she would have some invidious remarks to make about the uselessness of our having washed, as she designated our sea bathing.
And now it was time to go home. We bade the grinning maid farewell, much richer from our visit, as she was handsomely tipped by Wink, the purse-bearer from the camp, and Zebedee, the ever lavish.
”When you gits dirty agin they's always plinty er water here,” she called out.
We changed places going back, as it was deemed not quite safe for Annie and me to travel in the cat boat again. ”Even if you can swim to Africa,” said Jim.
Annie was glad enough to get into the safer boat, but I enjoyed sailing more than motoring, although that was delightful enough. Miss c.o.x and Mr. Gordon came with us and Mary and Rags. Sleepy ran the boat and although we were very quiet on the trip, everyone feeling a little tired and very peaceful, I noticed that Sleepy did not go to sleep; when he was not running the engine, he seemed to be taken up with looking after Annie's comfort.
Once when our craft came close to the cat boat, Dum called out:
”Sing, Annie, sing!” and all of the rest, with the exception of Mabel, joined in the request. And Annie sang:
”'Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
”'Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon: Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep my little one, sleep my pretty one, sleep.'”
”Ah, ha, Miss Page Allison!” broke in Mabel's strident voice as we disembarked at Willoughby, after the very smooth, peaceful journey, ”'The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.'”
”That's so, but why this remark?” I asked. ”What race has there been and what battle?” The men were making all s.h.i.+p-shape in the boats while we girls strolled on ahead. I had not the slightest idea what Mabel was talking about.
”Why, I got your middle-aged beau, all right, all right! I fancy he was glad enough to get away from you bread-and-b.u.t.ter school girls and have some sensible conversation with a grown-up.” I could not help smiling at this, having often listened entranced to Mabel's methods of entertaining men. If that was what she called sensible conversation, Zebedee must have been truly edified.
”Well, it was a good thing Mr. Tucker, if that is the middle-aged beau in question, was wise enough to take his bread-and-b.u.t.ter first before he indulged in the rich and heavy mental food that you fed him on. If he had taken it on an empty head, as it were, it might have seriously impaired his mental digestion.” I fired this back at Mabel, angered in spite of myself.
”And so, Miss, you say Mr. Tucker has an empty head! How should you like for me to tell him you said so?”
”Tell him what you choose,” I answered, confident of Zebedee's knowing me too well to believe I said anything of the sort. ”And how would you like me to tell Mr. Tucker you called him middle-aged?” and I left the ill-natured girl with her mouth wide open. I wanted peace, but if Mabel wanted battle then I was not one to run away. No one had heard her remark and I felt embarra.s.sed at the thought of repeating it. I could hardly tell Tweedles that Mabel called their father ”my middle-aged beau,” and certainly I could not repeat such a thing to Zebedee himself. Mabel was evidently bent on mischief but I felt pretty sure that in a battle of wits I could come out victorious. All I feared was that she would do something underhand. Certainly she was not above it.
Like most deceitful persons, she was fully capable of thinking others were as deceitful as herself.
CHAPTER XII.
FRECKLES AND TAN.
The next day we were lazy after the excitement of the sail to Cape Henry. All of us slept late and when we did wake, we seemed to be not able to get dressed.
”Let's have a kimono day,” yawned Dee. ”Zebedee and Miss c.o.x have gone to Norfolk and there is not a piece of a hemale or grown-up around, so s'pose we just loaf all day.”
”That will be fine, not to dress at all until time to go to the hop!” we exclaimed in chorus. There was to be a hop that night at the hotel, to which we were looking forward with great enthusiasm. Zebedee was to meet Harvie Price and Thomas Hawkins (alias Shorty) in Norfolk and bring them back to Willoughby, where they expected to stay for several days. These were the two boys we had liked so much at Hill Top, the boys' school near Gresham, and Zebedee had taken a great fancy to both of them.
”I do wish my hateful, little, old nose wasn't so freckled,” I moaned.
”I know I got a dozen new ones yesterday,--freckles, not noses. I'd like to get a new nose, all right.”
”Me, too!” chimed in Dee. ”What are we going to look like at a ball with these noses and necks?”
”Thank goodness, my freckles all run together,” laughed Mary, ”and the more freckled I get the more beautiful I am,” and she made such a comical face that we burst out laughing.