Part 17 (1/2)
They discussed the new plan with great gusto. Billy was for making a huge mystery out of it all, like the meeting of some secret society. He proposed smuggling a luncheon out of the Carpenter and Baker pantries and to keep the spot they were to visit a secret. But Christopher did not see the charm of this. He preferred to tell straight out that the three boys wished to go on a picnic. He knew that he would have a much better time if he ”had it out” plainly with Jane, instead of slipping away from her, and that Huldah would certainly put up a much better lunch-if she were asked politely-than he and Billy could ever get together by stealth. The swimming was the only part of the programme he did not care to discuss openly.
”Well, we'll do it as soon as we can,” he concluded, as they reached Mr.
Parsons' gate. ”I'll send you word by Perk when he comes in for the mail, or mebbe you'd better ride out to the farm on your bike and we'll talk it over.”
”All right,” replied Billy, lingering a moment as Christopher walked up the path. ”I can go any time. I don't have to scheme to get away from the girls.”
With which parting thrust he vaulted the fence into his own garden. He would have liked to be invited to the tea-party, too, but Christopher never dreamed of suggesting such a thing. He believed that Billy was laughing at him for joining the girls and his cheeks grew very red. He stopped and for a moment was tempted to turn back and sit on the fence with Bill, and talk of swimming, baseball and other manly topics until his grandmother was ready to go home. But just then he looked around-he had reached the corner of the house-and caught sight of the white-covered table, loaded with goodies. He went on.
CHAPTER XII
LETTY SINGS A LULLABY
After the lemonade had all been drunk and most of the cakes eaten-for not even Christopher's best efforts could quite empty the many plates-Letty offered to go back to her storytelling. She sat down on the gra.s.s with her back against a tree trunk and the twins curled themselves up contentedly on each side. Little Anna Parsons sat silent at her feet.
”Why are your stories always about people or fairies who sing beautifully?” asked Christopher unexpectedly, after Letty had related two or three tales of her own invention. ”Do you sing, Letty?”
”I should like to. Oh, how I should like to!” sighed Letty, clasping her hands.
”Sing something to us now,” commanded Jane.
”I only know one or two songs,” replied Letty shyly, ”and they are old songs. I think you children must know them already. I was never taught to sing,” she added quickly.
”Neither were we, except in Sunday-school, but we'll sing for you, if you like,” said Christopher politely. ”Sit up, Jane, and we'll give her 'Onward, Christian Soldiers.'”
”I think Letty'd like 'There's a Work for Me and a Work for You'
better,” objected Jane. ”Her stories always have something about doing things in them.”
”Well, don't the Christian Soldiers do things? They conquer the world and all that sort of thing. I like that song because you can make such a jolly lot of noise over it. It's a regular shouter.”
”Boys always like to make a noise,” said Jane to Letty with an apologetic air. ”But they are not the nicest kind of songs. I like lullabies and such things. Letty, don't you know a lullaby? I guess you used to have to sing them to Mrs. Drake's baby, didn't you?”
Tears filled Letty's eyes at the memory Jane's words called up, of the cuddly, drowsy baby she had hushed to sleep so often.
”Yes, I used to sing Mrs. Drake's baby to sleep. Shall I sing you that song?” she asked.
Once, on the memorable occasion of which she had told Mrs.
Hartwell-Jones, Letty's brother had taken her to a concert. One of the songs was DeKoven's ”Winter Lullaby.” The soft, crooning cadence of the song had thrilled Letty's heart and she had listened with rapture. The song had been repeated in response to an encore and so, by careful attention, she had managed to memorize the words of the two verses. She sang it now to the children and as she began, grandmother and Mrs.
Hartwell-Jones suddenly ceased their talk and sat listening.
A WINTER LULLABY
”The valley is going to sleep, the birds in their nest are still And the maple branches bend and break, over the leafless hill: And the pitying sky looks down, and whispers to the snow, Let us cover the hills so bare and brown, where the flowers used to grow; And she croons a lullaby, through the hush of the storm- Sleep, sleep in your cradle deep, sleep, sleep in your cradle deep And I will keep you warm, so sleep, sleep, sleep!
”The valley is going to wake, the birds in their nest will sing And the maple branches bud and break, into the leaves of spring, And the gleaming vale shall hear another lullaby, And zephyrs will whisper it into her ear, out of the heart of the sky: Another lullaby, tuned to the heart of the stream,- Wake, wake for your robin's sake, wake, wake for your robin's sake; And tell the sky your dream, so wake, wake, wake!”
When she had finished grandmother exclaimed in a low voice: