CHAPTER III
AN EARLY STROLL
Soon after daybreak next morning, Dolly woke, and surveyed withsatisfaction her pretty room.
Pink roses clambered over the wall paper, and over the chintz hangingsand furniture, and over the soft, dainty bed-coverlet.
It was much more attractive than her room at Aunt Helen’s, and as Dollyloved pretty things, she gave a little sigh of content and nestledcomfortably into her pillows. Then she heard Dick’s voice whisperingthrough the closed door between their rooms.
“Hi, Dolly; I say! Aren’t you up yet?”
“No, are you?”
“Yes, and ’most dressed. Hustle, can’t you? and let’s go out and chasearound the place.”
“Before breakfast?”
“Yes; breakfast isn’t until eight o’clock, and it’s only six now.”
“All right, I’ll hustle,” and Dolly sprang out of bed, and began todress.
The twins were a self-reliant pair, and quite capable and methodicalwhen they had time to be.
Dolly dressed herself neatly in a clean blue and white plaid gingham;and as she could tie her hair ribbon quite well enough, except forspecial occasions, the blue bow on her golden curls was entirelysatisfactory.
“I’m all ready, Dick,” she whispered at last, through the door, “and wemustn’t make any noise, for maybe the aunties are asleep yet.”
“All right; I’ll meet you in the hall.”
So both children went on tiptoe out into the big, light hall, and softlydown the stairs.
No one seemed to be stirring, but they unfastened the locks and chainsof the front doors, and stepped out into the beautiful fresh morning.
“I’ve _got_ to holler!” said Dick, still whispering. “They can’t hear usnow.”
“Yes, they can; wait till we get farther away from the house.”
So, hand in hand, they ran down the garden path, and when a grape arbourand a cornfield were between them and their sleeping aunts, they decidedthey were out of hearing.
“Hooray!” yelled Dick, as loud as he could, at the same time turning ajubilant handspring.
Dolly was quite as glad as her brother, but contented herself withdancing about, and giving little squeals of delight as she saw onerapturous sight after another.
“Oh, Dick,” she cried, “there’s a fountain! ’way over there on thelittle hill. Do you s’pose that’s on our grounds?”
“’Course it is. This is all ours, as far as you can see, and more too.That woodsy place over there is ours; Pat told me so.”
“We’ll have picnics there. And Dick, maybe there are fairies in thewoods.”
“Sure there are. That’s just the kind of woods that has fairies. Butthey only come out at night, you know.”
“Yes, but it’s only just a little past night now. The sun has only beenup a short time. Maybe there are some fairies there yet.”
“Maybe; let’s go and see.”
With a skip and a jump the children started for the woods, which,however proved to be farther away than they had thought.
They trudged merrily on, stopping now and then to speak to a robin, orkick at a dandelion, but at last they came to the edge of the grove.
“Oh, Dick!” cried Dolly, in ecstasy, “think of having a real woods,right in our own yard! Isn’t it gorgeous!”
“Great! but go softly now, if we want to see fairies. I’m ’fraid they’veall gone.”
Hand in hand the children tiptoed into the wood. They moved verycautiously, lest they should step on a twig, or make any noise thatshould frighten the fairies.
“There’s where they dance,” whispered Dick, pointing to a smooth, greenmossy place. “But of course they always fly away when the sun rises.”
“Yes, I s’pose so,” said Dolly, regretfully. “Shall we come out earlierto-morrow?”
“Yes; or we might come out to see them some night. Moonlight nights;that’s the time!”
“Would you dare? Oh, Dick, wouldn’t it be grand!”
“Hey, Dolly, there’s a squirrel; a real, live one! That’s better’nfairies. Oh, look at him!”
Sure enough, a grey squirrel ran past them, and now sat, turning hishead back to look at them, but ready for instant flight if they moved.
But they didn’t move, they knew better; and scarce daring to breathe,they sat watching the wonderful sight.
Meantime, there was consternation in the household. At seven o’clockMiss Rachel had sent Hannah, the waitress, to call the twins.
The maid returned with a scared face, and announced that the childrenhad gone.
“Gone!” cried Miss Rachel, who was engaged in making her own toilet;“where have they gone?”
“I don’t know, ma’am; but they’re not in their rooms, and the front dooris wide open.”
“Oh, they’ve run away!” cried Miss Rachel, and hastily throwing on adressing gown, she went to her sister’s room.
“Get up, Abbie,” she exclaimed. “Those children have run away!”
“Run away? What do you mean?”
“Why, they’ve gone! I suppose they didn’t like us. Perhaps they werehomesick, or something. Abbie, do you suppose they’ve gone back toChicago, all alone?”
“Nonsense, Rachel, of course they haven’t! Children always rise early.They’re probably walking in the garden.”
“No, I don’t think so. Something tells me they’ve run away because theydon’t like us. Oh, Abbie, do you think that’s it?”
“No, I don’t. Go on and dress. They’ll be back by the time you’re readyfor breakfast. If you’re worried, send Hannah out to hunt them up.”
So Hannah was sent, but as she only looked in the verandas and in thegardens near the house, of course, she didn’t find the twins. By thetime the ladies came downstairs, Hannah had impressed Pat and Michaelinto service, and all three were hunting for the missing guests.
But it never occurred to them to go so far as the woods, where Dick andDolly were even then sitting, watching the grey squirrel, and lookingfor fairies.
“I’m thinkin’ they’ve fell in the pond,” said Pat, as he gazed anxiouslyinto the rather muddy water.
“Not thim!” said Michael; “they’re not the sort that do be aftherdrownin’ thimsilves. They’re too frisky. Belikes they’ve run back to thebrook where they shtopped at yisterday. Do yez go there an’ look, Pat.”
“Yes, do,” said Miss Rachel, who, with clasped hands and a white facewas pacing the veranda.
“Don’t take it so hard, sister,” implored Miss Abbie. “They’re aroundsomewhere, I’m sure; and if not,—why, you know, Rachel, you didn’t wantthem here very much, anyway.”
“How can you be so heartless!” cried Miss Rachel, her eyes staringreproachfully at her sister. “I do want them; they’re brother’schildren, and this is their rightful home. But I wish they wanted tostay. I’m sure they ran away because they didn’t like us. Do you thinkwe were too harsh with them yesterday?”
“Perhaps so. At any rate, they _have_ run away. I thought they were inthe garden, but if so, they would have been found by now. Do you supposethey took an early train back to New York?”
“Oh, Abbie, how _can_ you say so! Those two dear little mites alone in agreat city! I can’t think it!”
“It’s better than thinking they are drowned in the pond.”
“Either is awful; and yet of course some such thing must have happened.”
The two ladies were on the verge of hysterics, and the servants, who hadall been hunting for the children, were nonplussed. Pat had jumped on ahorse, and galloped off to the brook which had so taken their fancy theday before, and Michael stood, with his hands in his pockets, wonderingif he ought to drag the pond. Delia, the cook, had left the waitingbreakfast and had come to join the anxious household.
“I’m thinkin’ they’re not far off,” she said; “why don’t ye blow a horn,now?”
“That’s a good idea,”
said Miss Abbie; “try it, Michael.”
So Michael found an old dinner-horn that had hung unused in the barn formany years, and he blew resounding blasts.
But unfortunately, the babes in the woods were too far away to hear, andforgetful of all else they watched two squirrels, who, reassured by thechildren’s quiet, ran back and forth, and almost came right up to Dickand Dolly’s beckoning fingers.
“If only we had something to feed them,” said Dick, vainly hunting hispockets for something edible.
“If only we had something to feed ourselves,” said Dolly; “I’m justabout starved.”
“So’m I; let’s go back now, and come to see the squirrels some othertime, and bring them some nuts.”
“All right, let’s.”
So back they started, but leisurely, for they had no thought of how thetime had slipped by. They paused here and there to investigate manythings, and it was well on toward nine o’clock when they came withinhearing of Michael’s horn, on which he was blowing a last, despairingblast.
“Hear the horn!” cried Dick. “Do you s’pose that’s the way they call thefamily to breakfast?”
“Oh, it isn’t breakfast time, yet,” said Dolly, confidently. “I’m hungryenough, but it can’t be eight o’clock, I know. And, besides, I want timeto tidy up.”
The clean frock had lost its freshness, and the blue bow was sadlyaskew, for somehow, try as she would, Dolly never could keep herselfspick and span.
They trudged along, through the barnyard and the garden, and finallycame to the kitchen door, which stood invitingly open.
“Let’s go in this way,” said Dolly; “it’s nearer, and I can skin up tomy room and brush my hair. I don’t want Auntie Rachel to think I’malways messy.”
In at the back door they went, and as the kitchen was deserted, theylooked around in some surprise.
“Might as well catch a bun,” said Dick, seeing a panful of rolls in thewarming oven.
The hungry children each took a roll, and then sped on up to theirrooms, intent on tidying themselves for breakfast.
“For goodness’ sake, Dolly!” exclaimed Dick’s voice through the door,“it’s after nine o’clock! Do you s’pose they’ve had breakfast, and whereis everybody?”
“After nine o’clock!” said Dolly, opening the door, to make sure she hadheard aright. “Well, if this isn’t the queerest house! Hurry up, Dick,and brush your hair, and we’ll go down and see what’s the matter. I knowthey haven’t had breakfast, for the kitchen range was all full ofcereals and things.”
A few moments later, two neat and well-brushed children tripped gailydownstairs. They went into the library, where their two aunts, nearly ina state of collapse, were reposing in armchairs.
“Good-morning, aunties,” said the twins, blithely. “Are we late?”
Miss Abbie gasped and closed her eyes, at the astonishing sight, butMiss Rachel, who was of a different nature, felt all her anxiety turn toexasperation, and she said, sternly:
“You naughty children! Where have you been?”
“Why, we just got up early, and went to look around the place,”volunteered Dolly, “and we didn’t know it got late so soon.”
“But where were you? We’ve searched the place over.”
“We went to the woods,” said Dick. “You see, Aunt Abbie, I felt as if Imust screech a little, and we thought if we stayed too near the house,we might wake you up. It was awful early then. I don’t see how nineo’clock came so soon! Did we keep breakfast back? I’m sorry.”
“Why did you want to screech?” said Miss Abbie, quickly. “Are youhomesick?”
“Oh, no! I mean screech for joy. Just shout, you know, for fun, and jumparound, and turn somersaults. I always do those things when I’m glad.But as it turned out, we couldn’t, very much, for we were watching forfairies, and then for squirrels, so we had to be quiet after all.”
“And so you wanted to shout for joy, did you?” asked Aunt Rachel, muchmollified at the compliments they paid so unconsciously.
“Oh, yes’m! Everything is so beautiful, and so—so sort of enchanted.”
“Enchanted?”
“Yes; full of fairies, and sprites. The woods, you know, and the pond,and the fountain,—oh, Dana Dene is the finest place I ever saw!”
Dick’s enthusiasm was so unfeigned, and his little face shone with suchintense happiness, that Miss Rachel hadn’t the heart to scold him afterall. So, resolving to tell the twins later of the trouble they hadcaused, she went away to tell Delia to send in breakfast, and to tellMichael to go and find Patrick, for the twins had returned.
“Oh, how good the cool ripply water didfeel!” (Page 10)]
“You see,” explained Dolly, as they sat at breakfast, “we went out ofthe house at half-past seven, by the big, hall clock. And I thought thenwe’d stay an hour, and get back in time to fix up before we saw you.We’re not very good at keeping clean.”
“So I see,” said Aunt Abbie, glancing at several grass stains and azigzag tear that disfigured Dolly’s frock.
“Yes’m; so we ’most always try to get in to meals ahead of time, andthat ’lows us to spruce up some.”
“We try to,” said Dick, honestly, “but we don’t always do it.”
“No,” returned Dolly, calmly; “’most never. But isn’t it ’stonishing howfast the time goes when you think there’s plenty?”
“It is,” said Aunt Rachel, a little grimly. “And now that you’re to livehere, you’ll have to mend your ways, about being late, for I won’t havetardiness in my house.”
“All right,” said Dolly, cheerfully; “I’ll hunt up my watch. It doesn’tgo very well, except when it lies on its face; but if I put it in mypocket upside down, maybe it’ll go.”
“It must be a valuable watch,” remarked Aunt Abbie.
“Yes’m, it is. Auntie Helen gave it to me for a good-by gift, but Ilooked at it so often, that I thought it would be handier to wear ithanging outside, like a locket, you know. Well, I did, and then itbanged into everything I met. And the chain caught on everything, andthe watch got dented, and the crystal broke, and one hand came off. Butit was the long hand, so as long as the hour hand goes all right, I canguess at the time pretty good. If I’d just had it with me this morning,we’d been all right. I’m real sorry we were late.”
Aunt Rachel smiled, but it was rather a grim smile.
“I don’t set much store by people who are sorry,” she said; “what Ilike, are people who don’t do wrong things the second time. If you arenever late to breakfast again, that will please me more than being sorryfor this morning’s escapade.”
“I’ll do both,” said Dolly, generously, and indeed, the twins soonlearned to be prompt at meals, which is a habit easily acquired, if onewishes to acquire it.