The Merryweathers

  CHAPTER XII.

  "SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT--"

  "A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast--"

  PHIL MERRYWEATHER was singing as he brought his boat about. "Slackenyour sheet, Peggy! easy--that's right! a half-hitch--look here, younglady! I believe you have been humbugging us all; don't tell me you neversailed a boat before!"

  "Never in all my life!" said Peggy, looking up joyously. "I have onlydreamed of it and thought about it, ever since I can remember. And Ihave read the 'Seaman's Friend,' and 'Two Years Before the Mast,' so Ido know a little bit about how things ought to go. I think every girlought to learn how to sail a boat, if she possibly can; but out on theranch, you see, there really wasn't any chance. We could only makebelieve, but we used to have great fun doing that."

  "How did you make your believe? I should like to hear about it. Ease heroff a bit--so--as you are!"

  "Why, we made a boat out of the great swing in the barn. It is a hugebarn, and the swing is big enough for three elephants to swing on atonce; and Hugh fastened hammocks along it lengthwise, and then riggedropes and pulleys for us, and an old canvas hammock with the ends cutoff for a sail; so we swung, and called it sailing, and had storms andshipwrecks, and all kinds of adventures. It was great fun. Oh, I do wishsome of you could come out to the ranch some day. If there was onlywater, it would be the best place in the world--except this andFernley."

  "I'm coming some day!" said Phil. "See if I don't. It must be corkingsport, riding about over those great plains."

  "Oh! it is!" cried Peggy. "When you come, Phil, you shall ride Monte. Heis the most beautiful creature, a Spanish jennet. Jack Del Monte senthim to brother Jim, but he isn't up to Jim's weight, so he lets me ridehim. He is like the horses in poetry, that is the only way I candescribe him; white as milk, with great dark eyes, and graceful--oh, I_do_ want you to see him. No horse in poetry was ever half so beautiful;in fact, I think I take back what I said; I don't really think poetsknow much about horses; do you?"

  "'Zebra-footed, ostrich-thighed,'" quoted Phil, laughing.

  "I know!" said Peggy, indignantly. "Now, the idea, Phil! one thinks of apoor dear horse all over ostrich feathers behind, which is dreadful. Butthen, I don't understand poetry, except about battles, Macaulay andScott. Don't you love 'Marmion'?"

  "Indeed I do!" said Phil, heartily. "Hi!"

  This last brief exclamation was made in a tone of some concern.

  "What is it?" asked Peggy. "Am I trimming wrong?"

  "Right as a trivet! but--have you ever heard of a williwaw, Peggy?"

  "It's a squall, isn't it? Captain Slocum tells about them in 'SailingAlone Round the World.'"

  "That's it! Well, I think we are going to get one. If you will take thehelm again for a moment, I'll take in a reef."

  Peggy took the tiller in her strong little brown hand, and looked onadmiringly while Phil reefed the sail with creditable swiftness. Soonall was tight, and the two young people watched with cheerful interestthe coming on of the squall.

  On it came, a line of white on the water, a gray curtain of drivingrain above it. The wind began to sing in the rigging of the sailboat;next moment she heeled heavily over, and sped along with her lee railunder water.

  "I'd sit pretty well up to windward if I were you," shouted Phil."You'll be dryest on the gunwale, if you don't mind!"

  As Peggy seated herself with alacrity on the gunwale, Phil looked at herwith approval. Her eyes were shining, her whole rosy face alight withhappy excitement.

  "Now, that's the kind of girl I like to see!" said this young gentleman,forgetting that he had been seeing three of the same kind ever since hecould remember; but sisters are different!

  "Not so bad, eh?" he said, as he took another turn on the sheet.

  "Oh, Phil, it is perfectly splendid! why, we are simply flying! Oh, Iwish it was like this all the time."

  "Hi!" said Phil again. "Everybody doesn't seem to be of your opinion,Peggy. That boat over there will be in trouble if she doesn't look out.Sapolio! there is something wrong. We'd better run over and see."

  At a little distance a small boat was tossing violently on the water;her sail was lowered, and a white handkerchief was fluttering from thestern like a signal of distress.

  "Ready about!" said Phil. Peggy crouched down on the seat, the boomswung over, and the gallant little _Petrel_ flew swiftly as her namesaketo the rescue.

  "Anything wrong?" asked Phil, as he ran alongside the crippled boat.

  "Broke our rudder!" was the reply, from a pleasant-looking lad; "musthave been cracked before we started. If you could lend us a pair ofoars--I was very stupid to come out without a pair--"

  At this moment a clear, shrill voice was heard above the noise of windand water, crying aloud, "My Veezy Vee! my Veezy Vee! It _is_ my VeezyVee! Don't tell me it isn't, for it simply _is_!"

  "_Viola!_" cried Peggy. "Vanity! can it be you?"

  "Oh, my dear! I was once, perhaps, but with all my crimps out, how canyou have the heart? If ever I get ashore alive,--"

  "Don't be ridiculous, Viola!" said the lad, in a tone of brotherlytolerance. "You are in no more danger--now--then if you were in bed.Though I admit it might have been rather fussy if we hadn't met you!" headded, with a meaning look at Phil.

  "How far have you to go?" asked Phil. "Buffum's Point? Well, now, lookhere! that will be a long, hard pull against this wind. You'd muchbetter let us tow you down to our camp, and then you can ship a newrudder, and go home any old time when the wind sets right."

  The young man hesitated. "Why--you're awfully good," he said, "but Ithink we'd better get home--"

  "Oh, do, _do_ let us go, Tom!" cried the pretty girl who had waved thehandkerchief, and who seemed still, somehow, to be waving everythingabout her. "No, I won't be quiet! It's my Veezy Vee, I tell you; it'sPeggy Montfort, and I am simply expiring to talk to her. Besides, if Iam going to be drowned, I want to be drowned with another girl. Oh,Peggy, isn't it dreadful? Do you think we shall ever get home alive?"

  Here the wind caught her hat, and in a frantic effort to retain it, shevery nearly fell overboard. "There!" she cried. "I told you so, Tommy; Iknew I should be drowned."

  "I never said you wouldn't," replied her brother, with some heat, "ifyou play such pranks as that. You simply _must_ sit still, Vi!"

  "Oh, it's all very well to say I must sit still, Tommy Vincent. If _you_had a hat that was the pride of your life, instead of a felt saucepan,perhaps you wouldn't want to have it carried off and drowned before youreyes. My precious hatty!"

  "Why, we are all right, Viola," said Peggy. "It is perfectly splendid, Ithink. Besides, the worst of it is past. Look! the sky is lighteningalready; the whole thing will be over soon."

  "But I am drenched to the skin!" cried poor Viola. "The rain has gonethrough and wet my poor bones, I know it has; I shall _never_ be dryagain, I am convinced, never: there isn't a school-book in the world dryenough to dry me, Peggy, not even Hallam's 'Middle Ages.'"

  "Pooh! who cares for a wetting?" said Peggy, shaking herself like aNewfoundland dog. "It only adds to the fun."

  "Oh! that's all very well for you, Veezy Vee!" cried poor Viola. "But if_you_ had on a silk waist, you would feel differently, I know youwould. And my hat simply _was_ the sweetest thing you ever saw; wasn'tit, Tom? Sugar was salt beside it; wasn't it, Tom?"

  Tom, who had been holding a consultation with Phil over the brokenrudder, answered by a brief, though not unfriendly growl, and paid nofurther attention to her. The painter of his boat was made fast to the_Petrel's_ stern, and the latter was soon winging her way toward theCamp, towing the disabled boat behind her.

  "Aren't you Vincent of 1903?" asked Phil, leaning over the stern, hishand on the tiller and one eye on the clouds. "Thought so! Used to seeyou about the yard. My name is Merryweather; 1902."

  "Glad to know you!" said Tom Vincent. "I thought it must be you; I usedto see you rowing, of course. Your brother--"

  He w
as interrupted by excited squeaks from his sister, who was gazing atPhil with sparkling eyes.

  "No!" she cried. "It _can't_ be! It would be _too_ delicious! _not_Merryweather! Don't ask me to believe it, Peggy, for it simply is beyondmy powers. _Not_ the Snowy's brother!"

  "Yes, indeed!" said Peggy, laughing as she, too, leaned back over thestern. "Let me introduce you; Mr. Philip Merryweather, Miss ViolaVincent."

  "Awfully glad!" said Phil, making a motion toward where his hat shouldhave been. "I've often heard my sister speak of you, Miss Vincent."

  "Oh! Mr. Merryweather, I _adore_ the Snowy!" cried Viola. "She is simplythe dearest creature on the face of the earth. I would give the wideworld--I would give my very best frill to see her. Don't tell me she isnear here, for I should expire with joy; simply expire!"

  "I certainly will not," said Phil, smiling, "if the consequences wouldreally be so terrible, Miss Vincent. Otherwise, I might venture topredict that you would see her in about ten minutes. If you feel anyuntoward symptoms developing, please consider it unsaid!"

  "Oh! Tom, isn't it _too_ thrilling?" cried Viola. "Oh! Tom, aren't youperfectly _rigid_ with excitement? It makes Tom rigid, Mr. Merryweather,and it makes me flutter; we are so different. _Aren't_ you rigid,Tommy?"

  "Viola, don't be a goose!" said her brother, good-naturedly. "I am notin the least rigid, though I shall be delighted to see MissMerryweather, of course."

  "You can see the camp now, through the trees," said Phil. "There is theflag, just over that tall pine. Flag by day; lantern by night. That is'Merryweather.' Ready about, Peggy, for the last tack!"

  The squall had passed, and though the water was still rough, the waveswere tossing merrily in blue and white under a brilliant sun. The_Petrel_ sped along, the silver foam bubbling up before her prow, andthe _Seamew_, as the other boat was named, followed as swiftly.

  Peggy leaned back over the stern once more, and holding out her hand toher old schoolmate, gave her slender fingers a squeeze that made her cryout.

  "Dear old Vanity," said Peggy; "I forgot how soft your hands alwayswere. But I am so glad to see you, even if I am not going to expireabout it. Do tell me how you came here, and where you are staying, andall about it, now that we can hear ourselves speak."

  "How did I come here, my dear?" repeated Viola Vincent. "Witchcraft!"

  "What do you mean, you foolish thing?"

  "My dear, what I say; simply that and nothing more, just like the Raven.Witchcraft! The very minute I get home, I am going to get a pointedblack hat and a red cloak, and a crutch-stick. I think they will bequite sweet, don't you? Don't you think pointed hats are quite sweet,Mr. Merryweather?"

  "Pointed hats," replied Phil, gravely, "have always seemed to me theacme of sweetness; that is why they call them sugar-loaf hats, Isuppose."

  "Oh! Mr. Merryweather, you _are_ funny! Oh, I _hoped_ you were going tobe funny," cried Viola; "you _look_ funny, and--"

  "Thank you!" said Phil; and "Viola, don't be a goose!" said her brotheragain.

  "I mean it as a compliment!" cried Viola. "Mr. Merryweather, I mean itas the very highest compliment I can pay, I truly do. With such a simplyentrancing name as Merryweather, it would be such a dreadful pity to besober as a judge, you know; though the only judge I know is too friskyfor anything. Kittens, my dear, I--I mean, Mr. Merryweather--I _beg_your pardon! are actually _grim_ beside Judge Gay; aren't they, Tommy?Did you ever see a grim kitten, Mr. Merryweather? Wouldn't it be toohorrid for anything? Well, but what I meant to say is, the only weeniestspeck of a fault I ever had to find with the Snowy--darling thing!--wasthat she was a little bit--just the tiniest winiest scrap--too serious.If your name were Tombs, you know, or Graves, or Scull,--I knew a girlnamed Scull,--of course you would have to _be_ serious to live up to it;but when your name is Merryweather, you ought to live up to _that_, andso I always told the Snowy."

  "I am sure the Snowy was always jolly enough," said Peggy, bluntly,"except when you wanted to get into mischief, Vanity!"

  "Yes, but I _always_ wanted to get into mischief," replied Viola; "sothat made it a little hard for me, Peggy, you must admit it did,especially when I adored the Snowy, and couldn't bear to have her lookgrave at me. Mr. Merryweather, when the Snowy looked _really_ grave atme, it froze my young blood, just like Hamlet's; didn't it, Peggy? Iused to go and sit on the radiator to get thawed out, didn't I, Peggy?"

  "Oh, of course," said Peggy, laughing. "But all this time, Vanity, wehave not heard about the witchcraft that brought you to this part of theworld."

  "Oh! so you haven't. Well, now you shall. You see I am eighteen thissummer, so Puppa said I should choose where we should go, whether to themountains, or to Newport, or to this lake, where he knew of a camp hecould have. So I thought I would say Newport, on account of my newfrills; I had some perfectly heavenly new frills, and of course Newportis the best place to show them. But just as I was going to _say_'Newport,' _something_ made me turn right round and say to come here. Isupposed it was partly because of course I knew Puppa hated Newport, andhe is such a perfect duck about going there; but now I know that it waswitchcraft, and something inside me, black cats or something, made meknow, without knowing anything about it, that you and the Snowy weregoing to be here, Peggy. So now I am perfectly happy! Oh! Oh! Why, there_is_ the Snowy! Oh, Snowy, you darling! It's me! It's Vanity! How _do_you do? Isn't this _too_ perfectly entrancing for anything!"

  With a graceful turn, Phil brought his boat alongside the wharf, where agroup of campers, Gertrude among them, were gathered to receive them.Gertrude had Viola in her arms in a moment, and was welcoming her with awarmth that made the emotional little creature sob with real pleasureand affection.

  "Oh, Snowy!" she cried, "I always liked you better than any one else,Snowy. I never thought I was going to see you again."

  "My dear, dear little Viola!" cried Gertrude. "Have you dropped from theclouds? Why, this is too good to be true. But you are wet through! Comein this moment with me, and get on dry things!"

  She hurried Viola away to the tents, and Mr. Merryweather tookpossession of her brother with the same hospitable intent, though TomVincent protested that he was "no wetter than was entirely comfortable."

  Phil, taking in his sail, turned an expressive eye on his twin, who hadcome aboard to help him.

  "Gee!" he said, thoughtfully. "A new variety, Obadiah! Pollybirdiasingularis, as Edward Lear hath it."

  "She's mighty pretty!" said Gerald.

  "She is that!" said Phil.