The Merryweathers

  CHAPTER VIII.

  THE MAIL

  "STILL raining, Phil?" asked Mrs. Merryweather, looking up from herwriting.

  "Still, honored parent! or rather, to be exact, anything but still. Upon the hill, the wind is fierce. I had to ride round the blast once ortwice, instead of going through it. Solid old wind, that!"

  He threw off his dripping oilskin jacket, and came in, unslinging theletter-bag from his shoulder as he came.

  "Letters! letters!" he cried. "Who wants letters?"

  Every one gathered around him, holding out eager hands.

  "One for me, Phil!"

  "For me, Protector of the Poor!"

  "Oh! please, Phil! I want three at least."

  "If there is none for me, Fergy my boy, I shudder at the consequencesfor you!"

  Phil distributed letters and papers; the family subsided on chairs andbenches with their treasures, and for some minutes nothing was heard butthe rustle of paper and the steady downpour of the rain.

  "Oh!" cried Peggy, presently. "Oh--eee! splendid!"

  "Sapolio!" exclaimed Gerald; and "Well! well!" said Mrs. Merryweather.

  The three exclamations were simultaneous, and Bell, who had no letters,raised her hand with an imperative gesture. "Exclamation must befollowed by explanation!" she said. "Law of the Medes and Persians. Weshall be glad to hear from the exclaimers."

  "Who? me? did I?" asked Peggy, looking up with sparkling eyes."Semiramis has eight puppies. Think of it! eight whole puppies!"

  "I never buy more than half a puppy at a time," said Gerald, "unless itis for a veal and ham pie."

  "Gerald!"

  "Well, it's a fact, Mater; I never do. What kind of puppies, thou ofLimavaddy?"

  "Gordon setters, black and tan: oh, she says they are perfect beauties.She says--this is Jean, you know, my sister--'they are all like Semmyexcept one, and he is _blue_.' Who ever heard of a blue puppy? You shallhave one, Snowy: I promised you one, don't you remember? oh--eee! andthe new colt is a perfect beauty too, and they have named her Peggy.Oh!"

  Peggy looked down at her letter, then looked up again shyly. "I--don'tsuppose you would care to hear any of it?" she said, interrogatively.

  "Indeed we should!" said Mrs. Merryweather, heartily. "We should like itextremely, Peggy. A letter from the Far West; why, it will be a journeyfor all of us."

  "Great!" said Phil.

  "Corking!" said Gerald. And one and all, in their several ways,expressed their desire to hear the letter.

  Dimpling with pleasure, her rosy face beaming, Peggy began to read.

  "'Dear old'--oh, well, I won't read just the beginning, because it isjust the way we talk to each other, you know. I wish you knew Jean,Snowy. Let me see! oh, yes, here it is.

  "'This is eight birthdays all at once, for what do you think, Peggy?this morning we missed Semmy at breakfast, and could not find heranywhere. There were kidneys, and you know she always finishes the dishoff, because she is so fond of them. Well, and so I went to look forher, and she wasn't in her box, or in the shed, or behind the kitchenstove, or anywhere where she usually is. So I went out to the stable,and there I heard little squeaks and squeals, the funniest you everheard, and then a growl in Semmy's voice as I opened the door. Then thedear thing heard my step, and was ashamed of growling, and beganthumping her tail on the floor till I should have thought she wouldbreak it. And there she was, all cuddled down in a pile of hay, and thedear little darling things all cuddled round her. I never saw anythingso perfectly dear! they were all blind, and bald all over, and pink, andsquealing like anything; you never _did_ see anything so lovely in allyour life, at least I never did. Well, she let me take them up, one byone, old darling, though I could see that it made her nervous. Most ofthem are like her, beautifully marked, with pink noses, and black ears,and just the right blackness and tanness on them; but one is very queer,great splotches of black on his nose and his hind quarters, and all therest of him white. So they named him "Magpie," right off; but I haven'tcome to the names yet. He is not very pretty, but he looks _very_bright, and I shouldn't wonder if he was terribly clever, to make up fornot being so handsome as the others. And the other different one is aperfect beauty, though you may not think so when I tell you that he is_blue_. Yes, truly blue; of course I don't mean sky blue, nor navy, butthe black is all mixed in through the white,--I can't explain to youjust how it is--but anyhow, at a little distance, he does truly andhonestly look blue. Well, so--I was the first to find them, so Fathersaid I might name them, but of course I wanted us all to do it together;so we all thought, and each made a list. Oh, Peggy, we did want you; andI wanted to wait till you could send your list too, but the othersthought you would not mind, and it is nicer to have them named quickly,because then their names seem to belong to them more, and they looklike them. Perhaps, I mean, if you had been called something else tillyou were two or three years old, you might not have been so just exactlyPeggy as you are, you dear old thing.'

  "Perhaps I ought not to have read that," said Peggy, looking up with ablush; "but it is as like Jean as I am like Peggy, if I am like it,whatever it is."

  "You certainly are like 'it,'" said Gertrude, laughing, "and 'it'certainly is a dear old thing. Go on, please. We are all longing to hearthe list."

  Peggy threw her a kiss, and went on.

  "'I will not give you all the lists, for that would take up all the restof my letter; but here is the one we finally made out. There are threefemales, and five males, you know: _Cleopatra_, _Meg_ (Merrilies; thatwas Flora's, because she is just reading "Guy Mannering"), _Diana_,_Guy_ (for the same reason), _Shot_, _Hector_, _Ajax_, and _Magpie_.'

  "Well, I do think that is a queer list," Peggy concluded, folding up theletter. "I wish they had called one 'Gray Brother,' or 'Bagheera.'"

  "But they are not wolves or panthers," objected Mr. Merryweather. "Ishould say that was a very fair list of names, Peggy, as names go. It isalways hard to find a good name for a dog. 'Shot' is an excellent name.We had a good old dog named Shot, and I have always liked the name."

  "Mammy," said Bell, "are we not to hear something from you?"

  "From me, my dear?" repeated Mrs. Merryweather. "What would you like tohear?"

  "I should think you were an amiable gramophone," replied her daughter,with affectionate disrespect. "And I _think_ you really know what Imean, madam, in spite of that innocent look. On reading your letters,you and Jerry exclaimed: 'Well, well!' and 'Sapolio!' at the sameinstant, and your letters are on the same kind of paper, I cannot helpseeing that. Have you something to break to us? 'Sapolio' is a balefulutterance, delivered as Jerry delivered it just now."

  "Gee! I should think it was!" muttered Gerald, gloomily. He hadbrightened up while Peggy was reading her letter, but now his usuallybright face was clouded with unmistakable vexation.

  "Oh!" said Mrs. Merryweather, with what seemed a rather elaboratelycheerful expression. "My letter? It is from Cousin Anna Belleville. Shetells me that Claud has been with her at Bar Harbor for some time, andthat he is coming to visit us on his way back. He will be here some daynext week, she thinks."

  A certain pensiveness stole over the aspect of the Merryweathers. Belland Gertrude exchanged a swift glance, but said nothing. Geraldwhistled, "Wrap me up in my tarpaulin jacket!"

  After a brief silence, Mr. Merryweather said, thoughtfully, "I wasthinking of taking the boys off on a camping trip next week."

  "You cannot, Miles," said his wife, quickly. "It is out of thequestion."

  "Oh, certainly," said Mr. Merryweather. "I only--a--quite so!"

  He relapsed into inarticulate murmurs over his pipe. Mrs. Merryweather,after a reproachful glance at him, turned to Gerald, as she folded herletter. "You have a letter from Claud, Gerald?" she asked, cheerfully.

  "I have, madam," said Gerald, with a brow of thunder. "He informs methat he is looking forward with the greatest pleasure to roughing it abit with us, and says that we must make no preparations, but let himtake things just as they are. He's a
Christian soul, that's what he is."

  "What is to be the order of the evening?" asked Mrs. Merryweather,addressing Bell with a shade of warning in her voice. "Are we to havegames, or boat-building?"

  "Oh! boat-building! the regatta is to-morrow, and we are not halfready."

  There was a general rush toward cupboards and lockers, and in anincredibly short space of time the whole room was a pleasant litter ofchips, shingles, and brown paper. The rules for the regattas atMerryweather were few and simple. All boats must be built by theirowners, unaided; no boat must be over a foot long from stem to stern;all sails must be of paper. Aside from these limitations, the fancies ofthe campers might roam at will; accordingly, the boats were of everyshape and description, from Kitty's shingle, ballasted with pebbles, toPhil's elaborate catamaran. Peggy was struggling with a stout andsomewhat "nubbly" piece of wood, which was slowly shaping itself underthe vigorous strokes of her jack-knife.

  "She's coming on!" Peggy declared, cheerfully. "She really begins tolook quite like a boat now, doesn't she, Mr. Merryweather?"

  "Certainly!" the Chief assented. "I don't see why she should not make avery good boat, Peggy. I would round off her stern a bit, if I were you.So! that's better."

  "What is her name, Peggy?" inquired Mrs. Merryweather. "I must beentering the names in the Log."

  "The _Lovely Peggy_, of course!" said Phil. "What else should it be?"

  "It might be the _Limavaddy_!" said Gerald.

  "Gerald, I _wish_ you would tell me what you mean by 'Limavaddy,'" saidPeggy. "It sounds like--I don't know what; tea-caddy, or something likethat. Mrs. Merryweather, won't you tell me what it means?"

  "It is a compliment he is paying you, Peggy," said her hostess, smiling."Peg of Limavaddy is the charming heroine of a charming ballad ofThackeray's.

  "'This I do declare, Happy is the laddy Who the heart can share Of Peg of Limavaddy. Married if she were, Blest would be the daddy Of the children fair Of Peg of Limavaddy. Beauty is not rare In the land of Paddy, Fair beyond compare Is Peg of Limavaddy.'

  That is not one of the prettiest stanzas, but it shows you why Geraldhas nicknamed you."

  "I say with Captain Corcoran," Gerald observed, pausing in the criticaladjustment of a sail:

  "'Though I'm anything but clever, I could talk like that forever.'

  As thus!

  "When she makes the tea, Brews it from a caddy, Who so blithe as she, Peg of Limavaddy?

  "See her o'er the stove, Broiling of a haddie; Thus she won my love, Peg of Limavaddy.

  "But building of a boat, Her success is shady; Bet you she won't float, Peg of Limavaddy!"

  "Wait till to-morrow," cried Peggy, laughing, "and you'll see whethershe floats or not. And anyhow, she is my first boat. Isn't there aspecial class for beginners, Mr. Merryweather?"

  "No, no! no fear or favor shown; the rigor of the game, little Peggy.Margaret, have you given up?"

  "Oh, yes, please, Mr. Merryweather!" said Margaret, looking up from herknitting with a smile. "I could not; it simply was not possible. Geraldwas positive at first that he could teach me, but after one lesson hewas equally positive that he could not. I needed no conviction, becauseI knew I could not."

  "Nobody can do absolutely everything," said Gerald, "except theCodger,--I allude to my revered uncle, Margaret,--and I have at timesdesired to drown him for that qualification. You shall be the starter,Margaret; you'll do that to perfection."

  "What are the duties of a starter?" asked Margaret; "I shall be veryglad to do anything I really can."

  "To sit still and look pretty!" said Gerald, demurely. "I _think_ youcan manage it."

  "Have I the full list?" asked Mrs. Merryweather. "I'll read it aloud.

  "The _Principal Whale_,--Papa."

  "I wish you would not call my father names!" murmured Gerald.

  "Jerry, do be still!

  "The _Tintinnabula_, Bell.

  "The _Jollycumpop_, Gertrude.

  "The _Come-at-a-Body_, Gerald.

  "The _Molasses Cooky_, Phil.

  "The _Polly Cologne_, Kitty.

  "The _Whopper_, Willy."

  "Is that all?"

  "All but Peggy's," said Gertrude. "Peggy, you must decide on the name ofyour boat."

  "Oh! Gertrude, that is the hardest part of all. Margaret, you must nameher for me."

  "Why not _Semiramis_, after the happy mother of the puppies?" suggestedMargaret.

  "The whole puppies!" echoed Gerald. "Don't half name them, Margaret!"

  "Why isn't that the name for the boat?" cried Phil.

  "It is! it is!" cried all the rest. "The _Whole Puppy_, it is!" AndPeggy laughing, submitted.

  "I never _was_ so teased in all my life!" she said; "but I feel it doingme good."

  "That is our one object, my charming child!" said Gerald, gravely. "Weinvited you here in the hope that our united efforts might counteractthe pernicious influences of Fernley House."

  "Nobody will ever explain to me what a Come-at-a-Body is!" saidMargaret. "Whenever I ask, you all say, 'Oh, hush! it might come!' Mrs.Merryweather, won't you tell me?"

  "I will read you the description of it in the Log," said Mrs.Merryweather, smiling; "that is the best I can do for you."

  She turned over the pages of the book that lay open in her lap. "Here itis!" she said. "Now mark and learn, Margaret.

  "'The Come-at-a-Body is found only in its native habitat, where it maybe observed at the proper season, indulging in the peculiar actions thatcharacterize it. It has more arms than legs, and more hair than either.It moves with great rapidity, its gait being something between a wallopand a waddle; and as it comes (one of its peculiarities is that italways comes, and never goes), it utters loud screams, and gnashes itsteeth in time with its movements.'

  "Now, my dear, you know all that I do!" Mrs. Merryweather concluded witha candid smile.

  "Thank you so much!" said Margaret, laughing. "I am certainlyenlightened."

  At this moment Phil, who was sitting near the door, laid down his work,and held up a warning hand. "Hark!" he said. "What is that?"

  "Only the wind!" said some one.

  "Or the car rattling o'er the stony street!" said another.

  "No!" said Phil. "I heard a voice, I am sure. Listen!"

  All were silent. Outside the rain was pouring, the wind wailing in longsighing gusts; but--yes! mingling with the wind, a voice was certainlycalling:

  "Hallo! hallo, there! Merryweather!"

  Gerald sprang to his feet, and struck his twin brother on the shoulder."The Philistines are upon thee, Samson!" he cried. "I should know thatvoice in the shock of spears: it is Claud Belleville!"