CHAPTER VI
The Tea-Party
When the carriage left the house Mrs. Hardy directed the driver to gothrough one of the pleasant roads leading from the town.
"Which is your favorite drive, Dimple?" she asked.
"Oh, Pleasant Valley and Big Run," answered she. "Don't you think so?"
"I hardly know," said Mrs. Hardy. "I have been around so little; youwill have to be our guide and tell us the pretty places."
Dimple felt quite important, and chatted away at a great rate.
"Didn't Rock make our dolls pretty hats?" she asked. "Mrs. Hardy, I wishhe were my brother. He couldn't be, could he? Even if he could only bemy cousin, I should like it."
Mrs. Hardy looked at Rock, who laughed and said, "That is more likelythan the other."
"I don't see how," said Dimple.
"You will see," said Rock. But at a look from his mother he was silent.
They leaned back on the soft cushions, breathing the sweet air, spicywith the scent of the pines through which they were driving.
At Big Run they all begged to get out, to see if there were any fish inthe water. They clambered about on the bank and over the stones, tillMrs. Hardy told them it was too late to stop longer, and they drovetoward town.
After they had reached the house where Rock and his mother wereboarding, they took off their hats and were ready for tea. They wonderedif they were all to sit with Mrs. Brisk's family at the table, anddreaded it a little. However, when Rock said, "Come this way, girls,"they were a little mystified, for he took them out into the garden.
Under a trellised summerhouse there was set a little table for three,and on the bench a very small table with two little chairs.
"That is for the dolls," explained Rock.
"Oh, Rock!" exclaimed the girls. "Where did they come from? Did you makethem?"
"Yes," said he. "Do you like them?"
"They are perfect," said Florence. "Dimple, do see how nicely Celestinesits up to the table."
"And Rubina, too," said Dimple, as she took off her doll's hat. "Don'tthey look lovely? Look, Rock. What a boy you are."
Rock laughed, and they turned to their own table, which had a tinybouquet by each plate and a pyramid of fruit in the centre.
The long drive had given them all an appetite, and they did full justiceto the croquettes, muffins and fried potatoes before they thought of thejelly, fruit and cake.
"How will we get our chairs and table home?" said Florence.
"I will take them to-morrow," said Rock.
"Oh, no," said Dimple. "It was enough for you to make them, withouttaking them home, too."
"Well," said Rock, "if the cabinetmaker can't take home his own goods, Ithink it is a pity."
The girls laughed, and so the matter rested.
"What shall we do now?" asked Rock. "Will you look at pictures, or playgames, or what?"
Dimple looked at Florence, and Florence looked at Dimple.
"I think pictures are nice in winter, when you can't be out of doors,"said Florence, who never could get enough of out of doors.
So they concluded to play out of doors.
"What nice long grass this is," said Dimple. "We could almost hideourselves. We might play we were rabbits, and hop about and make nests."
"Let's hide ourselves," cried Florence. "I speak for first count.
"'Onery Twoery, Dickery Day, Illava, Lullava, Lackava Lay, One condemn the American line. Umny Bumny, Twenty-nine. Fillason, Folloson, Nicholas John. Queevy, Quavy, English Navy, Signum, Sangnum, Buck!'
"You're out," she sang out to Rock and then went again rapidly over thecount, making herself "It."
Then Dimple and Rock stole softly off to hide themselves, whileFlorence covered her eyes by a tree.
"Whoop!" called Dimple, presently.
"Whoop!" called Rock, a moment later.
And Florence went in search of them, but before she found them, shediscovered something else and called out:
"Rock! Dimple! Come here, quick. I have found something so funny andcunning."
Out of their nests started the children to see Florence standing overanother nest in a trellis, in which was a family of little baby wrens,opening their small beaks and clamoring to be fed.
"Sh! Sh!" Dimple said, softly. "Don't let's scare them, poor littlethings. See, there is the mother bird. She is distressed because we havefound her babies. Oh Rock, don't let any one else know they are here,for they might hurt them."
"Let us go away now," said Rock, in a whisper. "The poor mother bird isflying around, and is so troubled. She doesn't know that we wouldn'tharm her little ones for anything." So they tiptoed away and left themother in possession.
"What kind of bird was it?" Florence asked, in a low voice.
"Why, don't you know? That was Jenny Wren," returned Dimple, moreaccustomed to creatures of woods and fields.
"Was it really Jenny Wren?" exclaimed Florence, delightedly. "I'm soglad I've seen her."
"Didn't you ever see her before? You have heard Mr. Wren sing, haven'tyou? Oh, how he sings! I think house-wrens are such dear, dear birds. Wealways put up boxes and cans and such things for them, for we like tohave them around, and they can build their nests in quite small places.The other big birds try to drive them away sometimes, but we always tryto protect them. Mamma says Jenny Wren is a very neat housekeeper, andtakes excellent care of her family. They are such friendly little birds.I love them better than any others."
"Do you believe you have any wrens' nests near the house, this year?"Florence asked.
"Yes, indeed, ever so many. I know just where to look for them. I'llshow you some to-morrow. There's one in the funniest place. You knowwhere the bamboo shade is rolled up at the side of the front porch:well, in one end of that a wren has built a nest, and mamma will nothave the shade let down till the little birds are ready to fly."
Florence gave a sigh of content. She enjoyed such things so heartily,and saw none of them in her city home.
"I like the robins," put in Rock, "they are such cheerful fellows.Listen to that one whistle. Doesn't it remind you of juicy cherries?"
Dimple laughed. "Yes, and don't they love cherries! I believe they eathalf on our trees, and they always pick out the very finest ones."
"Of course. So would you, if you were a robin," Rock returned. "Speakingof birds, Florence, have you ever watched the swallows--the chimneyswifts--come home? It's a sight."
"No, I never saw them. Are there any here?" returned Florence, eagerly.
"Lots of them. They build in that old chimney, and they come every yearon a certain day of the month. They seem to have a sort of system in theway they circle around, and go down the chimney; just as if they wereregularly drilled for it. It's about time for them now. Suppose we sithere and watch them."
This they did, and when the last belated swallow had dropped down intothe tall old chimney, they went up to the house where Mrs. Hardy waswaiting for them, and where they were glad to listen to her tales ofCalifornia; its big trees, its fine fruits, and the lovely flowers thatgrow wild there; and she told many funny tales of the Chinese, till Mr.Dallas made his appearance, and with regretful good-byes they took theirleave.
All this time the girls had not once remembered Bubbles. They werehaving such a good time, and it was not till they were on their wayhome, when Mr. Dallas questioned them, that they thought of how they hadleft her on the roof.
"Mrs. Hardy is just lovely, mamma," said Dimple, when they reached home."I hope she liked me, for I liked her, and, oh mamma! I am so sorryabout Bubbles."
"I am glad you like Mrs. Hardy," said her mother, "but the next timeBubbles does wrong, I hope you will tell me, and not punish heryourself. You must remember that she is only a little ignorant, coloredgirl, and that it is no wonder she wants what you have, for you haveplayed with her, and been with her so much. Of course it was wrong forher to take anything without leave. Were you and Florence good girls?"
>
"Yes, I think so. Mamma, what did Rock mean when he said he was morelikely to be my cousin than my brother?"
"Did he say that?" said Mrs. Dallas, smiling. "Well, so you are."
"Mamma, I don't understand."
"No. I know you don't. You will in a few days. Now go to bed."
"Florence," said Dimple, after they were in bed. "There is anothersecret somewhere, and I cannot puzzle it out. Mamma wants Mrs. Hardy tobe fond of me, and Rock is likely to be my cousin, and all that."
"I can't imagine," answered Florence, sleepily.
"I don't see into it," said Dimple, after thinking a while. "Florence,are you asleep?"
But Florence made no answer, having by that time arrived in dreamland,and Dimple soon followed her, dreaming that she was feeding the littlewrens on croquettes, and was taking her doll to drive in California,when a big tree came up to her, and insisted on shaking hands, becauseit said it was her cousin. She laughed right out in her sleep, andfrightened a little mouse back into its hole.
* * * * *
When the two little girls ran down to breakfast the next morning, theywore very happy faces, for Dimple had just discovered that her birthdaywas only a week off, and she and Florence had been planning for it.
"Papa always does something very specially nice for me," Dimple had justannounced, "and I always have a lovely birthday-cake with icing andcandles. Mamma makes it herself, because I always think it tastes betterwhen she does. And she lets me choose what we are to have for dinner.You tell what you like best, Florence, and we'll have that."
"I like fried chicken better than anything, except, of course, ice creamand cake."
"So do I. I'm so glad you like what I do, and I'm very glad my birthdayis in June, for it is such a rosy month, and we can have strawberrieswith the ice cream. There are so many good things to eat in June;strawberries, and peas, and asparagus and--oh, I don't know what all."This conversation took place before breakfast, and Dimple was sitting onthe floor hugging her knees, and looking as contented as it was possibleto be.
They were still talking on the important subject when they entered thedining-room.
"What's all this about birthdays?" asked Mr. Dallas, looking up from hismorning paper.
"Why, papa, don't you know my birthday will be next week?" returnedDimple, as she went up to give him his morning kiss. "Aren't you glad?"she added.
"Is it an occasion for great joyfulness? I'm not so sure of that. Don'tyou know it makes mamma feel very serious to have a daughter eight--oris it nine--years old? And as for myself, I begin to feel the grey hairspopping out all over my head at the very thought of it."
"I shall be nine years old. But, papa, you are always making out thatyou are old and that makes me feel sorry. I don't see a single greyhair. People are not very old till they are forty, at least, are they?"
"Well, no, but they are rather decrepit when they reach such extreme oldage as that--Uncle Heath is forty you know, and see what a tottering oldman he is."
"Now, papa, you are laughing at me. I don't believe you'll have greyhairs for years and years."
"They are starting, I am sure. However, we'll change the subject, if youwish. What do you expect me to give you on that festal day? Not anotherdoll, surely?"
"No--I don't know--perhaps."
"Oh, you are insatiable as to dolls. I believe if any one were to giveyou a dozen at Christmas you would be glad to have a dozen more on NewYears. I don't believe Florence is so doll-crazy."
"Yes, she is. Aren't you, Florence?"
Florence nodded.
"Nevertheless," continued Mr. Dallas, "I'll promise no doll this time.Shall it be books? Perhaps we'd better consult mamma. Come to think ofit, I had an idea about this same birthday. It seems to me I thought itwouldn't be a bad plan to provide some amusement for rainy days."
The two little girls looked at each other, and Dimple hung her head.
"What do you think?" Mr. Dallas asked, quizzically. "It seems to me thatI have heard that the rain produces a singularly bad effect upon twolittle girls I know."
"Yes, papa, we were horrid, especially one time. We didn't know what todo, and so--and so----"
"'Satan found some mischief still For idle hands to do;'
was that the way of it?"
Dimple glanced at Florence shamefacedly. "Yes, papa, I'm afraid it wasjust that way," she replied, meekly.
"Well, as I said before, I think it wouldn't be a bad plan to provideagainst such trouble. Perhaps that birthday will show you a way out offuture difficulty."
And so it proved, for on her birthday morning the secret of the littlehouse was revealed.
"You must wait till after breakfast to see your birthday gifts,daughter," Mrs. Dallas said, as Dimple came bounding into the room toreceive her nine kisses.
"Oh, mamma, why? I always have them the first thing. Do tell me wherethey are. Downstairs or up here?"
"Downstairs, in one sense, but they are not in the house at all."
Dimple's eyes opened wide. "Not in the house? Florence, just listen.There is a great secret. Oh, dear, how can I wait?"
"Well, dearie," returned her mother, "the sooner you are dressed thesooner the secret will come. See, I am nearly ready to go down."
"Please help me, just this morning, mamma. It will make it so mucheasier, and it's my birthday, you know."
"Very well, since you are the person of importance to-day, I will helpyou."
"Hurry up, Florence," cried Dimple. "Come in here and I'll fasten yourbuttons while mamma does mine; then we'll get through all the sooner."
Although Dimple, the day before, had carefully selected the day's billof fare, the breakfast was scarcely tasted, her favorite wafflesoffering no inducement for her to linger over them, so great was herexcitement, and she watched eagerly till her father pushed back hischair, and declared himself ready for orders. It seemed to Dimple thathe had never had such an appetite before, and she watched with anxiousinterest as he helped himself to waffles from each plateful that Bubblesbrought in. There was a twinkle in his eyes as Dimple at last heaved along sigh, and he immediately arose and led the way through the gardento the little new house between the house and the stable.
"We'll look in here," he remarked, as he unlocked the door.
Although Dimple had been quite curious to see the inside of the "housefor little chicks," she was rather disappointed at the delay, for shethought, perhaps, her papa had something for her in the stable, a foxterrier, or maybe a goat, since she had expressed a wish for both. Butwhen the door of the little house was opened her surprise was so greatthat she gave expression to one long-drawn "Oh-h!" and looked from oneto the other half bewildered.
For, instead of a brooder and an "inkybator," she saw before her thedearest little room with white curtains at the window, a rug upon thefloor, a small cooking stove in one corner, a table, chairs, and all tosuit a little girl. Upon the shelves were ranged plates, cups, saucersand dishes, and a cupboard in the corner looked as if it might holdother necessary things for housekeeping. Moreover, her family of dollssat along in a row on the window-seat, looking as expectant as is thenature of dolls to look.
"Well, Dot, how do you like it?" asked Mr. Dallas, smiling down at thechild whose color came and went in her fair little face.
"Oh, papa! Oh, papa! is it truly my house?" she asked, clasping himclosely.
"Yes, it is truly yours. I thought a rainy day house might help to keepour little chicks out of mischief, because here they can peep as loud asthey choose and it will not disturb any one."
"You said it was for little chicks, and I never once thought you meantus. Did you, Florence? It is lovely, lovely. Oh, papa, you are toogood."
"I think it is a matter of self-defence, for if you and Florence are soambitious as to take violent possession of your neighbors' houses, itseemed to me there would be no end of complaints, and the best way toprevent further housebreaking was to give you a house where you coul
dcook and sweep and exercise your domestic tastes to your hearts'content."
Dimple understood all this banter, and she laughingly said, "Florence,we are like the birds that try to take the wrens' houses to live in. Butnow we have a nest of our own we won't do it any more, papa. Thank youso much. It is the most lovely surprise I ever had in all my life."
"I'm glad you like your house, Mistress Eleanor Dallas; but, dear me, Ican't stand here chattering. I must be off."
Dimple gave him an ecstatic parting hug, and returned to a survey of herhouse.
"Papa gives you the house, and I the furniture," her mother told her."You must try to keep the place neat and clean. Of course, Bubbles canhelp you, sometimes, but I want you to learn to take care of it yourselfand to be a good housekeeper."
"Like Jenny Wren. Oh, yes, mamma, I will try. Florence, we'll put upboxes for the wrens, up there by the door, and maybe they will come andbuild. Mamma, may we have our ice cream and cake out here thisafternoon?"
"Yes, if you like, and you may go over and ask Rock Hardy to come, andLeila and Eugene Clark too, if you like to have them. That will makequite a nice little party. You can use your own dishes, and have all thefun you choose."
"Won't that be fine!" cried Dimple, softly clapping her hands. "Shall wego now?" she asked.
"Yes, unless you would rather wait."
"No, I'd rather go now, so I won't have to think about it, for I shallnot want to leave my house to-day; it is so dear and cunning. And,Florence, when we come back, we'll gather some flowers and makeeverything look as pretty as possible. Just think, we'll be likegrown-up ladies, with a house, and a servant, and--oh, mamma, please letBubbles wear a cap."
Mrs. Dallas laughed. "I don't believe we will insist upon that, but youcan rig up one for her if you like, when she is out here. Now I must goin."
"Come, Florence, we'll go and invite the company, and get that overwith, and then we'll have nothing to interrupt us the rest of the day,"said Dimple. "Won't it be fine to come out here on rainy days and makeall the noise we want. What time shall we tell the children to come?"she called after her mother, who was just stepping off the little porch.
"At four o'clock, I think."
"That's the time Rock had his tea-party," said Dimple. "I am glad we caninvite him to our feast, because we had such a nice time over there. Iwonder if he knows anything about this being our little house. If hedoesn't, won't he be surprised!"
It proved that Rock didn't know, and he was as interested as any onecould wish;--so much so, indeed, that he begged to go over at once tosee it, and his mother allowed him to do so.
"My! but it's fine," he declared, examining both outside and in. "Youmight have a pretty little garden out here, and plant some vines to growover the porch."
"So we might," Dimple responded, "I never thought of that. It will makethe little porch so much prettier. Just think, I never dreamed that itwas being built for me."
"Your father is awfully good," returned Rock, adding soberly, "I hope itruns in the family."
Dimple laughed, but looked sober herself, immediately after. "I'm afraidI'll never be as good as papa and mamma, for I do horrid things," shesaid. She looked at Florence wistfully, then lifted one of her cousin'ssoft auburn curls, and laid her cheek against it; to which Florenceresponded by giving her a sudden kiss. They both remembered that day inthe garret.
Rock became so interested in the idea of a garden, that, after Mrs.Dallas's consent was gained, he spent most of the day in digging up alittle patch in which the children planted a remarkable collection ofplants, both wild and cultivated. They even put in some corn, so as tohave roasting ears, Dimple said, and a pumpkin seed, because she likedpumpkin pies.
They were so busy all day that they were scarcely willing to go in toprepare for their feast.
Leila and Eugene Clark were properly impressed with the new house; yet,with the others, were quite ready to stop their play that they might dojustice to the big cake with its nine candles, and its wreath offlowers; while the amount of ice cream eaten showed plainly that therefreshments were quite to the taste of the guests. Leila brought Dimplea box of candy, and Eugene presented her with a bunch of beautifulroses. Rock, too, although he hardly could spare the time to rush homeand get his gift for her, had something to donate; an exquisite littlefan with carved ivory sticks, that he said was made in China, and whichhis mother had bought in California. Mrs. Hardy added to the gift adainty pink sash, and Florence had struggled in secret to make Rubina anew frock, and had succeeded very well. So Dimple felt herselfbountifully remembered.
"It's been just the very happiest day I ever had," said the little girlas she stood in her white night gown, ready for bed.
"I ought to be a very, very good girl, mamma; and I have done so manynaughty things lately, but I didn't think."
"Didn't Think is a bad enemy to most little girls," said Mrs. Dallas,holding her daughter's fair head against her shoulder.
"Did _you_ have to fight him?"
"I did, indeed."
"That's a comfort. Perhaps when I grow up, I may be a little weeny,weeny bit like you, darling mamsey. Please give me nine more kisses."
"One on your forehead; one on each cheek; one on each eyelid; onebetween the eyes; one on your chin; one on your mouth, and where shall Iput the other?"
"Here, in the tickley place under my chin. Now say 'my blessed child';that always makes me feel good, and then I'll pop into bed."
But the head was no sooner on the pillow than it was bobbed up again,and there came the whisper, "Mamma, please kiss Florence more than onetime, and call her something nice." And when this was done, two verytired, but very happy, little girls kissed each other, and in a fewmoments were fast asleep.