CHAPTER II.
ENTER THE TUCKERS.
Two girls about my age and a youngish man were the arrivals. The girlswere dressed in blue serge, and I felt in my bones that they were goingto Gresham. They had an independent, easy way with them, and evidentlyconsidered the youngish man a person whom they had a right to boss.
"Let's sit here, Zebedee, and you go get the milk chocolate for me,"exclaimed one of the girls.
"Don't forget my salted peanuts and a copy of 'Life,'" called the other,as Zebedee hurried off to make the purchases at the newsstand in acorner of the waiting room.
"Elder brother," thought I, "and pretty good-natured to wait on thosegirls so much." What nice looking girls they were, though. At the firstglance, they looked singularly alike, but as I examined them moreclosely while Zebedee was gone, I saw points of dissimilarity. "They aretwins, for sure," I said to myself, "but I believe I am going to be ableto tell them apart." The one whom her sister called Dum had red lightsin her almost black hair and her eyes were hazel, while the one whoanswered to the name of Dee had blue lights in her coal black hair andher eyes were gray. Both of them had sharply defined brows, straightnoses, and broad, laughing mouths. Dum's chin was square and determined,but in Dee's there lurked a dimple. They were exactly the same heightand both of them had fine athletic figures.
"There you are, Tweedles," said the youngish man, addressing them bothas he pitched his purchases into their laps. "Who's going to wait on youat boarding school, I'd like to know?"
"Well, if you will make us have a roommate, I reckon she'll have to,"laughed Dee.
"By the way, Zebedee, that is something I want to discuss with you," andDum squared her chin. "You make a great mistake in forcing a roommateon Dee and me. We are not used to it, and we are not going to stand it."
Zebedee squared his chin, too, and his blue eyes took on a sternexpression. "Not going to stand it, eh? Well, I say you are going tostand it. We have discussed the matter threadbare already, and you musttrust me to know what is best for you sometimes."
The stern light went out of his eyes and into them came a look ofinfinite tenderness as he put an arm around Dum and held her close tohim. I certainly liked the looks of Zebedee, but what a name! He, too,had an athletic figure, but not very tall, not much taller than thegirls, who were very well grown for fifteen. He had Dum's red blackhair, also her square chin, but Dee's dimple had found a place in themiddle of that determined chin. The three mouths were so alike that theymight have belonged to triplets, but his eyes were his own; ice bluethey were in color but there was nothing cold about them. They were thekindest, merriest eyes; they seemed to see everything and feeleverything. Just now they were feeling very sorry for Dum, and as hehugged her, big tears gathered in them.
"Oh, Dum," exclaimed Dee, "now you have made him cry!"
"No such thing. I'm not crying," and he shamelessly blew his nose.
I afterwards learned that one of the characteristics of this delightfultrio was that they thought there was no more shame in crying thanlaughing. They laughed in church if there was anything to laugh at, andcried at a picnic or farce-comedy if anything turned up to move them totears. "We don't bawl," Dee said to me once, "we just leak. It is all amatter of tear ducts. We can't help it any more than you could helpsneezing if someone shook pepper in your face."
A train was called. It was not ours, but "Orphan Annie" jumped nervouslyfrom her seat. She dropped her shabby little hand-bag, which she hadjust opened for the hundredth time to make sure her ticket was safe orto compare her Ingersoll watch with the clock in the station, and thecontents of the bag rolled to the floor. I dived to assist her and theperson called Zebedee did the same. Of course we bumped heads, and whilewe were apologizing, Dum and Dee picked up the scattered belongings andreturned them to the poor, abashed girl.
"I just knew you were going to Gresham," said Dee, handing her themuch-thumbed ticket, "and wondered how long it would take us to get tothe point of speaking to you."
"You are for Gresham, too," said Dum, turning to me. "I have beenlonging to know you. I might have known that old Zebedee would end bybutting in."
Here Zebedee took off his hat and bowed to "Orphan Annie" and me asthough we were of the blood royal, and said with a most engaging manner:
"We had best introduce ourselves and then all the conventionalities willbe observed. Conventionality is a mighty important thing for boardingschool girls to observe. These are the Tucker twins, called Tweedleswhen you want both of them or aren't particular which one answers. Thisred-headed one is Dum; this blue-headed one, Dee. They have otherofficial names, but somehow I can't remember them to-day. I am JeffryTucker, at your service, the father of the Heavenly Twins."
"Father! You, their father!" I gasped.
"Certainly. Whose father did you think I was?"
"James' and John's," I answered flippantly.
"That's the reason we called him Zebedee," chorused the twins. "You knowthe old gag: 'Who is the father of Zebedee's children?' No one everbelieves he is really a parent."
I burst out laughing and so did "Orphan Annie." I was certainly glad tosee that she could laugh. Already the genial atmosphere that surroundedthe Tuckers had had its effect on her. The drawn expression was leavingher countenance and the hearty laugh dispelled the mist in her eyes. Theknowledge that there were two other passengers for Gresham set her mindat rest, and she evidently felt relieved.
"My name is Page Allison."
"Daughter of Dr. James Allison of Milton, I bet anything," ventured Mr.Tucker. "Oh, do you know my father?" I asked joyfully.
"Of course I do. We are of the same fraternity. Your eyes are so likehis, I came mighty near slipping you the grip. He was in the class of'85 and I was in that of '99, but we have met at many fraternityconventions. I am certainly glad to know his daughter." And while he didnot give me the fraternity grip, he gave me some kind of a grip thattingled all the way up to my heart.
"And won't you tell us your name?" said Dee kindly to the otherstranger.
"Annie Pore," said the girl in a voice singularly full and rich. "I havenever been anywhere alone and I am so afraid I'll miss my train. That isthe reason I dropped my bag. I am so much obliged to all of you forpicking up my things."
Her timidity seemed to disappear as she realized she was making friends.As for me, I have never known what it was to be timid, and I felt athome with the three Tuckers from the moment they entered the waitingroom; and from the time that Mr. Tucker and I bumped heads, I countedthem as the first three on the list of the million friends that CousinSue said I must make.
"Well, since we are all going to Gresham, suppose you young ladies handover your tickets to me and I will be courier for the crowd," said Mr.Tucker.
I gave him my ticket, also my reservation in the parlor car. It made nodifference how poor payments were, Father and I always traveled incomfort. "It saves in the end to ride in a clean, comfortable coach,"Father declared. "Saves wear and tear on clothes and nerves."
Annie Pore handed him her rumpled ticket.
"This is all you have?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, isn't that all right?" she entreated. "The man at the ticketwindow assured me it was right."
"Of course it is all right. Now there are five minutes before the trainwill be called, so if you young ladies will excuse me, I'll rundownstairs to see that Tweedles' trunks are safe. By the way, have youattended to your luggage?" he asked me. "And you?" turning to AnniePore.
"Thank you, yes," I answered; but the other girl looked piteously at herbursting telescope. "I haven't a trunk," she said simply.
I felt mighty sorry for Annie. The Tucker twins did, too. I could tellby their eyes. Dee's filled and Dum turned and walked to the steps withher father.
Dee whispered to me as she pretended to show me a picture in "Life":
"He's gone to get her a ticket in the parlor car. Just like him! Such athoughtful Zebedee as he is! We mustn't let him know we are on. Thatwould make him raging.
He will carry it off perfectly naturally, and heis fully capable of any deceit to keep Annie Pore from finding it out."
He had done exactly as Dee said he would do: got a chair in the parlorcar for "Orphan Annie." Right there I took myself to task for thinkingof the poor girl as "Orphan Annie," and I determined to control mythoughts if possible and give her her proper name in my mind. Not thatAnnie Pore sounded much more cheerful than the name I had given her.
Our train was called and our kind courier bundled up bag and baggage andhustled us through the gates and into the chair car before Annie Porehad time to ask about it; and then he gave the Pullman conductor ourtickets and settled us and the train started, and the girl never didknow she was being treated to a privilege her ticket did not give her.
We had a jolly trip and before it was over I knew a great deal about theTuckers, and they, in turn, a great deal about me, in fact, about allthere was to know. It was many a day, however, before we broke throughAnnie Pore's reserve and learned that she was of English parentage, thather mother had recently died and her father had a country store in alonesome little settlement on the river. No wonder the girl was soscary. This was actually her first railroad journey. What traveling shehad done had been by boat, an occasional trip to Norfolk or Richmondwhen her father went to town to buy his stock.
There was an unmistakable air of breeding about her. Her accent was pureand her English without flaw. In spite of her timidity, she had acertain _savoir faire_. For instance, when Mr. Tucker announced that wewere to have lunch with him and ordered the porter to bring two tablesand put them up, Annie accepted the invitation with a quiet grace thatmany a society woman could not have equaled. When she took off her uglyhat, disclosing to view a calm white forehead with heavy, ripe-wheathair rippling from a part, I had no doubt of the fact that Annie Pore,if not already a beauty, was going to be one when she grew up.
It was only a buffet luncheon and there was not much on the menu tochoose from: baked beans, canned soup, potted meats, etc.
"Not much to eat here," grumbled Mr. Tucker.
"Eat what's put before you, Zebedee, and stop grouching," admonishedDum.
"Well, it's a pretty hard state of affairs when a fellow wants to give aparty and there is nothing to eat but these canned abominations."
"I have a lunch box in my grip," I ventured; "maybe that would help outsome."
"Trot it out, do!" cried Dee.
And then Annie had the hardihood to untie the rope around her telescopeand bring out a bag of the very best and rosiest wine-sap apples I evertasted. She also produced a box of doughnuts she had made herself whichwere greeted with enthusiasm. My lunch had been put up by kind old MammySusan, and in her tenderness she had packed in enough to feed aregiment.
"Fried chicken!" exclaimed Dee, clapping her hands.
"Columbus eggs!" shouted Dum.
"Not really country ham?" questioned Mr. Tucker. "That is too good to betrue. You must excuse Tweedles and me, but we have been living in anapartment and eating in the cafe, and some real home food has just aboutgot us going. When I asked you young ladies to lunch, I did not dreamthat I would be able to treat you so royally."
"Look, Zebedee, look! Clover-leaf rolls!" chorused the twins.
"Stop tweedling and look over the menu and see what we shall order tosupplement with." Mr. Tucker called it tweedling when the girls spokein chorus as was their habit.
We decided on cream of tomato soup, iced tea and butter, with Neopolitanice cream to top off with. I was certainly glad that, as usual, MammySusan had paid no attention to my commands, and had done her own sweetwill in giving me enough lunch for half a dozen girls.
"It's bes' to err on de side er plenty, honey baby," the old woman hadsaid when I demurred at the size of the lunch boxes. "Even ef you isgoin' to a land flowin' wif milk an' honey, a few rolls to sop in dehoney won't go amiss an' some chicken an' ham to wash down wif de milkwon't hurt none."