CHAPTER XI
CHRISTOPHER GOES FOR THE MAIL
When Mrs. Hartwell-Jones and Letty drove away from Sunnycrest in thepony carriage, amid a general waving of pocket handkerchiefs and shoutsof farewell, everybody looked at everybody else rather blankly, as ifsomething had happened and nobody was quite sure just what it was.
“Mrs. Hartwell-Jones said that we had done so much to brighten herlife,” grandmother told grandfather, when they were talking it all overon the veranda that afternoon. “But it seems to be the other way on. Itis she who has done us all good. We shall all miss her and Letty, eachfor different reasons. I enjoyed my talks with Mrs. Hartwell-Jones andthe children were perfectly happy with Letty.”
“We shall all of us miss Letty,” agreed grandfather.
“Yes, Jane is disconsolate and Huldah declares that her cake will neverbe so good again.”
It really was wonderful how quickly Letty had filled a place in thesimple home life, and how happy she had been. No word or look had everreminded her that she was a poor little outcast; every one had welcomedher with loving kindness.
“Grandmother,” Jane had said one evening when she was saying herprayers, very soon after Letty’s arrival, “I think Letty must be ‘oursister in heaven.’ You know the Bible says that everybody is brother andsister in heaven and that is what Letty must be to us.” And as such Janehad taken her into her loving child’s heart.
Letty was sorry to leave Sunnycrest; it was so lovely, so quiet andpeaceful. But she loved and admired Mrs. Hartwell-Jones so extremelythat she would have been glad to go anywhere with her. There werelessons to be studied every day, to prepare for the glorious prospect ofschool in the autumn, and little drives to take about the countryside.Then it was understood, before Mrs. Hartwell-Jones left Sunnycrest, thatthe twins were to come into the village nearly every afternoon for atea-party, and grandmother was to come with them as often as she could.
And the very next day after Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s departure, Janeproposed a visit. Grandmother thought it too soon, but Jane andChristopher were urgent.
“I think we ought to go, to see if Mrs. Hartwell-Jones got home allright and how her lame foot is,” remarked Jane in a grown-up tone.“Don’t you think it would be polite, grandmother?”
“And maybe she’ll have some jolly little apple turnovers, like she gaveus once,” added Christopher.
So grandmother gave her consent; Joshua brought round the comfortablebig carryall and grandmother and the twins got in, Jane carrying Sally,dressed in her best. Christopher got on the front seat with Joshua, todiscuss the prospect of Jo Perkins being allowed enough time off to jointhe baseball nine. Christopher had counted on seeing Billy Carpenter inthe village. Billy lived next door to Mr. Parsons, but he was nowhere tobe seen, nor answered Christopher’s shrill whistle.
“I’m going on up to the post-office with Josh,” said Christopher as hisgrandmother and Jane descended. “I’ll be back before you get started onthe party.”
“You will have to walk back, Kit,” replied his grandmother. “Joshua isgoing to have the horses shod.”
“Oh, I don’t mind a little walk like that,” answered Christopherloftily. “Besides, if Bill’s there he’ll probably give me a lift back onthe step of his bicycle.”
Christopher thought it likely that Billy Carpenter was at thepost-office helping his father with the letters, and that by going onthere he would not only see his chum but would miss all the “how do youdo’s” and small talk at Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s, arriving in time for thereal pleasure of the occasion—the tea-party.
Jane stood still a moment at the gate and watched the carriage drive offa bit regretfully. She knew that Christopher wanted to see BillyCarpenter and she felt a little forlorn.
“We won’t have the party until you get back, Kit,” she called after him.Then she turned to her grandmother, her lip quivering a little. “Do yousuppose Kit likes that Carpenter boy better than me, grandmother?”
“Of course not, Janey, dear, but—boys will be boys, you know, and girlsgirls.”
“But Kit didn’t use to care for boys.”
“Well, he’s getting older,” replied grandmother vaguely.
Mrs. Hartwell-Jones must have been expecting company, for little AnnaParsons ran out of the front door to meet them, and led them around thecorner of the house, where a wide, shady expanse of velvety lawn invitedrest. Mrs. Hartwell-Jones sat in an easy chair placed on a rug, andother chairs were grouped nearby, while the sight of a low,white-covered table would have done Christopher’s heart good, it was soloaded down with goodies.
“Where is Kit?” was Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s first question, echoed byLetty.
Grandmother explained that he had gone for the mail and would be backdirectly. Then she sat down beside Mrs. Hartwell-Jones and discussed thequestion of boys in general and Kit in particular, while Letty told thestory of “Thistledown” over again for Anna Parsons’ benefit, thechildren taking frequent peeps at Mrs. Hartwell-Jones in the meantimeand wondering how she could have thought it all out. After which shetold parts of “Prince Pietro,” a story she and her little neighbor EmmaHaines had been very fond of, and she wondered if Mrs. Hartwell-Joneshad written that, too.
In the meanwhile Christopher drove merrily on with Joshua to thepost-office, at the other end of the village, his tongue wagging at itsusual nimble rate. As they reached the post-office he gave a suddenshrill whistle that made Joshua put his hand over the ear nearest toChristopher’s mouth.
“For the land’s sake!” he exclaimed. “Do you want to make me plumb deaf,boy?”
An answering whistle, followed by a whoop, sounded from inside thebuilding and Billy Carpenter darted out.
“Hi, Bill, bring the mail with you,” called Joshua. “Here you, Kit, yougo in and get it, and get Mrs. Hartwell-Jones’s too. You might as welltake hers to her, as you’re going right back there.”
“Not right back,” objected Christopher, scrambling down over the frontwheel.
“Yes, right back,” repeated Joshua sternly, as the horses started to goon. “Mind you go directly back to your grandma and the girls,” he calledover his shoulder, right into the listening ear of Billy Carpenter.
“Huh!” jeered that youth, “here comes the boy that’s tied to a girl’sapron-strings! Howdy, Miss Kitty.”
Christopher was ready to cry with mortification, but his pride held himsteady.
“They’re going to have a tea-party at the author-lady’s, and they’rewaitin’ for me,” he announced grandly. “You know in the city we fellowshave to be polite to the ladies.”
“We’re polite to the ladies too,” answered Billy sullenly. It alwaysmade him angry when Christopher made remarks which suggested that cityways were superior to those of the country.
“Oh, I dare say you are,” admitted Christopher graciously, “but it’sdifferent in the city, you know. Say, are you going home? Let’s walkback together. Wait till I get the mail and I’ll treat to sour balls.”
In addition to his light duties as postmaster of the little village, Mr.Carpenter sold knitting worsted and sweeties kept in glass jars.Christopher, with the manner of a millionaire, pulled the last five-centpiece of his week’s “’lowance” out of his pocket, handed it over thecounter and received in return ten large, semi-transparent yellow sugarballs, striped in red, and done up in a paper bag.
“Here’s another of those pesky special delivery letters for theauthor-lady at Mr. Parsons’, Bill,” said Mr. Carpenter as he handed outa thick budget; “you’d better take it along with the others. Now runalong, both of you, for I’m busy.”
“The author-lady must be awful rich, by the way she spends money onpostage stamps,” observed Billy, as the boys strolled along the villagestreet, each with one of the big red and yellow balls of sweet stufftucked comfortably in his cheek. “She buys dad out sometimes. And shegets stacks and stacks of letters. I wonder what they’re all about?”
He surveyed the bundle he carried wit
h a good deal of curiosity.
“Oh, people who write books always get lots of letters; from magazineeditors, asking for stories and all that sort of thing,” repliedChristopher airily. “And they pay big prices for stories, so of courseMrs. Hartwell-Jones is rich. Say, Letty was telling us a story the otherday—it was an awfully hot day and there wasn’t anything else to do so Ilay on the grass and couldn’t help hearing what the girls were talkingabout—well, Letty told this story that she had read once years before atschool and what do you suppose? Mrs. Hartwell-Jones had written it. Shehollered down to us about it out of her bedroom window when Letty’d gotthrough. Funny, wasn’t it? And she said she’d write another story sometime, just for the girls. They were immensely tickled.”
“You have pretty good times, don’t you?” said Billy enviously. “I guessyou won’t care to play with us boys much.”
“Oh, yes, I do,” exclaimed Christopher hastily. “I’ve got a fine schemethat I wanted to talk to you about to-day. Let’s you and Perk and me gooff on a lark some time together. We’ll go into the woods.Grandmother’ll give us a lunch and we’ll build a fire to cook potatoes.Maybe we can catch some fish to fry.”
“Oh, say, that would be great!” exclaimed Billy enthusiastically. “Let’sgo to-morrow!”
“Well, I don’t know about to-morrow. I was going to ask grandfather tolet us have a horse and wagon, and we’ll have to wait till one can bespared from the farm work. But we’ll go soon.”
“Can you swim?” asked Billy suddenly.
“No, not exactly,” confessed Christopher reluctantly. “I had somelessons at a swimming school in town, but somehow I couldn’t seem to getjust the hang of it by myself.”
“Oh, well, if you’ve got a start Perk an’ I’ll soon teach you,” Billypromised patronizingly. “I know of a bully swimming hole, safe asanything.”
“I don’t know whether grandfather would let me go in swimming,” saidChristopher slowly, feeling that the expedition was growing more seriousthan he had intended. Yet he found it unbearable to have Billy think himlacking in any manly sport. “But if it’s a perfectly safe place I guesshe’ll say——”
“Oh, pshaw, what do you want to tell him for? I guess your grandfatherdoesn’t want you to be a sissy-boy, does he?”
“Of course not!” answered Christopher indignantly.
“Well, then, he must want you to learn to swim. If you should just gohome some fine afternoon and say, ‘Gran’pa, I know how to swim,’ why,he’d be as pleased as—as a pup.”
“But I do know how—almost—already,” boasted Christopher.
They discussed the new plan with great gusto. Billy was for making ahuge mystery out of it all, like the meeting of some secret society. Heproposed smuggling a luncheon out of the Carpenter and Baker pantriesand to keep the spot they were to visit a secret. But Christopher didnot see the charm of this. He preferred to tell straight out that thethree boys wished to go on a picnic. He knew that he would have a muchbetter time if he “had it out” plainly with Jane, instead of slippingaway from her, and that Huldah would certainly put up a much betterlunch—if she were asked politely—than he and Billy could ever gettogether by stealth. The swimming was the only part of the programme hedid not care to discuss openly.
“Well, we’ll do it as soon as we can,” he concluded, as they reached Mr.Parsons’ gate. “I’ll send you word by Perk when he comes in for themail, or mebbe you’d better ride out to the farm on your bike and we’lltalk it over.”
“All right,” replied Billy, lingering a moment as Christopher walked upthe path. “I can go any time. I don’t have to scheme to get away fromthe girls.”
With which parting thrust he vaulted the fence into his own garden. Hewould have liked to be invited to the tea-party, too, but Christophernever dreamed of suggesting such a thing. He believed that Billy waslaughing at him for joining the girls and his cheeks grew very red. Hestopped and for a moment was tempted to turn back and sit on the fencewith Bill, and talk of swimming, baseball and other manly topics untilhis grandmother was ready to go home. But just then he looked around—hehad reached the corner of the house—and caught sight of thewhite-covered table, loaded with goodies. He went on.