CHAPTER XV
Without another moment's delay Gwendolyn and her father set forth,traveling a road that stretched forward beside the stream of soda,winding as the stream wound, to the music of the fuming water--musicwith a bass of deep pool-notes.
How sweet it all was! Underfoot the dirt was cool. It yielded itselfdeliciously to Gwendolyn's bare tread. Overhead, shading the way, weregreen boughs, close-laced, but permitting glimpses of blue. Upon thisarbor, bouncing along with an occasional chirp of contentment, and withthe air of one who has assumed the lead, went the Bird.
Gwendolyn's father walked in silence, his look fixed far ahead.Trotting at his side, she glanced up at him now and then. She did nothave to dread the coming of Jane, or Miss Royle, or Thomas. Yet she feltconcern--on the score of keeping beside him; of having ready a remark,gay or entertaining, should he show signs of being bored.
No sooner did the thought occur to her than the Bird was ready with astory. He fluttered down to the road, hunted a small brush from underhis left wing and scrubbed carefully at the feathers covering his crop."Now I can make a clean breast of it," he announced.
"Oh, you're going to tell us how you got the lump?" asked Gwendolyn,eagerly.
The feathers over his crop were spotless. He nodded--and tucked away thescrubbing brush. "Once upon a time," he began--
She dimpled with pleasure. "I like stories that start that way!" sheinterrupted.
"Once upon a time," he repeated, "I was just an ordinary sparrow,hopping about under the kitchen-window of a residence, busily picking upcrumbs. While I was thus employed, the cook in the kitchen happened tospill some salt on the floor. Being a superstitious creature shepromptly threw a lump of it over her shoulder. Well, the kitchen windowwas open, and the salt went through it and lit on my tail," (Here hepointed his beak to where the crystal had been). "And no sooner did itget firmly settled on my feathers--"
"The first person that came along could catch you!" cried Gwendolyn,"Jane told me _that_."
"Jane?" said the Bird.
"The fat two-faced woman that was my nurse."
The Bird ruffled his plumage. "Well, of course she knew the facts," headmitted "You see, _she was the cook_."
"Oh!"
"As long as that lump was on my tail," resumed the Bird, "anybody couldcatch me, and send me anywhere. And nobody ever seemed to want to takethe horrid load off--with salt so cheap."
"Did you do errands for my fath-er?"
Her father answered. "Messages and messages and messages," he murmuredwearily. (There was a rustle, as of paper.) "Mostly financial," Hesighed.
"Sometimes my work has eased up a trifle," went on the Bird, morecheerily; "that's when They hired Jack Robinson, because he's so quick."
"Oh, yes, you worked for They," said Gwendolyn. "Please, who are They?And what do They look like? And how many are there of 'em?"
Ahead was a bend in the road. He pointed it out with his bill. "Youknow," said he, "it's just as good to turn a corner as a stone. Forthere They are now!" He gave an important bounce.
She rounded the bend on tiptoe. But when she caught sight of They, itseemed as if she had seen them many times before. They were two innumber, and wore top hats, and plum-covered coats with black piping.They were standing in the middle of the road, facing each other. Abouttheir feet fluttered dingy feathers. And between them was a half-pluckedcrow, which They were picking.
Once she had wanted to thank They for the pocket in the new dress. Nowshe felt as if it would be ridiculous to mention patch-pockets to suchstately personages. So, leaving her father, she advanced modestly andcurtsied.
"How do you do, They," she began. "I'm glad to meet you."
They stared at her without replying. They were alike in face as well asin dress; even in their haughty expression of countenance.
"I've heard about you so often," went on Gwendolyn. "I feel I almostknow you. And I've heard lots of things that you've said. Aren't youalways saying things?"
"Saying things," They repeated. (She was astonished to find that Theyspoke in chorus!) "Well, it's often So-and-So that does the talking, butwe get the blame." Now They glared.
Gwendolyn, realizing that she had been unfortunate in the choice of asubject, hastened to reassure them. "Oh, I don't want to blame you,"she protested, "for things you don't do."
At that They smiled. "I blame him, and he blames me," They answered. "Inthat way we shift the responsibility." (At which Gwendolyn noddedunderstandingly.) "And since we always hunt as a couple" (here Theypulled fiercely at the feathers of the captured bird between them)"nobody ever knows who really _is_ to blame."
They cast aside the crow, then, and led the way along the road, walkingbriskly. Behind them walked the Policeman, one hand to his cap.
"Say, please don't put me off the Force," he begged.
Grass and flowers grew along the center of the road. No sooner did thePoliceman make his request than They moved across this tiny hedge andtraveled one side of the road, giving the other side over to theOfficer. Whereupon he strode abreast of They, swinging his night-stickthoughtfully.
The walking was pleasant there by the stream-side. The fresh breezecaressed Gwendolyn's cheeks, and swirled her yellow hair about hershoulders. She took deep breaths, through nostrils swelled to theirwidest.
"Oh, I like this place best in the whole, whole world!" she saidearnestly.
The next moment she knew why! For rounding another bend, she caughtsight of a small boyish figure in a plaid gingham waist and jeansoveralls. His tousled head was raised eagerly. His blue eyes shone.
"_Hoo_-hoo-oo-oo!" he called.
She gave a leap forward. "Why, it's Johnnie Blake!" she cried."Johnnie! Oh, Johnnie!"
It was Johnnie. There was no mistaking that small freckled nose. "Say!Don't you want to help dig worms?" he invited. And proffered hisdrinking-cup.
She needed no urging, but began to dig at once; and found bait inabundance, so that the cup was quickly filled, and she was compelled touse his ragged straw hat. "Oh, isn't this nice!" she exclaimed. "Andafter we fish let's hunt a frog!"
"I know where there's tadpoles," boasted he. "And long-legged bugs thatcan walk on the water, and--"
"Oh, I want to stay here always!"
She had forgotten that there were others about. But now a voice--herfather's--broke in upon her happy chatter:
"Without your _mother?_"
She had been sitting down. She rose, and brushed her hands on the skirtof her dress. "I'll find my moth-er," she said.
The little old gentleman was beside Johnnie, patting his shoulder andthrusting something into a riveted pocket. "There!" he half-whispered."And tell your father to be sure to keep this nose away from thegrindstone."
Gwendolyn wrinkled her brows. "But--but isn't Johnnie coming with _me?_"she asked.
At that Johnnie shook his head vigorously. "Not away from _here_," hedeclared. "No!"
"No," repeated Puffy. "Not away from the woods and the stream andfishing, and hunting frogs and tadpoles and water-bugs. Why, he's theRich Little Poor Boy!"
"Oh!--Well, then I'll come back!" She moved away slowly, looking over ashoulder at him as she went. "Don't forget! I'll come back!"
"I'll be here," he answered. "And I'll let you use my willow fishpole."He waved a hand.
There were carriage-lamps along the stream now. Alternating with thesewere automobile lights--brass side-lights, and larger brasssearch-lights, all like great glowing eyes.
Again They were in advance. "We can't be very far from the Barn," Theyannounced. And each waved his right arm in a half-circle.
"Robin Hood's Barn?" whispered Gwendolyn.
The Policeman nodded. "The first people to go around it," said he, "wereladies who used feather-dusters on the parlor furniture."
"I s'pose it's been built a long time," said Gwendolyn.
"Ah, a _long_ time!" Her father was speaking. Now he halted and pointeddown--to a wide road that crossed the one she was traveling. "Justnotice
how _that's_ been worn."
The wide road had deep ruts. Also, here and there upon it were great,bowl-like holes. But a level strip between the ruts and the holes shoneas if it had been tramped down by countless feet.
"Around Robin Hood's Barn!" went on her father sadly. "How many havehelped to wear that road! Not only her mother, but _her_ mother beforeher, and then back and back as far as you can count."
"I can't count back very far," said Gwendolyn, "'cause I never have anytime for 'rithmatic. I have to study my French, and my German, and mymusic, and my--"
Her father groaned. "I've traveled it, too," he admitted.
She lifted her eyes then. And there, just across that wide road, was theBarn!--looming up darkly, a great framework of steel girders, all boltedtogether, and rusted in patches and streaks. Through these girders couldbe seen small regular spots of light.
"Nobody _has_ to go round the Barn," she protested. "Anybody could justgo right in at one side and right out at the other."
"But the _road!_" said her father meaningly. "If ever one's feet touchit--!"
She thought the road wonderful. It was river-wide, and full of gentleundulations. Where it was smoothest, it reflected the Barn and all thesurrounding lights. Yet now (like the shining tin of a roof-top) itresounded--to a foot-fall!
"Some one's coming!" announced the Piper.
_Buzz-z-z-z!_
It was a low, angry droning.
The next moment a figure came into sight at a corner of the Barn. It wasa slender, girlish figure, and it came hurrying forward along thecircular way with never a glance to right or left. Gwendolyn could seethat whoever the traveler was, her dress was plain and scant. Nor werethere ornaments shining in her pretty hair, which was unbound. She wasshod in dainty, high-heeled slippers. And now she walked as fast as shecould; again she broke into a run; but taking no note of the ruts andrough places, continually stumbled.
"She's watching what's in her hand," said the Man-Who-Makes-Faces."Contemplation, speculation, perlustration." And he sighed.
"She'll have a fine account to settle with me,"--this the Piper again.He whipped out his note-book. "That's what _I_ call a merry dance."
"See what she's carrying," advised the Bird. In one hand the figure helda small dark something.
Gwendolyn looked. "Why,--why," she began hesitatingly, "isn't it a_bonnet?_"
A bonnet it was--a plain, cheap-looking piece of millinery.
_BUZZ-Z-Z-Z-Z!_
The drone grew loud. The figure caught the bonnet close to her face andheld it there, turning it about anxiously. Her eyes were eager. Her lipswore a proud smile.
It was then that Gwendolyn recognized her. And leaned forward, holdingout her arms. "Moth-er!" she plead. "_Mother!_"
Her mother did not hear. Or, if she heard, did not so much as lift hereyes from the bonnet. She tripped, regained her balance, and rushedpast, hair wind-tossed, dress fluttering. At either side of her, smokecurled away like silk veiling blown out by the swift pace.
"Oh, she's burning!" cried Gwendolyn, in a panic of sudden distress.
The Doctor bent down. "That's money," he explained; "--burning herpockets."
"She can't see anything but the bee. She can't hear anything but thebee." It was Gwendolyn's father, murmuring to himself.
"_The bee!_"
Now the Bird came bouncing to Gwendolyn's side. "You've read that beesare busy little things, haven't you?" he asked. "Well, this particularso-cial hon-ey-gath-er-ing in-sect--"
"That's the very one!" she declared excitedly.
"--Is no exception."
"We must get it away from her," declared Gwendolyn. "Oh, how _tired_ herpoor feet must be!" (As she said it, she was conscious of the burningache of her own feet; and yet the tears that swam in her eyes were tearsof sympathy, not of pain.) "Puffy! Won't you eat it?"
Puffy blinked as if embarrassed. "Well, you see, a bee--er--makeshoney," he began lamely.
The figure had turned a corner of the Barn. Now, on the farther side ofthe great structure, it was flitting past the openings.
Gwendolyn rested a hand on the wing of the Bird. "Won't _you_ eat it?"she questioned.
The Bird wagged his bumpy head. "It's against all the laws of thisLand," he declared.
"But this is a _society_ bee."
"A bird isn't even allowed to eat a bad bee. But"--chirping low--"I'lltell you what _can_ be tried."
"Yes?"
"_Ask your mother to trade her bonnet for the Piper's poke_."
Gwendolyn stared at him for a moment. Then she understood. "The poke'sprettier," she declared. "Oh, if she only would! Piper!"
The Piper swaggered up. "Some collecting on hand?" he asked. Swingingas usual from a shoulder was the poke.
Gwendolyn thought she had never seen a prettier one. Its ribbon bowswere fresh and smart; its lace was snow-white and neatly frilled.
"Oh, I _know_ she'll make the trade!" she exclaimed happily.
The Piper considered the matter, pursing his lips around the pipe-stemin his mouth; standing on one foot.
Gwendolyn appealed to the Man-Who-Makes-Faces. "Maybe moth-er'll have tohave her ears sharpened," she suggested.
The little old gentleman shook his shaggy head. "_Don't let her hearthat pig!_" he warned darkly.
"She'll come round in another moment!" It was the Doctor, voice verycheery.
At that, the Piper unslung the poke and advanced to the edge of theroad. "I've never wanted this crazy poke," he asserted over a shoulderto Gwendolyn. "Now, I'll just get rid of it. And I'll present thatbonnet with the bee" (here he laughed harshly) "to a woman that hasn'tfooted a single one of my bills. Ha! ha!"
_Buzz-z-z-z!_
Again that high, strident note. Gwendolyn's mother was circling intosight once more. Fortunately, she was keeping close to the outer edge ofthe road. The Piper faced in the direction she was speeding, andprepared to race beside her.
_BUZZ-Z-Z-Z!_
It was an exciting moment! She was holding out the bonnet as before. Hethrust the poke between her face and it, carefully keeping the lace andthe bows in front of her very eyes.
"Madam!" he shouted. "Trade!"
"Moth-er!"
Her mother heard. Her look fell upon the poke. She slowed to a walk.
"_Trade!_" shouted the Piper again, dangling the poke temptingly.
She stopped short, gazing hard at the poke. "Trade?" she repeatedcoldly. (Her voice sounded as if from a great distance.) "Trade? Well,that depends upon what They say."
Then she circled on--at such a terrible rate that the Piper could notkeep pace. He ceased running and fell behind, breathing hard andcomplaining ill-temperedly.
"Oh! Oh!" mourned Gwendolyn. The smoke blown back from that fleeingfigure smarted her throat and eyes. She raised an arm to shield herface. Disappointed, and feeling a first touch of weariness, she couldnot choke back a great sob that shook her convulsively.
The Man-Who-Makes-Faces, whiskers buried in his ragged collar, wasnodding thoughtfully "By and by," he murmured; "--by and by, presently,later on."
The Doctor was even more comforting. "There! There!" he said. "Don'tcry."
"But, oh," breathed Gwendolyn, her bosom heaving, "why don't you feel_her_ pulse?"
"It's--it's terrible," faltered Gwendolyn's father. His agonized lookwas fixed upon the road.
Now the road was indeed terrible. For there were great chasms init--chasms that yawned darkly; that opened and closed as if by the rushand receding of water. Gwendolyn's mother crossed them in flittingleaps, as from one roof-top to another. Her daintily shod feet scarcelytouched the road, so swift was her going. A second, and she was whippedfrom sight at the Barn's corner. About her slender figure, as itdisappeared, dust mingled with the smoke--mingled and swirled,funnel-like in shape, with a wide base and a narrow top, like thepicture of a water-spout in the back of Gwendolyn's geography.
The Piper came back, wiping his forehead. "What does she care about apoke!" he scolded, flinging himse
lf down irritably. "Huh! All she thinksabout is what They say!"
At that Gwendolyn's spirits revived. Somehow, instantly and clearly, sheknew what should be done!
But when she opened her mouth, she found that she could not speak. Herlips were dry. Her tongue would not move. She could only swallow.
Then, just as she was on the point of throwing herself down and givingway utterly to tears, she felt a touch on her hand--a furry touch. Next,something was slipped into her grasp. It was the lip-case!
"Well, Mr. Piper," she cried out, "what _do_ They say?"
They were close by, standing side by side, gazing at nothing. For theireyes were wide open, their faces expression-less.
Gwendolyn's father addressed them. "I never asked my wife to drop thatsort of thing," he said gravely, "--for Gwendolyn's sake. _You_ might, Isuppose." One hand was in his pocket.
The two pairs of wide-open eyes blinked once. The two mouths spoke inunison: "Money talks."
Gwendolyn's father drew his hand from his pocket. It was filled withbills. "Will these--?" he began.
It was the Piper who snatched the money out of his hand and handed it toThey. And thinking it over afterward, Gwendolyn felt deep gratitude forthe promptness with which They acted. For having received the money,They advanced into that terrible road, faced half-about, and halted.
The angry song of the bee was faint then. For the slender figure wasspeeding past those patches of light that could be seen through thegirders of the Barn. But soon the buzzing grew louder--as Gwendolyn'smother came into sight, shrouded, and scarcely discernible.
They met her as she came on, blocking her way. And, "Madam!" Theyshouted. "Trade your bonnet for the Piper's poke!"
Gwendolyn held her breath.
Her mother halted. Now for the first time she lifted her eyes and lookedabout--as if dazed and miserable. There was a flush on each smoothcheek. She was panting so that her lips quivered.
The Piper rose and hurried forward. And seeing him, half-timidly shereached out a hand--a slender, white hand. Quickly he relinquished thepoke, but when she took it, made a cup of his two hands under it, as ifhe feared she might let it fall. The poke was heavier than the bonnet.She held it low, but looked at it intently, smiling a little.
Presently, without even a parting glance, she held the bonnet out tohim. "Take it away," she commanded. "It isn't becoming."
He received it; and promptly made off along the road, the bonnet held upbefore his face. "When it comes to chargin'," he called back, with anindependent jerk of the head, "I'm the only chap that can keep ahead ofa chauffeur." And he laughed uproariously.
Gwendolyn's mother now began to admire the poke, turning it around, atthe same time tilting her head to one side,--this very like the Bird!She fingered the lace, and picked at the ribbon. Then, having viewed itfrom every angle, she opened it--as if to put it on.
There was a bounce and a piercing squeal. Then over the rim of the poke,with a thump as it hit the roadway, shot a small black-and-white pig.
She dropped the poke and sprang back, frightened. And as the porker cutaway among the trees, she wheeled, caught sight of Gwendolyn, andsuddenly opened her arms.
With a cry, Gwendolyn flung herself forward. No need now to fearharming an elegant dress, or roughing carefully arranged hair."Moth-er!" She clasped her mother's neck, pressing a wet cheek against acheek of satin.
"Oh, my baby! My baby!--Look at mother!"
"I _am_ looking at you," answered Gwendolyn, half sobbing and halflaughing. "I've looked at you for a _long_ time. 'Cause I _love_ you soI love you!"
The next moment the Man-Who-Makes-Faces dashed suddenly aside--to anearby flower-bordered square of packed ground over which, blazing withlights, hung one huge tree. Under the tree was a high, broad bill-board,a squat stool, and two short-legged tables. The little old gentlemanbegan to bang his furniture about excitedly.
"The tables are turned!" he shouted. "The tables are turned!"
"Of course the tables are turned," said Gwendolyn; "but whatdiff'rence'll _that_ make?"
"Difference?" he repeated, tearing back; "it means that from now oneverything's going to be exactly _opposite_ to what it has been."
"Oo! Goody!" Then lifting a puzzled face. "But why didn't you turn thetables at first? And why didn't we stay here? My moth-er was here allthe time. And--"
The Man-Who-Makes-Faces regarded her solemnly. "Suppose we hadn't gonearound," he said. "Just suppose." Before her, in a line, were They, theDoctor, the Policeman, Puffy and the Bird. He indicated them by a nod.
She nodded too, comprehending.
"But now," went on the little old gentleman, "we must allabsquatulate." He took her hand.
"Oh, must you?" she asked regretfully. Absquatulate was a big word, butshe understood it, having come across it one day in the Dictionary.
"Good-by." He leaned down. And she saw that his round black eyes wereclouded, while his square brush-like brows were working with the effortof keeping back his tears. "Good-by!" He stepped back out of the waitingline, turned, and made off slowly, turning the crank of the hand-organas he went.
Now the voices of They spoke up. "We also bid you good-night," They saidpolitely. "We shall have to go. People must hear about this." Andshoulder to shoulder They wheeled and followed the little old gentleman.
"But my Puffy!" said Gwendolyn. "I'd like to keep him. I don't care ifhe is shabby."
For answer there was a crackling and crashing in the underbrush, as ifsome heavy-footed animal were lumbering away.
"I think," explained her father, "that he's gone to make some poorlittle boy very happy."
"Oh, the Rich Little Poor Boy, I guess," said Gwendolyn, contented.
The Bird was just in front of her. He looked very handsome and bright ashe flirted his rudder saucily, and darted, now up, now down. Presently,he began to sing--a glad, clear song. And singing, rose into the air.
"Oh!" she breathed. "He's happy 'cause he got that salt off his tail."When she looked again at the line, the Policeman was nowhere to beseen. "Doctor!"
"Yes."
"Don't _you_ go."
"The Doctor is right here," said her mother, soothingly.
Gwendolyn smiled. And put one hand in the clasp of her mother's, theother in a bigger grasp.
"Tired out--all tired out," murmured her father.
She was sleepy, too--almost past the keeping open of her gray eyes."Long as you both are with me," she whispered, "I wouldn't mind if I wasback in the nursery."
The glow that filled the Land now seemed suddenly to soften. Theclustered tapers had lessened--to a single chandelier of four globes.Next, the forest trees began to flatten, and take on the appearance ofa conventional pattern. The grass became rug-like in smoothness. The skysquared itself to the proportions of a ceiling.
There was no mistaking the change at hand!
"We're getting close!" she announced happily.
The rose-colored light was dim, peaceful. Here and there through it shecaught glints of white and gold. Then familiar objects took shape. Shemade out the pier-glass; flanking it, her writing-desk, upon which werethe two silver-framed portraits. And there--between the portraits--wasthe flower-embossed calendar, with pencil-marks checking off each figurein the lines that led up to her birthday.
She sighed--a deep, tremulous sigh of content.