Katharine Ellis Barrett

The meeting of the Three R’s the next evening was one of particular importance. Not only to the eager reporters, who found that even Dot’s party would not spread out sufficiently to use up the space they had allotted to social events, but to the club members themselves. It was Judge Arthur’s fiftieth birthday, and as he was a childless man, quite alone in the world, his friendly neighbors were determined to make the day memorable for him. The meeting was to be at Three Gables, so the journalists were behind the scenes from the start. The only difficulty in the way of their writing it up was that they were so busy all day that there was not time to take a pen in hand.

“I always see to the refreshments when they meet here,” said Catherine to her three helpers, as she appeared, wearing by Hannah’s request, her brown smock. “You can crack the nuts for the salad if you will, Frieda; and Hannah, if you and Alice will get the dishes out of the way, that would be the most help. Mother wants Inga to sweep 255 the living-room, and we can have a jolly time out here.”

“You ought to see the kitchen at Frieda’s house,” said Hannah, as she made a fine suds in the rinsing pan and poured it over the glasses. “What did you think of our black stoves and things, Frieda?”

“I saw one in the American church first, you know.”

Hannah smiled at the diplomatic evasion. “You are the nicest thing I ever saw, Frieda. You don’t say anything unfavorable of anything any more. When I was at your house I kept criticising the whole country. But you are so polite,–as polite as Karl!”

Frieda looked pleased, but she only said sedately: “We were children when you were in Berlin, Hannah. Now it is proper for us to act like grown-ups.”

“You were awfully grown-up in that pillow fight last night!”

Instantly the mask of primness vanished from Frieda’s face, and roguish twinkles showed themselves.

“Don’t let me ever catch you turning prig, Frieda Lange,” advised Hannah. “And now don’t ask me what a prig is, for I don’t know in German, and there’s no way here to find out. What else are you going to have for eats, Catherine?”

Catherine shuddered. “I suppose you’d think I was a prig if I told you how I hate that word 256 ‘eats,’ so I won’t tell you! The chief thing to-night is the birthday cake, of course. And Inga is going to make grape-fruit sherbet. It’s so nice with a little tang of tartness to it, you know. And we’ll have olive sandwiches with the salad and coffee. You can all help with those!”

“It’s such fun to help,” said Alice. “At home there are so many of us, and no maid at all, you know, and we have awfully jolly times, really. Mother is cook and she has a different scullery-maid for each meal. And the rest of us divide up the rooms, and so on. The boys are great workers, too. Even little Jack brings in kindlings and wipes the silver. He plays the knives are men, and the forks their wives and the spoons the little children.”

“O, so did I, always,” cried Catherine. “And it used to worry me dreadfully not to know positively that the proper couples were together. Once I tied them all neatly with different colored silks, but Mother didn’t approve. Through with the nuts so soon, Frieda? Then you can begin on the sandwiches.”

“Ach! The butter is too difficult!”

“Cream it, then. So!” and Alice illustrated. “I’ll go to work on these, too, while Hannah puts away the dishes, for I don’t know where they belong.”

“All right,” said Catherine. “But please don’t talk, any of you, for a few minutes. I don’t want 257 to lose a word that any of you say, and I’m afraid the cake may suffer.”

Dr. Helen stopped at the door and looked in at the group of silent workers. They all threw her kisses, and she went smiling on her way.

“I wish I had four of my own,” she thought to herself. “How the other mothers must be missing them! Four more interesting and delightful girls I never have known. Hannah has grown more mature since I saw her last, and Frieda is distinctly unique. Alice is the kind you can tie to. But I really think, without prejudice, my Catherine is a shade sweeter and steadier and more responsible than all the rest!”

By five o’clock the house was all ready. The decorations were great masses of goldenrod which Bert and Polly had gathered. Frieda had suggested tying them with bows of red ribbon, whereat the others had shrieked with horror and tried to Americanize her color sense a little. She approved of the birthday cake, and was interested in the big tin circle which held fifty candle-sockets, and would slip over the cake as it rested on a tray. Winding this circle with smilax proved a task just to Frieda’s mind, and she worked at it with Hannah’s help, while Alice and Catherine planned the “recreation” for the evening.

“I’m so glad,” said Catherine, stretching a little, “that we don’t have to get the Rest ready for them. 258 Refreshments and Recreation are enough to provide!”

“You need the Rest yourself,” said Hannah. “I think it was a shame that out-of-town call had to come for your mother this afternoon. She would have enjoyed these things, and she looked so tired.”

“I know. But I’m so glad she could go away and feel sure I’d carry things through. You don’t know what a comfort that is to me! Whenever I feel discouraged about things, I always pluck up spirit by remembering that I’m really useful to her. I couldn’t practise medicine myself, you know, but there have been lots of things Mother couldn’t have done, if I hadn’t been here to help at home. I wish she could be here this afternoon, though, for she is so clever at foolishnesses like this.”

“You’re clever enough at it, yourself,” growled Hannah. “I don’t see how you can do it. You and Alice make me sick with envy. You can cook and manage and tutor and make rhymes and everything, and I can’t do much of anything!”

“How about playing the violin?” suggested Alice.

“I can’t do that,” said Frieda suddenly. “I cannot do one thing. O, there comes Dr. Helen, after all! We were wishing you were here,” and Frieda sprang up and ran to meet the doctor. The others followed her and in an instant Dr. Helen found her arms full of welcoming girls.

259“I met a messenger on the way, telling me that I need not come, and I’ll admit it was a relief. I knew you’d get on all right, but I did want a finger in the pie. There! You may put my hat and coat away, Hannah, if you will, and I’ll get right to work. How prettily you are putting that smilax on, Frieda!”

“That’s right to cheer Frieda up, Mother,” said Catherine. “She was just saying that she couldn’t do anything.”

“Frieda was saying that? I thought you embroidered that wonderful apron yourself?”

“O, of course, but that is only Handarbeit,” said Frieda.

“Hand work is highly valued these days,” remarked the doctor. “If you could teach Catherine to sew so well, Frieda, I should be even prouder of her than I am now. But it must not distress you when you find that there is some one thing you can’t do. No one does everything well. It’s one of my pet theories that for every talent one has, there is some other he hasn’t. It’s part of the balancing of the world. Think how very disagreeable it would be if there were one person who could do everything, and some one else who could do nothing at all.”

“Don’t you think there are some people who can’t do anything?” asked Alice.

“Not really. Some people never seem to find 260 their special line. I’ve known people so perverse they wouldn’t do what they could, simply because they would have preferred something else. But I’m a firm believer that every one has a gift.”

“Is Handarbeit a gift?” asked Frieda, looking with respect at the graceful vine twining over the shoulder of her blue apron.

“Indeed it is,” said Dr. Helen. “And it is a gift more widely distributed than everybody knows. If you can, do help Catherine to discover that it is one of hers!”

“She helped me find out that I liked to sew,” said Hannah. “I hated the sight of a needle before I went to Germany. But I didn’t know you hated sewing, Catherine.”

“I don’t,” Catherine answered tranquilly. “But there are always so many other things to do, and there is so much to read. It makes me shiver to think that I have only three years more at Dexter, and I haven’t begun to read all I want to. I’d like to move over to the library and stay there.”

“That’s a serious criticism of your college life, Catherine,” said Dr. Helen.

Hannah giggled. “I suppose there is a library at Dexter, but I was there a whole term, and never went inside it once!”

Everybody laughed. “Well,” said Dr. Helen, “that was the other extreme. But I suppose if you young people were all-wise and learned, there’d 261 be no point in sending you to college at all. And the world would be much more monotonous if it were filled with grown-ups! What a conflagration those red candles will make, Frieda!”

Catherine had left her seat and gone across the room to the poetry section of the bookcase, and was now turning the pages of a small green book.

“Listen to this Singing Leaf, Mother!

“‘The wisest finding that I have
Is very young, no doubt,
Yet many a man must needs grow old
Before he finds it out.

“‘How happily it comes about–
And I was never told!–
That we must all be young awhile
Before we can be old!’”

Dr. Helen laughed. “That is certainly very appropriate, and a good close to our rather sermonizing talk. I suppose fifty-year-old birthday parties should lead one to serious thinking! But now show me how far your nonsense rhyming has progressed. It’s nearly supper time.”

The Three R’s were early comers and late stayers. Before the summer twilight was over, they had gathered in force. Alice, counting, suddenly said:

“Why, there are just forty-nine. Wouldn’t it be fun if just one more should come?”

“Who isn’t here?” asked some one. “Perhaps 262 there will be one other, though almost everybody has come.”

“The Judge himself isn’t here yet,” said Dr. Harlow. “He’ll make the fiftieth. There he is! Let’s line up, and give him a royal welcome!”

The suggestion “took,” and the little judge came up the walk, bowing on all sides, and smiling. As he reached the door and shook hands with Dr. Harlow and Dr. Helen, he looked about him peeringly. “Where’s my girl?” he asked.

“Here I am,” said Catherine, “and here is a little souvenir for you, Judge Arthur, with wishes for many returns of the day.” She presented with a flourish, a huge feather duster adorned with a great green bow. That was the signal and the others at once produced parcels of all sizes and shapes, and bestowed them upon the judge, who opened them under a rapid fire of friendly wit.

The special form of recreation offered for the evening was called “Strange Compounds.” Catherine had taken the idea from the nonsense verses which had been spreading over the country as generally as the limericks of a few years before. The guests grouped themselves at little tables, and some, with shears and pages cut from old natural histories, geographies or poultry and live stock journals, created grotesque illustrations for the verses descriptive of the hippopotamustang and the kangarooster and other strange beasts which 263 Catherine and Alice concocted during the afternoon. Others labored over historical combinations and the deeds of Bathrobespierre were sung in limpid strains, and the plaintive history of Old Black Joan of ArchÆology set every one off into a gale of mirth. The Three R’s had done so many foolish things together in the many years since their beginning as a club, that they were ready to laugh before a joke was thought of, and in that atmosphere of appreciation the frailest wit was bound to flourish. Mrs. Osgood headed a party of gardeners whose attempts at grafting produced such startling results as cro-custards and gerani-umbrellas. When some one requested help in developing the theme of a disaster, Judge Arthur shouted from the animal table that he had attempted to draw a wild-cat-astrophe and the picture would probably do for both!

Just in time to save them all from mental collapse, the white-gowned maidens brought in the dainty salad, sandwiches and cups of fragrant coffee. Then the noble birthday cake, wreathed in scarlet flame, was set before the judge, the candles blown out with good wishes, and the cake cut and served with the ice.

Dr. Harlow rose to announce that the prize for the most complete compound was given to Mr. Kittredge, who had conceived of a “pigeon-toad, with a lovely long dove-tail, and a pot-pied waistcoat 264 ringed and streaked, and a sweet dove-cot-ton veil.” Frieda and Hannah came solemnly into the room, bearing a crate, from the top of which appeared the head of a rooster, with a big bow of ribbon around its neck. They set it down before the minister amid the shouts of the assembled company.

“You may crow as much as you like, Sir,” said the doctor, “but this fellow will beat you.” And straightway, as though primed for his part, the rooster opened his mouth and filled the room with a long and lusty cock-a-doodle-doo!

“I was so afraid they would hear him before we brought him in,” said Frieda to the girls, as the four gathered on the window-seat. “He kept growing and growing out there!” and then she looked bewildered at the others’ sudden mirth. Her peculiarities of pronunciation were so few that the girls could never learn to expect them, and this, added to the other nonsense of the evening, was too much for even Catherine’s self-control.

“I never saw grown-up people do such funny things,” said Hannah, in order to cover their laughter. “Do they always act this way, Catherine?”

“O, no, indeed. I never saw them put in a whole evening quite so foolishly before. I didn’t know whether they would take the idea up or not, but Judge Arthur loves to laugh, and lately mother said 265 they had had quite stupid commonplace meetings,–cards and talking politics and literary and musical programs,–and she wanted something entirely different. They’re a lot of dears, anyway! The younger set wouldn’t think of laughing so hard and being so hilarious, even the Boat Club; and you should see the formal dignified parties that the Galleghers and those girls give! They go in carriages and the dancing doesn’t begin till nine, though every one has a six o’clock supper and almost goes to sleep waiting for it to be stylishly late to go. Max and Archie and Bess and Win always go, and sometimes the rest of us get in, but we hardly feel acquainted with each other when we meet in such surroundings. Polly’s mother told her she ought to entertain that crowd a while ago, because she was ‘indebted,’ and she planned a luncheon party, and at the last minute changed her mind and got up a Boat Club picnic instead. That was the last picnic before you girls came.”

“I’ve heard so much about those jolly picnics,” said Hannah, “and we haven’t been to one!”

“I know. Isn’t it odd that it happens so? But we’ll have one the night before we go back to college. The moon will be full, and the boys have all the plans made. There! They’re beginning to leave.” And Catherine went forward to help her mother’s guests find hats and scarfs.

“I never heard Catherine talk so much at once 266 before,” said Frieda lazily. “She looks beautiful to-night, too,–to boot!” She had just heard that phrase and though a little uncertain as to its exact significance, took pleasure in inserting it here and there in her speech.

“She’s a darling dear,” assented Alice, “and so is Dr. Helen, to boot! Now let’s help Inga clear things away and go to bed.”

A half-hour later, Frieda and Alice in the guest-room were sound asleep, and Hannah in her little bed was sleeping likewise. But Catherine was sitting by the window writing, by moon and candle light, notes for the Courier, due to appear to-morrow, and still lacking at least two columns! She wrote slowly and conscientiously, trying to be clear and simple, and yet not so unlike the usual style of the Courier as to excite comment. Presently she finished and, resting her elbows on the window-sill, looked out into the night. Capella twinkled at her and she leaned out to identify such of her beloved constellations as she could.

The house stood high on a hillside, and overlooked the streets of the little town. Suddenly through the trees Catherine saw the gleam of a moving lantern, then another and a third. She heard a voice call, and an answer from a distance.

“I wonder what it means?” she thought, watching and listening. “It sounds and looks very mysterious. The Courier!”

267The recently acquired news instinct recognized in this mystery of voices and moving lights at the dead of night a possible “scoop” for her paper. To be sure, her paper was the only one in Winsted, but that did not matter. She got up, and taking a long light cloak from the closet threw it over her shoulders, drawing the silk hood over her head. Then she stole out into the corridor and down the stairs, her party skirts rustling, and the boards now and then creaking under her stockinged feet. Down stairs she stopped, put on her pumps, and then let herself out, closing the door softly behind her.

Outside everything was very still. Catherine felt a little frightened and foolish. But having started, she would not turn back. Resolutely she went down the walk in the direction in which she had seen the lights.

“I might take Hotspur, though,” she thought, and turned back toward his house under the porch. The big dog sprang up to meet her, and leaped upon her, then drew her toward his kennel. Puzzled, Catherine followed him, and once there, knelt down and looked inside. Curled on the straw inside the roomy doghouse were two little figures. She pulled at them and called. Suddenly one sat up and said: “Mamma! Peter!”

“Perdita Osgood! what are you doing here?” and Catherine drew a sleepy dishevelled-looking 268 little girl out and into her arms. Perdita blinked and woke entirely.

“Elsmere and me went journeying,” she said, “and we stayed all night in Hotspur’s house, so bears wouldn’t get us.”

Then Catherine remembered the other slumberer, and dragged Elsmere out with more force than gentleness.

“I see now what the lights and the calling were,” she said. “They discovered that the children were not at home, and were out looking for them. Poor Polly and poor Algernon! Elsmere, wake up here, and come along home this minute. There, Perdita, I’ll carry you, you sleepy, naughty little girl. Elsmere, come along. Give me your hand.”

Down the hill they went, and through the short cut to the Osgood house, Elsmere running beside Catherine, who walked as rapidly as though Perdita had no weight, Hotspur leaping and bounding alongside.

In the path, through a little grove, they saw a twinkling lantern and Catherine called:

“Polly, Algernon! They’re here! I’m bringing them home.” With a rush the lantern-bearers were upon her, and Perdita was taken from her arms into Mr. Osgood’s, while Algernon, husky and faint with relief, picked up his brother and listened to Catherine’s story. She followed the others to the Osgoods’, where Polly and Mrs. Osgood were waiting 269 in suspense. Perdita had been put to bed as usual, but when Mrs. Osgood came home from the Three R’s party she had gone in to tuck the children up, and kiss them good night. Perdita was not there, and they searched the house before they thought of being alarmed. Not finding her anywhere, they had roused Peter and questioned him. He could only say: “I say, ‘Perdita, Perdita, stay home with Peter. Elsmere bad boy.’”

That suggested Elsmere, and investigation showed that, though he had not been missed at home, he was not there. Then the men had taken lanterns, and gone out to search.

No one was more distressed than Peter. “I’d ought to tooken care of Perdita better,” he would sob. “I’d ought to watched her better.”

“There, there, boy,” Catherine and Polly soothed him. “You did your best, and she’s home now, all safe, and won’t go journeying again, ever. She didn’t like Hotspur’s house, and she will stay home with Peter.”

“O, Catherine,” sighed Polly. “You are an only child, and you don’t know what agonies you can have over your brothers and sisters. It seems to me ever since Peter and Perdita were born I’ve been worrying about one or both of them!”

“Poor Polly!” said Catherine sympathetically. “But I don’t suppose you’d give me your share in them, would you?”

270Polly caught Peter close, and hugged him till he protested and drew away from her.

“Kiss me,” she begged.

“I did,” said Peter.

“Kiss me again.”

“I did twice,” said Peter. “I want to go to bed. Aw-ful sleepy!” and, with a yawn that set the others to imitating him, he stumbled off toward the stairs, in his little night clothes. Polly followed to make him comfortable, while Mr. Osgood took Catherine home.

“You did us a great service to-night, my dear,” he said, as he lifted his hat to say good night, when she had reached her home porch. “But I haven’t learned yet how you happened to find them.”

“I was out reporting for the Courier,” she told him and then, laughing softly at his astonished expression, explained her meaning. “And though I did find out the news, I can’t write it up,” she sighed. “I know how real journalists feel when they have to sacrifice a scoop for reasons of delicacy.”

“The Courier shall not suffer!” said Mr. Osgood. “Since it was for its sake that you went out, I’ll have to see that Max gets a little assistance. My profession doesn’t advertise, but I have some influence with one or two concerns that do, and I’ll see that your next number is full of something more profitable to the management than harrowing accounts of midnight searches for missing babies!”