Peggy Raymond's Vacation Part 11

Even on the memorable evening when she had entertained her listeners with ghost stories, Aunt Abigail's tones had not been more blood-curdling. The girls listened with open mouths.

"I was dreaming that I was captured by pirates, and one of them had put me in a chest, along with some of their booty, and was nailing down the lid. When I waked I could still hear the hammering, and for a moment I didn't know where I was. Then I realized that some one was knocking and I went to the window, and called, 'Who is it and what do you want?' And instantly two tramps appeared."

The girls uttered an exclamation. "If only we'd left you Hobo," Peggy cried.

"I'm afraid he wouldn't have been much protection against two such ruffians. Each one of them carried a heavy stick, and I dare say they were armed beside. As soon as I saw them, I called for them to go away, that I had nothing for them, but they were bold enough to stay and argue the point."

"What did they say, Aunt Abigail?"

"Don't ask me. I kept my self-possession perfectly, but at the same time I was excited, and didn't understand what they were saying. I presume they were demanding food and money and I kept declaring that I would give them nothing. At last they gave up and went off in the direction of Mrs. Snooks, and then I rushed down-stairs and locked everything up just as you found it."

It was clear that Aunt Abigail had found her experience trying. She was pale and seemed very unlike her usual composed self. Conscience stricken over having left her by herself, the girls petted her and asked innumerable questions, few of which Aunt Abigail was able to answer. But she described her unwelcome callers in detail, and Peggy found herself thinking that they bore more than a superficial resemblance to the desperadoes of Treasure Island. She could not help wondering if Aunt Abigail's lively imagination, excited first by her reading, and then by her vivid dream, had not added some touches to the picture.

"Well, girls," Peggy said at length, in a tone surprisingly matter-of-fact considering the circ.u.mstances, "I guess supper is the next thing in order. After we've had something to eat--"

She stopped abruptly. A loud knocking at the back door echoed through the cottage. Amy uttered a scream, clapping her hands over her mouth instantly, to stifle the sound. The others instinctively moved closer to one another, exchanging frightened glances. Hobo growled softly, the hair on his neck bristling and giving him a peculiarly savage appearance.

The knocking broke off for a moment, and then was resumed. "They've come back," said Aunt Abigail.

"Why, perhaps it's only Mrs. Snooks come to borrow something," Peggy was beginning hopefully, when out at the rear of the cottage somebody laughed. Whatever the cause of the unseemly merriment, Mrs. Snooks was not responsible for it. Peggy's sudden anger went to her head. She felt as if she had forgotten the meaning of fear. "I'm going to tell them,"

she exclaimed, "that if they don't go away, I'll set the dog on them."

She marched out into the kitchen, Hobo following, and as she reached the door, the knocking began for the third time. "If you don't go away,"

shouted Peggy through the keyhole, "my dog--"

A burst of laughter interrupted her. "Oh, come off, Peggy Raymond,"

cried a voice outside. "Open this door quick, if you know what's best for yourself."

Peggy's cry of joy was echoed by a rapturous shriek from Ruth, for the girls had courageously followed Peggy, as she advanced to hold parley with the besiegers, with an air of resolute determination worthy of Joan of Arc. Peggy fumbled at locks, bolts and catches, for Aunt Abigail had neglected no precaution, and the instant the door was opened, Ruth threw herself into the arms of a tall young fellow who walked in with the air of thinking that it was high time for him to be accorded the privilege.

"Oh, Graham, I never was so glad to see anybody! Some tramps scared us almost to death."

"Tramps! Oh, nonsense!" returned Graham, with a collegian's instant readiness to belittle the fears of his feminine relatives. "Come on in, Jack. It seems to be safe. You know Jack Rynson," he added over his sister's shoulder to Peggy, who nodded and turned to shake hands with another young man, who seemed a little uncertain as to his welcome.

But unmindful of her manners, Ruth was protesting. "It isn't nonsense, Graham. It's true. Two tramps were here this afternoon, shouting all kinds of threats at Aunt Abigail."

"Tramps," repeated Graham, and glanced at his friend. "What sort of looking chaps were they?"

"Oh, perfectly villainous. And each one had a great club of some sort and a bundle on his back."

Graham broke into a roar of laughter, in which Jack Rynson joined, though it should be reckoned to the latter's credit that he was making an evident effort not to seem amused.

"Talk of the journalistic imagination," shouted Graham. "Why, Jack, you newspaper fellows could get all sorts of points from these girls. We were the tramps, Ruth. So much obliged for your kind comments on our personal appearance."

Gradually Graham's incredulous listeners were driven to accept his a.s.surance. The arrival of the two young men when Aunt Abigail's thoughts were full of the horrors of her dream, had led her to see the good-looking boys, equipped with packs and walking sticks, in a most sinister light. The "tramps" were taken into the front room and introduced, Hobo, who had all of a dog's intuitive suspicion of old clothes, sniffing disapprovingly at their heels.

The laugh was against Aunt Abigail as she herself owned. "I would have taken my oath," she remarked reflectively, "that one of you had only one eye, and a scar that ran the length of his cheek. It shows that even if I'm not as young as I was, my imagination is still active. But you had packs on your backs. What has become of the clubs and packs?"

Graham explained that they had taken rooms at a farmhouse a little way down the road, and had left their belongings there. "We're out for a long tramp," Graham explained. "We mean to make several stops of a few days each, and we didn't know any better place to begin than right here."

"Are you staying with Mrs. Cole?" asked Peggy, and Graham shook his head. "No, the name wasn't Cole. It was--let's see."

Jack Rynson helped him out. "Snooks, I believe."

"That's it, Mrs. Snooks," agreed Graham, and then looked about him astonished, for the entire company, including Aunt Abigail, was helpless with laughter.

"She'll borrow your walking stick for a clothes pole," said Peggy, when she was able to speak, "and your pack for a footstool. She'll borrow everything you've got, and then be provoked because you haven't more."

It is a question whether anybody would have thought of supper if it had not been for Dorothy, who retired into a corner to weep. Questioned regarding her tears, she replied that she wanted her mother. "Homesick,"

some one said significantly.

"Hungry!" cried Peggy, with one of her flashes of intuition. "And what wonder! Just look at the clock! Girls, let's see how quick we can get something ready."

The meal though less ambitious than that which Peggy had originally planned, was satisfying. And it was not till the next day that the girls learned that the two young men who did such abundant justice to the bounty of Dolittle Cottage, had eaten another supper at Mrs. Snooks, a little over an hour earlier.

CHAPTER VIII

HOBO TO THE RESCUE

Life at Dolittle Cottage had been anything but uneventful, even before the arrival of Graham and his friend. But it must be confessed that the presence of the two young men added appreciably to the agreeable excitements and diversions of the days. For upwards of twenty-four hours the girls had maintained the superiority of first arrivals, and then to their surprise, found the tables turned and that they were being introduced to spots whose charms they had never discovered, and to pleasures as yet untried.

Jerry Morton bringing his fish as usual, looked askance at the two young fellows, taking their ease in the porch hammocks, and received with marked ungraciousness Peggy's suggestion that he should act as their guide to some point where the fis.h.i.+ng was good.

"I never could get on with swells," said Jerry, with his customary frankness. "Let 'em fish out of your cistern. Them city dudes will catch as much there as anywhere."

Peggy restrained her laughter with difficulty. It seemed rather hard that Graham and Jack, attiring themselves in garments so old as barely to be presentable should yet be designated by a term of such unbounded contempt. Privately, Peggy thought Aunt Abigail had come nearer the mark, and that the boys bore a more striking resemblance to tramps than to city dudes.

Wisely she made no effort to defend her friends. "Of course, if you are too busy," she said indifferently, "we can make some other arrangement.

Perhaps Mr. Cole would spare Joe--"

"Oh, I'll take 'em," interrupted Jerry, still sulkily, though he looked a little ashamed of himself. "I'll show 'em where the fish are, and if they come home with nothing but their tackle, don't blame me."

But the fis.h.i.+ng excursion was more successful than Jerry's gloomy hints gave ground for antic.i.p.ating. The boys brought back so many fish that thrifty Peggy racked her brains to find ways of disposing of them all.

Jerry, for his part, carried home a new idea of "city dudes" and their ways. These clear-eyed, clean-minded young fellows had not treated him as an inferior, nor had they committed the offence still less pardonable, from Jerry's standpoint, of condescending to his level. As fishermen, too, they had showed no mean skill, and from dislike and mistrust, Jerry had at length been brought to grudging admiration and reluctant respect.

The favorable impression was not all on one side, however. As Graham cleaned his fish--the girls lightening his labors, by sitting around in an appreciative circle--he suddenly checked his operations to exclaim: "Say, do you know, that fellow's a wonder!"

"Who? Not Jerry Morton?" Ruth's tone was rather scandalized, for Ruth did not share Peggy's faculty for finding all kinds of people interesting, and had a not uncommon weakness for good clothes and conventional manners.

"Yes, Jerry. Why, he's a walking encyclopedia! He knows everything about the trees and plants growing around here, except their scientific names.

And it's the same way with birds. He's learned it all first-hand, instead of out of books, you see. His eyes and his ears too, are as sharp as an Indian's! Pity that there isn't a better prospect of his amounting to something."

Peggy was delighted with the opportunity to discuss Jerry's case with some one inclined to appreciate the boy's good qualities. "He's got started wrong," she explained. "He's not really lazy, but he seems lazy to the people here. They think he's worthless and he resents that, and so he fancies he hates everybody. You see, he hasn't any father or mother. He lives with his grandmother and she--"

"Dear me! How do you pick up so much about that sort of people?"