Peggy Stewart, Navy Girl, at Home Part 10

"And how can I swallow another morsel," was Polly's wail. "Peggy Stewart, why will you have so many good things all at once? Couldn't you have spread it out over several meals and let us have it on the instalment plan?"

"Wheedles couldn't have his birthday that way," laughed Peggy, unwittingly letting a cat escape from a bag, for woe upon the mids.h.i.+pman whose birthday is known. Thus far Wheedles had kept it a profound secret, and Mrs. Harold and Polly, who were wise to what was likely to happen to him if it were known, had kept mum. But, alack, they had forgotten to warn Peggy and her words touched off the mine.

"Eh? What? Never! Something doing? You're a sly one. Thought you'd get off scot-free, did you? Not on your sweet life! Let's give him what for.

Excuse this digression, Peggy; it's a ceremony never omitted. It would have been attended to earlier in the day had we suspected, and it can't be delayed any longer. Besides we MUST shake down that which has gone before if more is to follow. Beg pardon, Little Mother, but you know the traditions. Make our peace with Dr. Llewellyn for this little side- show," and the next second Wheedles was in full flight with all his chums hotfoot upon his trail.

How in the world those boys could run as they did after such a feast without apoplexy following, must remain a mystery to all excepting those who have lived in their midst.

Over the lawn, dodging behind the oaks, vaulting the fence into the adjoining field, to the consternation of half a dozen sleek, sedate Alderney cows, tore Wheedles, his pursuers determined to overhand him and administer the drubbing incident to the iniquity of having a birthday.

Dr. Llewellyn and Captain Pennell rose to their feet, one shouting, the other yelling with the rest of the mob, while Mrs. Harold and the girls could only sit and laugh helplessly.

It was Shortie's long legs which overtook the quarry, both coming to the ground with a crash which would have killed outright any one but a football tackle and a basket-ball captain. In a second the whole bunch had the laughing, helpless victim.

"Look the other way please, people," called Shortie, promptly placing Wheedles across his knee--two men holding his arms, two more his kicking legs--while Shortie properly and deliberately administered twenty sounding spanks. Then releasing him he said to the others who were nothing loath:

"Finish the job. I've done my part and I've had one corking big feed."

And they finished it by holding poor Wheedles by his shoulders and feet and b.u.mping him upon the gra.s.s until he must have seen stars--AND THE DINNER WAS WELL SHAKEN DOWN.

"NOW will you try to get away from us?" they demanded, putting him upon his feet.

"It's all over but the shouting, Little Mother, and we'll be good," they laughed as they trooped back to the table, settling blouses, and giving hasty pats to their dishevelled pates, for Wheedles had certainly given them a run for their money.

Meanwhile, Jerome and Mammy had looked on half in consternation, half in glee, for where is your pure-blooded African, old or young, who doesn't sympathize with monkey-s.h.i.+nes? As the administrators of justice were in the midst of their self-imposed duties, the half-dozen little darky servitors appeared around the corner of the house bearing the dessert, and there is no telling what might have happened to it had not Aunt Cynthia, hearing the uproar, and "cravin' fer ter know ef de rown' worl'

was a-comin' to an end," followed close behind her satellites. That great mold of ice cream, mound of golden wine jelly, dishes of cakes galore would certainly have met total destruction but for her prompt and emphatic command:

"Yo' chillern 'tend to yo' bisness an' nemmine what gwine on over yander." That saved the feast, for the little darkies were convinced that "one ob dose young mens liked ter be kill fer suah."

Had it been mid-July instead of a Maryland November that ice cream could not have vanished more quickly, and in the process of its disappearance, Jerome vanished also. This was not noticed by Peggy's guests, but his return was hailed with first a spontaneous shout and then a:

"Rah! Rah! Hoohrah! Hoohrah! Navy Hoohrah!" and "Oh that's some cake!"

"Nothing the matter with THAT edifice." "Who said we couldn't eat any more?" For with the dignity of a majordomo Jerome bore upon its frilled paper doily a huge chocolate layer cake, ornately decorated with yellow icing, and twenty dark blue candles, their yellow flames barely flickering in the still air, while behind him walked his little trenchermen, one bearing a big gla.s.s pitcher of amber cider, another, dishes of nuts, and another a tray of Mammy Lucy's home-made candies.

If ever a birthday cake was enjoyed and appreciated, certainly that one was, and there is no telling how long the merry party would have lingered over the nuts, candies and cider had not a startling interruption taken place.

The afternoon was well advanced. Mrs. Harold, the captain and Dr.

Llewellyn had reached the limit of their appet.i.tes and were now watching and listening to the merry chatter of the young people who sat sipping the cider--they had long since pa.s.sed beyond the DRINKING point--and eating the black walnuts and hickory nuts which had been gathered upon the estate, for Severndale was famous for its cider and nuts. The cider was made from a brand of apples which had been grown in the days of Peggy's great-grandfather and carefully cultivated for years. They ripened late, and needed a touch of frost to perfect them. The ciderhouse and press stood just beyond the meadow in which the Severndale cows led a luxurious life of it, and the odor of the rich fruit invariably drew a line of them to the dividing fence, where they sniffed and peered longingly at "forbidden fruit." But if every dog, as we are told, has his day, certainly a cow may hope to have hers some time. That it should have happened to be Wheedles' day also was merely accidental.

As in most respectable communities there is almost invariably an individual or two whose conduct is open to criticism, so in Severndale's eminently irreproachable herd of sleek kine there was one obstreperous creature and her offspring. They were possessed to do the things their more well conducted sisters never thought of doing. The cow had a strain of distinctly plebian blood which, transmitted to her calf, probably accounted for their eccentricities. If ever a fence was broken through, if ever a br.i.m.m.i.n.g pail of milk was overturned, if a stable towel was chewed to ribbons, a feed bin rifled, it could invariably be traced to Betsy Brindle and her incorrigible daughter Sally Simple, and this afternoon they surpa.s.sed themselves. As Peggy's guests sat in that blissful state of mind and body resulting from being "serenely full, the epicure would say," they were startled by an altogether rowdy, abandoned "Moo-oo-oo-oo," echoed in a higher key, and over the lawn came two as disreputable-looking animals as one could picture, for Betsy Brindle and her daughter, a pretty little year-old heifer, were unquestionably, undeniably, hopelessly intoxicated. Betsy was swaying and staggering from side to side, wagging her head foolishly and mooing in the most maudlin manner, while Sally, whose potations affected her quite differently, was cavorting madly thither and yonder, one moment almost standing upon her head, with hind legs and tail waving wildly in mid- air, the next with the order reversed and pawing frantically at the clouds.

Behind the arrant ones in mad chase and consternation came the young negro lad whose duty it was to see that the cattle were properly housed at nightfall. He had gone to the meadow for his charges only to find these incorrigibles, as upon many another occasion, missing. How long they had been at large he could not guess. At last, after long search, he discovered them in the inclosure where the barreled apples were kept and two whole barrels rifled. When this had taken place his African mind did not a.n.a.lyze, though a scientist could have told him almost to an hour and explained also that in the cows' double stomachs the apples had promptly fermented and become highly intoxicating, with the present result. But poor Cicero was petrified. His young mistress entertaining "de quality" and his unruly charges scandalizing her by tearing into their very midst.

"Moo--o--moo, e--moooo--" bellowed Betsy, making snake tracks across the lawn.

"Moo, Moo, Moo, Moo, Mooee--" echoed Sally in lively staccato, doing a wild Highland fling with quite original steps.

"Hi dar! Come 'long away. Get off en dat lawn. Come away from dat 'ar pa'ty," screamed Cicero. "Ma Lawd-a-mighty, dem cows gwine 'grace me an'

ruin me fer evah," and it would doubtless have proved true had not the boys sprung to their feet to join in the cowherd's duties, only too ready for any prank which presented an outlet for their fun-loving souls. Shortie promptly took command of the defending forces, and crying:

"Come on, fellows, head the old lady off before she knocks the table endwise," was off with a rush, the others hotfoot after him, waving arms and shouting until poor old Betsy Brindle's addled head must have thought all the imps of the lower regions turned loose upon her.

Circling wide, the boys made a complete barrier beyond which the poor tipsy cow dared not force her way. So with a hopelessly pathetic "moo"

and a look at her adversaries which might have done credit to the mock turtle of Lewis Carrol's creation, she surrendered forthwith, and promptly flopped down in the middle of the lawn.

Not so her daughter. Not a bit of it! SHE had not finished her fling and never did madder chase ensue than the one which at length ended in effectually cornering the flighty one.

"Lemme tote her home. Fer de Lawd's sake, sah, lemme tote her home quick, 'fore Unc' Jess an' Missie Peggy kill me daid," begged Cicero.

"You tote her home, you spindly little shaver! She'd part her cable and go adrift in half a minute after you got under way. Come on, boys, we've got to convoy this craft into her home port. Make fast," and with the experience of three years' training in seamans.h.i.+p, Shortie and his companions proceeded to make fast the recalcitrate Sally, and amidst hoots and yells calculated to sober up the most hopeless inebriate, they led her to her barn where Cicero read her the riot act as he fastened her in her stall. Meanwhile Betsy had succ.u.mbed to slumber and at Dr.

Llewellyn's suggestion was left to sleep off the effects of her over- indulgence. When the boys got back from the barn poor Peggy was run unmercifully.

"And we thought Severndale a model home. A well-conducted establishment.

Yet the very first time we come out here we find even the COWS with a jag on that a confirmed toper couldn't equal if he tried, and yet you pose as a model young woman, Peggy Stewart, and are accepted in all good faith as our Captain Polly's friend. Watch out, Little Mother. Watch out. We can't let our little Captain visit where even the COWS give way to such disgraceful performances."

Poor Peggy was incapable of defending herself for she and Polly had laughed until they were weak, and for many a long day after Peggy heard of her tipsy cows.

When peace once more descended upon the land it was almost time for the visitors to return to Annapolis, but before departing they visited the paddock, the stables, and the beautiful old colonial house. And so ended Wheedles' birthday, and the next excitement was caused by the Army-Navy game to which Peggy went with Mrs. Harold's party, enjoying the outing as only a girl whose experiences have been limited, and who is ready for new impressions, can enjoy. And with the pa.s.sing of the game November pa.s.sed also and before she knew it Christmas was upon her, and Christmas. .h.i.therto for Peggy had meant merely gifts from Daddy Neil and a merrymaking for the servants. Without manifesting undue curiosity Mrs.

Harold had learned a good deal concerning Peggy's life and nothing she had learned had touched her so deeply as the loneliness of the holiday season for the young girl. It seemed to her the most unnatural she had ever heard of, and something like resentment filled her heart when she thought of Neil Stewart's unconscious neglect of his little daughter.

She argued that his failing to appreciate that he was neglectful did not excuse the fact, and she resolved that this year Peggy should spend the holidays with her and Polly at Wilmot, and the servants at Severndale could look to their own well-being. Nevertheless, Peggy laid her plans for the pleasure of the Severndale help and saw to it that they would have a happy time under Harrison's supervision. Then Peggy betook herself to Wilmot for the happiest Christmastide she had ever known.

The holiday season at the Academy is always a merry one, but until very recently, there has been no Christmas recess and the mids.h.i.+pmen had to find amus.e.m.e.nt right in the little old town of Annapolis, or within the Academy's limits. The frolicking begins with the Christmas eve hop given by the mids.h.i.+pmen.

Mrs. Harold had not allowed Polly to attend the hops given earlier in the winter, for she was a wise woman and felt that social diversions of that nature were best reserved for later years, when school-days were ended. But she made an exception at the Christmas season, when Polly in common with other girls, had a holiday, and Peggy and Polly would go to the hop.

Unless one has seen a hop given at the Academy it is difficult to understand the beauty of the scene, and to Peggy it seemed a veritable fairy-land, with its lights, its banners, its lovely girls, uniformed laddies and music "which would make a wooden image dance," she confided to Mrs. Harold, and added: "And do you know, I used to rebel and be so cranky when Miss Arnaud came to give me dancing-lessons when I was a little thing. I just HATED it, and how she ever made me learn I just don't know. But I had to do as she said, and maybe I'm not glad that I DID. Why, Little Mother, suppose I HADN'T learned. Wouldn't I have been ashamed of myself now?"

Mrs. Harold pulled a love-lock as she answered: "You train your colts, girlie, and they are the better for their training, aren't they?"

Peggy gave a quick glance of comprehension, and her lips curved in a smile as she said:

"But they never behave half as badly as I used to with Miss Arnaud."

And so the Christmas eve was danced away.

Christmas morning was the merriest Peggy had ever known. Long before daylight she was wakened by Polly shaking her and crying:

"Peggy, wake up! Wake up! What do you think? Aunt Janet has filled stockings and hung them on the foot of the bed. She must have slipped in while we were sound asleep, and oh, I don't wonder we slept after that dance, do you?" rattled on Polly, scrambling around to close the window and turn on the steam, for the morning was a snappy one.

"Whow! Ooo!" yawned Peggy, to whom late hours were a novelty and who felt as though she had dropped asleep only ten minutes before. "Why, Polly Howland, it's pitch dark, and midnight! I know it is," she protested. "How do you know there are stockings there, anyway?"

"I was s.h.i.+vering and when I reached over to get the puff cover my hand touched something b.u.mpy. I've felt of it and I KNOW it's a stocking. I never thought of having one, for I thought all those things were way back in little girl days. But turn on the electric lights quick--they're on your side of the bed--and we'll see what's in them; the stockings, I mean."

Peggy turned the b.u.t.ton and the lights flashed up.

"Goodness, isn't it freezing cold," she cried. "Let's put the puff cover around us," and rolled up in the big down coverlet the girls dove into their b.u.mpy stockings, exclaiming or laughing over the contents, for evidently the boys had been in the secret, for out of Peggy's came a little bronze cow and calf labeled "C. and S."

"Now what in the world does C. and S. stand for, I wonder?" she said.

"Oh, Peggy, those are the initials for 'Clean and Sober,' the report the officer-of-the-deck makes when the enlisted men come aboard after being on liberty. If they are intoxicated and untidy they check them up D. and D.--which means Drunk and Dirty. You'll never hear the last of Betsy Brindle's caper."