Peggy Stewart, Navy Girl, at Home Part 17

You need two strong, able work-horses for your farm--these horses are both too high-bred for such work, that you know as well as I do--so I propose that we make a sensible bargain right now. We have a span of bays; good, stout fellows six years old, which we have used on the estate. They shall be yours for this pair with one hundred and twenty- five dollars to boot. Salt and Pepper are worth six hundred dollars right now, and in a little while, and under proper care and training, will be worth a good deal more. Shelby will bear me out in that, won't you?"

"I'd be a plumb fool if I didn't, miss," was Shelby's reply, and Peggy nodded and resumed: "I have paid seventy-five dollars for Salt, adding to that the one-twenty-five and the span, which I value at four hundred, would make it a square deal, don't you think so?"

Bolivar looked at the girl as though he thought she had taken leave of her wits. "One hundred and twenty-five dollars, and a span worth four hundred for a pair of horses which a month before he would have found it hard to sell for seventy-five each?--well, Miss Stewart must certainly be crazy." Peggy laughed at his bewilderment.

"I'm perfectly serious, Mr. Bolivar," she said.

"Yas'm, yas'm, but, my Lord, miss, I ain't seen THAT much money in two year, and your horses--I ain't seen 'em, and I don't want ter; if YOU say they're worth it that goes, but--but--well, well, things has been sort o' tough--sort o' tough," and poor, tired, discouraged Jim Bolivar leaned upon the fence and wept from sheer bodily weakness and nervous exhaustion.

Nelly ran to his side to clasp her arms about him and cry:

"Dad! Dad! Poor Dad. Don't! Don't! It's all right, Dad. We won't worry about things. G.o.d has taken care of us so far and He isn't going to stop."

"That ain't it, honey. That ain't it," said poor Bolivar, slipping a trembling arm about her. "It's--it's--oh, I can't jist rightly say what 'tis."

"Wall by all that's great, _I_ know, then," exclaimed Shelby, clapping him on the shoulder. "_I_ know, 'cause I've BEEN there: It's bein' jist down, out an' discouraged with everythin' and not a blame soul fer ter give a man a boost when he needs it. I lived all through that kind o'

thing afore I came ter Severndale, an' 'taint a picter I like fer ter dwell upon. No it ain't, an' we're goin' ter bust yours ter smithereens right now. You don't want fer ter look at it no longer."

"No I don't, I don't fer a fact," answered Bolivar, striving manfully to pull himself together and das.h.i.+ng from his eyes the tears which he felt had disgraced him.

Peggy drew near. Her eyes were soft and tender as a doe's, and the pretty lips quivered as she said:

"Mr. Bolivar, please don't try to go home tonight. Shelby can put you up, and Nelly shall stay with me. You are tired and worn out and the change will do you good. Then you can see the horses and talk it all over with Shelby, and by tomorrow things will look a lot brighter. And Nelly and I will have a little talk together too."

"I can't thank ye, miss. No, I can't. There ain't no words big nor grand enough fer ter do that. I ain't never seen nothin' like it, an' yo've made a kind o' heaven fer Nelly. Yes, go 'long with Miss Peggy, honey.

Ye ain't never been so looked after since yo' ma went on ter Kingdom Come." He kissed the delicate little face and turning to Shelby, said:

"Now come on an' I'll quit actin' like a fool."

"There's other kinds o' fools in this world," was Shelby's cryptic reply. "Jim," he called, "look after them horses," indicating Pepper and Salt, and once more united, the two were led away to the big stable where their future was destined to bring fame to Severndale.

Bolivar went with Shelby to his quarters, and their interest in riding having given way to the greater one in Nelly, the girls told Bud to take their horses back to the stable. From that moment, Nelly Bolivar's life was transformed. The following day she and her father went back to the little farm behind the well conditioned span from Severndale, and a good supply of provisions for all, for Shelby had insisted upon giving them what he called, "a good send off" on his own account, and enough oats and corn went with Tom and Jerry, as the new horses were named, to keep them well provisioned for many a day.

"Jist give 'em half a show an' they'll earn their keep," advised Shelby.

"I'll stop over before long and lend a hand gettin' things s.h.i.+p-shape. I know they're boun' ter get out o' kilter when yo' don't have anybody ter help. One pair o' hands kin only do jist so much no matter how hard they work. Good luck."

From that hour Nelly was Peggy's protege. The little motherless girl living so close to Severndale, her home, her circ.u.mstances in such contrast to her own, wakened in Peggy an understanding of what lay almost at her door, and so many trips were made to the little farm-house that spring that Shashai and Tzaritza often started in that direction of their own accord when Peggy set forth upon one of her outings.

And meanwhile, over in the hospital, Dunmore was growing weaker and weaker as the advancing springtide was bringing to Nelly Bolivar renewed health and strength, so strangely are things ordered in this world, and with Easter the brave spirit took its flight, leaving many to mourn the lad whom all had so loved. For some time the shadow of his pa.s.sing lay upon the Academy, then spring athletics absorbed every one's interest and Ralph made the crew, to Polly's intense delight. In May he rowed on the plebe crew against a high school crew and beat them "to a standstill." Then came rehearsal for the show to be given by the Masqueraders, the mids.h.i.+pmen's dramatic a.s.sociation, and at this occurred something which would have been p.r.o.nounced utterly impossible had the world's opinion been asked. The show was to be given the last week in May.

Mr. Harold and Mr. Stewart would arrive a few days before, each on a month's leave. As Happy was one of the moving spirits of the show, he was up to his eyes in business. Clever in everything he undertook, he was especially talented in music, playing well and composing in no mediocre manner. He had written practically all the score of the musical comedy to be given by the Masqueraders, and among other features, a whistling chorus.

Now if there was one thing Polly could do it was whistle. Indeed, she insisted that it was her only accomplishment and many a happy little impromptu concert was given in Middies' Haven with Happy's guitar, Shortie's mandolin and Durand's violin.

Of course, all the characters in the play were taken by the boys, many of them making perfectly fascinating girls, but when the whistling chorus was written by Happy, Polly was no small aid to him, and again and again this chorus was rehea.r.s.ed in Middies' Haven, sometimes by a few of the number who would compose it, and again by the entire number; the star performer being a little chap from Ralph's cla.s.s whose voice still held its boyish treble and whose whistle was like a bird's notes.

Naturally, Polly had learned the entire score, for one afternoon during the past autumn while the girls were riding through the beautiful woodlands near Severndale, Polly had whistled an answer to a bob-white's call. So perfect had been her mimicry that the bird had been completely deceived and answering repeatedly, had walked almost up to Silver Star's feet. Peggy was enraptured, and then learned that Polly could mimic many bird calls, and whistle as sweetly as the birds themselves. Peggy had lost no time in making this known to the boys, much to Polly's embarra.s.sment, but the outcome had been the delightful little concerts, and Happy had made the various bird notes the theme of his bird chorus.

It was a wonderfully pretty thing and bound to make a big hit, so all agreed. Consequently, little Van Nostrand had been drilled until he declared he woke himself up in the night whistling, and so the days sped away. Mr. Harold and Daddy Neil had arrived and the morning of the Masqueraders' show dawned. In less than twelve hours the bird chorus would be on the stage whistling Polly's bird notes. Then Wharton Van Nostrand fell ill with tonsilitis and was packed off to the hospital!

Happy was desperate. Who under the sun would take his part? There was not another man whose voice was like Wharton's. Happy flew about like a distracted hen, at length rus.h.i.+ng to Mrs. Harold and begging her to give him just TEN minutes private interview.

"Why, what under the sun do you want, Happy?" she asked, going into her own room and debarring all the others whose curiosity was at the snapping point. When they emerged Happy's face was brimful of glee, but Mrs. Harold warned:

"Mind the promise is only conditional: If Polly says 'yes' well and good, but if you let the secret out you and I will be enemies forevermore."

CHAPTER XIII

THE MASQUERADERS' SHOW

It was the night of the Masqueraders' Show. The auditorium was packed, for Annapolis was thronged with the relatives of the graduating cla.s.s as well as hundreds of visitors.

Among others were Polly Howland's mother, her married sister Constance, and her brother-in-law, Harry Hunter, now an ensign. They had been married at Polly's home in Montgentian, N.J., almost a year ago. Harry Hunter had graduated from the Academy the year Happy and his cla.s.s were plebes, and had been the two-striper of the company of which Wheedles was now the two-striper. His return to Annapolis with his lovely young wife was the signal for all manner of festive doings, and it need hardly be added that Mrs. Harold's party had a row of seats which commanded every corner of the stage. Mr. Stewart and Peggy were of the party, of course, and anything radiating more perfect happiness than Peggy's face that night it would have been hard to find. Was not Daddy Neil beside her, and in her private opinion the finest looking officer present?

Again and again as she sat next him she slipped her hand into his to give it a rapturous little squeeze. Nor was "Daddy Neil" lacking in appreciation of the favors of the G.o.ds. The young girl sitting at his side, in spite of her modesty and utter lack of self-consciousness, was quite charming enough to make any parent's heart thrill with pride. With her exceptional tact, Mrs. Harold had won Harrison's favor, Harrison p.r.o.nouncing her: "A real, born lady, more like your own ma than any one you've met up with since you lost her; SHE was one perfect lady if one ever lived."

It had been rather a delicate position for Mrs. Harold to a.s.sume, that of unauthorized guardian and counsellor to this young girl who had come into her life by such an odd chance, but Mrs. Harold seemed to be born to mother all the world, and subtly Harrison recognized the fact that Peggy was growing beyond her care and guidance, and the thousand little amenities of the social world in which she would so soon move and have her being. For more than a year this knowledge had been a source of disquietude to the good soul who for eight years had guarded her little charge so faithfully, and she had often confided to Mammy Lucy:

"That child is getting clear beyond ME. She's growin' up that fast it fair takes my breath away, and she knows more right now in five minutes than I ever knew in my whole life, though 'twouldn't never in this world do to let her suspicion it."

Consequently, once having sized up Mrs. Harold, and fully decided as the months rolled by that she "weren't no meddlesome busybody, a-trying to run things," she was only too glad to ask her advice in many instances, and Peggy's toilet this evening was one of them. Poor old Harrison had begun to find the intricacies of a young girl's toilet a trifle too complex for her, and had gone to Mrs. Harold for advice. The manner in which it was given removed any lingering vestige of doubt remaining in Harrison's soul, and tonight Peggy was a vision of girlish loveliness in a soft pink crepe meteor made with a baby waist, the round neck frilled with the softest lace, the little puffed sleeves edged with it, and a "Madam b.u.t.terfly" sash and bow of the crepe encircling her lithe waist.

Her hair was drawn loosely back and tied a la pompadour with a bow of pink satin ribbon, another gathering in the rich, soft abundance of it just below the neck.

By chance she sat between Mrs. Howland and her father, Mrs. Harold was next Mrs. Howland, with Mr. Harold, Constance and Snap just beyond, and Polly at the very end of the seat, though why she had slipped there Mrs.

Howland could not understand.

Peggy had instantly been attracted to Mrs. Howland and had fallen in love with Constance as only a young girl can give way to her admiration for another several years her senior. But there was nothing of the foolish "crush" in her att.i.tude: it was the wholesome admiration of a normal girl, and Constance was quick to feel it. Mrs. Howland was smaller and daintier than Mrs. Harold, though in other ways there was a striking resemblance between these two sisters. Mrs. Harold, largely as the result of having lived among people in the service, was prompt, decisive of action, and rather commanding in manner, though possessing a most tender, sympathetic heart. Mrs. Howland, whose whole life had been spent in her home, with the exception of the trips taken with her husband and children when they were young, for she had been a widow many years, had a rather retiring manner, gentle and lovable, and, as Peggy thought, altogether adorable, for her manner with Polly was tenderness itself, and Polly's love for her mother was constantly manifested in a thousand little affectionate acts. She had a little trick of running up to her and half crying, half crooning:

"Let me play c.o.o.ney-kitten and get close," and then nestling her sunny head into her mother's neck, where the darker head invariably snuggled down against it and a caressing hand stroked the spun gold as a gentle voice said:

"Mother's sun-child. The little daughter who helps fill her world with light." Polly loved to hear those words and Peggy thought how dear it must be to have some claim to such a tender love and know that one meant so much to the joy and happiness of another.

Mrs. Harold had written a great deal of Peggy's history to this sister, so Mrs. Howland felt by no means a stranger to the young girl beside her, and her heart was full of sympathy when she thought of her lonely life in spite of all this world had given her of worldly goods.

Meantime the little opera opened with a das.h.i.+ng chorus, a ballet composed, apparently, of about fifty fetching young girls, gowned in the most up-to-date costumes, wearing large picture hats which were the envy of many a real feminine heart in the audience, and carrying green parsols with long sticks and fascinating ta.s.sles. Oh, the costumer knew his business and those dainty high-heeled French slippers seemed at least five sizes smaller than they really were as they tripped so lightly through the mazes of the ballet. But alack! the illusion was just a TRIFLE dispelled when the ballet-girls broke into a rollicking chorus, for some of those voices boomed across the auditorium with an undoubtable masculine power.

Nevertheless, the ballet was encored until the poor dancers were mopping rouge-tinged perspiration from their faces. One scene followed another in rapid order, all going off without a hitch until the curtain fell upon the first act, and during the interval and general bustle of friend greeting friend Polly and Mrs. Harold disappeared. At first, Mrs.

Howland was not aware of their absence, then becoming alive to it she asked:

"Connie, dear, what has become of Aunt Janet and Polly?"

"I am sure I don't know, mother. They were here only a moment ago,"

answered Constance.

"I saw them go off with Happy, beating it for all they were worth toward the wings, Carissima," answered Snap, using for Mrs. Howland the name he had given her when he first met her, for this splendid big son-in-law loved her as though she were his own mother, and that love was returned in full.

"Peggy, dear, can you enlighten us?" asked Mrs. Howland looking at the girl beside her, for her lips were twitching and her eyes a-twinkle.