“what do you think?” cried jean one morning as she came from the big cabin to find nan drowsily swinging in a hammock under a big butternut tree. “we’re going to have a birthday party, a double one. day after to-morrow is dr. paul’s birthday and it’s jo’s, too, so we’re going to get up some sort of funny stunts, have a feast, and in the evening a straw ride.”
nan roused herself. “what kind of stunts?” she asked.
“oh, almost anything. we are going to dress up in costume, for one thing.”
“where do we get costumes, pray?”
“oh, we’ll manage. ’lish is going to take us all over in the wagon to davis’s store and we’ll see what we can find.”
“i think that will be fun,” said nan. she loved this sort of thing.
“why didn’t you come over where we all were?” asked jean. “they told me to go find you and tell you about it.”
[250]“how could i know what they were talking about?” returned nan, getting out of the hammock and making her way to where the group had gathered on the porch.
“come on, nan; we missed you,” cried daniella. “we’re having a lovely time. where were you?”
“oh, just over there in the hammock.”
“dreaming as usual, i suppose,” said mary lee. “i believe nan is training to be a poetess; she spends so much time flocking by herself in wooded nooks and shady dells.”
“all the flocking by yourself in the world wouldn’t make you poetical, mary lee,” retorted nan. “what’s up, girls? give us the programme.”
“oh, nothing definite has been arranged. we thought it would be fun to dress up in the evening and have a little dance. miss marshall says we may, and for that evening, as long as it is a double birthday, we needn’t have the lights out till ten. we’re all going over to the store to see what we can rake up.” effie gave this information.
“i’ve about decided upon my costume,” jo announced suddenly, “if i can manage to get it together in time. one day isn’t very much notice.”
“we’ll have two days, counting the birthday,[251] for the thing won’t come off till evening,” said mary lee.
“that’s so. well, i think maybe i can manage it if—but never mind, we mustn’t tell, you know.”
“i know what i shall do,” exclaimed jack. “i wish mr. wells would hurry and come.”
“i think he’ll be along pretty soon,” dr. paul told her. “if he had known that such an exciting plan was to be talked of he would have come with me.”
it was evident from jack’s speech that she meant to consult the artist about her costume. “i can’t decide till i see him,” she said further.
“come here, jean,” nan called. “i have thought of something for you.” she whispered her suggestion to jean who nodded approvingly.
“you might tell me,” urged jack coaxingly.
“no. can’t do it. everything is a secret now.” jean shook her head.
“we have to buy birthday gifts, too,” said daniella, “but the price is limited. i’ll tell you, nan, what amount we have decided upon.”
“this is very embarrassing, miss jo,” said dr. paul. “suppose we retire to the seat under the tree.” and they beat a hasty retreat.
“we’re going to spend only ten cents apiece on the presents,” mary lee told her sister, “like[252] we did for the christmas gifts in munich. it will be fun to buy trash and make much of it.”
“and the costumes can’t be very elaborate, of course,” effie said. “we shall have to make them up out of such materials as we can find.”
nan knew what she would like to wear, but was not sure that she could manage it. she was so deft with her fingers, so ingenious that she knew she could invent something, given any sort of chance.
“here they come back again, and mr. wells is with them,” announced jack, who was on the watch.
“good!” exclaimed ashby. “now we boys can get some ideas. i have not a notion what to wear. i always was a duffer about such things.”
“what’s all this?” cried mr. wells coming up. “great doings, i hear. let me into the scheme, please.”
“it’s a dress-up party in honor of dr. paul and jo keyes, whose birthdays occur on the same day,” mary lee told him. “we are planning a celebration.”
“and we’re looking to you as an artist to help us fellows out,” ran told him.
“all right. i’m your man. i have a few togs here, so you can take your pick. you are welcome to anything i have.”
[253]“oh, and——” jack looked disappointed. “i wanted you to help me,” she whispered, going up to him.
“and i’ll be delighted to help you,” he returned. “come over here and let’s talk it over.” he led her to one side and she made her request in low tones.
he nodded acquiescence. “of course. i owe you much more than so small a favor in return for sitting so patiently for me.” so as usual jack got out of her dilemma in the easiest way possible.
presently the wagon came rattling up. ’lish looked over the number doubtfully. “ye ain’t all goin’ to ride, be ye?” he asked.
“it does make a pretty big load,” acknowledged mary lee, always concerned for the horses. “suppose some of us walk over and ride back; the rest can ride over and walk back.”
“that’s the way to fix it,” said hartley. “i’m agreeable either way.”
“suppose we men all walk both ways and give the ladies the wagon,” proposed ran.
“oh, you old virginian,” cried mr. wells, “isn’t that just like you? suppose some of the ladies would rather walk one way?”
“i would, i’m sure,” declared jo.
“and i,” daniella spoke up.
[254]jean wasn’t sure. jack thought it depended upon the company she would have. effie would do as the rest did. nan was for walking over, mary lee for walking back. so the party divided and the wagon started off with mary lee, jean, jo and effie for the feminine side; dr. paul and ashby for the masculine.
therefore to nan’s joy she found herself setting out with mr. wells, hartley escorting daniella and ran giving himself up to jack who generally followed nan’s lead. the wagon bumped on ahead and was soon out of sight.
the three mile walk, though a rough one, was generally shady, and those had the best of it who took a time of day which would not give them the sun immediately overhead. the wagon, of course, had reached the little shop before the walking party arrived, and already the counters were strewn with various stuffs. mary lee was buying yards of white cheese cloth, jo was examining red flannel, effie was looking at thin white muslin, while the two men of the party consulted together in low tones on the porch. jean was on the lookout for nan who had suggested her costume.
it was a bewildering time for al davis who told his chums afterward that he “didn’t know as he’d have a mite of stawk left on his shelves after they got through.” every box of gold[255] and silver paint was called for, ribbons were in demand and all sorts of impossible things were inquired for. jo ended by asking for all the old newspapers he had. she wanted a quantity, and a pile of them was put in the wagon. nan had already demanded pasteboard and not being able to secure sheets of this called for as large boxes of pasteboard as could be found.
jo and dr. paul were hustled out of the shop while the gifts were selected; this took so long that the two kept coming back and demanding that a stop be put to purchases. “i don’t propose setting up a shop for myself,” said dr. paul. “you all seem to be buying out the establishment. mr. davis will think we are going to start a rival concern.”
al laughed, and “cal’lated” he wasn’t “scairt”; he “ruther guessed he’d be there some time yet.”
at last all came out, each clutching a parcel, and the start back was made, though mr. wells gave up his place to jean who complained of the sun, and so to nan fell ran’s companionship on the way back. she forced herself to be gay although it was bitter to see mr. wells walk off with jo when she had counted on his society. she could have shaken jean for her little affectation of not being able to stand the[256] sun. “jean always was a self-indulgent little piece,” she told herself. “there was room enough, anyway. i don’t see why he couldn’t have come. i didn’t dare make a point of it.”
all this while ran was saying, “i say, nan, this is jolly. somehow i don’t see as much of you as i expected; you are always off somewhere with one of those older fellows. i suppose you are too grown-up to want to go around with anything under twenty-one. girls always are grown up before boys, but never mind, i’ll get there.”
“what nonsense, ran,” said nan. “of course age has nothing to do with it. we all roam around together. nobody selects one in particular.”
“it seems to me there is a mighty good deal of twosing,” returned ran.
“have you chosen your costume?” asked nan willing to change the subject.
“not exactly. wells wants us to come up this afternoon while you girls are at work on your things; then we can decide better.”
“i’m sure he will be able to make suggestions,” returned nan. “with a twist or two of a bit of stuff he can make a thing look just right, and he has no end of odds and ends he keeps in an old chest.”
“oh, i don’t doubt but we shall do,” replied[257] ran not any too well pleased to hear praise of the artist.
as was generally the case, more than her share fell to nan’s lot. her own dress turned out to be more intricate than she had expected, then there was jean’s to see to. moreover jo got into a muddle over hers and came to nan in despair to help her out, but by turning over the sewing of jean’s to her mother, nan managed to get all done, though it kept her busy every minute, yet she felt the result was worth the effort.
there was a great skirmishing about and running from one tent to the other after supper. many shrieks of: “don’t come in!” many suppressed giggles but at last all were ready to troop to the big cabin where dr. paul, who had arrived early, waited with jo. the former was magnificent as a roman senator in toga and laurel wreath while the latter was as saucy a mother goose as could be imagined, in towering hat, red cloak, red shoes with high heels, and under her arm a marvelous goose made of canton flannel and stuffed with the newspapers gathered from the store. these had not proved nearly enough, so all sorts of things supplemented them, pine-needles, moss, excelsior, anything that could be gathered up. it was in the manufacture of the goose that jo’s[258] powers had failed, and when she called upon nan for help, and it was nan who stuffed and pinched and set a stitch here, gave a punch there till a goose of respectable proportions at last was triumphantly completed.
bearing their gifts, the donors met on the porch. the older ladies had begged to be freed from any part in the procession, though nan had made a quakeress of her mother and a martha washington of her aunt helen, these costumes requiring but little trouble. with miss marshall and miss lloyd these constituted the audience, the chaperons, the girls called them.
there was much whispering, giggling and comment outside before the procession was ready to move. “we must have some sort of system about it,” said mary lee, “and not straggle in anyhow.”
“siegfried!” breathed nan as mr. wells, with his fur rugs draped over his shoulders, and a horn slung in place, came up to her.
“brunhilde!” he exclaimed at sight of her helmet, shield and the coat of mail manufactured principally of silver paint. “you are wonderful. i don’t see how you managed.” he looked her up and down admiringly.
“did you guess i would be brunhilde?” she asked shyly.
[259]“not i. did you guess i would be siegfried?”
“no, indeed.”
“isn’t it a coincidence? we must march in together.”
“you tallest ones go in first,” suggested mary lee.
so to the glad call of the “son of the woods” brunhilde and siegfried stepped off followed by daniella as a cow-girl with rough shirt, big felt hat and pistols in her belt, hartley as king of hearts being her escort. over his dress of white, on which red hearts were pasted, he wore a long red cloak, ermine-edged, and on his head a pasteboard crown. mary lee in greek dress came next with ran as a gondolier, then effie as a puritan priscilla and ashby as a pierrot. the twins brought up the rear, jack in the dress she had worn when sitting for the picture and jean as a brownie, her eyes opened very wide and her mouth stretched in a set smile. a peaked cap with cape covered her head and shoulders, and her body was clothed with the same brown stuff.
nan had an idea in the presentation and improvised a jingle which she started up to the tune of the song in der freischütz when the maidens sing to agathe before her wedding wreath is put on. each girl bobbed a little[260] curtsey as the foolish gifts were presented. gewgaws of the most ornate kind they were. a huge ring with glass setting for dr. paul matched by a brooch of similar style for jo. handkerchiefs of giddy colors and coarse texture, framed pictures, hideously inartistic, and boxes of cheap confectionery. a laugh followed the opening of each gift, and they were displayed in the most obvious manner.
“there’s only one sensible thing in the whole lot,” announced jo holding up a pink pincushion bearing the words: “many happy returns” done with pins. this had been jean’s patient task and she was highly pleased when jo said: “if there’s one thing i never have when i want it, that thing is a pin.”
then came the supper, a special feast set out on the big table.
“what a wonderful cake!” remarked jo, viewing a large iced affair in the centre.
“it had to be big for a double birthday,” jean said. “i hope it is as good as it looks.”
“oh, it is bound to be,” returned jo with cheerful optimism.
“you must cut it,” said dr. paul, when the time came, and he handed her a knife.
with a great flourish jo lifted her knife and brought it down on the iced surface. it did not penetrate an inch. she pressed on harder; still[261] dense resistance. “this is the hardest icing i ever saw,” she remarked. then she began scraping away the icing, beginning to suspect a joke which she discovered in the large tin pan underneath, which had been simply turned upside down and iced over.
“now who is the perpetrator of that?” inquired one and another, but not one could, or would, tell, so to this day it remains a mystery. though if one could have seen ’lish and hetty looking in the window, stuffing their handkerchiefs in their mouths to stifle their chuckles as they tried to catch a glimpse of miss lloyd’s impassive face, it might have been suspected that the joke originated in the kitchen. however it made for much laughter and there was a real birthday cake, if a smaller one. in this was found a ring, a thimble and a coin. to daniella fell the ring, to mary lee the thimble while mr. wells secured the coin.
the straw ride had been postponed until the next evening as it was seen that there would not be time for this and a dance, too, if they were to linger at all over the supper.
“if there is anything i hate to do it is to hurry away from a good feast,” jean had remarked when the programme was being arranged.
“and if there is anything i hate it is to lose any part of a dance,” said mary lee.
[262]“then why crowd all into one evening?” asked one of the boys.
“no reason at all for it,” said jo. “we may as well string it out and have two jollifications instead of one, i say.”
all agreed to this, hence they could tarry at table as long as they wished.
nan had been so busy over her costume that she had not thought much about outside arrangements. “i don’t see how we are going to have a dance without music,” she said to jack who was sitting next her.
“oh, don’t you know?” answered jack. “didn’t you see the big box ’lish brought this afternoon? there’s the music.” she turned her sister’s head around and nan saw standing on a table in the corner a phonograph on which hartley was already placing a record.
“well, i declare,” exclaimed nan. “who thought of that?”
“ran and hartley. they went over to friendship, waylaid noey peakes, got him to send a telegram to portland, for the phonograph, and he brought it over on the stage, then ’lish went for it.”
“what a nice thoughtful thing to do,” nan expressed her approval. “of course, ran,” she answered her cousin who stood asking for the first dance, and if she saw mr. wells turning[263] away with a frown she may have felt a slight pang, though after all she told herself that ran deserved the dance if he wanted it.
“false brunhilde,” said mr. wells to her a little later. “didn’t you know that first dance was mine by all rights?”
“no,” replied she. “ran asked first.”
“but i took it for granted. we were paired off in the procession, so—of course.”
“you mustn’t take everything for granted,” returned nan shaking her head. “suppose i had taken it for granted and you had not, i might have been a wall-flower.”
“you’d never be that,” he returned; “you dance too well. this is mine, anyhow,” and he guided her off in a two-step.
it was the happiest of evenings to more than nan, for after everything had become quiet, jo found a chance to gather her friends around her. “there was never such a birthday for any mother goose,” she said. “all the good times in my life i owe to you dear people, and if i never have any more, i shall at least have the memory of those which no one can rob me of.” and considering that jo was usually a thoughtless person, as well as one little given to sentimentality, it showed that she was much moved.
