Chapter II: Part 2

Billy’s head was bent over a huge bowl of corn flakes when Janie came up behind him and surprised him with a kiss.

“I’m sorry, bub.”

He stopped a moment, and then turned around,

“Okay, Okay! Boy, you went off like a fire siren. Do you still want to go fishing?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then hurry up and finish your breakfast, and let’s get out of here.”

Breakfast was out of the way in a hurry, and Mom offered to do the dishes if the children would make the beds.

James offered some of his best fat worms for the expedition, and was invited to go along. Davey decided he’d go without being invited. Looks were exchanged.

Davey was sort of a problem. He was four years younger than James and six years younger than Bill, but he was included in all their games and plans as an equal. That is, he was almost always included. Every so often he had to be told he was too little or too young.

Mom was most persuasive. “Butch and I would like to have you stay, dear. It would be lonely all morning without you. I thought, after I finished the dishes, I might walk over and see Mrs. William’s dog. Wouldn’t you like to go along?”

But David only looked woebegone. Billy said: “Aw, let him come along. I’ll take care of him.”

“Yes, Mom,” Janie pleaded, “There’s plenty of room, and I know he’ll be quiet and good.” Mrs. Murray consented and the expedition was on its way.

They wore sou’westers and raincoats. They took apples and cookies and bait and a bottle of water. Billy and James rowed and Davey sat in the front seat. Janie sat on the wide seat at the back and kept an eye on the bait.

“Let’s go over to the pond,” she said. “I have a feeling that they might be biting there.”

“Pond, ahoy,” called James, and they set out for the eastern shore of the lake. There were other boats out, and the children occasionally called out a greeting to a neighbor or a fishing acquaintance.

The boys took great sweeps with the oars, and the boat skimmed over the smooth water. Davey called out a warning about the big submerged rocks at the entrance to the pond, and Bill stood up and maneuvered the boat through the shallow rocky channel. Then through the cattails, the boat parted them as a comb parts hair. They swished and fell away at either side, and now, the pond at last.

Every one reached for his fish pole and selected his bait carefully. There was an almost church-like silence, broken only by the plop of the sinkers hitting the water.

James had the first strike, a bass, and his shrill squeal of delight must have been heard half way across the lake. He tossed it across to Janie, who dropped it into the basket.

Bill caught the next bass and Janie got the third. Fishing was really good, and in no time the basket was half full of flopping, slippery bass.

Davey had been lying flat on his stomach across the front of the boat, concentrating on some mysterious bubbles rising beside one of the big flat rocks. All of a sudden he let out a yell, and every one turned to see him pulling for all his might.

“Help! Help! Something is pulling my line away! Help! It’s awfully strong.”

Billy was beside him in an instant and grabbed the line. James fell down beside them and held Davey’s feet to keep him from going overboard, and Janie added to the commotion by jumping up and down and screaming: “Don’t tip the boat! Don’t tip the boat!”

Billy and Davey pulled with all their strength, and then out of the water there appeared a great, thrashing rubber-backed turtle!

He was securely hooked at the side of his leathery jaw, and he glared at his captors out of his little beady eyes, and he lashed the water like a twenty pound carp.

“Pull him in! Pull him in,” screamed James.

“No, no,” screamed Janie. “He’ll bite us!”

Bill played out a little more line and said, reasonably, “Every body sit down, and let’s figure out what to do.”

“He’s mine,” said Davey, in almost unbearable excitement. “I caught him, and I’m going to bring him home.”

“Why don’t you let him go?” said James. “That hook must be hurting his mouth.”

“Not so much as you think,” Janie offered. “I’ve heard Daddy say that the skin around a fish’s mouth is very tough, and a turtle’s must be even tougher. Anyway, we can’t get the hook out here, and we can’t cut the line and let him go off by himself with the hook sticking in him. I tell you what! Let’s tow him home!”

“Good idea,” exclaimed Bill, and they set about fastening the monster to the back of the boat. He was about three feet long and two feet across, and not at all agreeable. He tossed and yanked at the rope and it took both Billy and David to fasten him to the boat, while Janie rowed carefully out through the rocky channel. James waded behind, urging him along with a stick. They wouldn’t have been able to do anything with him at all, except that they made a sort of harness for him out of a length of clothes line. Billy used his cub scout knots and was quite proud of the result.

When they reached the main body of the lake James had to jump in, and by that time it had stopped raining, and was as steaming hot as could be. Rain coats and hats were quickly shed as they started back across the lake for home.

Old rubber-back tussled away at the line for all he was worth, and Billy was really worried. “You know,” he said, “I’ve read about boats being towed out to sea by giant turtles.”

“Aw shucks, Bill, you read too much,” said James. “Besides that was in the south seas. They have much bigger turtles there.”

“Just the same, I think this guy is pulling us off our course. I tell you what. Let’s haul him in the boat, and then we can make better time.”

“Nix, nix, nothing doing, my friend,” came firmly from Janie. “I promised Mom I’d see that Davey got home safely, and if you two boys start hauling a turtle into the boat, anything might happen.”

“Golly, Jane,” said Bill. “We’ll never get home this way. I’m pulling on the oars just as hard as I can, and he pulls as hard as he can in the opposite direction.”

The turtle settled it. Just as they spoke, he gave a lurch that pulled the boat out toward the center of the lake. Janie looked concerned. “Okay,” she said, “but please let’s be careful.”

Davey sat down in his place on the front seat and Janie took the oars, while the two boys knelt on the wide seat at the back, and rolled up their sleeves for the big pull. They braced themselves and pulled for all they were worth, and the old turtle came slowly up until his nose was against the boat. James reached down and grabbed him at one side of his shell and then Bill got the other side, and with a mighty heave they hauled him over the edge, and thrust him back into the boat. There he lay on his back, helpless, with his legs frantically clawing in all directions, and his wicked mouth opening and shutting.

Janie clung to the oars like mad and as the turtle hit the floor boards her feet flew up in the air, and one leg was perched safely at either rail of the boat. Davey was goggle-eyed and Bill was the first to recover his speech. He clapped Janie on the shoulder:

“Relax skipper. You can put your feet down now. He won’t bite you. He’s helpless as long as he’s flat on his back.”

“Oh no,” quavered Janie. “I’m taking no chances,” and she pulled her knees up under her chin.

“Well, all right then,” said Bill. “You get up there in front with Davey and I’ll row. It’s going to be hard rowing with so much weight at one end, but there’s no use telling you to walk past ‘old rubber-back’ to get to your seat.”

Janie gratefully gave up her position at the oars and went to sit with Davey at the front. “Golly, Jane,” he said. “What do you think of him? Isn’t he giant?”

“He sure is, honey,” said Jane, patting him on the back. “He sure is.”

They were coming along the eastern shore of the lake now and the steamy heat was making everyone thirsty. “Any water left back there, James?” called Bill.

“No, not a drop. I’m thirsty too.”

Billy took a long look at the distant pier that meant home and wet his lips.

“Boy, I’m thirsty. I tell you what let’s do. There’s a pump in the front yard of the haunted house. Let’s stop there and get a cold drink.”

This suggestion was strongly approved by the others, and Billy turned in at the ramshackle pier of the deserted house. Folks around Oak Lake called it the Mott place, but Dad said that no one had lived there for forty or fifty years. Ben, the handy man, said it was haunted, and Janie always shivered a little as she went past it, even on a bright sunny day like this one. It was a full three stories high, with turrets and gables and balconies. The decorations around the eaves looked like the ornamental icing on a wedding cake. It must have been very grand when it was new and nicely cared for. You could still see the outlines of the old gardens, but the flowers were long since choked out by the tall weeds. There was a fountain in the front yard too, rusty and dry. The figure of a little girl stood in the top basin. She was fat and dimpled and she held a protesting duck in her arms ... an iron one, of course. She must have stood there summer and winter for fifty years, and yet, somehow she didn’t look lonesome or unhappy. Ben said there used to be an elaborate group of stables on the place, but they burned down long ago. All that was left of the out-buildings was a small shack covered with tar paper. There was an evergreen windbreak all along the north side of the property, and the branches swayed and sighed in the wind. Janie really shivered this time.

“B’r’r’r,” she said. “This is the lonesomest place I ever saw. Let’s get out of here.”

“Aw,” said James, “you always talk just like a girl.” “There’s the pump,” called Bill. “I see it down there in those tall weeds. I’m so thirsty, I could drink a gallon.”

The boat nosed into the pier, and Davey was the first to step ashore. He raced over the wobbly boards and toward the pump calling, “First drink! First drink!”

Janie was at his heels and the boys stopped only long enough to fasten the boat and pick up the water bottle. Janie pumped until the water ran cold, and they splashed their faces with it and took long drinks.

Bill filled the bottle, and they started back for the boat, when suddenly out of the tumble down shack there appeared a big, ragged and dirty man. He waved his arms in the air and shouted at them,

“Get out of here, you trespassers, you! Get out of here or I’ll whale the daylights out of you!”

The children just stood for a moment, too frightened to move. He started toward them, waving a stick and shouting, and Janie said, “The boat! Hurry, we must get to the boat.”

They ran like the wind, and long-legged James got there first and had the boat untied in the wink of an eye.

The horrid man was gaining on them now, still shouting and waving his stick in the air. Janie leaped over the turtle and grabbed one oar and Billy took the other. James held Davey.

“Push, James! Push! We’re stuck,” yelled Bill frantically. James reached out to grab the pier and push the boat off, and just then there was a violent commotion in the weeds. Charging down upon them in full fury came a wicked looking goat. His head was lowered and his sharp curled horns were thrust out. James pushed desperately to loosen the boat, and the weight of the goat and the shove were all the rackety old pier could take.

It collapsed into the water with a great splash, and down went the goat in a tangle of horns and whiskers and loose boards. The children gasped and then James screamed,

“Row! Row for your life!” And the boat shot out into the lake and out of reach of the bedraggled goat and the angry man.

They made the distance home in record time, and almost cried with relief when at last they reached their own pier.

“Boy!” said Billy. “That was a close one. I’ll never go near that place again.”

_Chapter Five_

_Grandma Always Brought Presents_

Davey wanted to carry the turtle in single handed, but he was voted down and instead he was given the honor of bringing Mom down to surprise her.

“Old rubber-back” had been turned right side up again, and he sat quietly on the floor boards, all tired out from his struggle. Mom came hurrying down, escorted by the beaming Davey.

“Where’s the turtle?” she called.

“Oh, my goodness, it’s as big as a house!”

“Why it’s immense!”

“How did you ever land him?”

“What will Dad say?”

Everyone answered at once and even Mrs. Landry, their neighbor, came over to see the catch. She volunteered the use of her big wash tub as a temporary tank. A man who was visiting at Williams took the fish hook out of the turtle’s jaw, and after that he seemed quite contented in his new home. They decided to keep him until Daddy could get out to see him.

Everyone raced for the porch when Mom mentioned food. They were sprawled about in comfortable chairs finishing their lunch and laughing and talking, when all of a sudden Janie exclaimed,

“Mom, something awful happened this afternoon.”

Then she told of their adventure at the deserted house. Mom looked serious. “Oh dear, you must never go near that place again. That man is sort of an old hermit. He lives there in a chicken coop with his goat. You must be kind to him, but it would be a good idea to keep out of his way.”

“Don’t worry, Mom, we will,” said Billy, and the others agreed.

By and by the boys drifted out to the front yard to play ball. Mom sat in the lawn swing watching the sunset, and Janie read the evening paper.

Far down the road there appeared a small black car. It came closer and closer around the curve, and finally stopped at the Murray gate.

“Toot Toot!”

“Grandma!”

“Aunt Claire!”

“Daddy rode out with them!”

“We have the little cottage all ready for you!”

In the midst of all the excited greeting Mom said, “Let’s go down to the porch. Janie, you make a pot of tea for your grandmother. Boys, you help with the boxes and bags.”

There never was anything like Grandma and Aunt Claire moving out to the lake for the season. In addition to the normal load the car held a portable sewing machine, a portable phonograph, Aunt Claire’s oil paints and her water colors. There were boxes of yarn for knitting, sewing materials, and stacks of magazines containing serial stories that Grandma hadn’t quite finished reading in town. There was Aunt Claire’s fishing tackle, her camera, and Grandma’s canary bird. There were always presents for everyone, and this time was no exception.

After Grandma had finished her tea and everyone had inspected and admired “old rubber-back”, the family was assembled once more and the presents were handed out. Mom was first. She received a wide brimmed garden hat. Janie got a new swimming suit. Billy and James each got an elaborate cowboy holster with toy guns, and David found a catching mitt in his package.

Butch had a present too, but where was he? They looked all over the cottage and couldn’t find him. Davey was getting frightened.

“Oh, I hope he didn’t run out on the road,” he said. “He’ll get run over for sure.”

“Come on folks,” called Dad. “Everybody out for the big monkey hunt.”

The family spread out in the front yard calling, “Butch!” “Oh Butch!”

Davey was the first to hear the answering monkey chatter and he called the rest. There was the missing rascal, sitting on the big turtle and riding round and round in the old wash tub!

It was wonderful to have the whole family together again. In the excitement of catching the turtle and losing Butch, the purse on the cottage roof was almost forgotten, but not quite. James remembered, and his eyes grew large.

“Daddy” he cried. “Daddy! Butchie found a purse, and he hid it up on the roof of the little cottage.”

By that time the children were gathered around Dad and were all talking at once.

“Please get it down for us!”

“Mom wouldn’t let us go up there.”

“Please Daddy, can we get it now?”

“Daddy, may I go up with you?”

“Let me, Daddy, please!”

Daddy laughed and put up his arms to defend himself. “Help, help!” he cried. He finally got the story all straightened out, and he was very much interested.

“Just wait till I get some old work pants on,” he said, “and I’ll go up there and look for it while it’s still daylight.”

Billy ran to get a ladder, and the rest of the family gathered around to watch the excitement. Daddy soon came bounding up the rock garden steps in his old work pants. They were frayed and faded and there were spots of at least six different colors of paint, not counting cement, varnish and chair mending glue, but they were Dad’s favorite pants.

He called to Davey. “Send that rascal Butch up here,” he said. He climbed up to the roof of the porch. Butchie scampered up after him, but either he had forgotten where he hid the purse, or else he didn’t want Daddy to find it, because they looked and looked, and Daddy even pried up pieces of roofing, but there was no purse.

“Are you sure he put it up here?” Daddy asked. Billy and Jane said,

“Oh yes, Daddy. It’s surely there, because we saw him carry it up, and Mom was here when he came down. He had it going up, and he didn’t have it coming down. It’s surely there.”

“I’ve looked everywhere,” he said in a baffled sort of way. “Here, catch Butch,” he said, “I’m coming down.”

Butch scurried down the drain pipe, disdaining the ladder. Just as Daddy was about to start down, he hesitated and turned back for just one more look.

He walked over to where the roof of the porch joined the walls of the cottage, and he peered up under the eaves. He squinted his eyes and reached up to feel for an opening. Just then there was an angry roaring like the motors of hundreds of tiny airplanes, and Daddy came down the ladder even faster than Butch had come down the drain pipe. He ran for the front cottage like someone possessed.

“Wasps,” he whooped without slackening his speed or turning his head.

He was gone in such a hurry that they all stood gaping after him. Mr. Landry, who had been strolling down the road, stopped still in amazement. He took his pipe out of his mouth and said to Mom, “You know, Mrs. Murray, I didn’t know that a big man like your husband could run that fast.”

“He probably did break a record,” Mom said, “but he was urged on by a nest of wasps.”

They hurried down to the cottage to find Daddy safe behind the screen door. His frustrated pursuers had scattered angrily and given up the chase.

“Whew,” he gasped. “I haven’t had so much exercise since the time the Indians chased me out of town.”

“Did the Indians chase you out of town?” asked Davey. “Tell us about it.”

Daddy laughed. “I was only fooling,” he said, “but those wasps weren’t. Boy! Did I have a close shave! I tell you what we’ll do. Wait till the next time I come out, and I’ll get set for those man-eating monsters. If there’s a purse up on that roof, I’ll get it down. But--” and he wagged his finger all around the porch, “don’t any of you try to get up there while I’m gone. You all saw what almost happened to me. It’s much too dangerous.” One by one the faces, all solemn now, nodded in agreement.

The sun slipped down behind the woods on the west shore. Grandma and Aunt Claire went back to the little cottage to unpack.

“Tell us about the time you were chased by Indians, Daddy,” said the persistent David.

“No, Dad,” said Jane. “Please tell us about the deserted house.”

“Do you really want to hear about the deserted house?” asked Dad, pulling David off his shoulders. “I think maybe I could tell you a story about that.”

Janie sat at his feet, and David sat on the arm of his chair. “Well,” he began, “it happened a long time ago. Perhaps sixty or seventy years ago. You know, Oak Lake is a modest place. It always has been. But, just that once, while the Motts lived here it had an air of fashion and frivolity, like stardust sprinkled on bread and butter.

“There was a father and a mother, two pretty little girls that always wore handmade dresses that were made in Paris, and one son. Mr. Mott was a wealthy man, but he had no desire for the rush and competition of the great cities, so he brought his family here to Oak Lake to live. I’ve often thought of how amazed the people around here must have been to see that fine mansion rising in their midst. ‘Mott’s Madness’ they called it. There were stables with thoroughbred horses and a private race track, and a house full of servants.

“Even though they were far away from their friends they entertained in grand style. Twice a year they’d have a party, and their guests arrived from the east in a private car. Why, they even had their own school house. It was a comfortable two-story building a little distance away from the main house, and the governess lived in it.

“The children used to come there every day to study and to practice. One day the two little girls got off by themselves, and waded out into the lake. They didn’t know how to swim, and they drowned. The governess became frantic when she heard their cries, and in trying to save them, she drowned. It was terrible. The mother and father grieved so that they never wanted to see Oak Lake again. They packed their things, and took their son with them. They just walked out and never came back. Everything is the way they left it. It must be almost fifty years now since they went away, but there are dried roses in a vase in the old parlor. There’s an open book on a sofa, left as it was when the reader was interrupted by the cries from the lake. I’m not sure, but I think that the old man who lives there now is their son. He has had a lot of trouble. The family lost all their money. He’s involved in one law suit after the other. It’s no wonder he hates lawyers. After a long time he came back here to live, but he never lived in the big house. He lives in the chicken coop.”

Janie shivered. “Oh Daddy, how perfectly awful. Couldn’t someone do something for him, so he wouldn’t have to live in a chicken coop?” Dad smiled. “Folks have tried to help him,” he said, “but the old fellow is proud and touchy, and he wants to be left alone.”

“He sure does,” exclaimed Billy. “I’ll never forget how he chased us out of there.”

“Keep out of his way,” Daddy said. “That’s the best way to get along with him.” He picked Davey up and carried him to bed. Janie looked at Mom and drew her brows together.

“Mom,” she said. “Do you suppose that’s one of Dad’s stories, or do you suppose that’s really true?”

Mom cut off the end of her thread. “As far as I know,” she said, “that was all absolutely true.”

After a while they wandered back to see how Grandma and Aunt Claire were getting settled. Janie blinked for a moment. The mountainous load was gone and everything was in place.

“Grandma, you’re a wonder,” she exclaimed. “How did you get everything put away so fast?”

Grandma was sitting in her rocking chair, crocheting. The bowl of pansies stood on the table beside her, and her canary chirped over her head. “Petey helped me,” she said, nodding at the canary, “and Aunt Claire helped too.”

Aunt Claire was puzzled about the glass of lemonade beside her bed, and Jane explained.

“Well, it was like this. I picked the pansies for Grandma’s bedside because she likes them so much, and Davey felt that he wanted to do something too. He fixed a glass of lemonade for beside your bed, so that you would have a welcoming present too. I think by now it should be quite stale, but he was happy about it.”

Aunt Claire was touched. “Why the darling,” she said. “I’d drink it gladly, but there seems to be just a tiny spider web across the top. I know what we’ll do. We’ll use it to water Grandma’s window box. Lemons are chock full of vitamins. It should do the geraniums a lot of good.”

So, into the geraniums went Davey’s lemonade. All that summer Janie noticed that they did exceptionally well.

_Chapter Six_

_Buick, the Detective_

Jane sat on the watching post swinging her legs and braiding clover. A small truck stopped at the Saunders’ place next door, and Ben, the handy man who did odd jobs for Mrs. Saunders, got out and lugged a lawn mower after him.

“Hi, Ben,” called Janie. “Is Mrs. Saunders coming out?”

“Hi there, Janie,” Ben called back, and stopped to get his pipe lit. “Yep,” he said. “My wife got a card from Mis’ Saunders just this morning. Says she’s coming out for a few days, and we should cut the grass and tidy the place up a bit. Don’t see what tidying up there’d be to do. The place hasn’t been touched. Not a soul in it since last fall when she was here last, but womenfolks are always drivin’ a man crazy by thinking up work. Washing windows, and cuttin’ grass, and dustin’. Land sakes, it’s enough to kill a man. And me with my back.”

Down the embankment he went with the lawn mower whirring in front of him. Janie couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she could still see the scowl on his face.

“Poor Ben,” she laughed. “If only he didn’t have to work.” She jumped off the watching post, and started off for the garden. “Before I laugh at Ben,” she thought, “I’d better get my own work done.” She weeded four rows of beans, and piled some dry grass cuttings around the base of the tomato plants. Then she sat under the mulberry tree and watched a mother wren dart back and forth feeding her brood on bits of juicy red mulberry. “I guess I’ll try one myself,” she thought. She did, but it was still tart, and not quite ripe.

“Help yourself, Mrs. Wren,” she said. “I hope your babies like them better than I do.”

She wandered back down to the front yard, and held yarn while Grandma wound it into balls. When that was finished she changed into her swimming suit and sat on the pier until it was time to go swimming. Dad and Mom insisted on regular swim periods. The children could go in before lunch in the morning, and again between four and five in the afternoon, but they never could go in at odd times by themselves. The swimming always had to be supervised by a grownup.

“You can’t be too careful,” Dad would always say. “You only drown once.”

Ben was busy all morning, and about noon Mrs. Saunders arrived. Mom sent Janie over.

“See if she won’t come over and have lunch with us,” she said.

Mrs. Saunders said “Thank you,” but she was expecting company in the afternoon, and she had a lot of unpacking to do.

The children loved Mrs. Saunders. She was easily the most fabulous neighbor that the Murrays ever had. A quiet, gentle widow, she had inherited a modest sheaf of stocks and bonds from her late husband, but they weren’t ordinary, dry-as-dust stocks and bonds. She owned part of a candy factory.

“Creepers,” Billy exclaimed every time he saw her. “Imagine having all the candy you could eat!”

Mrs. Saunders didn’t come to her lake cottage very often, but when she did, she always brought candy. Not suckers or caramels or fudge, but candy bars. Time was when Janie thought that one candy bar was riches, but Mrs. Saunders always brought a carton at a time. Mom shook her head as Janie returned, smiling from ear to ear, and carrying the familiar carton.

“Whoops!” cried the boys, but Mom reached for the box and put it on top of the piano.

“No, you don’t,” she said. “Not until every plate is clean. Eat your vegetables first, and then we’ll see about candy.”

They finished their vegetables in record time, and after the dishes were washed they each had a candy bar to eat down under the willow tree. Butch licked the wrappers.

Grandma was taking a nap in the little cottage, and Mom was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the porch rubbing sandpaper back and forth on an old chair. Dad was home that day. He was trying to think, he explained to the children. He’d make awful faces and run his fingers through his hair. Sometimes his face would light up, and he’d write like fury, and then again he would crumple what he had written into a ball and throw it on the floor. Mom scratched at the chair.

“Elizabeth,” Dad said. “Elizabeth, my dear, dear wife, what are you doing to that chair?”

She looked at him through the rungs. “I’m taking the old finish off,” she answered. “I just know that under these layers of paint, it’s walnut or mahogany, or even cherry.”

Daddy picked up his papers. “Elizabeth,” he said. “You scratch away to your heart’s content. I’m going to do my writing out on the terrace.”

“Oh,” said Mom, looking up. “Am I driving you away?”

He made believe he was pulling out his hair. “No,” he gurgled. “You’re driving me cr’razy!”

“I’m so sorry, dear,” said Mom and kept on scratching.

Once established on the terrace, Daddy stretched his legs and started all over again. Buick lay at his feet, sunning himself, and every little while he edged over and licked Daddy’s hand.

“Go home, pooch, beat it!” But Buick only wagged his stump of a tail as if he had heard the music of angels, and he stayed right there. As a matter of fact, he spent so much time with the Murrays that many people weren’t sure whose dog he was.

Things were like that with the Murrays and the Landrys. It was because they were such good friends. There was a gap in the hedge between the two back yards that had never been filled in because someone was always running back and forth. The Murray’s rock garden ran over the lot line and into Landry’s yard, and the flowers flourished there as if they knew they were welcome. Farther down, the pump stood exactly on the lot line and was shared by the two families, and at the water’s edge the Murray bathhouse stood cozily, back to back, with the Landry bathhouse. Bulbs and perennials had been shared and swapped until the gardens looked related, and Mr. Landry’s little grandson, Peter, claimed the Murray swing.

But this afternoon Buick was really making a nuisance of himself. He seemed to want Daddy to get out of his chair and follow him, and poor Daddy was trying so hard to write.

“Go away, go on, get out of here,” he would say. “Beat it or I’ll hit you with a flower pot,” but Buick kept coming back again and again. He would tug at Daddy’s sleeve and then run off a little distance and bark in short quick yelps. He kept this up until Daddy finally said, “Now listen to me, I’m not going to get up and play with you. I’m going to sit here and write. Go away! Can’t you see I’m a working man?”

Janie came around the corner just then and she stopped to watch. “Why, Daddy,” she said. “Something is up. Buick never acts like this. He seems to want to tell you something. Let’s follow him and see what he wants.” Daddy sighed and put a loose brick on top of his work for a paper weight.

“All right, all right,” he said. “I may as well. I’ll have no peace or rest until I do.”

Buick dashed up the rock garden steps, and they followed him across the road and into the back lot. He ran under the hedge near the little cottage and barked and barked.

“What is it, old fellow?” Daddy asked. “What’s the excitement?”

Buick ran under the hedge again and dug furiously with his short front paws. Then he stopped and picked something up in his mouth and hurried out and dropped it at Daddy’s feet.

“The purse!” Jane cried. “Why Daddy, that’s the purse that Butchie found in Mrs. Saunders’ junk pile. We thought it was up on the roof. How do you suppose it got under the hedge?”

“Butchie must have buried it there,” said Daddy, turning it over in his hands. “The sly little rascal didn’t want us to find it, but Buick outguessed him.”

“Open it! Open it!” Jane cried. “Hurry Daddy, I want to see what’s in it.”

Dad snapped it open and emptied it into Janie’s outstretched hands. It was filled with jewelry. Beautiful, old fashioned jewelry. There were two gold rings and a brooch and a locket. There was a small gold bracelet, such as a child might wear.

“Hm’m’m,” said Daddy. “Quite a little swag that our monkey had tucked away.” Janie was almost too surprised to talk.

“Why, Daddy,” she said, “this must belong to Mrs. Saunders. How do you suppose it got tossed out in the junk that way?”

“I can’t imagine,” Daddy answered. “Come on, let’s go and see what she says.” They hurried over and knocked on the door, but she had gone to the bus station to meet her guests and no one was home.

“Let’s show it to Mom,” said Janie, as they walked back to their cottage.

Mom was amazed. The boys were called in and they stood gaping. Grandma came down after taking her nap and she said, “Oh, so that’s what all the barking was about. I wondered what was going on.”

Butchie was terribly excited about finding the purse. He chattered and danced around and stood up and begged in his most persuasive manner. When he finally saw that he wasn’t going to be allowed to keep his treasure, he just plain sulked. Every one watched for Mrs. Saunders to come home and as soon as her car appeared they all ran over.

She was so happy she almost cried. “Why, bless your hearts!” she kept saying, again and again. Then she sat down and spread the jewelry out in her lap. “They were lost last fall when we were cleaning house,” she explained. “I thought they must have been stolen. I had given them up long ago. They were my mother’s rings and I’ve kept them all these years in remembrance of her. It isn’t that any one of them is worth a tremendous amount of money. It’s just because she wore them. Why, I can remember her wearing this garnet brooch just as if it were yesterday. It used to nestle in a white frothy ruffle at her throat, and when she sang in church it would twinkle like a star. This little locket was mine when I was a baby. Oh! I’m so thankful and so happy about this. How can I ever thank you?”

“Butchie really found it,” Davey said. “He found it in your trash heap one day early this summer.”

“Yes, but Buick really deserves the credit,” Janie intervened, “because if he hadn’t discovered the hiding place, Butchie would never have given it up, never.”

Mrs. Saunders kissed them all and cried a little, and then she called them into her kitchen. There was a basket of fruit on the table and she gave Butch a big shiny banana. Then she went to the icebox and cut the bones out of two pieces of steak. “Here,” she said, wrapping them up. “Give these to Buick. He’s a fine smart dog. I want each one of you children to have something too.” She opened her purse and before they could say a word she had given each child a crisp, new one-dollar bill. “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Saunders,” Janie said. “But Mom will never let us keep this. I know she won’t.”

“Oh, yes she will!” Mrs. Saunders assured her. “You’ll never know what it means to me to have my mother’s jewelry again, and you were very good children and you’ll need some money for buying firecrackers pretty soon.” They thanked her again and hurried home.

Sure enough, Mom was distressed about so much money, but Grandma said, “Don’t feel badly about it, Elizabeth. Mrs. Saunders was happy to get her purse back and it gave her a lot of satisfaction to be able to reward the children. People should be allowed to be a little extravagant once in a while. It’s good for them.”

“What are you going to do with your fortune?” Daddy inquired. Janie shook her head. “I don’t know yet,” she answered, “except that I want to spend it all at once and not let it disappear in little dribbles of nickels and dimes.”

“I’m going to buy some ‘minnies’ for casting,” Bill said. “I’ve been looking at some in the hardware store.”

James declared he was going to spend his for a huge model airplane he had long coveted, and Davey said he was going to give his to Butch. “Because Butch really found the purse,” he said, “and all he got was a banana.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Janie, “What would a monkey do with a dollar bill?” But Daddy gave him a hug and said, “That’s right, Davey. You take good care of Butch.”

By four o’clock Aunt Claire’s car came around the bend in the road and sharp-eyed James called out, “Someone is with her, a girl in a white dress. I can see her from here.”

“It’s Katy,” cried Jane, jumping up and down for joy. “It’s Katy. It’s Katherine Pelt.”

The car stopped in the back yard and Billy took Katherine’s suitcase and Janie gave her a quick hug.

Katy was well liked by the Murray children. She was a little older than Janie, small, slim, and dark. The youngest child in a family of six, she was what Daddy called “well socialized.” She was quiet without being shy, jolly without being boisterous, and she never made a nuisance of herself.

“What in the world do you have in that big package?” asked Janie. Katy smiled. “A chicken,” she said. “From my mother to your mother.”

“Hurray!” cried Billy, and David and James began to chant:

“Katy brought a chick-en,
Katy brought a chick-en.”

The little procession came down through the rock garden to the cottage porch. Aunt Claire was amazed to hear about Mrs. Saunders’ purse and she was eager to tell Grandma and Mom all that she had seen and heard in town. Jane took Katy to her room, and then they raced for the bathhouse to get into their swimming suits. Daddy and the boys came swimming too, and the boys all but stood on their heads in order to impress the visitor. Mom and Aunt Claire came out to the raft and there was a lot of shouting and leaping and calling back and forth.

Janie rested by floating on her back. Swimming in the same lake with the boys was enough to make any one want to rest. They were like seals, in and out constantly, diving, splashing and churning the water to a froth with their antics. Billy dove and swam as effortlessly as a fish. Angular James cut through the water swiftly, but his diving wasn’t as accomplished as that of his older brother. Davey was the prize. He still swam “dog-fashion,” and panting and dripping he would wriggle his way up on the raft and shout: “Watch me, fellows! I’m going to jump off.” He would close his eyes, grasp his nose with one hand, and then lifting the other arm high over his head and flexing his knees he would give a mighty leap into the air and land with a splash that would all but take his breath away. One or two performances of that kind would exhaust a grown person, but not Davey. He would leap in and out of the water for an hour at a time, and then say, “Do I hafta?” when it came time for them to go in.

Katy and Jane slept in the big double bed in the corner bedroom that night. There was so much to talk about. Katy had just returned from a trip through New England and when she described the Witch House at Salem, Janie held her breath and shivered.

“Katy! Weren’t you afraid to go in there?”

“No, not in the beginning. It looked just like any other old house. Our guide opened a door and led us down a dark, narrow stairway. I didn’t like it very well, but it was too late to change my mind, because there wasn’t room to turn around. The stairway led to the dungeon where the witches were kept before they were hanged. It was a big dark cellar room lighted by one small barred window. Br’r’rr, I got back up those stairs again as fast as I could.”

“But Katy, how could anyone be so silly as to believe in witches? I’ve always thought a witch was a Hallowe’en decoration.”

“People used to believe in witches long ago. The trouble in Salem started with Tituba, a slave girl, telling stories to some little girls. She told tales of voodoo and black magic, and she must have frightened the children half out of their wits, because when bedtime came they shuddered and screamed and saw things in dark corners. The village doctor was called and he said they were bewitched.”

“But why?” asked Janie. “How could he tell?”

“I don’t know, except that he could see that they didn’t have measles or mumps or anything of that sort, and I suppose he just had to think of something in order to earn his fee. The naughty little girls enjoyed being the center of attention, and when they were questioned they accused Tituba of being a witch, and she was tried and hanged.”

“Oh! How perfectly awful.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t all. The story spread and belief in witchcraft grew until there wasn’t an old lady in Salem who was safe. Even the wife of a minister was accused. When the governor’s wife was suspected the trials came to an end, but not until nineteen persons had been hanged on Gallows Hill and two died in prison.”

“Katy,” quavered Jane. “Turn on the light, and don’t let’s talk about it any more.”

Katy reached for the light switch, and the familiar room clicked into view.

“Now,” said Janie, propping up her pillows, “tell me how you make those little pin curls you have all across the top of your head.”

About ten o’clock Mom opened the door a crack and looked them over. “I know you’re both sound asleep,” she said. “And I know you wouldn’t be interested, but just in case you should be awake, there’s a bottle of cold root beer in the refrigerator.” They tumbled out of bed, giggling and paraded to the kitchen.

Grandma and Aunt Claire said “good night” and started back to the little cottage. Mom turned off the porch lights. They sat in darkness watching the shadows and the bright moonlight on the lawn and on the lake. There was no sound but the whispering of the poplar leaves and the gentle slapping of the waves against the shore. Janie leaned back in the wicker rocking chair and sipped her root beer. Strains of “_Midsummer Night’s Dream_” seemed to float down through the silver night. She wiggled her toes in ecstasy. “It seems a shame to waste a night like this sleeping,” she said. “I’d like to walk forever in the dew and the moonlight.”

Katy broke the spell. She had a deep, sturdy voice, strangely out of place in her slim little body and pixie face. “You’d probably step on a frog,” she said, and they all laughed.

“Rinse out your glasses and run to bed like good children,” said Mom. “There’s going to be a lot of planning to do in the morning. Do you realize that the Fourth of July is only a week off?”

“Ooooooooh!” Janie squealed, giving her mother a big hug. “I like the Fourth of July almost as much as Christmas.” Good nights were whispered once more and in a little while everyone was fast asleep.

James woke the family by falling out of bed. He gave out a roar of indignation and began to beat Billy, who by this time was only half awake. “You pushed me!” he cried. “You kicked me out of bed.” Billy blinked and rolled to the other side of the bed to avoid a pillow in the face. Suddenly James stopped dead. He looked astonished and then he burst out laughing. He laughed so that he bent over double and held his sides.

“You didn’t kick me out of bed,” he gasped. “I dreamed I was riding a horse and the horse kicked me, and I guess I just woke up now.”

Mom called from the foot of the stairs. “If you boys are going to have a roughhouse, I wish you’d have it out on the lawn.”

“I was only dreaming,” James called down. Mrs. Murray sighed. “If that was only a dream,” she said, “may heaven preserve us when you get a nightmare.”

Davey wandered out in his pajamas and inquired if any one had seen his shoes. “Butchie had them last,” he said. “He hid them before I went to bed last night.”

Katy poked Jane in the ribs and Jane dug her head deep into her pillow. “Let’s ask your Mother if we can go in swimming before breakfast. Wake up, sleepy head.” She reached down and tickled the toes of her sleepy victim. With a shriek, Janie was on her feet and wide awake.... The Murrays were off on another day.

Swimming was perfect. The lake was calm as a pond and just cool enough to be bracing. They came in when Mom called “Breakfast,” and raced for the bathhouse, leaving wet foot prints on the boards of the pier. They rubbed each others’ backs vigorously with the big rough towels and ran a comb through their damp curls. “I wish it would be summer all the year round,” said Jane, as she slipped her bare feet into play shoes. She wore a blue cotton skirt and a white blouse. “These are the kind of clothes I like.”

“I don’t know,” said Katherine reasonably. “I like a change. My brother Jim lived in the tropics for two years, and he says that summer all the year round can be very monotonous. I like to bundle up and go tobogganing in the winter, and I like to dress up in a pretty suit and hat for Easter.”

“Yes,” said Janie, “I suppose you’re right.” They hung their towels to dry and walked up to the cottage for breakfast.

Aunt Claire was squeezing orange juice and she looked up as the girls came in. “There’s something down at the farmers’ that might interest you,” she said. “I took a walk this morning before breakfast, and you know that old brown cow he’s had in the front pasture? Well, she has a calf, newly born. It has clean, soft fur like a baby deer, and beautiful big brown eyes, and very wobbly legs.”

The children were delighted and right after breakfast they all trooped down the road to inspect the new arrival. Old mother cow stood patiently chewing grass while they hung over the rail and admired her baby.

“Aw, look at him,” murmured Billy. “Isn’t he cute? I wish I could go in there and stroke him.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” said Janie. “That’s why they have glass partitions in nurseries. Look, but mustn’t touch.”

It was James who saw him first. He glanced down the road and then grabbed Janie by the arm. “Look,” he squeaked. “There he is.... Here he comes.... That man!” They all turned, and there, trudging up the road toward them, was the big, dirty old man who had chased them off his lot the day they caught “old rubber-back.”

“Oh boy!” said Billy, “Let’s run!”

“We can’t run home,” said James. “We’d have to pass him. Let’s cut down through the lower lot and then go home along the shore.” They ducked across the road and then slid down the steep bank that led to the lower lot. By running along one side of a hedge they kept out of sight until they reached the lake shore, and there they stopped for a moment and took off their shoes and socks. After they caught their breath they waded home in the shallow water.

“Are you kids crazy?” asked Katherine. “Why do you have to run like Indians when you see that man?”

“He chased us one day, and threatened to give us a licking just because we took a drink out of his old well,” said Bill. “Mom said we should be kind to him because he had a lot of trouble, but we’re just going to keep far, far away from him. He’s an old crank.”

They sat on their own pier when they reached home and dried their feet in the sun. Mom called from the cottage, “Does anyone want to ride along? We’re going over to Deerpath and do some shopping.”

“Oh happy day!” cried Janie, and she raced ahead of Katy and the boys. She ran to her room and picked up her piggy bank. By inserting the blade of a smooth table knife and by skillful shaking, she extracted one smooth, new paper dollar, a nickel, and three pennies. “My fortune,” she announced proudly. “I’m going to buy fire crackers.”

_Chapter Seven_

_A Trip to Deerpath_

“I don’t know where we’re going to put all of you,” laughed Aunt Claire. “I think this car was originally intended to hold five passengers.”

Grandma got in first, and seated herself comfortably in the back. Billy and Katherine ranged themselves beside her on the seat, and James came panting up at the last minute, carrying a stool and a cushion, so that he could sit on the floor. Grandma counted heads.

“Where’s Davey?” she asked. “Everybody’s here but Davey.”

Just as they called him he came trudging up the steps of the rock garden, carrying Butch. Butch was wearing his best suit, red trousers with a bright, yellow cotton blouse, and a little bright red hat cocked over one eye.

Mom groaned. “Oh, Davey,” she said, “why do you have to bring him along? We’re crowded, and he’s so hard to take care of when we get to Deerpath. Don’t you remember all the trouble we had the last time you took him along? Do you remember how he got away from you and started throwing lemons and oranges around in the store?”

Butch put both hands to his heart in an attitude of prayerful entreaty. Everyone laughed, even Mom.

“Well, all right this time,” she said, “but never again.”

Davey settled down blissfully on Grandma’s lap, and Butch sat on Davey’s lap. They looked like a happy three-layer banana cake.