Chapter V: Part 5

“Great-grandmother carried it proudly over to the open window, and placed it on the sill. ‘You mustn’t come too close,’ she warned the eager children. ‘It’s very hot, and you might burn yourselves.’

“‘Oh please, Mother. When may we have some?’

“‘When your father comes in from the fields at noon.’

“The Indians sat against the wall and smoked silently, and the children played on the floor. Suddenly little Katy pointed and screamed and Mom rushed to the window. There facing her, was a great, shaggy, brown bear! He stood up on his hind legs, and right before her astonished eyes he picked up the pie in his paws and ran off with it.

“Now, your pioneer ancestor didn’t stop to think of the bear as a dangerous animal. All that she knew was that a thief was making off with her precious pie.

“‘Stop!’ she cried, picking up her rolling pin. ‘Don’t you dare run off with my pie!’

“The solemn Indians and the goggle-eyed children followed her outside. Across the clearing they raced, the great upright bear with the pie in his paws, and the angry little woman brandishing her rolling pin.

“‘Stop! Stop!’ she called out. ‘Put that pie down this instant!’

“Then something wonderful happened. The heat of the pie tin penetrated the thick leathery paws of the bear and burned him. With a roar of fright, he dropped the pie and disappeared into the woods at the edge of the clearing.

“Triumphantly, Great-grandmother picked up the pie with the edges of her apron, and bore it back to her admiring family and friends. She cut a small piece for each of the Indians and they went their way. When her husband came in for dinner he roared with laughter.

“‘Janey, Janey,’ he cried, slapping his knee with the palm of his hand. ‘What a wonder you are! I knew that you had complete mastery over me and the children, but I didn’t know that the wild beasts of the forest obeyed you!’

“Ninnecons and Shabeno were profoundly impressed. The story spread through all that part of the country, and from then on, when the Indians spoke of Great-grandmother, they called her Wee-a-gon-hee-meechie, which means ‘small squaw who chased large bear.’”

The fire was almost out. The children stirred sleepily. Daddy rose and helped Mom to her feet.

“Thank you, my dear. That was a very fine story. How does it happen that you know so much about my family?”

“Why that’s very easily explained,” answered Mom. “During the long summer evenings when Grandma and I are sitting on the porch she tells me everything of interest that has happened to the family as far back as she can remember.”

_Chapter Thirteen_

_An Honest Reward_

It was Saturday morning and James lay full length on the wicker davenport reading _Boy’s Life_ and yearning for a really sharp pocketknife so that he could whittle. “Just look at those penguins,” he said to Jane. “Boy, I’d surely like to make some like that.”

Mom was sitting at the end of the long table. She was making her grocery list. “I’ll give a prize,” she announced, “to whichever side has the cleanest bathhouse, the boys or the girls.”

“What is it going to be,” demanded James. “Candy?” Mom continued to write, and answered without raising her eyes. “I don’t know yet what it’s going to be, but I do know that _if_ it’s going to be, there’ll be a clean bathhouse first. My prize goes to the cleanest side.”

“Oh boy,” said Jane. “This is easy. I’ve got the cleanest side to start out with, because Mom and Aunt Claire don’t toss stuff on the floor like you boys do.”

“That’s no fair,” yelled James. “It’s a cheat!”

“It’s not a cheat,” retorted Jane. “I had all sorts of company on my side during the week and they left hairpins and face powder all over the place.”

Mom finished her grocery list and stood up to leave. “Well,” she said. “I’m still offering a prize. If you two would rather argue about it than win it, I’ll give the job to Davey and Bill instead.”

“No, no, Mom. We’ll take it. We’ll go right away,” and they ran in the direction of the bathhouse.

Jane opened the door and got to work. She swept the floor, wiped off the bench and even polished the mirror. While she was hanging fresh towels she called to James.

“Why don’t you hurry? Mom will be back from shopping, and I’ll win.”

“Aw, I could win with both hands tied behind my back. I can clean mine in five minutes and still win.”

He lay flat on the pier, idly kicking the boat back and forth, but all of a sudden he realized that his boasting wouldn’t take him much farther, because Jane had almost finished with her side and he still had everything to do. He sauntered over to the bathhouse, being careful to give the impression of great leisure, just as Jane emerged.

“I’ll win,” she said cockily. “You haven’t got a chance. You started too late.”

“Pooh, pooh,” said the master mind, but the minute her back was turned, he hurried as fast as he could. He was almost finished when Mom returned from shopping. All that was left was a pile of dust in the middle of the floor. Jane had taken the dust pan back to the cottage with her. If he swept it out on the brick steps he would be disqualified. He could pick it up in his hands and stuff it in his pockets, but there were no pockets in this suit. Mom was on her way across the lawn for inspection right this minute.

“Aha,” he thought, in a burst of pure mischief, and as quick as a wink he swept the remaining dust under the partition and over to the girl’s side. Broom in hand and eyes dancing, he stepped outside and bowed to Mom.

“Everything is in order, Mom,” he said. “I get the prize.”

Mom stepped inside the boy’s side and looked around carefully. “Very good,” she said. Then she stepped out and walked around to the girl’s side. She looked around carefully again. James giggled, expecting her to see the joke, but her face was grave as she noticed the dust spread fan-wise from under the partition.

“You have the cleanest bathhouse, James,” she said. “You win the prize,” and she gave him a candy bar.

James gulped. “But Mom....”

She looked at him in a funny sort of way, but she didn’t say any more, and then she walked up toward the house.

Janie was getting ready to go to Deerpath with the Landrys when the prize was announced, so her normal surprise and protest were somewhat muffled in the mild excitement of leaving.

That was the end of it. James felt baffled. He walked around with the candy bar in his hand. What was the matter with Mom? Couldn’t she see a joke?

The rest of the afternoon passed in a dull sort of way. Mom was busy with preparations for Sunday and she didn’t seem to pay any attention to him. Billy and Davey were fishing at the dam and Janie wasn’t home. He walked around with his face squinted up in a frown, kicking at tufts of grass.

“Maybe tonight I can finish my sunset,” he muttered.

Early in the season Aunt Claire gave James a piece of canvas and some tubes of oil paint.

“Paint the sunset,” she encouraged him. “You draw well and we have such beautiful sunsets out here. See what you can do.”

Every evening, as the sun sank, James hauled forth his canvas and brushes. He’d get everything organized for painting. The sun got splashed in the middle of the horizon, an oily red blob surrounded by sausage-like clouds in a glazed blue sky. His nose would wrinkle in a distressed sort of way.

“This isn’t the way Aunt Claire’s sunsets look.”

By the time he had mixed the right shade of purple for the low-banked clouds the sun had disappeared and he’d put everything away until the next evening. The next evening the clouds that had been fat and fluffy were long and wispy, and the rose colored sky of the night before would be changed to gold.

Hurriedly mixing his colors, he’d attempt to change his canvas to match the changed sunset, but again the magic colors eluded him and darkness came before he was finished.

“Creepers, I never can work fast enough. I’ll never finish this thing.”

As the days went by the canvas became more and more covered with paint, but James wasn’t cast down. He was always certain that the next night would see the finished picture.

On this Saturday night there was no sunset, only a solid bank of black storm clouds.

“Make everything fast,” called Dad. “We’re going to have a blow,” and then the sun appeared between a crack in the clouds.

“Hurry, boy, hurry,” called Dad. “Finish your picture.”

James ran for the paints. The many-colored clouds of previous attempts were hastily covered with black and gray. The sun peeped through as always, and a few quick strokes with a clean brush made a golden halo. The trees at the horizon were greenish black, and he finished the broad sweeps of leaden gray that were the lake just as the first rain hit him.

“Hurray,” he exulted. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it,” as he ran for the cottage holding the masterpiece over his head.

“That’s wonderful,” beamed Aunt Claire. “You’ve got real stick-to-it-iveness. You have talent, too, but persistence is more important. Let’s prop your sunset here on the floor against the wall so that everyone can see it.”

All evening James heard nothing but praise and admiration for his black sunset. By bed time he was beginning to feel pretty good, but then he reached his hand in his pocket and felt that old candy bar.

Sunday was always a quiet time at the lake. The grown folks sat around reading and taking naps, and even the children quieted down. Jane drove to church with Daddy and Aunt Claire. She wore her white dress, and her wide-brimmed floppy hat. All the way along there were folks going to church. Cars slid out of side roads and chortled and wheezed down farm lanes. They streamed up hill and down on the road to Deerpath. It would be fun, thought Jane, to watch them from a plane. They would look like a procession of shiny-backed beetles.

The church was crowded with summer people, and Daddy stopped at the door to speak to some folks he knew. Inside, it was dark and cool. The altars were filled with beautiful garden flowers. There were roses during June, and larkspur, then white gladioli and lilies, making the air heavy with their perfume. When the phlox and asters appeared Janie always knew it was time to start thinking about going back to town.

The windows were swung open, and inquisitive sparrows came to the ledge and looked in. Sometimes a fat bee would lumber about in the roses, and then take off, heavily, for the summer world outside. Janie thought of the psalm:

“I have loved, O Lord, the beauty of Thy house,
And the place where Thy glory dwelleth.”

This must be the place, she thought, looking around her, here in a country church, with the doors and windows flung wide, filled with music, and fragrant with the flowers of a country garden.

On the way home they stopped at the drug store to buy a paper. Later breakfast was served on the terrace at the back of the cottage. It was another one of Mom’s romantic ideas. It wasn’t entirely practical. You see, the terrace wasn’t screened. Birds and butterflies entered at their will, also dogs and mosquitos and ordinary flies.

Buick, the neighbor’s dog, always enjoyed having breakfast on the terrace with the Murrays. He strolled over on this particular morning looking around for his old enemy, Butch. Not seeing him, he made straight for Janie’s chair. She absently gave him a piece of her coffee cake, and went on reading the funnies. Aunt Claire was always generous, so Buick looked pathetic and waited. Another piece of coffee cake dropped into his jaws, and he said “Thank-you” in dog fashion, and strolled over to Daddy’s chair.

Now, Daddy didn’t like dogs in general and Buick in particular. Not that he would ever hurt a dog, or even a fly for that matter. He just insulted them by ignoring them, and he was ignoring Buick completely just now. Deep in the sport page, he read with perfect concentration. Buick waited patiently, but no gifts were forthcoming. There was a lovely curled strip of bacon getting cold while Daddy read. It was so close to his moist black nose he could almost touch it. It smelled so good he quivered. Suddenly there was a black streak of flying dog, and a murderous roar out of Daddy. Buick and the bacon were gone.

“Bah!” Daddy fumed, shaking his paper in mock rage. “Butch is right in his instincts about that pup. He’s nothing but a low down bacon snitcher.”

In the afternoon Davey took Butch down to the lake front where they watched “old rubber-back” paddle about in his tub. The boys lay on the pier watching a sailboat race, and Janie took a pillow, an apple, and a book and made for her favorite perch. It was up in the branches of the old willow tree, right at the shore of the lake. The branches were as thick as a man’s arm, and worn smooth with the clambering of the Murray children. Ever since they were little Janie and the boys had played up there. You could see all over the lake. It was cool and quiet, and if you knew just how to prop your pillow, it was comfortable too. She took a big bite of apple and sighed contentedly. This is the kind of a Sunday afternoon I like, she thought.

James walked under her tree perch and glanced up.

“Can I come up, too, if I get a book?”

“You can, but may you?”

“Smarty!”

Jane laughed. “Come ahead. There’s room for the whole family.”

James ran for the cottage to get an apple and a book. The door of his room was closed. It was a pretty nice room, and he was very proud of it. It was always a comfortable place to come back to. As he opened the door he noticed that the radio was turned on and the windows were open. The pillows were plumped up in just the right way for reading. The bedspread was neatly drawn across the bed and the books had been restacked, and ... right in the middle of the room stood an enormous pile of dust!

He turned and ran to the front yard and climbed the tree where Jane was sitting. Much to her astonishment, he handed her a wrinkled, slightly melted candy bar.

_Chapter Fourteen_

_Dad Finds a Treasure_

Billy and Jane sat on the big stone posts at the gate swinging their legs and watching for the mailman. They tried to guess what he would bring.

“James will get his usual letter from that stamp dealer down east,” said Jane. “He will say: ‘Dear Mr. Murray, I received your want list, but you failed to include your money’ or he’ll say: ‘Dear Mr. Murray, I received your dollar and three cents, but you failed to include your want list. Please advise, etc.’” They laughed merrily at absent-minded James and his difficulties, and then Jane heard the familiar squeal of the mailman’s brakes.

“Here he comes,” she cried. “I’ll race you to the mailbox!” They jumped off the posts and ran across the road. Jane had the shorter distance, but Billy won by throwing himself full length on the grass and sliding to touch the post.

“Really, Billy,” panted Jane. “Sometimes you use the foulest and the most unfairest means....”

Billy hooted. “Foulest and unfairest!” Then, imitating her angry voice, he said, “Really, Jane, you use the most unusual adjectives!”

She threw a shoe at him, and he ran away laughing.

The mailman’s car slid in close to the mailbox. He had a brown face, all wrinkled from smiling. He was an usher at the little church in Deerpath, and when he passed the collection plate to Janie on Sunday his eyes crinkled up in a smile just as they did now when he passed the letters from box to box at the lake.

“Here you are, young lady,” he said. “Letters for everybody today.” There was “Popular Mechanics” for the boys, and a letter for Mom from a dress shop. There were some letters for Daddy in long business envelopes and a post card for Davey. At the bottom of the heap was a square envelope addressed to:

Miss Jane Murray,
Oak Lake, Wisconsin.
R. R. 1

“From Dor,” Janie exclaimed, and sat down on the grass to read it.

Hi, Janie,

How are you? I am fine. My mother is going to Michigan tomorrow,
and I’d like to come to visit you for a few days. I will come on
the five o’clock bus,
Your loving friend,
Dor

Janie gathered her mail together and ran down to the cottage with her news. “Here you are, my wonderful family,” she said. “Mail for all of you.” Mom sat down to glance at her letter and the boys tore the wrapper from their magazine. Davey’s post card was from a school friend, and he chuckled at the picture on the cover. It was a garish scene of an over-sized fish leaping into a row boat with a frightened fisherman. “Look,” he said, “at the big fish Greenie caught.”

Janie waited for Mom to finish, and then she burst out with, “May Dor come? I have a letter from her. May she come tomorrow?”

Mom blinked at the suddenness of it all, and put her glasses on the table. “Why yes, of course. I’d be glad to have her. What does she say?” Jane handed her the letter, and she glanced through it quickly. Then she smiled.

“It’s not tomorrow,” she said. “It’s today. This letter was written yesterday. She’ll be out on the five o’clock bus this afternoon.”

The boys were deeply absorbed in a marvelous invention that would make an iceboat out of an old baby carriage. Jane grinned and put her finger to her lips. “Don’t tell them,” she said to Mom. “They weren’t paying attention to what we said.”

She held out her arms for Butch. “Come, my little brown friend. Let’s go down to the pier and catch flies.” She stretched out on the hot boards and dreamed in the sun. Butchie scrambled around on the braces under the pier, snatching at shadows and frightening schools of timid minnows. In a little while the boys came down and jumped into the boat and rowed away. Janie stretched lazily. Two weeks from today, she thought, I’ll be back in school. It doesn’t seem possible. Why the summer has just begun. I don’t like to leave this. The sky will be just as blue when we’re gone, and the water will be just as warm. Of course school won’t be too bad, and this year there’ll be dancing class. I’ll waltz and waltz (she dreamed), in a pink tulle gown, with pale pink ostrich feathers in my hair.

_Bump...._ The boys banged into the pier full force with the boat and Janie sat straight up.

“Hey, hey!” she yelled. “What are you trying to do, break the pier down? Why are you back so soon? I thought you were going fishing.”

The boys laughed at her confusion. “We caught something right away,” said Billy, “so we brought it back. Hold it up James.”

It was a small green turtle. His curved green legs pawed the air as James held him up, and his under shell was red, green, and yellow in a most interesting pattern.

“I’m going to bring him back to town and give him to Robin,” said James. “He can keep him in his bathtub.”

“I guess his Grandmother will have something to say about that,” said Jane primly.

“Well,” James argued, “why should she care if the turtle stays in the bathtub? Turtles are clean. They’re almost the cleanest creatures in the whole world, and she could lift him up if someone wanted to take a bath, couldn’t she?”

“Maybe it’s a snapper,” said Jane. “You wouldn’t like it if Robin’s Grandmother had her finger snapped off by a turtle, would you?”

“Aw,” said James in disgust. “You’re always thinking of something like that,” and gathering his turtle and his fishing tackle up in his arms, he started away. Just as he left the pier he turned and narrowed his eyes. With just one word he summed up what he thought of Jane, her arguments, her ideas, and her contemporaries.

“Dames ...” he said, witheringly.

Janie turned and hid her face in her arms, and laughed until she shook. Then she gathered up Butchie and ran for the cottage.

Grandma was peeling green apples for pie. “Grandma,” she said. “Have you noticed that this summer has been much too short?”

“Yes, Jane. Every summer seems a little shorter than the last. When I was a little girl the summer days seemed to stretch in front of me like years. Now I have so much to do and so much to think about that the years fly past like days.” A long green peeling fell to the floor in the shape of a treble clef, and Grandma’s sharp little paring knife twinkled around another apple. “Your mother had a telephone message,” she said. “It seems that your friend Dor is coming out on the five o’clock bus.”

“Oh goody, oh wonderful, Grandma!” She gave her a hug that sent the little green apples flying all over the porch.

“You wild one,” said Grandma, straightening her glasses. Jane was down on her hands and knees searching for the runaways.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Just for that I’ll stay here and help you peel them.”

The afternoon passed quickly, and at five o’clock Mom drove down to the bus station with Janie beside her and the three curious boys in the back. The passengers got off on the other side of the bus, so they saw their feet and legs first. It was easy to identify Mr. Williams by his brief case. The bus driver helped an old lady off with her suitcase and then a pair of sun-tanned legs swung off the steps and Dor appeared around the corner of the bus.

“It’s Dorothy Dreyer,” cried Billy.

“Dreyer,” squealed James, “with her braces off! Boy! what teeth! A smile like a movie star.” Everybody laughed at that, and they started back for the cottage.

“Oh,” said Janie, “I’m so glad you could come. Let me hold some of your things. What in the world do you have in this one? It’s heavy.”

“Worms,” said the practical Miss Dreyer. “I knew the ground would be dry now, and you’d be running out of bait, so I brought my own bait.” Mom looked a trifle dashed, but the boys beamed on her.

“Dreyer,” said Bill. “You would have made a swell boy.”

They laughed and joked as they carried her stuff down to the cottage. Everyone seemed to feel lighthearted and gay. They sat around the table talking until it was almost dark. Someone started to sing, and they all joined in. Daddy played the piano, and the children made so much noise that Buick heard them next door and started to howl.

After the commotion died down the two girls strolled down to the pier, and sat there dipping their toes in the water and watching the reflection of the stars.

“Do you know what?” Dor asked.

“No, what?”

“I’m going to be a vet.”

“A what?”

“A vet. You know, a horse doctor. I just love horses and dogs, and I’m really very good at taking care of them. I’ve decided to devote my life to them.”

“Pooh,” said Janie inelegantly. “What about the ballet? Last year you said you were going to be a ballerina, and spend the rest of your life on your tiptoes.”

“That was last year,” said Dor patiently. “A lot can happen to a girl’s life in a year.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Janie agreed. Dor stretched out and lay on her back on the pier, looking at the stars overhead.

“What are you going to be, Janie?”

“I’m going to be a frozen corpse if I don’t go into the house and get a sweater. I’m beginning to sneeze.” She started for the cottage. “Do you want to come in or shall I bring a sweater for you?”

“Never mind about a sweater,” Dor said, “but send Billy down with a flashlight. We’ll go hunting frogs.”

Janie curled up on the davenport with an apple and a book. Now and then she would glance up to see the light flash on and off along the shore as Dor and Billy and James pursued their favorite pastime.

“What are those children doing down there?” asked Grandma.

“They’re catching frogs,” Mom answered.

“Catching frogs? Lands sakes! What for?”

“Just for fun. They let them go again.”

Grandma looked puzzled. “They’re really entertaining Dor,” Mom went on. “If she couldn’t have a frog hunt when she came out here for a visit, I’m sure she’d be disappointed.”

Soon after daybreak Billy scratched on Janie’s screen. There was no response. He called softly. Still no response. Then he shouted: “If you lazy girls don’t get up and come fishing with us we’ll go alone.” Janie grunted and Dor stirred. “And,” Billy continued, “we’ll take the worm can, and we’ll use up all the worms.” That helped.

“Wait for us. We’ll be right out.”

They had breakfast at the kitchen sink, and Davey heard them and demanded to go along. Five was a crowd for the row boat, but he looked so eager it was hard to refuse him. “All right,” Billy said, “but sit tight, and don’t catch any turtles.”

They pushed off in the mist. Billy and James took the oars, the girls sat on the back seat, and Davey sat in the front. They decided to try the pond first. Fishing was fair. By nine o’clock they had about a dozen blue gills. Dor was in favor of staying, but the Murrays knew they could do better than that.

“Let’s go to the dam,” said Bill, and they started down along the eastern shore.

They rowed along quietly until Janie pointed to the shore and said, “Look! Look at the smoke! The old man’s lot is on fire!” There was just enough breeze to fan the flames and while they watched the fire spread rapidly.

“Golly,” said Bill. “It’s getting close to the shack. It’s been so dry the last couple of weeks that if the fire gets over there near those old dry boards, everything will go.”

Just then the old man appeared at the door of his shack and saw the grass fire. He grabbed a shovel and began to thump at the flames vigorously. He couldn’t quite catch up with them. As fast as he would get one patch extinguished, another would creep around behind him.

“What are we sitting here for,” asked Dor getting to her feet. “Come on, let’s help him put that fire out.”

Bill looked at Janie, and Janie looked perplexed. James blurted out, “He doesn’t like us. He chased us out of there once, and Daddy and Mom told us to keep out of his way.”

Dor was indignant. “Do you mean to say that your Dad and Mom wouldn’t even let you go in there and throw a pail of water on a fire? Do you mean to say that you’d sit here and watch that old man’s house burn down?” Dor was angry. Janie was angry too.

“His house isn’t burning down. It’s just an old grass fire, and he can see us plain enough. If he wanted us to help he’d say so.”

Almost as if he had heard their words, the old man turned and shouted at them, “Hey there, you young fella in the boat, come in here and help me put this fire out. Can’t you see that it’s getting away from me? Get a move on you!”

Dor answered for the Murrays, “Here we come!” and they pulled for shore with all their might.

Billy and James ran for the pump to get water, and Dor and Janie picked up some loose boards as they ran and beat at the rapidly spreading flames. The heat was intense and the smoke choked them, but they stomped and smothered with all their strength. Davey was sent back to the pump. “You keep pumping,” Billy yelled, “and we’ll run back and forth with the buckets.”

The smoke kept getting in Janie’s eyes, and it hurt so that the tears ran. Her face burned, and she could even feel the heat through the soles of her thin summer shoes. Oh, why didn’t somebody come? They’d all burn up in this dreadful fire. She had forgotten all about her fear of the old man. In the excitement they pounded away at the fire, side by side.

Suddenly she turned and looked up at him. He had stopped and was holding his side. He had a queer expression on his face. He reached out as if to grab something, and then fell at her feet.

“Help! Help!” screamed Janie. “Dor, James, Billy! He’s fainted.”

Dor came leaping over the burned stubble. Her face was a black smudge, and she had a wild look in her eye.

“Throw water on him,” she cried. “Get him out of here!” Billy and James reached under his shoulders, and Janie and Dor caught hold of the strong leather belt at his waist. They pulled and tugged with all their might. He was awfully heavy. Davey yelled from behind them, “Hey kids, the fire is getting bad again.” There was no choice. They dropped the unconscious man and raced back to the fire.

“Davey!” Billy shouted. “You get out of here! Run to the nearest house and get help, and then run home and get Daddy!”

Davey’s short legs disappeared through the smoke, and Janie’s heart sank. One less to pump and to carry water. The old man lay just where they left him. He seemed dead. There was so much smoke in the air they could hardly see each other, and as the flames raced up the tall weed stalks bits of burning grass would fall on their arms and hands. James was sobbing as he pounded away with the flat side of his shovel. Billy was coughing and gasping.

“One more patch,” Dor called out. “This is the last bad spot! If we can put this one out, the others aren’t so bad. It’s reached the lake on one side, and it’s almost at the road on the other.”

They beat at the fire valiantly, and little by little, it gave way. The roaring and the crackling died down. It had almost burned itself out. The smoke was as bad as ever as they raced back to the old man’s side. He was awake now, but he didn’t seem able to move. They tugged and pulled at him and got him to the door of the shack. Billy looked around for a bed, but there was none. There was a cot in the corner, and they pulled it over close to the door and helped him to lie down. Dor found a towel and wiped his face. He smiled at her. He had a sort of nice face when he smiled. “Thank you, young lady,” he said, and looked at her kindly.

“Don’t talk, Mr. Mott,” said Janie. “Lie still and rest. My daddy is coming, and he’ll get a doctor.”

“Doctor? Rest? Pshaw! I never had a doctor in my life. I don’t need to rest. I’m fine now. Fit as a fiddle. I just swallowed a might too much smoke, I guess. I’m fine now, fine.” He tried to get to his feet, but it didn’t work so well, for he faltered and then settled back on the cot again. “I’m fine,” he insisted.

The inside of the shack was poor and incredibly dirty. There was a cook stove in the middle of the floor that smoked. It must have been smoking for years, because the ceiling and walls were black and covered with soot. There were no curtains on the windows. The floor was black, and there was a heap of tools in one corner and a pile of wood in the other. There were a few chairs that looked like the antique chairs that Mom had in the bedrooms at home, but they had no seats and the wood was dark and furry with dirt. Half a loaf of bread stood on a small table together with an empty meat wrapper, half a pound of lard, and a dirty frying pan. A cup and a plate and a knife stood by, looking as if they had been used again and again without washing. Janie groaned as she thought of how she hated to wash dishes. “Dear Lord,” she prayed. “If You get us out of this mess, I’ll never complain about washing dishes again. I never loved and appreciated a clean house as much as I do this minute.”

What a relief to hear Dad’s hearty voice in the yard! Davey scampered along beside him, feeling important. “Well, well, Mr. Mott. You had quite a fire, I see.” He looked at his black-faced children in amazement. “What happened?” he asked. They all started to answer at once.

“Just a minute,” he said, “let Dor tell me.” Dor took a breath and recited what had happened from the first wisp of smoke to the face washing. When she finished Dad looked very serious. “Mom is waiting for you children in the car,” he said. “She’ll drive you home.” They said “Good-by,” and hurried off.

Daddy turned to Mr. Mott. “I think you should have a doctor,” he said. “Will you let me call one for you?” The old man looked feeble lying there, and suddenly he seemed shrunken and pathetic.

“The fact is,” he said, “I haven’t any money. I have no money to call a doctor, and I won’t take charity. My father lived on this land, and now I’m going to lose it because I can’t pay my taxes. It’s a dang shame, that’s what it is.” He blew his nose fiercely.

“Now, Mr. Mott, don’t worry about that now. Lie still and rest a bit.”

“I feel fine now. Pshaw, I just lost my breath in the smoke. It does me good to talk, Mr. Murray. I don’t mind talking.” He sat up on the cot. “I tell you, sir, it isn’t right. They can’t do this to a man. We used to own a whole section of land, and now all I have left is this little piece around the house. I’m going to lose this too, because I can’t pay my taxes. Why, my father owned the finest house in the hereabouts. He owned a good deal of land too. I’ve got some papers over there on the desk I wish you’d look at. They’ll prove what I say is true.” He pointed to a heap of messy looking rubbish piled up on a flat topped desk in the corner. “Right there you’ll find a letter that my father got from the governor of the state in 1852.” Mr. Murray hesitated. “Go on,” urged Mr. Mott. “Find it. I want you to read it.”

The papers were yellow with age, calenders and advertisements for patent medicines were unclassified. There were old bread wrappers and samples of unused wall paper. Finally Mr. Murray found the letter. He took it over to the door and looked at it carefully. He didn’t read it. He just looked at it, and his excitement grew, for marching across the top of the envelope were three dark blue one-cent stamps. There was a portrait of George Washington in the center of each one. The cancellation marks were not heavy, and though they were dusty and old, they were in good condition.

“Mr. Mott,” he said. “Never mind about the letter. I think we’ve found the solution to your problem right here on the envelope.” He pointed to the stamps. “These are valuable,” he said. “I happen to know that they have a catalogue value of one hundred and fifty dollars apiece. You won’t get full value for them, of course, but you’ll get enough money to pay your back taxes, and you’ll save your land. You’ll even have a little money left over.”

Mr. Mott rose up and took the letter and looked at it. He blinked. “Are you sure, Mr. Murray?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he replied. “If you look through your old papers carefully, you may find some more of them. I tell you what we’ll do. As soon as you feel well enough I’ll drive you into town. We’ll go to the stamp dealer who buys these old stamps, and I’m sure he’ll be interested. He’ll most likely pay you a good price. What do you say?”

The old man sat holding the letter in his hands. He turned it around and around. He peered at the stamps closely. “Well, I’ll be jiggered,” he said.

Dad laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “That was just the tonic you needed,” he said. “You look much better already.”

Mr. Mott stood up. His clothes were dirty, but his shoulders squared back and he held his chin up. “The Motts aren’t licked yet,” he said. “Thanks to you, sir, the Motts still own land.”

As Dad started out the door he met the goat coming in. He looked astonished, and stepped to one side. “That’s Mirandy,” said Mr. Mott. “She won’t hurt ye none. You know,” he continued, as the goat ate crumbs from the floor, “you folks have been mighty kind to me, and I’m not going to forget it. No sir, I’m not. I’m going to give you a fine present.”

Dad looked a little flustered. “Why, no, Mr. Mott,” he said. “It wasn’t anything at all that you wouldn’t have done for a neighbor.”

“No sirree, you did me a good turn, and one of these days you’re going to get a present.”

Dad shook hands for good-by, and chuckled as he started off down the road for home. He was still chuckling when he talked to Mom about it. “The old gentleman perked right up. He even wanted to give me a present, although what he could spare, I can’t imagine.”

“Perhaps he’ll give you one of his old stamps,” said Billy.

Dad looked pleased, but he tried hard not to show it. “Here we go again,” he said, “getting romantic. I wouldn’t mind having some of the stuff he’s got. I’d like to go through that scrap heap of his more carefully.”

_Chapter Fifteen_

_Good-by Summer_

Summer was almost over. The winding country roads were banked with golden rod and purple asters. The hidden silk of the milkweed floated like fairy wings on the still air. Mom canned peaches and tomatoes, and Aunt Claire pushed and coaxed crooked little pickles into jars.

Martins gathered on the telephone wires at the side of the road. There were mothers and fathers and uncles and aunts and many, many children. They chirped and twittered without end. The young ones darted about constantly as if to say:

“Enough of this talk, and these endless plans. Come, let us be off. See what a fine flier I am. See how cleverly I use my wings.”

The braggart would circle and dip, but he’d soon be back pushing his brothers about rudely to make a place for himself. Sometimes they all started off at once, and the sky was filled with the rushing of wings. Janie strained her eyes after them and sighed,

“If I could only fly along. What sights they must see! What wonderful adventures they must have! Good-by, good-by, until next summer.”

They disappeared in the distance, but early the next morning they were back again, like a bar of music against the sky. One day, of course, they would really leave.

The stove was squat and shiny, like a little old lady in a black taffeta dress. It crackled and glowed, and the curved sheet iron back got slightly pink. The copper tea-kettle on top quivered and spit like an angry cat. Mist hung over the lake and the grass was wet with dew. Uncle Jim, who had lived in China, always described the weather as a one-coat day or a two-coat day. Late August mornings at Oak Lake were one-coat. Breakfast time was one sweater, and by nine o’clock it was hot and clear with shivers and sweaters forgotten.

Mr. Murray took Mr. Mott to the stamp dealer who was pleased as he could be about the rare old stamps. He paid him one hundred and fifty dollars for the three that Daddy found the day of the fire, and offered to buy any more that might turn up. The old man was overjoyed. He paid his delinquent taxes and bought a coaster wagon full of provisions at the store. Everyone ran to the gate to watch him come down the road. Mirandy was hitched to the wagon, and she tripped along with her head high and her whisker waving in the breeze. Her eyelashes dropped demurely, and a stranger looking at her would never have guessed that she was as temperamental as an opera singer and as wicked as sin. Mr. Mott wore a new shirt, violently plaid.

“Good morning,” he called, bowing and smiling. “Good morning Mrs. Murray, good morning folks! Mighty fine weather we’re having.”

The Murrays laughed and waved and called out to him.

“He has a gold mine in that little old chicken coop of his,” said Mom. “He came down here last night with another stack of letters. Daddy figured that the stamps on them should be worth about six hundred dollars, and he found a certificate of stock that might still be sold for a tidy little sum.”

“Oh, Mom,” said Janie. “Do you suppose he’ll move back into the big house and fix it all up again the way it used to be?”

“No, I don’t think he ever would. He’s an old man now, and he’s content to leave things pretty much as they are. I hope he’ll clean up that shack of his. He didn’t say anything about that, although he did speak of having a vacation.” Billy sat on one stone post and Janie sat on the other. “Doesn’t he look grand Bill?” asked Janie as they admired the retreating procession. “He turned out to be quite nice after all. Do you remember how we used to run at the sight of him? I used to shiver at the very mention of his name, and all the time he was just a harmless old man.” Billy smiled and shook his head.

“It’s funny,” he said, “how just being kind to a person will improve his disposition. I wonder what he’ll give Daddy for a present.”

“Billy,” Jane exclaimed. “It isn’t polite to wonder what people are going to give you for a present, and besides, it will probably be a stamp. He must know that Daddy is just crazy about stamps, even if he doesn’t collect any more.”

Billy shaded his eyes as he looked across the road. “Yes,” he said. “It will probably be a stamp. What’s that moving under the little cottage?” He jumped off the post and ran. “Queenie is out again. That’s the second time this week she got out.”

“Better catch her in a hurry,” called Jane. “The last time she got out she ate Mr. Landry’s petunias, and Mom said the next time we’d have fried rabbit.”

“Murder,” growled Bill. “She gets in there under the foundation, and I can’t get in after her, then the minute I go away she’ll come out and run away.”

“Come on, Queenie,” called Jane. “Better to be in your cage than in the frying pan.”

“Stop that blood-thirsty talk,” said Billy making a face. “You know Mom was only fooling.”

Jane giggled. “Maybe she was, but don’t tell Queenie. She’s been a naughty girl, and she needs discipline.”

“This isn’t funny,” grumbled Billy. “You get on the other side of the house, and catch her when she comes out. I’ll chase her out with this long stick.” Jane looked dubious, and he continued: “And don’t let her slip through your fingers!” He waved his branch, and out streaked Queenie, right through Janie’s outstretched hands and into Landry’s flower bed. There she sat nibbling on asters, and every time they would get close enough to lay hands on her, she would dash off to another corner of the yard.

“I know what I’ll do,” said Billy. “You stay here and keep an eye on her, and I’ll catch her with my landing net.” Back he came in a few minutes with his long-handled net, but Queenie was gone. “Billy, I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t help it. I was looking right at her and she just disappeared.”

They scouted around the neighborhood, but no sign of a white rabbit.

“Maybe a dog ate her,” said Billy mournfully.

“Maybe she was run over by a car,” brooded Jane. They walked slowly out to the end of the lot where the hutch stood, and then they both stood open-mouthed in astonishment. There, on her bed of clover, sat Queenie eating a carrot!

“Well, mow me down,” said Billy when he could get his breath.

“She’s a witch,” said Jane.

Leaving the cottage at the end of the season always came as a surprise. It seemed that everything would be as usual one day, and the next morning the air would be full of preparations for going home. The boats had to be taken in and turned upside down to dry out. The raft never came in until the last afternoon of their stay, but screens had to come off, and awnings had to be taken down. Janie always felt a little pang of sadness at the thought of going back to town. Life in Springhill was exciting and interesting, but the long summer days at the lake were so much fun.

Grandma and Aunt Claire went back to town early, but the Murrays stayed until the last day before school started. Dad had the trailer again, and this time it was piled up higher than ever.

On the last morning Janie waded through a maze of packing boxes and suitcases on the porch. Davey was feeding Butch, and Mom was doing her best to persuade James that he could not bring a large fish into town to be mounted.

“But, Mom,” said James, “it’s the biggest fish I ever caught.”

“I’m sorry, my boy. You should have thought of that while he was still fresh, and not after he had been left down at the pier for two days.”

“But, Mom,” James repeated. “He’s the biggest fish I ever caught.”

Mom didn’t say anything. She just squinted her eyes and pinched her nose shut between her first finger and her thumb. James looked at her for a moment, and then he said,

“All right, all right,” and he took the fish out and buried it.

Dad and Bill were stacking packing boxes in the trailer. Jane ate breakfast in a hurry off the edge of the kitchen sink, and then she made the rounds to see that all the windows were fastened securely. Billy had fixed a covered market basket for Blackie and Queen and he set out for the back yard to get them started on the journey. He came back with his eyes bulging.

“What do you suppose that Queenie did now?”

Mom sat down on a packing box and looked desperate. “If she ran away again,” she said, “she can stay away. I’m not going to stop everything now and go looking for her.”

“But, Mom,” said Billy.

“Don’t ‘But, Mom’ me! I’ll not start looking for her again this morning.”

“But, Mom, she didn’t run away.”

“She didn’t run away? Then what are you talking about?”

“She had puppies. I mean rabbits. Babies. Lots of them.”

The whole family let out one big shout and ran for the back yard. True enough, Queen and Blackie were the parents of a large and handsome family. Mom and Daddy laughed so hard they leaned against the garage. “Let’s get out of here,” Mom said, “while we still can. The longer we stay here the more complicated things get.”

They went back to the cottage and hunted for something warm to wrap the baby rabbits in. Everything had been packed away, but Davey volunteered an old blanket of Butchie’s, and the infants were made ready for their first long trip.

The trailer was pretty well packed when Janie spied Mr. Mott and Mirandy coming down the road. “Hey, hey,” she cried. “Here comes Mr. Mott with Daddy’s present. He said he was coming, and here he comes.”

“Janie,” said her father. “Don’t talk like that. You children have made all this talk about a present sound like something that it never was intended to be. What I did for Mr. Mott was no more than one neighbor would do for another. I didn’t expect a reward, and I don’t expect one now.”

“Maybe you don’t expect one, Daddy,” said James, “but you’re going to get one.”

“Good morning, folks,” said Mr. Mott. “I see you’re getting ready to leave, and I came to say good-by.”

“Don’t say good-by yet,” said Mom. “We’ll be out for week-ends all during the nice fall weather.”

“City folks always say that,” said the old man, “but when the time comes they get busy in town, and they stay there. Labor Day is usually the end of things out here.”

“What do you do out here all winter,” asked Mr. Murray.

Mr. Mott patted Mirandy on the back. “Time was when I used to do a lot of hunting and fishing, but I’m getting a little old for that. I cleared a nice little heap of money on my stamps, and I figured that this year I’d spend the winter in Florida. I’ve heard the fishing is real good down there.”

“Good for you,” said Dad with a sort of surprised look on his face.

“Yes,” said Mr. Mott blowing his nose. “I’ve been mighty lucky, and you folks have been the cause of it all. I’ve been figuring and figuring what I could do for you and I’ve settled on Mirandy. She’s the finest thing I own. She’s smart, and she’s gentle, and she’d make a good pet for your children.”

Mom looked dazed, and Dad kept saying “But, Mr. Mott....”

“I’ll just tuck her right in here in the trailer beside the bicycle. A little grass and some water is all she needs. Now don’t you thank me,” he said as Dad started to protest. “You did me a good turn, and I want you to have Mirandy. I really do.”

A gentle rain began to fall. The baby rabbits were asleep in Janie’s lap in the back seat of the car. King and Queenie were in a market basket under Billy’s feet. Davey was balancing a bowl of goldfish, and Butch, terribly excited, was pointing and making impolite noises at the creature with the chin whisker who stood in the trailer and looked bored. Mr. Mott wrung Mr. Murray’s hand in farewell, and he walked down the road toward the bus station. The car began to move down around the curve and the children looked back at the snug little cottage.

“Good-by summer,” they called. “Good-by. We’ll be back again next year.”

_The author of_ Cottage on the Curve]

_Cottage on the Curve_

Janie Murray and her brothers, Billy, James, and Davey were all excited. School was over and they were getting ready to spend the summer at their cottage at Oak Lake. Something exciting always happened for there was swimming and a raft, fishing and hiking, and--a HAUNTED HOUSE!

Wouldn’t you like to meet the Murrays? Fun-loving Dad brought the organ grinder’s monkey home to live with them. To Mom, each child was her favorite. Billy, the oldest of the children, liked to tease sister Jane (as older brothers like to); Jane loved her Mom and Dad and her brothers; she went fishing with them and baited her own hook (she liked hair ribbons, too). James liked to mix things together in bottles and you never knew what might come out of them; Davey, the youngest, collected anything and everything for no reason at all.