Chapter XXIV: The Garden Party

"Letters for the whole bunch!" cried Lafe Bonner, coming into the sitting-room on his return from the post-office. "Hugh Bonner, E--s--q--Esquimau--wonder why they call his nibs that? Master Donald Bonner, Master Roy Bonner, Little Claude Bonner, Master Walter Bonner and--" Lafe stammered and got very red when he saw the address 'Gen. Lafayette Bonner.' "One for me, too," he continued hurriedly; "and last for Mrs. L. Bonner."

All the members of the family in reach took their letters, and Ivy, seated at her new writing desk in the corner next to the window, turned round expectantly, saying,

"Where's mine?"

Lafe held up his empty hands.

"You may search me! Somebody's forgotten this time!"

"Come here," commanded Ivy.

Lafe advanced, wearing a guileless expression until Ivy ran her hand into his empty coat pocket, and fumbling round, found a snug space in the lining and brought forth the missing epistle.

"Of course I couldn't fool her in that," mused Lafe sheepishly, when he read the contents of his high titled note:

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO A

GARDEN PARTY AT THE TOWERS ON

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER THE FIRST.

HOURS 1:30 TO 8 P. M.

The opening of the mail, always an important event in the town, had proved a pleasantly exciting one that day.

There was a shower of white envelopes from the little square window. Almost everyone who called received one or more, according to the number of children in the family; many regular inquirers who were never known to get even a circular, were at last rewarded, and proudly waved their little white banners so that all the world might see. The unusually large number of mail-bearing pedestrians gave Main Street a gala air.

Ivy, on watch at the window, hugged herself and smiled contentedly, for was she not one of the conspirators who, in league with the Post-office Department, had sent all those little white flags a-flutter through the town?

It was Mr. Dawson who had suggested the idea.

"You have enjoyed so many merry-makings at your friends' hands, don't you think it would be a good thing to make some return, Alene alanna?" he inquired one evening, when they sat by the library table, he smoking a pipe as usual, while Alene finished a page of a daily journal which she sent each week to her parents.

She beamed at the questioner across the table.

"Oh, Uncle Fred, I'd love to! What shall we do? May I get the girls to help, and make it a regular Happy-Go-Lucky affair?"

"Certainly--and the boys, too, if you wish. I notice they are generally mustered in, 'to help or to hinder,' as the case may be. You might have an outside party if the weather is fine."

"And then we could invite so many more!"

"Invite all the town if you wish. I'll see that there's enough big sugar cakes to go round if we break the bakery. Suppose you ask Mrs. Major and Kizzie in, and see how it strikes them!"

Alene skipped away and soon returned with the buxom housekeeper and the rosy little maid, all in a stir of excitement.

"I see Alene had no trouble in finding enthusiastic allies," said Uncle Fred in his genial way, that always set people at ease.

Everybody found seats and a pleasant hour followed in offering suggestions and making plans, while Prince lay on the rug lazily nodding approbation, or giving a friendly bark when Alene asked his opinion.

That was only the beginning of a happy time. The girls were deep in blissful preparations the next ten days; the cheerful helpers, Mat and Hugh, held many consultations with Jed and the gardener and Uncle Fred; an array of pavilions, swings, maypoles, rustic seats and tables sprang up in the Towers' grounds, and the kitchen range glowed like a furnace, turning out enough good things to feed a multitude.

Laura, Ivy, and Alene spent two afternoons in the library, making out lists and addressing invitations. Uncle Fred peeped in once or twice, bringing sheets of postage-stamps.

"May I take a few invitations? There are some fellows big and little I'd like to ask," he inquired.

Alene glanced up from her task, pen in hard and nodded absent-mindedly.

"I suppose so."

Apparently overwhelmed by her condescension, he furtively picked up half a dozen invitations and slouched away with a culprit-like mien that made Ivy lean back in her chair and laugh till she was out of breath.

Alene gazed at her wonderingly with such an innocent air that another explosion resulted, and sober Laura, all unaware of the little by-play, gave Ivy a smart rap on the back, which only increased her mirth.

"Hysterics?" inquired Alene.

"I thought she was choking, but she's only practising to be a contortionist," returned Laura, gazing apprehensively at the convulsed figure beside her.

"You girls will be the death of me, along with Mr. Dawson; he looked so funny," explained Ivy, in gasps, wiping her eyes.

They settled back to work with a will.

"Shall we ask Mark Griffin?" inquired Laura. "I have him on my list."

"So have I."

"And I!"

"One invitation will answer, I fancy! Kindly address it, Miss Dawson."

"And now the Happy-Go-Luckys may be as reckless as they please; fall off tree-tops, get lost in the grape-arbors, or tumble into the fountain--it's all the same," cried Ivy.

"_If_ he comes!"

"Perhaps he won't, without his band of buccaneers. I wonder if they are the Torchlights," said Alene.

"He 'shut up like a clam' as Mat says, when I asked him that day, but I got even with his High Mightiness," returned Laura.

"Say, girls," broke in Ivy, "I feel kind of lonesome! Everybody in town will have a bid but us."

"Poor child, she shall have one!" Alene held out for inspection a missive duly stamped and addressed.

"Now, Ivy, you might address Hermione's, and I'll send Vera's."

Ivy made a grimace.

"I'm glad you don't put it the other way!"

"I'd like to ask Hermione to help in our tissue-paper work, but we can't ask her without Vera."

"Hermione's a dear, so for her sake let's set up with Vera," said Laura.

Ivy gave a prodigious groan.

"'Take the bitter with the sweet,' though it will be Vera bitter."

So it came to pass that the library was the scene of many more busy hours, and the working-force of the Happy-Go-Luckys was increased by the Ramsey girls, who threw themselves heartily into the making of tissue-paper caps, rosettes and flowers, in which Vera proved an adept, and her productions were so much admired and praised by the others that she became quite amiable, and gave them no reason to regret the invitation.

The time went fast enough to these busy workers, though it seemed very slow to the rest of the young people.

Every lawn in town flew yards of dainty garments all belaced and beruffled; many small frocks and waists having seen much service were patched and mended to see more, there was an epidemic of ribbons, curling-irons, and fancy slippers, which grew worse as the great day approached, and when it came at last--as fine a day as one could wish--each house sent forth its quota of shining-faced, bedizened merry-makers to besiege the Towers' gates.

The smaller children were directed to the library, where they were captured by the larger girls, decorated with tissue-paper favors and set loose; "like a flock of birds and butterflies," as Hermione said, or "a plague of hungry locusts," to quote Ivy, who stood on the porch at the front door watching their flight.

"I don't want this old red cap," declared Claude.

"And I want a yellow one like Lawa's weaf," wailed Lois, while Nettie, for once figuring as amiability, with a blue top-knot on her golden tresses, only lingered with the others to give them countenance, as it were.

"Shoo, shoo!" cried the unfeeling Ivy, waving them away with her skirts. "Who are those boys who went past just now, looking so much amused, Laura? The short one stared at you as if he knew you."

"I didn't notice," returned Laura, glancing after the lads.

"It's that boy you made buy the white pitcher," said Alene.

"The other looks like one of Mark Griffin's soldiers of misfortune. Hoy, Mat!" Ivy hailed the latter in passing. "Who are those boys?"

"Bud Waters and Artie Orr; they came with Mark Griffin and Jack Lever,--there's Jack now."

"That thin boy leaning on the cane? I wondered who he was!"

"Yes, he's been laid up with a broken leg; is just able to hobble round; that's the reason we haven't seen him and Mark together for so long. They are hobnobbing with the Stony Road gang to-day."

"The gang? Why, are they all here?"

"Five or six, I should say. Mr. Dawson seemed to know them and sent Jed to show them round."

"That explains where Uncle Fred's invitations went."

"I shouldn't wonder if he knows all about the Torchlights, too!"

"Neither should I, Laura."

"The Torchlights?" cried Vera; "Who are they?"

"'A sort of club,'" said Laura, shutting her lips together in an imitation of Mark.