CHAPTER VII.
IN TOURS
A dozen times between Paris and Tours the Little Colonel turned from thecar window to smile at her mother, and say with a wriggle of impatience,"Oh, I can't _wait_ to get there! Won't Betty and Eugenia be surprised tosee us two whole days earlier than they expected!"
"But you mustn't count too much on seeing them at the hotel the minute wearrive," her mother cautioned her. "You know Cousin Carl wrote that theywere making excursions every day to the old chateaux near there, and Ithink it quite probable they will be away. So don't set your heart onseeing them before to-morrow night. Some of those trips take two days."
Lloyd turned to the window again and tried to busy herself with the scenesflying past: the peasant women with handkerchiefs over their heads, andthe men in blue cotton blouses and wooden shoes at work in the fields; thelime-trees and the vineyards, the milk-carts that dogs helped to draw. Itwas all as Joyce had described it to her, and she pinched herself to makesure that she was awake, and actually in France, speeding along toward theGate of the Giant Scissors, and all the delightful foreign experience thatJoyce had talked about. She had dreamed many day-dreams about thisjourney, but the thought that was giving her most pleasure now was notthat these dreams were at last coming true, but that in a very short timeshe would be face to face with Betty and Eugenia.
It was noon when they reached Tours, and went rattling up to the HotelBordeaux in the big omnibus. At first Lloyd was disposed to find faultwith the quaint, old-fashioned hotel which Cousin Carl had chosen as theirmeeting-place. It had no conveniences like the modern ones to which shehad been accustomed. There was not even an elevator in it. She looked indismay at the steep, spiral stairway, winding around and around in the endof the hall, like the steps in the tower of a lighthouse. On a side tablein the hall, several long rows of candles, with snuffers, suggested thekind of light they would have in their bedrooms.
But everything was spotlessly clean, and the landlady and her daughtercame out to meet them with an air of giving them a welcome home, whichextended even to the dog. After their hospitable reception of Hero, Lloydhad no more fault to find. She knew that at no modern hotel would he havebeen treated so considerately and given the liberty of the house. Since hewas not banished to the courtyard or turned over to a porter's care, shewas willing to climb a dozen spiral stairways, or grope her way throughthe semi-darkness of a candle-lighted bedroom every night while they werein France, for the sake of having Hero free to come and go as he pleased.
"Come on!" she cried, gaily, to her mother, as a porter with a trunk onhis shoulder led the way up the spiral stairs. "It makes me think of theold song you used to sing me about the spidah and the fly, 'The way intomy pahlah is up a winding stair.' Nobody but a circus acrobat could run upthe whole flight without getting dizzy. It's a good thing we are onlygoin' to the next floah."
She ran around several circles of steps, and then paused to look back ather mother, who was waiting for Mr. Sherman's helping arm. "The elephantnow goes round and round when the band begins to play," quoted Lloyd,looking down on them, her face dimpling with laughter.
"Look out!" piped a shrill voice far above her. "I'm coming!" Lloyd gave ahasty glance upward to the top floor, and drew back against the wall. Fordown the banister, with the speed of a runaway engine, came sliding asmall bare-legged boy. Around and around the dizzy spiral he went, huggingthe railing closely, and bringing up with a tremendous bump against thenewel post at the bottom.
"Hullo!" he said, coolly, looking up at the Little Colonel.
"It's _Henny!_" she exclaimed, in amazement. "Henderson Sattawhite! Of allpeople! How did you get heah?"
But the boy had no time to waste in talking. He stuck his thumb in hismouth, looked at her an instant, and then, climbing down from thebanister, started to the top of the stairs as fast as his short legs couldcarry him, for another downward spin.
Lloyd waited for her mother to come up to the step on which she stood, andthen said, with a look of concern, "Do you suppose they are all heah,'Fido' an' all of them? And that Howl will follow me around as he did onshipboard, beggin' for stories? It will spoil all my fun with the girls ifhe does."
"'Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you,'" said her father,playfully pinching her cheek. "You'll find it easier to escape persecutionon land than on shipboard. Henny didn't seem at all anxious to renew hisacquaintance with you. He evidently finds sliding down bannisters more tohis taste. Maybe Howell has found something equally interesting."
"I certainly hope so," said Lloyd, running on to their rooms at the end ofthe hall. The casement window in her room looked out over a broadbouleyard, down the middle of which went a double row of trees, shading astrip of grass, where benches were set at intervals.
Lloyd leaned out to look and listen. A company of soldiers was marching upthe street in the gay red and blue of their French uniforms, to the musicof a band. A group of girls from a convent school passed by. Then somenuns. She stood there a long time, finding the panorama that passed herwindow so interesting that she forgot how time was passing, until hermother called to her that they were going down to lunch.
"I like it heah, evah so much," she announced, as she followed her fatherand mother into the dining-room. "Did you ask in the office, Papa Jack,when the girls would be back?"
"Yes, they have gone to Amboise. They will be home before dark. I amsorry you missed taking that trip with them, Lloyd. It is one of the mostinteresting chateaux around here in my opinion. Mary, Queen of Scots, wentthere a bride. There she was forced to watch the Hugenots being thrownover into the river. Leonardo da Vinci is buried there, and Charles VIII.was killed there by bumping his head against a low doorway."
"Oh, deah!" sighed the Little Colonel, "my head is all in a tangle.There's so many spots to remembah. Every time you turn around you bumpinto something you ought to remembah because some great man was bawnthere, or died there, or did something wondahful there. It would be lotseasiah for travellers in Europe if there wasn't so many monuments to smahtpeople. Who must I remembah in Tours?"
"Balzac," said her father, laughing. "The great French novelist. But thatwill not be hard. There is a statue of him on one of the principalstreets, and after you have passed him every day for a week, you willthink of him as an old acquaintance. Then this is the scene of one ofScott's novels--'Quentin Durward.' And the good St. Martin lived here.There is a church to his memory. He is the patron saint of the place. Atthe chateaux you will get into a tangle of history, for their chiefinterest is their associations with the old court life."
"Where is Hero?" asked Mrs. Sherman, suddenly changing the conversation.
"He's in the pahlah, stretched out on a rug," answered Lloyd. "It's cooland quiet in there with the blinds down. The landlady's daughtah said noone went in there often, in the middle of the day, so nobody would disturbhim, and he'd not disturb anybody. He's all tiahed out, comin' so far onthe cars. May I go walkin' with him aftah awhile, mothah?"
Mrs. Sherman looked at her husband, questioningly. "Oh, it's perfectlysafe," he answered. "She could go alone here as well as in LloydsboroValley, and with Hero she could have nothing to fear."
"I want you to rest awhile first," said Mrs. Sherman. "At four o'clock youmay go."
Leaving Hero comfortably stretched out asleep in the parlour, Lloyd wentback to her room. She lay down for a few minutes across the bed and closedher eyes. But she could not sleep with so many interesting sights in thestreet below. Presently she tiptoed to the window, and sat looking outuntil she heard her mother moving around in the next room. She knew thenthat she had had her nap and was unpacking the trunks.
"Mothah," called Lloyd, "I want to put on my prettiest white embroidereddress and my rosebud sash, because I'll meet Cousin Carl and the girlsto-night."
"That is just what I have unpacked for you," said her mother. "Come in andI'll help you dress."
Half an hour later it was a very fresh and dainty picture that smiled backat Lloyd
from the mirror of her dressing-table. She shook out her crispwhite skirts, gave the rosebud sash an admiring pat, and turned her headfor another view of the big leghorn hat with its stylish rosettes of whitechiffon. Then she started down the hall toward the spiral stairway. It wasa narrow hall with several cross passages, and at one of them she paused,wondering if it did not lead to Eugenia's and Betty's rooms.
To her speechless surprise, a door popped open and a cupful of water wasdashed full in her face. Spluttering and angry, she drew back in time toavoid another cupful, which came flying through the transom above the samedoor. Retreating still farther down the passage, and wiping her face asshe went, she kept her gaze on the door, walking backward in order to doso.
Another cupful came splashing out into the hall through the transom. Aboy, tiptoeing up to the door, dodged back so quickly that not a droptouched him; then with a long squirt gun that he carried, he knelt beforethe keyhole and sent a stream of water squirting through it. It wasHowell.
There was a scream from the bedroom, Fidelia's voice. "Stop that, youhateful boy! I'll tell mamma! You've nearly put my eye out."
A muffled giggle and a scamper of feet down the hall was the only answer.Fidelia threw open the door and looked out, a water pitcher in her hand.She stopped in amazement at sight of the Little Colonel, who was waitingfor a chance to dodge down the hall past the dangerous door, into the mainpassage.
"For mercy sakes!" exclaimed Fidelia. "When did _you_ come?"
"In time fo' yoah watah fight," answered the indignant Little Colonel,shaking out her wet handkerchief. She was thoroughly provoked, for thefront of her fresh white dress was drenched, and the dainty rosebud sashstreaked with water.
Fidelia laughed. "You don't mean to say that you caught the ducking Imeant for Howl!" she exclaimed. "Well, if that isn't a joke! It's thefunniest thing I ever heard of!" Putting the pitcher on the floor andclasping her hands to her sides, she laughed until she had to lean againstthe wall.
"It's moah bad mannahs than a joke!" retorted Lloyd, angered more by thelaugh than she had been by the wetting. "A girl as old as you oughtn't togo travellin' till you know how to behave yo'self in a hotel. I don'twondah that wherevah you go people say, 'Oh, those dreadful Americanchildren!'"
"It isn't so! They don't say it!" snapped Fidelia. "I've got just as goodmanners as you have, anyhow, and I'll throw this whole pitcher of water onyou if you say another word." She caught it up threateningly.
"You just _dare!_" cried the Little Colonel, her eyes flashing and hercheeks flushing. Not for years had she been so angry. She wanted to screamand pull Fidelia's hair with savage fingers. She wanted to bump her headagainst the wall, again and again. But with an effort so great that itmade her tremble, she controlled herself, and stood looking steadily atFidelia without a word.
"I mustn't speak," she kept saying desperately to herself. "I mustn'tspeak, or my tempah will get away with me. I might claw her eyes out. Iwish I could! Oh, I _wish_ I could!" Her teeth were set tightly together,and her hands were clenched.
Fidelia met her angry gaze unflinchingly for an instant, and then, with acontemptuous "pooh!" raised the pitcher and gave it a lurch forward. Itwas so heavy that it turned in her hands, and instead of drenching Lloyd,its contents deluged Fanchette, who suddenly came out of the door besideLloyd, with the thousand dollar poodle in her arms.
Poor Beauty gave an injured yelp, and Fidelia drew back and slammed thedoor, locking it hastily. She knew that the maid would hurry to hermistress while he was still shivering, and that there would be anuncomfortable account to settle by and by.
Howell, who had crept up to watch the fuss, doubled himself with laughter.It amused him even more than it had Fidelia that he had escaped the water,and Lloyd had caught it in his stead. Lloyd swept past him without a word,and ran to her mother's room so angry that she could not keep the tearsback while telling her grievance.
"_See_ what that horrid Sattawhite girl has done!" she cried, holding outher limp wet skirts, and streaked sash, with an expression of disgust. Ijust _despise_ her!"
"It was an accident, was it not?" asked Mrs. Sherman.
"Oh, she didn't know she was throwing the watah on me, when she pitched itout, but she was glad that it happened to hit me. She didn't even say'excuse me,' let alone say that she was sorry. And she laughed and held onto her sides, and laughed again, and said, 'oh, what a joke,' and that itwas the funniest thing that she evah saw. I think her mothah ought to knowwhat bad mannahs she's got. Somebody ought to tell her. I told Fideliawhat I thought of her, and I'll nevah speak to her again! So there!"
Mrs. Sherman listened sympathetically to her tale of woe, but as sheunbuttoned the wet dress, and Lloyd still stormed on, she sighed as if toherself, "Poor Fidelia!"
"Why, mothah," said Lloyd, in an aggrieved tone, "I didn't s'pose thatyou'd take her part against me."
"Stop and think a minute, little daughter," said Mrs. Sherman, opening hertrunk to take out another white dress. Lloyd was working herself up into awhite heat. "Put yourself in Fidelia's place, and think how she has alwaysbeen left to the care of servants, or of a governess who neglected her.Think how much help you have had in trying to control your temper, and howlittle you have had to provoke it. Suppose you had Howell and Hendersonalways tagging after you to tease and annoy you, and that I had alwaysbeen too busy with my own affairs to take any interest in you, except topunish you when I was exasperated by the tales that you told of eachother. Wouldn't that have made a difference in your manners?"
"Y-yes," acknowledged Lloyd, slowly. Then, after a moment's silence, shebroke out again. "I might have forgiven her if only she hadn't laughed atme. Whenevah I think of that I want to shake her. If I live to be ahundred yeahs old, I can nevah think of Fidelia Sattawhite, withoutremembahin' the mean little way she laughed!"
"What kind of a memory are you leaving behind you?" suggested Mrs.Sherman, touching the little ring on Lloyd's finger that had been hertalisman since the house party. "Will it be a Road of the Loving Heart?"
Lloyd hesitated. "No," she acknowledged, frankly. "Of co'se when I stop tothink, I do want to leave that kind of a memory for everybody. I'd hate tothink that when I died, there'd be even one person who had cause to sayugly things about me, even Fidelia. But just now, mothah, honestly when Iremembah how she _laughed_, I feel that I must be as mean to her as she isto me. I can't help it."
Mrs. Sherman made no answer, but turned to her own dressing, and presentlyLloyd kissed her, and went slowly down-stairs to find Hero. He was nolonger dreaming in peace. Two restless boys cooped up in the narrow limitsof the hotel, and burning with a desire to be amused, had discovered himthrough the crack of the door, and immediately pounced upon him.
"Aw, ain't he nice!" exclaimed Henny, stroking the shaggy back with adirty little hand. Howl felt in his blouse, hoping to find some crumb leftof the stock of provisions stored away at lunch-time.
"Feel there, Henny," he commanded, backing up to his little brother, andhumping his shoulders. "Ain't that a cooky slipped around to the back ofmy blouse? Put your hand up and feel."
Henny obligingly explored the back of his brother's blouse, and fished outthe last cooky, which they fed to Hero.
"Wisht we had some more," said Howell, as the cake disappeared. "Henny,you go up and see if you can't hook some of Beauty's biscuit."
"Naw! I don't want to. I want to play with the dog," answered Henny, "He'sbig enough to ride on. Stand up, old fellow, and let me get on your back."
"I'll tell you a scheme," cried Howl; "you run up-stairs and get one ofmamma's shawl-straps, and we'll fix a harness for him, and make him rideus around the room."
"All right," agreed Henny, trotting out into the hall. At the door he metLloyd. When she went into the room she found Howell lying on the floor,burrowing his head into the dog's side for a pillow. Hero did not like it,and, shaking himself free, walked across the room and lay down in anotherplace.
Howl promptly followed, and pillowed his head on h
im again. Hero lookedaround with an appealing expression in his big, patient eyes, once moregot up, crossed the room, and lay down in a corner. Howell followed himlike a teasing mosquito.
"Don't bothah him, Howl," said Lloyd. "Don't you see that he doesn't likeit?"
"But he makes such a nice, soft pillow," said the boy, once more burrowinghis hard little head into Hero's ribs.
"He might snap at you if you tease him too much. I nevah saw him do it toany one, but nobody has evah teased him since he belonged to me."
"Is he your dog?" asked Howl, in surprise.
"Yes," answered Lloyd, proudly. "He saved my life one time, and hismastah's anothah. And that medal on his collah was one that was given byFrance to his mastah fo' bravery, and the Majah gave it to him because hesaid that Hero had twice earned the right to wear it."
"Tell about it," demanded Howl, scenting a story. "How did he--" Hisquestion was stopped in the middle by Hero, who, determined to be nolonger used as a pillow, stood up and gave himself a mighty shake. Walkingover to the sofa piled with cushions, he took one in his mouth, andcarrying it back to Howl dropped it at his feet as if to say, "There! Usethat! I am no sofa pillow." That done he stretched himself out again inthe farthest corner of the room, and laid his head on his paws with a sighof relief.
"Oh! Oh!" cried the Little Colonel. "Did you evah see anything so sma'htas that in all yo' life? It's the brightest thing I evah saw a dog do. Hethought it all out, just like a person. I wish Papa Jack could have seenhim do it. I'm goin' to treat you to something nice fo' that, Hero. Waittill I run back up-stairs and get my purse."
Anxious to make him do something else interesting, Howl still followed thedog. He tickled his paws, turned his ears back and blew in them andblindfolded him with a dirty handkerchief.
Lloyd was gone longer than she intended, for she could not find her pursefor several minutes, and she stopped to tell her mother of Hero'sperformance with the sofa pillow. When she went into the parlour again,both boys were kneeling beside the dog. Their backs were toward the door,Henderson had brought the shawl-strap, and they were using it for thefurther discomfort of the patient old St. Bernard.
"Here, Henny, you sit on his head," commanded Howl, "and I'll buckle hishind feet to his fore feet, so that when he tries to walk he'll wabblearound and tip over. Won't that be funny?"
"Stop!" demanded Lloyd. "Don't you do that, Howl Sattawhite! I've told youenough times to stop teasing my dog."
Howl only giggled in reply and drew the buckle tighter. There was a quickyelp of pain, and Hero, trying to pull away found himself fast by thefoot.
Before Howl could rise from his knees, the Little Colonel had dartedacross the room, and seizing him by the shoulders, shook him till histeeth chattered.
"There!" she said, giving him a final shake as she pushed him away. "Don'tyou evah lay a fingah on that dog again, as long as you live. If you doyou'll be sorry. I'll do something _awful_ to you!"
For the second time that afternoon her face was white with anger. Her eyesflashed so threateningly that Howl backed up against the wall, thoroughlyfrightened. Releasing Hero from the strap, she led him out of the room,and, with her hand laid protectingly on his collar, marched him out intothe street.
"Those tawmentin' Sattawhites!" she grumbled, under her breath. "I wishthey were all shut up in jail, every one of them!"
But her anger died out as she walked on in the bright sunshine, watchingthe strange scenes around her with eager eyes. More than one head turnedadmiringly, as the daintily dressed little girl and the great St. Bernardpassed slowly down the broad boulevard. It seemed as if all the nurses andbabies in Touraine were out for an airing on the grass where the benchesstood, between the long double rows of trees.
Once Lloyd stopped to peep through a doorway set in a high stone wall.Within the enclosure a group of girls, in the dark uniforms of a charityschool, walked sedately around, arm in arm, under the watchful eyes of theattendant nuns. Then some soldiers passed on foot, and a little whileafter, some more dashed by on horseback, and she remembered that Tours wasthe headquarters of the Ninth Army corps, and that she might expect tomeet them often.
Not till the tolling of the great cathedral bell reminded her that it wastime to go back to the hotel, did she think again of Howl and Kenny andFidelia. By that time her walk had put her into such a pleasant frame ofmind, that she could think of them without annoyance.
The Little Colonel's Hero Page 8
