The Adopting of Rosa Marie
Page 16
CHAPTER XV
An Unexpected Treat
"PETER," demanded Mrs. Crane, stopping short on the horse-block, "who'sgoing to run that thing?"
"I am."
"Not with me in it. You don't know how."
"My dear, I've been learning the business for five weeks."
"So _that's_ what has taken you to Bancroft every afternoon for allthat time?"
"That's exactly what," admitted Mr. Black.
"And you're _sure_," queried Mrs. Crane, doubtfully, "that youunderstand all those fixings?"
"Every one of them."
"Will you promise to go slow?"
"There's a fine for exceeding the speed limit," twinkled Mr. Black.
"Well, I'm glad of that," said Mrs. Crane, permitting her patientbrother to help her into the vehicle. "My! but these cushions are soft."
"Yes," said Bettie, "it's just like sitting on baking powder biscuitsbefore they're baked."
"How do you know?" asked Mr. Black.
"Because I've tried it. You see, ministers' wives are dreadfullyinterrupted persons, and one night when Mother was making biscuitssome visitors came. Instead of popping one of the pans into the oven,mother dropped it on a dining-room chair on her way to the door andforgot all about it. When I came in to supper that chair was at myplace and I flopped right down on those biscuits! And I had to _stay_sitting on them because Father had asked one of the visitors--_such_a particular-looking person--to stay to tea; and I knew that Motherwouldn't want a perfectly strange man to know about it."
"That was certainly thoughtful," smiled Mr. Black. "Now, is every onecomfortable? If she is, we'll go for those extra wraps."
The new machine rolled down the street and turned the corner in theneatest way imaginable. Mrs. Crane looked decidedly uneasy at first;but when Mr. Black had successfully steered the birthday present pastthe ice wagon, a coal team, a prancing pony and two street cars, shefolded the hands that had been nervously clutching the side of the carand leaned back with a relieved sigh.
But when Mabel asked a question, Mrs. Crane silenced her quickly.
"Don't talk to him," she implored. "There's no telling _what_ mighthappen to us if he were to take any part of his mind off that--thathelm, for even a single second. Don't even _look_ at him."
What did happen was this. After the extra wraps had been collectedand donned, Mr. Black carried his charges all the way to Bancroft, adistance of seventeen miles, in perfect safety. The road was good, theday was mild and the only team they passed obligingly turned in at itsown gate before they reached it. They stopped in front of the biggestand best hotel in Bancroft.
"Everybody out for dinner," ordered Mr. Black.
"But, Peter," expostulated Mrs. Crane, hanging back, bashfully, "I'm inmy every-day clothes."
"Well, this isn't Sunday; and you always look well dressed. You're avery neat woman, Sarah."
"Well I _am_ neat, but black alpaca isn't silk even if my sleeves _are_this year's. And for goodness' sake, Peter, don't ask me to pronounceany of that bill of fare if it isn't plain every-day English, foryou know there isn't a French fiber in my tongue. You order for me.There's only one thing I can't eat and that's parsnips."
It was a very nice dinner and plain English enough to suit evenmatter-of-fact Mrs. Crane. After the first few bashful moments, thefour girls chattered so merrily that all the guests at other tablescaught themselves listening and smiling sympathetically.
"I never ate a really truly hotel dinner before," confided Bettie,happily.
"And to think," sighed Jean, contentedly, "of doing it without knowingyou were going to! That always makes things nicer."
"And I _never_ expected to ride in a navy-blue automobile," murmuredMarjory.
"Or to have four kinds of potatoes," breathed Mabel, who sat halfsurrounded by empty dishes--"little birds' bath-tubs," she called them.
"You must be a vegetarian," smiled Mr. Black.
"N-no," denied Mabel. "Only a potatorian."
"Mabel!" objected Marjory. "There isn't any such word."
"Yes, there is," returned Mabel, calmly. "I just made it."
"Well, I'm sure," sighed Mrs. Crane, "I never expected to have any suchbirthday as this."
"You see," said Mr. Black, giving his sister's plump elbow a kindlysqueeze, "this is a good many birthdays rolled into one."
"It seems hard," mourned Mabel, who was earnestly scanning the bill offare, "to read about so many kinds of dessert when you've room enoughleft for only three. I wish I'd began saving space sooner."
"You're in luck," laughed Bettie. "A very small, thin one is all _I_can manage--pineapple ice, I guess."
"Anyway," said Marjory, "I shan't choose bread pudding. We have thatevery Tuesday and Friday at home. Aunty Jane has regular times foreverything, so I always know just what's coming. I'm going to havesomething different--hot mince pie, I guess."
"Ice-cream," said Jean, "with hot chocolate sauce."
"Bring _me_," said Mabel, turning to the waiter, "hot mince pie,ice-cream with hot chocolate sauce and a pineapple ice with littlecakes."
"Bring little cakes for everybody," added Mr. Black.
"I declare," said Mrs. Crane, "I don't know when I've been so hungry."
"Now," remarked Mr. Black, half an hour later, "I think we'd better bejogging along toward home because it won't be as warm when the sun goesdown and I want to show you some of the sights in Bancroft--there's apretty good candy shop a few blocks from here--before we start towardLakeville. We can run down in about an hour."
"Peter," demanded Mrs. Crane, "what _is_ that speed limit?"
"About eight miles an hour."
"Hum--and it's seventeen miles----"
"Now, Sarah, don't go to doing arithmetic--you know you were neververy good at it. If I were to keep strictly within that limit you'dall want to get out and push. Got all your wraps? Whose muff is this?Here's a glove. Whose neck belongs to this pussy-cat thing? Here's ahandkerchief and two more gloves--Well, well! It's a good thing you hadsomebody along to gather up your duds. What! My hat? Why, that's so, I_did_ have a cap--here it is in my coat pocket."
There was still time after the pleasant ride home for a good frolicwith Rosa Marie and a cozy meal with Mrs. Crane; strangely enough,everybody was again hungry enough to enjoy the big birthday cake andthe good apple-sauce that went with it. Then Mr. Black carried them allhome in the motor car and delivered each damsel at her own door. Butonly one stayed delivered, for the other three immediately ran aroundthe block to meet at Jean's always popular home. You see, they had totalk it all over without the restraint of their host's presence.
"I think," said Mabel, ecstatically, "that Mr. Black is just too dearfor words. _Some_ folks are too stingy to live, with their automobilesand horses and never _think_ of giving anybody a ride."
"He's certainly very generous," agreed Jean.
"Of course," ventured Marjory, meditatively, "he has plenty of money orhe couldn't do nice things."
"He would anyway," declared Bettie. "It's the way he's made. Don't youremember how Mrs. Crane was always being good to people even when shewas so dreadfully poor? Well, Mr. Black would be just like that, too,even if he hadn't a single dollar. He has a Santa Claus heart."
"There _are_ folks," admitted Marjory, "that wouldn't know how to giveanybody a good time if they had all the money in the world. There'sAunty Jane, for instance. She's a _very_ good woman, with a terriblypricking conscience, and I know she'd like to make things pleasant forme if she knew how, but she doesn't, poor thing. She doesn't know agood time when she sees one. And Mrs. Howard Slater doesn't, either."
"Good-evening, girls," said Mrs. Mapes, coming in with a newspaper inher hand. "I _thought_ I heard voices in here. Have you had a nice day?You're just in time to read the paper; there's something in it thatwill interest you."