Girls of Highland Hall: Further Adventures of the Dandelion Cottagers

by Carroll Watson Rankin

  CHAPTER X

  MABEL FINDS A FAMILY

  Mabel, with a long afternoon before her and tempted by the pleasant day,decided to take a walk in the grove. Perhaps she could find a hickorynut. On the veranda she overtook little Lillian Thwaite, obviouslywaiting for some one to walk with.

  "Come on, Lill," said Mabel. "Let's go down to the grove."

  "Can't," returned Lillian, shrugging her small shoulders. "I'm going into practise my duet."

  "Then why did you put your things on?" demanded Mabel, suspiciously.

  "Just for instance," returned Lillian, pertly.

  Mabel discovered Grace Allen poking among the leaves in the grove.

  "Hello, Grace!" said she, hopefully. "What are you doing?"

  "Nothing. I'm going back to the house in a minute."

  "Come along with me--it's nice out."

  "Don't care to," returned Grace, snippishly.

  Mabel found the deserted grove rather gloomy and uninteresting. Beyondit the sunny prairie stretched for miles and miles with just one visiblebreak--a small house with a tumble-down fence far off toward the south.It was out of bounds of course. Still, the girls _had_ wandered out onthe prairie and not one of the Rhodes family had said a word. It lookedlike an entirely safe and harmless place. Mabel looked speculatively atthe faraway little house.

  "I wonder if I couldn't walk there and back before it gets dark. I'dhave something to tell the girls. It would be fun to peek over thatfence. Perhaps there are nuts under those trees by the gate. I wishMarjory and Bettie were here, but they had letters to read and this isJean's day at the gym. Maude's too. Anyhow, I'm going a _little_ way."

  It proved a splendid day for walking. Mabel's brown eyes brightened, afine color glowed in her cheeks and, for the moment, all her troublesevaporated. She even forgot her danger of becoming a boarding schoolorphan. Presently she looked back and was pleased to find herself quitea distance from Highland Hall. The school looked quite imposing, on topof its own little hill.

  "I can get to that cottage quite easily," said Mabel, trudging alongcheerfully. "Perhaps there are chickens and things in the yard--I hopethere isn't a goat. Too bad the ground is all brown. There isn'tanything left to pick."

  The trees, when Mabel reached them, were apple trees; but all the appleswere gone except a withered one. There _were_ chickens in the yard; anda woman who was peering anxiously down the road that began at hergateway and wandered off toward the southwest.

  "Say," said she, catching sight of Mabel. "Would you mind coming in andstaying with my children until Lizzie McCall gets here? She's due anyminute and I've got to get over to the trolley--I'm late now. I have ajob cleaning cars over at the Centerville Station, this time every day,and Lizzie always stays with the kids--they'd tear the house down if Ileft them alone."

  "If you're sure Lizzie is coming--"

  "Oh, yes, she's never missed yet. Just go in and see that they don'tmeddle with the fire. Lizzie'll be right along."

  The woman hastened away. She looked what she was, an honest workingwoman with many family cares. Mabel went inside. Four small childrenstared at Mabel, as she entered. A boy of four, two small girlsevidently twins, aged three, and a toddling baby of perhaps a year and ahalf. A delightful family to take care of for ten minutes but certainlynot the kind of family to leave for very long to its own devices; forthe twins were reaching for the sugar bowl and the boy had alreadydiscovered the poker and was poking the fire.

  "Let's all watch out the window for Lizzie," suggested Mabel. "Stand onthese two chairs."

  Watching for Lizzie proved more of an occupation than Mabel had countedon. They watched and watched with all their eyes but no Lizzie appeared.Ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes. No Lizzie.

  "Does Lizzie _always_ come?" queried Mabel, now decidedly uneasy.

  "Sure," replied the small boy.

  "Where is your father?"

  "Haven't any. Him all gone on choo choo cars. Far away."

  "Does your mother come home to supper?"

  "No. Lizzie makes our supper. Lizzie puts Tommy to bed and Susy to bedand Sairy to bed and Jackie to bed."

  "Well," remarked Mabel, crossly, "I wish she'd come right now and _do_it. I ought to be a mile from here this very minute. I shouldn't havecome in. And now I don't know _what_ to do. It isn't right for you to beleft by yourselves and it isn't right for me to stay. Now what does_anybody_ do in a case like that? I must be back by six o'clock; but I'dbe wicked if I went away--and it's awfully wrong of me not to go."

  "_Don't_ go," wheedled Tommy. "You is nicer than Lizzie."

  "Nicer 'an 'Izzie," echoed Susy.

  "Nicer 'an 'Izzie," echoed Sairy.

  Mabel peered anxiously down the road. The days were short and already itwas growing darker. For another half hour Mabel, pressing closer andcloser to the window, watched the road. By that time it was really dark.There was a lamp with oil in it on the kitchen table; Mabel discoveredmatches on the shelf and managed to light it.

  "What do you have for supper?" asked Mabel. "I suppose I'll have to feedyou."

  "Oatmeal," said Tommy. "It's in the kettle on the stove. And milk--in thecupboard. And bread."

  "What do you have for breakfast?"

  "Oatmeal and milk and bread."

  "Where do you get them?"

  "My muvver cooks 'em."

  "Hum," said Mabel, investigating the cupboard, "there's just aboutenough bread for two meals so I guess I'd better not eat very much if Ihave to stay to supper; but I hope I don't."

  But she did. Lizzie still remained mysteriously absent; and before longthe children began to beg for food. Mabel arranged their simple supperunder Tommy's directions and the friendly infants appeared pleased withtheir new nurse.

  It was lonely in the solitary little house; but Mabel didn't mind thatas long as the children were awake. But very soon after supper theybegan to nod. Tommy, very sweet and drowsy himself, showed Mabel wherethe other little people were to sleep. The baby was fretful; he hadeaten very little supper and now his heavy head felt hot against Mabel'scheek as she rocked him to quiet his complaining little cry. Presentlyhe was asleep, so she tucked him very tenderly into the oldclothes-basket that Tommy assured her was the baby's bed. Then thechubby, yawning twins were tucked into their crib, for which they were atight fit; and in two minutes, _they_ were asleep. After that, Tommyremoved all his clothes except his shirt and climbed into the doublebed.

  "You can sleep by me," invited Tommy, "until my muvver comes. Lizziedoes sometimes, after she washes the dishes."

  That at least was something for a worried and lonely young person to do.Mabel washed the tin spoons and thick saucers and put them neatly away.By this time it was exceedingly dark outside.

  "Even if Lizzie were to come," said Mabel, "I'd be afraid to go homealone. Dear me, I suppose I'll have to stay all night. By this timeeverybody will know I've been out of bounds and goodness only knows whatDoctor Rhodes will say to me. But I'll skip home as soon as it'sdaylight and ask that nice fat cook to let me in at the kitchen door."

  The bed was not particularly inviting but at last Mabel locked the outerdoor and climbed in beside Tommy, who was fast asleep. She hoped thatthe baby was all right; he seemed restless and made little moaningnoises and tossed uneasily in his basket. She was sure that she herselfwouldn't be able to sleep for a moment in that strange place, so faraway from her own friends; but presently she was slumbering quitepeacefully. It was broad daylight when she awoke.

  And still no Lizzie.

  "Tommy," demanded Mabel, sitting up in bed, "when does your mother gethome? Who cooks your breakfast every day?"

  "My muvver does. Where is my muvver?"

  "Well, that's what I'd like to know. I suppose I _could_ take you allover to the school--no, I couldn't carry that heavy baby all that wayeven if the twins could manage to walk so far. If it was just _you_,Tommy, I know we could do it. And I _don't_ like that baby's looks."

  "He's getting another toof," sa
id Tommy, wisely.

  The baby was sick, there was no doubt about that. There was barelyenough food for breakfast, there was no doubt about that, either. To besure there were potatoes, turnips and cabbages in the cellar. Thanks toher play-housekeeping in Dandelion Cottage, Mabel knew how to boilpotatoes but she also knew that potatoes were hardly a proper food for asick infant.

  By noon the children were hungry so Mabel fed them potatoes and gave thebaby a drink of water; but the supply of wood was getting low and Mabelcould see no way of replenishing it.

  "I suppose," said she, bitterly, "that woman just wanted to get rid ofall these children; and here I am! Four of them on my hands and nothingto eat. One of them sick and getting teeth! It's just my luck. I'll keepaway from strange houses after this. I don't believe there ever _was_ aLizzie. But we must have a fire--perhaps there's something in that shedthat will fit that stove."

  There wasn't, but there _was_ a large and clumsy baby carriage.

  Mabel examined it hopefully.

  Two hours later, at least half of the inmates of Highland Hall, greatlyexercised over Mabel's mysterious disappearance, beheld a strange sight.A twin baby carriage, containing three infants and propelled by a plump,sturdy and perspiring young person, was rolling up the broad walk towardthe school. A small boy trudged along behind.

  "It's Mabel!" gasped Jean.

  "It's Mabel!" shrieked Marjory.

  "Mabel, Mabel, Mabel," cried Bettie, Maude and Jane Pool. Mabel'sfriends rushed down to greet her. The girls who were not her friends andwho had been saying unkind things about her hung back; but they lookedand listened.

  "We might have known," said Bettie, "that she'd bring _something_ homewith her--she always does."

  "But this time," laughed Jean, "she's outdone herself."

  Doctor Rhodes, stern and disapproving, eyed Mabel, coldly. To say theleast it was unusual for a pupil to vanish for twenty-four hours andthen turn up unexpectedly with a family of four. It certainly neededexplaining.

  Mabel, however, was too much out of breath to do any explaining. Shebeamed at the girls--it _was_ pleasant to see them again after that long,anxious absence--and then glanced at Doctor Rhodes.

  Horrors! How was anybody to explain things to a man who glared likethat! Mabel stood still, her smile frozen on her plump, perspiringcountenance.

  "Leave those children right where they are," said Doctor Rhodes,sternly, "and go into my office. I want to know what this conductmeans."

  "Ye--yes, Sir," faltered Mabel, toiling up the steps. Marjory skippedalong beside her, to impart a bit of news.

  "We missed you at supper time," breathed Marjory, in an undertone; "butDoctor Rhodes didn't know until about an hour ago that you were lost. Weknew _you_ so we were sure you'd do some queer thing like this and wouldget home all right if we just gave you a chance, so we kept still. Ifyou'd only come just a little sooner we could have kept the secret. MissWoodruff got after us and found out. I must skip, now--he's coming."

  "Now," demanded Doctor Rhodes, "where have you been?"

  "I went for a walk," said Mabel, dropping into the chair that wasreserved for culprits. "I--I've always had the habit of bringing thingshome with me--cats, dogs and once an Indian baby. But--but this is theworst I've done yet."

  Doctor Rhodes turned suddenly to look out the window. The disappearanceof a pupil from the school was a serious matter; but there was somethingabout Mabel's rueful countenance, her dejected attitude and herapologetic tone that was provocative of laughter.

  "There was a woman," pursued Mabel, earnestly, "and she _said_ there wasa Lizzie. I believed her at first but now I don't. She asked me to staywith her children until Lizzie came and Lizzie _didn't_ come. I _had_ tostay. It wasn't safe to leave them with a fire in the stove. Today therewasn't any fresh milk for the baby and I couldn't split the wood. Butthere _was_ a twin baby carriage and it's taken us more than two hoursto get here."

  "Where was that house? In the village?"

  "Oh, no," returned Mabel, wearily, waving her hand toward the south."Way over that way across the prairie."

  "What! that small house that we can just see from the upper veranda?What were you doing away over there?"

  "Just taking a walk--I thought I'd be back by six. I knew I was goingpretty far; but my feet just kept going."

  "And what do you propose doing with all those children?"

  "I thought we'd feed them," said Mabel, "and then find somebody thatknows them. There's a vacant room across from mine. I'll take care ofthem for the night. The baby is getting a tooth."

  "A teething baby!"

  "And twins!" added Mabel. "And a boy named Tommy. But I got them allhere alive and that was something."

  "Of course I shall have to punish you for going out of bounds. But therest of your--your behavior is so unusual that I don't know just how tomeet it. I'll have to think about it awhile. Now take those children tothe room you mentioned and I'll have one of the maids send up somesupper--"

  "Milk and oatmeal and bread," pleaded Mabel, wearily.

  An hour later, the mother of the forsaken children appeared at thekitchen door. She had followed the wheels of the baby carriage all theway to Highland Hall.

  Charles was peeling potatoes, the two neat maids were helping him. Atsight of the woman in the doorway, Charles rose suddenly to his feet,dropped his pan of potatoes and turned as if to flee. But the visitorrushed across the room and threw her arms about his neck.

  And then tall, lanky Charles, with a sheepish glance at the twoastonished maids, returned her kiss.

  "He's my husband," said the woman. "I thought he'd gone to Detroit toget work. And here he is, not three miles from home!"

  Charles explained blushingly that he had temporarily deserted his wifebecause he found it so pleasant to be considered a bachelor.

  "The ladies," said Charles, waving a hand toward the fat cook and thetwo neat maids "make so much of a single man. And I _like_ being mademuch of--any man does."

  "And where," demanded Mrs. Charles, "are my children?"

  The neat maid who had carried the milk upstairs was able to lead her toher family; and Mabel learned that Lizzie had sent a note explainingthat she couldn't come; but the messenger had failed to deliver thenote. Mrs. Charles had been later than usual in starting her cleaningwork on the train and the train had started, carrying her to Chicago.

  "And I thought," said she, "I might as well make the most of a free ridewhile I was about it; so I went all the way, bought my provisions intown and got the noon train back."

  Charles hitched the school horse to the school wagon. With his sharpelbows sticking out and his sandy hair on end, he perched on the frontseat and drove his family home that evening. He remained in the employof Doctor Rhodes, but the two neat maids no longer "made much of him."As for the fat cook, she told him exactly what she thought of a man whodeserted a good wife and four fine children for the sake of flatteringattentions from other ladies. And crestfallen Charles promised to mendhis ways.