The curd being pretty thoroughly churned up now, with the gyrations of the two children, it was settling in a smooth, even layer over the top of the whey. Zaidee slapped and splashed it about in high glee, perfectly satisfied to stay in the tank any length of time, now that she had Helen beside her there.
Just then steps sounded on the planks outside, and the voices of men were heard.
"Great guns! Who left this "ere spigot a-runnin"!" exclaimed one, coming hastily forward. "Look at the whey goin" galumphin out. Suthin" must hev gorn bust."
A breathless silence settled on Zaidee and Helen.
"There warn"t nothin" a-runnin" when I went off to dinner," said another, "and I was the last feller out."
The next moment the astonished men were gazing at the pair of guilty-looking little mermaids, who wore curds for seaweeds. Helen"s floating golden hair, all stringy with whey, was a funnier sight even than Zaidee"s short plastered locks. The two frightened, dirty, streaming little faces, were raised appealingly.
"Wal, I vum! We"ve caught suthin" in _this_ cheese, for sure," said one man, coming nearer.
"We falled in," said Zaidee, regaining her courage, which never long deserted her. "We don"t like this white water, and it"s all smelly.
Please take us out."
"I swan," said the other man. "Where did you come from, young uns?"
"We live at the beach, at grandma"s. Take us out, please. Take Helen first."
"What are you doin" around here, then, a-tumblin" into our vats, and a-spilin" good curds and whey? You don"t suppose we want to flavour it with little gals, do you?"
Zaidee wasn"t sure of anything but that she wanted to get out of her new bath-tub, so she only repeated:
"Please take us out, Mr. Man, and we won"t fall in again, ever, "cause we don"t like this white water, truly we don"t. There are such funny little snow stones in it. We like really truly water best. Please take us out."
"Was it you turned my spigot?" demanded her jailer, very sternly.
Zaidee quaked. She had forgotten about turning the spigot.
"We won"t ever turn it again," she promised, hastily.
"Oh, come, Steve, take the kid out," said the other man.
"Ef it was one of our children they"d get a trouncin", but they belong to some of them city folks down by the beach. Them city children dunno nothin"--can"t expect "em to. Come, young uns," and, in a moment, Zaidee and Helen stood on the planks.
"Sech capers!" grumbled the other man, setting down the dripping little figures he had lifted out. "Hull batch spiled. Now, scoot." And the children hastily scooted, leaving a milky track behind.
They had no idea of the way home, but, as Zaidee was not ready to return yet, that did not trouble her. Once outside of the cheese factory they got leaves and wiped off each other"s dripping faces and hair, as best they could.
"My shoes are all soppy," said Helen, tiptoeing along, uncomfortably.
"Let"s take "em off," said Zaidee, instantly, sitting down and tugging at the wet b.u.t.tonholes, which would not yield to her small fingers.
Helen"s were loose, and unb.u.t.toned easily. When she got her shoes off, however, she found she could not walk, for the sticks and p.r.i.c.kles on the ground hurt her tender feet.
"I"ll have to put my shoes on again," she said. "The palms of my feet hurt so. Don"t take yours off, Zaidee."
So Zaidee got up out of the little pool of whey that had dripped from her dress while she had been sitting, and after Helen had, with some difficulty, crowded her feet into her wet shoes again, the children started off in search of a new adventure. The hot sun on their clothes was fast making them very unpleasant objects to a sensitive nose, but they were getting used to the odour of sour milk.
There was a little foot-bridge above the dam, for on the other side of the stream stood a little sawmill. The children ran across the bridge, gaily. Back of the sawmill were high heaps of delightful yellow sawdust.
"See those beautiful yellow hills!" cried Zaidee, rapturously, running forward and throwing herself full length into one, bringing a cloud of yellow powder about her. "It"s awfully nice, Helen; come on."
Helen, nothing loth, came on, and in a moment the children were wallowing in the soft, light dust. In the somewhat damp state of their clothes, the immediate result can be imagined.
"You look just like a woolly worm, Helen," said Zaidee, gleefully.
"You"re all fuzzy with sawdust. Lie down and I"ll bury you all up."
Helen obediently sat down, and Zaidee heaped a yellow mound over her.
"You"re like a yellow Santa Claus," cried Zaidee, as Helen emerged, presently, somewhat smothered. "Now, bury me!"
"I love to feel it all running down my back like ants," Zaidee said, wriggling, but enjoying the sensation, as Helen let the dry dust drop through her fingers on her head.
A little later, Will, running through the woods, came past the sawmill, and stopped to listen, at the sound of children"s voices. Following this, he immediately discovered two strange looking objects, rolling, with shrieks of laughter, down the sawdust heaps.
"You"re a pretty pair of kids," he said, approaching them. "Scaring people into fits, for two hours! By Jove! where have you been?" he broke off, holding his nose, as he drew nearer.
"Let"s go home, now; I"m hungry," was all the answer Zaidee deigned.
And so it happened that just as auntie and grandma drove up in front of the gate the first thing they saw was two remarkable little figures coming slowly around the house, golden hair and black all of a colour, faces begrimed with dust and streaked with sour milk, draggled dresses, with plasters of sawdust here and there, and odorous,--but the less said about that, the better.
CHAPTER VI.
BEAR ISLAND.
Eunice and Edna were devoted little friends. Edna came just between the two sisters. But, as she had always been somewhat delicate, Cricket"s tireless energy often wearied her, and Eunice"s naturally quieter temperament suited her much better. Edna was more deliberate in everything than her little cousins were, more literal, less full of fun and frolic, and sometimes fretful under the mere burden of not feeling quite well and strong, as they always did. But she was neither selfish nor exacting, as delicate children often are; she was always gentle and polite, never reckless and forgetful of consequences, as Cricket so often was, and so she made an excellent balance for her little cousins.
Cricket sometimes found herself rather in the cold, when Eunice and Edna were together, however, for Edna loved to get Eunice down in some cool, shady corner, or under the rocks on the beach, to chatter or do fancy work together. Cricket thought this was dreadfully stupid, and whenever the other girls settled themselves for what Edna called a "cozy hour,"
she would slip off by herself, to find the boys, or go off with old Billy, with whom she had struck up such a comical friendship, for he followed her round like a big dog, and permitted all sorts of liberties with his possessions from her, that he was very chary of allowing the others. Or else she would go alone for a scamper on Mopsie, or even perch herself up on a branch of some tree in the orchard, and pore over the pages of her beloved "Little Women," or some other of her favourites. Reading was the sole sitting-down occupation that Cricket did not think was intolerably stupid, and a sheer waste of time.
Fortunately, she always had boundless resources of amus.e.m.e.nt within herself, and she would not have been lonely on a desert island.
"Come for a row, girls," said Eunice, the next morning. "The water is like gla.s.s."
"Suppose we row over to Bear Island," said Edna. "I"ll take my embroidery, and you can take a book and read to me, Eunice. If we take the boat off the boys can"t get to us and tease us."
"All right," a.s.sented Eunice. "We"ll take the "Light-house Girl." I"m dying to finish it. Cricket, you bring your knitting, won"t you, and we"ll take some cookies and things to eat, and stay all the morning."
""Not mush," as baby says," responded Cricket, with decision. "Think I"m going to waste this glorious day, knitting _washrags_?" with ineffable scorn. "You two old grandmothers can knit and read all you want to. I"ve too much else to do."
"Cricket is afraid she"ll get her washrag done, if she works on it,"
laughed Eunice.
"Well, what if I am?" returned Cricket, defensively. "As long as I have that on hand, n.o.body can ask me to do anything else. If I"m careful how I work on it, I can make it last till I"m grown up."