Keith slapped his pockets. "I haven"t a sc.r.a.p," he declared. "Malcolm, you might be able to spare that bunch of letters you carry around in your pocket. You"ve read them enough to know them by heart, I should think."
"Oh, keep still, can"t you?" muttered Malcolm, in an aside. "Don"t get funny now."
"See him get red!" whispered Keith to Betty. "They"re from a girl he met at the first college hop last fall. She"s older than he is, but he thinks she"s the one and only."
Then he turned to Malcolm again. "You might at least spare the envelopes when it"s to keep us from freezing. It would be a big sacrifice, but to save your own blood and kin, you know--"
Malcolm stole a quick glance at Lloyd, but she was leaning wearily against the ledge of rocks, paying no attention to Keith"s remarks.
Kitty solved the difficulty by diving into Keith"s pockets after the packages, and emptying the brown sugar and chocolate into the saucepan.
She handed the wrapping-paper and bag to Rob, saying if that was not enough she would scratch the label off the can of evaporated cream.
Carefully holding his hat over the pile of twigs to shield it from the wind, Rob applied a match to the paper. It blazed up and caught the wood at once, and in a few moments a comfortable fire was crackling in front of them. Back in the cavelike hollow, under the rocks, the boys found a big, dry log, which other campers had put there for a seat. They rolled it forward toward the fire. Some flat stones were soon heated for the girls to put their feet on, and, warmed and rested, they began to investigate the contents of the baskets.
"Oh, Rob!" groaned Lloyd. "What a lunch you did pick up for a wintah day! These slabs of cold pumpkin pie would freeze the teeth of a polah beah, and there"s nothing else but pickles and cheese and apples and raw eggs."
"That"s fine!" exclaimed Allison. "We can roast the eggs in the ashes, and I"ve brought bacon to broil over the fire on switches. And here"s crackers and gingersnaps and salmon--"
"And peanuts," added Kitty, "don"t forget them. Or the fudge. We will have that ready in a little while."
"Now what could be jollier than this?" cried Gay, as she took the long, pointed switch that Rob cut for her, and held a piece of bacon over the fire to broil. "It"s a thousand times nicer than a picnic in the summer, when you get so hot, and the mosquitoes and redbugs and spiders swarm all over you."
Lloyd, with a sigh of relief, saw that Rob was "acting natural" at last, and he and Gay were showing off to mutual advantage. She was enjoying the novel experience so fully that she was in her brightest spirits, and he was talking to her with the familiar ease with which he talked to Lloyd and Betty, even scolding her with brotherly frankness when she dripped bacon grease around too promiscuously.
The eggs were saltless, the bacon smoked and black, because, held in the flame as often as against the embers, nearly every piece caught fire and had to be blown out. Smoke blew in their eyes, and the snow fell thicker and thicker. But, with their feet on the hot stones, their backs to the sheltering ledge of rocks, and the fire crackling in front of them, they sang and laughed and ate with a zest which no summer picnic could have inspired.
No one had remembered to bring a pail for water, and rather than tramp over another hill to a distant spring, they quenched their thirst with handfuls of snow. The fudge boiled over, and more than half of it was lost in the ashes.
"It"s a good thing that it did," Allison declared, tossing the empty salmon box and a bag of peanut sh.e.l.ls into the fire. "Ugh! The mixture we"ve already eaten is enough to kill us! I think we ought to start back home now. I"m sure that I heard the one o"clock train whistle."
But Kitty protested. They hadn"t been out half long enough, she said. If the ice on the creek had been free from snow, they would have skated for hours, and she thought as long as that sport had been spoiled, they ought to do something to make up for it. Gay had never gathered any mistletoe. She thought it would be fun for them all to go around by Stone Hollow, and get some off the big trees that grew in the surrounding pastures.
Lloyd listened to the ready a.s.sent of the others with a sinking heart.
She had been leaning back against the rocks for some time, taking no part in the conversation. She had grown so tired that she dreaded the long tramp home, and had been vainly wishing that Tarbaby could suddenly appear on the scene, or some one with a conveyance. Even a wheelbarrow or a go-cart would have been welcome. She could not remember that she had ever felt so exhausted before in all her life.
"But I won"t be the one to hang back and spoil every one"s fun," she said to herself, "They wouldn"t let me go home the shorter way by myself. It would only break up the pah"ty if I proposed it. But I do not see how I can evah drag myself all the way around by Stone Hollow."
At another time they might have noticed that she lagged behind, that she had little to say, and that she looked white and tired. But Gay, her spirits rising in the wintry air, was in her most rollicking mood. Even Kitty had never known her to say so many funny things or to tell so many amusing experiences. She followed on behind with Lloyd, watching admiringly as Gay"s bright face was turned first toward Malcolm, then toward Rob, jubilant to see that her guest was captivating them as she did every one else who fell under the charm of her vivacious manner.
Betty and Allison were on ahead with Keith, keeping a sharp lookout for mistletoe. Lloyd scarcely heard what any one said. She plodded along like one in a dream. It was an effort just to lift her feet. Only one thing in life seemed desirable just then, that was her warm soft bed at home. If she could only creep into that and shut her tired eyes and lie there, she wouldn"t care if she didn"t waken for a month. She felt that it would be bliss to sleep through Christmas and the entire vacation.
The long walk came to an end at last. The roundabout route through Stone Hollow led them near Locust, and, with their arms full of mistletoe, the merry picnickers parted from Lloyd and Betty at the gate. Gay exclaimed enthusiastically over the beautiful old avenue, leading under the snow-covered locusts to the house, but to Lloyd"s relief her invitation to come in was refused. There were a dozen reasons why they could not stop, but they promised to be over early next morning.
"It has been the very loveliest picnic I ever went to in my whole life,"
declared Gay, as they turned away. "I"d like to turn around and do it all over again."
"So would I," echoed Betty, warmly. "I"m not at all tired."
Lloyd looked at her in vague wonder as they plodded up the avenue. "I don"t know what"s the mattah with me," she said, "that I couldn"t keep up with you all, unless it"s true what Miss Gilmer said. The ice is too thin for holiday dissipations, and this picnic was too great a weight for it."
Betty glanced at her white face anxiously. "Go and lie down the rest of the afternoon," she said. "I"ll tie up your packages."
"Oh, if you only would!" exclaimed Lloyd, gratefully. "But it seems too much to ask of any one. Don"t tell mothah that I got so woh"n out. I"ll be all right by evening."
"She hasn"t come home yet," said Betty, looking ahead of them at the smooth expanse of newly fallen snow. "There isn"t a track either of foot or wheel."
"Then maybe I"ll have time for a nap, and be all rested when she comes,"
said Lloyd. "I don"t want her to get any of Miss Gilmer"s notions about me."
CHAPTER IX.
A PROGRESSIVE CHRISTMAS PARTY
LLOYD stood at the window in the falling twilight and looked out across the snow. It had been an ideal Christmas Day. She could feel the chill of the white winter world outside as she leaned against the frosty pane, but in her scarlet dress, with the holly berries at her belt and in her hair, she looked the embodiment of Christmas warmth and cheer, and as if no cold could touch her.
The candles had not yet been lighted, but the room was filled with the ruddy glow of the big wood fire. It shone warmly on the frames of the portraits and the tall gilded harp with its shining strings, and gave a burnishing touch to Betty"s brown hair, as she stood by the piano, fingering for the hundredth time the presents she had received that day.
Her dress of soft white wool suggested, like Lloyd"s, the Yule-tide season, for in the belt and shoulder-knots of dull green velvet were caught cl.u.s.ters of mistletoe, the tiny waxen berries gleaming like pearls.
"Everything is _so_ lovely!" she sighed, happily, picking up her camera to admire it once more. It was her G.o.dmother"s gift, and the thing she had most longed to own.
She focussed it on Lloyd, who, in her scarlet dress, stood vividly outlined by the firelight against the curtains. "I took three pictures this morning while Rob was here, all snow scenes. The house, the locust avenue, and a group of little darkies running after your grandfather, calling out, "Chris"mus gif", Colonel!" I think I"d better carry my things all up to my room," she added, presently. "There"ll be so many people here soon, and so much moving around when the hunt begins, that they"ll be in the way."
"You"ll need a wheelbarrow to take them in," answered Lloyd, turning from the window to watch her gather them up. "You"d bettah call Walkah to help you."
"Santa Claus certainly was good to me," answered Betty, picking up Mr.
Sherman"s gift, a beautiful mother-of-pearl opera-gla.s.s. It was like the one he had given Lloyd, except for the difference in monograms. She rubbed it lovingly with her handkerchief, and laid it beside the camera to be carried up-stairs. There were books from the old Colonel, an ivory photograph-frame exquisitely carved from Lloyd. Dozens of little articles from the girls at school, and remembrances from nearly every friend in the Valley. There was more than her arms could hold, and, bringing a large tray from the dining-room, she made two trips up and down stairs with it before her treasures were all lodged safely in her room.
Left alone for the first time that busy day, Lloyd stood a moment longer peering out into the snowy twilight, and then crossed the room to the table where her gifts were spread out. There had never been so many for her since her days of dolls and dishes and woolly lambs. The opera-gla.s.ses like Betty"s were what she had wished for all year. The purse her grandfather had slipped into the toe of her stocking was the prettiest little affair of gray suede and silver she had ever seen. She had thought of a dozen delightful ways to spend the gold eagle which it held.
The book-rack which Betty had burnt for her, with her initials on each end, was already nearly filled with the books that different friends had sent her. Rob"s gift had been a book. So had Miss Allison"s and Mrs.
MacIntyre"s and the old family doctor"s. Malcolm had sent a great bunch of American Beauties. She drew the vase toward her and buried her face a moment in the delicious fragrance. Then she nibbled a caramel from Keith"s box of candy. The rosebud sachet-bag which Gay made lay in the box of handkerchiefs that good old Mom Beck had given her.
She patted the thick letter from Joyce that told so much of interest about Ware"s Wigwam. She intended to have the water-colour sketch of Squaw"s Peak framed to take back to school with her. Mary"s fat little fingers had braided the Indian basket which came with Joyce"s picture, and Jack himself had killed the wildcat, whose skin he sent to make a rug for her room. Lloyd was proud of that skin. As she stood smoothing the tawny fur, the diamond on her finger flashed like fire, and she stood turning her hand this way and that, that the glow of the flames might fall on her new ring.
It was a beautifully cut stone in an old-fashioned setting, with the word "_Amanthis_" engraved inside; but not for a fortune would Lloyd have had the little circlet changed to a modern setting. For just so had it been slipped on her grandmother"s finger at her fifteenth Christmas.
She had worn it until her daughter"s fifteenth Christmas, and now she, in turn, had given it to Lloyd. All day it had been a constant joy to her. Aside from the pleasure of possessing such a beautiful ring, she had a feeling that in its flashing heart was crystallized a triple happiness,--the joy of three Christmas days: hers, her mother"s, and the beautiful young girl with the June rose in her hair, who smiled down at her from the portrait over the mantel.
She smiled up at it now in the same confiding way she had done as a child, saying, in a low tone: "And when you played on the harp, it flashed on yoah hand just as it does on mine." Pleased by the fancy, she crossed the room and struck a few chords on the harp, watching the firelight flash on the ring as she did so.
""Sing me the songs that to me were so deah, Long, long ago, long ago!""
There was a step in the hall, and the portieres were pushed aside as the old Colonel came in. She did not stop, for she knew he loved the old song, and that she was helping to bring back his happy past, when he threw himself into a chair before the fire, and sat looking up at Amanthis.
When she had finished the song, she perched herself on the arm of his chair, and began ruffling up his white hair with the little hand which wore the diamond.