Pearl had some anxious thoughts on the subject of a proper dress for Martha for the picnic, when she found that her best summer dress was a black muslin, which to Pearl seemed fit only for a funeral.
She wondered how to bring forward the subject without appearing rude, when Martha saved her from all further anxiety one day by coming over to ask her to help her to pick out a dress from the samples she had sent for. The magazine had begun to bear fruit.
They decided on a white muslin with a navy blue silk dot in it, and then Pearl suggested a blue ribbon girdle with long ends, a hat like Camilla"s, a blue silk parasol, and long blue silk gloves.
When Pearl saw Martha the day of the picnic, it just seemed too good to be true that Martha could look so nice. She had braided her hair the night before and made it all fluffy and wavy, and under the broad brim of her blue hat it didn"t look the colour of last year"s hay at all, Pearl thought. Martha herself seemed to feel less constrained and awkward than she ever did before. Mrs. Francis would have called it the "leaven of good clothes."
Pearl was wondering what she was going to do with Martha, now that she had got her there, when she saw Arthur Wemyss, the young Englishman.
She took him aside and said: "Arthur, you are the very fellow I want to see. I"ve got Martha Perkins with me to-day, and she"s pretty shy, you know--never been to any of these picnics before--and I"m so busy looking after all our young lads that I haven"t time to go around with her. Now, I wonder if you would take her around and be nice to her. Martha"s just a fine girl and young, too, if she only knew it, and she should be having a good time at picnics."
Arthur expressed his willingness to be useful. He would be glad, he said, to do his best to give Miss Martha a pleasant time.
And so it came about that Arthur, in his courteous way, escorted Martha through the throng of picnickers, found a seat for her at the table, and waited on her with that deference that seems to come so easy to the well-bred young Englishman.
Arthur was an open-hearted young fellow, and finding Martha very sympathetic, told her about his plans. Thursa was coming from England in December to marry him, and he was going to have a house put up just as soon as the harvest was over. His father had sent him the money, and so he was not depending entirely on the harvest. He showed her the plan of the house and consulted her on the best position for the cellar door and the best sort of cistern. He showed her a new photo of Thursa that he had just received. She was a fluffy-haired little thing in a much befrilled dress, holding a fan coquettishly behind her head. Martha noticed how fondly he looked at it, and for a moment a shivering sense of disappointment smote her heart. But she resolutely put it from her and feasted her eyes on the lovelight in his, even though she knew it was the face of another woman that had kindled it.
Arthur was a wholesome-looking young man, with a beaming face of unaffected good-humour, and to Martha it seemed the greatest happiness just to be near him and hear his voice. She tried to forget everything save that he was here beside her, for this one dear sweet afternoon.
When the thought of Thursa"s coming would intrude on her, or the bitterer thought still that she was only a plain, sunburnt, country girl, with rough hands and uncouth ways, she forced them away from her, even as you and I lie down again, and try to gather up the ravelled threads of a sweet dream, knowing well that it is only a dream and that waking time is drawing near, but holding it close to our hearts as long as we can.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE LACROSSE MATCH
What"s come of old Bill Lindsay and the Saxhorn fellers, say?
I want to hear the old band play.
_----James Whitcomb Riley._
THE great event of the Pioneers" Picnic was the lacrosse match between Millford and Hillsboro. It was held at three o"clock in the afternoon, and everybody was there.
The Millford lacrosse boys were in serious financial difficulty-- "everything gone but their honour," as one sentimental member had put it, and if the columns of the Hillsboro Gazette were to be trusted, that was gone, too. But in the big game on this occasion they hoped to retrieve their fallen fortunes.
Everybody felt that the real business of the day had begun when the two lacrosse teams drew up on the field. The women had finished their clearing up after dinner, and piled rhubarb leaves on their baskets to keep the eatables cool for supper.
Bud Perkins and Teddy Watson were playing for Millford, and Mrs.
Perkins, Mrs. Watson, and Aunt Kate were in a pleasurable state of excitement, though they told the other women over and over that lacrosse was a dangerous game, and they did not want the boys to play. Mrs. Breen, too, whose son Billy was Millford"s trusty forward, experienced a thrill of motherly pride when she heard the crowd breaking into cheers as the Millford boys in their orange and black jerseys lined up on the field.
Pearl had gathered up her four brothers after dinner and washed them clean at the river, also made repairs on their drooping stockings and twisted collars, and, holding tight to Danny, marshalled them across the end of the field to where Arthur and Martha sat with Jim and Camilla, and Tom Motherwell and Nellie Slater.
Dr. Clay came driving around the end of the field. When he saw Pearl he stopped and asked her if she would come and sit in his buggy to watch the game.
"I can"t leave the boys, thank you, doctor," she said; "there"s been three of them lost since noon, and they"ve all got their good clothes on."
"Well, of course, we"ll have to keep track of them, in that case," he said, smiling, "because it would be a real loss to lose them, clothes and all. I tell you what we"ll do, Pearl. I"ll give you the horse and buggy--pile them all in, and it will be the easiest way of minding them."
The doctor drove to a clear s.p.a.ce where the boys would have a good view of the game, and then went away to get a bag of peanuts for them.
In the centre of the field the referee placed the ball between Bud Perkins"s stick and McLaren"s, of Hillsboro. There was a moment of intense excitement and then away went the ball toward Hillsboro"s goal, half a dozen in pursuit. The whole field was alive with black and orange, blue and white, legs and arms and sticks darting in and out in a way that would make your eyes ache to follow them. Once the ball came to the side, causing a receding wave of fluttering muslin.
Mrs. Maxwell, whose son had that shade of hair which is supposed to indicate a hasty temper, was shouting directions to him as loudly as she could. Mrs. Maxwell"s directions were good ones, too, if Alec could only have followed them. "Shoot, Alec!" she called. "Shoot it in! Run, Alec! Shoot it in!"
Millford"s only lawyer, the dignified and stately Mr. Hawkins, came majestically down the line, carrying a camp stool under his arm. He had found it necessary to change his position, incensed at the undignified behaviour of the Hillsboro girls, who had taken up their position on one side of the field and were taking a lively interest in the game. He had ventured a slight rebuke, whereupon the whole battery of their indignation had been trained on him, with the result that he withdrew hastily. He sat down just in front of Mrs. Perkins and Mrs. Watson, and began to take an interest in the game. The ball was near Millford"s goal and a scrimmage was taking place, a solid knot of players that moved and writhed and twisted.
Suddenly Bud Perkins shot out from the others, carrying his stick high above his head as he, raced up the field. "Bud! Bud! Bud!"
Millford cried in an ecstasy of hope and fear. He sprang, dodged, whirled, the whole field in pursuit, and then, when in line with Hillsboro"s goal, he shot low and swift and sure!
A great cheer burst from the crowd, hats were thrown in the air, little boys turned handsprings, and Millford went stark, staring mad.
Mrs. Perkins was not naturally an excitable woman, and she looked the very soul of meekness in her respectable black dress and little black bonnet tied tightly under her chin, but if your only boy--the only living out of three--your boy that had been real delicate and hard to raise--if he had dodged the whole field and shot a goal, straight as a die, and the whole town were cheering for him, mad with joy, you might have been roused a bit, too. When Mrs. Perkins came to herself she was pounding her parasol on the broad, dignified shoulders of Millford"s most stately citizen, Mr. E. Cuthbert Hawkins, who moved away rather haughtily.
Over near the lemonade booth, Bud"s father was explaining to an interested group just how Bud came to be such a smart boy.
"Young Bud has never worked the way his dad did," he said. "I ain"t like some men that rob the cradle for farm hands and puts little lads building roads when they are so small they have to be weighted down with stones in their pockets to keep them from blowin" away. Young Bud has run in the pasture all his life, you may say, and it would be queer if he hadn"t some speed in him. He comes of pretty good stock, let me tell you, registered in every strain, if I do say it. Look at that for a well-rounded leg!" Mr. Perkins made it easy for every one to do so. "Eighteen inches around the calf, and tapered to the toe!"
He patted it lovingly. "I tell you, there was action there a few years ago!"
Meanwhile the play went on faster than ever. Hillsboro scored a goal through the Millford goal-keeper"s stick breaking, and the score stood one to one until within fifteen minutes of the time. The Millford boys were plainly nervous. Victory meant the district championship, and confusion to their enemies.
The game was close and hard--no long throws--every inch contested--it had ceased to be a game, it was a battle! One minute the ball went close to Millford"s goal and Mrs. Watson and Mrs. Perkins clutched each other"s hands in wordless dread; but the wiry form of Teddy Watson shot up in the air and the ball bounced back into the Millford captain"s stick. As he ran along the edge of the crowd with it, one of the Hillsboro girls slashed at him viciously with her red parasol.
The captain pa.s.sed the ball safely to Alec Maxwell, whose red hair made him a shining mark for the Hillsboro girls. But Sandy was not a bit disconcerted by their remarks. Big Dave Hunter, his check, was after him. Big Dave was a powerfully built fellow with a chest like a Clyde and a cheerful expanse of freckles. As Alec Maxwell threw the ball to Bud Perkins, Big Dave"s long reach intercepted it, and then he made one of those grand rushes for which he was known and dreaded by his opponents, and which are still remembered by the old boys who played the game. This time Dave"s good old trick miscarried, for Teddy Watson, slender as he was, neatly body-checked him--the ball fell from his stick into that of Alec Maxwell, who, boring his way through the Hillsboro defence, shot on goal and scored.
The home crowd went wild with cheers, for time was up, and the score stood two to one in Millford"s favour. Thomas Perkins was hilarious.
"Come on, John!" he said to John Watson, "let"s have a little Schlitz. I never take anything stronger now, since the boy grew up.
What! You don"t drink Schlitz? It"s harmless as hay-tea, but perhaps you"re right."
CHAPTER XIX
THE END OF THE GAME
Oh, Thou who hast lighted the sun, Oh, Thou who hast darkened the tare, Judge Thou The sin of the Stone that was hurled By the Goat from the light of the sun As she sinks in "the mire of the tarn.
_----Kipling._
WHEN Pearl got her four lively young charges settled down she had time to look about her. Up and down the line of spectators her eye searched for Libby Anne and Mrs. Cavers, but they were nowhere to be seen, and Pearl became more and more troubled.
"I"d like fine to see that faded old raincoat of hers," she said to herself, "and Lib"s little muslin hat"; but every raincoat that Pearl saw was new and fresh, and every muslin hat had a bright and happy little face under it, instead of Libby Anne"s pale cheeks and sad, big eyes.
Dr. Clay came over with a bag of popcorn for them, and Pearl told him the cause of her worry.