It was not far to Longmeadow, but the tent was pitched and the wickets down by the time they arrived. A pleasant green field, with three wide-spreading oaks in the middle and a smooth strip of turf for croquet.
5
“Welcome to Camp Laurence!” said the young host, as they landed with exclamations of delight.
“Brooke is commander in chief, I am commissary general, the other fellows are staff officers, and you, ladies, are company. The tent is for your especial benefit and that oak is your drawing room, this is the messroom and the third is the camp kitchen. Now, let’s have a game before it gets hot, and then we’ll see about dinner.”
Frank, Beth, Amy, and Grace sat down to watch the game played by the other eight. Mr. Brooke chose Meg, Kate, and Fred; Laurie took Sallie, Jo, and Ned. The English played well, but the Americans played better, and contested every inch of the ground as strongly as if the spirit of ‘76 inspired them. Jo and Fred had several skirmishes and once narrowly escaped high words. Jo was through the last wicket and had missed the stroke, which failure ruffled her a good deal. Fred was close behind her and his turn came before hers, he gave a stroke, his ball hit the wicket, and stopped an inch on the wrong side. No one was very near, and running up to examine, he gave it a sly nudge with his toe, which put it just an inch on the right side.
“I’m through! Now, Miss Jo, I’ll settle you, and get in first,” cried the young gentleman, swinging his mallet for another blow.
“You pushed it; I saw you; it’s my turn now,” said Jo sharply.
“Upon my word, I didn’t move it; it rolled a bit, perhaps, but that is allowed; so stand off, please, and let me have a go at the stake.”
“We don’t cheat in America, but you can, if you choose,” said Jo angrily.
“Yankees are a deal the most tricky, everybody knows. There you go!” returned Fred, croqueting her ball far away.
Jo opened her lips to say something rude, but checked herself in time, colored up to her forehead and stood a minute, hammering down a wicket with all her might, while Fred hit the stake and declared himself out with much exultation. She went off to get her ball, and was a long time finding it among the bushes, but she came back, looking cool and quiet, and waited her turn patiently. It took several strokes to regain the place she had lost, and when she got there, the other side had nearly won, for Kate’s ball was the last but one and lay near the stake.
“By George, it’s all up with us! Good-by, Kate. Miss Jo owes me one, so you are finished,” cried Fred excitedly, as they all drew near to see the finish.
“Yankees have a trick of being generous to their enemies,” said Jo, with a look that made the lad redden, “especially when they beat them,” she added, as, leaving Kate’s ball untouched, she won the game by a clever stroke.
Laurie threw up his hat, then remembered that it wouldn’t do to exult over the defeat of his guests, and stopped in the middle of a cheer to whisper to his friend, “Good for you, Jo! He did cheat, I saw him; we can’t tell him so, but he won’t do it again, take my word for it.”
Meg drew her aside, under pretense of pinning up a loose braid, and said approvingly, “It was dreadfully provoking, but you kept your temper, and I’m so glad, Jo.”
“Don’t praise me, Meg, for I could box his ears this minute. I should certainly have boiled over if I hadn’t stayed among the nettles till I got my rage under enough to hold my tongue. It’s simmering now, so I hope he’ll keep out of my way,” returned Jo, biting her lips as she glowered at Fred from under her big hat.
“Time for lunch,” said Mr. Brooke, looking at his watch. “Commissary general, will you make the fire and get water, while Miss March, Miss Sallie, and I spread the table? Who can make good coffee?”
“Jo can,” said Meg, glad to recommend her sister. So Jo, feeling that her late lessons in cookery were to do her honor, went to preside over the coffeepot, while the children collected dry sticks, and the boys made a fire and got water from a spring near by. Miss Kate sketched and Frank talked to Beth, who was making little mats of braided rushes to serve as plates.
The commander in chief and his aides soon spread the tablecloth with an inviting array of eatables and drinkables, prettily decorated with green leaves. Jo announced that the coffee was ready, and everyone settled themselves to a hearty meal, for youth is seldom dyspeptic, and exercise develops wholesome appetites. A very merry lunch it was, for everything seemed fresh and funny, and frequent peals of laughter startled a venerable horse who fed near by. There was a pleasing inequality in the table, which produced many mishaps to cups and plates, acorns dropped into the milk, little black ants partook of the refreshments without being invited, and fuzzy caterpillars swung down from the tree to see what was going on. Three white-headed children peeped over the fence, and an objectionable dog barked at them from the other side of the river with all his might and main.
“There’s salt here, if you prefer it,” said Laurie, as he handed Jo a saucer of berries.
“Thank you, I prefer spiders,” she replied, fishing up two unwary little ones who had gone to a creamy death. “How dare you remind me of that horrid dinner party, when yours is so nice in every way?” added Jo, as they both laughed and ate out of one plate, the china having run short.
“I had an uncommonly good time that day, and haven’t got over it yet. This is no credit to me, you know, I don’t do anything; it’s you and Meg and Brooke who make it go, and I’m no end obliged to you. What shall we do when we can’t eat any more?” asked Laurie, feeling that his trump card had been played
by
when lunch was over.
“Have games till it’s cooler. I brought Authors
bz
, and I dare say Miss Kate knows something new and nice. Go and ask her; she’s company, and you ought to stay with her more.”
“Aren’t you company too? I thought she’d suit Brooke, but he keeps talking to Meg, and Kate just stares at them through that ridiculous glass of hers. I’m going, so you needn’t try to preach propriety, for you can’t do it, Jo.”
Miss Kate did know several new games, and as the girls would not, and the boys could not, eat any more, they all adjourned to the drawing room to play Rig-marole.
“One person begins a story, any nonsense you like, and tells as long as he pleases, only taking care to stop short at some exciting point, when the next takes it up and does the same. It’s very funny when well done, and makes a perfect jumble of tragical comical stuff to laugh over. Please start it, Mr. Brooke,” said Kate, with a commanding air, which surprised Meg, who treated the tutor with as much respect as any other gentleman.
Lying on the grass at the feet of the two young ladies, Mr. Brooke obediently began the story, with the handsome brown eyes steadily fixed upon the sunshiny river.
“Once on a time, a knight went out into the world to seek his fortune, for he had nothing but his sword and his shield. He traveled a long while, nearly eight-and-twenty years, and had a hard time of it, till he came to the palace of a good old king, who had offered a reward to anyone who would tame and train a fine but unbroken colt, of which he was very fond. The knight agreed to try, and got on slowly but surely, for the colt was a gallant fellow, and soon learned to love his new master, though he was freakish and wild. Every day, when he gave his lessons to this pet of the king‘s, the knight rode him through the city; and, as he rode, he looked everywhere for a certain beautiful face, which he had seen many times in his dreams, but never found. One day, as he went prancing down a quiet street, he saw at the window of a ruinous castle the lovely face. He was delighted, inquired who lived in this old castle, and was told that several captive princesses were kept there by a spell, and spun all day to lay up money to buy their liberty. The knight wished intensely that he could free them, but he was poor and could only go by each day, watching for the sweet face and longing to see it out in the sunshine. At last he resolved to get into the castle and ask how he could help them. He went and knocked; the great door flew open, and he beheld—”
“A ravishingly lovely lady, who exclaimed, with a cry of rapture, ‘At last! At last!”’ continued Kate, who had read French novels, and admired the style. “ ” Tis she!‘ cried Count Gustave, and fell at her feet in an ecstasy of joy. ‘Oh, rise!’ she said, extending a hand of marble fairness. ‘Never! till you tell me how I may rescue you,’ swore the knight, still kneeling. ‘Alas, my cruel fate condemns me to remain here till my tyrant is destroyed.’ ‘Where is the villain?’ ‘In the mauve salon. Go, brave heart, and save me from despair.‘ ’I obey, and return victorious or dead!‘ With these thrilling words he rushed away, and flinging open the door of the mauve salon, was about to enter, when he received—”
“A stunning blow from the big Greek lexicon, which an old fellow in a black gown fired at him,” said Ned. “Instantly Sir What‘s-his-name recovered himself, pitched the tyrant out of the window, and turned to join the lady, victorious, but with a bump on his brow; found the door locked, tore up the curtains, made a rope ladder, got halfway down when the ladder broke, and he went head first into the moat, sixty feet below. Could swim like a duck, paddled round the castle till he came to a little door guarded by two stout fellows, knocked their heads together till they cracked like a couple of nuts, then, by a trifling exertion of his prodigious strength, he smashed in the door, went up a pair of stone steps covered with dust a foot thick, toads as big as your fist, and spiders that would frighten you into hysterics, Miss March. At the top of these steps he came plump upon a sight that took his breath away and chilled his blood—”
“A tall figure, all in white with a veil over its face and a lamp in its wasted hand,” went on Meg. “It beckoned, gliding noiselessly before him down a corridor as dark and cold as any tomb. Shadowy effigies in armor stood on either side, a dead silence reigned, the lamp burned blue, and the ghostly figure ever and anon turned its face toward him, showing the glitter of awful eyes through its white veil. They reached a curtained door, behind which sounded lovely music; he sprang forward to enter, but the specter plucked him back, and waved threateningly before him a—”
“Snuffbox,” said Jo, in a sepulchral tone, which convulsed the audience. “ ‘Thankee,’ said the knight politely, as he took a pinch and sneezed seven times so violently that his head fell off. ‘Ha! ha!’ laughed the ghost, and having peeped through the keyhole at the princesses spinning away for dear life, the evil spirit picked up her victim and put him in a large tin box, where there were eleven other knights packed together without their heads, like sardines, who all rose and began to—”
“Dance a hornpipe,”
ca
cut in Fred, as Jo paused for breath, “and, as they danced, the rubbishy old castle turned to a man-of-war
cb
in full sail. ‘Up with the jib, reef the tops’l halliards, helm hard alee, and man the guns!‘ roared the captain, as a Portuguese pirate hove
cc
in sight, with a flag black as ink flying from her foremast. ’Go in and win, my hearties!‘ says the captain, and a tremendous fight began. Of course the British beat, they always do.”
“No, they don‘t!” cried Jo, aside.
“Having taken the pirate captain prisoner, sailed slap
cd
over the schooner, whose decks were piled with dead and whose lee scuppers ran blood, for the order had been ‘Cutlasses, and die hard!’ ‘Bosun’s mate, take a bight of the flying-jib sheet, and start this villain if he doesn’t confess his sins double quick,’ said the British captain. The Portuguese held his tongue like a brick, and walked the plank, while the jolly tars cheered like mad. But the sly dog dived, came up under the man-of-war, scuttled her, and down she went, with all sail set, ‘To the bottom of the sea, sea, sea,’ where—”
6
“Oh gracious! what
shall
I say?” cried Sallie, as Fred ended his rig-marole, in which he had jumbled together pell-mell nautical phrases and facts out of one of his favorite books. “Well, they went to the bottom, and a nice mermaid welcomed them, but was much grieved on finding the box of headless knights, and kindly pickled them in brine, hoping to discover the mystery about them, for, being a woman, she was curious. By-and-by a diver came down, and the mermaid said, ‘I’ll give you this box of pearls if you can take it up,’ for she wanted to restore the poor things to life, and couldn’t raise the heavy load herself. So the diver hoisted it up, and was much disappointed on opening it to find no pearls. He left it in a great lonely field, where it was found by a—”
“Little goosegirl, who kept a hundred fat geese in the field,” said Amy, when Sallie’s invention gave out. “The little girl was sorry for them, and asked an old woman what she should do to help them. ‘Your geese will tell you, they know everything,’ said the old woman.
So she asked what she should use for new heads, since the old ones were lost, and all the geese opened their hundred mouths and screamed—”
“‘Cabbages!’” continued Laurie promptly. “‘Just the thing,’ said the girl, and ran to get twelve fine ones from her garden. She put them on, the knights revived at once, thanked her, and went on their way rejoicing, never knowing the difference, for there were so many other heads like them in the world that no one thought anything of it. The knight in whom I’m interested went back to find the pretty face, and learned that the princesses had spun themselves free and all gone to be married, but one. He was in a great state of mind at that; and mounting the colt, who stood by him through thick and thin, rushed to the castle to see which was left. Peeping over the hedge, he saw the queen of his affections picking flowers in her garden. ‘Will you give me a rose?’ said he. ‘You must come and get it. I can’t come to you, it isn’t proper,’ said she, as sweet as honey. He tried to climb over the hedge, but it seemed to grow higher and higher; then he tried to push through, but it grew thicker and thicker, and he was in despair. So he patiently broke twig after twig till he had made a little hole through which he peeped, saying imploringly, ‘Let me in! Let me in!’ But the pretty princess did not seem to understand, for she picked her roses quietly, and left him to fight his way in. Whether he did or not, Frank will tell you.”