Marjorie at Seacote

And then they all waited patiently for the time to take it out.

CHAPTER XV

A MOTOR RIDE

"Isn't it done yet?" asked King, after half an hour had elapsed.

"Nope," returned Kitty, positively. "It can't be done till three-quarters of an hour, and it's only a half."

"Smells done!" exclaimed Marjorie, sniffing "I believe it's burning, Kit."

"Pshaw, it can't be burning. That isn't a hot fire, is it, King?"

"No," replied King, after removing one of the range covers and scrutinizing the fire. "That's what the cook books call a moderate fire."

"Then that's all right," and Kitty wagged her head in satisfaction. "Sponge cake requires a mod-rit fire."

"But it's leaking out, Kitty!" cried Marjorie, dancing about the kitchen. "Oh, look, it's leaking out!"

Sure enough, smoke was coming out through the edges of the oven door, and a sticky substance began to ooze through.

"The door isn't shut quite tight," began Kitty, but before she could finish, King flung the oven door wide open.

"Better see what's up!" he said, and as the smoke poured out in a volume, and then cleared away a little, a strange sight confronted them.

The cake dough had apparently multiplied itself by ten, if not more. It had risen and run all over the sides of the pan, had dripped down through the grating to the bottom of the oven, and had bubbled up from there all over the sides and door. In fact the oven was lined with a sticky, sizzling, yellow material that had turned brown in some places, and was burned black in others.

"Something must have gone wrong," said Kitty, calmly, as she looked at the ruins. "I was almost sure it didn't need any baking powder. That's what blew it up so."

"H'm," said King. "I don't believe I care for any. Wonder what became of the raisins?"

"You can see them here and there," said Marjorie. "Those burned black spots are raisins. Phew! how it smokes! I'm going out."

"Let's call Ellen," said Kitty, "she said to."

Being summoned, Ellen arrived on the scene of action.

"Arrah, Miss Kitty," she said; "shure, an' I thought ye cuddent make cake. Now, why did ye thry, an' put all in such a pother? Belikes ye want to make me throuble."

"No, Ellen," said Kitty, smiling at her. "I didn't do it purposely for that. I thought it would be good. You see, I did make it once, and it was good."

"Ah, go 'long wid yez,—all of yez! Shure I'll be afther clanin' up. An' niver a shcold I'll shcold yez if ye'll kape outen o' my kitchen afther this."

"Good for you, Ellen!" shouted King. "I thought you'd raise a row! Nice Ellen, good Ellen! Good-bye, Ellen!"

"Good-bye, ye bad babies! I'll make ye some tea-cakes now as ye can eat!"

"Isn't she a duck!" exclaimed Kitty.

"Oh, that's 'cause you're sort of company. If you hadn't been here, and we'd done that she'd have tuned up, all right!"

This was King's opinion, and Marjorie agreed with him. "We never go in the kitchen," she said. "I guess Ellen was so surprised she didn't know what to say."

"Well," said Kitty, quite undisturbed by the circumstances, "you see, at Grandma's, Eliza helps me, and sort of superintends what I put in."

"Yes, I see," said King. "Now you do a lot of cooking after you get back there, Kit, and try to learn your recipes better."

Kitty laughed and promised, and then the three children wandered into the dining-room to see what their elders were doing.

"Can't we start at once?" Cousin Ethel was saying. "Oh, here are the kiddies now! Come in, you three blessings in disguise! Do you want to go on a jamboree?"

"What's that?" asked Kitty.

"Oh, a lovely motor ride, with two cars, and stay all night, and lots of lovely things like that!"

"Oh, goody!" cried Marjorie. "Are we really going? Mother's been talking about a trip like that!"

"I guess we will," said Mr. Maynard. "We haven't had an Ourday for some time. How would you like to take the opportunity for one while we have Kitty-girl among us?"

"Gorgiferous! Gay!" cried Marjorie, and King threw his cap high in the air and caught it deftly on his head.

"When do we start?"

"As soon as we can get off," said Mr. Maynard, looking at his watch. "Scamper, you kiddies, and get into appropriate rigs."

"Oh, what fun!" cried Marjorie, as they flew upstairs. "What shall we wear, Mothery?"

"You'll find your frocks laid out in your rooms," said Mrs. Maynard, who was prepared for this question. "Then put on your motor coats and take your motor bonnets with you,—but you needn't wear them unless you choose."

The girls danced away, and soon were in full regalia. They went flying downstairs to learn more of the particulars of the trip. Nurse Nannie and Rosy Posy were on the porch waiting, the little one greatly excited at thought of the journey.

"Oh, what a grand Ourday, Father!" cried Midget, giving him one of her most ferocious "bear hugs." "We have so much vacation down here, I thought we wouldn't catch any Ourdays!"

"Well, this is an extra thrown in for good measure. I suppose you don't care, Midget, which car you ride in?"

"Not a bit! We keep together, don't we?"

"Yes, as much as possible. Cousin Jack will drive his own car, and Pompton, of course, will drive ours."

"It all happened so swift I can hardly realize it," said Kitty. "Only a minute or two ago I was making cake in the kitchen, and now here I am!"

"Making what?" asked King, teasingly, but when he saw Kitty look red and embarrassed he turned the subject.

Kitty had told her mother about the cake episode, but Mrs. Maynard said it was an accident due to inexperience, and nothing further need be said about it.

"I'll divide up the passengers," said Cousin Jack as, with the two cars standing in front of the door, no one knew just which to get in.

"Ethel and I will take Marjorie and King with us, for I think Kitty will want to ride with her mother, and Babykins, too."

"All right," agreed Mr. Maynard, and then he packed Uncle Steve and Mrs. Maynard and Kitty on the back seat, Nannie and Rosamond next in front, and he climbed up beside Pompton.

Some suitcases and a basket of light luncheon were stowed away, and off they started, Ellen and Sarah waving to them from the steps as they flew down the drive. It was a perfect day for motoring. Not too hot, not too breezy, and no dust.

Their destination was Lakewood, but for quite a distance their road lay along by the shore before they turned inland.

Marjorie sat back, beside Cousin Ethel, and King sat in front with Cousin Jack.

"Let's play Roadside Euchre," said Midget.

"We go too fast for that," said King. "We couldn't see the things to count them."

"What is it, Mehitabel?" asked Cousin Jack. "We aren't going so very fast."

"Why, you count the things on each side of the road. You and I are on the right, you know, Cousin Jack, so we count all on this side. Then Cousin Ethel and King count all on their side."

"All what?"

"Well, a horse and vehicle counts one; a vehicle with two horses counts two; and a horse without any wagon or carriage counts five. An automobile counts ten; a herd of cows, fifteen; and a load of hay, twenty. A cat in a window counts twenty-five, and people count five apiece. Any animal, not a horse counts ten."

"But, as I am driving," said Cousin Jack, "I can turn either side, and so make them count as I like."

"No, you must turn just as you would, anyway. Of course, as you turn to the right, King and Cousin Ethel will count most of the vehicles we pass; but we'll make up some other way. Oh, here's a flock of chickens! I forgot to tell you, chickens count one each."

The motor seemed to go right through the flock of chickens, but Cousin Jack was a careful driver and didn't harm one of them. There was a terrific squawking and peeping and clucking as the absurd bipeds ran about in an utterly bewildered manner. The children and Cousin Ethel managed to count them fairly well, but Cousin Jack had to manage his motor.

"How many?" he asked as the last hen was left behind.

"Fourteen for our side," announced Midget, triumphantly.

"And nine for us," said King. "Never mind, we'll make up later."

But they kept fairly even. To be sure, when they met motor-cars, or any vehicles, they had to turn out to the right, which gave the count to King's side.

But on the other hand, motors sometimes passed them from behind, and if they went along on the right side they were Marjorie's count. Houses were as apt to be on one side as the other, and these added their count of dogs, cats, chickens, and cows, as well as occasional human beings.

Going through small towns was the most fun, for then it required quick counting to get all that belonged to them.

A flock of birds on either side was counted, but a flock of birds that crossed their path was omitted, as it would have counted the same for each.

The game grew more and more exciting. Sometimes one side would be more than a hundred ahead, and then the balance would swing back the other way. About six o'clock they neared Lakewood.

"The game stops as we turn into the main street," said Cousin Jack, "and the prize is this: whichever of you two children win shall select the dessert at the hotel dinner to-night."

"All right," said Marjorie, "but it isn't only us children. We each have a partner who must help us in the selection."

Cousin Jack agreed to this, and in a moment the car swung into the main street of Lakewood.

Midget and King, who had kept account of their hundreds on a bit of paper, began to add up, and it was soon found that Marjorie and Cousin Jack's side had won by about two hundred points.

"Good work!" cried King. "We losers congratulate you, and beg you'll remember that we love ice cream!"

They were following the Maynards' big car, and soon both cars stopped and all alighted and went into a beautiful hotel called "Holly-in-the-Woods."

"Oh, how lovely!" whispered Marjorie to Kitty, as she squeezed her sister's arm. "Isn't this fun, Kit?"

"I should say so!" returned Kitty. "The best Ourday ever!"

Then the children were whisked away to tidy up for dinner, and fresh white frocks were found in the suitcases. Midget and Kitty tied each other's ribbons, and soon were ready to go downstairs again. The Bryants met them in the hall, and took them down.

"Isn't it like Fairyland!" said Marjorie, enchanted by the palms and flowers and lights and music. She had never before been in such an elaborate hotel, and she wanted to see it all.

They walked about, and looked at the various beautiful rooms, and then Mr. and Mrs. Maynard came, and they all went to the dining-room.

A table had been reserved for them, and Marjorie felt very grown up and important as the waiter pushed up her chair. After their long ride, their appetites were quite in order to do justice to the good things put before them, and when it was time for dessert, Cousin Jack announced that he and Marjorie were a committee of two to select it.

"Though of course," he added, "any one who doesn't care for what we choose is entirely at liberty to choose something else."

So the two gravely studied the menu, and kept the others in suspense while they read over the long list. Many names were in French, but Marjorie skipped those.

"Ice cream," Kitty kept whispering, in low but distinct stage whispers; and at last Cousin Jack proposed to Midget that they choose what was billed as a "Lakewood Souvenir."

Marjorie had no idea what this might be, but she agreed, for she felt sure it was something nice.

And so it was, for it turned out to be ice cream, but so daintily put up in a little box that it was like a present. The box was carved with crinkly paper, and had a pretty picture of Lakewood scenery framed in gilt on the top. After every one had eaten his ice cream, the boxes were carried away as souvenirs.

Then they all went out and sat on the terrace while the elders had coffee. The three children did not drink coffee, so they were allowed to run around the grounds a little.

"How long are we going to stay here?" asked Kitty.

"Till to-morrow afternoon, I think," replied King. "I heard Father say he thought he'd do that."

"I think it's beautiful," said Midget, "but I'd just as lieve be riding, wouldn't you, Kit?"

"Oh, I don't care. I like 'em both,—first one and then the other."

Kitty was of a contented disposition, and usually liked everything. But the other two were also easily pleased, and the three agreed that they didn't care whether they were motoring or staying at the lovely hotel.

"Now, then, little Maynards, bed for yours!" announced their father, as he came strolling out to find them.

"Father," said Marjorie, grasping his hand, "is this really an Ourday?"

"Yes, Midget; of course it is. You don't mind the Bryants sharing it, do you?"

"No, not a bit. Only,—to-morrow can't I ride with you? If it's our Ourday, I like better to be by you."

"Of course you can!" cried Mr. Maynard, heartily. "We'll fix it somehow."

"But don't tell Cousin Ethel and Cousin Jack that I don't want to ride with them," went on Midget, "because it might hurt their feelings. But you know,—when I thought I didn't have any father,—I thought about all our Ourdays, and–"

Midget's voice broke, and Mr. Maynard caught her to him.

"My darling little girl," he said, "I'm so glad you're back with us for our Ourdays, and you shall ride just where you want to."

"Let her take my place," said Kitty, kindly. "I'd just as lieve go in the other car, and I don't wonder Midget feels like that."

So it was settled that Kitty should ride with the Bryants next day, and then the three children were sent to bed, while the elders stayed up a few hours later.

The girls had a large room, with two beds, and with a delightful balcony, on which a long French window opened.

"Isn't it wonderful?" said Marjorie, softly, as she stepped over the sill, and stood in the soft moonlight, looking down on the hotel flower gardens.

"Yes, indeedy," agreed Kitty; "I say, Mops, I'd like to jump down, flip! into that geranium bed!"

"Oh, Kitty, what a goose you are! Don't do such a thing!"

"I'm not going to. I only said I'd like to; and I'd play it was a sea,—a geranium sea, and I'd swim around in it."

"Kit, you're crazy! Come on to bed, before you do anything foolish."

"I'm not going to do it, really, Mops! but I like to imagine it. I'd waft myself off of this balcony, and waft down to the scarlet of the geraniums and fall in."

"Yes, and be picked up with two broken legs and a sprained ankle!"

"Well—and then I'd see a little boat, on the red geranium sea,—I'd be a fairy, you know,—and I'd get in the little boat–"

"You come and get in your little bed, Miss Kitty," said Nannie, from the window, and laughing gayly, the two girls went in and went to bed.

"Anyway, I'm going to dream of that red geranium bed," announced Kitty, as she cuddled into the smooth, white sheets.

"All right," said Midget, drowsily; "dream anything you like."

CHAPTER XVI

RED GERANIUMS

Wearied by the journey, and the fun of it, Marjorie fell at once into a deep, quiet sleep. Kitty's sleep was deep, too, but not quiet. The child tossed around and waved her arms, muttering about a geranium sea, and a little boat on it.

Nurse Nannie puttered about the room for some time, picking up things, and laying out the girls' clothes for the next day. Then she put out the lights and went away to her own room.

It was, perhaps, ten o'clock when Kitty threw back the bedclothing, and slowly got out of bed. She was sound asleep, and she walked across the room with a wavering, uncertain motion, but went straight to the French window, which was still part way open.

Kitty had sometimes walked in her sleep before, but it was not really a habit with her, and the family had never thought it necessary to safeguard her.

It was a still, warm night, and when she stepped out on the balcony, there was no breeze or waft of cool air to awaken her.

She paused at the low rail of the little balcony, and murmured, "Oh, the lovely soft red flowers! I will lie down on them!" and over the railing she went, plump down into the geranium bed!

As is well known, a fall is not apt to hurt a somnambulist, for the reason that in sleep the muscles are entirely relaxed; but the jar woke Kitty, and she found herself, clad only in her little white nightgown, lying in the midst of the red blossoms.

She did not scream; on the contrary, she felt a strange sense of delight in the odorous flowers and the scent of the warm, soft earth.

But in a moment she realized what had happened, and scrambled up into a sitting posture.

"My gracious! it's Kit!" exclaimed a voice, and from among the group of people on the veranda Cousin Jack ran down to her. The others followed, and in a moment Kitty was surrounded by her own people. She flew to her mother's arms, and Cousin Ethel quickly drew off her own evening wrap and put it around Kitty.

"How did you happen to fall?" asked her father, who soon saw she was not hurt, or even badly jarred.

"I was asleep, I guess," Kitty returned; "anyway I dreamed that I wanted to jump in the red geranium sea,—so I jumped."

"You jumped! out of the window?"

"Yes,—that is, off of the little balcony. You see, I was asleep until I landed. Then I found out where I was."

Kitty was quite calm about it, and cuddled into the folds of Cousin Ethel's satin cloak, while she told her story.

"Of course, I shouldn't have jumped if I had been awake," she said; "but you can't help what you do in your sleep, can you?"

"No," said Uncle Steve; "you weren't a bit to blame, Kitsie, and I'm thankful you came down so safely. But I think that window must be fastened before you go to sleep again. One such escapade is enough for one night."

The other guests on the veranda looked curiously at the group, but Kitty was protected from view by her own people, and, too, the big cloak hid all deficiencies of costume.

"Well, we have to get used to these unexpected performances," said Mr. Maynard, "but I do believe my children are more ingenious than others in trumping up new games."

"We are," said Kitty, "but usually it's Midget who does the crazy things. King and I don't cut up jinks much."

"That's so," agreed Uncle Steve. "Last summer Miss Mischief kept us all in hot water. But this year, Kitsie has been a model of propriety. She never walks out of second-story windows when she's at our house. I guess I'd better take her back there."

"Not to-morrow," said Kitty. "Wait till next day, won't you, Uncle Steve?"

"All right; day after to-morrow, then. But we mustn't stay away from Grandma longer than that."

"And now I think our adventurous little explorer must go back to her dreams," said Mrs. Maynard. "Who wants to carry her upstairs?"

As Uncle Steve was the biggest and strongest of the three men, he picked up the young sleepwalker, and started off with her. Mrs. Maynard followed, and they soon had Kitty safely in bed again, with the French window securely fastened against any further expeditions.

The mother sat by the little girl until she went to sleep, and this time her slumber was untroubled by dreams of geranium seas with fairy boats on them.

Next morning, Marjorie was greatly interested in Kitty's story.

"Oh, Kit," she exclaimed, "I wish I had seen you step off! Though, of course, if I had seen you, you wouldn't have done it! For I should have waked you up. Well, it's a wonder you didn't smash yourself. Come on, let's hurry down and look at that flower bed."

But by the time the girls got down there, the hotel gardener had remade the flower bed, and it now looked as if no one had ever set foot on it.

"Pshaw!" said Marjorie, "they've fixed it all up, and we can't even see where you landed. Did it make a big hole, Kit?"

"I don't know, Mops. About as big as I am, I suppose. Can't you imagine it?"

Marjorie laughed. "Yes, I can imagine you landing there, in your nightgown and bare feet! How you must have looked!"

"I s'pose I did. But, somehow, Mops, when I found myself there, it didn't seem queer at all. I just wanted to float on the red flowers."

"Kit, I do believe you're half luny," observed King; "you have the craziest ideas. But I'm jolly glad you didn't get hurt, you old sleep-trotter!" and the boy pulled his sister's curls to express his deep affection and gratitude for her safety.

Kitty was none the worse for her fall. The soft loam of the newly made flower bed had received her gently, and not even a bruise had resulted.

But the elders decided that hereafter the exits from Kitty's bedroom must be properly safeguarded at night, as no one could tell when the impulse of sleep-walking might overtake her.

There was plenty to do at Lakewood. Uncle Steve took the children for a brisk walk through the town, and bought them souvenirs of all sorts. The shops displayed tempting wares, and the girls were made happy by bead necklaces and pretty little silk bags, while King rejoiced in queer Indian relics found in a curio shop. Then back to the hotel, for a game of tennis and a romp with Cousin Jack, and in the afternoon a long motor ride, with occasional stops for ice cream soda or peanuts.

And the next day Kitty and Uncle Steve went home. They concluded to take the train from Lakewood, and not return again to Seacote.

"Grandma will be getting anxious to see us," Uncle Steve declared. "I did not intend to stay as long as this when I left home."

"Good-bye, old Kitsie," said Midget; "don't walk into any more red seas, and write to me often, won't you?"

"Yes, I will, Midge; but you don't write very often, yourself."

"I know it; it's a sort of a bother to write letters. But I love to get them."

"Well, the summer will be over pretty soon," returned Kitty, "and then we'll all be back in Rockwell."

The Maynard children were philosophical, and so they parted with cheery good-byes, and the train steamed away with Uncle Steve and Kitty waving from the window.

"Now, for our own plans," said Mr. Maynard. "What shall we do next, Jack?"

"I know what I'd like," said Cousin Ethel.

"What is it, my Angel?" asked her husband. "You may most certainly have anything you want."

"Well, instead of going right back to Seacote, I'd like to go to Atlantic City."

"You would!" said Mr. Bryant. "And would you like to go around by Chicago, and stop at San Francisco on your way home?"

"No," said Cousin Ethel, laughing; "and I don't think Atlantic City is so very far. We could go there to-day, stay over to-morrow, and back to Seacote the day after. What do you think, Jack?"

"I think your plan is great! And I'm more than ready to carry it out, if these Maynards of ours agree to it."

"I'd like it," declared Marjorie. "I've never been to Atlantic City."

"But it isn't exactly a summer place, is it?" asked Mrs. Maynard.

"Neither is Lakewood," said Cousin Ethel. "But it's a cool spell just now, and I think it would be lots of fun to run down there."

"All right," said Mr. Maynard, "let's run."

And run they did. Considering they had nine people and two motors, and several suitcases to look after, they displayed admirable expedition in getting started, and just at dusk they came upon the brilliant radiance of the lights of Atlantic City.

"This was a fine idea of yours, Ethel," said Mrs. Maynard. "This place looks very attractive."

"Oh, isn't it!" cried Marjorie. "I think it's grand! Can't we stay up late to-night, Mother?"

"You may stay up till nine o'clock, Midget, and we'll go down and see the crowds on the Boardwalk."

So after dinner they went down to the gay thoroughfare known as the Boardwalk. It was crowded with merry, laughing, chattering people, and Midget danced along in an ecstasy of enjoyment.

"I never saw such a lot of people!" she exclaimed. "Where are they all going?"

"Nowhere in particular," said her father. "They're just out here to look at each other and enjoy themselves."

"See those funny chairs, on rollers," went on Midget. "Oh, can't we ride in them? Everybody else does."

"Of course we must," said her father. "It's part of the performance."