*CHAPTER VI*
*WHITE HYACINTHS*
It had been decided to leave Kit and Jean behind to finish theirschooling. They could board at the Phelpses' home next to Shady Covealong the shore road, but both girls begged to go with the family.
"Why don't you stay?" advised Helen. "You'll escape all of the movingand settling and ploughing."
"We don't want to escape anything," said Kit firmly. "It isn't any funbeing left behind with the charred remains."
"Oh, Kit, don't call them that; it's grewsome," begged Doris.
"I don't care. I feel grewsome when I think of being left behind. Howdo you suppose we'd feel to walk past the Cove and not see any of therest of you around."
"It's better than being cut right bang off in the middle of everything,"replied Helen, with one of her rare explosions. Whenever wrath decidedto perch for a minute on her flaxen hair, it always delighted the othergirls. Kit said it was precisely like watching a kitten arch its backand scold. "Everything," she repeated tragically. "I can't finish asingle thing and I know I'll never pass, being switched off to goodnessknows what sort of a school."
"Let's not grouch anyway," counseled Jean. "Mother's getting thinnerevery day. As long as it's got to be, tighten your belts and face theenemy. Right about face! Forward! March!"
"I do wish that Kit wouldn't be so happy about things that make you justmiserable."
Kit danced away down the hallway warbling sweetly:
"Gondolier, row, row! Gondolier, row, row! 'Tis a pretty air I do declare, But it haunts a body so."
"You're an old tease, Kit," Jean admonished in her very best big-sisterstyle. "Please keep away from that crate of perishable matter. Mother'sjust promised me that we can go with the rest, only I'm going up firstwith Dad and Miss Patterson."
It had been decided to send Mr. Robbins up before the moving, so hecould have a week or two of rest at Maple Lawn, Cousin Roxana's home.The latter was diligently sending down descriptions of adjacent farmsand all sorts of home possibilities, but none seemed to fit the bill, asshe said. Either there was too much land, or not enough, or it was toofar from the village or not far enough, or too much room, or not roomenough.
"For pity's sake," Kit said one night, after all the family hadsuggested various styles in nests, "let's all tent out and do summerlight housekeeping. We'll never find just what we want,--never, Mumsie.Jean wants a rose garden and a sun dial. I want golf links, or at leasta tennis court, even if we remove the hay fields. Helen wants wistariaarbors and a very large vine-covered porch. Doris wants a dog, fourcats, a hive of bees, a calf, and a pony. You want a house facingsouth, far back from the road, barn not too near, dry cellar, porch,century-old elms for shade, good well, sink in house, and option ofpurchase, not over ten dollars a month."
"What do you want, Dad?" asked Jean. It was one of her father's "good"days, when he was able to sit up in his big Morris chair before the firein the upstairs living-room, and be one of the circle with them.
"Peace and rest," smiled Mr. Robbins.
"Me too," Kit agreed, kneeling beside his chair and rubbing her head upand down his arm. "Dad and I are going to seek gracious peace thelivelong day under some shady chestnut tree."
"Dad may, but you won't, Kathleen," Jean laughingly prophesied. "It'sgoing to be the commonwealth of home."
"Wish we were going to an island," Helen said wistfully. "I've alwaysfelt as if I could do wonders with an island."
"Anybody could. There's some chance for imagination to work on anisland, but what can you do with a farm in Gilead Center?" Kit lookedlike a pensive parrot, head on one side, eyes half closed in melancholyanticipation. "Darling, precious old Dad here doesn't know a blessedthing about farming--"
"Now, Kit, go easy," Mr. Robbins chided. "Seneca farmed and so did Ovid.It's all in the way you look at things."
"'Under the greenwood tree,' you know, Kit," added Jean.
"Yes, and that ends with a fatal warning too," Kit rejoined mournfully,"'While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.'"
"We'll all be keeling pots, Kathleen. It's the Robbins' destiny. Youknow, Dad, I thought all along that Tekla would go with us. I thoughtshe'd feel hurt if we didn't take her, after she'd been telling us girlsall these fairy tales about her native land where she loved to milktwenty cows at three A.M. I thought she'd simply leap at the chance ofrural delights, and now she isn't going along with us at all. She saysshe won't go anywhere unless there are street pianos and movingpictures."
Jean's face was deliciously comical as she recounted the backsliding ofTekla, and Helen chanted softly:
"Knowest thou the land, Mignon?"
"You can laugh all you want to, but it's a serious proposition,Helenita. If Tekla deserts, we'll all have to pitch in. The Nestexpects that every robin will do its duty."
"Oh, I don't believe it's going to be nearly as bad as we expect," Mrs.Robbins said happily, as she passed through the room with her pet cutglass candlesticks in her hands. "We're facing the summer, remember,girls, and I can't help but think that Cousin Roxana will be a regularbulwark of strength to all of us."
By the second week in March word came from the family's bulwark that shethought the weather was mild enough for Mr. Robbins and Miss Pattersonto attempt the trip. Accordingly, the first section of the caravan setout on its exodus to the promised land, as Kit called it.
"It does seem, Mother dear," Jean said at the last minute, "as if Kitought to go with them, and let me stay down here to help you close upthings."
"I'd rather have you with your Father." Mrs. Robbins laid her hands onJean's slender shoulders tenderly. "If I can't be with him, I'd ratherhave the little first mate. Remember how he used to call you that, whenyou were only Doris's size?"
"Well, I feel terribly grown up now, Mother. Seventeen is really thedividing line. You begin to think of everything in a more serious way,don't you know. When I look at Kit and Helen sometimes, it seems yearsand years since I felt the way they do, so sort of irresponsible."
"Poor old grandma," Mrs. Robbins laughed, as she kissed her. "We'llmake some nice little lace caps for you with lavender bows. MaybeCousin Roxy'll let you pour tea."
Jean had to laugh too, seeing the comic side of her aged feeling, but itwas true that she felt a new sense of responsibility when they left NewYork City for Gilead Center. The Saturday following their departure,the first carload of household goods left Shady Cove. It had been adifficult task, weeding out the necessities from the luxuries, as Kitexpressed it. Many a semi-luxury had been slipped in by the girls onthe plea that Father might need it, or would miss it. Kit had managedto save the entire library outfit intact on this excuse: threebookcases, leather couch, two wide leather arm-chairs, and theflat-topped mahogany desk.
"Books and pictures are necessities," she declared firmly, saving an oldsteel engraving of Touchstone and Audrey in the Forest of Arden. "This,for instance, has always hung over the little black walnut bookcase,hasn't it? Could we separate them? I guess not. In it goes, Helen,and see that you handle it with care. There's one thing that we can takeup with us, and no slings and arrows of outrageous Fortune can get itaway from us, either, and that's atmosphere. Even if we have to live ina well-shingled, airy barn, we can have atmosphere."
"Don't laugh, Dorrie," Helen admonished, as Doris dove into a mass ofpillows. "Kit doesn't mean that sort of atmosphere. She means--"
"I mean living in a garden of white hyacinths. Miss Carruthers, ourteacher at the art class, told us a story the other day about Mahometand his followers. He told them if they only had two pence, to spendone for a loaf of bread to feed the body, and the other for whitehyacinths to feed the soul. That's why I want all our own belovedthings around us, don't you know, Mother dear? Just think of Dad's faceif we can blindfold him, lead him into a lovely sunny room up there,take off the bandage, and let him find himself right in his own libraryjus
t as he had it down here!"
"And as long as he's going to stay in bed, or lie on a lounge, he'llnever know what the rest of the house is like," added Doris.
"But he's not going to stay in bed, we hope," answered the Motherbird,catching the youngest robin in her arms for a quick kiss. "That's whywe're going up there, to get him out into the sunlight as soon aspossible, so he'll get quite well again."
Kit passed down the stairs completely covered with the burden which shebore.
"I've got all the portieres, table covers, couch covers, scarfs anddoilies," she called. "We may have to turn the attic into a cosy cornerbefore we get through. It's all in the effect, isn't it, Mumsie?"
"I'm sorry that Dad sold the machine, that's all," Helen remarked.Helen was the far-sighted one of the family. "Talbot Pearson says heknows we could have gotten fifteen hundred for it just as easy as not.His mother told him it was worth every penny of fifteen hundred, and Dadlet it go for eight hundred just because he liked the Phelpses."
"Helen, dear, eight hundred cash is worth more than fifteen hundredpromised," Mrs. Robbins said, smiling over at her. "And the machine islast year's model. I'm glad with all my heart that Mr. Phelps boughtit, because they've been wanting one very much, and the children willget so much enjoyment out of it."
The girls looked down at her admiringly, almost gloatingly, as she satback contentedly in the low wicker arm-chair in the sunny bay-window.
"Mother, you're a regular darling, truly you are," Kit exclaimed."You're so big and fine and sympathetic that you make us feel like twocents sometimes when we've been selfish. Why do you look so happy wheneverything's going six ways for Sunday?"
Mrs. Robbins held up a letter that Doris had just brought upstairs toher.
"Cousin Roxana writes that Father stood the trip well and has sleptevery night since they reached Maple Lawn. Isn't that worth all theautomobiles in the world?"
The eight hundred dollars in cash had been a helpful addition to theirbank account. During the past few weeks, the girls had learned what itmeant to consider money, something they had never given a thought tobefore. While they had never been rich, there had always been anabundance of everything they wanted, with never a suggestion ofretrenching on expenses until now. Once they understood the situation,however, they all seemed to enjoy helping to solve the family problem.For several days Doris had appeared to have something on her mind.Finally, she came in smiling, and opened her hand, disclosing a tendollar bill. Kit fell gracefully over into a chair.
"Dorrie, you mustn't give your poor old sister sudden shocks like thatin these days," she exclaimed. "Where did you find that?"
"I sold Jiggers to Talbot Pearson," Doris replied, her eyes shining likestars. "He's been asking and asking for him ever since I got him, andnow I've done it. There's ten dollars I got all by myself to help Dad."
Neither Kit nor Helen spoke, but they regarded the youngest robin withthe deepest pride and affection. Jiggers was a Boston bull puppy, thespecial property of Doris, and they knew just what a heart-wrench it hadbeen to part with him. Mrs. Robbins took the crisp green bill fromDoris's hand, while the tears slowly gathered on her lashes.
"It's perfectly splendid of you, dear," she said.
Doris beamed and danced around on tiptoe like a captive butterfly, butthe family noticed she kept away from the spot where Jiggers' littlekennel had stood. There are some things the heart cannot quite bear.
Much debating was held over the piano. The girls loved it and declaredit could not be true economy to part with it. It was an Empire babygrand that had descended to them from the Riverside apartment days intown. Helen said she always expected to see it pick up its skirts andpirouette like Columbine, it was so gay and pretty in its gold case alldecorated in trailing flower garlands and little oval panels withWatteau figures treading gaysome measures in blossomy dells.
"Listen, Mother darling," Kit said finally, "you know what I told youabout white hyacinths. That precious old piano is a white hyacinth andwe'll starve our inmost souls if we try to live without it. Why, we'veloved it and pounded it for years."
So it was boxed and shipped to Gilead Center as a white hyacinth,together with many another disguised "necessity."
"They've turned into arrant smugglers," Mrs. Robbins wrote her husband."And I cannot blame them, because I catch myself doing the same thing,packing things I should not, and making myself believe they areessential. I'm sure I don't see where we are ever to put everything ina farm-house."
Cousin Roxana brightened up and smiled when that portion of the letterwas read aloud to her. She was sitting in a straight-backed,split-bottomed chair by the south window in the sitting-room, sortingout morning-glory and nasturtium seeds and putting them into bakingpowder boxes.
"Guess Betty'll hearten up some when she sees the Mansion House," shesaid.
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