THE PETERKINS AT THE FARM.
YES, at last they had reached the seaside, after much talking anddeliberation, and summer after summer the journey had been constantlypostponed.
But here they were at last, at the "Old Farm," so called, where seasideattractions had been praised in all the advertisements. And here theywere to meet the Sylvesters, who knew all about the place, cousins ofAnn Maria Bromwick. Elizabeth Eliza was astonished not to find themthere, though she had not expected Ann Maria to join them till the verynext day.
Their preparations had been so elaborate that at one time the wholething had seemed hopeless; yet here they all were. Their trunks, to besure, had not arrived; but the wagon was to be sent back for them, and,wonderful to tell, they had all their hand-baggage safe.
Agamemnon had brought his Portable Electrical Machine and Apparatus, andthe volumes of the Encyclopaedia that might tell him how to manage it,and Solomon John had his photograph camera. The little boys had usedtheir india-rubber boots as portmanteaux, filling them to the brim, andcarrying one in each hand,--a very convenient way for travelling theyconsidered it; but they found on arriving (when they wanted to put theirboots directly on for exploration round the house), that it was somewhatinconvenient to have to begin to unpack directly, and scarcely roomenough could be found for all the contents in the small chamber allottedto them.
There was no room in the house for the electrical machine and camera.Elizabeth Eliza thought the other boarders were afraid of the machinegoing off; so an out-house was found for them, where Agamemnon andSolomon John could arrange them.
Mrs. Peterkin was much pleased with the old-fashioned porch andlow-studded rooms, though the sleeping-rooms seemed a little stuffy atfirst.
Mr. Peterkin was delighted with the admirable order in which the farmwas evidently kept. From the first moment he arrived he gave himselfto examining the well-stocked stables and barns, and the fields andvegetable gardens, which were shown to him by a highly intelligentperson, a Mr. Atwood, who devoted himself to explaining to Mr. Peterkinall the details of methods in the farming.
The rest of the family were disturbed at being so far from the sea, whenthey found it would take nearly all the afternoon to reach the beach.The advertisements had surely stated that the "Old Farm" was directly onthe shore, and that sea-bathing would be exceedingly convenient; whichwas hardly the case if it took you an hour and a half to walk to it.
Mr. Peterkin declared there were always such discrepancies between theadvertisements of seaside places and the actual facts; but he was morethan satisfied with the farm part, and was glad to remain and admire it,while the rest of the family went to find the beach, starting off in awagon large enough to accommodate them, Agamemnon driving the one horse.
Solomon John had depended upon taking the photographs of the family ina row on the beach; but he decided not to take his camera out the firstafternoon.
This was well, as the sun was already setting when they reached thebeach.
"If this wagon were not so shaky," said Mrs. Peterkin "we might driveover every morning for our bath. The road is very straight, and Isuppose Agamemnon can turn on the beach."
"We should have to spend the whole day about it," said Solomon John, ina discouraged tone, "unless we can have a quicker horse."
"Perhaps we should prefer that," said Elizabeth Eliza, a littlegloomily, "to staying at the house."
She had been a little disturbed to find there were not more elegant andfashionable-looking boarders at the farm, and she was disappointed thatthe Sylvesters had not arrived, who would understand the ways of theplace. Yet, again, she was somewhat relieved, for if their trunks didnot come till the next day, as was feared, she should have nothing buther travelling dress to wear, which would certainly answer for to-night.
She had been busy all the early summer in preparing her dresses forthis very watering-place, and, as far as appeared, she would hardly needthem, and was disappointed to have no chance to display them. But ofcourse, when the Sylvesters and Ann Maria came, all would be different;but they would surely be wasted on the two old ladies she had seen, andon the old men who had lounged about the porch; there surely was not agentleman among them.
Agamemnon assured her she could not tell at the seaside, as gentlemenwore their exercise dress, and took a pride in going around in shockinghats and flannel suits. Doubtless they would be dressed for dinner ontheir return.
On their arrival they had been shown to a room to have their meals bythemselves, and could not decide whether they were eating dinner orlunch. There was a variety of meat, vegetables, and pie, that might comeunder either name; but Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin were well pleased.
"I had no idea we should have really farm-fare," Mrs. Peterkin said. "Ihave not drunk such a tumbler of milk since I was young."
Elizabeth Eliza concluded they ought not to judge from a first meal, asevidently their arrival had not been fully prepared for, in spite of thenumerous letters that had been exchanged.
The little boys were, however, perfectly satisfied from the moment oftheir arrival, and one of them had stayed at the farm, declining to goto the beach, as he wished to admire the pigs, cows, and horses; and allthe way over to the beach the other little boys were hopping in and outof the wagon, which never went too fast, to pick long mullein-stalks,for whips to urge on the reluctant horse with, or to gatherhuckleberries, with which they were rejoiced to find the fields werefilled, although, as yet, the berries were very green.
They wanted to stay longer on the beach, when they finally reached it;but Mrs.
Peterkin and Elizabeth Eliza insisted upon turning directly back, as itwas not fair to be late to dinner the very first night.
On the whole the party came back cheerful, yet hungry. They found thesame old men, in the same costume, standing against the porch.
"A little seedy, I should say," said Solomon John.
"Smoking pipes," said Agamemnon; "I believe that is the latest style."
"The smell of their tobacco is not very agreeable," Mrs. Peterkin wasforced to say.
There seemed the same uncertainty on their arrival as to where they wereto be put, and as to their meals.
Elizabeth Eliza tried to get into conversation with the old ladies, whowere wandering in and out of a small sitting-room. But one of them wasvery deaf, and the other seemed to be a foreigner. She discovered froma moderately tidy maid, by the name of Martha, who seemed a sort offactotum, that there were other ladies in their rooms, too much ofinvalids to appear.
"Regular bed-ridden," Martha had described them, which Elizabeth Elizadid not consider respectful.
Mr. Peterkin appeared coming down the slope of the hill behind thehouse, very cheerful. He had made the tour of the farm, and found it inadmirable order.
Elizabeth Eliza felt it time to ask Martha about the next meal, andventured to call it supper, as a sort of compromise between dinner andtea. If dinner were expected she might offend by taking it for grantedthat it was to be "tea," and if they were unused to a late dinner theymight be disturbed if they had only provided a "tea."
So she asked what was the usual hour for supper, and was surprised whenMartha replied, "The lady must say," nodding to Mrs. Peterkin. "She canhave it just when she wants, and just what she wants!"
This was an unexpected courtesy.
Elizabeth Eliza asked when the others had their supper.
"Oh, they took it a long time ago," Martha answered. "If the lady willgo out into the kitchen she can tell what she wants."
"Bring us in what you have," said Mr. Peterkin, himself quite hungry."If you could cook us a fresh slice of beefsteak that would be well."
"Perhaps some eggs," murmured Mrs. Peterkin.
"Scrambled," cried one of the little boys.
"Fried potatoes would not be bad," suggested Agamemnon.
"Couldn't we have some onions?" asked the little boy who had stayedat home, and had noticed the odor of onions when the others had theirsupper.
"A pie
would come in well," said Solomon John.
"And some stewed cherries," said the other little boy.
Martha fell to laying the table, and the family was much pleased, when,in the course of time, all the dishes they had recommended appeared.Their appetites were admirable, and they pronounced the food the same.
"This is true Arab hospitality," said Mr. Peterkin, as he cut his juicybeefsteak.
"I know it," said Elizabeth Eliza, whose spirits began to rise. "We havenot even seen the host and hostess."
She would, indeed, have been glad to find some one to tell her when theSylvesters were expected, and why they had not arrived. Her room was inthe wing, far from that of Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin, and near the aged deafand foreign ladies, and she was kept awake for some time by perplexedthoughts.
She was sure the lady from Philadelphia, under such circumstances, wouldhave written to somebody. But ought she to write to Ann Maria or theSylvesters? And, if she did write, which had she better write to? Shefully determined to write, the first thing in the morning, to bothparties. But how should she address her letters? Would there be any usein sending to the Sylvesters' usual address, which she knew well by thistime, merely to say they had not come? Of course the Sylvesters wouldknow they had not come. It would be the same with Ann Maria.
She might, indeed, inclose her letters to their several postmasters.Postmasters were always so obliging, and always knew where people weregoing to, and where to send their letters. She might, at least, writetwo letters, to say that they--the Peterkins--had arrived, and weredisappointed not to find the Sylvesters. And she could add that theirtrunks had not arrived, and perhaps their friends might look out forthem on their way. It really seemed a good plan to write. Yetanother question came up, as to how she would get her letters to thepost-office, as she had already learned it was at quite a distance, andin a different direction from the station, where they were to send thenext day for their trunks.
She went over and over these same questions, kept awake by the coughingand talking of her neighbors, the other side of the thin partition.
She was scarcely sorry to be aroused from her uncomfortable sleep by themorning sounds of guinea-hens, peacocks, and every other kind of fowl.
Mrs. Peterkin expressed her satisfaction at the early breakfast, anddeclared she was delighted with such genuine farm sounds.
They passed the day much as the afternoon before, reaching the beachonly in time to turn round to come back for their dinner, which wasappointed at noon.
Mrs. Peterkin was quite satisfied. "Such a straight road, and the beachsuch a safe place to turn round upon!"
Elizabeth Eliza was not so well pleased. A wagon had been sent to thestation for their trunks, which could not be found; they were probablyleft at the Boston station, or, Mr. Atwood suggested, might have beenswitched off upon one of the White Mountain trains. There was no use towrite any letters, as there was no way to send them. Elizabeth Eliza nowalmost hoped the Sylvesters would not come, for what should she do ifthe trunks did not come and all her new dresses? On her way over to thebeach she had been thinking what she should do with her new foulard andcream-colored surah if the Sylvesters did not come, and if their timewas spent in only driving to the beach and back. But now, she wouldprefer that the Sylvesters would not come till the dresses and thetrunks did. All she could find out, from inquiry, on returning,was, "that another lot was expected on Saturday." The next day shesuggested:--"Suppose we take our dinner with us to the beach, and spendthe day." The Sylvesters and Ann Maria then would find them on thebeach, where her travelling-dress would be quite appropriate. "I am alittle tired," she added, "of going back and forward over the same road;but when the rest come we can vary it."
The plan was agreed to, but Mr. Peterkin and the little boys remained togo over the farm again.
They had an excellent picnic on the beach, under the shadow of a ledgeof sand.
They were just putting up their things when they saw a party of peopleapproaching from the other end of the beach.
"I am glad to see some pleasant-looking people at last," said ElizabethEliza, and they all turned to walk toward them.
As the other party drew near she recognized Ann Maria Bromwick! And withher were the Sylvesters,--so they proved to be, for she had never seenthem before.
"What! you have come in our absence!" exclaimed Elizabeth Eliza.
"And we have been wondering what had become of you!" cried Ann Maria.
"I thought you would be at the farm before us," said Elizabeth Eliza toMr.
Sylvester, to whom she was introduced.
"We have been looking for you at the farm," he was saying to her.
"But we are at the farm," said Elizabeth Eliza.
"And so are we!" said Ann Maria.
"We have been there two days," said Mrs. Peterkin.
"And so have we, at the 'Old Farm,' just at the end of the beach," saidAnn Maria.
"Our farm is old enough," said Solomon John.
"Whereabouts are you?" asked Mr. Sylvester.
Elizabeth Eliza pointed to the road they had come.
A smile came over Mr. Sylvester's face; he knew the country well.
"You mean the farm-house behind the hill, at the end of the road?" heasked.
The Peterkins all nodded affirmatively.
Ann Maria could not restrain herself, as broad smiles came over thefaces of all the party.
"Why, that is the Poor-house!" she exclaimed.
"The town farm," Mr. Sylvester explained, deprecatingly.
The Peterkins were silent for a while. The Sylvesters tried not tolaugh.
"There certainly were some disagreeable old men and women there!" saidElizabeth Eliza, at last.
"But we have surely been made very comfortable," Mrs. Peterkin declared.
"A very simple mistake," said Mr. Sylvester, continuing his amusement."Your trunks arrived all right at the 'Old Farm,' two days ago."
"Let us go back directly," said Elizabeth Eliza.
"As directly as our horse will allow," said Agamemnon.
Mr. Sylvester helped them into the wagon. "Your rooms are awaiting you,"he said. "Why not come with us?"
"We want to find Mr. Peterkin before we do anything else," said Mrs.Peterkin.
They rode back in silence, till Elizabeth Eliza said, "Do you supposethey took us for paupers?"
"We have not seen any 'they,'" said Solomon John, "except Mr. Atwood."
At the entrance of the farm-yard Mr. Peterkin met them.
"I have been looking for you," he said. "I have just made a discovery."
"We have made it, too," said Elizabeth Eliza; "we are in thepoor-house."
"How did you find it out?" Mrs. Peterkin asked of Mr. Peterkin.
"Mr. Atwood came to me, puzzled with a telegram that had been brought tohim from the station, which he ought to have got two days ago. It camefrom a Mr. Peters, whom they were expecting here this week, with hiswife and boys, to take charge of the establishment. He telegraphed tosay he cannot come till Friday. Now, Mr. Atwood had supposed we were thePeterses, whom he had sent for the day we arrived, not having receivedthis telegram."
"Oh, I see, I see!" said Mrs. Peterkin; "and we did get into a muddle atthe station!"
Mr. Atwood met them at the porch. "I beg pardon," he said. "I hope youhave found it comfortable here, and shall be glad to have you stay tillMr. Peters' family comes."
At this moment wheels were heard. Mr. Sylvester had arrived, with anopen wagon, to take the Peterkins to the "Old Farm."
Martha was waiting within the door, and said to Elizabeth Eliza, "Begpardon, miss, for thinking you was one of the inmates, and putting youin that room. We thought it so kind of Mrs. Peters to take you off everyday with the other gentlemen, that looked so wandering."
Elizabeth Eliza did not know whether to laugh or to cry.
Mr. Peterkin and the little boys decided to stay at the farm tillFriday. But Agamemnon and Solomon John preferred to leave with Mr.Sylvester, and t
o take their electrical machine and camera when theycame for Mr. Peterkin.
Mrs. Peterkin was tempted to stay another night, to be wakened once moreby the guinea-hens. But Elizabeth Eliza bore her off. There was not muchpacking to be done. She shouted good-by into the ears of the deaf oldlady, and waved her hand to the foreign one, and glad to bid farewell tothe old men with their pipes, leaning against the porch.
"This time," she said, "it is not our trunks that were lost"
"But we, as a family," said Mrs. Peterkin.
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