The Little Colonel in Arizona

by Annie F. Johnston

  CHAPTER VII.

  A SURPRISE

  IN order to understand the excitement that prevailed at the Wigwam whenit was announced that the Little Colonel was on her way toward it, onewould first have to understand what an important part she had played inthe Ware household. To begin with, the place where she lived had alwaysseemed a sort of enchanted land to the children. "The Old Kentucky Home"was their earliest cradle-song, and their favourite nursery-tales wereabout the people and places of Lloydsboro Valley, where their mother'shappy girlhood had been passed.

  They might grow tired of Red Riding Hood and Cinderella. Aladdin andeven Ali Baba and the forty thieves might lose their charm, but no storyfailed to interest them that began "Once upon a time in LloydsboroValley." These reminiscences had passed from Joyce to Jack, and on downthe line, with the high chair and the Cock Robin book and the redbuilding-blocks, belonging to each in turn, but claimed by all. Mary'stears, Holland's tempers, and Norman's tantrums had many a timedisappeared as if by magic, at those familiar words.

  After Joyce's return from the house-party at Locust, the Little Colonelbecame the central figure of interest, and all the glamour with whichtheir childish imaginations had surrounded the place, now gatheredaround her like a nimbus around a saint. To Mary, who had read the"Princess Winsome" until she knew it all by heart, Lloyd was somethingbetween an ideal princess, who played on a golden harp, and an ideallittle schoolgirl, who lived in a real palace, and did exactly as shepleased. She could talk of nothing else, after the letter came, andfollowed Joyce and her mother with innumerable questions, pausing oftenbefore the pictures of Lloyd and Tarbaby.

  The boys' interest in her coming was increased when they found that shewas going to bring a rifle, and that her father had promised to hire ahorse for her as soon as they arrived.

  Phil, who came so often to the Wigwam now that he seemed almost one ofthe family, caught so much of its enthusiasm over the coming guest,that he planned picnics and excursions for every day of her visit. Heeven had a voice in what he called the Council of War, in which it wasdecided to let the two older boys move their cots out-of-doors. Hollandhad been clamouring to sleep outside the tent ever since George Lee toldhim that he had begun to do so, and that was what made the cowboys sostrong.

  So the gaily decorated tent, with its "figures mystical and awful," wasmade ready for Lloyd, and Norman took Joyce's place in his mother'stent.

  "She'll know that she's really out West when she once sets her eyes onthose gods of the Dacotahs," Holland said to Mary on their way to schoolone morning. "As long as we call this the Wigwam, I think we ought to bedressed up in war-paint and feathers when she gets here. I'll do it,Mary, if you will. I'll dare you to. I'll double dare you!"

  Usually a double dare never failed to have the desired effect upon Mary.She would attempt anything he suggested. But it was too serious a matterto risk the first impression that such an appearance would make uponLloyd, so she trudged on with a resolute shake of her little blondbraids and big blue bows.

  "No, sir-ree, Holland Ware. I'm going to stay home from school that day,and wear my very best white dress and my rosebud sash. It's just as goodas new if it is two years old, and the little spots on it where Isquirted orange-juice don't show at all when it's tied. And Joyce saidthat she is going to put your hands to soak overnight, to see if shecan't get them clean for once, for if there's anything the LittleColonel abominates, it's dirty hands and finger-nails. And you've got towear a necktie every day, and go into Phoenix and have your hair cut. Sothere!"

  "Oh, I have, have I?" repeated Holland, mimicking her tone. "If Joycehas all those plans in her head, she can just get them out again. I'mnot going to be a dude for any old girl in the country, I don't care ifit is Lloyd Sherman. And if she is so dreadful particular as all that,I'll do something to shock her every day, till she gets used to it. Yes,I believe I'll come to the table the very first meal in a blanket, withfeathers in my hair, and if you dare tell anybody beforehand,I'll--I'll--well, I'll get even with you in a way you won't like."

  "Oh, Holland, please don't! _Please_ don't disgrace us," begged Mary,who always took his threats in earnest. "It would be too dreadful. I'llgive you something nice if you'll promise not to."

  "What will you give me?"

  "What have I got that you want?"

  "Oh, I don't know. I'll have to think about it."

  Holland had no intention of carrying out his threats, but he kept Maryin a fever of anxiety all week, saying one hour that he'd think abouther offer, and the next that she didn't have anything he cared for, andthat he preferred the fun of tormenting the girls to anything she couldgive.

  Joyce drew a star on the kitchen calendar, over the date on which theyexpected Lloyd to arrive; a big five-pointed red star. She rejoiced thatit fell on a Wednesday, for by that time the washing and ironing wouldbe out of the way. Her first experience in laundry-work made her lookahead to the coming Mondays as weekly bugbears. But the second was notso hard as the first. True to his promise, Jack did all the rubbing andwringing, getting up at daybreak to start the fire under the bigwash-boiler out in the yard.

  This morning, as he touched a match to the little pile of kindling, andfanned the blaze with his hat, the new pony, grazing in the alfalfafield, came up to the pasture-bars with a whinny, and put his head overthe fence, as if to watch him.

  "Oh, you think you'll boss this job, do you, Mr. Washington?" said Jack,who, in the short time he had had the pony, had grown as fond of him asif he were a person, and who talked to him as if he had humanintelligence. "Well, you ought to take an interest in the washing, sincethat's the way you got your name, and the reason you are here. Wait tillI get this boiler filled, and I'll bring you a lump of sugar."

  Washington was a wiry little pony. He had a wicked light in his eyes,and was too free with his heels at times, but he had been raised as ahousehold pet, and stood like a kitten while Jack rubbed his nose andfed him sugar.

  "Take it easy while you can," said Jack. "If I have to work like a dogall morning on your account, to earn half the dollars that you cost us,I'll put you through your paces this afternoon to make up for it. You'llthink that you are the Wild Mazeppa by the time we get back. Oh, you'resuch a nice old fellow!"

  Nobody was near to see the impulsive way in which the boy threw his armsaround the pony's neck and hugged him tight. The feeling of possessionmade him happy as a king, as he sat on the topmost bar braidingWashington's shaggy forelock, while the sun came up over the Camelback,and the morning chorus of bird-calls swelled louder and sweeter over theawakening world.

  The fire under the boiler was crackling merrily, and the water wassteaming, when Joyce came out of her tent and started toward thekitchen. She stopped a moment by the pasture-bars to reach through andgive the pony a friendly stroke, for she was almost as proud and fond ofhim as Jack. She had had several delightful rides on him; once with Jackfor company, on Phil's new horse, and twice with Phil, when they hadraced for miles down the sandy road, past olive orchards and orangegroves, sweet with the coming of spring.

  "I'm going to clip his mane to-morrow," said Jack, as he slipped downfrom his seat, and followed Joyce toward the kitchen. "He must look hisbest when Lloyd comes."

  "We've done everything to that tune for a week," laughed Joyce. "'WhenLloyd comes' has grown to be a sort of refrain, running through all ourconversation. You notice now, at breakfast, and see how often it will beused."

  Holland was the first to repeat the well-worn phrase, as he took hisseat at the table, and waited hungrily for his plate to be served.

  "When Lloyd comes you'll have some of those good little corn muffins forbreakfast, won't you, Joyce? Kentucky people aren't used to cold bread."

  Joyce smiled at Jack as the words they were waiting for were repeated,and then almost mechanically used them herself in her answer. "We'llhave them once in awhile, I suppose, but we can't afford a very greatchange in our bill of fare. We'll have a mighty skimpy dinner to-day,for there's not much le
ft over from Sunday, and we'll be too busywashing to stop to cook. But I want to have a big baking before Lloydcomes. If I go in to meet her Wednesday, in the ranch surrey, I'll haveto do the extra cooking to-morrow afternoon, I suppose, after theironing is out of the way."

  Mary cast an inquiring glance at the red star on the calendar.

  "Only to-day and to-morrow, then I can stay home the day after that whenLloyd comes, and wear my best white dress and my rosebud sash."

  "Oh, that will be joyful," chanted Holland, imitating her tone.

  "I wish that I were able to help you more with the work," said Mrs.Ware, wistfully. "Then you would have more time for preparation. Normanand I can manage the tent work, I think, this morning. Then I'll go downto the seat under the willows, and finish that Indian head sofa pillow.We must have that done before Lloyd comes."

  "Seems to me that I can hardly wait," said Mary, giving an impatientlittle wiggle that nearly upset her glass of milk.

  "I wish Betty were coming, too," said Joyce. "She would be making upstories from morning till night about the strange things out here; butshe wouldn't have much peace. You children would never let her out ofyour sight."

  "Like Davy did at the cuckoo's nest," said Mary, who knew Betty'shistory almost as well as her own, and loved dearly to talk about it.Betty's devotion to her godmother since she had gone to live at Locust,and her wonderful gift for writing verses and stories made her almost asinteresting to Mary as the Little Colonel herself. As she moved aboutthe house after breakfast, doing the little duties that fell to her lotbefore school-time, she chanted in a happy undertone all the play of the"Rescue of the Princess Winsome," from beginning to end.

  Sir Feal, the faithful knight, had been associated in her mind withPhil, since the day he rescued her from her fright when she was runningaway from the Indian. She was the princess, and Phil the gallant knight,who, she dreamed in her romantic little heart, might some day send hermessages by the morning-glories and forget-me-nots, as Sir Feal haddone. Of course, not now, but some day when she was grown, and worelong, lovely dresses, and had a beautiful voice. She had picturedherself many a time, standing by a casement window with a dove claspedto her breast, and singing the song, "Flutter, and fly, flutter, andfly, bear him my heart of gold."

  But now that the real princess was coming, she lost interest in her ownlittle day-dreams, which were of such a far-away time and so vague andshadowy, and began dreaming them for Lloyd. She wondered what Phil wouldthink of her when they first met. She had already recited the entireplay to him, and showed him the miniature, and, as he studied the sweetface at the casement, bending over the dove, he had hummed after Mary inan absent-minded sort of way:

  "Spin, spin, oh, golden thread, He dreams of me night and day. The poppy's chalice is sweet and red, Oh, Love will find a way."

  She was still humming it this morning when she came out of the backdoor, ready to start to school, and her thoughts were full of the play.

  "Joyce," she remarked, critically, pausing to watch her sister put morewood on the camp-fire and poke the clothes in the boiler with the end ofan old broom-handle, "you look like the witch in the play:

  "'On the fire I'll pile my faggots higher and higher, And in the bubbling water stir This hank of hair, this patch of fur. Bubble and boil, and snake-skin coil! This charm shall all plans but the Ogre's foil.'"

  Joyce laughed, and Mary, slipping through the bars, followed Hollandacross lots to school. "I do feel like a witch in this old dress andsunbonnet," she said, "and I must look like one. But no one ever comeshere in the mornings but Phil, and he has had his orders to stay away onMondays."

  "What is the use of worrying about how you look?" asked Jack. "Nobodyexpects a fellow to play Chinese laundryman with a high collar and kidgloves on."

  Sousing the tubful of clothes into the rinse-water, Joyce went onvigorously with her morning's work. She and Jack relapsed into busysilence as the morning wore on, and when the clock struck eleven,neither had spoken for nearly an hour.

  Suddenly a sound of wheels, coming rapidly along the road, and a child'shigh-pitched voice made them both stop and look up to listen. "Aren't wegetting back-woodsy!" Joyce exclaimed, as Jack shook the suds from hisarms, and ran to the corner of the kitchen to watch a buggy drive past."So few people come out this desert road, that it is really an event tosee any one. I suppose we ought not to be blamed for staring."

  "It is Hazel Lee," said Jack. "I'm sure that's her voice. There must besome new boarders at the ranch, for there's a strange gentleman and agirl in the buggy with her, and she's standing up in front pointing outthe country to them."

  Joyce came and looked over his shoulder. "Yes, that's Hazel," she said."She's the knowingest little thing I ever saw for a child of five. Youcouldn't lose her anywhere around this region, and she is as good as aguide-book, for giving information. Mr. Ellestad was laughing the otherday about her disputing with the White Bachelor over the market price ofchickens. She was in the right, too, and proved it. She hearseverything, and never forgets anything she hears."

  "'I THOUGHT WE'D NEVAH, NEVAH GET HEAH!'"]

  "She's saying something now to amuse those people mightily," said Jack,as a hearty laugh rang out above the rattle of wheels. Joyce transferredher gaze from the chubby, bareheaded child, leaning over the dashboardwith eager gestures, to the two strangers behind her. Then she graspedJack's elbow with a little cry of astonishment. "It's Lloyd!" shegasped. "Lloyd Sherman and her father, two days ahead of time. Whatshall we do? Everything is in a mess, and nothing in the house fordinner!"

  That instant Hazel's bright eyes spied them, her plump little fingerpointed them out, and Joyce had no more time to consider appearances;for, springing over the wheel, Lloyd came running toward her, calling inthe soft Southern accent that was the sweetest music to Joyce's ears,"Oh, you deah, darling old thing! What made you move away out to theedge of nowhere? I thought we'd nevah, nevah get heah!"

  In the delight of seeing her again, Joyce forgot all about things beingtopsyturvy, and how little there was in the house for dinner. She evenforgot to introduce Jack, who stood awkwardly waiting in the background,till Mr. Sherman, amused at the girls' absorption in each other,stepped out of the buggy and came forward, laughing.

  "It looks as if the two Jacks will have to introduce themselves," hesaid, holding out his hand. Jack's awkwardness vanished instantly atthis hearty greeting, and a moment later he was shaking hands with Lloydas easily as Joyce was welcoming Lloyd's father, wholly indifferent tohis outgrown overalls and rolled-up shirt-sleeves.

  In the meantime, Hazel, who was a major-general in her small way forcomprehending situations, had, of her own accord, raced off to find Mrs.Ware and bring her to welcome the unexpected guests.

  "And you are Aunt Emily!" exclaimed Lloyd, turning with outstretchedhands as the sweet-faced little woman came toward them. "Mothah said youwouldn't mind if I called you that, because you and she have always beensuch deah friends."

  There were tears in Mrs. Ware's eyes as she returned the impulsive kiss.She had expected to be fond of Elizabeth's only daughter. She had hopedto find her pretty and sweet, but she had not looked for thiswinsomeness, which had been the Little Colonel's greatest charm sincebabyhood. With that greeting, Lloyd walked straight into her heart.

  The surprise ended more satisfactorily than most surprises do, for,while Jack was unhitching the horse, and Mrs. Ware was talking over oldtimes with Mr. Sherman, whom she had known in her school-days, some onewent whizzing around the house on a bicycle.

  "It's Jo, the Japanese chef from the ranch," said Joyce, springing upfrom the front door-step where she sat with Lloyd, and starting back tothe kitchen to ask his errand.

  "Oh, let me go, too," cried Lloyd, following. "I nevah saw a Jap closeenough to speak to."

  Lloyd could not understand the pigeon-English with which he delivered abasket he had brought, but it was evidently a funny proceeding to Jo. Hehanded it over
as if it had been a joke, doubling up like a jack-knifeas he pointed to the contents, and laughing so contagiously that Joyceand Lloyd could not help laughing, too.

  "He not velly nice pie, maybe," giggled Jo. "But you eat him allee same.Mis' Lee say you not lookee for comp'nee. You not have nuzzing cook."

  "Did Mrs. Lee tell you to bring the basket, Jo?" asked Joyce.

  He shook his head. "Mis' Lee say take soup," pointing to the largeglass jar of clearest consomme, smoking hot, which Joyce had just liftedfrom the basket. "I, _me_, bling along the pie, for my compli_ment_. Sheno care. She kind, Clistian lady."

  "She certainly is," laughed Joyce. "Now we can at least begin and endour dinner in style. That's a _lovely_ pie, Jo; the prettiest I eversaw."

  The little almond eyes twinkled, as he watched her hold up the daintypastry with its snowy meringue for Lloyd to admire.

  "Aw, he not velly good pie," protested Jo, with a self-conscious smirk,knowing in his soul that it was the perfection of pastry, and eager tohear Joyce say so again. "I make-a heap much betta nex-a time."

  Then, with another laugh, he whizzed away on his wheel, pausing underthe pepper-trees to catch up Hazel, and take her home on hishandle-bars.

  "Joyce," asked Lloyd, as she watched him disappear down the road, "didyou uncawk a bottle, or rub Aladdin's lamp? I feel as if I had walkedinto the Arabian nights, to have a foreign-looking, almond-eyed chefsuddenly appear out of the desert with consomme and pie, like a genieout of a bottle."

  "It doesn't happen every day," laughed Joyce. "I suppose that after youstopped at the ranch to inquire the way here, and picked up Hazel for aguide, that it occurred to Mrs. Lee that we were not looking for youuntil Wednesday, and that, as this is our wash-day, maybe we wouldn'thave a very elaborate dinner prepared, and she thought she would help usout in a neighbourly way. Jo enjoyed coming. When we were at the ranch,he was always making delicious little extra dishes for mamma."

  "Oh, I hope our coming soonah than you expected hasn't made adifference!" exclaimed Lloyd. "I nevah thought about yoah doing yoah ownwork. Mr. Robeson decided not to stop in New Mexico as long as he hadplanned, and, when I found that would put us heah two days soonah, Iwouldn't let Papa Jack telegraph. I'm so sorry."

  "Don't say another word about it," interrupted Joyce. "The onlydifference it makes is to you and your father. You've not been receivedin quite such good style as if we'd been dressed in our best bibs andtuckers, but maybe you'll feel more at home, dropping right down in themiddle of things this way."

  Lloyd felt as if she certainly had dropped down in the middle of things,into a most intimate knowledge of the Ware family's affairs. For, asJoyce circled around, setting the table, she saw that a pitcher of milk,bread and butter, and some cold boiled potatoes, sliced ready to fry,was all that the pantry held for dinner. If Joyce had spoken one word ofapology, Lloyd would have felt exceedingly uncomfortable, but she onlylaughed as she put the consomme on the stove to keep hot, and set outthe pie-plates on the sideboard.

  "Lucky for you," she said, "that the genie came out of his bottle. Wewere spending all our energy in rushing through the laundry work, sothat we could make grand preparations for to-morrow, but we couldn'thave equalled Jo, no matter how hard we tried."

  While Joyce, talking as fast as she worked, fried the potatoes andsliced the bread, Jack wrung out the last basketful of clothes and hungthem on the line, and then disappeared in his mother's tent to makehimself presentable for dinner. Lloyd had already had a peep into thetent that she was to share with Joyce, and had called her father to comeand have a laugh with her over the green-eyed gods of the Dacotahs whichwere to guard her slumbers during her visit to the Wigwam. He was toleave that same night, and go on to the mines with Mr. Robeson and hisparty.

  Her trunk was brought out from town soon after dinner, and, while shepartly unpacked it, putting the things she would need oftenest into thebureau drawers that Joyce had emptied for her, Jack and Mr. Shermandrove away to look at the horses one of the neighbours kept to hire totourists. They came back later with a shaggy Indian pony, which Lloyd atonce mounted for a trial ride.

  Joyce went with her on Washington as far as the White Bachelor's. Lloydwas not accustomed to a cross saddle, or to guiding a horse by thepressure of the bridle-reins against its neck, so they rode slowly atfirst. When they were almost opposite the camp at Lee's ranch, Joyce sawa familiar little figure trudging along the road, and wished withsisterly solicitude that they could avert a meeting. It was Mary on herway home from school, dusty and dishevelled, as usual at such times, onehair-ribbon lost, and the braid it had bound hanging loose and limp overher ear. Joyce was not near enough to see, but she felt sure that hershoe-laces were dangling, that there was ink on her hands and maybe herface, and that at least one button, if not more, had burst loose fromthe back of her dress. She knew that the child would be overwhelmedwith mortification if she should come face to face with the PrincessWinsome in such a condition, when she had set her heart upon appearingbefore her in her white dress and rosebud sash.

  Before Joyce could think of an excuse to turn back, Mary had settled thematter for herself. Hazel had stopped her at the gate to tell her of theunexpected arrival, so she was not wholly unprepared for this suddenmeeting. Darting up the high bank of the irrigating ditch like a littlegray lizard, she slid down on the other side into its dry bed andcrouched there till they passed. There had been no water running forseveral days, but it would have made no difference to Mary. She wouldhave plunged in just the same, even if it had been neck deep. She simplycould not let the adored Little Colonel see her in such a plight.

  Joyce almost laughed aloud at the frantic haste in which she scuttledout of sight, but seeing that Lloyd had been too absorbed in guiding herpony to notice it, she said nothing, and delayed their return until shewas sure that Mary was safe in her tent. So it was that when Lloyd wentback to the Wigwam one member of the Ware family was arrayed in all herglory according to the original programme. Mary stood out under thepepper-trees, washed, combed, and clad, painfully conscious of herfestive garments, which had had so few occasions to be donned on thedesert, and in a quiver of eagerness. It was not only Lloyd Sherman whowas coming toward her up the road. It was the Little Colonel, the Queenof Hearts, the Princess Winsome, the heroine of a hundred familiartales, and the beautiful Dream-Maiden around whom she had woven all sheknew or imagined of romance.