Six Girls and Bob: A Story of Patty-Pans and Green Fields

by Marion Ames Taggart

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE BITTENBENDER TRUNK

  MISS BRADBURY kept talking of returning to town, but still she lingeredin the Ark. Mrs. Scollard was not well enough to resume her positionin the city, and stayed on with her family at Crestville, her recoveryretarded by her anxiety as to the next move, and by her unwillingnessto continue to accept the kindness which Miss Bradbury truthfullyassured her was for her hostess an economy over city expenditures. Forthough this were true, Miss Bradbury could not continue to carry anentire family on her shoulders, however broad they were, or howeverlight their burden. In the meantime nothing changed in the arrangementsat the Ark through the golden days of October, and, as if they hadwaited for Gretta to be safely harbored in her ark of refuge, thestorms of winter set in prematurely in November, and with remarkablevigor.

  The old house must have wondered at the way its new inmates set upstoves in every room where there was a chimney, and then drove them totheir utmost. It had been accustomed only to a fire in the kitchen andin "the room." Gretta and Rosie seemed to have difficulty in adjustingtheir minds to this excess in the use of coal.

  In the middle of November the first snow-storm of the year arriveduntimely. It drifted to the height of a man's knee, and the thermometerdropped down past the naught on its register, down four more degrees.Of course such weather could not last, so early in the season; it wasfollowed by a swift ascent of the thermometer, and the snow meltedaway faster than it had come. But while it lasted, it was an excellentimitation of winter, and not a little dismaying to novices in the artof living in the country.

  The storm began on Friday; Don Dolor came up from the post-office withhis back white with snow, and his long mane and tail balled with it.On Saturday the drifting snow lay over the Ark and its grounds andout-buildings like a beautiful blanket, and it was still falling. Therewas no denying that it was beautiful, but there was no denying eitherthat it made the present world seem very solitary, and the outsideworld very distant and inaccessible.

  The silence seemed like something tangible; as if one might take itby its corners and lift it up--only there was not precisely the rightperson to lift it. The licking of the little tongues of flame on thehearth fell curiously on Mrs. Scollard's ears, as if they should havebeen louder, but were muffled. The children's voices came down to herfrom above stairs loud and cheerful, but unreal, and through and abovetheir ringing, she seemed to hear the silence of the snow-envelopedcountry.

  Happie wandered restlessly into the room and threw herself into a chairwith a movement most unlike her cheery, quick self.

  "I feel suffocated, motherums," she said. "It's so still, so _benumbed_still, that I can hear the distant planets roll--hear them better thanthis one, for that matter; this one seems to be motionless."

  "Make your own sounds, Happie," suggested her mother, not admitting tosharing her feeling. "Sing and shout; get the others to help you. Whatyou have just said has a note of loneliness."

  "I'm not so much lonely as lost, queer, restless," returned Happie."And as to making sounds for ourselves, it's of no use. We've beentrying it, but the more we sing, and laugh, and chatter, the more wehear the stillness of the earth. Gretta doesn't mind, because she'sused to it, but Margery and I, and Laura, and even Polly a wee bit, areready to fly into inch pieces."

  "I prefer you whole," said her mother. "We shall have to devisesomething pleasant to do. You don't make fudge as often as you used tomake it in town; would fudge be a solution?"

  Happie shook her head with unmistakable emphasis. "I shouldn't like asolution of fudge, motherums," she said. "And it wouldn't be a solutionof our troubles. Especially that there isn't any trouble," addedHappie, rallying in an attempt at her usual cheerfulness. "I'll go backto the others and see if we can't think up something so interestingthat we can drown out that no-sounding loud silence."

  "Reading aloud?" suggested Mrs. Scollard, as Happie rose lazily andturned towards the door.

  Happie turned back. "Now, motherums," she said reproachfully; "on suchday as this we couldn't hear the most interesting story that was everwritten; the silence would drown it. I wonder what can be the matter? Inever noticed such a--such an audible silence, and it isn't like me tobe so good-for-nothing, and restless."

  "It is our first experience of a snow-storm in the country, and Isuspect loneliness is at the bottom of your restlessness, dear Happie,"said her mother. "I hope you'll find a weapon to rout your enemies, thesilence and the loneliness, though you won't own up to the latter, myHappiness." And Mrs. Scollard waved a tiny farewell to her daughter,with more cheerfulness of manner than of heart.

  "We're going to prowl, Hapsie," announced Bob, as Happie came back toher own room, where the clan of Scollard had assembled.

  "To prowl? Where? We haven't any snow-shoes," said Happie.

  "We don't need them in the attic, and that's where we're going toprowl. We thought we would go up there and see how it seems with theroof snow-padded," returned Bob.

  "I imagine it will seem cold," said Happie. "However, I'm ready. Thereseems to be nothing better to do this morning."

  "Penny and I are going down to get mama to read to us," said Polly."Penny'll get cold up there, and we're going to ask mama----"

  "To read 'bout the kitten that went walking all by himself, waving hiswild tail!" cried Penny, interrupting joyfully.

  The two younger children went away, Polly carrying under her arm a veryshabby copy of "The Just So Stories." The four elder ones, with Gretta,climbed the attic stairs, the chill of the snowy air striking sharpupon their faces as they ascended.

  "I wish I had had this place while I was still young enough to playRobber Baron! We never had such a dandy lair as this would have made,did we, Happie?" said Bob looking about him with an interest thatsuggested that he might still have enjoyed childish things if thedignity of sixteen years had not forbidden them.

  "We never had anything that was a patch on this attic," said Happiesympathetically. "The only mystery we could get into our lairs wasimaginary. Do you remember how we used to pretend that the playroom wasso dark we couldn't see to walk in it, Bob?"

  "Yes, and how we used to hold up the yardstick and father's cane fortorches when our men came back from their raids?" added Bob.

  "Of course, and how much we used to wish that we could get Margery tobe the men, but she never would be, and we had to get on with imaginaryfollowers. Though Margery could pretend she was the old witch womanthat stayed in the cave and got the dinner, but Laura couldn't help onebit. She had to stop and argue that a chair was a chair, when we werepretending it was a turret of a castle," said Happie, brightening verymuch under these reminiscences.

  "It was so stupid," said Laura decidedly. "I never could see anythingin playing Robber Baron."

  "Well, we did," sighed Happie. "This certainly would have made aperfectly lovely lair, Bob. It is too bad we didn't get it in time.No city child has an attic, and attics are made for children. In townhouses there is nothing but an upper floor, with one room kept for astoreroom; in Patty-Pans flats there isn't so much as that!"

  "We might turn the attic to another use to-day," said Margery. "Wemight each tell a story about it, and what we think may have happenedin it during all the years that the house has stood. There is thatBittenbender trunk under the eaves; that would be a good subject for astory."

  "Oh, that Bittenbender trunk!" cried Happie, starting into suddenanimation. "I had forgotten all about it. We never have opened it.To-day would be the very day to see what is in it. Here is Gretta,living with us, and she is as near to being a representative of theBittenbenders as Crestville boasts. Let's open it, now, this minute,and solve the mystery, instead of weaving yarns about it. Maybe we'llfind some dark secrets hidden in its depths."

  "Some dark clothes, much moth-eaten, more likely," said Bob. "But I'mwith you for the opening. The late Mr. Bittenbender announces hisearly winter opening--so does Crestville to-day, for that matter! Say
,Gretta, he is 'the late,' isn't he?"

  "What is?" asked Gretta, puzzled into a relapse into the vernacular.

  "The late; he is dead, isn't he?" asked Bob.

  "Oh, yes; of course he is," said Gretta. "He died three or four yearsago somewhere down country where he came from in the first place."

  "Well, from all accounts of him, that seems to be a good thing," saidBob cheerfully. "Wouldn't you like to open that trunk and see whatyour grandfather-in-law--no, your step-grandfather left behind in thatvenerable, partly bald receptacle?"

  "I don't mind; yes, I should like to open it," said Gretta, "but Ithink we ought to speak to Miss Bradbury first."

  "Aunt Keren won't object, but of course you're right; we should have toask her," said Happie. "Bob, suppose you go down and get all the trunkkeys there are in the house, and bring up the hammer and chisel in casenone works, and at the same time ask Aunt Keren's permission to breakand enter?"

  "Neat way of making sure you don't have to go yourself. I see throughyour dark wiles, Miss Keren-happuch," said Bob. "But I don't mind; I'mpublic spirited; ready to be butchered to make a Roman holiday."

  And Bob departed, whistling in a way that declared that for him theloneliness of the morning had been dissipated. He came back bearing aquantity of keys, the hammer and chisel, and Miss Bradbury's permissionto investigate the Bittenbender trunk. He and Gretta dragged it forthfrom its long established retreat under the eaves, into the light ofone of the four gable windows. Here the poor thing looked even shabbierthan in the shadow, and smaller.

  "It seems to be shrinking from the garish light of day," suggestedHappie.

  "You can hardly blame it," said Bob. "It is a melancholy trunk. Inever saw anything else so bald as it is in spots. It ought to have askullcap, or we might throw a buffalo robe over it--it might think itsown hair had grown out again."

  "You're as silly as I am, Bobby," said Happie approvingly, as she triedfirst one, then another of the keys without any result. "I thought itwould open like--like sesame! But it doesn't seem so easy, after all."

  "It looks as if a door-key would be about the right thing," said Bob,kneeling to squint into the lock. "Let me try it. I don't like to forcethe poor old thing; time has been hard enough on it without our beingviolent. I'll try this key, and if everything else fails, I believewire will do the trick, for it is far from a Yale lock." Everythingelse did fail, so Bob twisted a wire and picked the lock, "in a mannerworthy the Robber Baron," Happie said.

  Bob threw back the lid impressively. "Behold the treasures of The Lastof the Bittenbenders!" he cried melodramatically, stepping back a pace.

  The girls crowded around to see what was revealed, Laura shivering withthe combination of cold and excitement.

  "Let Gretta take out the contents," said Happie. "We must do everythingdecently and in order, and we mustn't forget that she is the most inorder of any of us. When it comes to Bittenbender things, she's thefamily representative."

  "I won't be jealous of any one who wants that place," laughed Gretta,kneeling before the trunk nevertheless. "I'm not anxious to be mixed upwith the Bittenbenders; they are not one bit relation to me, I'm proudto say."

  "Never mind genealogy just now, Gretta; show us what's in the trunk. IfHappie says you must, you must--her word is always law somehow," saidBob.

  "Because her words are Happie-thought words," smiled Margery.

  "THE GIRLS CROWDED AROUND TO SEE WHAT WAS REVEALED"]

  Gretta began to deposit on the floor the top layer of the contents ofthe trunk. There was nothing interesting to the eager on-lookers,and everything had a dusty, musty smell, "as if spiders had wrappedthem up in their webs instead of moth balls," Margery suggested. Therewere queer old garments, not valuable when they were new, and far fromnew when they were packed away. There were old account books which nonebut the accountant could have understood; some old newspapers, yellowand stained, and at the bottom more newspapers, but these bore datesseveral years subsequent to the papers on top, or the dates revealed bythe garments.

  "There isn't anything wildly exciting about this," said Bob wearily."And I'm getting chilled to my marrow up here. Queer the newer papersare below; they must have repacked this thing. Why what's the matter,Gretta? What's up?"

  He spoke sharply, and dropped on his knees beside the girl to look overher shoulder. Gretta was sitting back on her heels, holding a long,yellowed envelope in her hand at which she was gazing with all colorfled from her frightened face.

  "'The Last Will and Testament of Anna Bittenbender,'" read Bob, aloud."Good gracious, Gretta, has it been found at last? And right here inthe house? Open it, quick!"

  "I can't," said Gretta, holding out the envelope to Happie as if it hadbeen a dynamite bomb. "You read it, Happie."

  Happie took the envelope eagerly, and drew forth from it a sheetof foolscap, covered with clear writing, very different from theinscription on the envelope.

  "'I, Anna Bittenbender, born Neumann, and subsequently wife to HermanEngel, now the wife of Isaac Bittenbender, being of sound mind----'Why, Gretta, is it--it is actually your grandmother's will!" criedHappie, breaking off short in her reading, greatly excited.

  "No doubt of that!" cried Bob, not less excited, while Margery andLaura mounted the fateful trunk, the better to look over Happie'sshoulder. "Hurry up, Hap! She gives and bequeaths, of course. What doesshe give and bequeath--to whom?"

  "I can't tell, you fluster me so!" gasped Happie. "Here are some smallitems. Here is a hundred dollars to her husband--oh, my! That's onlyto bury her! And here---- Yes, it is! 'I give and bequeath to my sonRufus Engel the house and farm in and on which I now live, consistingof sixty acres of cleared and wooded land, situated on the main roadrunning from Crestville to Sprucetown, in the county of Madison, in thestate of Pennsylvania, together with all the live stock which may be onthe farm, and all the tools, vehicles and furniture in the house andfarm buildings at the time of my death. In the event of the death of myson, the farm with all its appointments, as above named, shall pass tomy son's only child, his daughter Gretchen Elizabeth, for her use andbehoof, and for her heirs after her, without restriction and forever.'"

  Happie ceased reading, and the will fluttered from her hand. She lookedshocked; indeed all the young people gazed on one another blankly,utterly dazed. Gretta began to cry softly, and this brought theScollards to their senses.

  "Then the Ark is yours, Gretta," said Bob. "It is fine! Instead of AuntKeren's sheltering you, you are sheltering all of us. You will let usstay on a while, won't you?"

  "Don't!" cried Gretta, hysterically.

  "Come down to mother. We must tell mother," said Margery. "And we mustfind Aunt Keren. Pray don't cry, Gretta. It is the loveliest thing thatcould have happened to you; you will be perfectly happy when you havegot used to it, and realize that you own a farm. And, though we havealways supposed that Aunt Keren was not at all rich--only comfortablyoff, she didn't seem to dread giving up this place if she had found thewill. Come down-stairs as quick as you can."

  But in spite of her cheerful words, Margery's mind was divided betweenrejoicing for Gretta, and regret for kind Aunt Keren's loss.

  Without a second thought for the contents of the shabby little trunkwhich had so long guarded its secret till this day of dramaticrevelation, the Scollards escorted Gretta down-stairs, Laura's tearsfalling as fast as Gretta's had. Laura had never quite liked acceptingthe country girl on equal terms with themselves, and she had beenbuilding air castles of succeeding summers spent at the Ark, with AuntKeren. Laura was instinctively selfish; it always took much effort toget her up to the point of rejoicing in another's good.

  "Aunt Keren, would you please come into the library where mother is?"said Margery looking in at Miss Bradbury busied with accounts at thedining-room table. "We have something wonderful to tell you."

  Miss Bradbury looked up, with considerable doubt as to the importanceof the communication that she was to hear. A glance at Margery's faceconvinced her that something ser
ious had happened, and she followed theyoung people into the library at once. Mrs. Scollard lifted her faceas the five entered, followed by Miss Bradbury. Polly sat on the armof her mother's chair, Penny was curled within its embrace; it was apretty and peaceful picture which they had come to break up.

  Mrs. Scollard greeted them with her bright welcoming smile, but itfaded instantly, her book fell from her hand, she set Penny on her feetand sprang to her own, crying: "My dears, what has happened?"

  "We opened the trunk, Aunt Keren, mother," said Bob, making himselfspokesman. "It had a lot of trash in it, but it had something elsebesides. We have found Gretta's grandmother's will!"

  "Her will!" cried Mrs. Scollard. And with an instant perception of thetruth, Miss Bradbury added: "And she has left this farm to Gretta; herhusband hid the will!"

  "Well, of course we can't tell about that," said Bob. "But yet it musthave been so. The will was under a lot of old account-books, clothesand stuff belonging to old Bittenbender. It gives this place to Mrs.Bittenbender's son, Rufus Engel, and if he died, to his daughterGretta."

  "Oh, I'm so sorry!" cried Gretta, throwing herself face downward on thecouch. "After you've been so good to me! But maybe it won't matter. Wewon't tell any one we found the old will, and then you can keep theArk!"

  Miss Bradbury laughed. "My dear little girl, would you have me compounda felony?" she asked, going over to stroke Gretta's hair. "Look up, mydear Gretta, and let me see you as glad as you should be! No longer ahomeless girl, dependent on the grudging kindness of distant kindred,but an heiress, as things go in the country; the owner of an excellentfarm. As for me, you know how hard I tried to find this will, and howglad I am to have justice done you. Fancy hiding the will! Why, thisold man your grandmother married was a rare old scamp, and would youhave me as bad as he was? We'll hasten to prove the will, get itthrough probate, and establish our Gretta in her rights just as fast asthe law can move. Don't feel sorry, Gretta, my dear! I am very glad,and can get on perfectly well without the Ark. How much good has itdone me since I took it until this summer? Isn't it a good joke on usall that the will was reposing quietly in our attic all the time thatwe were scouring the country for a trace of it?"

  Gretta sat up flushed and purpling with excitement, her eyes burning,her breath coming short. "I'll never take the Ark, never, unless youdon't want it!" she cried. "And I'll never take it then unless you willpromise to own it with me and stay here all the time, and let me workfor you. I won't touch the will, nor the place, unless you own it justas much as I do."

  "My dear, grateful, generous Gretta," said Miss Bradbury, "did you everhear that Shakespeare said that some people had greatness thrust uponthem? You can't escape your good fortune in this world any more thanyour bad luck. I did not intend staying here all the time, you know,even when I owned the farm. But we'll promise that the Ark shall be ourrefuge when we need one, just as it was your refuge in time of troublewhen I owned it. And who knows what good may be in store for us, aswell as you? Good and bad happenings seem to run in schools, likemackerel, I have noticed."

  "I feel exactly as if I were in a story-book," said Happie. "Hiddenwills and tardy justice done the heroine, who has been poor andoppressed--now isn't it a regular fairy-tale?"

  "It is very interesting," said Laura, so pensively that they alllaughed, even Gretta.

  "It is the very best thing that could have happened," declared Mrs.Scollard heartily, with an eye on Gretta's still clouded face. "It willturn this dreary day into summer sunshine. Come, let us tell Rosie; shewill be delighted too."

  But the dear woman could not quite forget that, though she wasimpatient to remove her children from dependence on Miss Keren, forthe time they had no other home than the Ark. And it was a good home,however forlorn it had appeared at first. This discovery would have adecided, though indirect effect on her family fortunes.