Part 1

_Cottage on the Curve_

_By_ MARY LAMERS

_Sketches by the Author_

The Bruce Publishing Company Milwaukee

(Second Printing--1947)

Copyright, 1945 By Mary Lamers Printed in the U. S. A.

To the memory of my mother BESSIE MURRAY McGUIRE

_Foreword_

This story was written in time of war, in the memory of peace.

Once upon a time there were happy times like these. There were trips and steaks and tennis balls, and even double-decker ice-cream cones.

But the children who played on the shores of Oak Lake have sailed away. In jungle heat they remember her cool depths. In the hot blare of battle they remember the quiet just as the moon rose over the tamarack swamp.

Come back, long-legged little boys! Come back to the summer days we used to know.

M. M. L.

Summer, 1945.

_Contents_

PAGE

Foreword 7

CHAPTER

1. The Last Day of School 11

2. Who Peppered the Cake 26

3. The Purse in the Trash Pile 38

4. The Turtle Who Towed the Boat 51

5. Grandma Always Brought Presents 63

6. Buick the Detective 74

7. A Trip to Deerpath 94

8. The Fourth Was Full of Fun 104

9. Billy Battles the Storm 116

10. Janie Earns a Dollar 136

11. The Front Seat on the Bus 150

12. The Bear Who Loved Apple Pie 168

13. An Honest Reward 183

14. Dad Finds a Treasure 193

15. Good-by Summer 212

_Chapter One_

_The Last Day of School_

Jane Murray walked slowly down the wide corridor. It was the last day of school. Her desk was empty. For the first time since last September her locker stood neat and bare. Gone were the old gym socks, the forgotten rainhat that had been wedged under an old theme cover, the candy bar wrappers, and the umbrella with the split seam.

Patsy and Dor had reached the street ahead of her and were screaming at the top of their lungs.

“Janie, oh, Janie! Hurry! We’re going to have an ice-cream cone.”

Janie shook her head regretfully. “Run along with the others, my funny friends. I must go home and put a fresh dressing on Butchie’s paw.”

They were off like race horses. “Perhaps I should have gone,” she thought. The back of her neck was just a little damp under the light brown curly mop. A cone or a swim. Oh boy! I could do with a swim right now, and with her head full of summer dreams she started off down the maple-shaded street.

Springhill was a lovely old town in southern Wisconsin. The houses were set well back from the street. They were large and old-fashioned, with screened porches. Some of them had turrets running up to the third floor level. Janie had read of a famous architect who disapproved of such decorations. “Inverted rutabagas,” he called them, but Janie didn’t care. The turret on the Murray house was enchanted land. From its circular windows they could see all over town, and down the valley to the river. Once they found a gray squirrel’s nest up there, and on rainy days there was the parallel bar for doing stunts.

“Inverted rutabaga, my eye,” said Janie.

“What’s a rutabaga, Janie,” said a small voice at her elbow. She jumped.

“Oh, Robin, it’s you. I must have been talking to myself. It’s old age creeping on.”

“How old are you, Janie,” the small voice persisted.

“I’m thirteen.” She picked up the afternoon paper with one hand, ruffled Robin’s hair with the other, and ran up her own front steps.

“Mom, oh Mom,” she called as the screen door slammed behind her. “School’s out, and I’m not even happy about it. Oh Mom, may I make some lemonade?”

Mrs. Murray called from upstairs, “Yes dear, make some for the boys while you’re at it, and don’t spill any sugar on the floor.”

The sugar, lemons, and ice cubes were assembled, but before Jane could finish there was an excited chirping, hopping, and rattling on the back porch.

“Oh Butch, you darling monkey! I almost forgot to fix that bandage.” She gathered the little furry fellow up in her arms. He was the adored pet of the youngest of Jane’s brothers, Davey.

Janie could never forget that windy fall night two years ago when they first saw Butch. Daddy had been working on the case of an organ grinder who became involved in difficulties with the immigration authorities. All pleas failed and Mr. Calento made plans to return to his native Italy, but he couldn’t take his monkey with him. Monkeys catch pneumonia easily, and an Atlantic voyage in the stormy month of October would have been dangerous to his health. With tears in his eyes Mr. Calento presented his pet to Daddy as part payment of his fee.

What an uproar that was! Of course the children were enchanted, but Mom was aghast.

“A monkey,” she cried. “My goodness, Jim Murray, are you a lawyer or a zoo-keeper? Supposing your next client owns an elephant?”

Daddy laughed and patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry dear,” he said. “If you don’t want him we’ll take him down to the zoo in the morning.”

“The zoo?” wailed Davey. “Please don’t take him to the zoo.”

Mom was firm. “His place is in the zoo,” she said.

He would have been banished the very next day except that a quarantine had been placed on the zoo because of the illness of some of the larger animals, and no new animals were being admitted. One day led to the next and Butchie stayed on. Mom had to take care of him during the day when the children were at school, and she grew to love him so that by the time the quarantine was lifted the Murrays had a monkey, and that was that.

Jane sat him on the porch sewing table, and ran in to heat the boric solution. He waited patiently, and extended his little paw in perfect trust. “Oh, what a good monkey you can be,” murmured Janie as she fastened the fresh bandage. “You could save yourself a lot of trouble, Butch, by keeping your paws off the screen door when the Murrays come thundering home.”

“Eeek Eeek,” chattered Butch, and his little nurse replied gravely, “You’re welcome.”

Mom came down the stairway just as Janie finished.

“Where’s all the lemonade I’ve been hearing about?” she asked.

“In a minute, Mom. I’ve been fixing Butchie’s paw.”

They sat at the kitchen table and took a long drink of the delicious cold lemonade before either spoke.

“What’s this about your not being happy, my child,” said Mom with a teasing glint in her eye.

Janie put her glass down, and rested her cheek on one hand. “Mom,” she replied, “I know you’re right about us staying home with Daddy this summer. I know he has a big case coming up in court, and that if you wouldn’t be here to take care of him he’d stay up half the night working. He wouldn’t eat the way he’s supposed to, and everything would go wrong. I know all these things, but on a warm day like this I just can’t help wishing we could go to the lake like we always used to.”

“And what would you say, daughter,” said Mom in the same teasing tone of voice. “What would you say if I told you that we could go to the lake this summer just as we always used to?”

Jane’s eyes grew wide, “Oh Mom, tell me when. Can Daddy come too? Tell me Mom. Oh, Mom, how wonderful!”

Mrs. Murray took a deep breath and laughingly pushed her delighted daughter away. “What muscles,” she said.

“Mom, if you’re not serious, I’ll just die! I would so love to go to the lake. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon. Blue skies, clear water, little robins singing.” In her happiness Jane waltzed around the kitchen, and Butch clapped his hands together happily from the back porch.

Mrs. Murray laughed and rose to rinse out her lemonade glass. “I can’t tell you any more about it now,” she continued, “but when your father comes home and the boys are all gathered together, we’ll get the story.”

Janie knew her mother well enough to press her no further. Mom was funny. She had her moods. Sometimes, in the morning when they were all getting ready for school, she would whirl in and out among them dancing to the ballet music of Daddy’s early morning radio program. In her yellow sweater and faded blue denim skirt, with her hair done in short pig-tails, she was very gay, a real pal. But there was nothing gay about the look in her eye if she’d spy a C on your report card.

In the morning when Dad shaved he would sing at the top of his lungs while he chopped away at his whiskers, and any one who came near him was playfully anointed with his well-lathered brush. Daddy could be gay too but all this spring he had been distracted and busy. He often worked late at the office, and then he’d bring papers home and his light would burn far into the night.

Janie remembered the night she couldn’t sleep and went down to the kitchen for a glass of milk. There was a light in the library, and Daddy sat with papers strewn all over, his hair rumpled, and lines on his forehead making Venetian blinds of worry.

“Daddy! It’s almost one o’clock!”

He looked up in surprise. “Oh, hello there, puss. Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I came down for a glass of milk. I stubbed my toe playing soft ball in the gym, and it was hurting me a little. I woke up, and then I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“What were you intending to do with the glass of milk, drink it, or bathe your injured toe?”

“Daddy! What a silly thing to say! Drink it, of course. Shall I pour some for you?”

“Yes, by all means, but don’t make any noise. If your mother hears us we’ll both be spanked for staying up past our bedtime.”

Janie brought two glasses of milk and sat down opposite her father at the desk. “Daddy, I wish you wouldn’t work so hard. Mom worries about you, too. Couldn’t you let that old case go if it’s such a bother?”

“Perhaps I could if I had no one depending on me, but I have a wife and a dear family, and the man that this case concerns has a wife and family that he loves just as much as I love mine. It’s my particular responsibility to finish this job, even if I’d rather not.”

He arose and came around to where she was sitting. “Come, my broken-toed beauty. It’s high time you were asleep.”

“Will you go to bed too?”

“Yes, I’ll go to bed too.”

* * * * *

For the most part, life in the house with the rutabaga top was happy and serene. There were no shadows in the large old-fashioned kitchen where Mom and Janie worked at preparing the evening meal. Crisp washed lettuce was taken from the refrigerator and tossed in a big wooden bowl. Noodle ring, with cheese and ham sauce, fresh string beans, corn-meal muffins, and hidden somewhere and smelling heavenly was a fresh-baked rhubarb pie.

“Yum, pie,” said Jane. “Is it because it’s the last day of school?”

“Yes,” said her mother, “a special celebration.”

“Did you say pie?” asked ten year old James, suddenly appearing at the back door. Mom and Jane laughed for an answer, for there never was a boy with an appetite like James. He was tall and slim and inclined to be awkward. His clothes hung loosely on him. His hair, almost curly, was completely unmanageable. He had a quick, hot temper, a generous heart, and a lovely smile. As he stood there in the doorway, dirty and warm from the baseball lot, he gave his mother one of those quick rare smiles. He interrupted her unspoken greeting to say, “Yes Mom, I’ll wash myself, and I’ll wash the back of my neck and my ears, and I won’t throw my towel on the floor.”

Mom laughed and shook her head, and as Janie filled the water glasses she mused, “Sometimes I think James is Mom’s favorite, and then again perhaps it’s Bill. There’s so much pride in her eyes when she looks at Bill. Of course, Davey is the youngest, and she pets him a lot. Perhaps she loves him the best of all.” Quietly, Mom was there beside her putting the salad on the sideboard, and she bent and kissed the busy little waitress.

“Janie, you’re a good girl. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Lo and behold, there was that special, shining look. And this time it was for me,” thought the suddenly glowing Jane. “Mom is funny. She must like each one of us best of all.”

James was sent to fetch Davey who was playing next door with Robin. Bill came next. “Sorry to be so long, Mom,” he said. “Pete and I were swapping stamps, and I stopped at the playground on the way home to see how the ball game came out. Lincoln school beat Hawthorne, 5 to 2.”

The last part of his sentence was muffled in a face towel. Bill was almost twelve, and no longer had to be told about washing his face and combing his hair, although he sometimes had to be reminded, ever so tactfully, about his neck.

They waited for Daddy. Jane and Davey sat on the front steps where they could see far down the street. She read the comic page aloud to him, and her attention wandered.

“And then what, Janie? What happened next?” Janie pulled her thoughts back to the funny strip, but she watched for Daddy out of one eye. Would he never come? At last the familiar green car turned in at the driveway, and the cry went up, “Daddy’s here! Daddy’s here!”

Mom had tried to teach the children that they should wait until Daddy had his dinner and a look at the paper before they assailed him with their problems. “Give him a chance to catch his breath,” she used to say. “He has to listen to other people’s troubles all day, and by evening he’s really very tired.”

He didn’t look tired at all when he came in. He wanted to know how everyone had spent the day. He kissed Mom and rubbed flour on Janie’s cheek. He picked up Davey and James at once to show how strong he was, and he admired a boat that Bill was carving.

“Come to dinner,” called Mom, and they were all gathered around the table in a minute. Davey said “Grace.” He still needed practice with some of his prayers, and it gave him a feeling of importance to speak to God personally in the name of the family. There was a brisk clatter of knives and forks until they came to the dessert. By that time the rush of the day was left behind, and the quiet of the June evening seemed to find a place in the hearts of the lively Murray brood. Daddy was blowing smoke rings to amuse Mom, and Janie had almost forgotten that he had something up his sleeve, when he put out his cigarette and announced: “I have a plan for going to Oak Lake in case anyone is interested.”

It came as a complete surprise to the boys, and they all talked at once. “Please, children, please,” begged Mom. “One at a time.” Daddy continued: “The case I’ve been working on has been postponed until fall, and your mother and I think that we’ll be able to go to the cottage as usual.”

“What about you, Daddy? Will you be able to come with us?”

“I’ll come out for week-ends. I’ll have to stay in town during the week.”

“What will we do about a car?” asked Billy. “You’ll need the car every day in town, won’t you?”

“That’s true,” said his father, “but if Grandma and Aunt Claire come out for the summer we can use their car. You’ll need a car for shopping and for going to church on Sunday, although how you’ll all squeeze into Aunt Claire’s car, I don’t know.”

“I’ll sit on Grandma’s lap,” said Davey. “I always used to, and I still could.”

“I’ll hang on the rear tire,” said Bill darting a look at Mom who said nothing, but her answering glance said as plain as day, “Oh no, you won’t.”

They talked and talked, and then Daddy pushed back his chair. “Will you youngsters please finish clearing off the table? There are some roses I want your mother to see.”

James and Bill cleared the table while Janie washed the glasses and the silverware. It was Davey’s job to dry the knives, forks, and spoons, and put them away. He was a good-natured little boy and he sang while he worked. If the song was lively he hurried in time with the music, but if the melody was slow and dreamy, so were his actions. Janie watched him dawdling through “Old Black Joe.”

“Try ‘Coming ’Round The Mountain’,” she advised, “or you’ll be here all night.”

The boys clattered along at their own rate, stopping every so often to argue or explain but in spite of it they finished and Jane stacked the plates while the boys ran out into the back yard to play ball.

A curving, enclosed stairway ran from the kitchen to the second floor. The oak treads were worn from the tired tread of maid-servants of the past, but Janie’s limber young legs flew up to the second floor two steps at a time, and then down the hall to her room. Pulling and tugging, she managed to open the bottom drawer of the built-in dresser way at the back of her clothes closet. There they were, her lake clothes. She tried on some of them. They felt small and light after wearing the heavy sweaters and woolen skirts during a Wisconsin spring. She stretched out across her bed and listened to the gentle evening sounds of Springhill. “This turned out to be a very nice day after all,” she thought. “Tomorrow I must ask Mom about some new playsuits. I’ll need some blue jeans for fishing down at the dam with the boys. I wonder if that old pickerel is still there; this year I’ll surely catch him.” Billy came pounding up the front stairs to his room looking for a catching mitt, and she called,

“Billy, let’s go on an all day boat trip down the canal this summer and really explore it.”

Flushed from play, Billy stood in the doorway between their rooms. He was the oldest Murray boy, and the natural leader in all their games and adventures. Almost as tall as Janie, he was so sturdily built, that when ever they played circus he was always the strong man. He had blue eyes and fat cheeks and pin-point freckles scattered like the milky way across his upturned nose. James would spend hours with a book, but Bill liked people and people liked Bill.

“No,” he said. “The last time we wanted to take an all day boat trip down the canal Davey fell in head first and James got into a mess of poison ivy. Mom said we couldn’t go again. I’d like to build a diving helmet so that I could find treasures on the bottom of the lake, and I’d like to have a hay ride for a birthday party.”

“Birthday party? But your birthday....”

“Yes, I know, my birthday is on Christmas eve, and every one is so excited about Christmas that I never have a real party like other kids do, so sometime I’m going to have a hay ride with a man to play the concertina and cases and cases of pop.”

Jane laughed, but she looked at her brother affectionately. “When I’m a millionaire,” she said, “I’ll take you for a hay ride every summer night. Isn’t it funny,” she continued, “how we plan what we’re going to do during the summer, and we never quite do what we plan? Usually something much more exciting happens. I wonder what it will be this year?”

_Chapter Two_

_Who Peppered the Cake_

Janie lay in bed enjoying the grand feeling of the first day of vacation. Doves circled in and out of the poplar hedge across the street. It was still early. The rest of the family was asleep, but lying in bed was a waste of time. Slipping into a playsuit, she tiptoed down the back stairs and into the kitchen.

Butchie set up a delighted “chee--chee” at the sight of her, and she crossed to the porch door and let him in. The organ-grinder man had taught Butch to eat his meals sitting at a little table, and there he was perched with a bib around his neck while Jane warmed his porridge. He had some difficulty managing his spoon while he was eating, but Janie encouraged him,

“Never you mind, Butch. All two-year olds spill a little. You’re doing wonderfully well. Keep it up, Butchie, old boy.”

When the porridge dish was empty he had a mug of warmed milk. That was easy. He grasped the mug firmly in his paws and drank the milk in dainty little sips. As a special reward Janie gave him half a banana. He was delighted. He talked monkey language while he ate, and now and then he’d offer some to Janie, but she politely refused.

The rest of the family was awake by now, and she hurried to set the table on the back porch for a surprise for Mom. It was a beautiful morning. The garden was brilliant with iris, day-lilies, and oriental poppies, and the tall old lilac trees were sweet with bloom.

After breakfast the boys sat on the front steps waiting for the mailman. They were always sending out for approval sheets of stamps, and they’d shade their eyes waiting for the mailman like sea captains of old waiting for their ships to come in.

Janie was impatient. “Mom,” she said. “_When_ can we go to the lake? Could we go out next week-end, or will we have to wait until the end of June when Aunt Claire’s school is out?”

Mom raised her eyebrows and smiled a smug little smile. “That’s part of the surprise,” she said. “We’re leaving today. I’ve been hoping we could go, and I’ve been getting things ready for the past week.”

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of busy arms and legs and suitcases and paper boxes.

“Now, let’s see,” said Mom with a list in her hand. “I mustn’t forget anything. I must go to the drug store, the bank, and the postoffice, and, oh yes, the library.”

Billy and James packed the trunk of the car. Sheets and towels were stacked neatly in paper cartons. There were boxes of slacks, shirts, and swimming trunks, pillows and quilts, and cotton bed spreads.

“I’ll bring my first-aid box,” said Bill, and that gave James an idea. He came downstairs with his entire stamp collection piled like the leaning Tower of Pisa in his arms.

Janie cocked her chin to one side and put her fists on her hips. “You know that Mom won’t let you bring all that junk along.”

“Junk!” exclaimed James indignantly. “These are my duplicates. I’m going to sort them out this summer.” He set the stack down carefully on the back porch, and the top-most box toppled over and spilled countless little bright-colored squares all over the floor. James scooped them all up in a hurry, and tucked the boxes, books, and albums into whatever space he could find in the rear of the car.

When Mom returned from her shopping they went down into the cool basement and carefully packed what was left of the home-preserved fruits and vegetables.

“Bring a lot of pickles,” said Davey. “Lots and lots of pickles.”

By the middle of the afternoon everything was ready. Mom went upstairs for a bath and fresh clothes, and Janie decided to surprise her.

They were going to have a picnic supper, and she felt that it should be something special to celebrate the occasion. She paged through the cook books and the recipe files and lost a little of her courage. I’d better limit myself to a dessert, she thought. The last time I tried a whole meal it didn’t turn out so well. A very handsome three-layer cake took her eye, and she assembled all her ingredients, and then gathered together all the bowls, pans, and spoons she would need.

Davey walked in carrying Butch. Janie dusted the flour off her hands, and raised her eyebrows in an expression of true big-sister superiority.

“I thought, Davey,” she said, “that Mom wanted you to keep Butch outside today.”

Davey looked plaintive. “I know,” he grumbled, “but we want to play hide-and-go-seek, and he always runs to where I’m hiding, and then I’m always ‘it’.”

Janie giggled. “Okay, Davey. Leave him here. I’ll take care of him.”

Butch was very interested in the cake baking, but Janie discouraged him. She ordered him out on the back porch. She stamped her foot at him and shoved him, but he’d only come back again. He watched everything she did, and when she bent over to light the oven, he saw his golden opportunity. He jumped up on the table and added his contribution to the cake. He had watched Janie shake a little of this and a little of that into the cake, so he picked up a shaker marked PEPPER and looked at her out of his beady eyes. She was still fussing with the oven, so he quickly shook the can into the cake batter and hurried back to his post of exile at the kitchen door.