Part 2

With this piece of mischief out of the way, he was content to sit and watch. After the shining flour sifter and the fascinating egg beater had been put away, he ran in to Mom’s chair in the library, and peered over her shoulder offering advice as she wrote letters. Mom bounced him in a hurry.

“Go away, you heathenish creature, or I’ll give you to the zoo.”

Jane shook her head and laughed. “You certainly are a problem, Butch. We’ve never had a two year old who caused so much commotion.”

“Or was so much fun,” added Mom.

Janie ran down the street to say good-by to Dor, and when she got back the back porch was half filled with suitcases, packing boxes, bundles of all descriptions, and even house plants.

“Goodness, Mom,” exclaimed Janie. “Where are we going to put all this stuff? Where will _we_ sit?”

“Daddy’s going to hire a trailer for this trip, dear. Now don’t forget to remind me to turn off all the lights, and don’t let’s forget about this big basket. It’s our supper.”

Billy whistled. “Oh boy! Two picnics in one day.”

Butch was just as excited as the children. He hopped from Davey to James and from Billy to Jane. He had his own suitcase. It was an old doll suitcase that used to belong to Jane. Davey had packed it with Butchie’s few little toys and belongings. There was a whistle, a top, a bellboy’s hat, and a toothbrush. You, perhaps, never heard of a monkey with a toothbrush, but Butchie imitated the boys, and his toothbrush was his especial pride.

“Take it easy, old fella,” said Bill. “We won’t leave you behind.”

“Chee--chee,” said Butch, as if he meant: “With this scatterbrain family, I’m taking no chances.”

A little after five o’clock Daddy came down the drive with a bright yellow trailer attached to the car, and for the next half an hour everyone worked like a beaver. Daddy superintended the loading, and Mom checked and rechecked the house and garage, the lights, the faucets, the windows, and the doors. At last everything was ready, and they rolled down the driveway and into the street. They passed through the shopping center and over the river and up the hill to the county buildings.

The stop light turned green and they turned out on the road that led to Oak Lake. The distance was only about twenty-five miles, and they usually whisked out there in no time, but with their heavy load they traveled along at a leisurely rate, singing as they went.

The Murrays always sang as they drove. They sang as easily as the birds on the telephone wires, going from one old favorite to the other. They liked to sing rounds, like “Three Blind Mice” and “O The Bull Frog on the Bank.” Someone always started “The Quilting Party,” and Daddy could be counted on for “Swing Low Sweet Chariot.” While they warbled along the highway Butch carefully untied Jane’s hair ribbon, and placed it on Billy’s head.

Now they were coming to a hill that the Murray children always waited for, because far down at the left was a small lake rimmed with cattails and spruce trees.

Once, long ago, Janie had seen a heron, startled, fly off on his great brown wings, and sometimes in spring it was the resting place for northern bound flocks of loudly crying wild geese. Tonight it lay there, rose colored in the evening light, like a fallen maple leaf. “Our little lake,” said Janie, softly. “I wonder if it has a name.”

Every foot of the way was familiar. The fox farm, the barn they had seen collapse the night of the big wind, the farm that always had such fat little pigs, and then one more hill and the road turned off to the lake.

Daddy drove carefully off the main highway onto the graveled road. They passed the haunted house and turned at the canal, went around the curve and there sparkling in the sunset, lay beautiful Oak Lake.

The planks of the short bridge at the canal rattled under them, and from there they could see the cottage. There was an iron fence with large stone posts at the gate, and as the car stopped all the children seemed to escape at once.

Mom unlocked the door while Dad lowered the awnings, and then they worked quickly to unload the trailer. Billy stopped with a carton in his arms.

“You know, Dad,” he said. “I saw a newsreel once of some coolies unloading a ship. They formed a long line and passed the stuff from one to the other. Why don’t we do that? We could be finished sooner.”

Dad knew that they never minded work if it seemed like a game, so a relay it was. Daddy stood at the trailer and Mom was at the end of the line.

When everything was in, Mom called, “Who wants a swim before supper?”

“I do.”

“I do.”

“I’m so hungry I could eat a raw fish.”

“Please don’t.”

“I’m so hungry I could eat grass.”

While the boys talked, Janie raced into her swimming suit. She was the first one ready, and called over the top of the bath house partition: “Last one in is a rotten egg!”

“Splash!”

“Splash!”

“Splash!”

“Splash!”

Then a big splash for Mom and a bigger splash for Dad, and the Murrays were in for the first swim of the season.

The water was cooler than they expected. Mom called it cold, and Dad called it bracing. Far over on the western shore the sun went down behind the purple woods, and the swallows dipped close to the water and then up again.

“Look at the swallows,” called James. “They’re dive bombing.”

“They’re dive bombing, all right,” said Daddy, “but their targets are only mosquitoes.”

“Last one out is a bum,” called Mom, and her wet brood followed her out like ducklings follow the mother duck.

The contents of the picnic baskets were spread on the long table, and Janie’s cake was the center of attention. It was covered with pale pink frosting, and she had garnished the edge of the plate with pansies and maiden hair fern. They waited expectantly while Janie cut slices for Mom and Dad and the boys and a good sized slice for herself. Mom took the first bite.

“M’m’m, most interesting flavor. What seasoning did you use?”

Daddy looked puzzled and took a second bite. “There’s something different about this cake, Janie. I can’t quite place it.”

Janie tasted it. “It’s pepper,” she cried. “It tastes like pepper.” She glanced immediately at Butch, and squinted her eyes in suspicion. “If I hadn’t watched you every minute of the time, I would suspect....”

She didn’t finish her sentence. Butchie, a picture of innocence, was fast asleep.

The boys carried their paper plates down to the lake front and built a fire with them.

“I’m a heap big Indian chief,” chanted Davey. He danced around and around the blaze.

“Indians used to dance here a hundred years ago,” said Jane. “I know, because we found arrowheads. Do you remember, Billy, when the farmer uncovered all those wonderful Indian relics while he was plowing? The level of the lake was higher then. They must have had happy celebrations just like we do now, and they must have loved this part of the country very much. Just think how filled the lake must have been with fish, and the woods over there on the western shore were filled with deer and rabbits and pheasants, and....”

“Bears,” interrupted James. “Big brown bears. Here comes Dad. Let’s ask him to tell us a story about the Indians who used to live here.”

Dad sat down cross-legged before the dying fire and told them a long story about an Indian who caught a pickerel who could talk. The story went on and on until it was quite dark and the stars came out. Mom came down and chased them off to bed.

“There’s going to be a big day tomorrow,” she said. “We have to get the weeds out of the garden.”

Jane came back to the porch after she was ready for bed, and found Mom reading. “Would you like a sandwich,” she asked. “The failure of my cake left me hungry.”

“M’m,” said Mom, without looking up.

“Make one for me too, Petunia,” said Dad.

The kitchen seemed warm, and as Janie opened the window, a robin flew away. “Our friend is back,” called Jane. “That same robin has been making her nest here on the window sill for a long time now. We’ll have to be careful about opening the window. She doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

She finished her sandwiches and carried them back to the porch. “Could I have Katy visit me this year, Mom?”

“Yes, Janie. I’ll ask Katy’s mother the next time I see her. Perhaps she can come out to spend the Fourth of July with us. Does that settle all your problems?”

“Yes, Mom, and I’m so sleepy I can hardly stay awake another minute. Good night Daddy. Goodnight Mom. Oh, but it’s nice to be at the lake again.”

_Chapter Three_

_The Purse in the Trash Pile_

It was the twelfth of June. Everyone else was asleep, so Janie dressed quietly and went out into the garden to hoe while it was still cool.

The dew was on the grass, and she surprised a fat little rabbit eating clover. She laughed. He looked so silly when he ran, with his white dab of a tail.

The garden was across the road and way at the back of the lot. It was pleasant there. You could see far off across the fields as far as the swamp where the tamaracks grew. Janie had never been as far as that swamp. Daddy said it was like a jungle. The trees grew so thick you could hardly walk through it, and there were snakes and even quicksand. It looked very pretty this morning in the soft light. The tamaracks were like soft green fur.

Janie hoed and weeded and worked away at her share of the garden. After a while Billy came across the road. “Hi, Bill,” she called. “Hurry over here. I have an idea.” He came on the bound, and she laughed to see him run. He’s like that little rabbit I saw a while ago, she thought. He’s good natured and he has fat cheeks.

“What’s your idea, Jane?” demanded Bill.

“I’ve been out here toiling in the corn like old black Joe while you were asleep, and now I’m all tuckered out. Sit down here under this tree, and I’ll tell you all about it. You see that old trash heap there in the next lot? Well, when Mrs. Saunders went back to Chicago last fall, she cleaned house, and she threw away a lot of really good junk. She had a cleaning woman helping her, and they tossed out stuff by the bushel basket. Mom wouldn’t let me take any of it then, because she said we had enough junk of our own to clean up, but I’d just like to poke around and see if there’s anything there we could use.”

“What could we do with it?” asked Billy.

“Don’t you remember the time we found the wheels and made a wagon?”

“Yes, but there were only three wheels, so it turned out to be an airplane.”

“Yes, and do you remember the time we found the clock, and how Davey monkeyed with it for weeks, and then one night when we were all asleep it started to strike, and scared us half to death?”

Billy laughed and shook his head. “Poor old clock,” he said. “It struck twenty times in a row, and then it never ticked again.”

They started back down to the cottage for breakfast. There were pancakes and syrup, and cold milk, and a big bowl of fresh strawberries. They ate at a long narrow table placed in front of the open windows at the west end of the porch. Old-fashioned moss roses were in bloom beneath the windows. The lake lay out in front of them, smooth and blue, and a family of tiny wild canaries were very busy with a piece of string in the willow tree.

After breakfast Janie made her bed, and then walked out in the back yard again. The boys were doing their share of the gardening, and with her eyes closed Janie could have guessed what was going on. Any strong interest in gardening usually lasted until a worm was turned over, and then someone would say, “Let’s go fishing.” Whatever cultivation the garden got from there on was accidental.

The pattern was slightly different this morning. Davey turned over a flat stepping stone, and found part of an ant colony. He called, “Hey, fellows, look at this,” and hoeing was cheerfully suspended while the boys traced the progress of the ants by turning over stone after stone in the garden path. They lay flat on their stomachs, marveling at the intricate tunnels, and the clever way the little creatures maneuvered loads much larger than themselves.

Janie felt very virtuous, with her share of the weeding finished. “Now,” she said. “If you boys would work as hard as those ants do, we’d have a beautiful garden.” Billy rolled on his back and grinned lazily as he squinted up at the sun.

“Aw,” he said, “it’s too hot to work. Let’s go swimming.”

The four children trailed down through the front yard toward the bathhouse.

“Oh, Mom,” called Janie. “Do you want to come swimming with us?”

Mom came to the screen door. Her hair was tied up in a turban, and she had work gloves on her hands and smudges on her face. “Look at me,” she said. “I’ve been waxing floors, and I don’t have enough ambition left to swim as far as the raft. I’ll sit on the beach and play lifeguard.”

The boys splashed noisily off in the row boat, but Janie walked out to the raft. On a quiet day like this you could see all sorts of interesting things in the water. A large school of minnows swam ahead of her as she waded. There were clams on the floor of the lake, and colored rocks. Daddy said that some of these rocks had the imprint of tropical plants, fernlike tracings from the time when the world was still being made. There were turtles sometimes, but no sign of them this morning.

Janie swam the rest of the way out to the raft, and then stretched out in the sun and watched her brothers. The sun felt warm on her back. She waved at Mom on the beach, and then ran to the edge of the raft and dove into the cool water. They swam around for a short while more, and then headed for shore.

While they ate lunch Billy told Mom about the junk pile in the back lot. “I can’t think of any reason why you can’t go over there, if you’re careful not to get hurt,” she said. “Mrs. Saunders surely wouldn’t mind getting rid of some of that trash pile. The only thing is that you must be careful of rusty wire and broken glass, and things like that.”

“We’ll be careful, Mom,” they promised. After lunch Janie helped Mom with the dishes, and the boys started off for the back yard. They wore Daddy’s cotton work gloves, and James carried a long stick for prodding around. Mom said that it wouldn’t be a very good place for Butch, so he stayed on the porch.

The first thing that Billy dragged out was the leather-covered seat from an old sofa. “This will be great for landing on when we high jump,” he said.

James was overjoyed when he found a large assortment of old medicine bottles. “I’m going to wash these out,” he said, “and use them for my experiments.”

James was always putting strange things together, and shaking them up in a bottle with varying results. Sometimes the cork would blow off, and the stuff would blow all over the room. Sometimes the magic brew would be forgotten, and it would stand around in the heat until Mom would dump it out gingerly with one hand while she held her nose tight shut with the other. Once he put a mixture of unknown chemicals together, and some of it spilled on the floor. All the varnish came off. The spot is still there, covered up with a rug. Mom was really provoked that time, but James always felt that that was one of his best combinations. He piled the empty bottles into a basket and whistled happily while he worked.

Davey collected just like a crow. There was nothing logical in the way he gathered his treasures. Just now he had found the remains of an old parlor lamp, and he was sitting in the grass, taking it apart, “to fix it.” Mom smiled to see him so absorbed, and she shook her head. “I’ll be shaking bits of that old lamp out of his trouser pockets for the next two weeks,” she said. Then she waved at Billy and James and called: “I think you’re all wonderful. Carry on while I find some bean poles.”

Jane walked over to the junk pile and looked around. There certainly was an interesting assortment, but what was that noise? Billy heard it at the same time, and stopped working. It was Butch, chattering and running around in the tall grass.

“Butchie, you’ll cut your paws. Come, Butchie, come back to me,” called Davey.

The little monkey thought that the children were playing with him, and he climbed up on the junk pile. Just as Billy reached down to pick him up, he stuck his paw down among some old dried leaves and picked up a small leather purse. Then, with a shriek and a scurry, he was off again.

“Butch, you naughty monkey, what did you find? Come here, Butch,” called Bill.

Butch was delighted with his prize. He raced off to the little cottage, and there he crawled under the porch, where he buried his loot. He came back to the children clapping his paws together in great satisfaction.

Davey picked him up, and carried him back to the cottage porch. “This time be sure and lock the screen door,” called Billy.

“What do you suppose he found in that purse?” said Jane.

“Oh, it was just some old junk.”

“No, it wasn’t old. It was new. I saw it. It was a good purse, and it was filled with something.”

Billy didn’t answer. He stood there looking puzzled, like a fat-cheeked question mark.

“I don’t get you, Janie.”

“Just the same, Bill, I wish that Butch hadn’t taken the trouble to hide it. Do you suppose we could find where he buried it?”

Billy didn’t look so puzzled any more. “Of course we could find it. Butch never buries anything very deep. He just makes a shallow hole, and covers it over loosely with leaves and grass and stuff. I tell you what let’s do. Let’s go down and get Butch, and send him under the little cottage. We’ll tell him to fetch it back for us.”

Jane said: “All right, Billy. We can try it, but I doubt if it will work. I love Butch. I think he’s clever and cute, but he’s so perverse that if he thought we really wanted him to do one thing, he’d do another.”

They walked down to the cottage together and found Butch playing the piano. He was delighted to see them so soon after he had been banished, and he seemed to listen very carefully while Billy explained what they wanted him to do.

“You go back under the little cottage,” said Bill, “and bring us the purse you found.” He gave him a playful little push, and then brother and sister lay flat on the grass, watching to see how he would obey their instructions. He made straight for the hiding place, dug for a moment, and then dragged forth the purse. He held it up for their delighted applause.

“Good work, Butchie.”

“Good monkey!”

Even as they spoke there was a wild uproar, and Buick, the neighbor’s dog appeared at the other side of the cottage. He was barking with all the fury that the sight of the monkey always aroused in him.

Butch grabbed his prize to his chest, and raced for the porch pillars. He was up as fast as you could call his name. Once off the ground, he was safe from Buick’s angry barking. He put his purse in a safe place, and then leaned over the porch roof to see what was going on. When the children would beg him to come down he would place both paws over his heart, and roll his eyes, as if to say, “Can’t you see that this black, short-legged, bewhiskered monster would tear me to shreds?” The next minute he would wave his little red shirt like a bullfighter at the dog, and grin and prance in glee from his safe perch.

Mom appeared to find out what all the shouting and barking was about. She smiled at Butchie’s predicament, and told Bill to quiet Buick and take him home.

“Okay, Mom. Then I’ll get a ladder and go up and rescue Butch.”

“No, whatever you do, don’t go up on that roof,” said Mrs. Murray seriously. “There’s a loose wire up there that could give you a very bad shock. If Daddy is able to come out this week-end, he’ll go up there and repair it, but in the meantime, don’t any of you go near it.”

Janie’s face fell. She knew what Mom said was true. There was danger of a shock if they crawled up there, but what about the purse? Now they’d have to wait until Saturday to get it. As soon as Billy led Buick away, Butch shinneyed down the porch pillar and Jane carried him to the big cottage.

Mom greeted her with some good news. “I expect Grandma and Aunt Claire out here one of these days, perhaps tomorrow. We’ll have to air out the little cottage, and get it ready for them.”

The children were glad. Grandma was a great favorite. She was one of those rare persons who had energy and enthusiasm to spare, and though her curly hair was white, and her knees were a bit stiff, she knew all kinds of tricks and games. She could hold a sick child on her lap, and sing to him and tell him stories until the pain would go away. She could end a quarrel by telling a funny story, and she never forgot a child’s favorite dish.

She always carried a large black purse, and what wonders it contained! There were rolls of caramels and fruit drops, peppermints and gum. There was a coin purse that jingled with pennies and nickels and dimes for children who had been especially good.

Aunt Claire was Grandma’s only daughter, and she lived with her. She was a jolly little person with twinkling brown eyes. She could paint beautiful pictures, and she knew just where to catch big fish. She didn’t invent stories like Daddy did. She read aloud, which pleased the children just as much, and she won the undying respect of her nephews by being able to bait her own hook.

Just at that time the nephews would rather be baiting hooks than preparing for their Aunt’s arrival, but off to the little cottage they marched with brooms and mops and dust cloths.

Billy took off a screen and climbed through the window. His brothers followed him. They, might have to clean house, but nothing so common place as walking through a door to do it. Oh no. They dusted with vigor, if not with care. James slyly tripped Billy with a wet mop, and Davey hid under the bed while Mom scolded about it.

In less than an hour everything was bright and clean. Janie ran to the garden and picked a bouquet of pansies to put beside Grandma’s bed and Davey fixed a glass of lemonade to stand beside Aunt Claire’s bed. No one told him that it would be warm and stale by the next day. It was his contribution, and he was seriously praised for his thoughtfulness.

Mom walked out on the pier just as Janie, Billy and James were leaving to go fishing.

“I am the bearer of sad tidings,” she said.

They looked at her blankly.

“Mrs. Saunders’ junk pile,” she explained, “is only half cleaned up. You’ll have to finish it.”

“Yes, Mom,” said Billy soothingly. “As soon as we get back from fishing.”

“No, Billy. The place is the back yard, and the time is _now_.”

“Janie has to help too,” said Bill. “She thought of it in the first place.”

“That’s just fine with me,” Mom assured him. “Now hurry and finish clearing up that mess before Grandma gets here.”

The disgruntled trio started back to Mrs. Saunders’ yard.

“Creepers!” said James. “All we did today was work!”

_Chapter Four_

_The Turtle Who Towed the Boat_

One morning Janie awoke to hear the dripping of the leaves and the soft splashing of the rain against her window. She yawned, stretched, and turned over for another nap. How peaceful it was. She squirmed in sheer comfort.

Then she sneezed. Her ear tickled and she scratched it. Her nose tickled again, and all of a sudden she was wide awake and yelling angrily.

“Billy, get out of here! I know you’re behind that dresser. I saw you try to tickle me with your old feather!”

Mrs. Murray appeared at the door and pulled Billy out from behind the dresser. “Now, my boy,” she wanted to know, “what are you doing here?” He looked silly, standing there in his pajamas, holding a feather attached to a wand.

“Gee, Mom. I was only trying to wake her, so we could go fishing.”

“All right, then. Back upstairs with you, and finish dressing.” Turning to Jane she said: “Do you think it was worth while to lose your temper for a little tickle like that?”

Janie glowered. Her eyebrows were drawn together and her lower lip stuck out in an angry pout. “Mom, he teases me all the time.”