Part 5

Grandma got in first, and seated herself comfortably in the back. Billy and Katherine ranged themselves beside her on the seat, and James came panting up at the last minute, carrying a stool and a cushion, so that he could sit on the floor. Grandma counted heads.

“Where’s Davey?” she asked. “Everybody’s here but Davey.”

Just as they called him he came trudging up the steps of the rock garden, carrying Butch. Butch was wearing his best suit, red trousers with a bright, yellow cotton blouse, and a little bright red hat cocked over one eye.

Mom groaned. “Oh, Davey,” she said, “why do you have to bring him along? We’re crowded, and he’s so hard to take care of when we get to Deerpath. Don’t you remember all the trouble we had the last time you took him along? Do you remember how he got away from you and started throwing lemons and oranges around in the store?”

Butch put both hands to his heart in an attitude of prayerful entreaty. Everyone laughed, even Mom.

“Well, all right this time,” she said, “but never again.”

Davey settled down blissfully on Grandma’s lap, and Butch sat on Davey’s lap. They looked like a happy three-layer banana cake.

All the way to Deerpath they played White Horse. They were divided into two teams, one for each side of the road. The object was to find white horses and count them. The team with the highest score won. However, if the car passed a cemetery, the team on the same side of the road as the cemetery forfeited its entire score.

Janie was captain of one team, and Billy was captain of the other. The hunting wasn’t very good as they drove along. It seemed that all the horses were far back in the fields working. Janie had a score of 3 and Billy had 2 when they reached the top of a hill just at the outskirts of the village.

“Cemetery!” called Aunt Claire, and Billy’s team lost its score.

Janie was jubilant. “We won! We won!” she exulted. But, Grandma, buried under Davey and Butch, spied victory walking down the road toward them.

“Look what’s coming,” she cried. “Two white horses pulling a load of hay.”

“Oh yes,” said James. “But that only gives your side two, and we have three.”

“Look what’s following,” said Grandma smugly. Hitched to the rear of the load were two of the whitest horses you ever saw. There were loud cheers from Billy’s team as they pulled up in front of the village store.

Janie was patronizing. “You were just lucky,” she said. “That wouldn’t happen again in a hundred years.”

Grandma was the last to crawl out of the car. She shook out her skirts ruefully. “And to think,” she said, “that I pressed this dress just before I started out.”

They split up in groups to do the shopping. The boys made straight for the hardware store that sold fishing supplies. They didn’t buy anything very often, but they would stand for hours in wistful admiration.

The girls went to the drug store to buy picture postcards to send home to Katy’s folks, and Mom and Aunt Claire went to the grocery store.

Grandma, Davey, and Butch started off down the block to a large old-fashioned country store that sold odd lots of almost everything imaginable. You could buy anything from nuts and bolts to flowered chintz. You could buy rubber boots, embroidery cotton, lemon squeezers, and imitation Christmas trees, and sometimes they would all be piled up on one counter.

Mr. Seaman, the proprietor, remembered Grandma from other summers and welcomed her as an old friend.

“How do you do, Mrs. Murray,” he said. “How have you been all winter, and how is your son and his wife? We have a nice stock of white nurses’ oxfords that you might like.”

“No, Mr. Seaman,” said Grandma politely. “I’d like to see some oilcloth for the kitchen shelves.”

“We have that too,” he said, and led her over to the other side of the store.

David stood before a mirror and tried on winter caps such as farmers wear doing chores. They were all much too large for him, and as he discarded them, one by one, Butch would try them on his head, and then throw them on the floor. Grandma looked around and soon put a stop to their foolishness.

Mr. Seaman wrapped her packages, and they started back down the street to the drug store. If the Murrays separated in Deerpath, it was never for long. They always met by common consent at the soda fountain. Billy and James got there first, and they were sitting in a booth reading a comic book and waiting for the others. Just after Grandma walked in with David and Butch, Janie and Katherine arrived. Janie seemed disappointed.

“We’ve looked all over, and they don’t seem to have any fireworks this year.”

Billy waved his hand, as if by that gesture to banish all her difficulties. “Don’t worry,” he promised. “I know where they sell them. It’s a wayside stand on the way home. I’ll get some for you.”

“Oh good.” Janie looked relieved. “I was beginning to worry.”

Mom and Aunt Claire wandered in just then, and Mrs. Skinner came over to take their order. James had a dish of strawberry ice. Davey wanted a chocolate ice-cream cone. Billy ordered a vanilla cone with chocolate “jimmies” sprinkled all over the top. Katy had root beer and Janie had a coke. Grandma wanted root beer, and Mom and Aunt Claire had sodas.

After everyone had ordered, Davey ran over next to Mom and whispered in her ear. She nodded and gave him a penny. He took it over to the counter, and offered it to Mrs. Skinner.

“Please, Mrs. Skinner,” he said. “May I have a sucker for my monkey?”

The ride home was complicated with the addition of a great many packages. Mom seemed to have bought enough supplies to feed even the hungry Murrays for a week. The amiable little car took a deep breath and expanded to hold them all.

Billy kept a lookout for the roadside stand he remembered from the year before. “It’s just beyond the second turn in the road,” he said, “after we pass the farmhouse where we buy currants.” There it stood, just as he said. The farmer was out tacking red, white, and blue bunting to the posts as they stopped the car.

“Yes I have fireworks,” he said. “I’m just unpacking them. If you folks will wait a while, I’ll bring the packages down and you’ll be the first to make a selection.” He went back to the farmhouse, and in a short time returned with his arms full of bundles. Billy and James helped him unfasten strings, and then the beautiful and colorful display lay before them.

It was hard to choose. Billy decided upon salutes, giraffe crackers, and one Roman candle. James hunted around for his favorite brand, that came in a long narrow box. They were smaller than giraffe crackers, but they were packed much tighter, and they made a much louder explosion. Katy bought lady-crackers quickly and quietly, while David was still spreading out his pennies. Jane was torn between skyrockets, which were flamboyant and expensive, and the more conservative lady-crackers. She stood on one foot and then on the other. Finally, she bought one skyrocket and two packages of lady-crackers.

Davey came back to the car beaming. He had two packages of giraffe crackers and some pin wheels and a flower pot. He was feeling very adult.

“Goodness,” said Aunt Claire, as she looked over his assortment. “You’ll blow us to kingdom come!”

Once more they started off for home. Just as they were about to turn off the main highway, Billy leaned out of the window and shouted and waved at a passenger car. It was Hoyer, he explained, and the Byrnes twins and Johnny Engelhardt. “They’re all kids in my class,” he added. “They’re probably going out to Harwood’s.”

Everyone helped to unload the car when they reached the cottage gate. As soon as the perishable food was put away Mom sat down at the table with Grandma and Aunt Claire and began to talk over plans for the week-end holiday.

“It’s rather hard to plan exactly,” she said, “because you never know who is coming.”

“Pshaw,” said Grandma calmly. “Just have a lot. If we have fine weather, plenty of food, and good friends gathered around, the party is a success before it starts.”

“That’s right,” Mom agreed, “and that removes all my uncertainties except the weather.”

There was a pleasant prickly feeling of anticipation in the air. The children were very well behaved. Janie didn’t lose her temper, and Billy didn’t tease. James was rumored to have been seen with a dish towel in his hand after meals, and Davey trotted around like a little lamb. Even Butchie declared a short truce. He was quiet and good.

Thursday was the Fourth of July, and all day Wednesday the Murrays raked and weeded and polished and cleaned. Daddy arrived at sundown and was greeted with joy. Aunt Claire had baked homemade bread, and Mom had baked cakes. Davey had decorated the lake front with flags, and the boys were most anxious to show their father a long picnic table they had set up on the terrace. Daddy held his arms up in the air and laughed at their eagerness.

“One at a time, boys,” he said. “I’ll have to have something to eat before I start out on this tour of review. I’ve been so busy all day that I haven’t had a bite since breakfast.”

In a little while he walked around and admired everything. “You certainly have worked hard, and you’ve been very good children,” he said. “And, because you’ve been so good, I’m going to take you over to the firecracker stand and buy you some firecrackers.”

The response to this sounded like a football game, and looked like one too, for that matter. Poor Daddy was literally overwhelmed. Everyone tried to hug him at once, and he fell to the ground with them in a laughing, whirling nigger-pile.

“Hey, Mom,” he called. “Get me out of this. These kids are too much for me.” They pulled him to his feet and brushed him off. Mom waved to them as they started away. “Don’t be too long,” she said. “Remember, tomorrow is a big day.”

They were home again by eight o’clock, and in bed by nine. In spite of the excitement, they were quiet, and they soon fell asleep. When Mom came in to check up before her bed time, she smiled to see Billy fast asleep with a string tied to his wrist. It stretched across to the other side of the room, where it was securely tied to Davey’s toe. They had their firecrackers neatly stacked under their beds.

Mom called Grandma and Daddy and Aunt Claire, and they tiptoed up stairs. Daddy laughed and marveled at the plan.

“Good night, folks,” he said. “We’d better sleep while we can. Something tells me that it’s going to be noisy around here tomorrow morning.”

_Chapter Eight_

_The Fourth Was Full of Fun_

It was.

It sounded like the third day of the battle of Gettysburg. Giraffe crackers and salutes were crashing on all sides. Nigger-chasers danced across the pavement of the terrace with a staccato ticktacktoe. All over the lake people were celebrating. Flags were flying, and there was the intermittent pop and boom of firecrackers all the way from Hawk Point around to Poplar Bay.

Katy and Jane were sitting on the front steps, watching the boys. They’d put their hands over their ears and run whenever Billy would touch off a big one. James was barefooted and still wearing his pajama pants when Mom came out, and Davey wore his good trousers.

“Back in the house with you,” ordered Mom. “Get dressed and washed, and sit down to the table and eat breakfast. The company will start coming pretty soon, and I want everyone all cleaned up, and the porch cleared off before they get here.”

Breakfast was wonderful. Waffles with maple syrup and honey. Bacon curls, and melons with raspberries heaped in their scooped out centers. Grandma poured coffee out of a shining bubbling percolator, and the children had cold chocolate milk.

Butchie was having a fine time. He loved noise and excitement. He wasn’t the least bit afraid of the firecrackers, but he had seen the girls put their hands over their ears, and, mimic that he was, he imitated them.

By ten o’clock the first car load of company arrived.

“It’s Uncle George,” called Billy, “and he’s carrying a watermelon. The Davises are with him too. Here comes Grandma Davis and Dorothy and Louise. Margy and the baby came too.”

The Davises were Mom’s family. They didn’t share the Murray boys’ enthusiasm for collecting frogs, but they all played a good game of base ball, even Grandma Davis.

Janie reached joyfully for the baby, as the Davis girls emerged from the car. They had swimming suits and base ball bats and cameras and sun glasses.

Louise made a beeline for the bathhouse. “I’ve been waiting for this all week,” she announced. “I’m going to swim all day.”

Dorothy called to Billy and James. “One of the men at the office won a case of soda pop,” she said, “and he gave it to me. It’s in the trunk of the car. Would you like to help me carry it down?”

James’ eyes popped, and his voice rose to a shriek, the way it always did when he got excited:

“A case of soda pop! Great hopping catfish!... A whole case? The most I ever had at one time was the day we went to the wedding, and Uncle George gave me a whole bottle.”

Margie and Mom installed the baby in the tea cart. By removing the glass tray at the top, and lining the inner compartment with pillows, it became a fine emergency baby carriage.

“Why, I can remember when you used to sit in here,” said Mom to Katy. Margie turned to Jane. “I can remember when you used to ride in the tea cart, too. You were fat and bald and sassy.” Janie turned pink and laughed.

“Well,” she admitted. “I’m still sassy.”

The neighbors had company, too. There were three cars parked in Landry’s back lot. There must have been thirty people over at Williams. There was a badminton game and horseshoe pitching going on in their lower lot, and young folks in pretty bright clothes were sitting around on the lawn near the house. The crackling of the fireworks kept up. The sun shone bright and the breeze was cool. It was a lovely day.

Margie didn’t want to go swimming with the others, because she couldn’t leave the baby, but Janie had an idea.

“Grandma,” she said. “Why don’t you wear a big hat, and come out as far as the raft in the boat? We’d row you out, and you could hold the baby on your lap. Then Margy could swim with us, and both you and the baby would be close by and you wouldn’t miss any of the fun.”

“Why, I’d be glad to, if Margy would trust me with her baby,” exclaimed Grandma.

Margy laughed. “After all the babies you’ve held in your day? I should say I trust you.”

Everyone went swimming. They had races and they tried all sorts of stunts. The baby was very excited and happy. She squirmed and gurgled and clapped her hands. Uncle George swam over next to the boat and called up to her,

“Hi, sweetheart!”

She gave a quick lurch, and as fast as the wink of an eye, she was overboard and in the water. Grandma gasped, but Uncle George caught her firmly by the hem of her little white dress when her body was just at water level. Her arms and legs paddled as naturally as a tadpole. She splashed and squealed in her new found element.

“Anyone can see,” said Uncle George, “that she’s a cousin of the Murrays.”

Grandma Davis was afraid of getting her shoulders sunburned, and she was the first one out of the water. One by one, and two by two, the grownups followed her until only the children were left, and they were the last to leave the raft.

The baby was given a quick rubdown and some dry clothes. Then she was fed her own private lunch of mashed banana and spinach and milk, and she was put to bed for her nap.

The Hansens came, Bob and Dorothy, and their browneyed youngster. The men sat down at the lake front and talked in their deep rumbling voices. The ladies dashed about in a pleasant sort of flurry, getting the dinner ready. Grandma made coffee in the picnic coffee pot. It held two gallons of coffee. It smelled of picnics and hikes and wood fires. Janie never drank coffee, but she loved the memories of a sniff of the fat old coffee pot.

Dorothy and Louise cut cakes and shook fancy salads out of star-shaped molds. Aunt Claire sliced homemade bread and arranged some of her crisp, pungent dill pickles on a tray. Margy cut ham, and Mom opened the oven door now and then to look at a huge roasting pan full of brown baked beans. James stuck his nose against the screen door.

“Mom,” he said. “I’m hungry.”

“In just a minute, chum,” said Louise. “I’m about ready to call you in.” As soon as she called the children hurried in, picked up their heaped up plates, and took them to the terrace. Here they ate and gabbled to their hearts’ content while the grownups stayed on the porch.

After dinner James took a book and two bottles of pop and disappeared.

“I know where he is,” said Bill. “Whenever he gets it into his head that he wants to be alone, he climbs up the rain spout at the back of the cottage and lies on the roof. It’s shady there and no one can find him. Daddy always says that James is the family genius. I think he’s crazy.”

Janie laughed. “They both mean the same thing,” she said, flippantly.

David and Billy volunteered to burn all the used paper dishes, and as soon as this was done tireless Davey demanded:

“When are we going swimming?”

“You just finished eating,” Mom answered. “Not for two hours, at least.”

“Then let’s play ball.”

“Whew! Why don’t we hitch you up to a power plant? You know, Davey,” she said, “these people have just had their dinner, and they couldn’t run from one base to another if they tried. Better wait a little while.”

Not at all cast down, Davey retired to the pier and shot off firecrackers. He would light them, and then toss them into the water. Sometimes the water would put them out, but almost always he would hear a dull plop, and see a small geyser rise up at the scene of the explosion.

The Landrys were down at the lake front, watching a sailboat race, and Davey called out to them.

“Where’s Buick, Mrs. Landry? I haven’t seen him all day.”

Mrs. Landry shook her head and smiled. “Poor Buick,” she said. “He’s having a bad time of it. He’s on the floor in the farthest corner of my clothes closet with an overcoat over his head.”

“What’s the matter with him?” asked David in alarm. “Is he sick?”

“No,” said Mrs. Landry. “He’s scared to death of firecrackers.”

The ladies were sitting on the terrace, playing with the baby and admiring her tricks, when suddenly there was a scraping noise, then a shriek, and James, all whirling arms and legs, descended amongst them. What had been a peaceful family gathering turned into the wildest confusion. Dad picked him up and carried him into the cottage. He was conscious, but he was pale and shaken. His lips were blue.

“My arm,” he said. “It hurts.”

Dad felt the arm swiftly, and scrutinized it carefully.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” he said. “But it should be, with the fall you had. Where did you come from, anyway? Were you up in the tree, or did you drop out of a passing airplane?”

“No,” said James. “I was up on the roof. It slants there at the corner, and I must have fallen asleep, and dropped off.”

“You dropped right into our laps,” said Mom. “Thank heaven you’re safe.”

Aunt Claire made a splint out of the top of a small cheese box, and they wrapped up the injured arm temporarily.

“It will be hard to find a doctor today,” Dad said. “They’re all away from their offices for the holiday. By the way, James, there seems to be some special connection between doctors and holidays for you. You were born on Easter. You had measles one Christmas, and whooping cough the next, and now you come flying off the roof on the Fourth of July.”

They tried to reach Dr. Russell, but he wasn’t in. They finally reached Dr. Cordes in Deerpath.

“From your description,” he said, “it isn’t broken. Put him to bed, and keep him quiet. I’ll drop over to see him in the morning.”

James smiled at the news, and made a small face.

Davey was relieved. “Now,” he demanded. “_Now_ can we play ball?”

Everyone laughed, and the tension was broken. Grandma sat with James, and rocked and talked to him quietly. The others trooped out to the back yard for a ball game. Sides were chosen, and Uncle George bawled out, in the style of a big league umpire: “PLAY BALL!”

Grandma Davis made the first home run, and Mom sat on the side lines, fanning herself. “Count me out,” she said. “I’ve had a busy day.”

They batted and ran and stole bases, and cheered for their teammates. They grew warm and dirty, and consumed quarts of soda pop, but they had glorious fun. At six o’clock they all trooped down to the lake for a swim before supper.

James had milk toast. He still looked pale and interesting, with one arm stiff and fat in a sling.

“I know why you fell off the roof,” said Billy, peeking in the door. “I’ll bet you lost your balance because you were so full of soda pop!”

After supper Dad played the piano, and they all gathered around to sing. They sang cowboy songs: _Red River Valley_, and _Oh Bury Me Not_. They sang sentimental ballads and negro spirituals. Dad’s fingers ran easily from one familiar melody to the next. “How about the _Star Spangled Banner_,” he asked. They all joined in, even James from his bed, and the baby from the tea cart. Just as the sun sank behind the trees, he turned to Margy and played the opening bars of _Now The Day is Over_. Her sweet voice rose strong and clear. Everyone was quiet and listened to her. The birds twittered, and it was getting dark.

“That was beautiful,” said Janie. “That was the nicest song of all.”

The popping and crackling of firecrackers had been going on all day, and now that it was dark, splashes of beautifully colored light appeared in the sky on all sides.

“The skyrockets are starting,” cried Bill, and everyone ran down to the lake front to watch. James had fallen asleep, so Mom closed his door and tiptoed off.

It was a beautiful night. The sky was dark blue, and far over across the lake someone had started a bonfire. It was yellow and orange against the darkness. The children lit sparklers, and carried one in each hand as they danced like fireflies on the lawn.

One by one, Daddy would help them shoot off their skyrockets. He would fasten them to a tree, and touch the wick with a match. They held their breath as the rocket swept up, up, and up. Whee--eee--eee! Then the giant bubble would burst, and great colored stars would float upon the night.

Davey craned his neck, and held Grandma’s hand. With all his heart he wished that just one star would float down within his grasp, but they vanished like soap bubbles. Just as one fiery arc would disappear, another would take its place. There were pin wheels whirling their light from posts and trees, and now and then they could hear the swift whoosh and flare of a Roman candle. Katy and Jane lay far out on the pier and watched the display.

Gradually the night grew dark again, and the folks went back to the porch. Good nights and good-bys were said. The sleeping baby, the empty cake dishes, and the rattling pop bottles were tucked into the car, and the Davises went back to town.

Janie lay awake until it was very late. The young folks next door were dancing on their front porch. Someone played an accordion, and it was pleasant lying there in the darkness, half awake, listening. The music faded away. The dancers called out their good nights and went home. The lights went out, and the Fourth of July was almost over. Janie fell asleep.

Buick emerged from under Landry’s porch, and looked around warily. It was very quiet. The battle was over. He shook himself and stretched, and then trotted down to the lake front and lapped the cool water.

_Chapter Nine_

_Billy Battles the Storm_