CHAPTER XV

PREPARATIONS FOR THE HOUSEWARMING

The trip to the Metropolitan Museum gave every member of the party a new set of words for her vocabulary. They looked at pictures with opened eyes and talked of their "composition" and "balance." They were all of them more or less interested in photography and now they tried to take photographs that would be real pictures.

"It isn't so easy to make a picture by selecting what you want to have and leaving out the things you don't want," said Roger to Helen one morning as they walked toward Sweetbrier Lodge, "when the things are right there in the landscape and won't get out of the camera's way. A painter would leave out that stupid old wooden house in the field there, but he'd leave in the splendid elm bending over it. Now if I 'shoot' the elm I've got to 'shoot' the house, too."

"The only way out is to take the house at some angle that will show off any good points it may have," declared Helen, wrinkling a puzzled brow.

"Then as likely as not you'll have to take the tree on the side where the lightning hit it and peeled off all its bark," growled her brother gloomily.

"That just shows that a photographer has to be more skilful than a painter," she said. "The painter can do what he likes, but the photographer has to get good results out of what is set before him."

"And as for balance--if nature happens to have placed things in balance, well and good; but if she didn't what can you do about it?"

"Nothing, my child, unless you introduce some object that you have some power over. Put in a girl or a dog or a horse somewhere where their weight will bring about the result you want."

"You can't carry girls and dogs and horses round with you," objected Roger, who was in a depressed mood this morning and found difficulties in every suggestion.

"You've got enough sisters and cousins for the girls, and you can take Christopher Columbus around with you in your pocket to play the four-footed friend," laughed Helen.

"Speaking of Columbus--are we going to celebrate Columbus Day this year?" asked Roger, as he deftly inserted a new spool of film. "It's just luck James and I being here at all, you know. We'd like to do something to celebrate being exposed to scarlet fever as soon as we got to Boston, and being sent home for it to incubate, and then having nothing hatch!"

"Haven't you heard? Aunt Louise is going to have her housewarming on October 12, Columbus Day? She has asked the Club to do something appropriate."

"I thought the Watkinses had asked us to go into New York to see the parade."

"They have. That won't interfere with us. They'll come out here later and then we'll do something in the evening in the new attic to amuse Aunt Louise's guests."

"Any idea what?"

"I've got an idea in the back of my head. I'll have to talk it over first with the girls to see if we can manage the costumes. If we can I think it will be mighty pretty."

Roger nodded absent-mindedly. He had perfect confidence in his sister's good judgment and he was willing to do his part for his aunt's sake as well as for the good name of the Club.

"What are you taking?" Helen asked him after they had roamed about the new place for a time. "You seem to be using a lot of film."

"I am. I thought I'd take the new house and garden from every point of view I could, inside and out, and make two or three portfolios of them and send them to Father and Uncle Richard, as they'd probably like to have them."

"What a perfectly darling idea! Isn't Aunt Louise delighted?"

"She seems to be," returned Roger.

"You knew she had asked Uncle Richard to come up for her house-warming?"

"Father, too; but it's dollars to doughnuts they won't be able to come, so I thought I'd do these any way."

"Father won't be able to, but Uncle Richard may."

"He'll be glad to have the prints even if he has seen the original places."

"Perhaps he'll like them better on that account."

"I think I should. It would be like having your memory illustrated."

"Are you going to do the rockery in the garden?"

"If the frost has left anything."

"It must be placed in just the right spot for there's a lot of it left. I passed it early to-day and it looked almost as pretty as if it were summer."

"Dorothy certainly made a success of that."

"It was an afterthought, too."

"I believe the chief reason it has been so lovely is that it was placed in a natural position. The rocks look as if they ought to be just where they are."

"Mrs. Schermerhorn's rockery looks as if she had said, 'Lo, I'll have a rockery,' and then she stuck it right in the middle of her lawn where no collection of rocks has been for twenty years."

"And she has hot-house ferns in it!"

The brother and sister laughed delightedly at their neighbor's ideas of natural beauty.

"Perhaps it was fortunate that Dorothy didn't have a hot-house to draw on," said Roger, moving from one side to another of his cousin's rockery in order to get the best view of its remaining loveliness.

"Dorothy has too much sense. In the first place she snuggled hers in here under the trees, just the way the rocks are naturally over in FitzJames's Woods. Then she brought over here exactly the plants she found there."

"It had to look as if it were a bit of the woods, didn't it?"

"Do you want me to be in this picture?"

"You look too dressed up."

"Thank you! This is a middy I've worn all summer, and I'm just wearing out the rags of it on Saturdays."

"Nevertheless, you dazzle me."

"That's a polite way of saying you don't want me in the foreground. You'd better put in what Miss Daisy calls 'contemporaneous human interest.' I'm a great addition to any picture in which I appear."

"You are, ma'am, of course," replied Roger with exaggerated politeness, "but I think I'd like you under an arbor in a graceful attitude and not hobnobbing with these wild flowers."

"You forget that wild flowers have been my special care this summer," returned Helen, withdrawing to a point where she would not interfere with Roger's plans. "Dorothy's wild garden is only a copy of mine."

"Not in arrangement. Hers is prettier with everything piled up on the stones this way--columbines, ferns, wild ginger, hepaticas."

"You're right about that. Mine had to be in a regular bed. Are you going to take a picture of the vegetable garden?"

"Certainly I am. And of tomatoes that were started with and without dirt bands."

Roger's chief attention during the summer garden campaign had been devoted to the raising of vegetables, while the girls had done wonders with flowers.

"What are dirt bands?" inquired Helen.

"I know," cried the voice of Ethel Brown who came in sight through the pergola. "They're brown paper cuffs to put around young plants. It keeps the earth all close and cozy and warm and they grow faster than the ones that don't wear such fine clothes."

"Listen to that," Roger said approvingly to Helen. "Those Ethels haven't let anything slip that happened in any of our gardens all summer. They know all about everything!"

"Roger is in a very complimentary mood this morning," laughed Helen. "If I could only think of something to say I'd be polite in return."

"I'm sorry it doesn't come to you spontaneously," replied her brother, "but what care I?" and he broke into song:

"I'm a careless potato, and care not a pin How into existence I came; If they planted me drill-wise or dibbled me in, To me 'tis exactly the same.

The bean and the pea may more loftily tower, But I care not a button for them. Defiance I nod with my beautiful flower When the earth is hoed up to my stem."

"Oo-hoo!" came a voice from the Lodge. "Come in and help."

"There's Dorothy calling," cried Ethel Brown, and they all moved toward the house where they found their cousin on the back porch with an array of plates, bowls, stones, small plants, tiny trees and small china figures before her.

"May I inquire, madam, what on earth--" began Roger, but Ethel Brown's exclamation enlightened him.

"You're making Japanese gardens!"

"I'm going to try to. I think they're awfully pretty and cunning. Let's each make one."

Mrs. Smith had bought a professionally made garden at an Oriental shop in New York, and the girls were seized with a desire to copy it.

"Here's the real thing," and Dorothy indicated a flat bowl of gray and dull green pottery. In it were some stones outlining the bed of a stream over which stretched the span of a tiny porcelain bridge. A twisted tree that looked aged in spite of its height of only three inches reared its evergreen head at one end of the bridge; a patch of grass the size of three fingers grew greenly at the other end, and a goldfish swam happily in a pool at the side.

"Margaret told me that horse-radish would grow if you kept it damp and let it sprout, so I've got several pieces started for our gardens."

Sure enough, the horse-radish had sent forth shoots and a head of small leaves quite tall enough for the size of the garden, and its body looked brownish and gnarled like some bit of queer Oriental wood. Dorothy had taken up little plants of running growth like partridge berry and she had collected many wee ferns.

"We can sprinkle a pinch or two of grass seed and bird seed over them all when they're done," she said. "That ought to bring up something fresh every little while."

"These will be all started for your housewarming," suggested Helen.

"That's why I'm doing them. We can leave them here, and I'll come over every day so they'll be watered. I think they'll be awfully pretty and they'll be different from the usual decorations."

"I read somewhere the other day that the Japs arrange their flowers with a meaning."

"O, they do," cried Dorothy. "They have very little in one holder, perhaps only three flowers. One--the highest one--means Heaven, the next lower is Man, and the lowest is Earth."

"I should have to have a diagram with every vase," insisted Roger.

"The water in the bowl that holds the flowers represents the surface of the earth and the edge of the bowl is the horizon. Then they have ways of suggesting the different seasons--spring by flowers, summer by a lot of green leaves, autumn by bright colored leaves and winter by tall stems without much on them."

"We've got flowers left in the gardens--lots of them," insisted Ethel Brown proudly.

"Plenty," answered Dorothy; "and by this time next year I hope we'll have a little hot-house of our own so that we can have flowering plants all winter, but I like other things, too."

"Miss Daisy was telling me the other day that we Americans didn't pay enough attention to using through the winter branches of trees and seedling trees from the woods and boughs of pine and fir and cedar," said Ethel Blue, who came through the house and had been listening to the conversation.

"I don't see why you couldn't have a small maple-tree growing all winter in the dining-room if you put your mind on it," answered Helen.

"A great jar of Norway spruce with cones hanging from the fingers would be stunning," decided Roger, as he set his horse-radish in place and planted a tree at one end of it.

"The covers for the radiators are all on now," said Dorothy, changing the subject. "Did you notice them when you came through the house?"

The Ethels had not and Helen and Roger had gone directly to the garden, so they all went in on a tour of examination.

"Mother said that there was one thing about heating that she couldn't stand, and that was the ugly radiators; so the heating man has tried to hide them as much as he could. There isn't one in the house that stands out like a monument of pipes," declared Dorothy.

"Even in the attic?"

"Not even in the attic. See, he's covered most of them with grilles bronzed or painted like the wood-work of the room, so they aren't at all conspicuous."

"It's these little points that make this house so attractive," declared Helen. "Aunt Louise has thought of everything."

"What are you going to wear at the party?" asked Ethel Blue of Dorothy.

"If we do that Columbus thing--" began Dorothy, looking at Helen.

"Go on," the president of the U. S. C. replied to the inquiring gaze; "we might as well tell Roger now as later."

"If we have the tableaux and pantomimes we can stay in our court dresses."

"Court dresses?" inquired Roger, sitting up interestedly. "Why so scrumptious?"

"Columbus at the court of Ferdinand and Isabella," answered Helen.

"You as Columbus."

"Me? Me? Why this honor?" asked Roger meekly.

"Need you ask?" returned Helen. "That's in reply to your remarks about me as an addition to the foreground of your photographs."

"Even. I don't care what I do as long as I have time to get it up."

"You shall have plenty of time," promised Dorothy. "What I'm more interested in just now is what we're to have to eat on the festive night."

"Is Aunt Louise going to let us decide?"

"Subject to her veto, I suspect," smiled Helen.

Dorothy nodded.

"She says she wants something different from ice-cream and cake and chicken salad."

They all laughed, for Rosemont was noted for invariably having these three excellent but monotonous viands at all her teas and receptions and church entertainments.

"I move we have cold turkey," said Roger.

"It's rather early for turks, but we can have capon if we can't find a good turkey," replied Ethel Brown, who kept the run of the Rosemont market.

"Let's have little birds in aspic jelly," suggested Dorothy.

They all gurgled with pleasure at this idea.

"Squabs," went on Dorothy as her imagination began to work.

"Um," commented Roger, his eyes shut.

"Split them down the back, dip them into beaten egg and melted butter, sprinkle them with the finest bread crumbs and broil them."

"O," came a gentle murmur from Roger, who was deeply affected by the recital of this appetizing dish. "Where's the aspic?"

"You cut each squab in halves and put one-half in a mold and then you pour on the aspic."

"Dorothy, you talk as if you'd been doing birds in aspic all your life. Did you ever cook them?"

"Once," dimpled Dorothy. "At cooking school."

"I know how to make aspic," declared Ethel Brown proudly.

"Let's have it."

"Soak a quarter of an ounce of vegetable gelatine in a pint of water for two hours; then add the strained juice of a lemon, pepper and salt and cayenne, two tablespoonfuls of Tarragon vinegar and another pint of water. Let it cook for a few minutes over a slow fire and then boil it for two or three minutes and strain it through a jelly bag over your birdies."

"O, you can't do that that way," cried Ethel Blue. "Their elbows will show through when they're turned out of their molds. You have to put in a layer of jelly and when it is stiffened a little put in your bird, and then pour the rest of the jelly over it."

"Correct," approved Dorothy. "We must be sure to have enough for each person to have a half bird in a mold. They are turned out at the last minute and a sprig of parsley is laid on top of each one."

"Help! Help!" came a faint cry from Roger. "I am swooning with joy at the sound of this delicious food. I'm so glad Aunt Louise is giving this party and not one of the chicken salad ladies of Rosemont."

"Aspic is good to know about for hot weather use," said Ethel Blue. "I've been meaning all summer to tell Della how to make it--she feels the heat so awfully."

"You can put all sorts of meats in it, I suppose."

"And vegetables; peas and beets and carrots very tender and cut very fine. Tomato jelly makes a good salad, too."

"You could make pretty little individual molds of that."

"What are we going to have for salad after these birds?" inquired Roger.

"Let's have alligator pear salad. It's as easy as fiddle. You just have to pare the alligators and take out their cores--"

"With a butcher's knife?" inquired Roger.

"--and cut them in halves lengthwise. Then you put the pieces on a pale yellow-green lettuce leaf, and pour French dressing over it, and there you are!"

"I like it all except the name," objected Roger.

"Christen it something else, and be happy," urged Helen.

"What for sweeties?" Roger demanded. "I'm going through this feast systematically."

"Don't go on to the sweeties until we've settled on the bread, then," insisted Ethel Brown, "I say Parker House rolls."

"Or pocket book rolls--the same thing, only smaller," said Ethel Blue.

"I haven't made any since we were at Chautauqua; I shall have to look them up again," confessed Dorothy.

"I remember," said Ethel Brown. "You scald two cups of milk and then put into it three tablespoonfuls of butter, two teaspoonfuls of sugar and a teaspoonful and a half of salt. When it has cooled off a little add a dissolved yeast cake and three cups of flour and beat it like everything."

"Command me on the day of the party," offered Roger politely.

"We will," giggled the girls, and they said it so earnestly that Roger gazed at them suspiciously.

"Cover it up and let it rise; then cut it through and through and knead in two and a half cups more flour. Let it rise again. Put it on a floured board, knead it, and roll it out to half an inch in thickness. Then cut out the rolls with a floured biscuit cutter. Brush one-half of each roll with melted butter and fold the round in halves."

"Won't they slide open?"

"Not if you pinch the edges together. Arrange them in your pan and cover them over so they can rise in comfort. Then bake them in a hot oven for from twelve to fifteen minutes," ended Ethel Brown.

"They aren't as easy as Della's lightning biscuits, but they're so good when they're done that you don't mind having taken the trouble about them."

"Now for the sweeties," insisted Roger. "I'm afraid you'll forget them and my tooth is as sweet as ever it was."

"Are frozen things absolutely forbidden?" inquired Dorothy.

"O, no, let's have one frozen thing. We're going to have some of the Rosemont people who aren't relatives, you know, and I hate to think of what they'd say about Aunt Louise if she didn't give them something frozen!" laughed Helen.

"Let's have frozen peaches, then. Make them in the proportion of two quarts of peaches to two cups of sugar, a quart of water, and the juice of a lemon and a half. You peel the peaches and take out the stones and rub the fruit through a colander. Put the peach pulp and the lemon juice into a syrup made by boiling the sugar and water together for five minutes and letting it cool. Pour it all into the freezer and grind it until it is firm."

"Command me," murmured Roger again.

"Poor old Roger! You shan't be worked to death! Patrick will do the grinding."

"For small mercies I'm thankful," returned Roger, a beaming smile breaking over his face.

"I speak for chopped preserved ginger with whipped cream, served in those lovely ramequins of Aunt Louise's," cried Ethel Blue.

"Why can't we have maple marguerites to go with everything?"

"New to me, but let's have 'em," urged Roger.

"Boil together a cup and a half of brown sugar and a half a cup of water until it makes a soft ball when it's dropped into cold water. Let it cool for a few minutes and then put in half a teaspoonful of maple flavoring and beat it all together. Have ready a quarter of a cup of finely chopped nut meats. Add half of this amount and drop this perfectly _dee_-licious stuff on to crackers. While it's still warm enough to be sticky sprinkle over the crackers the remainder of the nut meats."

"I'll grind the nut meats," offered Roger.

"And ask for heavy pay in marguerites!" laughed Ethel Brown.

"I scorn your aspersions of my character," returned her brother solemnly. "What are you going to have to drink?"

"Coffee--grape-juice--lemonade--the usual things."

"I think that's a pretty good list. Write it down and let's see what Aunt Louise thinks of it," recommended Helen.