Chapter 3

"I suppose," said she, dropping her eyes again, "I suppose they don't know much here, mamma,--the families that live here all the time. Some of the boys actually go barefooted."

"So I have observed. A great saving of shoes."

"And they had a school last summer," went on Kyzie, resolutely. "A young girl taught it who boarded where we do. Mr. Templeton said she did it for fun."

"Indeed!"

"But they didn't like her a bit. I could teach as well as she did anyway, mamma, for she just went around the room boxing their ears."

"Is it possible, Katharine?" Mrs. Dunlee was serious enough now. "To box a child's ears is simply brutal!"

"I knew you'd say so, mamma; but that was just what Miss Severance did. Of course I wouldn't touch their ears any more than I would fly!"

Mrs. Dunlee turned now and regarded her daughter attentively.

"But how did you ever happen to take up this sudden fancy for teaching, dear? It's all new to me. What first made you think of it--at your age? Can you tell?"

"Oh, mamma, I've been thinking about it, off and on, for a year. Ever since I was at Willowbrook last summer and heard Grandma Parlin talk about _her_ first school. Why, don't you remember, she was just fourteen, she said, nearly three months younger than I am."

Mrs. Dunlee understood it all now, and said to herself:--

"Dear old Grandma Parlin! Little did she imagine she was filling her great grand-daughter's head with mischievous notions!"

They walked on a short way in silence. "But you must remember, Katharine, that was seventy years ago. Grandma Parlin wouldn't advise a girl of fourteen to do in these days as she did then. Schools are very different now."

"Yes, indeed, mamma, very, very different. Isn't it too bad? I'd like to 'board 'round' the way grandma did, and rap on the window with a ferule, and 'choose sides' and all that! But there's one thing I could do!" exclaimed the little girl, brightening. "I could make the children 'toe the mark'; wouldn't that be fun? I mean stand in a line on a crack in the floor. How grandma would laugh! I'll write her all about it, and send her a photograph, bare feet and all."

In her eagerness Kyzie spoke as if the matter were all arranged and she could almost see the children "toeing the mark."

"Not so fast, my daughter. Remember there are three points to be settled before we can discuss the matter seriously. First, would your papa consent? Second, would your mamma consent? Third, do the people of Castle Cliff want a summer school anyway?"

"Three points? I see, oh, yes," said Kyzie, meekly.

"But now, Katharine, let us walk a little faster and join the others. And not a word more of this to-day."

"What did keep you two so long?" asked Edith, coming to meet them with a bright face. If her happy thoughts had not been dwelling on the zebra cat just presented her by the "knitting-woman," she would have observed at once that mamma and Kyzie had been "talking secrets"; though she might not have suspected that this had anything to do with the vacation school.

"Do hurry along," she added. "I want to show you the funniest sight! I don't believe you've seen Barbara Hale, have you?"

Edith could hardly speak for laughing; and her mother and Kyzie did not wonder when they beheld the figure that little Bab had made of herself, by a new style of dressing her hair. The two little girls were, as I have told you, as different as possible, but had an intense desire to look "just alike"; and when they tried their best the result was very funny.

I will mention here that Lucy "despised" her own hair for not being straight like Bab's, and had often tried to braid it down her back; but as the braid always came out and the ribbon came off, the attempt had been forbidden.

Now, however, as the children had left their city home and come to a place where everybody was "on holiday," the mammas decided that they might have a little more liberty.

Their dresses were off the same piece,--good, strong brown ones; their hats were alike; and, as for their hair, they were allowed to wear it as they pleased "just for this summer."

"We'll look exactly alike up there in the mountains," the little souls had said to each other; and this was perhaps one reason why they had been so overjoyed at the prospect of going.

But to-day, ah! who would have dreamed that sweet little Bab could become such a fright? She had done up her hair the night before on as many as twenty curl-papers. Before starting for the air-castle she had taken out some of the papers and found--not ringlets, but wisps of very unruly hair. It would not curl any more than water will run up hill.

She went to Aunt Lucy in her trouble to seek advice. Aunt Lucy looked her over with great care and then announced:--

"It is perfectly awful! Don't take out any more papers, Bab. Let 'em be, so you can have something to stick the curls on to."

And so it was done. The "curls," as Lucy was pleased to call them, were drawn up and looped and twisted and fastened by hair-pins to the other curls left in the papers. The effect was most surprising. It made Bab's head so much higher than usual that she was as tall now as auntie, and that in itself was a great gain. Besides, this style, as Lucy said, was the "pompy-doo," and very fashionable!

If Bab could have kept her hat on! But she couldn't, and the moment it came off they all cried out:--

"Why-ee, Barbara!" and turned away to laugh.

If Mrs. McQuilken had been there she would have said the child looked "as if she was possessed of the fox."

"The little goosies! Let them enjoy it!" whispered Mrs. Hale to Mrs. Dunlee. "But those topknots will have to come down before the child can go to the dinner-table."

And then both the ladies laughed privately behind a large tree. The mountain air was doing them good, and they often had as merry times together as the young people.

"Hear the boyoes," cried Edith, meaning Jimmy and Nate, who had now reached the air-castle and were shouting with all their might. The children ran, and so indeed did the older ones, for there was an excellent path all the way.

"So that is the air-castle," exclaimed Kyzie, when they were all within sight of it. "It's a real house, built right in the mountain."

She was right. There happened to be a great crack right here in the rocky side of the mountain, and a cunning little house had been tucked into the crack. It was built of small stones. It had two real windows with glass panes, and a real door with a brass knocker, which the children declared was "too cute for anything."

"The house is as strong as a fort," said Uncle James. "Do you observe it is walled all around with stones?"

"Do you know who built it?" asked Aunt Vi; "and why he built it?"

"A rich Mexican named Bandini. He admired the view from the mountain, and I don't blame him, do you? He wanted a nice, quiet place where he could read and write; that was why he came here. He has been here every summer for years."

"Well," said Mr. Dunlee, "if you call this an air-castle I must say it is the most solid one I ever heard of! It doesn't look dreamy at all. Why, an earthquake could hardly shake it."

"The steps that lead up to it are not dreamy either," said Mrs. Dunlee. "Real granite; and there's a large flag up there floating from the evergreen tree."

The "boyoes" had already climbed the steps, and Nate called down to Mrs. Dunlee, "It's the Mexican flag!" But she had known that at a glance. The colors were red, white, and green, and the device was an eagle on a prickly pear with a snake in his mouth.

"I wonder if there's anybody at home," said Nate, and would have lifted the knocker if Jimmy had not said, "Wait for Uncle James."

Jimmy thought as Uncle James was the leader of the expedition he should be the one to do the knocking, or at any rate to tell them when to knock. Nate himself had not thought of this. He was not so refined as Jimmy, either by nature or by training.

Everybody had climbed the steps now. The older people were enjoying the magnificent view; but Bab and Lucy were looking for the two toads who had been seen going up to the castle together, the well toad taking the lame toad's foot in his mouth.

"I wish they were both here," said Uncle James, "for you would like to see them take that little journey."

"And the Mexican who built this air-castle," said Aunt Vi, "is he here this summer?"

"No, he died last spring."

"Died?" echoed little Eddo, who had heard that dying means "going up in the sky." "What made him die, mamma? Didn't he like it down here?"

Then without waiting for a reply he added most tenderly and unexpectedly, "Isn't it nice that _you're_ not dead, mamma?"

"Why do you think that, my son?" she asked, wondering what he would say.

"Oh, _be_-cause I _am_ so glad about it." And at this sweet little speech his mother caught him up in her arms and kissed him. How could she help it?

"Now," said Uncle James, "let us see if we can enter the castle. 'Open locks whoever knocks.' Try it, boys."

Nate lifted the knocker and pounded with a will. There was no answer or sign of life.

"Let's see if this will help us," said Uncle James, taking a key from his vest pocket:--

"For I'm the keeper of the keys, And I do whatever I please."

The key actually fitted the lock, the door opened at once, and they all entered the castle.

"Mr. Templeton lent me the key," explained Mr. Sanford. "He said the castle was as empty as a last year's bird's nest, but I thought we might like to take a look at it."

"We do, oh, we do," said Lucy. "Isn't it queer? Just two rooms and nothing in 'em at all! Oh, Bab, let's you and I bring some dishes up here and keep house! Here's a cupboard right in the wall."

"I guess it's Mother Hubbard's cupboard, it looks bare enough. Just a table in the room and one old chair," exclaimed Edith.

"I'm glad we came in, though," said Kyzie. "Isn't it beautiful to stand in the door and look down, down, and see Castle Cliff right at your feet? And off there a city--Why, what's that noise?"

No one answered. The older people knew the sound: it was that of an angry rattlesnake out of doors shaking his rattle.

Mr. Dunlee said:--

"Stay in the house, please, you ladies, and keep the children here. James and I will go out and attend to this."

He had an alpenstock, Uncle James a cane. The ladies and Mr, Hale and the children watched the two gentlemen from the window,--all but little Eddo, whose mother was playing bo-peep with him to prevent him from looking out. A handsome rattlesnake was winding his way up the mountain in pursuit of a tiny baby rabbit. The little "cotton-tail" was running for the castle as fast as he could, intending to hide in a hole under the door-stone. But he never would have reached the door-stone alive, poor little trembling creature, if Mr. Dunlee and Uncle James had not come up just in time to finish the cruel snake with cane and alpenstock. Bunny got away safe, without even stopping to say, "Thank you." The snake wore seven rattles, of which he was very proud; but Eddo had them next day for a plaything, and made as much noise with them as ever the snake had done; though Eddo never knew where they came from.

It had been a delightful day, and when the friends all met again at table they kept saying, "Didn't we have a good time?"

It was to be noticed that Barbara's "topknots" had disappeared; and I am glad to say that she never wore her lovely hair "pompy-doo" again.

Kyzie's face was alight. In passing the door of her mother's room she had heard her father say, laughing:--

"What, our Katharine? Why, how that would amuse Mr. Templeton!"

Kyzie had hurried away for fear of listening; but now she kept thinking:--

"Papa laughed. He always laughs when he is going to say 'yes.' He'll talk to Mr. Templeton, and I just know I shall have the school Isn't it splendid?"

VI

"GRANDMA GRAYMOUSE"

"Hoopty-Doo!" shouted Jimmy, alighting on the piazza on all fours. "A little girl like that keep school!"

"Well, she is going to," returned Edith, looking up from the picture she was drawing of a cherub in the clouds, "she's going to; and Mr. Templeton says the Castle Cliff people are as pleased as they can be."

"I heard what he said," struck in Nate. "He said they jumped at it like a dolphin at a silver spoon."

"He's always talking about that dolphin and that silver spoon," laughed Edith. "If I knew how a dolphin looks, I'd draw one and give it to him just for fun. But mamma, you don't expect me to go to school to that little girl; now do you?"

"Certainly not, Edith; oh, no."

"Must _I_ go to Grandmother Graymouse?" whined Jimmy, "She's only my sister. And I came up here to play."

"Play all you like, my son. No one will ask you to go school."

"But _I_ really want to go," said Nate. "I wouldn't miss it for anything. A girl's school like that will be larks. Only four hours anyway, two in the forenoon and two in the afternoon. Time enough left for play."

"H'm, if that's all, let's go," cried Jimmy. "We can leave off any time we get tired of it."

Kyzie heard this as she was crossing the hall.

"Why, boys," she said, "you don't live in Castle Cliff! It's the Castle Cliff children I'm going to teach--the little ones, you know."

"But papa said if you'd show me about my arithmetic--" began Nate.

"Perhaps I don't know so much as you do, Nate. But if you go you'll be good, won't you--you and Jimmy both?"

She spoke with some concern. "For if you're naughty, the other boys will think they can be naughty too; and I shan't know what in the world to do with them."

"Oh, we'll sit up as straight as ninepins; we'll show 'em how city boys behave," said Nate, making a bow to Kyzie.

He could be a perfect little gentleman when he chose. He liked to tease Jimmy, younger than himself, but had always been polite to Kyzie. Still Kyzie did not altogether like the thought of having a boy of twelve for a pupil. What if he should laugh at her behind his slate?

Here Barbara and Lucy appeared upon the veranda, holding Edith's new kitty between them.

"We're going. We'll sit together and cut out paper dolls and eat figs under the seat," declared Lucy, never doubting that this would be pleasing news to the young teacher.

Before Kyzie had time to say, "Why, Lucy!" little Eddo ran up the steps to ask in haste:--

"Where's Lucy going? I fink I'll go too."

Kyzie could bear no more. She ran and hid in the hammock and cried. They all thought she was to have a sort of play-school; did they? They were going just for fun. She must talk to mamma. Mamma thought the school was foolish business; but mamma always knew what ought to be done, and how to help do it. Or if mamma ever felt puzzled, there was papa to go to,--papa, who could not possibly make a mistake. Between them they would see that their eldest daughter was treated fairly.

Monday morning came. Kyzie's courage had revived. Eddo would be kept at home; Lucy and Bab had been informed that they were not to cut paper dolls, though they might write on their slates. All that they thought of just now, the dear "little two," was of dressing to "look exactly alike." As Bab had learned once for all that her hair would not curl, she spent half an hour that morning braiding her auntie's ringlets down her back, and tying the cue with a pink ribbon like her own. But for all the little barber could do the flaxen cue would not lie flat. It was an old story, but very provoking.

"Oh dear," wailed Lucy, "'most school-time and my hair is all _over_ my head!"

It did look wild. You could almost fancy it was angry because it had not been allowed to curl after its own graceful fashion.

The "little two" started off in good season, hoping not to be seen by Eddo; but he espied them from the window, and they heard him calling till his baby voice was lost in the distance:--

"You ought to not leave me! You ought to not leave m-e-e!"

"He wants to go everywhere big people go."

"Yes," responded Bab. "Such babies think they are as old as anybody. Oh, see that Mexican dog, how straight his tail stands up!"

"Like your hair," sighed Lucy. "If my hair would only be straight like that!"

And neither of them smiled at this droll remark.

"But there's one thing we must remember, Bab. I'm glad I thought of it. We must say, 'Miss' to Kyzie."

"Miss what?"

"Miss Dunlee. If we forget it, she'll feel dreadfully." And then they began to hum a tune and keep step to the music. They often did this as they walked.

Kyzie had gone on before them. Her father was with her, but she had the key in her hand and opened the schoolhouse door. They walked in together, and Kyzie locked the door behind them, for several children were waiting about who must not enter till the bell rang.

The schoolhouse floor was very clean; the new teacher herself had swept it. On the walls were large wreaths of holly, which had been left over from last Christmas, when the Sunday-school had had a celebration here. At one end of the room was a raised platform with a large desk on it. On the wall over the desk was a motto made of red pepper berries, only the words were so close together that you could not make them out unless you knew beforehand what they were.

"That means, 'Christ is risen,'" explained Kyzie. "It looks dreadfully, but they didn't want it taken down, I'll make another by and by."

There were blackboards on three sides of the room; quite clean they looked now. The desks and benches were rude ones of black oak, and had been hacked by jack-knives. Kyzie regretted this, but supposed the boys had not been taught any better. There was only one chair in the room, a large armed chair for the little teacher, and it stood solemnly on the platform before the desk.

"You see, papa, I've brought a big blank-book to write the names in. The pen and inkstand belong here. Ahem, I begin to tremble," said she, and looked at her mother's watch which she wore in her belt. "It's five minutes of nine."

"Oh, you'll do famously," said Mr. Dunlee. "And now, daughter, I'll wish you good-by and the very best luck in the world."

"Good-by, papa," said Kyzie, and locked the door after him. "I wish I'd asked him to stay till I called them in and took their names. Papa is so dignified that it would have been a great help. My, I feel as if I weren't more than six years old!"

She walked the floor, watch in hand. "Fifty seconds of nine."

She went to the bell-rope and pulled with both hands. It was quite needless to use so much force. The bell was directly over her head; and instead of the "mellow lin-lan-lone" she expected, it made a din so tremendous that it almost seemed as if the roof were about to fall upon her. At the same time there was a scrambling and pounding at the door. The children were trying to get in.

"Oh, miserable me, I've locked them out!" thought the little teacher in dismay.

She hastened to the door and opened it, and they rushed in with a shout. This was an odd beginning; but Kyzie said not a word. She remembered that she was now Miss Dunlee, so she threw back her shoulders and looked her straightest and tallest, and as much as possible like Miss Prince, her favorite teacher. She had intended all along to imitate Miss Prince--whenever she could think of it.

Only fourteen years old! Well, what of that? Grandma Parlin had been only fourteen when she taught _her_ first school. Keep a brave heart, Katharine Dunlee!

Joe Rolfe walked in as stiffly as a wooden soldier. Behind him came a few boys and girls, some of them with their fingers in their mouths. There were twelve in all. The last ones to enter were Nate and Jimmy, followed by Aunt Lucy and her niece arm in arm.

"I wonder if Nate is laughing at me for locking the door?" thought Kyzie, not daring to look at him, as she waved her hands and said in a loud voice to be heard above the noise:--

"All please be seated."

Being seated was a work of time; and what a din it made! The children wandered about, trying one bench after another to see which they liked best.

"You would think they were getting settled for life," whispered Nate to Jimmy.

The "little two" chose a place near the west window and began at once to write on their slates.

"I'm scared of Miss Dunlee," wrote Aunt Lucy.

"Stop making me laugh," replied the niece.

When at last everybody was "settled for life," Kyzie did not know what to do next. "What would Miss Prince do? Why she would read in the Bible. I forgot that."

The new teacher took her stand on the platform behind the desk, opened her Bible, and read aloud the twenty-third Psalm. Her voice shook, partly from fright, partly from trying so hard not to laugh. But she did not even smile--far from it. Nate and Jimmy who were watching her could have told you that. If she had been at a funeral she could hardly have looked more solemn.

Jimmy touched Nate's foot under the bench; Nate gave Jimmy a shove; Bab gazed hard at Lucy's flaxen cue; Lucy gazed straight at her thumb.

After the reading "Miss Dunlee" walked about with her blank-book in one hand and her pen in the other to take down the children's names.

"I'm Joseph Rolfe; don't you remember me?" said the boy with red hair. "And this boy next seat is Chicken Little."

"No, I ain't either, I'm Henry Small," corrected the little fellow, ready to cry.

Kyzie shook her finger at both the boys and resolved that "Joe should stop calling names, and Henry should stop being such a cry-baby."

Annie Farrell was a dear little girl in a blue and white gingham gown, and the new teacher loved her at once. Dorothy Pratt was little more than a baby, and when spoken to she put her apron to her eyes and wanted to go home.

"She can't go home," said her older sister Janey, "mamma's cookin' for company!"

Kyzie patted the baby's tangled hair and sent Janey to get her some water.

"I'll go," spoke up Jack Whiting, aged seven. "Janey isn't big enough. Besides the pail leaks."

"I'm so glad Edith isn't here," thought Kyzie, "or we should both get to giggling. There, it's time now to call them out to read. Let me see, where is the best crack in the floor for them to stand on? Why didn't I bring a quarter of a dollar with a hole in it for a medal? Oh, the medal will be for the spelling-class; that was what Grandma Parlin said."

It seemed a "ling-long" forenoon, and the little teacher rejoiced when eleven o'clock came. The family at home looked at her curiously, and Uncle James asked outright, "Tell us, Grandmother Graymouse, how do the scholars behave?"

"Well, I suppose they behaved as well as they knew how; but oh, it makes me so hungry!"

She could not say whether she liked teaching or not.

"Wait till Friday night, Uncle James, and then I'll tell you."

"Well said, Grandmother Graymouse! You couldn't have made a wiser remark. We'll ask no further questions till Friday night."

But when Friday night came they were all thinking of something else, something quite out of the common; and "Grandmother Graymouse" and her school were forgotten.

VII

THE ZEBRA KITTEN

It began with Zee. By this time her young mistress had become very much attached to her; and so indeed had all the "Dunlee party." Even Mrs. Dunlee petted the kitten and said she was the most graceful creature she had ever seen, except, perhaps, the dancing horse, Thistleblow. Eddo loved her because "she hadn't any pins in her feet" and did not resent his rough handling. The "little two" loved her because she allowed them to play all sorts of games with her. They could make believe she was very ill and tuck her up in bed, and she would swallow meekly such medicine as alum with salt and water without even a mew.

"She is so amiable," said Edith. "And then that wonderful tail of hers, mamma! 'Twould bring, I don't know how much money, at a cat fair. It's a regular _prize_ tail, you see!"