CHAPTER VII

UNEXPECTED GENIUSES FOUND AT HAPPY HILLS

Uncle Ben sat up with Flutey a long time that night, after he entered the house, and when the two parted to go to bed, it had been decided to experiment as Uncle Ben planned.

The following morning the Blue Birds and Bobolinks heard Uncle Ben telephoning long-distance to New York. Having secured the number he wanted, he talked for a long time over the wire.

“Whew! That call will cost Uncle Ben a lot of money,” ventured Don, who was curious to know what it was all about.

“It will be money well invested if the returns are such as we look for,” returned Flutey, smiling but not offering to inform anyone of the cause.

“Well, Aunt Selina, it’s arranged! She’s coming down with Richards this afternoon. I’m so glad I could reach her,” said Uncle Ben, entering the breakfast room.

“And Mr. Richards said he would bring down that music teacher who used to direct the band,” added Miss Selina.

“We’ll have quite an opera company as well as an orchestra at Happy Hills,” laughed Uncle Ben, highly pleased at something.

“I guess I’ll stay at Happy Hills the rest of the Summer, Uncle Ben, and help play the drum,” now ventured Don.

“Pooh! A lot you’d play! You’d only _beat_ it!” exclaimed Dot, for she knew there would be no place for her in the band.

“He’ll _beat_ it from here, all right, when we go home again,” laughed Jinks.

“As soon as I finish my breakfast, I’m going over to the camp and make a tour of each Nest. I have important information to secure before noon. What do you boys and girls propose doing?” now asked Uncle Ben.

“Can’t we go with you?”

“You can go to the camp but not with me on my tour of inspection. You must amuse yourselves this morning.”

“All right! We’ll go and help the Street Cleaning Department,” offered Don.

“And we girls can watch the Health Board work. I think it must be great fun to see those girls teach the younger ones how to clean their teeth and chew their food!” giggled Ruth.

Immediately after the morning meal had ended, Miss Selina ordered Jackson to bring her wheelchair out and she sat in it, ready to start.

Flutey was no longer troubled with rheumatism, so it was not that she _had_ to use the chair, but Happy Hills was at least a half mile from the house so that a walk there and back, besides the walking about the camp, or going in and out of the Nests, was too fatiguing for a lady long past seventy years.

“We’ll push the chair, Jackson, as we want to be with Aunt Selina,” said Ruth, as the manservant waited.

“All right, Jackson. You may attend to other duties,” added Flutey, smiling.

Uncle Ben had gone, carrying his important secret with him, but once the Blue Birds and Bobolinks were on their way to camp, they forgot about his desertion of them.

Uncle Ben reached Miss Martin’s Nest and engaged her in conversation over his secret. She was as eager as he, and soon they had decided upon what was best to do.

“Maggie, I am going to have a little talk with you, to tell you how much I liked your singing last night,” said Uncle Ben, walking up the steps of Maggie’s Nest.

The little girl was sweeping up the floor of the Nest as her visitor spoke, and quickly looking up, she smiled at him.

“I’ve decided to find someone to take the care of the children entirely from your hands during the day, Maggie, and Miss Martin says she can easily manage them as well as those she now has charge of.”

“What fur?” wondered Maggie.

“To give you plenty of time to sing.”

“Sing! Me--sing all day?” cried Maggie, amazed.

“Sing when you like and as often, but at certain times of each day you must sing and practice just the way the teacher wants you to.”

“What teacher--have we a singin’ teacher here?” gasped Maggie.

“We intend having one, and she is coming down today to start those pupils who really have good voices. I think you have a good voice but she can judge better than I. If she says you can sing, will you promise to practice?”

“Oh, Mister Uncle Ben,--_will I_?” came from Maggie in a trembling whisper.

“Den maybe I kin sing like dose angels in Fift Avenoo churches, hey?” added Maggie after a moment’s thought.

“Just like them, I hope--may be sweeter than they sing!”

“Oh no, Mister Uncle Ben! Never could a poor kid like me sing better’n ’em!”

“But you wouldn’t be poor if you had a fine voice,” ventured Uncle Ben, carefully watching his protégé.

Maggie’s eyes opened wider and wider as this astounding statement dawned upon her mind, and finally she dropped upon the floor beside the broom.

“Dat’s so--I coul’ buy de children all dey need an’ git some nice clo’es fer myself wid what was left!” sighed she, the tears of joy coming to her eyes.

Uncle Ben now felt sure he had read the girl aright. Her first thought had been of the little sisters and brothers who had never had what was necessary--she came last--if anything was left!

“Well, Maggie, I’m going to give you a new name for the singing teacher to use. You must always be ‘Margaret’ henceforth, and see to it, that everyone is corrected should they call you ‘Maggie.’ Tell them it was my order that you be called ‘Margaret.’”

“Oh, you’se sure kin read my wishes, Mister Uncle Ben! _How_ I always hated that ‘Maggie’ widdout any soft music in its sayin’! But Margaret is differunt! It’s low and smooth!”

Even in this degree was the girl’s sense of harmony so finely attuned that she rebelled at hearing herself called by an inharmonious sound.

The teacher arrived with Mr. Richards and the music master on the one o’clock train, and the car soon carried them to Miss Selina’s country estate. A group of merry children met them on the steps of the veranda, and after a noisy time at luncheon, all started for the camp.

Uncle Ben had gone over the camp-ground that morning and made a list of names of those Little Citizens who showed any desire for music--to join the band or chorus at Happy Hills.

Mr. Richards had personally attended to the order of securing instruments made especially for half-grown young folks, and these bulky boxes had been shipped by special delivery to the train at the Pennsylvania railroad station that morning. They arrived at Happy Hills on the same train with the teachers.

Great was the confusion that afternoon as many of the Little Citizens tried to blow a cornet, bass horn or beat a drum. And such a squeaking and squealing as issued from many throats when the singing was tried out by the teacher!

Margaret had insisted all that morning on being called Margaret instead of Maggie, and her head was held up an inch higher with the sense of her promotion to a harmonious name.

She had allowed other girls and boys to precede her in the testing of their voices, and now she came last. Uncle Ben waited anxiously for this moment, and when she stood up beside the piano and did as the others had done, singing “Ah, eh, oh, ooh” for the teacher, he listened carefully.

“Now sing this: and close your eyes to keep out all sight of things outside your mental vision of song,” advised the teacher, as she sang the queer sounds she wished the little girl to try.

Margaret did them, and the lady had her try others, until the girl laughed: “I kin sing songs better’n ’em funny noises!”

“Can you? Well then let me hear you sing ‘The Song of Love’ that I see printed on that chart,” replied the teacher.

Margaret sang it with her natural childish voice and in spite of having never had any idea of music other than that which inspired her soul, the true placing of her voice and the volume in the tones so pleased the teacher and music master that both exclaimed:

“Mr. Talmage, I am sure we have a wonder here! If she will show the same ambition to learn properly as she does to sing naturally, we will be amply rewarded.”

The training of Margaret began that summer, and so careful was the teacher because of the girl’s youth and refined mentality, that the course seemed to include everything except singing lessons.

Margaret was taught to walk and stand properly, and when seated or lying down, to keep her body from sagging. She was given breathing exercises daily, and taught to masticate her food thoroughly. She was shown how to speak with a sweet, low voice, and to enunciate her vowels carefully, always listening for a harsh note or discordant sound in her speech.

Easy, simple songs were permitted the girl, but the majority of her exercises were “Ohs and Ahs,” until she felt that singing was not quite so easy to master as she had thought. But she persevered, and when her growth was attained and her voice matured with the years, Margaret became one of the most sought-after of all soprano church soloists!

Other voices were found at Happy Hills, but none so marvelous as Little Mother Maggie’s. A strong tenor developed from a boy’s high singing voice; and a contralto emerged from a Russian peasant child’s low-pitched voice. Both became well-known public soloists and some others who were trained that summer found success in chorus and choir work, later in life.

The band was the greatest source of attraction for the boys, however. The music master began instructions with ten pupils, each of whom, having had some teaching at school, could read notes. At first, the blare of instruments sounding from those young, hearty lungs, caused the audience to muffle their ears. As Uncle Ben remarked:

“Seems to me, a barnyard is on a strike!”

Everyone laughed and the master said: “Once more, now boys; and show Mr. Talmage how hens cackle, roosters crow, cows moo-oo, donkeys bray, and horses neigh--all together!”

And the blast that resulted made Uncle Ben run away!

But harmony came from this chaos as the boys practiced faithfully day after day, and before the band leader returned to New York he felt encouraged to keep up the class through the winter months. Uncle Ben hired an assembly room on the East Side and other boys joined the band, each one eager enough to buy his own instrument. Before the following spring, a band of forty boys could play quite well!

So much for the musical talent at Happy Hills!

A few days following the advent of the music teachers, Miss Martin called Uncle Ben’s attention to little Nelly Finn.

“Have you seen the child use pencil and paper?” asked Miss Martin.

“No. But don’t tell me we have a born artist among us,” laughed Uncle Ben.

“Really, Mr. Talmage, I think we have a designer with unusual talent,” replied Miss Martin, anxiously.

“Designer! Why the child has never been outside of a dirty tenement room. Being crippled, you know, she could not run about as other children do. Where could she see anything to inspire her brain to design?”

“Wasn’t Beethoven stone deaf? And didn’t he compose the sweetest music and most perfect symphonies without ever having heard the sound of them--other than in his own thoughts! That, as well as other wonders, proves that it is not from without that we find inspiration and true talent. It is solely from within, and one whose mind is seeking for the beautiful and eternal will find it there, whether it be music, verse, form, or color,” said Miss Martin.

“You’re a philosopher, Miss Martin, and a true one, at that,” said Uncle Ben, highly pleased at his companion’s reply to his doubts.

“So you see, Mr. Talmage, Nelly Finn may be a great designer in mind, and the fact that she does not lose her artistic ideas of what she sees and feels in her thoughts, by coarse contact with the outside world, leaves her original and expressive.”

“Well, show me some of the sketches you seem to think are so marvelous,” said Uncle Ben.

As is generally the case, those who come to laugh go away to wonder, and it was so with Uncle Ben. The moment he saw the lead-pencil lines crudely drawn on yellow manila wrapping paper, he detected the talent displayed. He took several of these samples with him to show Mr. Richards.

“What do you think of this work, Richards?”

“Where did you get them?” asked the newspaper man instantly interested.

“Oh, one of our Little Citizens is an expert artist, I find,” laughed Uncle Ben.

“Why, Talmage, this is quite clever! Do you know, we must change the name of our campers? They are not Little Citizens. They are Little Wonders! Now tell me truly, where did you get these sketches?”

“One of Miss Martin’s Nestlings, Richards. No less than puny Nelly Finn,” replied Uncle Ben.

“What! The sister of Micky, our newsboy and boot-black?” cried the astonished newspaper man.

“The same.”

“I can see myself resigning from the paper, Talmage, and giving all my attention to discovering talent at Happy Hills. Then to find teachers for such talent that it may bloom in full beauty,” laughed Mr. Richards, but he was feeling quite serious over Nelly’s development.

“We won’t hide these talents ‘in a napkin’ whatever else we have to do,” added Uncle Ben.

“But Nelly must just play and grow strong this summer, then we will enter her in some class where she will be given all the help she needs without ruining her original ideas. Who knows, Ben, but she may rule the world of fashion with her designs?”

“No one would dare prophesy such a thing to look at the wisp of a child now,” added Uncle Ben.

Nothing was said to Nelly about her gift, for they all agreed it might create other ideas in her mind than those she loved to draw upon paper. But it had been decided that she would be given a good home and a teacher to train her childish ideals to conform with her talent.

“If we keep on digging up any more geniuses at Happy Hills, Flutey, you will have to close your house this winter and take a big place in New York just to prepare a home for your Little Wonders,” teased Mr. Richards, that night after he had told about Nelly’s talent.

“Not such a bad idea, at that!” added Uncle Ben.

“Good gracious, Ben! You don’t mean it--really!” cried Miss Selina, aghast.

“Why not! Richards and I are homeless city waifs, as well as the Little Citizens, so we could live with you and help keep house,” replied Uncle Ben.

“Ben, think of my age! And New York, too!”

“Why should I think of your age now, when you have proven without a doubt that you are only fifty-five or sixty in reality! Years count for nothing when one is as spry as you are,” laughed Mr. Talmage.

“Why Ben Talmage! How you talk! Only last year I was all tied in knots with rheumatism and couldn’t walk!” cried Flutey.

“Oh Flutey, stop trying to make believe you want to be back where I found you!” exclaimed Ruth, indignantly.

The other Blue Birds laughed teasingly at Miss Selina, and she smiled too. “Yes, I suppose the surest way to charm back that rheumatic state is to think of it!” said she.

“Well, it’s just the same with old age! If you keep talking and thinking of it, pretty soon you _are_ old and helpless! And we know you’re _not_--so there!” declared Ruth.

“Didn’t you trot everywhere with the Blue Birds and Bobolinks while you were at Mossy Glen?” demanded Ned, her grand-nephew.

“Yes, but I was visiting and had nothing else to do!”

“Oh, is that it! Well, I’ll tell you what, Flutey! I’ll rent the big house and ask you to visit me all winter. Then you can run about and enjoy the Little Wonders we found at Happy Hills without thinking of your age. If it is your own home that makes you so aged, we will never allow you to return here!” said Uncle Ben.

“You’re all talking a lot of poppy-cock stuff! Flutey has been livelier here at Happy Hills than I ever saw her before,” said Dot Starr, who must have a word in everything.

“Sure! Doesn’t she visit the camp twice a day, and go up and down all the steps to the Nests, to say nothing of going about the Little Farms, and hospital and Refectory. If she can stand that, she can stand a little of New York,” said Don, who felt a great attraction in this sudden idea of a New York Home for Little Wonders!

“Well, we have all summer to plan such an outlandish thing as Uncle Ben just sprang on us, so we will think it over,” said Mr. Richards, who did not think it wise to urge matters further.

“What are we going to do tomorrow, Uncle Ben?” now asked Ned.

“Farmer Jones said he would show us what he does with all the wastage from camp that the Street Cleaning Department wheels to the dump each day,” said Jinks.

“That won’t take all morning--only an hour,” added Ned.

“And after that--what do you want to do?” said Uncle Ben.

“I say, let’s give the Little Citizens a picnic. We can all go in installments in the autos to some other woods or lake and have something to eat, then play games and come back,” suggested Don.

“Oh yes, give Don a ride and something good to eat and he is happy!” jeered Meredith.

“I don’t think Don’s idea is so bad, Mete, especially as we can use some of the large farm-wagons filled with straw for the older children. They have not seen any part of the neighborhood as yet, and they ought to have an outing. We can finish all chores at camp and see that the little farms are all right for the day, and then leave Happy Hills about eleven; have a picnic luncheon somewhere and return about five,” said Uncle Ben.

“Where could we go?” asked several of the Blue Birds and Bobolinks.

“There is a beautiful lake nestling among the hills not ten miles from here,” suggested Aunt Selina. “It is used by anyone giving a picnic, and is considered free to the public, although the vast extent of woods is owned by a Philadelphia man.”

“If it is commonly used by the public, it will be just the spot. No harm will be done by going there,” said Mr. Richards.

“If we are going on a picnic tomorrow, we must plan all sorts of goodies to eat,” ventured Don, anxiously.

“Why not take what we might have at the Refectory--cook it in the woods, that’s all the difference,” said Uncle Ben.

“What’s a picnic without cake and ice-cream!” scorned Dot.

“I’ll see that the ice-cream gets there safely if Don and Dot will turn the freezers,” laughed Ned.

“We have a great freezer at the camp which is turned by electric power, so that need not worry you longer, Don,” said Flutey consolingly.

So it was decided to have a picnic the following day, and Miss Martin was telephoned at once to ask the cook and other help if they could prepare the necessities for the picnic dinner in time.

This was satisfactorily arranged, and everyone went to bed betimes so that they might rise at an early hour and help in various ways to enable all to get away on time for the outing.