Tabitha's Vacation Part 29

"Didn't you hear the whistle blow?"

"Sure, but I supposed it was to tell the islanders that we were coming.

Doesn't it always whistle?"

"Yes, but not like it did just now. That's the way they have of letting the folks at Avalon know when there is a recently married couple on board. Then the men are ready and waiting at the dock with a wheelbarrow."

"A wheelbarrow! What on earth do they want of a wheelbarrow?" demanded both girls at once.

"Just for fun. They cart the groom all around the island in it and make a fearful racket. Regular chivari."

"How mean!" cried Gloriana compa.s.sionately.

"Oh, it's fun," Myra declared. "They like it. I believe an Avalon citizen who didn't get treated that way would feel insulted, really.

Here we are at the landing, and there is the wheelbarrow brigade. It's Murphy, the ice-man, who got married this time. See, he's as proud as a peac.o.c.k at the prospect."

"Yes, but look at the poor little bride," said Gloriana indignantly.

"She is scared stiff."

"Bet she's game," replied Myra, after a quick scrutiny of the little, shrinking woman, clinging to the arm of the big, burly Irishman, as they stepped briskly down the gangplank.

"Do they put her in the wheelbarrow, too?" cried Tabitha in amazement.

"Oh, dear, no----"

"They will this one," said the bride with startling suddenness, having chanced to overhear both question and answer. "If they cart my Pat around town in that kind of a rig, they cart me, too." And to the delight and amus.e.m.e.nt of the crowd gathered to greet the _Cabrillo's_ pa.s.sengers, the little lady tucked herself in the barrow beside her husband and was trundled away by the surprised citizens, who had never wheeled just such a cargo before.

"'Here comes the bride'," a voice began to sing; the crowd took it up, and amid a shower of bright-colored confetti, the plucky bride disappeared down the street still seated beside her smiling Pat.

So intent was Tabitha in watching the queer procession that she had not noticed the quiet approach of a bevy of happy-faced girls; but now, as she turned toward Myra with the remark, "She's clear grit. I'd choose a wife like that if I were a man," she found the laughing eyes of Grace Tilton staring at her, and before she could find her tongue to voice her surprise, Gwynne's regal head bobbed through the crowd toward her.

Jessie and Julia, Vera and Kate, all her particular friends at Ivy Hall, seemed to spring up around her, and although half expecting to find them there, she stood transfixed with amazement, silently regarding them one by one, while they in silence stared back at her.

Then the circle parted, and among the familiar faces of her schoolmates appeared another, which dimpled and smiled and nodded engagingly, and Tabitha awoke with a start.

"Carrie Carson!" she cried, and ran straight into the outstretched arms of the golden-haired girl.

"Kitty, my puss!" whispered Carrie, cuddling the black head dropped on her shoulder; and the other girls thoughtfully turned away to watch the sea-gulls careening about the mastheads of the big _Cabrillo_.

But after a moment, that sweet, familiar voice spoke again, and turning back, the Ivy Hall girls saw Carrie stretching out her hands to timid Gloriana, as she said, "So this is my other sister, my Gloriana! It seems as if I had always known you. We are going to have great times at Ivy Hall this year. Come on, girls, the gla.s.s bottom boat is to take us to the Marine Gardens right after dinner, and we'll have to hurry, or be late."

Myra turned to Tabitha with a comical grimace, and said, "What did I tell you? Hurry's the word."

Then a babel of voices broke loose, all laughing and talking at once, and in triumph Tabitha and Gloriana were escorted to Ivy Hall Camp.

CHAPTER XV

MYRA'S CLIMAX

"Well, vacation is over, and we had just begun having a good time,"

sighed Tabitha mournfully, drawing back the curtains and peering out of the window that September morning into the gray fog of early dawn. "It doesn't seem possible that we are back in Los Angeles again. I 'most wish we had stayed at Catalina for this last day."

The Catalina campers, after a delightful two weeks' outing on the Island, had returned to mainland the day before; but as Ivy Hall had not yet opened its doors to its pupils, and most of the girls lived in neighboring towns, Myra Haskell had invited them to spend the night with her at her aunt's house. The aunt, Mrs. c.u.mmings, was herself away on a brief vacation, but had given her harum-scarum niece permission to take possession of her pretty bungalow for the two nights the party would be in Los Angeles before school commenced. So, as the gray day dawned, it found a dozen mummy-like figures stretched about the floor of the great living-room, wrapped in blankets and quilts, and snoring blissfully.

This was the audience which Tabitha addressed, but she did not realize that she had spoken her thoughts aloud, and was startled when Myra, without opening her eyes, grunted, "Huh! You'll sing another tune before night. This is to be _the_ gala day of your life. You will never forget it. When Dad starts out to do a thing, he never stops half way. The only trouble is to get him started."

"I didn't mean to grumble, truly," cried Tabitha, dismayed at having had her ungracious complaint overheard by her young hostess. "It is just grand of your family to invite all of us out to your ranch for the day, but I believe it's going to rain. It certainly looks like it.

You could cut the fog with a knife."

"Whist! my young friend," murmured Gwynne, wakened from her slumbers by the sound of voices in the room. "Don't be so pessimistic. Don't you know it never rains in California? At least not in the summer time."

For from the opposite corner of the room someone had sleepily murmured, "What about the ostriches?" and the whole company laughed reminiscently, recalling that Thanksgiving night when the storm had frightened the ostriches at the Park until they broke loose and created a panic among the returning theatre-goers.

"Who said rain?" demanded Grace, lifting a tousled head from the pillow to survey the hilarious group scattered about the floor of the s.p.a.cious room.

"Go back to sleep,--you dreamed it!" teased Bessie, who had begun to slip on her clothes. "'Twas snow we were talking about. Feels like it, anyway."

"It _is_ pretty chilly," admitted Tabitha, s.h.i.+vering under the thin folds of her borrowed dressing-gown, as she turned away from the window and prepared to follow Bessie's example. "Wake up, thou sluggards, 'tis time you were dressed. Remember we have a long and arduous day ahead of us."

"Kitty must be tired," said Julia in mock sympathy, crawling out of her warm nest and jerking the blanket off her nearest neighbor with ruthless hand. "Is that it, Kitty? First you want it to rain, and then when you can't make it do that, you begin to moan about the length of the day before us."

"All wrong," Vera spoke up suddenly. "She is merely thinking of that dear, cross-eyed boatman at Avalon. You know he promised to give us a free ride to the Marine Gardens this morning, and here we all came away and dragged Tabitha with us. Shame on us! What could we be thinking about!"

Tabitha wisely joined in the laugh which followed this sally, and sent a pillow flying after her tormentor, who had made a wild dash for the hall. "No, sir, I'm not bemoaning my fate," she vigorously denied, with her mouth full of pins. "I know we shall have a splendid time at the ranch. Only it seems as if vacation had only just begun, instead of being nearly ended; and the day looks so cloudy and gray that it doesn't seem like a fitting climax for our lovely two weeks at Catalina."

"It is too bad that you got cheated out of all the fun this summer,"

Myra sympathized heartily. "But just you wait until the day is done before you say it is not a fitting climax-- Gracious Caesar! Here's one of the autos already! Surely they can't be coming so soon! What time is it, anyway?"

"Half-past six," Gloriana answered, glancing at an open watch that lay on the library table.

"Half-past nothing!" cried Vera, tumbling hastily into the room with her eyes as big as saucers. "It is almost eight o'clock!"

"You are joking!" cried the rest of the group in wild alarm.

"Am not! True as you're alive, the kitchen clock says a quarter of eight o'clock."

"Oho!" murmured Myra guilty. "I--I--really, I forgot----"

"Forgot what?" they demanded, as she doubled up and shrieked with laughter.

"I--I must have set all the watches in the crowd behind time," she managed to explain at length.

"When?"

"Last night."

"What for?"

"Just a joke."