A House Party with the Tucker Twins Part 20

"Thank goodness, I don't. He and I talk sense to each other," and Dee scornfully sniffed the air. She and Dum hated the odor of cocoa b.u.t.ter, declaring it made their room smell like an apothecary's shop.

"Why don't you and Dum come in our room for to-night?" I suggested, scenting mischief as well as cocoa b.u.t.ter in the air, since the usually tactful Dee was on the war-path. "You will be sure to disturb Jessie in the morning if you sleep in here. Come on! I'll sleep three in the bed with you and get in the middle at that," and so they came, expressing themselves privately as glad to get away from their roommate, who did smell so of cocoa b.u.t.ter and also looked so hideous with her hair done up in those tick-like arrangements and her face s.h.i.+ny with grease.

"Cat! What does she mean by calling Wink a flirt?" raged Dee, who was surely a loyal friend.

"Maybe he is one," suggested Dum.

"Virginia Tucker, I am tired unto death but I'll challenge you to a boxing match if you say that again."

"You are no more tired than I am and I'll say it again!" maintained Dum.

"All I said was: 'Maybe he is,' and maybe he is!" No one of the name of Tucker ever took a dare, and the twins crawled out of the great bed where I had taken my place in the middle.

"Girls! Girls! You are so silly," I cried wearily. "You haven't your boxing gloves and you know you might beat each other up with your bare fists. This is no fighting matter, Dee, at least nothing to fight Dum about. Go fight Jessie Wilc.o.x! She is the one who has the proof of Wink's ways."

We were relieved that my reasoning powers quelled the disturbance.

Tweedles got back into bed. The twins very rarely resorted to trial by combat now. It had been their childish method of settling difficulties, as their father had brought them up like boys whose code of honor is to stop fussing and fight it out.

"I can't see why you think it is such an awful thing to call Wink a flirt," I said, when all danger of a battle had subsided. "You certainly flirt sometimes yourself."

"When?" indignantly.

"When you sell coffins to healthy young farmers," I a.s.serted.

No more from Dee that night.

We were up early the next morning to escort Annie home, so early that no one was stirring, not even the servants. It seemed ridiculous for her to go so early, but the message from her father was one not to be lightly ignored. She had told Miss Maria and the general good-by the night before and Harvie was to drive her home, but when we crept downstairs there was no Harvie to be found; so we made our way out to the stable where Mary and I hitched up. As we drove off, all five of us crowded into a one-seated buggy, we beheld a very sleepy Harvie waving frantically from the boys' wing and vainly entreating us to wait; but we weren't waiting for sleepy-heads that morning, and drove pitilessly away.

There was an air of bustling in the store when we piled out of our small buggy. Mr. Pore was in his s.h.i.+rt sleeves, his gla.s.ses set at a rakish angle on his aristocratic nose and an unaccustomed flush on his usually pale countenance. He was busy pulling things off of the shelves and piling them up on the counters. The clerk (he called him a "clark," of course, after the manner of Englishmen), was just as busy.

To my amazement I heard Mr. Pore say to a little boy who had been sent to the store on a hurry call for matches: "Haven't time to wait on you; go over to Blinker's."

What did this mean? Actually sending customers to the rival store!

"Father!" exclaimed Annie, as Mr. Pore gave her his usual pecky kiss. "I didn't know you were going to take stock to-day."

"Neither did I, my dear." His tone was a bit softer than I had ever heard it. And "my dear"! I had never heard him call Annie that before.

"What is it, Father?"

"I have news from England."

"Not bad news, I hope!"

"Well, yes! I might call it bad news."

"Oh, Father, I am so sorry!"

"Ahem! My brother, the late baronet, is--er--no more."

"You mean Uncle Isaac is dead?"

"Yes!"

"What was the matter? When did you hear?"

"A cablegram states he was killed in a recent battle," and Mr. Pore went on making neat piles on the counter with cans of salmon. I wanted to shake him for more news that I felt sure he had.

Annie took off her hat and tied on an ap.r.o.n ready to help in the arduous task of taking stock. Tweedles and Mary and I stood in the doorway as dumb as fish. Why should a man whose brother had recently died in England feel a necessity of taking stock in a country store? It was too much for us. Suddenly it flashed through my brain that maybe Mr. Pore was going to England. His brother, Sir Isaac Pore, had a son, so Annie had told me, who was, of course, in line for the t.i.tle.

Mr. Pore finished with the salmon and then spoke with his usual pomposity: "The message also states that my brother's only son has met with an untimely death in the Dardanelles."

Annie dropped a box of soap and stood looking with big eyes at her father.

"I find it necessary that we go to England, and before we go, I deem it advisable to make an inventory of our goods and chattels."

"Go to England! When?" gasped Annie.

"I fancy we can arrange to be off in about a week."

This was news that touched all of us. Annie going to England! We might never see her again, and her dried-up old father was standing there announcing this fact with as much composure as though he had decided to move his store across the road or do something else equally ordinary.

"You see," he continued with his grandiloquent manner, "the demise of my brother and his son, who is unmarried, advance me to the baronetcy, and----"

"Then you are Sir Arthur Ponsonby Pore!" blurted out Dum.

"Exactly!" he announced calmly, as though he had been inheriting t.i.tles all his life.

"Is Annie Lady Anna then?" asked Mary.

"No, she is still Miss Pore. Only a son inherits a t.i.tle from a baronet," he said with a trace of bitterness. I remembered what Annie had told me of her brother's death and her father's resentment of her being a girl.

"Well, she would make a lovely Lady Annie all the same," said Dee. "I bet everybody in England will just about go crazy about her."

"Ah, indeed!" was his supercilious remark to this effusion.

"We are going to come down and help you, Annie," I whispered. "I know there are lots of things we can do. You will need help about your clothes. I can't sew, but I can count clothes-pins and chewing-gum while you sew. Don't you want us to help, Mr. Pore?"

That gentleman was as usual quite dumbfounded by being treated like an ordinary human being, and with some hemming and hawing he finally acknowledged that our a.s.sistance would be acceptable. His idea was to sell his business and stock to the highest bidder.

Great was the consternation and surprise at Maxton when we announced the choice bit of news that we had picked up that morning before breakfast.

Sleepy looked as though he might have apoplexy, his face got so red and his hand trembled so. Harvie got pale and suddenly realized that Annie was not just a little sister. Poor Rags put maple syrup in his coffee and cream on his waffle in the excitement occasioned by the unwelcome news.

They were at breakfast when we burst in on them, at breakfast and rather sore with all of us for having run off without them. Jessie was holding the fort alone, the only female present, as Miss Maria was still unable to get up. That beautiful young lady was looking lovelier than ever in a crisp handkerchief-linen frock. Her curls were very curly and her lovely brunette complexion not at all the worse for the scorching sun of the day before. My poor nose had six more freckles than when I came to Maxton, six more by actual count, and there was not room for the extra ones at all. Mary's freckles were like the stars in the sky, every time you looked you could find another; Dee had her share, too; and Dum had begun to peel as was her habit. Jessie was pretty, very pretty, but the picture of her with her face all greased up and the tick-like curlers covering her head would arise whenever I looked at her.

"Why doesn't Mr. Pore leave Annie here with us until the submarine warfare is over with?" asked Mr. Tucker.

"We never thought of suggesting it," tweedled the twins.