Children's Book Classics - Kate Douglas Wiggin Edition: 11 Novels & 120+ Short Stories for Children. Kate Douglas Wiggin

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Children's Book Classics - Kate Douglas Wiggin Edition: 11 Novels & 120+ Short Stories for Children - Kate Douglas Wiggin


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Lovely tea-gowns and silver-backed brushes are all very pretty and nice to have, if they are not gained at the sacrifice of something better. I should have said to my daughter, had I been Mrs. Denton, “We will work for each other, my darling, and try to do whatever God gives us to do; but, no matter how hard life is, your heart is the most precious thing in the world, and you must never sell that, if we part with everything else.” Oh, my girls, my girls, if I could only make you believe that “poor and content is rich, and rich enough.” I cannot bear to think of your growing year by year into the conviction that these pretty glittering things of wealth are the true gold of life which everybody seeks. Forgive me, Laura, if I have hurt your feelings.’

      ‘I know you would never hurt anybody’s feelings, if you could help it, Mrs. Winship,’ Laura answered, with a hint of coldness in her voice, ‘though I can’t help thinking that you are a little hard on poor Jessie; but, even then, one can surely like a person without wishing to do the very same things she does.’

      ‘Yes, that is true,’ said Mrs. Winship, gravely. ‘But one cannot constantly justify a wrong action in another without having one’s own standard unconsciously lowered. What we continually excuse in other people we should be inclined by and by to excuse in ourselves. Let us choose our friends as wisely as possible, and love them dearly, helping them to grow worthier of our love at the same time we are trying to grow worthier of theirs; because “we live by admiration, hope, and love,” you know, but not by admiring and loving the wrong things.

      ‘But there is the horn, and I hear the boys. Let us come to luncheon, and tell our good news of Elsie.’

Music score and words: With incredible energy. The horn! The horn! The lus-ty, lus-ty horn! ’Tis not a thing to laugh to scorn, A thing to laugh to scorn!

      Long before the boys appeared in sight, their voices rang through the cañon in a chorus that woke the echoes, and presently they came into view, bearing two quarters and a saddle of freshly killed mutton, hanging from a leafy branch swung between Jack’s sturdy shoulder and Geoff’s.

      ‘A splendid “still hunt” this morning, Aunt Truth!’ exclaimed Jack. ‘Game plenty and not too shy, dogs in prime condition, hunters ditto. Behold the result!’

      The girls could scarcely tell whether or no Laura was offended at Aunt Truth’s unexpected little lecture. She did not appear quite as unrestrained as usual, but as everybody was engaged in the preparations for Elsie’s welcome there was a general atmosphere of hilarity and confusion, so that no awkwardness was possible.

      The tool-shop resounded with blows of hammer and steel. Dicky was under everybody’s feet, and his ‘seven or ten frogs,’ together with his unrivalled collection of horned toads, were continually escaping from their tin pails and boxes in the various tents, and everybody was obliged to join in the search to recover and re-incarcerate them, in order to keep the peace.

      Hop Yet was making a gold and silver cake, with ‘Elsie’ in pink letters on chocolate frosting. Philip had pitched the new tent so that in one corner there was a slender manzanita-tree which had been cropped for some purpose or other. He had nailed a cross-piece on this, so that it resembled the letter T, and was now laboriously boring holes and fitting in pegs, that Elsie might have a sort of closet behind her bed.

      As for the rustic furniture, the girls and boys declared it to be too beautiful for words. They stood in circles about it and admired it without reserve, each claiming that his own special piece of work was the gem of the collection. The sunlight shining through the grey and green tints of the tent was voted perfection, Philip’s closet a miracle of ingenuity, the green and white straw matting an inspiration.

      The looking-glass had been mounted on a packing-box, and converted by Laura into a dressing-table that rivalled Mrs. Pinkerton’s; for green tarlatan and white mosquito-netting had been so skilfully combined that the traditional mermaid might have been glad to make her toilet there ‘with a comb and a glass in her hand.’ The rest of the green and white gauzy stuff had been looped from the corners of the tent to the centre of the roof-piece, and delicate tendrils of wild clematis climbed here and there as if it were growing, its roots plunged in cunningly hidden bottles of water. Bell had gone about with pieces of awning cloth and green braid, and stitched an elaborate system of pockets on the inside of the tent wherever they would not be too prominent. There were tiny pockets for needle-work, thimbles, and scissors, medium-sized pockets for soap and combs and brushes, bigger pockets for shoes and slippers and stockings, and mammoth pockets for anything else that Elsie might ordain to put in a pocket.

      By four o’clock in the afternoon Margery had used her clever fingers to such purpose that a white silesia flag, worked with the camp name, floated from the tip top of the front entrance to the tent. The ceremony of raising the flag was attended with much enthusiasm, and its accomplishment greeted by a deafening cheer from the entire party.

      ‘Unless one wants Paradise,’ sighed Margery, ‘who wouldn’t be contented with dear Camp Chaparral?’

      ‘Who would live in a house, any way?’ exclaimed Philip. ‘Sniff this air, and look up at that sky!’

      ‘And this is what they call “roughing it,” in Santa Barbara,’ quoth Dr. Winship. ‘Why, you youngsters have made that tent fit for the occupancy of a society belle.’

      ‘Now, let’s organise for reception!’ cried Geoffrey. ‘Assemble, good people! Come over here, Aunt Truth! I will take the chair myself, since I don’t happen to see anybody who would fill it with more dignity.’

      ‘I am going to mount my broncho and go out on the road to meet my beloved family,’ said Jack, sauntering up to the impromptu council-chamber.

      ‘How can you tell when they will arrive?’ asked Mrs. Winship.

      ‘I can make a pretty good guess. They’ll probably start from Tacitas as early as eight or nine o’clock, if Elsie is well. Let’s see: it’s about twenty-five miles, isn’t it, Uncle Doc? Say twenty-three to the place where they turn off the main road. Well, I’ll take a bit of lunch, ride out ten or twelve miles, hitch my horse in the shade, and wait.’

      ‘Very well,’ said Geoffrey. ‘It is not usual for committees to appoint themselves, but as you are a near relative of our distinguished guests we will grant you special consideration and order you to the front. Ladies and gentlemen, passing over the slight informality of the nomination, all in favour of appointing Mr. John Howard Envoy Extraordinary please manifest it by the usual sign.’

      Six persons yelled ‘Ay,’ four raised the right hand, and one stood up.

      ‘There seems to be a slight difference of opinion as to the usual sign. All right.—Contrary minded!’

      ‘No!’ shouted Polly, at the top of her lungs.

      ‘It is a unanimous vote,’ said Geoffrey, crushingly, bringing down his fist as an imaginary gavel with incredible force and dignity. ‘Dr. and Mrs. Winship, will you oblige the Chair by acting as a special Reception Committee?’

      ‘Certainly,’ responded the doctor, smilingly. ‘Will the Chair kindly outline the general policy of the committee?’

      ‘Hm-m-m! Yes, certainly—of course. The Chair suggests that the Reception Committee—well, that they stay at home and—receive the guests,—yes, that will do very nicely. All-in-favour-and-so-forth-it-is-a-vote-and-so-ordered. Secretary will please spread a copy on the minutes.’ Gavel.

      ‘I rise to a point of order,’ said Jack, sagely. ‘There is no secretary and there are no minutes.’

      ‘Mere form,’ said the Chair; ‘sit down; there will be minutes in a minute,—got to do some more things first; that will do, sit down. Will the Misses Burton and Messrs. Burton and Noble kindly act as Committee on Decoration?’

      ‘Where’s the Committee on Music, and Refreshments, and Olympian Games, and all that sort of thing?’ interrupted Polly, who had not the slightest conception of parliamentary etiquette; ‘and why don’t you


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