WHEN you will surely send those peaches this afternoon?” said Harry1 to the man, when all was in readiness to turn their faces homeward.
“Surely; and if you don't hurry up they'll get there before you.”
Hurrying was just in Pet's line, and he pricked2 up his ears as though he fully3 understood this last remark. Rex gave him the word and away he flew, almost running against the gatepost in his eagerness to be off from that region of coloured boys and peach stones.
“Which way shall we go?” asked Rex, consulting his little silver watch; “we have plenty of time.”
“Of course we have,” said Nan, “and why shouldn't we stop somewhere when there is an elegant luncheon4 in the bottom of this cart and we have not taken a minute to eat it?”
“Sure enough,” Harry exclaimed, and the children stared at each other with a look of amazement5, wondering how it ever could have happened that they should for a moment have forgotten anything so important.
“I tell you what let's do,” said Rex; “let's go home by the Rumson Road. I know a lovely great tree, where we can rest Pet while we eat the luncheon.”
Harry and Nan fell in with the plan, and Pet, who, with true pony6 instinct, had started the shortest way home, was obliged to right-about-face. There are not many more charming drives than that of the Rumson Road, bordered as it is on one side by beautiful country houses, whose windows command a near view of the river and a distant one of the sea. Luxuriant hedges and evenly trimmed grass-plots line the drive, and here and there a fine old tree throws a grateful shadow athwart the red soil road. Though each of the little trio had been over it many times before, it seemed to-day to wear a new beauty in their eyes, and when they reached a point where it curves gracefully7 and two grand old places confront each other, Nan's enthusiasm found vent8.
“Isn't it just too beautiful for anything?” she exclaimed. “Yes, it is lovely,” Rex answered,—“just like the country far away from the sea, and yet you can see the ocean as plain as day.”
“It is a great pity,” said Nan, “that plants and flowers won't grow as they ought to, close down to the shore.” She was looking at a great bed of flowers in the midst of one of the lawns, and recalling a little company of spindly geraniums, which she had vainly tried to make flourish in her little garden at home, so depressing is the effect of salt sea-fogs and sandy soil upon all growing things. “And there are no trees to speak of near the sea,” she added, with a little sigh, for she dearly loved the green and the shade of the inland country; “nothing but meadows of great coarse grass.”
“You forgot the lawns round the places on the boulevard, Nan,” said Harry.
“Oh, to be sure, but the grass only grows there because they have men to sprinkle and 'tend to it all the time. Papa says he could s'port half-a-dozen little girls like me for what it costs for one of those lawns a single summer.”
“That seems very extravagant,” said Regie, who had quite a business way of looking at matters.
“I think I would like to live back here, where things grow as though they loved it, and not because they are made to,” Nan remarked, thoughtfully.
“Indeed, I know better, Nannie Murray; you love the sea too much to be contented9 away from it a week,” Harry remarked, with brotherly superiority. “Why, mother took you to Grandma Murray's when you were only a scrap10 of a baby, and you cried and fretted11 so she 'was ashamed of you, and had to bring you home. The moment you caught sight of the sea you crowed and clapped your little hands, and behaved like another baby altogether. No, sir-ree, you'd be sick of living back here in a week.”
“Well, perhaps I would,” Nan admitted, for she knew, after all, that no sound was so sweet in her ears as the roar of the breakers on the beach, nor anything that looked quite so beautiful to her as the dear old ocean, whether under a blue sky or a grey one.
By this time they had reached Regie's tree. It stood just at the top of a little descent in the road, and not many yards away from one of the numerous railroad crossings which traverse that part of the country.
Rex was helped out to a comfortable seat under it. Harry took Pet out of the shafts12 and tied him to a rail fence near by, while Nan, a perfect counterpart of her energetic mother, began transferring the luncheon from the basket to the grass, and spreading it out so that it should look as inviting13 as possible.
Then there was silence as far as any continued conversation was concerned for the space of fifteen minutes. There was an occasional “These biscuits are delicious,” or a “Please pass me the sponge cake,” but that was all. A good appetite and plenty to gratify it generally quiets, for the time being, even the most incessant14 of little chatterboxes.
When the luncheon was all disposed of, save a few crumbs,—which, by the way, made a beautiful meal for a family of ants the next day,—Regie threw himself on his back, and with hands folded under his head, looked up into the boughs15, and in dreamy fashion watched the birds flying in and out. Harry whipped the inevitable16 boat hull17 out of his pocket and began whittling18; and Nan, as any one who knew her could have foretold19, soon discovered some sort of wild flowers at a little distance, and wandered off to gather them. They proved to be Black-eyed Susans, as the children call the yellow field daisies; and when she had picked them she discovered a larger growth of the same flower farther on in the midst of one of those luxurious20 wild “hedges, which often flourish along the line of railroads in the country. Of course she must needs have these too, and she hurried to reach them, as though half afraid that someone would seek to rob her of the prize. Eagerly she broke the stems; with a quiet knack21 placed each flower just where it would most contribute to the effectiveness of her bouquet22, and she was just turning to go back to the boys when she spied something large and dark lying right across the track a hundred yards away.
“Harry! Reginald!” she cried, at the top of her voice, “come here, quick!” at the same time shading her eyes with her hand, to discover, if possible, what the something might be. Harry was on his feet in an instant, for Nan was hidden from sight, and he feared some accident. Regie reached for his crutches23 and followed after as fast as he could. It seemed to Nan as though Harry never would come. “Look there,” she cried, as soon as he was within hearing distance, “What can it be?” pointing down the track as she spoke24.
“My jimini, I believe it's a cow!” and, more courageous25 than Nan, hurried on to investigate. Nan, with a pretty native thoughtfulness, waited till Rex had hobbled up to her, and then they trudged26 along to join Harry, who had reached the dark object, and stood poking27 at it with a sharp-pointed stick. Yes, it was certainly a great, dark-red cow, and the little party, gathering28 around her, stared at her for a few seconds in awe-struck silence.
“Is she dead?” asked Nan, betraying a world of emotion in her voice.
“Looks like it, doesn't it?” said Harry, appealing to Regie. Rex shook his head solemnly in the affirmative.
“Oh, dear, dear!” cried Nan, “she'll be run over when the train comes.”
“It won't hurt her if she is,” answered Harry, trying to assume a light tone; but his face plainly showed that he thought it a pretty serious matter.
“I wonder what we ought to do?” said Rex.
“I think we had better get right off this track this minute,” Nan wisely advised, “for there's no knowing when a train may come round the curve yonder.” So they clambered up the bank and sat down to deliberate.
“Do you suppose she will throw the train off the track?” questioned Nan.
“I don't believe so,” said Rex, “that's what the cow-catcher is for, you know.”
“But the trouble is they don't always catch,” remarked Harry, with an emphatic29 shake of his head.
“Oh, do you suppose a train may be coming?” asked Nan, with a perceptible little shiver.
“How should we know, goosie?” answered Harry, with a nervous sort of shrug30.
“But,” questioned Rex, in business-like fashion, “what are we going to do about it?”
“Well,” said Harry, “I don't see that we can do anything. I haven't an idea where this road can run to. Perhaps it is not used now.”
“Oh, yes, it is,” cried Nan. “Hark!” and she pushed back her sun-bonnet so that she could hear more distinctly.
Yes, surely it was a whistle, all three of the children heard it,—a long way off no doubt; but now............