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Dorothy Dale's Queer Holidays

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<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> <h3>GATHERING EVERGREENS</h3> "I have it all planned," announced Mrs. White the next morning. "The boys are to go for evergreens, and the girls are to assist me here. It is rather early, but it is best to have the greens on time." Ned and Nat groaned. It would be dull enough to go for evergreens, but with the possibility of "a scare in the woods" for Dorothy and Tavia it might be bearable, whereas, if the girls would be obliged to remain at home—— But Mrs. White's sons did not object. She had "planned the day," and that settled it. Joe and Roger were delighted. They felt that girls often proved unequal to all "the bear hunts and wild beast chasing," so dear to the hearts of healthy, young boys. "We might build a campfire," suggested Roger enthusiastically when Joe told him he was to go to the woods. "Too cold for camping," Joe reminded his small brother. But the fact of it being very cold seemed to Roger all the more reason why a campfire should be built, and he said so. "Well, I'll ask Ned," agreed Joe, "and if he says so we'll take bacon and things to roast." Ned and Nat thought seriously over the prospect of hunting evergreens with two "kids." They liked their little cousins—in fact, were very fond of them—but it did seem to the larger boys that there would not be much fun in scouring the woods for greens, and answering small boys' questions, unlimited. "Let's ask Roland Scott and Tom Jennings," suggested Nat. "They came home yesterday, and likely would enjoy a fly in the Fire Bird." "Good idea," agreed Ned. "Just run over, and do the asking. I saw Tom cross the lawn a short time ago. He is sure to stick close to Roland." One hour later the Fire Bird was "on the wing," and in the car were the boys from The Cedars and their guests, two young men just home from college for the holidays. "Whew!" whistled the handsome Roland as soon as the party got away from The Cedars. "What a stunner your blonde cousin is, Ned! Seems to me you might have prepared a fellow. I almost had a spell when she came to greet me." Now, Ned White never relished hearing other fellows admire Dorothy. It was a strange fact that while he knew Dorothy to be pretty he was never prepared to hear others say so. Nat picked up the end of Roland's remark. He knew Ned would not say anything very agreeable to it. "But what do you think of the other?" asked Nat. "Now, I prefer the burnished type." "A tomboy, isn't she?" ventured Tom, referring to Tavia. "Oh, just a good fellow," answered Nat. "Always ready for a lark, if that's what you mean." "Jolly! I thought so," responded Tom. "Well, I do like a girl with some go in her, if she doesn't happen to put all the go in my direction." "In other words," assumed Nat, "you like the tomboy type—in the abstract." "Guess that's it," answered Tom. "But certainly those two girls are equal to putting you through a lively holiday. Wish we had a pair like them down to The Elms for this spell. Gee—I just dread this Christmas stuff. Aunts and uncles have my bedroom lined with 'secret packages' already. I went on the 'collar button crawl' this morning, and nearly fainted when I saw the stuff under my bed. Aunt Molly runs some kind of a charity jinks, you know, and she has picked out my room as the safest place to hide her trash." "Oh, yes," remarked Ned, "I heard Dorothy say something about it yesterday. Seems to me she said she was going to help." "Oh, then the stuff may remain under my bed," quickly spoke Tom. "If Miss Dorothy is interested—so am I." "I had her first," objected Roland, joking. "I may buy a couple of rag dolls myself. Does Miss Dorothy prefer the rag variety?" Ned seemed all attention to the car. Occasionally he turned to speak to Joe and Roger, but otherwise he took little part in his friends' badinage. "Where are you bound for?" asked Tom as Ned guided the Fire Bird into a narrow lane. "We'll try old Hemlock Grove first. There should be plenty of green stuff there," replied Ned. "Yes, and if I mistake not," added Nat, "there is in those woods a cabin—old Hume's place. We may be able to lay out there for dinner." "Goody!" exclaimed Roger, whose eyes had been continually on the big basket of stuff which Norah, the good-natured cook at The Cedars, had put up for the boys. "Right," concluded Ned; "there's a chimney and all. Just the place for a layout. Let me see, where did that shanty used to stand?" "I see something like a cabin over there," said Joe, pointing to a corner in the woods where great oak trees towered above all others in the grove. Even in December some brown leaves clung to these giants of the forest, that now rustled a gentle welcome to the boys in the Fire Bird. Ned swung up as close as the wagon road would allow, and presently the party had "disembarked," and were scampering through the woods toward the abandoned hut of an old woodchopper. "Great catch!" exclaimed Tom. "If there is one thing I like it is an outdoor hut with an indoor place on a cold day." "We've got a bag of charcoal, you know," Roger reminded them, for Norah had secretly given that part of the equipment to Roger personally. "That's right," assented Ned, "Then run over to the car and fetch it. Norah is an all-right girl, isn't she?" "I would call her a peach, whoever she may be," added Roland as he gathered up some dry bits of wood on his way to the cabin. "Norah's our cook," declared Roger with an implied rebuke in his voice, for it did seem to him every one should have been aware of that important fact. "Beg your pardon," said Roland. "I have a profound respect for such a cook as your refreshing Norah—I say refreshing advisedly," making a grab at the basket Joe and Nat were carrying. "Here we are," called Tom, who was somewhat in advance. "And the door is not barred." Roger was back with the bag of charcoal, and now they all entered the old hut. The place had evidently been long ago left to the squirrels and wood birds, but it was clean, save for the refuse of dry leaves and bits of bark, remnants of other winters, when the broken windows accepted what the winds chose to hurl in and scatter about the old woodchopper's cabin. "Hurrah!" shouted Roger, inadvertently spilling his prized bag of charcoal. "We don't light the fire there," said Nat "Better pick that up and dump it on the fireplace. Isn't this great, though? Glad I came! Fellows, help yourselves," and he stretched out on a rude board bench that lined one side of the place. "Get up!" insisted Tom. "Do you suppose for one instant that you do not have to work? I assign you to the task of striking the matches." It occurred to Roger that some boys, big ones at that, might be just as silly as girls—in fact, more silly than most girls, for when they said foolish things they invariably took the trouble to laugh at their own attempts. Now, thought Roger, girls never do that. Close upon the heels of that thought sprang into the little fellow's heart the wish that Dorothy might have been along. She would know just how to arrange the dinner so that the big fellows did not get the best pieces. Nat had already begun at his task—he was striking matches furiously by the old stone fireplace, watching the dry leaves blaze up and then die out quickly. "Here, quit!" called Roland. "Do you think we fellows are lined with matches? We really might want one for the fire, you know." "Oh, certainly," assented Nat, discontinuing his pastime. "I was just trying the flue." "But I say, fellows," remarked Tom seriously, "isn't this great? What do you suppose the place stands for?" "A woodchopper's cabin," Ned replied. "There was fine wood in these parts some years ago, before the telephone company bought up all the tall trees. Uncle Frank—Major Dale, you know—was telling us only the other night about it. Some ten years ago a telephone inspector came out here and bargained for the whole grove—that is, all the good, sound trees. Then the woodchoppers went back to Canada." "Glad they left their hut, at any rate," remarked Tom, tossing an armful of dry wood on to the stone hearth. "What do we cook?" "Bacon, potatoes, cheese to toast, and—let me see. What else?" queried Nat, rummaging through the basket of supplies. "Bread and butter, pepper and salt, and a whole cake," announced Roger with unconcealed glee. "I guess that'll do," drawled Tom. "Sorry we didn't think to fetch something ourselves." "Oh, this is my treat," replied Nat. "It was I who thought about the lunch," Roger reminded him. "That's right, kid, you did. But then, you are always hungry, which may, in a measure, account for your wonderful forethought." The blazing fire had by this time warmed the place comfortably, and it was jolly, indeed, to prepare the meal over the strong embers of good solid oak. An old grate had been found about the place, and upon this the sliced bacon was spread, while the potatoes were dropped directly into the embers. Norah had thought of everything, even paper napkins and picnic knives and forks. There was, too, a bottle of olives and some cold ham in the very bottom of the basket. "What's to drink?" asked Ned, his tone implying that anything to drink had been forgotten. "Oh, the jug of coffee!" exclaimed Joe. "That's in the car. I'll run and fetch it." The jug of coffee had been placed in a deep, enameled pan, which was to serve as coffee-pot in the warming process. "Well, I say!" exclaimed Roland. "Think I'll change quarters. I would like first rate to meet your Norah." "I'm first there," put in Tom. "I met her at the kitchen door as I went around for the oil can. And I must say I rather like that shade of hair. Our shortstop had it, and he claimed it was classic—called it mahogany, too." The bacon sizzled merrily, the potatoes smelled "brown," and soon all was ready. It was a queer sort of picnic—a "smoker," Tom insisted, for something happened with the fire that caused the smoke to flare back into the cabin instead of going peaceably out of the little chimney. But the boys did not mind that—they were too interested in the meal. Even Norah's good nature could scarcely estimate on a dinner of this kind. Eating seemed to cause hunger, instead of allaying the sensation. But when everything was really gone, and each boy knew it was not possible to get another crumb, each declared he had had plenty. Certainly it was jolly, but when Ned glanced at his watch and discovered that the noon hour had long since passed, he hurried his companions along. "Look here," he reminded them, "we are out for evergreens. This is not a food-grabbing affair. Let's get back to the car. I don't see a blade of green around here." "Nary a sprig," declared Tom, looking over the woodland. "Well, I suppose we will have to leave this retreat. But I hope we find it next summer. Wouldn't it be a great place to camp?" All agreed the spot would be ideal for a summer camp, and when they had entered the Fire Bird and swung again out upon the wagon road, some of the party rather blamed the kind of holiday that required greens, when such a fine day might have been spent in the woodchopper's cabin. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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