The Star People

The ripples of the motor-boat that had carried "Sister" and "The Children's Father" away from the dock had gone from the glassy water. Over across the lake, at Pentecost station, they would catch the ten o'clock train, to be gone a week.

Uncle Henry had urged "Sister" to go. He had said he was perfectly sure of being able to look after Peter and Paul and Betty for just seven days, but now that "Sister" was really gone Uncle Henry felt the size of the task he had undertaken.

Of course he wasn't alone. There was big, wholesome Katy, the maid. "Competent Katy," he had at once named her to himself on his arrival two weeks before. The sleeping, eating, and dressing of twin ten-year-old boys and a seven-year-old girl would go on as usual without Uncle Henry's assistance.

In the daytime he planned to take them fishing, berry-picking, sailing, and bathing. Target-practice with Peter and Paul's air-rifle would help, too, and there would be walks in the woods, and up to Brighton's farm house for the milk every evening.

But between supper and bed was a gap that Uncle Henry thought might be hard to fill. He must think of some games. He didn't want to be a poor companion for his adored niece and nephews for even an hour of the time.

Uncle Henry blew a cloud from his pipe and watched it eddy slowly away, filtering through the leaves of the oak-branches at the side of the porch. Then he looked up to the vaporous band of the milky way. Stars hung in it, sparkling. It was like a chiffon streamer with tiny diamond spangles--or a cloud of smoke, blown, with sparks, from the pipe of Pan.

You will see right away that Uncle Henry was a poet, even if Pan's pipe wasn't the smoking kind. It might have been, as easy as not. Uncle Henry was wondering whether this last fancy might be made into a poem for his college paper, when the children's voices floated up from the beach. They were sitting on the smooth sand and singing in unison,

"Star bright, star-light-- Many's the star I see tonight. Star bright, star-light-- Tell me, is it true?

I wish I may, I wish I might Get the wish I wish tonight-- Star bright, star-light, Tell me, is it true?"

Uncle Henry took his feet off the porch-railing and allowed his chair to use all of its feet again. Then he leaned out by a post and looked straight up into the blue-black vault of a moonless July night sky. The stars were beautifully clear.

Evidently Peter, Paul, and Betty were singing praise to the fact. They had clapped enthusiastically for themselves, and were now beginning the encore--a repetition of "Star bright, star-light."

Uncle Henry's face had become thoughtful, and now he stepped down from the porch, and strolled down the boards to the dock. There he stood craning his neck backward and looking up, until the children had once more finished the verse, laughing and clapping. Evidently the applause for themselves was not enough this time, for there was no encore.

Peter, his eye on Uncle Henry, flopped down on his back and began gazing upward, too. In a moment he called,

"Uncle Hen?"

"Yes, Pete," from the dock, where Uncle Henry was star-gazing in the opposite direction.

"Why do they call 'the big dipper' the 'great bear'--and is there any 'little dipper'? Betty says there isn't, 'cause she never saw it."

Uncle Henry stepped off the dock upon the smooth sand, kneeled down, and without answering began collecting little smooth pebbles.

Surely this genius, who could make new kinds of kites, and willow-whistles that "worked fine," was not going to fail now. The other children turned to him, expectant too. Betty herself was willing to be proved wrong about the existence of the "little dipper," rather than admit a limit to Uncle Henry's wisdom.

"Let's make a nice, smooth place on the sand," said Uncle Henry, his hands now full of those mysterious pebbles. These he put into his pocket and began, on all fours, to smooth sand industriously.

"Come on, youngsters," he invited, "and I'll let you settle the questions yourselves. We'll make a game of it," he added.

The trio breathed easier. Uncle Henry did know, and was going to tell--in a new, interesting way. Three pairs of hands started smoothing sand, with some waste of energy, but with rapid results.

"Now," said Uncle Henry, squatting down before the leveled place, and pouring out the pebbles in a little pile, "how many stones do you need to make the dipper, Pete? We'll draw it on the sand, with pebbles for stars."

Three necks craned upward in unison, and the two boys' voices answered, almost together,

"Seven."

"Correct," said Uncle Henry, "that shows you have good eyes. The Arabs used to call that little star 'the proof,' because it is a test of good eyesight to see it. The star at the bend of the handle is also called 'the horse,' and that faint little star over it 'the rider.' You can make the dipper itself with seven pebbles, though. Go ahead and do it, Peter," Uncle Henry finished, "and take good-sized stones, to show that they're bright stars."

When Peter had finished, the smooth patch of sand looked like this in the light from Uncle Henry's pocket electric torch.

Betty insisted upon adding a tiny stone above "the horse," to represent her discovery, "the rider."

"Now," said Uncle Henry, looking upward, "I'll help you this much in finding all of 'the great bear.' The handle of the dipper is his tail. Everybody try to find the rest of him. Put down a pebble in the right spot for every star; big ones for bright ones, and little stones for faint ones."

"Ooh," interrupted Betty, "I got his nose!"

Here is where Betty put it.

"--and his shoulders!" she added in a moment, putting them in with small pebbles.

"I got his front leg!" announced Paul excitedly, adding three pebbles rapidly.

Then the bear looked like this.

It was Peter who contributed his hind legs and his "skeleton," made of finger-drawn lines in the sand. Like this.

And when Uncle Henry had drawn an outline in the sand with his finger, the "great bear" was done to everybody's satisfaction.

While they were all looking at it, Uncle Henry recited,

"_Ursa Major_'s Latin-- And it means, 'the greater bear.' Ursa's 'bear,' and Major's 'bigger,' If you want to see his 'figger,' At the dipper's handle stare-- That's the tail of Ursa Major. Find his shoulders, nose, and toes-- Who first named him, no one knows."