The Merry Five

The Merry Five were Molly, Kirke, and Weezy Rowe, and their twin comrades, Paul and Pauline Bradstreet, who lived over the way. Paul, Pauline, and Molly were now fourteen years old, Kirke was twelve, and little Miss Weezy seven. The story begins with the Rowes at luncheon-time.

“O papa! I’m so glad we’re going to the beach,” cried Molly, laying down her fork.

“And I’m glad we’re going to be so near Captain Bradstreet’s camp,” added Kirke, flourishing his napkin. “Oh! we shall have a famous outing.”

“_Exquit!_” chirped Weezy, not at all sure what an outing might be, only that it must be something jolly.

“Me too, mamma,” lisped Baby Donald, paddling with his spoon in his bowl of milk.

Mr. Rowe had caused this unusual excitement by reading aloud a letter from Mrs. Kitto, who kept a boarding-house at Santa Luzia. The letter stated that she had received Mr. Rowe’s note of inquiry, and that if he desired it, she would take himself and family as boarders on the following Wednesday.

“You do desire it, papa; don’t you?” added Molly eagerly.

“If your mamma does, my daughter.”

“It will be difficult to leave so soon,” remarked Mrs. Rowe, thoughtfully stroking Donald’s restless fingers.

“But we children can help,” said Molly quickly. “We have helped a great deal since vacation; now, haven’t we, mamma?”

“Certainly you have, my dear,” returned Mrs. Rowe with a smile. Did Molly remember that this vacation was as yet hardly two days old?

The first thing that Molly did after luncheon by way of helping, was to run across the street to Captain Bradstreet’s to signal to Pauline in the cheery trill that all school-girls know.

“Mrs. Kitto can take us, Polly! We’re going Wednesday!” she cried, as Pauline came dancing out, her long hair floating behind her like a black flag.

“You are, Molly? Papa says we sha’n’t be off before the first of next month. But he has partly promised to let Paul and me stop at Santa Luzia on the way.”

“O Pauline, how perfectly lovely!”

“I didn’t believe he’d ever think of such a thing,” said Pauline, braiding her hair. “He’s so silly about us twins since mamma died. Can’t bear to have us out of his sight.”

“I don’t wonder, Polly, I’m sure.” Molly’s eyes glowed with pity, as they always did when Pauline spoke of her dead mother. She longed to tell Pauline how sorry she was for her, but the words would not come. What she did say was only this, “Your shoe-string’s untied, Polly, the right one.”

“Is it? Well, it might as well be the right as the left. It’s sure to be one or the other,” returned easy-going Pauline, stooping to fasten the offending lacing.

“Oh! won’t it be delightful if you and Paul can come to Santa Luzia, Polly? I hope you can stay at Mrs. Kitto’s a whole week.”

“Thank you, Molly dear, and I”--Pauline had been about to say that she hoped Molly and Kirke would stay at least that length of time at the camp; but suddenly remembered that there might not be room enough for them. She must ask her father.

“I--I suppose Auntie David will meet us at Santa Luzia,” she said, to finish the sentence.

“What does make you call her Auntie David, Pauline? You’ve never told me.”

“Oh, Paul and I began to call her that when we were little snips, and we’ve done it ever since. Auntie doesn’t mind. Her name is Davidson, you know. She married Uncle John Davidson.”

“Will Mr. Davidson come to Santa Luzia too, Polly?”

“Oh, no; Uncle John has gone East. He goes East every summer on business, and then Auntie comes to live with us. Lucky for Paul and me; lucky for papa too! Auntie David is papa’s only sister. I believe he thinks she made the world!”

“Well, I must skip back,” said Molly, with an important air. “Kirke has gone over to Mrs. Carillo’s to see if Manuel wants to keep Kirke’s cart and burro while we’re away; and mamma may want me to do some errands.”

All the rest of the week there was a pleasant bustle in the Rowe household, the bustle of preparing for a journey.

“We’re going to ride in the cars,” little Miss Weezy explained to all callers. “We’re going to Sandy Luzia. It’s ’most a hundred miles.”

The little maiden was very busy these days; for she had to hunt up her scattered dolls, many of them having strayed out of sight.

Mr. Rowe, though still far from strong, was very busy too.

“I must drive over to the gardener’s this morning to instruct him in regard to the hedge,” he said to Mrs. Rowe the next Monday.

“Shall we shut up Zip?” asked Mrs. Rowe, as she brought her husband a glass of milk.

“No, my dear,” Mr. Rowe smiled. “Let the little Mexican follow. I believe his dogship thinks none of the family can be trusted anywhere without him.”

As soon as Mr. Rowe had gone, Mrs. Rowe hastened to call Molly from the book she was reading.

“Come, Molly, while papa is away we will begin our packing. Please ask Hop Kee to take the largest trunk from the store-room, and set it down in the upper hall in front of the grate.”

Molly put “Alice in Wonderland” upon the table with a little sigh, and walked out to the kitchen rather more slowly than a girl ought to walk when she goes on her mother’s errands. She was thinking about Alice and that surprising rabbit. What would he do next?

“Now, children, you can collect the articles that you cannot do without,” said Mrs. Rowe, after the trunk had been placed before the unused grate. “The necessary articles must be put in first, for we sha’n’t have room for everything you’d like.”

Kirke immediately brought his tennis-racket, his foot-ball, and his jointed fishing-rod, and flung them into the trunk.

“I must have my tool-box, too, mamma, and the ship I’m rigging, and”--

“Any clothes, Kirke?” interrupted Molly mischievously, as she appeared with an armful of bathing-suits.