by Carolyn Wells, originally begun January 1899
CHOOSING A BIRTHDAY
Life at Denniston soon settled down into a natural and ordinary course, except that Betty and Jack had rather better times than most children.
The Van Courts came over occasionally to advise and assist, when necessary; and Mr. Brewster came to Greenborough once a month, and went over the accounts with Mrs. Kinsey, to assure himself that everything was going on rightly, and that he might make a favorable report to Mr. Morris. Betty had concluded that she did n't want a governess who would live in the house, because it would spoil things to have some one in the family and yet not of it; but a tutor was engaged, who came every morning and taught the young ideas to shoot straight. The library was turned into a school-room, and Mr. Mixon found his two pupils very diligent and studious, since both were naturally bright and truly anxious to learn.
Although the days were growing warm, they decided not to take a summer vacation; for, as Betty said, all their life had been a vacation, and their school-term had just begun. So they pegged away at their books every morning, and spent the afternoons in sports and games.
Of intimate friends they had a small circle; but Jack and Betty were shrewd readers of character, and a boy or girl who looked down upon them because of their humble origin, or looked up to them only because of their wealth, was not often invited again to Denniston.
But perhaps a dozen young folks in the neighborhood proved to be what Jack called "true blue," and any or all of these were welcomed in the afternoons; and they were glad to come, too, for nowhere else could be found such good fun.
It was not only that Denniston had tennis-courts and bowling-alleys, and a pond with rowboats on it, or that Ellen's pantry could always provide a bountiful feast for a hungry throng, or that Pete was ever ready with service of any kind that might be required; but Betty and Jack were such a jolly, good-natured pair, always ready for any kind of fun, and never dictatorial or quarrelsome.
Of course Jack's lameness prevented his joining in some of the athletic sports; but he could bowl and row as well as any boy, and he had hopes of being able some day to run and jump with the best of them; for a great surgeon in New York had been written to, and had consented to come to Greenborough and undertake the cure of the lame boy.
One day in July Dr. Norton came, and said that Jack's case was curable, but that his leg would have to be broken and reset.
Though the operation would be painful, and the healing slow, Jack declared himself willing to undergo tortures, if need be; and so the deed was done.
And then poor Jack had to lie strapped to a board for nearly a month, and then walk with crutches for two or three weeks longer.
He bore it all bravely, and even while disabled studied his lessons so diligently that he threatened to get ahead of Betty.
But that ambitious young woman would n't allow such a thing, so she redoubled her energies; and the two made such progress that Mr. Mixon began to think he had a pair of prodigies in his charge.
The 1st of September was set for Jack to take his first unassisted steps; and one hot day about the middle of August Betty ran into his room, and slammed the door behind her.
Although improved in many ways by Grandma Jean's wise training and by her own sense of the fitness of things, Betty still had a decided breeziness of manner, and was given to abruptness both in words and deeds.
"Jack," she exclaimed, in an excited tone, "don't you tell if I tell you somethin'."
"No," said Jack, who was deep in an English history. "But I say, Betty, have you come to Mary, Queen of Scots, yet? They cut off her head! Just think of it—cut off her head!"
"What a pity," said Betty, with sympathy, but rather absent-mindedly; "but promise, Jack, don't tell what I 'm going to tell you."
"I won't tell; what is it?" said Jack, solemnly.
"Well, I 'm going to have a birthday party!"
"Pooh! You can't. You have n't got any birthday— or at least you don't know when it is."
"That's just it. I 'm going to get a birthday."
"Ho! buy it, I s'pose. Do you think you can buy everything?"
"Now, listen, Jack. You don't know when your birthday is, either; and we don't know Polly's exactly, only that it 's in September. So I 'm going to choose one birthday, and let it do for the whole three of us."
"All right; but there 's plenty of days—why not have one apiece ?"
"No; it 'll be more fun to have 'em all on the same day. We 'll take September, 'cause we know that 's Polly's month; and now let's choose a day in the first week of it, and then you walk first on that day, and we 'll celebrate it by a party."
"All right; I choose the 1st; that 'll come the quickest."
"Well, if you 're sure your splint will be off by that time. We 'll ask Dr. Norton. And I 've planned it all out. I want the celebration to be a parade—in honor of your being able to walk, you know."
"Yes," said Jack, who was interested enough now; "and we 'll have a band."
"We 'll be the band ourselves. I 'm going to get up a 'pop-gun orchestra.' Tillie Fenn told me about it. And you can ride when you get tired walking, and Polly will be in the parade in her baby-carriage, and it 'll be lovely!"
"What's a pop-gun orchestra?"
"Oh, it's lots of fun! Everybody plays on anything they want to. Tillie Fenn and I are going to town to-day to get the things to play on, and then we 'll all have to practise, you know."
"I thought you said it was a secret."
"Not the orchestra; only the birthday party and the parade. Now, while I 'm gone, you make out a list of the boys and girls we want in the band. It does n't matter whether they can play on anything or not, for some have just clappers or paper and combs to play on."
"I 'll play the bones," said Jack; "I can do that in style, though I have n't touched 'em since I came here. Bring me a set, will you, Betty?"
"All right; I will. Now, you make out a list of people—and think up a lot of tunes, too."
Betty whisked out as suddenly as she had whisked in, and skipping down to the veranda, gave a long, shrill whistle which could be heard at the barn, and in response to which her pony-cart was soon at the door.
"Thank you, Pete," she said pleasantly; and in a moment she had jumped in and was flying down the avenue.
She stopped for Tillie Fenn, and then the two girls drove off to the village.
They easily found what they wanted, and returned laden with pop-guns, jew's-harps, combs, watchmen's s rattles, drums, cymbals, bones, sand-brushes—in fact, anything that would make a noise.
Betty told her friend the great secret; for what fun is there in having a secret, unless you tell it? And Tillie thought the whole project grand, and promised to help all she could. "Be sure and come over to-morrow afternoon," said Betty, as she left Tillie at her own home. "Come early, and stay to supper."
"Yes, I 'll come; and shall I bring Tom?"
"Yes, indeed; the more the merrier."
When Betty reached home, Jack had the list of performers made out, and a note written to each one. Pete was despatched at once to deliver the notes, and then Betty displayed her stock of musical instruments with pride.
Jack grasped eagerly at the bones, and made such a deafening clatteration with them that Betty ran away with her hands over her ears. At supper, that night, they told Grandma Jean all about it, and she was much amused at the idea of the triple birthday.
"And how old will you all be?" she asked, thinking up a small secret on her own account.
"Well," said Betty, uncertainly, "I think I 've been fourteen for about a year, so I 'll be fifteen. Jack does n't know how old he is, so we 're going to call him fifteen, too; and Polly, of course, will be three. We know her birthday comes in September, but we don't know the day." Then she added reflectively: "It's just as likely to be the 1st as another day."
"No," said Jack, who had a head for mathematics; "it 's twenty-nine times as likely to be another day as the 1st."
This was too deep reasoning for Betty, so she ignored it and went on telling about her plans:
"And you see, grandma, we 'll get the band in good working order, and then they can lead the parade, and we 'll march all about the grounds. And we 'll have you and the Van Courts and some more grown-up people to sit on the veranda for to be beholding of us."
Betty's grammar had greatly improved under Mr. Mixon's teaching, but her sentences were often of imperfect construction.
Although anxious above all things to study music, Betty's lessons in that art had not yet begun. The best music-teacher of Greenborough was away on his summer vacation, so Betty was obliged to wait until fall. But a naturally quick ear, and a positive talent for time, enabled her to lead her orchestra successfully.
Day after day the young people met in the Denniston music-room; and such a caterwauling was the result that Grandma Jean, who had become a favorite in Greenborough society, made many afternoon calls during that period.
After a while, though, when they became more proficient, the music was really not so bad—that is, if anybody liked at kind. It was strong, loud, and accurate; and what more could be desired in a pop-gun orchestra?
The number of performers had steadily grown larger, and now twenty answered to roll-call. Tillie Fenn played the piano to teach the tunes, and Betty's baton kept the time true.
Their selections were varied, and contained many street songs and patriotic airs. Marches were among their favorites. But their grandest accomplishment was the "Anvil Chorus." When this was played on fifes and paper-covered combs, and accompanied by bones and cymbals and rolling drums and watchmen's rattles, with pop-guns popping just at the right time, the effect was truly thrilling.
By the end of August Jack was improving so fast that the doctor said he might surely walk without his crutches on the first day of September, though not very far. So it was arranged that he should start out with the grand parade, and pass the reviewing-stand, after which the pony-cart would be in waiting, and the rest of the way Master Jack could ride.
Then preparations went on merrily, and invitations were sent out for the great affair.
...to be continued
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