Marjories Busy Days | Page 4

to the desert island only an hour
before, it was not impossible that she might find some more, so they let
her go to make search. She returned with a paper bag of crackers and
another of pears.
"These are bread fruit," she announced, showing the crackers; "and
these are wild pears. This is indeed a fruitful island, and we're lucky to
be wrecked on such a good one."
"Lucky, indeed!" agreed the Captain. "Why, when I discovered those
eggs on a rocky ledge, I knew at once they were gulls' eggs."
"And how fortunate that they're boiled," said Kitty. "I can't bear raw
eggs."
The shipwrecked sufferers then spread out their food, and sat down to a
pleasant meal, for the Maynard children had convenient appetites, and
could eat at almost any hour of the day.
CHAPTER II
AN EXASPERATING GUEST
"Aren't hard-boiled eggs the very best things to eat in all the world?"
said Marjorie, as she looked lovingly at the golden sphere she had just
extracted from its ivory setting.
"They're awful good," agreed King, "but I like oranges better."
"Me eat lollunge," piped up Rosy Posy. "Buffaro Bill would 'ike a
lollunge."

"So you shall, Baby. Brother'll fix one for you."
And the shipwrecked Captain carefully prepared an orange, and gave it
bit by bit into the eager, rosy fingers.
"Of all things in the world," said Kitty, "I like chocolate creams best."
"Oh, so do I, if I'm not hungry!" said Marjorie. "I think I like different
things at different times."
"Well, it doesn't matter much what you like now," said King, as he
gave the last section of orange to Rosy Posy, "for everything is all eaten
up. Where'd you get those eggs, Mops? We never hardly have them
except on picnics."
"I saw them in the pantry. Ellen had them for a salad or something. So I
just took them, and told her she could boil some more."
"You're a good one, Mopsy," said her brother, looking at her in evident
admiration. "The servants never get mad at you. Now if I had hooked
those eggs, Ellen would have blown me up sky-high."
"Oh, I just smiled at her," said Marjorie, "and then it was all right. Now,
what are we going to do next?"
"Hark!" said Kingdon, who was again the shipwrecked mariner. "I hear
a distant sound as of fierce wild beasts growling and roaring."
"My child, my child!" shrieked Kitty, snatching up Arabella. "She will
be torn by dreadful lions and tigers!"
"We must protect ourselves," declared Marjorie. "Captain, can't you
build a barricade? They always do that in books."
"Ay, ay, ma'am. But also we must hoist a flag, a signal of distress. For
should a ship come by, they might stop and rescue us."
"But we have no flag. What can we use for one?"

"Give me your daughter's petticoat," said the Captain to Kitty.
"Not so!" said Kitty, who was fond of dramatic phrases. "Arabella's
petticoat is spandy clean, and I won't have it used to make a flag."
"I'll give you a flag," said Marjorie. "Take my hair-ribbon." She began
to pull off her red ribbon, but Kingdon stopped her.
"No," he said, "that won't do. We're not playing Pirates. It must be a
white flag. It's for a signal of distress."
Marjorie thought a moment. There really seemed to be no white flag
available.
"All right!" she cried, in a moment. "I'll give you a piece of my
petticoat. It's an old one, and the ruffle is torn anyhow."
In a flash, impetuous Marjorie had torn a good-sized bit out of her little
white petticoat, and the Captain fastened it to a long branch he had
broken from the maple tree.
This he managed, with the aid of some stones, to fasten in an upright
position, and then they sat down to watch for a passing sail.
"Buffaro Bill so s'eepy," announced that small person, and, with fat old
Boffin for a pillow, Rosy Posy calmly dropped off into a morning nap.
But the others suffered various dreadful vicissitudes. They were
attacked by wild beasts, which, though entirely imaginary, required
almost as much killing as if they had been real.
Kitty shot or lassoed a great many, but she declined to engage in the
hand-to-hand encounters with tigers and wolves, such as Marjorie and
Kingdon undertook, for fear she'd be thrown down on the ground. And,
indeed, her fears were well founded, for the valiant fighters were often
thrown by their fierce adversaries, and rolled over and over, only to
pick themselves up and renew the fray.
More exciting still was an attack from the natives of the island. They

were horrible savages, with tomahawks, and they approached with
blood-curdling yells.
Needless to say that, after a fearful