Marjories Vacation | Page 6

Steve was a great friend of Marjorie's, and she flew to greet him
almost before he had time to welcome her mother. Then in a few
moments the luggage was looked after, and they were all in the carriage,
rolling away toward Haslemere.
Marjorie chatted away like a magpie, for she had many questions to ask
Uncle Steve, and as she was looking out to renew acquaintance with
old landmarks along the road, the drive to the house seemed very short,
and soon they were turning in at the gate.
Haslemere was not a large, old-fashioned farm, but a fair-sized and
well-kept country place. Grandma Sherwood, who had been a widow
for many years, lived there with her son Stephen. It was like a farm,
because there were chickens and ducks, and cows and horses, and also
a large garden where fresh vegetables of all sorts were raised. But there
were no grain fields or large pasture lands, or pigs or turkeys, such as
belong to larger farms. The drive from the gate up to the house was a
long avenue, shaded on both sides by beautiful old trees, and the wide
expanse of lawn was kept as carefully mowed as if at a town house.
There were flower beds in abundance, and among the trees and
shrubbery were rustic seats and arbors, hammocks and swings, and a
delightful tent where the children loved to play. Back of the house the
land sloped down to the river, which was quite large enough for
delightful boating and fishing.
The house was of that old-fashioned type which has two front doors
and two halls, with large parlors between them, and wings on either
side. A broad veranda ran across the front, and, turning both corners,
ran along either side.
As they drove up to the house, Grandma Sherwood was on the piazza
waiting for them. She was not a very old lady, that is, she was not of
the white-haired, white-capped, and silver-spectacled variety. She was
perhaps sixty years old, and seemed quite as energetic and enthusiastic
as her daughter, if perhaps not quite so much so as her granddaughter.

Marjorie sprang out of the carriage, and flew like a young whirlwind to
her grandmother's arms, which were open to receive her.
"My dear child, how you have grown!"
"I knew you'd say that, Grandma," said Marjorie, laughing merrily,
"and, indeed, I have grown since I was here last. Just think, that was
three years ago! I'm almost twelve years old now."
"Well, you are a great girl; run in the house, and lay off your things,
while I speak to your mother."
Marjorie danced into the house, flung her coat and gloves on the hall
rack, and still holding her kitten, went on through to the kitchen, in
search of Eliza the cook.
"The saints presarve us!" cried Eliza. "An' is it yersilf, Miss Midget!
Why, ye're as big as a tellygraft pole, so ye are!"
"I know I am, Eliza, but you're just the same as ever; and just look at
the kitten I have brought! Have you any here now?"
"Cats, is it? Indade we have, then! I'm thinkin' there do be a hundred
dozen of thim; they're undher me feet continual! But what kind of a
baste is thot ye have there? I niver saw such a woolly one!"
"This is a Persian kitten, Eliza, and her name is Puff. Isn't she pretty?"
"I'll not be sayin' she's purty, till I see how she doos be behavin'. Is she
a good little cat, Miss Midget dear?"
"Good! Indeed she is a good kitty. And I wish you'd give her some milk,
Eliza, while I run out to see the chickens. Is Carter out there?"
But without waiting for an answer, Marjorie was already flying down
through the garden, and soon found Carter, the gardener, at his work.
"Hello, Carter!" she cried. "How are you this summer?"

"Welcome, Miss Midge! I'm glad to see you back," exclaimed the old
gardener, who was very fond of the Maynard children.
"And I'm glad to be here, Carter; and I have some seeds to plant; will
you help me plant them?"
"That I will. What are they?"
"I don't know; King gave them to me, but he wouldn't tell me what they
were."
"Ah, the mischievous boy! Now, how can we tell where to plant them
when we don't know if they'll come up lilies of the valley or elephant's
ears?"
Marjorie laughed gayly. "It doesn't matter, Carter," she said; "let's stick
them in some sunny place, and then, if they seem to be growing too
high, we can transplant them."
"It's a wise little head you have, Miss; we'll do just that."
Humoring Marjorie's impatience, the good-natured gardener helped her
plant the seeds