In answer to his pleased a.s.sent, Joyce turned over the letters till she came to the first one that Mary had written from Bauer.

"It was written on pieces of a paper sugar-sack while she was getting supper," explained Joyce. "But you can fairly see the little town spread out between the spire of St. Peter's and the tower of the Holy Angels'

Academy, with the windmills in between and the new moon low on the horizon."

Phil, lounging back in the big chair, sat with a smile on his face as he listened to Mary's account of the rector's call, while she was perched up on the windmill. But when Joyce reached the closing paragraph about its being a good old world after all, and her belief in Grandmother Ware's verse that the crooked should be made straight and the rough places smooth, a very tender light shone in his keen eyes. He said in a low tone, "The dear little Vicar! She's game to the core!"

Urged to read more, Joyce went on, sometimes choosing only an extract here and there, sometimes reading an entire letter, till he had heard all about her visit to Gay, her first experience at a military hop, their brave attempt to make a merry Christmas among strangers, and finally her experience with the Mallory children, because of their desperate need of money.

"Don't skip!" insisted Phil, still laughing over her account of her "day of rest" at the Barnaby ranch, when the peac.o.c.k lost its tail.

"The next one isn't funny," replied Joyce, "but it is especially interesting to me because it shows how Mary is growing up."

She hunted through the disordered pile until she found one dated two months ago.

"'The night after I brought Brud and Sister back from the ranch I lay awake for hours, trying to think what to do next to find the vulnerable spot in my _kleinen teufel_. I couldn't think of a thing, but decided to begin telling them Kipling's jungle stories instead of any more fairy-tales, and to try Mrs. Barnaby's suggestion of making them responsible for their own entertainment part of the time.'

"Oh, this isn't the one I thought," exclaimed Joyce. "It goes on to tell about the last news from Holland, instead of the children. Here is the one I wanted, written two weeks later:

"'Hail, Columbia, happy land! I've found the "open sesame," thanks to Kipling, and in a way I little expected. The children showed a breathless interest in the Jungle stories from the start, and began dramatizing them of their own accord. They have thrown themselves into the play with a zest which nothing of my proposing has ever called out.

For two weeks I have been old Baloo, the Brown Bear, and Father Wolf by turns. There are two little hairless man-cubs in our version, however, for a Mowglina divides honors with Mowgli. Sister says she has chosen the name of Mowglina "for keeps," and I sincerely hope she has, if what Mr. Sammy Bradford said about names having a moral effect on her is true.

"'We have our Council Rock up on the high hill back of St. Peter's, where Meliss sometimes plays the part of the Black Panther. We no longer greet each other with "Good morning." It is "Good Hunting" now, and when we part, it is with the benediction, "Jungle favor go with thee!" You remember Baloo taught the wood and water laws to Mowgli, how to tell a rotten branch from a sound one, how to speak politely to the wild bees when he came upon a hive of them, etc. But more than all he taught the Master Words of the Jungle, that turned every bird, beast and snake into a friend. It is simply amazing to me the way they seemed to be charmed by that idea, and it is strange that such utterly lawless children should be not only willing but eager to abide by the rules laid down for animals. It does my soul good to hear Brud, who has never obeyed anyone, gravely declaim:

"'"Now these are the laws of the Jungle, And many and mighty are they, But the head and the hoof of the law And the haunch and the hump is--_obey_!"

"'Or to hear saucy little Sister in the role of Mowglina, repeating Kaa's words to Uncle August, "A brave heart _and a courteous tongue_, they will carry thee far through the Jungle, manling."

"'It was Uncle August, bless his old brown body, who helped me to make my first personal application of the play. I had just heard of their latest prank down-town. (Sad to say, the more angelic they are as little wolves, the more annoying they are when they return to the Man-pack.) They had dropped a live garter snake, a good-sized one, through the slit of the package box, and the postmistress had picked it up with a bundle of newspapers. She was so frightened that she yelled like a Comanche, and then had a nervous chill that lasted for a quarter of an hour. That same day they filled all the keyholes of the private letterboxes with chewing-gum, as far up as they could reach, and everybody who had to stop to pry it out was _so_ cross.

"'I didn't say anything to them about it till after they had told me about Uncle August's chasing the calves out of Mrs. Williams' garden, and how she had petted and praised him for it. We talked a few minutes about the way Uncle August is beloved by everybody who knows him, and how even strangers on the street stop to pat his head or say something kind about him.

"'"It's because he keeps every Law of the Jungle, for dogs," I told them, and then I said, quite mercilessly, "but the whole town looks on you two children as _Banderlogs_! Mere, senseless monkey-folks, outcasts who have no leaders and no laws!" Really, it hurt them dreadfully and I felt almost cruel for saying it. I could see that the shot told when I reminded them how they had been turned out of the hotel and chased out of every store in town. I told them that people said ugly things about them behind their backs, just as Kaa and Baloo did about the silly gray Apes who threw dirt and sticks and made mischief wherever they went.

"'That was the climax. They both threw themselves across my lap and began to cry, protesting that they were _not_ Banderlogs. They didn't want people to call them that. I think my good angel must have inspired me to make the little sermon that I gave them then, for I certainly had never thought of the a.n.a.logy before--how the same thing that is true in the Jungle holds good in the Man-world; that we must learn the Master Words for each person we meet, so that every heart will understand when we call out, "We be of one blood, ye and I." That just as the elephants and kites and snakes became friendly to Mowgli as soon as he learned the Master Words of their speech, so Miss Edna and the postmistress and old Mr. Sammy would be friendly to them, when they showed that they not only had brave hearts, which scorned to play little, mean, silly tricks, but _courteous tongues_ as well.

"'The amazing part of it is that they understood me perfectly, and right then and there had a sort of spiritual awakening to the fact that they really are "of one blood" with these people they have been tormenting.

It is pathetic to watch how hard they have been trying ever since, to convince people that they are _not_ Banderlogs, but are sensible children, willing to be governed by laws that they never understood before. Now, at parting, they insist on my repeating _all_ the verse:

"'"Wood and water, wind and tree, _Wisdom_, _strength and courtesy_, Jungle favor go with thee."

They seem to believe that it verily holds some sort of hoodoo spell which will armor them with magic power to make friends.

"'Already Sister has made peace with the postmistress by the gift of a crude little willow basket of her own weaving, filled with wildflowers.

It met with such a gracious reception (due princ.i.p.ally to private explanation beforehand) that Sister fairly squirmed with the blessedness of giving,--her first real experience of that sort. Brud used his hatchet to split a pine box into kindling, and presented the same, tied in neat bundles, to Mrs. Williams. Her surprise and voluble thanks (also solicited beforehand) were so gratifying that Brud came home so satisfied with the new application of the game that he burns to play it with everyone in Bauer, proving with actions, if not words, that he has a right to say, "We be of one blood, ye and I," and that he is _not_ a Banderlog.'"

As Joyce slipped the letter back into its envelope, Phil leaned forward to put another log on the fire, saying, as he did so, "Good for Mary!

She always manages to find some way out, and it is always a way no one else would think of. But somehow I can't quite place her in these letters. She's the same little bunch of energy that I've always known, and yet there's a difference. I can't quite make out what."

"She's growing up, I tell you," answered Joyce. "That's what makes the difference. Listen to this one:

"'Yesterday being Valentine's day, we had a picnic at the Council Rock.

The hill rises straight up from the public road, just back of the Mallory cottage and St. Peter's. There is a roundabout road to the top, leading in from a back lane, which is easy to climb, but, of course, the children chose the steep trail starting near their gate. Nothing but a goat could walk up it with perfect ease and safety.

"'Once at the top, the view is lovely. You can see over half the county, and look right down into the chimneys of the town. The whole hilltop is covered with wildflowers; strange, beautiful things I have never seen before--so many exquisite colors, you'd think a rainbow had been broken to bits and scattered over the ground.

"'At one o'clock we started out of the Mallory gate, the most grotesque procession that ever went down the pike of Bauer. You see, we'd dropped the Jungle game for the day, and they were doing St. Valentine honor. I went first in my oldest dress, on account of the climb, my Mexican hat on my head, my alarm-clock, as usual, in one hand and a thermos bottle in the other. I was taking some boiling water along to make them tea, as a great treat. They don't like it particularly, but they wanted to use a little j.a.panese tea-set that had just been sent to them.

"'Sister, fired by some of my descriptions of Valentine costumes, had elected to attend the picnic as the Queen of Hearts, and had dressed herself for the part with the a.s.sistance of Meliss. She looked perfectly ridiculous, spotted all over with turkey-red calico hearts. They were sewed on her dress, her hat, and even her black stockings. She was as badly broken out with them as a measles patient would have been with a red rash.

"'Brud wouldn't let her dike him out in the same way. She wanted him to go as Cupid. He consented to let her call him Cupid and he carried a bow and arrow, and wore some of the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, but he wore them in his own way. The white turkey-wings, which she tried to attach to his shoulderblades, he wore bound to his brow like an Indian chieftain's war-bonnet. Long-suffering Uncle August frisked about in a most remarkable costume. I think it must have been made of the top section of Brud's pajamas, with the sleeves pulled up over his front paws, and b.u.t.toned in the back. It was sprinkled with big hearts, some blue and some yellow.

"'But, funny as they looked, Meliss was the comic Valentine of the occasion. The front of her was covered with an old lace window curtain.

Across her bosom, carefully fastened with a gilt paper arrow, was the lithographed picture of a big red heart, as fat and red and shiny as a ripe tomato. She carried the lunch basket.

"'I must confess it staggered me a trifle when the procession came out to meet me, but they were so pleased with themselves I hadn't the heart to suggest a single change. I led on, hoping that we wouldn't meet anyone. Well, we hadn't gone a hundred paces till we heard hoof-beats, and a solitary horseman came riding along behind us. Brud looked back and then piped up in his shrill little voice:

"'"Oh, look, Miss Mayry! Look at the soldier man coming!"

"'Naturally, I glanced back, and my blood fairly ran cold, for there, riding along with a broad grin on his face at sight of our ridiculous turnout, was Lieutenant Boglin! I was so amazed at seeing him that I just stood still in the road and stared, feeling my face get redder and redder. Somehow I had no power to move. He didn't recognize me till he was opposite us, but the instant he did, he was off his horse and coming up to shake hands, and I was trying to account for our appearance. It seems he had been with the troops up at Leon Springs for target practice, and was taking a day off while they were breaking camp. He had been commissioned to look at a polo pony somebody had for sale in Bauer, and thought while he was about it he would call and see the Ware family, after he had had dinner at the hotel. He was on his way there.

"'Well, there I was! I couldn't ask him to go on such a babyfied lark as our Valentine picnic. I couldn't leave the children and take him over home, because my time is Mrs. Mallory's. Even if she had excused me, the children would have raised an unstoppable howl, and probably would have followed us. They are making grand strides in the courtesy business, but they are still far from being models of propriety.

"'When I had explained to the best of my ability, I told him I would be through at five, and asked him to wait and take supper with us. I could see that he was inwardly convulsed, and I do believe it was because we all looked so ridiculous and he wanted to see the show a second time that he accepted my invitation with alacrity. As soon as he started on to the Williams House, I stopped under a tree and wrote a scrawl to mamma on the margin of the newspaper that was spread on top of the lunch-basket. Then I gave Meliss a dime to run over home with it, so that the family needn't be taken by surprise if Bogey happened to get there before I did.

"'But it seems that he forgot the directions I gave him for finding the house, and about ten minutes to five, as the children and Meliss were finishing the lunch which was spread out on the Council Rock, he came climbing up the side of the hill. The children had been angelic before his arrival and they were good after he came, except--I can't explain it--there was something almost impish in the way they sat and watched us, listening to everything we said, as if they were committing it to memory to repeat afterward. Even Uncle August, in his heart-covered pajamas, squatted solemnly on the rock beside them and seemed to be stowing away something to remember.

"'The lieutenant couldn't glance in their direction without laughing out loud; they looked so utterly comical. So he turned his back on them and began to admire the view, which certainly was magnificent. As the sun began to go down the wind came up, and the veil I had tied around my hat got loose, and streamed out like a comet's tail. I couldn't tie it down and I couldn't find a pin to fasten it, and first thing I knew he had taken one of those fancy bronze pins from the collar of his uniform, those crossed guns that officers wear, you know, and he gave me that to fasten my veil with.

"'Now, there was nothing remarkable in that. Gay and Roberta have whole rows of such pins that different officers have given them. But Sister pointed her finger at me and shrilled out like a katydid, as if they had been discussing the subject before, "No, sir, Brud! You can't fool _me_!

He _is_ Miss Mayry's valentine. He's her _beau_!"

"'Unless you could have heard the elfish way she said it, you couldn't understand why it should have embarra.s.sed me so dreadfully. My face felt as hot as a fiery furnace. He sort of smiled and pretended not to hear, and I couldn't think of a word to break the awful pause. But just then the alarm-clock, hanging on a bush behind us, went off with a whang and clatter that sent us both springing to our feet.

"'They had finished their lunch by that time, so I helped Meliss hustle the dishes into the basket and headed the party for home as soon as possible. You can imagine the deep breath of thankfulness I drew when I finally left them at their own gate. But I drew it too soon. I should have waited until we were out of earshot. For as they went racing up the path to meet their mother, we could hear them shrieking to her about Miss Mayry's valentine beau who gave her two teeny, weeny guns to pin her veil with.

"'The wind wasn't blowing so hard down where we were then, so as we went along I said in a careless sort of way, "Oh,--'lest we forget'--I'll return this now," and started to take it out of my veil. But he only laughed and said, with such a mischievous glance, "No, keep it, 'Miss Mayry,' lest you forget--your valentine."

"'Fortunately, it was one of Jack's good days, and he was able to be out in the sitting-room, and the two took to each other at once. You know n.o.body can give people quite such a gentle, gracious reception as mamma can, and much as I had dreaded taking him into such a barely furnished little house, and serving him from our motley collection of dishes, I didn't mind it at all after she had made him welcome. Such things don't matter so much when you've a family you can be proud of.

"'We had a delicious supper, and he ate and ate, and said nothing had tasted so good since he left home years ago to enlist. He stayed till ten o'clock, and then went down to the livery stable to get his horse and ride back to camp by moonlight. We sat up for nearly an hour after he left, comparing notes on how we had enjoyed the evening, and talking over all he had said. Jack said it was like coming across a well in a thirsty desert to meet a fellow like that, and mamma said she was sure he had enjoyed his little taste of simple home life quite as much as we had enjoyed having him. He quite captivated her, especially when he asked permission to come again. Norman was so impressed that he has been talking ever since about the advantages of being an army man. As for me, I found him lots more interesting than he was the night of the hop, although I must say I'll always remember him as a sort of guardian angel that night, for being so kind and saving me from being a wall-flower.'"

There was a peculiar expression on Phil's face as Joyce laid down that letter.

"Do you know," he said, gravely, "I feel as if I'd been seeing the little Vicar grow up right under my very eyes. I'd never before thought of her as being old enough to have 'affairs,' but this seems to give promise of blossoming into one. Of course, it's what one might naturally expect, but somehow I can't quite get used to the idea, and--"

He did not finish the sentence aloud, but as he scowled into the fire, he added to himself, "_I don't like it_!"