“But, Miss Drake, I …”
“If you think the terms a little too onerous I feel sure I can make a special arrangement for you, being a schoolteacher … six a month instead of eight. You simply can’t refuse an offer like that, Miss Shirley.”
Anne almost felt she couldn’t. Wouldn’t it be worth six dollars a month to get rid of this terrible woman who had so evidently made up her mind not to go until she had got an order? Besides, what were the twins doing? They were alarmingly quiet. Suppose they were sailing their boats in the bathtub. Or had sneaked out of the back door and gone wading in the pond.
She made one more pitiful effort to escape.
“I’ll think this over, Miss Drake, and let you know …”
“There’s no time like the present,” said Miss Drake, briskly getting out her fountain-pen. “You know you’re going to take the National, so you might just as well sign for it now as any other time. Nothing is ever gained by putting things off. The price may go up any moment and then you’d have to pay a hundred and twenty. Sign here, Miss Shirley.”
Anne felt the fountain-pen being forced into her hand … another moment … and then there was such a bloodcurdling shriek from Miss Drake that Anne dropped the fountain-pen under the clump of golden glow that flanked the rustic seat, and gazed in amazed horror at her companion.
Was that Miss Drake … that indescribable object, hatless, spectacleless, almost hairless? Hat, spectacles, false front were floating in the air above her head halfway up to the bathroom window, out of which two golden heads were hanging. Gerald was grasping a fishing-rod to which were tied two cords ending in fish-hooks. By what magic he had contrived to make a triple catch, only he could have told. Probably it was sheer luck.
Anne flew into the house and upstairs. By the time she reached the bathroom the twins had fled. Gerald had dropped the fishing-rod and a peep from the window revealed a furious Miss Drake retrieving her belongings, including the fountain-pen, and marching to the gate. For once in her life Miss Pamela Drake had failed to land her order.
Anne discovered the twins seraphically eating apples on the back porch. It was hard to know what to do. Certainly, such behavior could not be allowed to pass without a rebuke … but Gerald had undoubtedly rescued her from a difficult position and Miss Drake was an odious creature who needed a lesson. Still …
“You’ve et a great big worm!” shrieked Gerald. “I saw it disappear down your throat.”
Geraldine laid down her apple and promptly turned sick … very sick. Anne had her hands full for some time. And when Geraldine was better, it was lunch-hour and Anne suddenly decided to let Gerald off with a very mild reproof. After all, no lasting harm had been done Miss Drake, who would probably hold her tongue religiously about the incident for her own sake.
“Do you think, Gerald,” she said gently, “that what you did was a gentlemanly action?”
“Nope,” said Gerald, “but it was good fun. Gee, I’m some fisherman, ain’t I?”
The lunch was excellent. Mrs. Raymond had prepared it before she left and whatever her shortcomings as a disciplinarian might be, she was a good cook. Gerald and Geraldine, being occupied with gorging, did not quarrel or display worse table manners than the general run of children. After lunch Anne washed the dishes, getting Geraldine to help dry them and Gerald to put them carefully away in the cupboard. They were both quite knacky at it and Anne reflected complacently that all they needed was wise training and a little firmness.
Chapter III
At two o’clock Mr. James Grand called. Mr. Grand was the chairman of the High School board of trustees and had matters of importance to talk of, which he wished to discuss fully before he left on Monday to attend an educational conference in Kingsport. Could he come to Windy Poplars in the evening? asked Anne. Unfortunately he couldn’t.
Mr. Grand was a good sort of man in his own fashion, but Anne had long ago found out that he must be handled with gloves. Moreover, Anne was very anxious to get him on her side in a battle royal over new equipment that was looming up. She went out to the twins.
“Darlings, will you play nicely out in the back yard while I have a little talk with Mr. Grand? I won’t be very long … and then we’ll have an afternoon-tea picnic on the banks of the pond … and I’ll teach you to blow soap-bubbles with red dye in them … the loveliest things!”
“Will you give us a quarter apiece if we behave?” demanded Gerald.
“No, Gerald dear,” said Anne firmly, “I’m not going to bribe you. I know you are going to be good, just because I ask you, as a gentleman should.”
“We’ll be good, Miss Shirley,” promised Gerald solemnly.
“Awful good,” echoed Geraldine, with equal solemnity.
It is possible they would have kept their promise if Ivy Trent had not arrived almost as soon as Anne was closeted with Mr. Grand in the parlor. But Ivy Trent did arrive and the Raymond twins hated Ivy Trent … the impeccable Ivy Trent who never did anything wrong and always looked as if she had just stepped out of a bandbox.
On this particular afternoon there was no doubt that Ivy Trent had come over to show off her beautiful new brown boots and her sash and shoulder bows and hair bows of scarlet ribbon. Mrs. Raymond, whatever she lacked in some respects, had fairly sensible ideas about dressing children. Her charitable neighbors said she put so much money on herself that she had none to spend on the twins … and Geraldine never had a chance to parade the street in the style of Ivy Trent, who had a dress for every afternoon in the week. Mrs. Trent always arrayed her in “spotless white.” At least. Ivy was always spotless when she left home. If she were not quite so spotless when she returned that, of course, was the fault of the “jealous” children with whom the neighborhood abounded.
Geraldine was jealous. She longed for scarlet sash and shoulder bows and white embroidered dresses. What would she not have given for buttoned brown boots like those?
“How do you like my new sash and shoulder bows?” asked Ivy proudly.
“How do you like my new sash and shoulder bows?” mimicked Geraldine tauntingly.
“But you haven’t got shoulder bows,” said Ivy grandly.
“But you haven’t got shoulder bows,” squeaked Geraldine.
Ivy looked puzzled.
“I have so. Can’t you see them?”
“I have so. Can’t you see them?” mocked Geraldine, very happy in this brilliant idea of repeating everything Ivy said scornfully.
“They ain’t paid for,” said Gerald.
Ivy Trent had a temper. It showed itself in her face, which grew as red as her shoulder bows.
“They are, too. My mother always pays her bills.”
“My mother always pays her bills,” chanted Geraldine.
Ivy was uncomfortable. She didn’t know exactly how to cope with this. So she turned to Gerald, who was undoubtedly the handsomest boy on the street. Ivy had made up her mind about him.
“I came over to tell you I’m going to have you for my beau,” she said, looking eloquently at him out of a pair of brown eyes that, even at seven, Ivy had learned had a devastating effect on most