Back at School with the Tucker Twins

Even though the oatmeal was frankly heated over and not heated much, we were to have good coffee. The rolls were pictures of rolls, which I glimpsed as the saucy girl whisked herself through the dining-room without so much as a glance in our direction. Coffee for the second floor front was not coffee for the third floor back. Claire brought some dismal second brew to us with skim milk of the same vintage we had had served to us for our oatmeal. There were rolls and rolls we also learned. Ours were hard and tough and weather beaten, looking as though they might have seen better days but even in the heydey of their youth they had never looked as did the ones sent to monsieur.

Dum had joined her faithful swain at the corner drug store. My mind is too full of German spy plots. That night at dinner we were on the alert for developments in the case. Grayson was as handsome as ever and as attentive to her neighbor who was quite as gallant. However he drew us into the conversation more and more as though determined that if we had come to the Maison Gaston to learn French he was going to help us to our goal.

The look he bent on us was kindly and fatherly. Our bed had been mended, so she informed us. She also told us that the hall room on the third floor was vacant and she had converted it into a small sitting room, where we could receive our guests. The star of the third floor back was in the ascendency evidently. After we went up to our room, little Claire brought us a package, which she said had come to us by special messenger.

I know it is candy and a five pounder! It was tied with many yards of ribbon and there was a box within a box. On the inside one there was a card:. On raising the lid, which opened up like a small trunk on hinges, a card was discovered on which was written the following message:. In the name of France I thank the young ladies in the third floor back. They have been of inestimable service to me in establishing the identity of the German spy, who I have been sure for some time is among us. I know they will be glad to learn that the papers stolen last night were nothing more than a decoy.

I guard more carefully the secrets of my beloved nation and even when I hear in the night the cries of beautiful damsels in distress I remember first the call of France and of her damsels and the Hun, who is many times more cruel than a folding bed. One service I am going to ask of the staunch allies of France: Watch carefully and report to me if you discover anything warranting suspicion.

I have two more in mind. Who besides this so-called Smith? Already I begin to have my suspicions. Your letters have given me the greatest pleasure. Next to being free in a great city myself is to have you there so you can tell me all about it. Catch all the spies you can and come home with your belt hanging full of scalps.

I wonder what your Cousin Park Garnett would say if she could know that you were mixed up in such things and I was aiding and abetting you. I think the little chancelor must be a pretty nice chap. Watch out for that Smith, though! I can bet on you girls to do him up in the open, but these Huns—well never mind about what we think of them. I only wish that the gentlemen in Washington would settle matters—but I am for them, whatever they are doing. I feel it must be right and the President will save the honor of the United States. We are jogging along much the same as usual here at Milton.

I am up early and out late trying to make all of my patients get through with their diseases so I can get off some time soon and come to New York with Jeff Tucker. The county has been trying itself in the baby line lately. I am sure the census taker will see a great difference in the population. All the babies are boys too, so Mammy Susan is sure we will be at war soon. She says that is a sure sign. I am thinking of having a flying machine built in the form of a stork.

Sally Winn is vastly pleased with herself at having rendered first aid to her cousin, that fine young Reginald Kent, in sending the address of you girls to him so he appeared on the scene on your very first evening in the metropolis. I tell her pish! But she persists in her prognostications. Sally smiled in a sly and most disagreeable manner. It was enough to make me want to put aloes in her heart drops. She keeps dinging at a thing so and thinks so much about it that I verily believe she brings it to pass.

Influence of mind over matter perhaps! Mammy Susan is furious that the French boarding housekeeper gives better coffee to the ones on the second floor than she does on the third. Mammy Susan is very lonesome for her little girl. The old woman is beginning to look quite feeble, but perhaps it is only that she is missing you. She watches for the mail like any girl parted from her lover. You must write to her oftener than you do to me. Of course she brings your letter to me to read and I get the benefit of them as well as she does, but she has the satisfaction of knowing they were meant for her.

The poor old woman is a little jealous even of your love for me. The dogs miss you too. I found Splutter the other day lying by the fire in the library hugging a raveled old red sweater of yours. Are you going to be able to stick it out at the Maison Gaston? I should hate it for myself. Of course you girls must judge for yourselves. What you tell me of your lectures is tremendously interesting.

I never told you that when I was a boy I quite contemplated following the fiction muse for a profession. It was a tug between medicine and magazines, but the living was sure from medicine and very uncertain from magazines and there was your dear little mother who was tugging at my heart strings and unconsciously threw herself on the side of medicine and the life of a country doctor.

I have never regretted my choice, but I am still interested in how the apple gets in the dumpling of literature. Tucker and I have no idea when we will come on to New York, but we might surprise you by walking in on you any day in the next two months. Tell her that is a good joke, but I am sorry to tell her I have seen it before in some comic paper.

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My love to the twins. What have I run you up against? And I thought I was being so clever too! In fact I was being so clever—How could I know that the preacher was going to recommend such an old skin? How can she be French? I believe she is a Hun in disguise. But surely she cannot know of the perfidious nature of the wife of the ball player, who sounds like a decent chap himself.

The man with the red lips—watch out for him. He sounds dangerous to me. Has anyone ever discovered why Germans have such red, red mouths? Sucking the blood of other nations? Right you are—go up head! When will Wilson and the leisurely gentlemen in Washington let us get in the game? I am upholding the administration with all my might, with tongue and pen, but sometimes I find myself wanting to bust out in cries of impatience. When we do get in God grant that every blue-blooded American, man and woman, will do his or her part. I am missing my girls worse and more than usual it seems to me. I am almost sorry I am such a liberal minded parent.

How nice it would be if I were one of these old-fashioned fathers who thought his daughters belong to him heart and soul and body, and all they wanted on earth was to administer to his wants. Then you would have to stay home all the time and sew seams and preserve fruit. I wonder how you would like that. I know one person who would like that arrangement, that is poor Brindle. He has no patience with this new woman business. Really poor old Brindle is in a bad way. I have not the proper spirit about poor Brindle.

I am frank to confess that I am ashamed to take him walking by daylight. I am going to get some false whiskers and disguise myself so that I can do my duty by Brindle. He is such a snorter and snuffler and panter. He will lie down so many times when one is trying to take him walking and insists upon going up so many alleys and in so many back yards. What do you say, Deedle dumpling, to my sending Brindle out to the country to some quiet pleasant boarding place? There he could spend his declining and reclining years.

It would be happier for him. I could find a place where they would make him little puddings and things and where they would let him sleep under a mosquito bar so the flies would not worry him. Think about it honey. Allison and I are going to New York as soon as we can get a respite from babies and extras.

Give my love to Page and ask her to write to me. Let me know by return mail your ultimatum concerning Brindle. We had come in after a strenuous day of study and adventure. All days in New York seemed full of adventure and now that we were in swing with our lectures most of them were also full of study. While I read mine from father the girls read theirs from Zebedee.

Then I read extracts of mine to them and then Dee read all of theirs to me. Brindle would be much prettier mashed out nice and smooth. She was ever touchy about her beloved pet and it was the one thing on earth she could see no joke in. Brindle was a serious matter to Dee. He is so human. Grayson keeps in her room. If it must be done, the sooner the better was their motto.

We had been at Maison Gaston two weeks and we felt that Madame Gaston had a different feeling towards us from the one of disdain she had evinced for us on our arrival. Perhaps it was owing to M. Durand, who never lost a chance to be attentive and kind to us. We thought from her change of manner that he must have had a talk with her. Grayson too seemed to be trying to make us like her. It was with difficulty that we concealed our feelings concerning that handsome lady.

Dee well knew that the way for us to serve M. Durand and France was to keep her in ignorance of what we knew of her relations to Germany. It was hard on us to have to see her exercising her blandishments on M. Durand and then to include us when we felt like shouting from the house tops: Smith was quiet and unassuming. If it had not been for his over red lips we might almost have liked him. I set myself to watch him, trying to find out if he and Mrs. Grayson were in partnership in their villainy.

Never once did they glance towards each other. I began to feel we had been mistaken in our surmise. He perhaps was just what he said he was: The listening legs I had seen the first evening may have meant nothing at all. He may have been lonesome, poor fellow! Dee approached Madame Gaston with her accustomed tact. Gradually she led up to Brindle. How she adored him! What a well bred beast he was! Before Madame Gaston knew where she was standing, Dee had got her consent to bring Brindle into the exclusive circles of Maison Gaston, and she immediately flew to the telegraph station to wire Zebedee to send on her beloved pet.

She was afraid the landlady might change her mind if she did not clinch the matter. Of course, I am fond of Brindle in a way myself, but I do think he is, after all, nothing but a dog and a mighty snuffy old dog at that. Tucker did know enough not to send the dog on to New York he did not make use of his wisdom. No doubt an old bull dog who must be exercised and hates to walk would be a great nuisance to an active man like Zebedee.

I know I always hated to have to exercise him and nothing but my extreme regard for his mistress would have reconciled me to appearing on the streets of New York with the puffing, panting, wheezing, snuffling beast. I love dogs too, love all animals that are supposed to be loved, but Brindle was certainly far from attractive. About the only attractive thing about him was his affection for Dee.

He would stand and gaze into her face, tears streaming from his stewed prunes eyes and his little excuse for a tail, so ingrown in folds of flesh that it was hardly visible, wagging violently. The poor old dog was tired and stiff from his journey, but he followed Dee around like her shadow and when she sat down came and devoured her with his loving gaze.

Little Claire is going to let him stay down in the back yard when it is fine weather. Brindle came and licked my hand as though he too felt relieved that when he went crawling all of us would go along. It was the strong pungent bull dog smell that no amount of bathing could overcome, but we loved Dee enough to be willing to put up with a goat in the room if she should so ordain. With plenty of air at night we hope to be able to stand the odoriferous Brindle.

It was the precious half hour that madame allowed her boarders to converse together in her prized parlor and M. Durand had gallantly seated us on the sofa and placed himself in a chair facing us. He spoke in a whisper but anyone who cared to hear him might have done so as his whisper was decidedly a stage whisper. He is something of an inventor I believe. Grayson moved over closer to our group, although she was deep in a conversation with one of the bloodless art students.

He held out to Dee a square envelope which had not been sealed. Perhaps mademoiselle would enclose this in a letter to her father and he would then forward it to M. That is not convenable, to seal a letter entrusted to the kindness of another. It is most important to my country that M. Trouville should get that letter and his address has been mislaid, but I am sure France can trust you and your father without the insult of sealing the epistle. Grayson was pretending to hold with the art student.

It was so silly and she seemed just as busy trying to fascinate him as she usually was the chancelor. Behind the sofa Mr. Smith was engaged in a mild flirtation with Yvonne, who seemed to be much interested in the owner of the red, red lips. Grayson, breaking into the conversation a little abruptly. I could not help seeing that Mr.

He was carrying on a desultory conversation with one of the spinsters. His expression was that of a baseball player who has a ball pitched to him that he was not expecting. His training on the diamond served him well. As I arose from my seat on the long sofa I caught midway a glance from Mrs. She had never paid any attention to him before, ignoring him with an almost studied insolence.

The look she gave him was a peculiar one, long and steady. He bowed his head slightly. It was a foolish mistake. I am sorry you cannot join us. We must be going, young ladies. I am sorry my husband will have to be sole cavalier for four ladies. We assured her that cavaliers were nothing to us, quite grateful in our hearts that Mr.

Smith had not accepted the invitation. Of course we did not like Mrs. Grayson much, not at all in fact. We had reason to believe she was a German spy, but then M. Durand was still friendly in his attitude towards her and we must do as he had told us and not let her know we were on to her machinations.

A show was a show and the Hippodrome was running a most entrancing one, according to the papers. Nobody living but me can find anything in that maelstrom. The show was good and we had a delightful time. It was my good fortune to sit by Mr. Grayson who proved to be a most agreeable companion. He was well educated, a college graduate and such a gentleman that one wondered he had married such a person as his wife, who by her bizarre dressing and loud voice showed herself to be anything but a lady.

She talked for the benefit of persons sitting before and behind us at the theatre and turned and twisted her handsome head with the evident desire of showing off. I glanced at Mr. Grayson to see how he liked it, but his calm, well bred young countenance told no tales. Either he was so much in love with his handsome wife that he was blind to her behavior or he was too much of a gentleman to show what he really felt.

After the show Mrs. Dee protested, remembering the letter she wanted to get off, but our hostess was so persistent that we were forced to comply to her demands. At supper she did much loud talking, using many French words as though anxious to let every one know that she was Parisienne. It was a quarter to one as we opened the door at Maison Gaston and after thanking the Graysons with all the insincerity we could muster, we climbed the stairs to the third floor back.

I know he has been lonesome. We had left a finger of gas burning, but through a crack in the door a streak of bright light fell across the dark hall. It struck me as strange. As we opened wide the door a strange sight met our gaze. Smith, on all fours, his face deadly pale and his long legs actually trembling with fear was held at bay in a corner of the room by old Brindle.

Brindle was protecting the property of his beloved mistress. There was no telling and we never will know how long the despicable Smith had been kept in the undignified position in which we discovered him. The chances were that he had entered the room sometime before as he wanted to find what he came for before we would be returning from the theatre.

Of course he knew that Mrs. Grayson would insist on the mid-night feast and that we would not be home in time to catch the mail as Dee had planned to do. Everything favored him except the old dog. If it had not been for Brindle he could have made an exhaustive search of our room without being disturbed. Brindle did not laugh however, he continued his low growling, like distant thunder, and the hair bristled on his back and neck like the quills of a porcupine.

On this letter Brindle had planted one determined paw. That letter was evidently what Smith wanted. I slipped quietly out and called down the stairs for Mr. I knew he would be ready and willing to come to our assistance. His door opened immediately as did also M. That gentleman was attired in his gorgeous flowered dressing gown. So quickly did he appear that one might have fancied he was waiting for a summons. Brindle still held Smith on his knees. When he attempted the slightest movement the old dog growled ominously and the intruder cowered among the collars and belts and ribbons. Durand only smiled a whimsical smile and said nothing.

Grayson, taking in the scene. What is the trouble? Dee at last relented and called Brindle to her. He came reluctantly, backing away from the scene of his triumph, his eye still sternly fixed on the culprit and a growl in his throat. Smith arose from his tired knees, evidently a little stiff from the enforced posture which must have been endured for many unhappy minutes perhaps hours.

The drawer was on the floor with its contents in the present disarray. See if everything is safe, Miss Tucker. I think you should be quite grateful to Mr. Smith, for coming in the nick of time. I hope none of your little treasures have been taken. Grayson could make Sarah Bernhardt feel like a bread-and-butter school girl if she wanted to I am sure. Then she had made us feel almost grown-up. Grayson scrambled to her feet in a manner not befitting a leading emotional actress.

Such a look of hatred as Mrs. Grayson bent on Brindle I have never beheld. It must have been the look she saved up for the lines when she acted Lady Macbeth: He had got in his head by some dog reasoning that he was to keep everybody away from that tumbled up drawer and especially from that square, white envelope. Dee remembered in time that she had but lately accepted the hospitality of that lady and so did not give vent to the feelings that were boiling within her bosom. Dum was not so polite and spoke up boldly.

At these words what did the noted emotional actress do but fall over in a dead faint. She did it gracefully and without noise and fuss. Even Brindle was nonplussed and went over in the corner where Dee had made up his bed before going to the show. We went to work on the fainting lady in a most professional way. I knew from the first that she was shamming, but to be certain I put my fingers on her eyelids and gently rolled them back.

And my, but there was hatred in it! I have tried that trick before on persons who were feigning unconsciousness and it always made them angry. Dee however went stolidly on with her first aid methods with the help of the husband, while Dum raced to the bathroom for water. Grayson decided to get over her spell without the aid of the cold water that would certainly have been dashed in her face.

She sat up rubbed her eyes in the most approved fashion of melodrama and then lay down again, this time on top of the pile of ribbons and collars and what not. Her hand quite without guidance, seemingly, fumbled among the collars and belts for the white envelope. I stooped down and quietly took it from her eager fingers and placed it safely in my blouse. With that she evidently gave up the ghost and deemed it best to recover and go to her room.

Such a look of venom, though, as she treated me to. I thought he looked rather glum. I wondered if he too knew that his handsome wife had treated us to a bit of play acting. I could tear him limb from limb. The idea of his calling Brindle a brute! Brindle, a prince of dogs. He should have the croix de guerre. I am going to tell that to our friend down stairs.

Smith came in late to dinner and evidently had not heard of the arrival of Brindle. So much the more does he deserve recognition from our country. And now let me tell the dear mademoiselles a little secret: I knew all the time both Madame Grayson and the long legged Smith were listening to my conversation down in the parlor this evening. It is written in cipher and when it is deciphered would tell nothing except that it looks like rain in New York and my address is West 53rd Street.

I felt sure by this decoy we would catch the other spy. I heard Smith go to your room and knew he was still there. What kept him of course I could not tell, but I was waiting for you to come home. I only wanted to be sure who was the second one. Grayson look at Smith when she asked us to go to the Hippodrome and I also saw him bow his head slightly. These Germans are bungling at best.

Ah, if your country had only declared itself for the Allies we would have these two where they could do no damage. With many protestations of gratitude and a final pat for Brindle our chancelor took himself off. The next morning Brindle was undoubtedly ill. His breathing was even heavier than usual and he made no attempt to get out of his bed. Brindle put out a feeble tongue and tried to lick her hand, but even that was too much for him and he shut his eyes with his tongue sticking out in a droll way.

Brindle might need me. We can carry him down in the yard and let him lie on his mat in the sun. He would understand I know. We took her up a tray, feeling in a time of distress that she should be bolstered up with food. Madame Gaston was rather stiff with us, blaming us for the hasty departure of the long legged Smith.

Yvonne was insolent in her bearing, bringing in the luke warm oatmeal with her pert little nose up in the air and as she put the bowls on the table had quite the expression of gladly administering cold poison to us. I wondered if the seemingly mild flirtation she was carrying on with the departed boarder had been taken seriously by the girl. I felt sorry for her. Her eyelids were red with weeping.

Durand told her and her mother? Did they realize that they had been harboring an enemy to their country and to the country of their star boarder? I felt pretty sure the chancelor had not divulged the perfidy of Mrs. She was doing no harm so long as he had his eye on her and the wise little gentleman was determined to keep her in sight, letting her find just enough seemingly important papers and plans and drawings to make her think she was serving her master, the Kaiser, and hoodwinking the agent of France.

We hated to leave Dee alone with the sick dog, but leave her we must. Dum and I smiled but we did not let her see us. This was a very serious matter to poor Dee. She loved her dog with a love that no one who has not had a dog and loved him could understand. I had sat by the death bed of many a dog at Bracken and I could sympathize with the poor girl. I knew just what her agony of mind was. I was almost afraid to leave her, thinking perhaps the old fellow would pass away in our absence and Dee would have to face it alone, but an important lecture was on for that morning and I could not well afford to miss it.

Dum and I came back home early. The old dog was still breathing and occasionally he opened his eyes and bent a loving gaze on his broken-hearted mistress. I knew if Dee caught me smiling at such a time she would never forgive me. Down stairs I flew, determined to bring back a doctor of human beings even if I had to conceal from him the fact that his visit was to a dog.

Just as I started out the front door the bell rang. I bumped into a young man, in fact almost knocked him down the steps in my haste. Come with me immediately!

Back at School with the Tucker Twins (Paperback)

I was just going to hunt for you! We were at the top of the stairs by this time and I had no time to set young Dr. White straight as to who his patient was. I ushered him into the room without ceremony. Dum almost hugged him, she was so glad to see him. He is dying we are afraid. I am glad you are not ill, Dee. White was quite serious and sympathetic as he bent over the poor old dog. I believe I never liked him so much in all my acquaintance with him as I did when he took over the case of Brindle. Stephen White had been in a measure an irritation to me ever since the night of the hop at Willoughby Beach, several years before, when he had made violent and foolish love to me on the very first time in my life that I had tucked up my hair.

He had persisted in this notion that he adored me although I knew perfectly well that it was nothing but stubbornness on his part. If he did adore me he took strange ways of showing it. He usually managed to row with me before he had been in my presence five minutes. He was so clever and so charming to other persons that I resented very much his grouchiness when with me.

I liked him very much. Would have asked nothing better than to have him for a friend, but whenever I suggested such a thing he would go off into a tantrum and tirade about love or nothing and then I would get furious and declare it would be nothing. Dee and Stephen, or Wink as we called him, were the best of friends. They always had much to talk about and were absolutely congenial. Stephen was a good looking young man and certainly the cleverest youth of our acquaintance.

He had stood high at the University, bearing off honors galore. Now he was to be in New York in one of the large hospitals, having through his ability been appointed as interne. When I saw the young physician bend over Brindle I knew he would be a good doctor and a popular one. The sick room manner is a gift of the Gods. Then we told him of the man in our room the night before.

The doctor was sure that the long strain Brindle had been on while he held the spy at bay had been too much for his old heart. He took from his pocket a small leather case containing a hyperdermic syringe and various vials of drugs. With tenderness and adroitness he had soon administered a hyperdermic of morphine to the suffering canine. Dee turned away her head and then when it was accomplished she gazed long and lovingly into the eyes of her pet.

She realized that the faint consciousness still discernable in those damson preserves orbs would soon be gone forever. I fancied poor Brindle knew the end was near too. He raised his head a bit by a superhuman effort Here am I using the word superhuman in connection with the dog and doing it quite naturally. But Brindle was human and why not superhuman? The young doctor looked at her sadly.

His manner was so sympathetic and his eyes were so kind that I felt myself liking him more than I dreamed I could. He sounded a little like my own beloved father when he found it necessary to tell disagreeable truths to his over hopeful patients. What a help Stephen White would be to my father if he would decide to settle at Milton! Father had been hunting for an assistant, one on whom his mantel could descend when he wanted to give up practice. I knew perfectly well that if I could make up my mind to be a little bit kind to Stephen that he would settle at Milton. He loved the country and was quite seriously considering entering on the career of a country doctor.

Could I be kind? Was I selfish in persisting in a certain hardness that I always showed to young Dr. If he only would not be so soft where I was concerned, so soft and so grouchy! Just leave that to him. It was almost sunset when I made my way to the nearest telegraph station and sent the following message to Mr. I was quite proud of getting the message in ten words. I sent it to the newspaper office in Richmond, feeling sure he would get it before he knocked off work. I did not tell him not to come as I felt in my heart it would be better for Dee if he should come.

I was afraid she had a feeling that the old doggy should not have been sent on this trip to New York and would blame her father somewhat for being willing and eager to shift the care of Brindle to her shoulders. A stiff form in the corner covered with a bath towel told the story to me. Poor Brindle had passed away. In an incredibly short time an answer to my telegram was delivered, but then newspaper men seem to be able to pull wires when the time demands it, even telegraph wires.

The above poem was written by Stephen White. I did not know it was in him. Of course all of us were aware of the fact that Stephen was clever, but how clever we had not grasped. I knew he could turn out a limerick with the best of us, but a sonnet was a different matter. I really think the poem comforted Dee even more than the first class funeral her father consented to give the departed pet.

Zebedee arrived on the morning train.

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His taxi buzzing at the door was a welcome sound to my tired ears and his genial, handsome face a more welcome sight to my eyes that were big and dry for lack of sleep. You look as though you had been through the mill! I had run downstairs to let him in when I heard the taxi buzzing. Dee was still asleep, the powders having been most effective, but Dum was up and in her kimona ready to greet her beloved Zebedee. Dee was so glad to have him and Stephen says he had a tendency to apoplexy and might have gone off at any moment, anyhow, and Dee takes great comfort in having been by his death bed and able to hold his paw to the end.

I could not help smiling but there was not a single answering gleam in the eyes of either father or daughter. I turned away quickly to hide my tell-tale grin. I was sorry Brindle was dead, sorry for Dee and sorry for Zebedee, who no doubt was reproaching himself for having in a measure rebelled at caring for the old dog who certainly had become a nuisance, but for the life of me I could not help wanting to laugh at the solemnity of the Tuckers. Will you go with me Page, while Dum gets dressed?

Zebedee always knew how to find things and persons. He had an address of a man whose business was cat and dog funerals and the waiting taxi soon landed us there. Arrangements were quickly made. Simple elegance was decided on as best suited to the high-bred dog. The man looked at me sadly as though I had no feeling and he wished I had stayed at home, but his customer agreed with me so we settled on a nice neat grey dog coffin, lined with horizon blue, because Zebedee remembered that Brindle liked that color blue in an especial rug he favored for sleeping purposes.

A large roomy limousine was ordered and we decided to carry the coffin on our knees although Flop-Ears whiningly informed us that the better classes always had a hearse. A small plot was purchased in the dog burying ground and arrangements were completed for the funeral to come off at eleven. We got back to Fifty-third street in time for breakfast for which I was very grateful, as I had that gone feeling that is sure to come after a sleepless night.

I can well understand the necessity of funeral baked meats after the experience of sitting up with poor Brindle. Madame Gaston of course fell to the charms of Zebedee. His manner was so genial, his disposition so sweet, his voice so cheery. In spite of the sad mission he was on he could not help breaking out occasionally in some bit of fun, and the landlady and both daughters came into the dining-room many times during that breakfast which had been bolstered up in honor of Mr.

Tucker with a fresh pot of good coffee and hot buttered toast. At eleven sharp we started on the memorable ride to the dog cemetery. Brindle had been tenderly placed in his handsome grey coffin with the horizon blue lining. Quite handsome and noble, he looked like a bronze statue of a dead dog. Stephen White came bearing a bunch of chrysanthemums and the sonnet written in honor of the occasion. Durand sent a design of immortelles which is what the French use on graves and with it a note of condolence in which he said fine things of our noble Brindle.

In our secret hearts I am afraid we did enjoy it; I know I did. It was fine crisp autumn weather when New York is at its best. New York can be the most disagreeable and unfriendly place on the globe and it can be the most delightful. Our limousine being the entire funeral procession with no laggards we could go as fast as the chauffeur chose and he chose to put on speed to the limit, so great in fact that we were afraid of getting pulled.

Flop-Ears sat on the front seat and his dejected back was a silent protest to the high spirits that would arise in my bosom. She had taken on an expression she deemed fitting for the occasion and was exerting all efforts to retain it until the funeral was over.

Her father was laboring in the same way. His eyes were shining, but his mouth was very solemn. Stephen was bubbling over with kindness and anxiety to please. I felt myself liking Stephen White more and more. His manner to me was so much more sensible. Not once in all that long ride did he look at me like a dying calf nor did he get miffed with me about imaginary slights.

He talked charmingly and intelligently and I found myself entering into the conversation with my usual vivacity. On all occasions hitherto when Stephen White had been in the party, I had been made more or less uncomfortable by his absurd attentions to me. As a rule we quarreled and disagreed. On that funeral ride we conversed amicably and actually agreed on many subjects and when we disagreed it was as ladies and gentlemen disagree, not as cats and dogs. Poor Dee had covered her sad face with a black veil borrowed from Madame Gaston. I know she deeply regretted that her suit was blue.

If she had not been afraid of ridicule I am sure she would have put on mourning for her pet. However, she contented herself with the veil and a black ribbon band tied around her left arm. The dog cemetery was like any other in that some graves were cared for and others neglected; some marked by imposing stones, others only tiny grassy mounds.

Epitaphs of all kinds were carved on the stones and I am sure they told the truth in their eulogies more than is usually the case in cemeteries. The grave was already dug and the coffin was quietly lowered by Stephen and Zebedee. Flop-Ears filled it in and patted it down with great precision. Dee bore up wonderfully well. I really believe she began to realize that poor Brindle was better off than he would have been dragging out a miserable snuffling existence at Maison Gaston.

Page please untie my veil and Dum help me get this band off. I am not going to mourn and I would not have him back. I am glad he was taken away as he was. I almost feel as though I had helped the Allies in some way by owning such a dog. The day was too perfect to be grieving and since poor Brindle was better off why not have a pleasant time on this his day in New York. Back to New York we sped, a much merrier party than had hied forth earlier in the day. Now that Dee had decided to be cheerful she was being it with great success. Read it, read it! We had a wonderful time on that day in New York.

Zebedee had to take the night train to Richmond so we crowded in everything we could in the few short hours that remained to him of the metropolis. We lunched at one delightful place and dined at another and took in a matinee and a movie in between. At luncheon we met Reginald Kent. It was at a little hole-in-the-wall on Tenth Street, a place to which he had introduced us where much choice, strange food was served at a minimum price. A great sigh which he heaved gave me to understand he had. He did not like to see his girls growing up and blushing over handsome young commercial artists.

His manner to Reginald was perfect however and he greeted the young man with his accustomed cordiality although I could see it cost him an effort. As there were three females and only two males in the party one could easily see he would not be too many, but just balance the sexes. Again Dum blushed and again her father looked grim.

I realized that it was absurd for me to pretend I did not know that Mr. Tucker was speaking of the affair between his daughter Virginia and Reginald Kent. I always did know what he was talking about and very often what he was thinking about and he seemed to have an uncanny insight into my think tank as well. I have let my girls come on this mad adventure just because you were along and now you must be quite frank with me about them.

You are years older in practical sense. Why, honey child, you are older than I am. Well now, Grandma, tell me what you think of Dum and this young Kent. Dee and Stephen White had paired off quite naturally and as usual were having a good time together.

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He had been so kind about poor Brindle and his manner with Dee still smacked of the sick-room. I had noticed at luncheon how tenderly he had helped her to hashed-browned potatoes and how solicitous he had been in choosing the fluffiest and most delectable French pastry on the tray, as though to comfort her in her bereavement. He had done no such thing, but the thought of ordering pancakes for a wedding breakfast for one of his beloved twins had been too much for his lachrymal ducts.

Tucker was contemplating matrimony himself at some remote period. It was a terrible thing to contemplate. No doubt he was lonely. The girls were away from home much of the time and he had no home life to speak of. I almost wish they would hurry up so I can get to work myself.

Suppose I choose and then some lucky dog who is foot loose has stepped in and got my little girl. You see you are—you are such a good friend to my girls and if you—if you kind of approve maybe they will see fit to behave themselves when—when I break it to them that—that I am head over heels in love. He came out with this announcement so suddenly that I gasped. I felt myself turning pale and my lip trembled, but I bravely swallowed and pulled myself together. It thumped against my side as though I had just run a race up hill.

I turned my face away from the steady gaze he bent on me. Tired out from a day filled to the brim with emotions we at last arrived at Maison Gaston. The twins were always blue after telling their father goodbye and my spirits were the color of indigo on that night. My soul was filled with pity for the girls who no doubt would soon have to do the polite to some step-mother or other. Did they guess it or were they in blissful ignorance of the fact that their youthful parent was contemplating a second wife?

As for my own feelings: I would not let myself think how much I hated it. Every time the realization would strike me anew I would shove it away and keep on saying: Our room at Maison Gaston had never seemed so forlorn and unattractive as it did on that night. According to the custom of madame, the house had been hermetically sealed all day and the close musty odor was sickening to the three tired girls who wearily climbed to the third floor back.

Brindle had passed away but one could still perceive him through one of the senses as we opened the door to our dark room. Of course his bed was still in the corner and that would retain the strong doggy smell forever. Dum and I silently agreed with her. Never had the abominable folding beds creaked so dismally as on that restless night.

Not having slept for thirty-six hours one would think that as soon as my head touched the pillow I would have been off to Shuteye Town, but no such luck! I tossed and turned on my narrow couch while the grand big bed sounded like a threshing machine. Somehow I keep hearing Brindle scratching and whining. I knew perfectly well it was the smell of Brindle that was suggesting all those other things to his mistress, but delicacy forbade my saying so.

Nothing is so potent in suggestion as the sense of smell. Sight and hearing cannot do what smelling can. I know a whiff of honeysuckle will transport me to the porch at Bracken in a twinkling and a suggestion of wood smoke and warm leather and I am back in the library at home, curled up in one of the old sleepy-hollow chairs.

I simply hate it here with Yvonne snipping around; and old Madame Gaston always rubbing it in that we are third-floor backers; and Mrs. We passed it yesterday on our way from lunch. He says some girls he knows had it and have left for work overseas. It is all furnished too and for rent cheap. And my father said all the time he doubted our sticking to it. The only regret I have is leaving the dear chancelor. He will miss us I am sure. Would the twins be reposing or trying to repose if they knew their beloved father was head-over-heels in love with some horrid designing female?

Regular breathing from the big bed soon gave me to understand that the poor girls were asleep, but my bed seemed to be made of thistles. Who could it be? What girl did I know who was likely to have captured the heart of Mr. But she was certainly higher than his heart. She really overtopped the gay widower an inch or so. What a name to be giving my dear friend. He was my dear friend and he might marry even Mabel Binks and remain my dear friend. I could not expect him to live in eternal singleness just on account of me—certainly not on my account if he did not on his daughters.

After this decision I turned over with one more creak and went to sleep. I dreamed Mabel Binks was the one and I was flower girl at the wedding and the hateful thing called me little one and made me feel as small as possible. I had on short dresses with socks and funny little strap slippers and my legs were very cold, but not so cold as my heart. I awakened to find all my covers on the floor, which was a way my couch had of doing unless I lay very quietly.

No wonder I was cold. The morning brought three special delivery letters to us. Of course I never knew what he had to say to the twins in those letters received that morning, but mine took a load off my heart and gave me spunk to do the many things that I had planned to do on that day. He had written the letters as soon as he got on the train and mailed them at Newark. Vacation with the Tucker Twins. A House Party with the Tucker Twins. Tripping with the Tucker Twins. At Boarding School with the Tucker Twins. Molly Brown's Junior Days.

Back at School With the Tucker Twins by Nell Speed

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