“If your majesty thinks Betty and I are going to let you and Frisky take all the care of Nanno, you’re mightily mistaken,” said Cecily, when the adoption of Nanno Donohoe had been agreed upon. “We’ll do half the work, won’t we, Betsy? She’s going to be the Silver Sword baby just as much as the Camp Baby, isn’t she?”
“Oh, yes, I suppose we’ll have to help along,” said Betty lazily. “We’re in for it now! But you won’t catch Frisk doing anything except teach her monkey-shines,—I can tell you that!”
In the afternoon, while the Mouse was listening to a severe lecture from Fräulein Bunsen, Nancy dispatched a letter to her aunt, endorsing the invitation, and two days later Jean and Frances received a note containing thanks that came straight from Miss Newcomb’s grateful heart. On the following Tuesday, the deaconess said, she and her little charge would reach Crystal Lake Junction, and before going on to Lake Placid she would give Nanno over to her niece, who had promised to be there to meet the Camp Baby.
Tuesday came, and just before tea-time Jean, Betty, Cecily and Frances were strolling up and down, watching impatiently for the arrival of the carriage with Miss Hamersley, Nancy and the little guest of Camp Huairarwee. Presently Jean’s cry, “They’re coming!” brought together a welcoming group of girls.
The carriage stopped in front of the bungalow. “Here’s your baby!” said Douglas who was driving. “She’s been asleep most of the way over. Wake up, Nanno!” He dropped the reins and lifted a bundle which had been lying half on the front seat and half on his lap. A small face became visible, and they heard a sleepy sigh and murmur.
“She’s a perfect love!” said Nancy, springing down from the back seat.
“I’ll get down and lift her out,” said Douglas.
“No, I’ll take her!”
“No, give her to me!”
“Ah, no, give her to me!”
Carol, Eunice and Marion, who stood nearest, all stretched out their arms at once.
“Here we go, baby! That’s the way!” And Douglas put Nanno into the nearest pair of arms, which happened to be Carol’s. “I’ll carry her in for you,” he said, jumping down. “No, no, you sha’n’t have her!” returned Carol. “Oh, you baby-kitten! You darling, little, sleepy thing!” She carried Nanno into the bungalow, the other girls following, and the living-room at once became the scene of homage.
Carol seated herself in an armchair with Nanno on her lap, and Cecily and Jean went down on their knees before the wicker throne.
“Isn’t she the duckiest!” said Nancy. “Now we’ll have Big Nan and Little Nan!” and down she knelt too. The others pressed as close as they could, and there, amid her cluster of admirers, Nanno awoke.
Various had been the portraits of the camp baby drawn by the fancy of the girls; but no one had pictured Nanno as she really was,—a perfect little Mavourneen. She had long black lashes, and they lifted and fell and lifted again, showing the company two big Irish blue eyes. Her thick black hair tumbled about her neck in waves and rings. She had a bewitching noselet, a wide rosy mouth with dimples at the corners, and a dimple in her pretty chin. Her cheeks were flushed from her nap, and her skin had a lovely baby softness,—for not even six years of life in the midst of dirt and neglect had been able to destroy the bloom of this little Irish flower. Mavourneen stretched her arms and yawned and sat up, blinking at the strange world into which she had awakened. The corners of her mouth went up in the sunniest fashion, her dimples grew deeper, and then a soft, little, musical voice inquired, “Where’s de feller?”
“The fellow who brought you here?” asked Carol. “Why, he’s gone to take the horse to bed, but you’ll see him again to-morrow morning.”
Nanno tipped her head on one side. “He’s awful nice,” she murmured.
“You little coquette!” cried Carol, giving her a squeeze.
Nanno saw people laughing and concluded that this new world was at least a cheerful one. Her smile broadened, and she gave a chuckle. Then she nestled her head back in the hollow of Carol’s shoulder, looked up with her happy blue eyes and asked, “Is you Miss Jean?”
“No, sweetheart, I’m Miss Carol. That’s Miss Jean, and that’s Miss Frances. They’re giving the money so you can be here. Isn’t that lovely of them?”
“And you’re going to have a fine time, Nanno, and lots and lots of fun,” said Jean.
“Nanno, you are my daughter,” said Frances. “You must call me Mother Browne.” But Nanno declined with a gentle shake of her head. “Ah, g’wan! I’m me own mommer’s goil,” she answered.
“You’re our baby, though, you precious lamb. You’re the Camp Baby!” said Cecily, and an indignant little voice remonstrated, “I ain’t a baby! I’m six, goin’ on siven!”
“Where did you get that pretty dress, Nanno?” asked Marion.
“De Sister give it to me. She gimme lots o’ clo’s yisterday. See me new shoes, an’ me hat,—an’ me cawt, ain’t it lovully!”
“Beautiful!” they assured her.
Amelie, the little Canadian waitress, came in just then with a tray. “I bring de bébé she’s supper. I tink she lak to have heem now,” said she in her odd Canuck dialect.
“Let me give her her supper,” said Jean. “I want to make friends with her.”
“Well, if you give her her supper, I’ll put her to bed,” said Betty, who had lost her heart the instant those big blue eyes had looked into hers.
“I’ll dress her in the morning,” said Cecily.
“I can dress mesilf an’ me baby too! I don’t need nobody to dress me,” said Nanno.
“Who’s your baby? Your little brother?” asked Eunice, and the musical voice cried, “Sure!”
Carol set the independent little woman in a chair at the table before the tray of cream toast, milk, and sugared raspberries; and while the others went off to prepare for their own supper Jean and Cecily stayed to wait upon Nanno.
“Wot’s dis?” the little girl inquired, and she looked critically at the contents of her soup plate.
“That’s nice milk-toast. There’s your spoon. Now see how good it is,” said Cecily.
Nanno took a generous mouthful and ate it thoughtfully, after which she plunged her spoon into the raspberries.
“Oh, eat your toast first, dear!” Cecily remonstrated. Nanno peacefully swallowed her berries almost whole and took another spoonful of her dessert.
“Don’t you like your toast?” asked Jean.
“Nope,” replied Nanno. Then, with a smile which said “But be consoled, my friends,” she added, “I like thim,” and shovelled up another spoonful of raspberries.
“But you’ll like your toast with lots of sugar on it!” said Jean, and the despised dish, thickly snowed over, agreed with Nanno’s palate.
“You want to drink your milk too, dear,” Cecily reminded her, and she held up the glass invitingly.
“I drink tea!” said Nanno.
“Tea!” exclaimed Jean. “Why, Nanno, that’s dreadful for you! It’ll make you grow all yellow like a Chinaman!”
Nanno did not seem alarmed, for she proudly informed them, “Me baby drinks tea too.”
“Your baby brother!” gasped Cecily.
“Horrors! how old is he?” cried Jean.
“Five munts.”
“Wive months, and drinks tea!” Jean fairly shrieked. “Why, Cece, won’t he kill himself?”
“He might as well take poison!” declared Cecily.
“Have you any other little brothers or sisters?” asked Jean.
“Me sister Katy.”
“How old’s Katy?”
“Dunno. She’s dead.”
“Oh, is she dead? Poor little Katy!” Jean was disconcerted to have brought up a family sorrow; but Nanno seemed to find pleasure in reminiscence.
“She died of ammonia,” she explained, Jean and Cecily looked at each other and bit their lips.
“We had a wake an’ candles!” Nanno went on. “It was awful pretty! An’ I rode in a carriage to the funeral! I like funerals.”
“You cunning thing!” laughed Jean. “You didn’t have ‘ammonia,’ did you?”
“Nope,” said Nanno regretfully, and added brightening, “But me toofs is fallin’ out!” She opened her mouth and displayed a hole being filled up with a coming white tooth. Then she fell into a revery over her toast.
“Do you think she’s getting h-o-m-e-s-i-c-k?” asked Jean anxiously.
“No, I think she’s only sleepy,” replied Cecily.
“I think I’ll get the d-o-l-l, anyway,” said Jean. She ran to their tent and came back with the doll, to buy which a ten-miles drive had been taken. It was the largest the shop had afforded,—a staring blonde, in a scarlet dress and toque made by Cecily.
“Aw! ain’t she lovully!” Nanno jumped down from her chair and received the gay beauty into her arms. She cuddled it, gazed at it, kissed it, and talked to it in her soft brogue, her smile stretching nearly to her little pink ears, and nothing less than love-light in her blue eyes. “Aw, look at her shoes! Look at her stockin’s! Aw, she’s got a petticawt wid lace!”
“What are you going to name her?” asked Jean.
“Katy,” replied Nanno promptly. “She’s goin’ to have a wake an’ lots an’ lots of candles!”
But Nanno was too sleepy to hold a wake that night, and the black lashes were dropping again by the time that Betty and Frances, Nancy and Carol, came to put her to bed in the tiny bedroom of the bungalow where Amelie, too, was to sleep and be the night-guardian of the camp baby.
“She’s as good as gold. We’re not going to have a bit of trouble with her,” said Betty, the Sandman having rendered Nanno a docile cherub.
“She’s a little rascal!” was Jean’s verdict, however, when she and Cecily had labored for nearly an hour over their baby’s toilet the next morning. Nanno had awakened with opinions of her own, strongly prejudiced against the cold sponge bath to which Jean tried to entice her; firmly resolved to dress herself without assistance, and vehemently objecting to having a comb brought in contact with her tangled curls.
“Nanno, which would you rather be? A nice, clean, pretty little girl, or a piggy?” Jean had solemnly demanded, and Nanno’s unhesitating choice had been the “piggy.” Alas, for the queen of the Silver Sword and her bright dream of bringing up a daughter of the order! Alas, for the princess of the Treasure, who had triumphantly robed the camp baby in her nightgown, and who, before twenty-four hours were over, was reduced to offering bribes of cookies and fudge to bring Nanno to obedience!
It soon became clear that the one person in the whole camp of whom Nanno stood in awe, the only one for whose mandates she cared a pin, was Mrs. Brook. For her own lawful guardians, and the regiment of nursery maids, she had no reverence whatever. Jean, Cecily and Betty coaxed, pleaded and threatened. Little Miss Independence listened with her head on one side, dimpling mouth, and roguery in her eyes, and proceeded to carry out her own little plans unless withheld by main force. Frances looked on at the struggles of her friends with the serenity of a Buddha, always ready to encourage them with: “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again!” but shamelessly refusing to take her share of the good work, though Jean scolded, and even shook the faithless co-guardian.
Jean’s cares might have proved too much for even her determined spirit, if Mrs. Brook had not come to the rescue and provided Nanno with a companion of suitable age. Little Leila Myra Penfield, who lived on a farm near by,—received a standing invitation to come to the camp and play with Nanno. Leila Myra quickly succumbed to Mavourneen’s tyranny, and acted as if the little Irish witch had cast a spell upon her; for no matter how often she departed in tears, leaving Nanno victorious after a quarrel, she was back again the next day. The two children had gone to housekeeping under the trees one hot afternoon. Eunice, reading in the hammock near by, heard an indignant “Le’ go! It’s mine!” and looked up to see the six-year-old hostess and her guest fighting for the possession of the doll’s go-cart. She went to arbitrate, but Nanno met her argument that Leila Myra was company, with the counter-argument, “De go-cart’s mine!” So Eunice knelt down with an arm around each claimant and explained the Golden Rule in alluring terms. “And now,” she ended, “we’ll see which little girl is going to have the pleasure of giving up to the other.” She returned to her book confident that there would henceforth be harmony. Presently a pitiful wail, followed by the rattling of the go-cart, made her glance up again. Leila Myra was retiring in tears to the kitchen, to be consoled by Amelie, and Nanno was gleefully cantering along dragging her property after her.
“Miss Unie, dear!” called the camp baby. “Leila Myra’s had the pleasure of givin’ up to me!”
“Isn’t she as good as a circus!” said Nancy, when Eunice reported her success as a peacemaker to her tent-mates.
The mist hung over the lake, and the hills were looking out of cloud-blankets the next morning when, soon after dawn, Miss Hamersley stood on the shore with the four battle maids, watching Douglas and Jack, each with a guide-boat, pulling for the dock. They were to row to the foot of Eagle Cliff and climb the hill in time to see the sunrise. Miss Hamersley, Frances and Cecily put off in Jack’s boat, and Jean and Betty followed with Douglas. Jean had just taken up the long green paddle to steer, when they heard a gleeful little shout from the land. Looking back they saw a scarlet-robed fairy dancing gaily down the bank.
“There’s Nanno!” groaned Jean and Betty together.
Nanno it was, arrayed in the red flannel wrapper laboriously made for her by her guardians, and carrying her doll now divested of clothing.
“Hello, Pug-nose!” called Douglas.
“Nanno, go back! Go right straight back to bed again!” cried Jean in desperation. “Oh, bother! I’ll have to take her back myself!”
“Katy’s goin’ bathin’!” shouted Nanno, trotting down to the pebbly strand.
“Nanno! Go back! Don’t go into the water!—Oh, there she goes! Douglas, take me back quick!” Douglas backed water, but before they reached the shore the mischief was done. Nanno had waded out into the ripples, letting the skirt of her wrapper trail in the lake as she conscientiously ducked her child.
“Oh, look at that little rascal! Now I can’t go at all!” said Jean. “I’ll have to get her dressed as quick as I can.”
“No, I’ll stay home and dress her this time,” said Betty. “It’s my turn.”
“You sha’n’t do it! I promised I’d take care of the little bother and I’m going to!” answered Jean.
“We’ll row around a little and come back for you when you’ve dressed Pug,” said Douglas.
“No—there’s no use my trying to go anywhere, now she’s awake. You’ll have to go without me,” returned Jean petulantly.
“Katy’s gettin’ nice an’ clean, now,—she was awful dirty!” said Nanno, as the boat hit the dock.
“You naughty little monkey! I don’t see why you couldn’t have stayed asleep!” grumbled Jean. “Oh, dear, look at your wrapper! It’s soaking! And you’ve spoiled your nice worsted slippers!”
“Dey ain’t spiled,—dey’ll dry,” Nanno assured her placidly. Jean led her up to the bungalow with the air of an irate nursery-maid, but Nanno was in a joyous humor, and proved it by all sorts of antics while she was being dressed.
“Now stand still and don’t hop! I can’t button a thing! Nanno, if you don’t behave this minute, I’ll tell Mrs. Brook!” Jean threatened. Nanno paused on one foot, her head cocked sidewise.
“Ah, Nanno, if you’ll only be good, I’ll tell you a lovely fairy-story as soon as you’re dressed,” pleaded Jean. And Nanno yielded to bribery.
Jean soon had her charge dressed and munching gingersnaps. “Tell me the story now,” said the child as they strolled out hand in hand.
“Yes, yes,—I will,” answered Jean. “Let me see—.” She gazed up at the sky where the silver mist was giving place to rosy clouds. “I’ll tell you about the Sunrise Fairies. See that great pink cloud, Nanno! That’s the house where the fairies of the sunrise live.” And her good humor returned as she invented a tale about the elfin children who played in the sunrise palace, and sailed through the sky in beautiful cloud boats.
“Dey sell ice-pie up dere,” Nanno interrupted, with a yearning for the products of the New York push-carts.
“Oh, no, they don’t! But they have lovely pink cloud ice cream.”
“Me an’ you’s goin’ to live up dere,” said Nanno, when the story was over. “When we get dere, I’ll give you a pink kiss!”
“Why, Babykins, what’s a pink kiss?” Jean asked.
“And you’ll give me one? How beautiful!”
“Yis, an’ I’m goin’ to give Miss Francie a lovully red kiss!” said Nanno, who had a profound admiration for the Mouse. “An’ I’ll give Miss Cecy a blue one.”
“And what will you give Miss Betty?”
“Oh, dest a white one,—dat’s good enough for her.” Nanno had found Betty less long-suffering than Cecily and Jean. “I’ll give Douglas a red kiss, an’ a blue kiss, an’ a yeller kiss,—an’ a green kiss!” she added, loyal to the color of the shamrock. “An’ I’ll give Fryline a ugly black kiss!”
“Poor Fräulein!” laughed Jean, recalling the little teacher’s endeavors to discipline the spoilt pet of the camp. “Aren’t you going to give anybody but me a pink kiss?”
Nanno shook her head. “Nope; dey’s all for you, ’cause I love you best.” At this Jean hugged the giver of kisses till she wriggled herself free. It was worth losing the sunrise excursion to find that she had won Mavourneen’s heart.