the first campers were due to arrive the second week in june, but everything was in complete readiness long before that time. the girls never wearied of making their tours of inspection to be sure nothing had been overlooked, and each time it seemed as if they added a few more finishing touches.
cousin roxy declared it was all so inviting that she felt like closing up the big house and coaxing the judge to camp out with her.
instead of grouping the tents together, they had chosen the most picturesque and sequestered spots to hide them away in. there was one on a little jutting point of land near the peckham mill. here, the river swept out in a wide u-shaped curve that was crowned with gray rocks and pines. the music of the falls reached it, and the road was only about quarter of a mile across the fields to the north, but apparently it was completely isolated.
"i'd like to put a poet in there," helen said, "or a musician. wasn't it rubenstein, kit, who used to take his violin and play the music of the rain and falling water?"
"ask me not, child, ask me not," returned kit, practically. "all i'm wondering about this minute is how on earth shad ever expected this fly to stay put, if a good, old-fashioned gilead thunder-storm ever hit it."
helen watched her as she climbed up on a camp stool, with most precarious footing, and tried to readjust the fly at the back of the tent.
"don't you have to take them in when it storms or the wind blows, just like sails?" she asked. "ingeborg and astrid told me that. they learned it from their camp-fire rules. i'm sure you don't leave them stringing out like that, kit."
all at once doris came speeding around the rock path, her eyes wide with excitement, her whole manner full of mystery.
"there's an automobile just stopped in the road," she exclaimed, "and the man in it asked me who lived in the tent over here."
"i never supposed any one could see that tent from the road." kit's tone held a distinct note of disappointment. "what did he want to sell us, dorrie, lightning rods or sewing machines?"
"oh, kit, don't," pleaded doris. "he's really in earnest, and he's coming over here right now. i told him all about everything, and he thinks he might want to rent a tent."
kit's countenance cleared like magic. she forgot the refractory strip of canvas, and descended immediately from the camp stool.
"lead me, sister darling, to this first paying guest, who cannot resist the woodland lure. helen, don't you dare say anything to spoil the inviting picture which i shall give him. i don't see what more he could want." she hesitated a moment, surveying the river, almost directly below the sloping rock. "why, he could almost sit up in bed in the morning and haul in his fish-lines from yon winding stream with a fine catch for breakfast on it."
"oh, hurry, kit, and don't stop to spout," doris begged. "he is really awfully nice, and he's in earnest, i know he is."
but kit went with dignity across the fields to the road where the automobile stood with its lone occupant. he must have been over forty years of age, but with his closely curled dark hair and alert smile he appeared much younger. he wore no hat, and was heavily tanned. it seemed to kit at first glance as though she had never seen eyes so full of keen curiosity and genial friendliness.
"how do you do?" he called as soon as she came within hailing distance. "are you the young lady who has the renting of these tents which i see every once in a while?"
kit admitted that she was. he nodded his head approvingly and smiled, a broad pleasant smile which seemed to include the entire landscape.
"i like it here," he announced with emphasis. "it is sequestered and silent. i have not met a single team or car on the road for miles."
"oh, that happens often," said kit, eagerly. "there are days when nobody passes at all except the mail carrier."
"it suits me," he exclaimed, buoyantly. "i must have quiet and perfect relaxation. i will rent one of your tents and occupy it at once. i have been touring this part of the country looking for a spot which appealed to me."
"we have one on the hill yonder," kit suggested. he seemed rather peculiar, and perhaps it would be just as well to sequester him as far off as possible. "it is right on the edge of the pines, and faces the west. the sunsets are beautiful from there."
"no, no," he repeated. "i like the sound of the water. i hear falls below here. i will take that tent i see over there."
so came the first tent dweller to greenacres. kit had still been in doubt, and taking no chances on strangers within the gates, she had guided mr. ormond up to her father to make the closing arrangements on renting the waterfall tent, as the girls called it, for the entire summer. the most amazing part was that he left a check that first day for $75.00, full rental for ten weeks.
"i must not be interrupted or bothered by little things," he told mr. robbins, earnestly. "i must have perfect isolation or i cannot do my work."
"now, what on earth do you suppose he meant by that?" kit asked, after the underslung gray roadster had passed out of sight. "my goodness, girls, he may be a counterfeiter. you can bet a cookie gilead would look upon him as a suspicious character when he could pay seventy-five dollars right down all at once."
"i rather liked his face," mrs. robbins remarked, "and he gave your father excellent business references. i think you're very fortunate that he happened to travel this way."
he arrived promptly the following day and arranged with shad to put up the automobile in the barn.
"well, i've lugged down all his belongings to the tent," shad said, rather hopelessly, that night, "and i can't find out for the life of me what kind of business he's in. he had a lot of heavy bundles, and i asked him a few questions about them, but he didn't seem to take kindly to it, so i let him alone. there's one thing though he's got, and that's a big photograph in a silver frame of an all-fired handsome woman he says is his wife. she's dressed just like a queen, crown and all."
helen's eyes were bright with interest, as she listened, but kit's straight, dark brows were drawn together in a frown of perplexity.
"i suppose we'll just have to wait until we find out," she said, "but we'll hope for the best. piney says he's made arrangements to buy eggs and chickens from them, so i see where our paying guests are going to scatter prosperity around the neighborhood."
ralph macrae and honey arrived the seventeenth of june and took the turtle cove tent. the girls did not see very much of them until after jean came up from the city, but then ralph became what doris called "the unexpected guest," dropping in at any time. helen was the one who suspected a budding romance, but she contented herself with watching jean meditatively, and investing her with the glamour of all her favorite heroines.
the first fruits of jean's efforts to colonize the tents came with a letter from bab crane.
"you're going to have four of the girls from school through july anyway, and august if they like it. i've told them the scenery is perfectly gorgeous and they can pitch their easels anywhere they like, so be sure and give them the tents with the best outlook. i think it probable that you may catch miss emery, too, if frances writes back approvingly. she's awfully odd, and lives all alone in a beautiful old mansion down on washington square, but her pictures are splendid, and she's a member of the n.a.d."
the next surprise was a letter from billie. he could not reach home before the middle of july, as he was going on another trip with stanley, but there were five of the boys from his class who wanted to come up and camp.
"i've told them the fishing is great around there, and they're going to make the trip from here in jeff saunders' car. jeff's from georgia, and most of the fellows have never been north. we're going to join them later on, so if you've got a bunch of tents together, you better save us three.
"now, kit, listen here, when i struck delphi, and landed with all that crowd of girls unexpectedly, you know how well i behaved, just for your sake. don't you get superior and toploftical with the boys when they come, because every last one of them is the right sort, and they're expecting to find gilead folks waiting for them with open arms from what i've told them."
"well, upon my word, i like that," exclaimed kit, as she threw the letter down on the table. "any one would think that i didn't know how to treat people. just the same, we'll put them all over in the glen, where they can do just as they please, and not interfere with high art or our mysterious stranger."
sally opened her "general emporium" the first of june. it stood exactly at the crossroads, beside greenacre hall. there was the waterfall, and the old bridge leading to the scotland road. with shad to superintend the work, the peckham boys had erected a little slab shack, and sally had planted wild cucumber and morning-glory vines thickly about the outside, the last week in april, so that by june they had clambered half-way up. there were rustic window boxes of birch, filled with nasturtiums and wandering jew.
inside the store there were two counters, one on either side as you entered, and these had been mr. peckham's contribution to the good cause. several old hickory armchairs from cousin roxy's helped to give the interior an inviting appearance, and sally put up little, thin scrim curtains at the windows.
at first the stocking up of the store had been somewhat of a problem, but cousin roxy helped out with the business plan, and by this time nearly every one in gilead was taking a keen, personal interest in the girls' venture.
it was ma parmalee who first suggested sally selling on the commission plan.
"i've got thirty-five jars of the best kind of preserves and canned goods in gilead, though i say it as shouldn't," she announced, one day, when she had stopped on her way by the crossroads to look over the new establishment. "most of them are pints, and besides i've got—land, i don't know how many glasses of jell. i'd be willing to give you a right good share of whatever you could make on 'em, if you could sell 'em off for me down here."
sally agreed gladly, and the fruit made a splendid showing along the upper shelves behind the counters. not only that, but it began to sell at once. mr. ormond bought up all of the quince jelly after sampling one glass, and ralph acknowledged that he and honey were perfectly willing to become responsible for the strawberry preserves and spiced pears. by the time frances cunningham and the other girls from the academy had arrived, sally was already looking around for more supplies.
then cynthy allen had come over with cousin roxy one day. ever since her home had burned the year before she had been under the friendly roof up at elmhurst, helping out according to her strength, and never fully realizing how the shelter of the old house kept her from the poor-farm down on the plains. she came into the store with an old black lace veil fluttering as usual from her hat, and a brown bombazine dress that dated from the eighties.
"well, you've got the place fixed up real sightly," she said. "i wonder—i don't suppose you'd have any sale for braided rag rugs, would you? i've got some awful pretty ones packed away in my chest, brand new, too. i've been sewing and winding all winter for roxana, too, but i guess she plans to use them for carpets."
sally accepted the suggestion instantly, and down came half a dozen oval rugs, braided in cynthy's best style, that were snapped up at once by the tent dwellers. frances bought three to put around in the tent which she had reserved for miss emery.
"haven't you got some of that painted tinware, too, sally?" she asked. "i don't know just what you call it, but i mean the black candlesticks and little trays with trailing vines on them. i'd like to put some of those around."
the very next day helen started off with piney on the trail of old candlesticks. they stopped at nearly every house they came to, and returned with a perfect treasure trove of old relics.
"why, we found candlesticks stuck out in wood-sheds and corn-cribs, rusty as could be, but the real thing in colonial art, and mother," helen added, almost lowering her voice with a touch of awe, "what on earth do you think mrs. parmalee had on her hen-house door? this!"
she held up an ancient brass knocker, a smiling faun's head encircled in wreathing vines.
"that doesn't look as if it ever belonged on a puritan's front door," said mrs. robbins, laughingly. "i rather think it must have come from merry mount, where they held the first maypole dance and shocked good cotton mather. i think i'll have to buy that from sally myself."
there were several old lacquered trays and a couple of old gray stone dasher churns.
"we'll take those and fill them with yellow daisies," piney said, admiringly, "and i'll bet a cookie they'll sell the first day to some of the artist crowd. i found them in the bennetts' smoke-house covered with the dust of ages."
it was little things like these that made sally's shop unusual and inviting, but piney started a new venture herself accidentally. she and sally had always been chums, and now she spent most of her time helping her. it became the order of the day for them to have a cup of tea about four o'clock. piney would take a candle-stand by the west window and make it look so inviting with a little strip of homespun linen and a spray of flowering almond that no one could resist tea from the old blue ware which mrs. peckham had donated.
they were just having tea one afternoon when miss emery came in with the girls from the academy in new york. there was frances, and the two farley sisters, gwen and elise. the other girl was cecil fanshawe. kit had a way of summing up family history with a few brief, terse remarks, and she had all four indexed and filed, so to speak.
"cecil's from fanshawe grange, somewhere in middlesex, england. father's a major in france, mother's dead, got two aunts in new york. gwen and elise come from ohio, got french blood from colonial days. frances is old knickerbocker stock, born on washington square, warranted sterling. i like cecil best."
when they discovered the tea-table that afternoon, miss emery insisted that she would not leave until she had partaken also from the willow pattern cups, and sally, all blushes and smiles, prepared her first guest tea.
after they had gone she looked at the seventy-five cents in her hand, as though it had fallen from the sky, but piney took the cue from fate.
"we will serve afternoon tea here from now on," she said, "and it's going to be twenty cents instead of fifteen. i know what we'll call this place, sally. there are willow trees all around here, and along the river. this is the 'sign of the willow tree.' we'll make it a stopping-off place for all good pilgrims."
