The traveling gallery

Contents

PAGE

A Fire in the Little House. 132

Hailstones . 137

Chapter I

H ETTY sat on the high seat of the Picture Wag¬ on beside her father. She wondered how much farther it was to the little town which was to be their home for the next few weeks, or at least until no one wanted any more pictures taken.

This was their first day on the road; they had started early that morning before the sun was up and Hetty was beginning to get a bit tired.

n

Even Old Doll was now sauntering along quite slow¬ ly, for she, too, was feeling the effects of the day’s travel. She had trotted rather briskly all day, with only a short stop for lunch, and the day was warm. Then, too, the Picture Wagon was heavy for one horse to pull. Not that Old Doll was thin; the fact was that she was almost too fat to travel fast.

Father held the lines loosely, and for the time seemed so occupied with his thoughts that he scarcely noticed Hetty. She felt sure he was thinking some important thoughts and should not be disturbed. She busied her¬ self watching the men at work in the fields which they passed. That took her mind off her tired legs, which did not reach the floor of the wagon, unless she sat on the very edge of the seat. The edge was sharp and not at all comfortable, but by changing positions she managed to rest herself.

She wondered what the men were doing in the fields. What were they planting, or were they planting? What was the velvety green carpet that covered some of the fields? She knew it wasn’t grass, for it was a different shade from the grass that grew along the country roads on which they were traveling. Was it wheat or was it oats? She must find out while she was in the country.

Hetty knew many things about the noisy, smoky city, but she was beginning to think she would have to go back to the primer when it came to knowing any¬ thing about the country. But how she loved it! She hoped she could stay in the country forever. The air i3 smelled so fresh and sweet as it blew gently against her face. The birds were singing their newest melodies for her especial benefit, or so she thought.

Near the crooked rail fence along the side of the road there were what seemed to Hetty millions of lovely spring beauties, and here and there she caught sight of some blue johnny-jump-ups. She thought she would like to stop awhile and pick her hands full of the fra¬ grant spring blossoms, but there would be plenty of time for that later on, she felt sure. A squirrel jumped up on the topmost rail of the fence, flicked his tail, and ran along the fence as if he were racing with Old Doll and wished to show her some speed.

The sun, which had been shining all of that lovely April day, was fast disappearing behind the tall trees in the distant woods. Father had said they would reach their destination before nightfall. Well, it couldn’t be long now.

Hetty glowed with anticipation; then she thought of Father. She hoped he would get well and strong in the pure country air. The doctor had told him he must get out of the bad air of the stuffy city. Then he had sold his big art studio in the city apartment, keeping only his smaller camera and such equipment as he would need to take pictures in a small way.

He had a man make the “Traveling Gallery,” which was really a little house on wheels. The man who made the new house called it a “Picture Wagon ” because Father was going to use it as a studio.

i4

Hetty thought the little house on wheels was just about the finest she had ever seen, far surpassing the playhouse of her dreams. And to think it was their very own, and they could ride in it anywhere they wanted to go, seeing different towns and different people.

Hetty was thinking, too, of all the ways she would help Father. Mother had died so long ago that she could remember nothing about her. Always it had been Father who had done things for her. Now, it was high time she started looking after him, especially since he was not so strong. She had helped Father with the cooking, now she would learn all about pictures also, for Father must get well and strong.

Gradually the light began to fade as the sun hid itself for the night. Hetty strained her blue eyes for¬ ward for some sign of an approaching village, but none seemed forthcoming. Could Father have been mis¬ taken, she wondered?

There had been no rain for several days and the roads were as dry as powder. A cloud of dust ahead of them obscured the view.

“How far are we from Fort Jefferson, Father?” asked Hetty, unable to hold in any longer.

“Not far now, Hetty. Not more than two miles at the most. You can soon see the church spire,” he an¬ swered, coming out of his reverie. “Are you tired?”

Hetty straightened up with a new determination. “Not very much, only with sitting,” she admitted.

i5

She continued her watch and when the dust cleared away, she could see the church spire in the distance, reaching its thin arm high up into the blue sky.

“There it is, Father! I see the church spire! How much higher than the buildings it must be. I don’t see any houses yet!” cried Hetty. She shivered with excitement, wondering just what the town would be like. “Tell me what you know about it, Father. The town, I mean.”

Father adjusted the reins in the other hand comfort¬ ably, and smiled down at Hetty’s eager, upturned face. His thoughts slipped back to the time when he was a young man. He had taught school in this very town. He thought of the happy days he had spent here. When he spoke it was not of those thoughts. What he said was, “One of the finest churches in all the country round is in Fort Jefferson. I was never in a more beau¬ tiful one.”

Hetty’s eager look changed to one of glad surprise. “Then you have been here before, Father?”

“Yes, but that was long ago. I have not been back in many years. No doubt it has changed a great deal,” he answered, looking ahead at the distant horizon.

By the time they had finished talking about the ap¬ proaching town, they were at its very doors. People seemed to be spilling out of every house. The doors were open, and children were playing in the streets. It was a funny little town, quite different from any Hetty had ever seen. The people nodded to them as they passed. Hetty thought they knew her father and were pleased to see him. She could not understand it.

“Who are all these people, Father? Do they all re¬ member you? Even the children seem happy to see us,” she added.

“The children would not remember me, Hetty. They are just friendly. All of the people are friendly,” ex¬ plained Father.

“I think I shall call it Friendly Town instead of Fort Jefferson,” insisted Hetty, waving to the children as she passed.

Secretly, Hetty thought that it was the little house on wheels that made the people look. No doubt they wondered what it could be doing in their small village. She felt sure they had never seen anything half so fine!

On down through the main street of the town they drove.

“Where do we stop, Father?” Hetty could contain herself no longer, for it looked as if they were going right through the little town without stopping. “Aren’t we going to stay here tonight?”

“Yes, of course we are. I have rented a lot on the edge of town for our stay here. We are almost there now,” assured her father.

And as they passed on along the main street, they soon came to the plot where they were to make their home—at least, it would be their home for a while. Father drove the little Picture Wagon right in the mid¬ dle of the green grassy lot and stopped.

“Here we are!” cried Father. “All hands out!”

Hetty climbed quickly down before Father had a chance to help her. How good it felt to be able to stretch her tired legs.

“What a nice carpet we have for our yard!” exclaimed Hetty, dancing around in the soft, velvety green grass.

“Yes, and what a good dinner it will make for Old Doll!” added Father.

“And I can watch her along the road, while she eats grass; can’t I, Father?” asked Hetty. “There was lovely long grass along the roads, too.”

Hetty unfastened the traces and with Father’s help tied up the lines. She held on to the rein while he went to the house next door to ask if they might keep Old Doll in their stable at night—for of course she could stay in the lot during the day—that is, if they tied her fast to a strap. Father soon returned to say that the neighbor was willing to share the stable.

By the time the horse was put up for the night, the stars began to dot the sky like so many diamond points.

Hetty could hardly wait to get things ready for sup¬ per. When the coal oil lamp was lit it sent a cheery glow over the little house. While Father went to the house next door to see if he could buy a bottle of milk, Hetty prepared things for the evening meal.

This was like playing house. First she lit the twoburner oil stove and put the coffee on to boil. Then she let down the small drop-leaf table which was hooked up on the side of the kitchenette. The business of setting the table took only a jiffy; everything was so handy in the tiny cupboard by the stove.

Hetty remembered the nice ham Father had includ¬ ed in the groceries before they left the city, and she proceeded to cut some for their supper. It was more of a task than she thought it would be, and she was work¬ ing hard at it when Father appeared at the door. Just then she gave the knife an extra push, when whack! her finger was right in the way of the sharp knife!

“Now you’ve done it!” cried Father. “You should let your old dad do the carving. Let’s see how badly it’s hurt!” And he examined the cut finger. “I’ll fix it up in no time at all!”

He found the medicine kit at once, and soon had the injured finger wrapped skillfully. Hetty remembered that Father had told her that he had studied to be a doctor when he was in college; then his mother had become ill, and he was not permitted to finish his course. No wonder he could make such a professional¬ looking bandage.

The accident did not deter Hetty from her cooking, for as she said, she didn’t use that finger very much anyhow. She put the frying pan on the stove and filled it full of the ham that Father had finished cutting. When it was done to a turn, she cracked two eggs into the hot grease and fried them just as Father had taught her, lifting them out with the long-handled pancake turner. Father insisted on cutting the bread, for he said he didn’t want Hetty “cutting up any more moni9 key shines” with the knife. One cut finger at a time was quite enough, he declared.

In the few minutes it took to prepare the meal Father sat on a kitchen chair and watched Hetty. It seemed hardly possible that his little girl was really growing up, but he had to admit it.

Soon everything was in readiness; the coffee was poured into Father’s cup with some of the rich milk from the Jersey cow next door. Hetty poured herself a generous glass of the same good milk.

“This milk has a different complexion from what we bought in the city, hasn’t it, Father?” joked Hetty, and Father agreed.

The two pulled their chairs up to the small table with the lighted lamp right in the middle of it. As Father looked over the table at the appetizing food, then at his little daughter, he declared, “This is a meal fit for a king!”

“Yes, it is,” affirmed Hetty, “and you are a king. At least, I’m supposed to obey you!”

“And what would that make you?” joked Father.

“That would make me your subject,” reasoned Hetty.

“Wouldn’t you rather be a princess?” asked Father.

“Yes, I would, but I’m afraid I don’t look much like one!” returned Hetty, thinking of her choppy black curls. “Princesses always have long flowing hair the color of gold. I think I’ll just be your faithful sub¬ ject, or,” she added thoughtfully, “I might be your court helper!”

And they might have been Jack Spratt and his wife from the looks of the table after they had finished eat¬ ing! For as Father said, “If everything is cleaned up, it will be a sunshiny day tomorrow!”

Hetty began the dishwashing and Father unfolded the twin cots from their place on the wall of their small living room. By the time the dishes were finished and placed in their small cupboard, Father had two inviting-looking beds ready for two very tired people, and they were ready for them in no time at all.

Hetty remembered to ask God to make Father strong and well and to send people to have their pictures taken. She lay there a long time before her eyes closed in sleep, wondering about many things. Would she like the little town? And would people want their pictures taken? Would Father’s health be better as the doctor had promised?

Quiet brooded over the place. The intense silence kept her awake. She was used to noise and clamor. All at once she heard a tree frog croaking in the distance. It sounded so queer to her coming out of the silence that she almost laughed aloud! She did not know what it was. She listened again, but even the frog must have gone to sleep for she could hear nothing but her father’s regular breathing.

Finally drowsiness overcame her and she drew a long breath. That was all she remembered until the sun shining through one of the small square windows fell on her face and woke her up.

Chapter II A PLAYMATE

Hetty blinked several times before she remembered that she was not in her gloomy apartment in the city. Her heart gave a little jump of joy when she thought of all the things she was going to do today. This meant that she would need to hop out of bed and get busy. Where was Father? His cot was empty, but it had not been put up for the day. No doubt he was afraid he would waken her. Well, she would have to do better than that if she was to be of any real assistance to her father.

By the time she was dressed and had her bedding folded neatly, ready to fasten the bed up for the day, the door opened and Father came in carrying a bucket of fresh water from the well next door.

“Good morning! How are you this morning?” he asked.

“Fm fine, Father, but why didn’t you call me? Fm afraid Fm not much of a helper! ” acknowledged Hetty.

“I hadn’t the heart to waken you,” answered Father. “You were sleeping so soundly. Anyway, Fve been up only a short while.”

Hetty could smell the coffee. She sniffed again. What was that other tantalizing odor? Bacon! And she quickened her speed. All that was left for her to do was to place the things on the table.

After breakfast Hetty cleared away the dishes and put the tiny kitchen in order, while Father got out the sign ART GALLERY, which he had painted before he left the city, and hung it above the door in the front of the little house. Then she straightened up the things in the studio, which was the most important room in the little house, for here was where people would have their pictures taken.

Hetty gave the furniture a final “handkerchief dust¬ ing,” as she called it. After she had used the dust cloth, she would take out her little pocket handkerchief and wipe off any semblance of dust on the polished surface of the stands. Everything was in readiness for a cus¬ tomer.

Father had removed the singletree from the front of the Traveling Gallery and had placed the steps there. It would make it easier for customers to enter the door. Hetty thought it was fun to step “high and handsome,” as she called it, but customers might not like it so well. She laughed about the singletree, as Father called the beam that helped the old horse pull the Picture Wagon. She thought it was poorly named, for it looked like any¬ thing else but a tree!

As Father came in from dressing up the front of the little house, Hetty inquired, “Do the people of the vil¬ lage know you are here? That is, do they know that you take pictures, Father?” She was overanxious for fear there would be no customers.

“Of course they do,” assured Father. “I sent an ad¬ vertisement to the mayor to put in their paper. It isn’t a large paper they have here, but at least every one of the villagers reads it!”

“I can hardly wait!” sang Hetty as she danced around the room. “I wonder who will be first?”

“I have some business down town, Hetty. Do you want to go with me?” asked Father.

“Oh, yes, I want to see the stores and the church and everything!” cried Hetty.

So, while father talked to Mr. Whipker, the mayor of the village, in his stuffy, small office on the second floor of the Town Hall, Hetty walked on down the main street looking in the shop windows. They did not look much like the lovely large windows of the big department stores in the city, but Hetty liked it better, because it was so different.

There was the baker’s window with its rows of cinnamon cakes. Hetty determined then and there to have Father buy one for their supper; that, with some coffee and milk, would be all they would need for the evening meal. They looked better the longer she looked at them.

There was the big window of the general store, which from the looks of the window sold everything one could think of, and some things one never would think of. It was like the memory game she played at school; she walked past a table full of all sorts of things; then she wrote down all the names she could remember.

Hetty decided she would play the game all by her¬ self. She looked carefully at everything in the window. When she got home she would see how many articles she could write down from memory. She knew she could not spell all of the words, but Father would help her. He liked to spell. Then it would make up in a way the last few weeks of school that she had missed because she had come with Father.

Hetty did not have time to look in all of the win¬ dows, for she glanced up and saw Father waving to her. She would have many days to do the other windows, she felt sure. And it was such fun!

She hurried after her father and they stopped only long enough to buy one of the cinnamon cakes for their supper. And when they reached the little house on wheels, there was a customer! A woman carrying a baby in her arms. She had come to have the baby’s picture taken.

Father soon had the baby sitting in the high chair and smiling at him. The baby’s mother told Hetty that her baby was six months old and had four teeth. He was a dear roly-poly with very little hair on the top of his soft round head. What there was resembled the fuzz on peaches. He seemed to like Hetty for he smiled at her with a gurgly sound and would not take his bright blue eyes off her. Father had her stand by the side of the camera. When the baby looked very sweet and cheerful, Father snapped the picture. He took three pictures in all so there would be sure to be one that the mother would like.

Father insisted that Hetty was a great help in making the baby feel at home. He would always want her when he took babies’ pictures, he said.

When the baby and his mother had gone, Hetty asked her father if she could lead Old Doll down tRe road to eat grass. The grass was especially long and green on either side of the road. Then, too, Hetty thought she might find some wild flowers.

“Of course you may; only don’t go too far. I might need you,” explained Father.

“Let’s fix up a signal. When you want me, come to the door and ring that little bell that you used to make the baby look up,” advised Hetty.

“Just the thing!” agreed Father. “If I want you to come home right away, I’ll ring the little bell.”

“Good-bye, don’t forget!” warned Hetty.

Hetty went to the stable and untied Old Doll. She loved to be around horses; she had learned much about them, too. She had learned to tie and untie and even to harness a horse. Besides, Old Doll was quite gentle. She had been in the family for a long time. In the city it was the only way they had to get out into the country.

Automobiles had just been invented and they were too expensive for any but the very wealthy to own. There were only a few to be seen in the city. Hetty wondered, as she sat by the roadside holding the long rein, and watching the old horse as she munched the lush green grass, if there were any automobiles in Fort Jefferson. She had seen none since leaving the city.

As Hetty moved farther up the road she noticed some cows feeding on the grass along the roadside. Had they jumped out of the pasture field? Were they running away? Would they run after her? She was afraid of cows that she knew nothing about, but she thought these looked peaceful. She would wait and see.

When she drew nearer, a large collie dog, which she had not seen before, darted out from among the cows, and with a menacing bark ran down the road after Hetty and her horse. The dog looked as big as a lion to Hetty, and she did not like the tone of his voice.

Old Doll liked it even less, for she suddenly lifted her head, pricked up her ears, then started on a full gallop down the road. Hetty held on to the rein, but in order to do so, had to run with all her might. She cried, “Whoa! Whoa!” in a frightened manner. But Old Doll only ran the faster.

The dog was at the horse’s heels by this time and its red tongue was hanging out of its mouth, showing long pointed teeth. This made Hetty’s heart jump with terror. Besides, Hetty was sure the old horse had never run so fast in her whole life before.

All at once Hetty heard a voice, quite loud and com¬ manding, “Shep! Shep! Come here! Come here at once!”

The collie immediately stopped nipping the horse’s heels and obeyed instantly. Hetty was relieved for the moment, and she thought the dog must indeed be well trained to obey so quickly. When she finally managed to get Old Doll slowed down, and had caught her breath, she saw a barefoot girl in a very big sunbonnet approaching.

“Did my dog frighten your horse?” she asked with a friendly smile.

“I’m afraid he did,” answered Hetty, still breathing heavily and thinking that no doubt she was more frightened than the horse. But she did not say so.

“I’m so sorry!” said the stranger. Then she turned to the dog, “Shep, come here and make friends with— what’s your name?”

“My name’s Hetty, Hetty Burkett. What’s yours?” she asked shortly.

“Lydia Langdon is mine/’ answered the girl.

The dog came slowly up, but when he saw that his mistress was making friends, he yapped his delight, and seemed pleased to include Hetty in his list of friends.

“Are you the Picture Man’s girl?” inquired Lydia.

“Yes, I am. How did you know?” asked Hetty.

“Just because I know everybody else around here,” she explained.

“Don’t you go to school?” asked Hetty.

“Yes, but our school’s out,” returned Lydia.

“I didn’t know schools were ever out so early,” said Hetty. “Our school in the city won’t be out for a whole month! ”

For a time neither spoke, then Hetty’s inquisitive¬ ness took the lead, “Are those your cows?”

“Yes, they are. I herd them along the road in the spring, and that saves our pasture for summer,” ex¬ plained Lydia.

“You’re really clever, aren’t you?” said Hetty. “Do you like it?”

“Yes, I do. Only sometimes I get dreadfully lone¬ some with no one to talk to. Sometimes I bring a book and read,” said Lydia.

“Do you like to read?” inquired Hetty, thinking of her own solid enjoyment in her books.

“I’ve only a few books, and those I’ve read over and over. I ’most know them by heart!” she confessed. '

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do; I’ll lend you some you haven’t read,” volunteered Hetty, thinking of the shelves of books they had brought with them in the little house on wheels.

“I’ll like that a lot, and maybe you can come often and we can read together,” suggested Lydia.

“I will when Father doesn’t need me,” said Hetty, and then she explained to Lydia about the Traveling Gallery and Father’s health which was the real reason for the little house on wheels. She told her she was going to learn all about making pictures so she could help her father more.

“Where do you live?” asked Hetty during a lull in the conversation.

“In that house across the field. There’s a lane which leads back from the road,” explained Lydia.

Hetty looked in the direction Lydia indicated and saw in the distance a small white house and a very large red barn.

“You must come over to our house some time, will you? Well have heaps of fun! We have a swing under the big Bellflower apple tree in the orchard. Do you like to swing?” added Lydia.

“I’m afraid I don’t know. I never was in a swing in all my life. I’m sure I’ll like it though!” smiled Hetty.

“Well go fishing, too. The canal is just a half mile from our house across the fields,” continued Lydia.

“Won’t that be fun!” cried Hetty.

And so they chattered on until, “Ting-a-ling! Tinga-ling!” called Father’s little bell.

“Father wants me, I must go. Good-bye, Lydia. See you tomorrow!” she called as she started to leave.

“Good-bye, Hetty, don’t forget to come!” Lydia called back.

Then Hetty and Old Doll trotted back to the little house on wheels. Father was standing in the doorway.

“Do you know what time it is? It is nearly dinner time!” he announced.

The morning hours had slipped away while she and Lydia had chatted. She had not thought it could be so late. She gave Old Doll a drink at the well and tied her in the stable where she could eat the fragrant hay which was piled high in the manger.

“I’ve found a real playmate! ” Hetty told her father while she busied herself getting dinner. “She’s almost as nice as Mary Austor!”

Mary Austor was the neighbor playmate and Hetty’s best friend when she lived in the city.

Father’s curiosity was aroused and he asked jokingly, “Where? Who? How?” all in one breath.

“What did you come for? How long are you going to stay? What did you bring to put it in, and when are you going away?” sang Hetty, laughing. She al¬ ways thought of that little rhyme when anyone asked more than one question at a time, or at least without waiting until the first one had been answered. But she proceeded to answer them methodically, “Where? Down the road. Who? Lydia Langdon. How? Her dog frightened our horse.”

Then she told Father about the queer way she had

3 i learned to know Lydia, and how Shep had almost frightened her to pieces, and how fast she had to run to keep up with the old horse. Father laughed at her recital of the escapade, and because he understood the call of youth for youth, he was glad that his little girl had found a playmate to take the place of the little neighbor whom Hetty adored.

Chapter III ALMOST DISASTER

The following morning, after Hetty had tidied up the little house, she put on her big floppy hat, selected two of her best-loved books and with Old Doll on the end of a strap, started down the road in the hope of finding Lydia. Father thought it a good idea for her to lend her new acquaintance some books to read, for as he said, “Books are our friends and we must not be selfish with them.”