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CHAPTER XIX
THE OLD WELL

During August the weather became excessively hot. Grandma Sherwood managed to keep the house cool by careful adjustment of awnings, blinds, and screens, but out-of-doors it was stifling.

Midge and Molly did not mind the heat much, and played out of doors all day, but Stella wilted under the sun's direct rays, and usually her mother kept her indoors until the late afternoon.

But one day the intense heat became almost too much even for the other two little girls. They had been romping in the barn, and finally sat down in the hay, very red-faced and warm.

"What can we do," said Molly, "to get cooler?"

"Let's go down by the river," said Marjorie; "it must be cooler by the water."

"Not a bit of it. The sun's too bright down there. Let's walk in the woods."

"The woods are so hot; there isn't a bit of breeze in there."

In sheer idleness of spirit the girls got up and wandered aimlessly about. Going down through the garden and across the chicken-yard, they paused a moment by the old well to get a drink.

As they turned the windlass and drew up a full bucket of water, while the empty one went down, Molly was seized with an inspiration.

"Mopsy Midget!" she exclaimed. "I'll tell you the very thing! Let's go down the well, and get cooled off!"

"How can we?" said Marjorie, who was quite ready to go, but couldn't see her way clear as to the means of transportation.

"Why, as easy as anything! You go down in one bucket, and I'll go down in the other."

"We can't get in these buckets."

"Of course not, goosey; but we can get our feet in, and then stand up, and hold on by the chain."

"We can't get our feet in flat, the buckets aren't wide enough." As she spoke, Marjorie stood on one foot and examined the sole of her other shoe, which was certainly longer than the diameter of the bucket.

"Oh, don't fuss so! We can stand on our toes a little bit. Come on—I'll go first."

"All right," and Marjorie began to enter into the spirit of the thing; "there can't be any danger, because Carter said the water was low in the well."

"Yes, all the wells are low just now—it's such dry weather. But, anyway, we won't go down as far as the water. Now listen: I'll get in this bucket and start down. You pull the other one up, and when you get it up here, pour out the water and get in yourself, and then come on down. But don't let my bucket go all the way down, because I don't want to go into the water. Put a stick through the chain when I holler up for you to do so."

"All right; hop in, it will be lots of fun, and we'll surely get cooled off."

So, while the bucket stood on the flat stones of the well-curb, Molly stepped in and wound her thin little arms around the chain.

"Push me off," she said to Marjorie, "and hang on to the other side of the chain so I won't go too fast."

"Yes, but who's going to push me off when I go down?"

"Oh, you can wriggle yourself off. Here, don't push me, I'll push off myself and show you how."

Grasping the other chain and partly supporting herself by that means, Molly, with her feet in the bucket, wriggled and pushed until the bucket went off the edge of the curb and began to slide down the well. The other bucket came up from under the water with a splash, and as both girls held the upcoming chain, Molly did not go down too fast.

"It's great!" she exclaimed, as she went slowly down. "It's perfectly lovely! It's as cold as an ice-box and the stones are all green and mossy. Look out now, Mops, I'm coming to the other bucket."

The two buckets bumped together, and Molly grabbed at the other one as it passed.

"Now, look out, Mopsy," she said, "I'm going to let go of this other bucket and then I'll only have my own chain to hang on to, so you manage it right and stick the stick through the chain when I tell you to."

The plan worked pretty well, except that it was not easy for Marjorie to keep the water-filled bucket back to balance Molly's weight. It required all her strength to pull on the upcoming chain, and she was glad, indeed, when Molly told her to push the stick in.

A stout stick pushed through a link of chain held the windlass firmly, and as Marjorie lifted the bucket full of water up on to the curb, rash little Molly swung daringly deep in the well below.

"It's awfully queer," she called up, "and I don't like it very much so low down. Gracious, Marjorie, you spilled that water all over me!"

For Marjorie had thoughtlessly emptied the water from the bucket back into the well instead of pouring it out on the ground, and though Molly's bucket swung to one side of the well, yet the child was pretty well splashed with the falling water.

But undaunted by trifles of that sort, Molly proceeded gayly to give her orders. "Now, Midget," she went on, "if your bucket's empty, set it near the edge, and get in and come on down."

Though not as absolutely reckless as Molly, Midget was daring enough, and, placing the empty bucket on the very edge of the curb, she put her feet in, and, standing on her toes with her heels against the side of the bucket, she wound her arms about the chain as Molly had done, and twisted about until the bucket fell off the edge.

Had the girls been more nearly of equal weight, their plan would have worked better; but as Marjorie was so much heavier than Molly, the laws of gravitation claimed her, and she went swiftly down.

The instant that she started, Molly realized this, and her quick wits told her that, unless stopped, Marjorie's bucket would dive deep into the water.

It was a critical situation, and had it not been for Molly's presence of mind a tragedy might have resulted. As it was, she bravely grasped at Marjorie as she passed her; and with a sudden bump, as the two buckets hit together and then fell apart, Molly clutched at Marjorie, and the buckets paused side by side, while the girls shivered and shook, partly with fear and partly with fun.

"What are we going to do?" said Molly. "If I let go of you, you'll go smash into the water, and I'll fly up to the top!"

"Keep hold of me, then," replied Midget, who had a wonderful power of adapting herself to a situation.

And so the two girls, each with one hand grasping a bucket chain and their other hands tightly clasped, stood face to face half-way down the old well.

"I don't think this is such an awfully nice place," said Marjorie, looking round at the slimy green walls which shone wet in the semi-darkness.

"Well, it's cool," retorted Molly, who was shivering in her wet clothing.

"Of course it's cool, but my feet ache, standing on my toes so long. I wonder if I couldn't sit down on the side of the bucket."

"Don't try!" exclaimed Molly, in alarm. "You'll keel over and upset us both into the water!"

"You said the water wasn't deep; perhaps it's only up to our knees; that wouldn't hurt us."

"Yes, and perhaps it's over our heads! I don't know how deep it is, I'm sure; but I must say it looks deep."

The girls peered downward and saw only a black, shining surface, with a shadowy reflection of themselves.

"Well, I've had enough of it," said Marjorie; "now, how are we going to get back again?"

"I don't know," said Molly, slowly, as if the idea had just occurred to her; "honest, Marjorie, I DON'T know."

Marjorie looked dismayed, and, indeed, so did Molly herself.

"You see," Molly went on, feeling as if she were responsible for the situation, "I forgot you're so much heavier than I am. You know the two buckets balance each other."

"Not when one is full and one is empty."

"No; but THEN there is somebody at the top to pull them up. If Carter or anybody was up there, he could pull one of us up."

"Yes, and let the other one go down in the water!"

"No; when one of us was nearly up, he could put the stick in the chain, like you did."

"Well, Carter isn't up there; I wish he was. We might scream for him, but, of course, he couldn't hear us from way down here."

"Let's try, anyway."

Both the girls screamed with all their might, separately and together, but they soon realized that their muffled voices scarcely reached the top of the well, let alone sounding across the fields to Carter.

"This is mischief, for sure," said Marjorie; "and Grandma won't like it a bit. I promised her faithfully I would try to keep out of mischief." The little girl's face was very troubled, for she had truly meant to be good and not indulge in naughty pranks.

"You didn't mean it for mischief," said Molly, consolingly; "I'm sure I didn't."

"Of course I didn't; but somehow I never seem to know what IS mischief until I get into it. But, oh, Molly, I can't stand on my toes any longer. If my feet were a little shorter, or the bucket a little wider, I could stand down flat."

"I don't seem to mind tiptoeing," said Molly; "can't you take off your shoes? Then, perhaps, you could stand flat."

"Perhaps I could," said Marjorie, doubtfully, "but I know I'll upset doing it."

But with Molly's help, and both holding carefully by the chains, Marjorie managed to get her shoes off, and tied them to the handle of the bucket by their strings.

"Well, that's a comfort," she exclaimed, as she stood firmly on the soles of her stockinged feet.

But as the minutes passed away, the girls rapidly became aware of the discomforts of their position. Their hands became bruised with the chains, their bodies grew stiff and cramped, and the damp, cold atmosphere seemed almost to stop the blood in their veins.

The two little white faces looked at each other in the glimmering twilight of the well, and all the fun faded out of the escapade, and despair gradually crept over them.

Two big tears rolled down Marjorie's cheeks as she said:

"I'm not going to cry, Molly, because there's no use of it; but, oh,

Molly, what ARE we going to do?"

"I don't know, Mops. There isn't a thing to do but to stay here until Carter or somebody happens to come to draw water. You won't faint or anything, will you?"

"I don't know," said Marjorie, almost smiling at Molly's alarmed expression; "I don't believe I will, because I don't know how to faint. If I knew how I s'pose I would, for I don't think I can stay like this much longer."

Marjorie's head began to sway back and forth, and Molly, thoroughly frightened, seized her by the shoulder and shook her vigorously.

"Marjorie Maynard!" she exclaimed. "If you faint and tumble out of this bucket, I'll never speak to you again as long as I live!"

Her excited tones roused Marjorie from the faintness that was beginning to steal over her.

"I don't want to fall into the water," she said, shuddering.

"Well, then, brace up and behave yourself! Stand up straight in your bucket and hang on to the chains. Don't look down; that was what made you feel faint. We're here and we must make the best of it. We can't get out until somebody comes, so let's be plucky and do the best we can."

"Pooh! Molly Moss! I guess I can be as brave as you can! I'm not going to faint, or tumble into the water, or do anything silly! Now that I don't have to stand on tiptoe, I could stand here all day,—and Carter's bound to come for water for the cows."

Then what did those two ridiculous girls do but bravely try to outdo each other in their exhibition of pluck!

Neither complained again of weariness or cramped muscles, and finally Marjorie proposed that they tell each other stories to make the time pass, pleasantly. The stories were not very interesting affairs, for both speaker and listener were really suffering from pain and chill.

At last Molly said: "Suppose we scream some more. If Carter should be passing by, you know, he might hear us."

Marjorie was quite willing to adopt this plan, and after that they screamed at intervals on the chance of being heard.

Two mortal hours the girls hung in the well before help came, and then Carter, passing near the well, heard what seemed to him like a faint and muffled cry.

Scarcely thinking it could be the children, he paused and listened.

Again he heard a vague sound, which seemed as if it might be his own name called in despairing tones.

Guided more by instinct than reason, he went and looked over the well-curb, and was greeted with two jubilant voices, which called up to him:

"Oh, Carter, Carter, pull us up! We're down the well, and we're nearly dead!"

"Oh, my! oh, my!" groaned Carter. "Are ye drowned?"

CHAPTER XX
AN EVENTFUL DAY

"Not a bit," chirped Midget, who was determined to be plucky to the last; "we just came down here to get cooled off, and somehow we can't get up."

"Well, if ye aren't a team of Terrors!" exclaimed the exasperated Carter. "I've a good mind to let ye stay down there and GET cooled off!"

Carter was really frightened, but Marjorie's voice was so reassuring that his mood turned to anger at the children's foolishness. As he looked into the situation, however, and saw the girls clasping each other as they hung half-way down the well, his alarm returned.

"How CAN I get ye up, ye bad babies! Whichever one I pull up, the other one must go down and drown!"

The reaction was beginning to tell upon Molly, and her bravery was oozing out at her fingerends.

"Let me down," she wailed, brokenly; "it was all my fault. Save

Marjorie and let me go!"

"No, indeed," cried Marjorie, gripping Molly closer; "I'm the heaviest.

Let me go down and pull Molly up, Carter."

"Quit your nonsense, Miss Midget, and let me think a minute. For the life of me I don't know how to get ye out of this scrape, but I must manage it somehow."

"It's easy enough, Carter," cried Marjorie, whose gayety had returned now that a rescue seemed probable. "You pull me up first and let Molly go down, but not as far as the water,—and when I get nearly up, there's a stick through the chain that will stop me. Then I'll get out, and you can pull Molly up after."

But Molly's nerve was almost gone. "Don't leave me," she cried, clutching frantically at Midge. "Don't send me down alone, I'm so frightened!"

"But, Molly dear, it's the only way! I'd just as leave let you go up

first, but I'm so heavy I'd drop ker-splash! and you'd go flying up!"

But Molly wouldn't agree to go down, and she began to cry hysterically.

So Carter settled the question.

"It's no use, Miss Midget," he called down, in a stern voice, "to try to send Miss Molly down. She's in no state to take care of herself, and you are. Now be a brave little lady and obey my word and I'll save you both; but if you don't mind me exactly, ye'll be drowned for sure!"

Marjorie was pretty well scared at Molly's collapse, and she agreed to do whatever Carter commanded.

"All right, then," said Carter. "Do you two let go of each other and each hang tightly to her own chain, and push your buckets apart as far as you can, but don't hit the sides of the well."

Somewhat inspirited at the thought of rescue, Molly took a firm hold of her chain and pushed herself loose from Marjorie. Marjorie had faith in Carter's promises, but she felt a sinking at her heart as she began to descend the dark well and came nearer and nearer to the black water.

With great care, Carter drew up the bucketful of Molly, and when Midge's bucket was still at a safe distance above the water, he stayed the chain with a stick, and pulled Molly the rest of the way up merely by his own strong muscles.

He safely landed the bucket on the curb, and picking the exhausted child out, laid her on the grass, without a word.

He then went back to the well and spoke very decidedly to Marjorie.

"Miss Midget," he said, "now I'll pull ye up, but ye must do your share of helpin'. When ye reach the other bucket, shove it aside, that it doesn't hit ye. Stand straight and hold tight, now!"

Marjorie did as she was told, and, slowly but steadily, Carter pulled her up. At last she, too, was once again out in the sunlight, and she and Molly sat on the grass and looked at each other, uncertain whether to laugh or cry.

"It was a narrow escape," said Carter, shaking his head at them, "and what puts such wicked mischief into your heads, I don't know. But it's not for me to be reprovin' ye. March into the house now, and tell your Grandma about it, and see what she says."

"I'll go in," said Marjorie, "but if you'd rather, Molly, you can go home. I'll tell Grandma about it, myself."

"No," said Molly, "it was my fault. I coaxed you into it, and I'm going to tell your grandma about it."

"I was just as much to blame as you, for I didn't have to go down the well just because you coaxed me. But I'll be glad if you will come with me, for, of course, we can explain it better together."

Hand in hand the two culprits walked into the room where Mrs. Sherwood sat sewing.

They were a sorry-looking pair, indeed! Their pretty gingham frocks were limp and stringy with dampness, and soiled and stained from contact with the buckets and the moss-grown sides of the well.

Marjorie had been unable to get her shoes on over her damp, torn stockings, and as Molly's head had been drenched with water, she presented a forlorn appearance.

Grandma Sherwood looked at them with an expression, not so much of surprise, as amused exasperation.

"I'm glad you weren't killed," she said, "but you look as if you had come very near it. What have you been up to now?"

"We haven't been up at all, Grandma," said Marjorie, cheerfully, "we've been down—in the well."

"In the well!" exclaimed Mrs. Sherwood, her face blank with surprise. "Marjorie, what can I do with you? I shall have to send you home before your vacation is over, unless you stop getting into mischief! Did you fall down?"

"It was my fault, Mrs. Sherwood," said Molly; "truly, I didn't mean mischief, but it was such a hot day and I thought it would be cool down the well—"

"And it was," interrupted Marjorie; "and we had a pretty good time,—only I was too heavy and I went down whizz—zip! And Molly came flying up, and if we hadn't caught each other, I s'pect we'd both have been drowned!"

Grandma Sherwood began to realize that there had been not only mischief but real danger in this latest escapade.

"Molly," she said, "you may go home, and tell your mother about it, and I will talk it over with Marjorie. I think you were equally to blame, for, though Molly proposed the plan, Marjorie ought not to have consented."

So Molly went home and Mrs. Sherwood had a long and serious talk with her little granddaughter. She did not scold,—Grandma Sherwood never scolded,—but she explained to Marjorie that, unless she curbed her impulsive inclinations to do reckless things, she would certainly make serious trouble for herself and her friends.

"It doesn't matter at all," she said, "who proposes the mischief. You do just as wrong in consenting to take part, as if you invented the plan yourself."

"But, Grandma, truly I didn't see any harm in going down the well to get cooled off. The buckets are big and the chains are very strong, and I thought we would just go down slowly and swing around awhile and pull ourselves up again."

"Oh, Midget, will you never learn commonsense? I know you're only twelve, but it seems as if you ought to know better than to do such absurd things."

"It does seem so, Grandma, and I'll try to learn. Perhaps if you punish me for this I'll grow better. Punishment most always does me good."

Grandma Sherwood suppressed a smile.

"I always punish you, Midget, when you do wrong through forgetfulness, because I think punishment helps your memory. But I don't think you'll ever FORGET that you're not to go down the well again. But next time it will be some other dreadful thing; something totally different, and something that it would never occur to me to warn you against. However, I do want you to remember not to do things that endanger your life, so I think I shall punish you for this morning's performance. You may remain in your own room all the afternoon,—at least, until Uncle Steve comes home."

Grandma's command was not so much for the sake of punishing Marjorie as the thought that the child really needed a quiet afternoon of rest after her experience of the morning.

Marjorie sighed a little, but accepted her fate, and after dinner went to her room to spend the afternoon. It was not a great hardship, for there was plenty of entertainment there, and had it been a rainy day, she could have occupied herself happily. But the knowledge that she was there as a punishment weighed on her mind, and depressed her spirits; and she wandered idly about the room, unable to take an interest in her books or toys.

Grandma looked in from time to time and gave her an encouraging smile and a few words of comfort; for, though intending to be strict with Midget, like all other grandmas, Mrs. Sherwood greatly preferred to be indulgent.

After a while Molly came over, and, as she seemed so penitent and full of remorse, Mrs. Sherwood told her that, if she chose, she might go up to Marjorie's room and share her imprisonment.

Nothing loath, Molly trotted upstairs, and the lonesome Marjorie was glad, indeed, to see her. After a short discussion of the affair of the morning, Marjorie said, with her usual inclination to keep away from disagreeable subjects: "Don't let's talk about it any more. Let's have some good fun up here. I'm so glad Grandma let you come up."

"All right," said Molly, "what shall we do?"

"Let's make paper dresses. Here's a stack of newspapers Grandma was going to throw away, and I saved them."

"Goody! What fun! Shall we pin or sew?"

"We'll pin till the pins give out, and then we'll sew."

"Paper dresses" was a favorite pastime with the children. Usually Stella was with them, and they depended a good deal on her taste and skill. But to-day they had to manage without her, and so the dresses, though fairly well made, were not the fashionable garments Stella turned out.

A whole double sheet of newspaper was long enough for a skirt, which, in a paper dress, was always down to the floor, like grown-up gowns, and usually had a long train. Sometimes they pasted the papers together, and sometimes pinned or sewed them, as the mood served.

The waists were often quite elaborate with surplice folds, and puffy sleeves, and wide, crushed belts.

So absorbed did they grow in their costumes that the time passed rapidly. At last they stood, admiring each other, in their finished paper gowns, with paper accessories of fans, hats, and even parasols, which were considered great works of art.

"Let's play we're going riding in an automobile," said Molly.

"All right; what shall be the automobile—the bed?"

"No, that isn't high enough. I don't mean a private automobile, I mean one of those big touring things where you sit 'way up high."

"Let's get up on top of the wardrobe."

"No, that's too high, and the bureau isn't high enough. Let's get out on the roof and hang our feet over."

"No," said Marjorie, decidedly; "that would be getting into mischief; and besides, I promised Grandma I wouldn't leave the room. Come on, Molly, let's climb up on the wardrobe. There can't be any harm in that, and 'twill be lots of fun."

"How can we get up?"

Marjorie looked at the wardrobe and meditated. "Easy enough," she said after a moment: "we'll just put a chair on the table and climb up as nice as pie!"

The girls worked energetically, yet careful not to tear their paper costumes; and removing the things from a strong square table, they pushed it up to the wardrobe. On this they set a chair, and Marjorie volunteered to go up first, saying that, if it didn't break down with her, it surely wouldn't with Molly.

So Molly held the table firmly, while Marjorie climbed up and, though it required some scrambling, she finally reached the top of the heavy wardrobe, without more than a dozen tears in her paper dress.

"Bring up my parasol, Molly," she said, "I forgot it; and bring some papers and the scissors, and we'll make some automobile goggles."

Laden with these things, Molly briskly started to climb up. The light, wiry child sprang easily on to the table, and then on to the chair. Marjorie lent a helping hand, but just as Molly crawled up to the top of the wardrobe, her flying foot kicked the chair over, which in turn upset the table.

"Now, you HAVE done it!" said Marjorie. "How are we going to get down?"

"It seems to me," said Molly, grimly, "that we're always getting into places where we can't get down, or can't get up, or something."

"Never mind; Jane or somebody will come along soon and set the table up again for us."

It really was great fun to play they were on a high motor car seeing New York. But after a while the game palled, and their paper dresses became torn, and the girls wanted to get down and play something else.

But neither Jane nor any one else happened to come along, and though

Marjorie called a few times, nobody seemed to be within hearing.

"I should think we could find some way to get down," said Molly. "Can't you think of any way, Mops?"

Marjorie considered. To jump was out of the question, as it would probably mean a sprained ankle.

"I wish we had a rope ladder," she said, "and, Molly, I do believe we can make one. Not a ladder, exactly, but don't you know how people sometimes escape from prisons by tying sheets together and letting themselves down?"

"Yes, but we haven't any sheets."

"I know it, but we can take our dress skirts. Not the paper ones, but our own gingham ones. They're strong, thick stuff, and we can tie them together somehow and let ourselves down that way."

Although obliged to work in somewhat cramped quarters, the girls managed to take off their dress skirts, and, as they were very full, one of them was really sufficient to reach far enough down the side of the wardrobe to make a jump possible.

"I'll tell you what," said Marjorie: "let's tie the two together at the corners like this, and then put it right across the top of the wardrobe, and each of us slide down on opposite sides."

When the full skirts were stretched out to their greatest width and tied together by their hems, at what Marjorie called a corner, the girls flung the whole affair across the top of the wardrobe, and sure enough, the skirts hung down on either side to within four or five feet of the floor, which was quite near enough to jump.

So thick and strong was the material, there was really no danger of tearing it, and in great glee the girls grasped their life-line and half slid, half clambered down.

They came down on the floor with a sudden thump, but in safety. All would have been well had they had sense enough to let go of their gingham skirts, but, doubled up with laughter, they clung to them, with the result that a sudden and unintentional jerk forward brought the whole wardrobe over on its face, and it fell crashing to the floor.

Such a racket as it made! It fell upon a small table, whose load of vases and bric-a-brac was totally wrecked. It also smashed a chair and very nearly hit the bird-cage.

And just at this moment, of all times, Uncle Steve appeared at the door!

Although dismayed at the catastrophe, Uncle Steve couldn't help laughing at the astonished faces of the two girls. For, jubilant at the success of their descent, the accompanying disaster had been thrust on them so suddenly that they scarcely knew what it all meant. And costumed as they were, in their little ruffled white petticoats, with hats and bodices made of newspaper, the sight was a comical one indeed.

"Marjorie Maynard!" exclaimed Uncle Steve, "you certainly DO beat the Dutch, and Molly lends you valuable aid. Would you mind telling me WHY you prefer the wardrobe flat on its face instead of in an upright position?"

"Oh, Uncle Steve it upset itself, and I'm so sorry!"

"Oh, well, if it upset itself I suppose it did so because it prefers to lie that way. Probably it was tired and wanted to rest. Wardrobes are a lazy lot, anyway. But do you know, I was stupid enough to think that you girls had something to do with its downfall."

"Oh, we did, Uncle Steve," declared Marjorie, and as by this time her uncle's arm was around her, and she realized his sympathetic attitude in the matter, she rapidly began to tell him all about it.

"We were playing automobile, you see—"

"Oh, well, if it was an automobile accident, it's not at all surprising. Was it reckless driving, or did you collide with something?"

"We collided with the table," said Marjorie, laughing; but just then Grandma Sherwood appeared, and somehow the look of consternation on her face seemed to take all the fun out of the whole affair.

But Uncle Steve stood between Marjorie and a reprimand, and in consequence of his comical explanation of the disaster, Mrs. Sherwood fell to laughing, and the tragedy became a comedy.

And then, at Uncle Steve's orders, the girls were made tidy, and he took them out for a drive, while the long-suffering Carter was called in to remove all evidences of the dreadful automobile accident.