I Know a Secret/Chapter 18

by Christopher Darlington Morley

A Letter From Fourchette

WE DO not know all the adventures that—the animals had while camping, but we have a glimpse of their activities in a letter that Fourchette wrote to Louise. When the peanut wagon left, Louise gave Fourchette a fountain pen filled with ink, and Helen gave her a tablet of paper, and they asked her to write. Some time went by without any news, but at last a letter came. Fourchette was a good writer: as you will notice, she made only twelve mistakes in spelling in a very long letter. And one of those we must excuse, as she copied it from the peanut wagon.

This was the letter:—

 

Grape Arbor Camp
Lloyds Neck, L. I.

Dear Louise and Helen:—

I am sorry I did not write before, but if you ever go camping you will understand how much there is to do. Something happening every moment. But this afternoon Donny and Bowser are going to Huntington to get supplies and can mail a letter. I have sent Hops and Malta down the beach to go fishing, and the rabbits with them to keep them out of mischeif. Fortunately the rabbits are of a cautious and sencible disposition, they are as good as two nursemaids. I have given them the job of seeing that the kittens clean their teeth every morning, though Hops and Malta do not like doing it in salt water. We have to be careful of our fresh water, as it all has to be brought from the farmhouse on the other side of the Neck. Donny started to dig a well, but it is a much bigger job than digging for moles, and he gave up.

The monkey we picked up on the road, Dosoris by name, is a great problem to me. Really sometimes I get disscouraged, raising a family is no end of toil. I get so fidgety I just have to skin up a tree to cool off. Dosoris is always in some pickle or other and seems never to have had any real home training. The first day or so he was quite ill from eating to many peanuts, then he recovered and became very mischeivious but he is so comic in his ways he keeps us bawling with laughter. The other day a cock pheasant came to call on us, a beautiful golden bird (very good eating, they tell me) with feathers coloured like a whole box of new crayons, yellow and red and blue and green, how you would have liked to see him. He came over from the big Marshall Field estate near here and was rather proud. Very high-hat, the kittens called him, where they pick up their slang I don't know. Dosoris took off his little cap to him, the way he does to everybody, and held out his hand, it's a habit from being always in the organ buisness, but the pheasant thought Dosoris was making fun of him and became very haughty. Well, we were all flattered to have a visit from such a handsome party, I wished you could see Donny's eyes stick out, he did not know there were such handsome birds in the world. It was all he could do to mind his manners when the visitor came strutting up. I gave him the Emergency signal just in time. We gave the pheasant some popcorn and everything was going nicely when Dosoris sneaked up behind and pulled out three of his grand golden feathers.

The pheasant was furious and I don't blame him. Of course Dosoris was up a tree in an instant, grinning and chattering and taking off his cap in his irritating way. He stuck the feathers in his cap and was delighted with his mischeif. The pheasant went off very angry, saying he would report the matter to Mr. Marshall Field, so we have been a bit nervous. But we hope the pheasant would not dare say anything to Mr. Field because he had no buisness going off the Field estate. Where we are of course is Private Property.

That brings me to another adventure. It happened, as things always do, when we were not at all prepared for visitors. Escargot spends most of his time down by the water, he is happy to get a chance to go bathing again, he says it reminds him of Normandy. Perhaps he was a bit careless, anyhow while he was idling on a wet rock a seagull's pied him, and astonished at the sight of such a large lucious snail made a swoop at him and in fact seized him. We were all horribly dismayed and I thought all was over, but we shouted such screams of anger that the gull was startled and dropped him. Escargot was badly frightened, and for a long time we could not persuade him to come out of his shell so we could not tell if he was hurt or not. At last he did so, very pale. He was only bruised, but nervous. While we were all upset by this accident and were ministering to the troubled snail we were horrified to see a man approaching.

We were alarmed, we feared it was someone to move us off this happy spot which we have made so much our own. Also we were not pleased at the idea of any grown-up person intruding upon us, specially at a moment of suffering. Escargot again retreated into his privacy and Dosoris kept taking off his cap and gesticulating for a penny. It was queer to see how the presence of a human being again brought out all that monkey's worst manners, after we thought we had dissiplined him into some sensible behaviour.

The stranger was surprised to see us there, but I must say he was a friendly man. He gave Dosoris a penny, and explained that he had seen the monkey's clothes (still hanging on a tree) and thought them some kind of flag or signal. He knew how to behave with animals, for he sat down quietly and we soon got used to him. Donny gave him a good smelling and believed him to be all right. There was still a good deal of surprise in his looks, but he bought some rosted peanuts and we had a talk. He told us that he and some other people had bought all this piece of land, and he was very enthusiastic about the improvements they were going to make. There would be big concrete roads all through here, and electric light, and laid out in building lots. Why, he said, when this gets developed it will be worth twenty-five hundred an acre. How would you like to buy a couple of lots?

I think he was a little ashamed to have mentioned money, because right away Dosoris held out his hand.

Donny admitted he had always wanted to buy a few acres of land near the water, to retire to when the Roslyn Estates get civilized, but we all protested against this idea of developing Lloyds Neck with real estate schemes. But this man was a good salesman, he got out maps and more than once I was afraid he would have Donny signed up to buy something we could not possibly afford. Besides, why should we buy the property when we were using it anyway free of charge.

The man stayed to supper with us. It was a still evening and he lit a fire on the beach to keep away the mosquitoes, although he said there weren't any. We told stories for the kittens before they went to bed, and the visitor enjoyed them highly. He said that real estate men were always fond of fairy tales, and told us some of his own, about building houses on the South Shore of Long Island. Then he made a suggestion that excited us very much.

My family are all good talkers, he said, and I have a brother who is a Radio Announcer at station M.E.O.W. Those stories of yours are so good, he said, you ought to broadcast them. I know my brother would like to get you to tell some of them into the mike. Grown-up people like to hear stories before they go to bed, it takes their minds off anything disagreeable they have been doing to each other during the day. My brother would get you some money for broadcasting your stories, and then you could afford to buy some of this property.

Isn't that a wonderful idea? We are all greatly thrilled about it.

When he left he was very kind. He told us to go ahead and use this place as if it was our own. He said that would be the finest kind of advertisement for the whole property, and that he would save this special corner of beach for the Grape Arbor Camp.

Well, Louise and Helen, this is the longest letter I ever wrote, but you will be glad to hear we are having such a good time. We will be home soon. I hope you are all good children, no screeching, and that no one has had to sit on the Church Bench.

Your loving cat,

Fourchette.

There is one thing in Fourchette's letter that needs to be explained. Once Mr. Mistletoe bought an old yellow bench from Mr. Zeifman's antique store down by the Mill Pond. He painted it white and put it in the garden, where it was much admired. And indeed it had a graceful simple shape that was very lovely. Mr. Zeifman said it came from an old church in Huntington, which had sold its picturesque old benches and put in pews. This bench, having lived long years in a church, was supposed to give peaceful thoughts to people who sat on it. So when anyone screeched or squabbled or got savage at croquet, he was supposed to go and sit on the Church Bench until he got Good Ideas.