DURING the blissful summer that Jean, Bettie, Mabel, and Marjory had spent in Dandelion Cottage, and before the coming of Henrietta, the little girls had frequently found themselves in need of real money for their make-believe housekeeping. In order to procure the needed funds, they had rented a room to a charming young woman named Miss Blossom.
Miss Blossom's father, an organ tuner by profession, visited many towns in the course of a year. In July, while the castaways were still in camp, some portion of the Presbyterian organ in Lakeville went wrong; and skilful Mr. Blossom, summoned to that town to repair it, was accompanied by his very pleasant daughter. Of course the very first thing she did was to ask for her young friends.
"We've only three days to spend here," said she, "but I should like to see those darling girls—I've thought of them so many, many times."
"Suppose," said Mrs. Bennett, to whom Miss Blossom had appealed, "you go to Mr. Saunders—he may be sending things up."
"Mr. William Saunders?" queried the young woman, with interest. "Oh—I met him when I was here last summer. Thank you—I'll get father to take me to his office this noon."
So that is how it happened that the ever-useful Saunders, who had been commissioned to supply Laddie-Billy with a wardrobe, loaded Miss Blossom aboard Captain Berry's launch that very afternoon. And then, feeling certain that the pleasant and very pretty young woman would be lonely with no one but the captain for company, Mr. Saunders added himself to the load.
The castaways, always eager for the arrival of parcels from home, were all on the beach to welcome the unexpected visitors. Even Billy, who declared that he had never felt better in his life, was part of the sunburnt group.
"I know," lamented Billy, "that those clothes'll be too small—I've grown a foot since Mr. Black measured me three days ago."
"Oh, not a whole foot," protested Mrs. Crane, eying her patient with pride. "But I do think you're a credit to my nursing."
"It isn't everybody," beamed Billy, "that has such a fine nurse—shall I help with that boat, Mr. Black?"
"No, Dave'll take her out."
"Why!" cried Marjory, "there are people getting into Captain Berry's skiff."
"I think," said Jean, a moment later, "that the man is Mr. Saunders; but I don't know the lady—I can't see her face."
"She looks young," said Marjory, with a sigh of relief. "Too young to be Aunty Jane. Just at first—Ugh! I was scared—Oh! It's——"
"Why!" cried Billy, springing suddenly to his feet and rushing straight toward the landing place, "it's Miss Blossom!"
"Miss Blossom!" gasped Jean, gazing in open-eyed amazement at the others.
"Miss Blossom!" echoed Mabel.
"Miss Blossom!" breathed Bettie. "Oh! Look at Billy! It really is Miss Blossom, and he knows her!"
It certainly looked as if Billy, the unknown castaway, had found a friend; for, not waiting for the boat to land, he had rushed into the water (it was shallow, you remember, for a long distance) and had seized the surprised young woman in a bearlike hug.
"Miss Blossom! Miss Blossom!" he cried, hopefully. "What is my name?"
"Why, my dear Laddie," returned the overwhelmed (and almost overturned) young woman, "what does all this mean? Never before was I so warmly greeted by any young man. Is this—Oh, I see. You're the sick and shipwrecked boy that Mr. Saunders—but you're not sick!"
"Not any more," gasped excited Billy, still with an arm about Miss Blossom, as if fearful she might escape. "But I can't remember anything. Tell me, quick—where did I come from?—who am I? I know you. I pumped the organ for you—a big church—you played—Oh, tell me, tell me."
"Wait," pleaded Miss Blossom, "until we're on shore—you'll surely tip us over."
"All right," agreed Billy, reluctantly. But so great was his eagerness to get his friend ashore that he got behind the boat and pushed.
"Now," demanded excited Billy, the moment Miss Blossom was out of the boat, "what's the rest of my name? Laddie—Laddie what?"
"I don't know," confessed Miss Blossom, coloring with chagrin. "Honestly I don't, Laddie. You see, so many boys have pumped organs for us that I don't always remember even their first names."
"But," panted Billy, with a catch in his throat, "surely you'll remember the name of the town?"
"No—o," faltered Miss Blossom, "I'm afraid I don't. I remember your face and your very bright hair—I can see that bright head bobbing up and down in the light of a stained glass window—but I don't know which town or even which state I saw you in. But don't worry, Laddie-boy. My father has a list of all the organs he has ever mended. Now, it must be some time within the last two years that you pumped for us; and it is probable that we stayed with that particular organ for a number of days, else I wouldn't have had time to learn that you were 'Laddie'—I usually call the organ-pumper 'Boy.' Now, when I've looked at father's list, I'll pick out all the long jobs, discover what towns they were in, and perhaps Mr. Saunders, here, will write a notice to insert in the papers that are published in those towns. Don't worry. One of them will certainly be your town. And here are all my precious girls patiently waiting to be hugged!"
Miss Blossom proved a most delightful visitor. The girls wanted to keep her, Mrs. Crane urged her to stay; but Miss Blossom declared that she owed it to Laddie-Billy to get back to Lakeville as speedily as possible. Captain Berry, also, would remain for only two hours; but everybody visited fast and furiously for that precious interval of time—it went all too quickly.
"I'm quite sure," declared Miss Blossom, at parting, "that father's list will help."
"Let me know," pleaded Billy, who had donned his becoming new clothes without delay and happily found them sufficiently large, "if you find anything."
"I surely will," promised Miss Blossom.
Three days later, Mr. Saunders, this time on horseback, rode into camp.
"I'm commissioned," he explained, "to say a certain word in Billy's hearing. Where is he?"
"Getting washed for dinner," replied Henrietta, flourishing the bread-knife toward the river.
"Don't mention my errand," said Saunders. "I'll spring it on Billy when we're all at table—I've invited myself to dinner."
"We'll let everybody get seated before we call Billy," agreed Henrietta. "And I'll warn the girls. You might tie your horse behind those bushes and perhaps he won't know you're here until you speak."
Sure enough, hungry Billy plunged to his place without observing the visitor; but when the plates were filled, Mr. Saunders suddenly leaned forward, looked at Billy, and remarked casually: "The last time I was in Pittsburg——"
"Pittsburg!" gasped Billy, with widening eyes. "Were you ever in Pittsburg?"
"No," admitted Saunders, rather sheepishly. "Were you?"
"Yes!" yelled Billy, joyously waving his slice of bread. "Two-twenty-four Jefferson Street, Pittsburg, Pennsylvania; population three hundred and twenty-one thousand. Sure! I was born there! That's where I live."
"But how," queried Henrietta, strong in all matters geographical, "could a person set sail from Pittsburg and be wrecked at Pete's Patch, Upper Michigan?"
"He couldn't," replied Mr. Black.
"Nevertheless," said Saunders, "I've sent notices to all the Pittsburg papers—what's that street number again?"
"I—I don't know," stammered Billy. "It's gone again. I guess it's easier to think when you're not trying to."
"Jefferson Street," supplied Marjory, who had remembered.
Billy nodded. "Yes," said he, "that sounds right. But how did you guess Pittsburg, Mr. Saunders?"
"In Mr. Blossom's note-book there was an item, under the heading 'Pittsburg,' that read: 'Paid Laddie one dollar.'"
"Wonder where it went?" said the boy, turning his empty pockets inside out.
"By this time to-morrow," promised Saunders, "all Pittsburg will know that a Pittsburg boy name Laddie, wrecked on Lake Superior, is alive and well in—or near—Lakeville."
"Lost:" murmured Laddie, "a brindle pup; answers to the name of Billy. Well, I'm awfully obliged, Mr. Saunders; and my folks—I wonder if my folks want to find me? Do you s'pose they do?"
"I'm sure of it," declared Mrs. Crane. "But if they don't, I'll keep you."
"Nobody'd ever think," sniffed Mabel, overcome with emotion, "that I'd found that boy—everybody adopting him all the time."
"You found Rosa Marie, too, didn't you?" teased Billy. "Well, I refuse to be a twin sister to Rosa Marie."
"Who," asked Saunders, "is Rosa Marie?"
"She's a relative," remarked Mr. Black, dryly, "that Dave imported for the express purpose of eating our berries. Dave, it seems, not only lives here himself but entertains his relatives at our expense."
"And Peter encourages Dave in all his iniquity," added Mrs. Crane.
"And," laughed Bettie, "Mrs. Crane cooks for Dave and all his visitors."
"Well," admitted Mrs. Crane, "they'd either starve or steal if I didn't."
"Dave," said Marjory, who had learned much of the Gurneau family history from the friendly Indian, "has nine brothers and seven sisters—his mother had seventeen children."
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Mr. Black, "do they all live here at times?"
"No," laughed Marjory. "Most of them are in Canada."
"Dear me," breathed Mrs. Crane, fervently, "I hope they'll stay there."