Mandie Collection, The: 4 (67 page)

Mrs. Taft went on into the parlor and sat down. Senator Morton joined her on the small settee. The young people found seats around the room, which was furnished in bright blues. The Dutch look was so clean and crisp, Mandie thought. She looped the end of Snowball’s leash around a chair leg and he curled up on the carpet to take a nap.

“I suppose it’s a good idea to have some refreshment,” Mrs. Taft said as she relaxed. “That was a rather tiring stroll through all those crooked pathways up and down the hills.”

Mandie waited until her grandmother had become engrossed in conversation with the senator, and then she spoke in a low tone to her friends. “I am not one bit tired or sleepy. And if sleep doesn’t overcome me when I go to our room, I may just go out for some fresh night air.” She grinned.

“And go to see what the windmill looks like?” Jonathan asked with his mischievous grin.

“Oh, Mandie, you wouldn’t!” Celia protested as she glanced at Mrs. Taft.

“Celia, you have no sense of adventure. We may never have this opportunity again,” Mandie said in a mysterious tone.

“I’d like to go with you,” Jonathan told her.

“I’ll tap on your door if I decide to go,” Mandie promised.

“Here we go again,” Celia said with a sigh.

“We? Will you go, too?” Mandie asked in a whisper.

“If you do, I’ll have to,” Celia said with resignation. “You may need me for something.”

Mandie smiled at her friend. “I always appreciate your help, Celia.”

Jonathan leaned toward Mandie and asked softly, “Then are you really going? Because if you are, I won’t bother to undress for the night, but will wait for you to tap on my door.”

“Unless some earth-shaking problem comes up, I’ll be ready about thirty minutes after we go to our rooms,” Mandie declared.

At that moment, Gretchen wheeled in a tea cart laden with sweets and a large silver teapot. She went directly to Mrs. Taft, lifted off a silver tray, and set it on a nearby table. Then she laid out the china tea dishes.

“You are tempting me with all those delicious-looking desserts,” Mrs. Taft remarked.

“Yes, madam,” Gretchen said with a big smile. “And you must sample each one. I will leave the cart. Is there anything else?”

“Oh, no thank you, Gretchen. This is more than enough,” Mrs. Taft told her.

The maid nodded and left the room.

As Mrs. Taft poured the tea and passed it around, she said to Mandie, “I really should let you do this for practice. You said they are teaching you how to pour out tea and serve the boys from Mr. Chadwick’s school back home. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Grandmother. But you do the honors. I’ve had plenty of practice already,” Mandie said quickly. “Besides, I love to watch you. You are always a real lady in everything you do.”

Mrs. Taft’s face flushed at the compliment, and she replied, “Not always a lady, I’m afraid, my dear. I have trouble sometimes living up to society’s expectations.”

“Then you should only live up to your own expectations,” Mandie told her as she sipped her tea.

Senator Morton spoke up. “You are right, Miss Amanda. Your grandmother always conducts herself as a lady, no matter what she might say.”

“Well, thank you, Senator Morton,” Mrs. Taft managed, blushing again.

“And was my grandfather always a gentleman?” Mandie asked the senator.

“Yes, your grandfather was always the perfect gentleman—always. There was nothing anyone could fault him with,” Senator Morton assured her.

“Well, then if both my grandparents are such gentle people, why isn’t my mother like them?” Mandie asked.

“Your mother has always been just like your grandfather, dear, never veering to the left or right, but walking a straight line. I’ve always said she should have a little more spine about her and do some things differently from what’s expected,” Mrs. Taft said, reaching for a sweetcake.

Mandie’s eyes widened, and she straightened her shoulders and jutted out her chin. “Then I must take after you, Grandmother, in all my reckless ways.”

Everyone in the room laughed.

“I wouldn’t call it reckless, Amanda. It’s determination, dear,” Mrs. Taft replied with a smile. “Yes, you are like me in many ways.”

Mandie’s mind stored this remark. It may come in handy later on, in case she ever got into trouble because of her “reckless ways.”

After the tea was finished and good-nights were said, everyone went
to their rooms. Mrs. Taft paused at her door to say, “Amanda, you and Celia should be up and dressed for breakfast at seven o’clock. You, too, Jonathan. That’s what time I asked Gretchen to have it ready.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the three chorused.

“Pleasant dreams now,” Mrs. Taft said as she went into her suite.

“Thirty minutes,” Mandie whispered to Jonathan as he turned down the hallway toward his room. He nodded and kept going.

Mandie and Celia flopped onto the bed in their room and watched the little china clock on the mantelpiece for thirty minutes to pass. Snowball curled up in a big chair and went to sleep.

“Mandie, do you not think it’s wrong for us to do this?” Celia asked.

“Oh, Celia, after all, we’re thirteen years old!” Mandie argued. “Besides, lots of girls are married when they’re about three years older. Grandmother just doesn’t realize we’re growing up. And we aren’t really doing anything
wrong
.”

“Well, if you say so,” Celia slowly replied. “Are we taking Snowball?”

“No, not tonight. He might get lost in the dark,” Mandie said as she tossed back her long, blond braid. “Celia, I know your mother, but I don’t know her that well. Does she always walk a straight line, as my grandmother said my mother does?”

“Most of the time,” Celia said, her green eyes becoming dreamy. “My aunt Rebecca Hamilton is the exact opposite. My father was her brother, you know, and I suppose she is a lot like my father. He did a lot of unexpected things sometimes.”

“So did my father,” Mandie said. “And Uncle John is a lot like him. I’m so glad Uncle John married my mother after my father died.” Her voice shook as she said it. She still missed her father so much.

“Do you think your little brother will be like them?” Celia asked.

“Oh, Samuel Hezekiah Shaw has a mind of his own. That’s for sure. Remember I told you he cried all the time?” Mandie said with a laugh.

“But lots of newborn babies cry a lot, I’ve heard,” Celia told her. “You are so lucky to have a brother. I wish I had a brother or sister.”

“You can claim me for your sister,” Mandie said with a smile. “I feel as though we are sisters, really.” She sat up suddenly. “It’s time to go!”

The girls tiptoed down the hallway and knocked lightly on Jonathan’s door. He slipped out into the dimly lit corridor to join them. Without uttering a word, the three went down the stairs and out the front door.

“This way,” Mandie whispered as she turned in the direction of the windmill. Jonathan and Celia followed. No one said a word until they were well beyond hearing distance of the house.

“I think it’s safe to talk now,” Mandie said with a sigh. “We’re getting closer. I can just barely see the windmill.” She pointed ahead.

“I can, too,” Jonathan said, and then he began walking faster. “I think the blades are at an odd position.”

“They are?” Mandie questioned.

“Yes, they should be at one-thirty, four-thirty, seven-thirty, and ten-thirty positions this time of night, because the miller should be closed for the day,” Jonathan explained as they hurried on through the field of flowers.

Suddenly they came out of the flowers into a strip of grass and found a small canal in front of them.

“Oh, shucks!” Mandie exclaimed. “How are we going to get across that water?”

“I don’t think we have time to figure that out tonight,” Jonathan said as he stared at the blades of the windmill that stood just across the canal from them.

“Yes, we’d better wait till tomorrow in the daylight to find a way over,” Celia agreed.

“I don’t see any lights in the miller’s cottage. He must be gone to bed,” Mandie said.

Jonathan grinned at her as he replied, “I imagine everyone is in bed at this time of night except us three ‘reckless people.’”

“Jonathan, you’re making fun of me,” Mandie said, with a smirk.

“No, I’m not. I’m just using the word you used to describe yourself to your grandmother,” he told her.

Mandie quickly changed the subject. “Let’s look for a way across the canal.” She walked along the edge of the water.

“There is no way in sight, Mandie,” Jonathan said. “And I don’t think we’d better go wandering around in the dark.”

Mandie stomped her foot impatiently. “Then let’s just go back to the house.”

“That’s exactly what we should do. Come on,” Jonathan said, turning to walk back down the lane they had come.

Mandie reluctantly followed him, and Celia stayed by her side. Mandie kept looking back at the blades of the windmill. If Jonathan was right about such things, why were the blades in the wrong position? Were they set to give some special message from the miller? Or had they accidentally slipped?

Jonathan suddenly stopped in front of the girls, causing them to bump into him.

“I just had an idea. Maybe the blades are set for some kind of distress signal,” he said excitedly, looking back at the windmill in the distance.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Mandie said, catching her balance as Celia straightened up beside her. “I wish we could go over there and talk to that miller.”

Jonathan turned to walk on. “Not tonight, Mandie,” he said.

The girls followed him, and Mandie stopped and turned for a last glimpse of the windmill.

Suddenly the blades changed position. She screamed excitedly, “Look! The blades are moving!” She began to run back toward the canal.

Jonathan and Celia caught up with her and stood at the edge of the water, watching as the blades swung round and round and finally came to a stop.

“They’re in the right place now,” Jonathan told the girls. “See, they’re at one-thirty, four-thirty, seven-thirty, and ten-thirty, which is where they should be for the night.”

“I wonder who did that,” Mandie said, trying to squint through the darkness. “I can’t see anyone over there.”

“It’s too far. Besides, the mechanism is probably controlled inside the base of the windmill,” Jonathan told her.

“I’m so anxious to get over there and see everything,” Mandie said.

“We’d better go back to the house now, Mandie,” Celia urged her.

“I suppose so,” Mandie agreed with a sigh.

As they turned to walk back the way they had come, Mandie suddenly saw someone move among the tall, flowering bushes nearby. She held out her hands to stop her friends.

“Shhh!” she whispered. “There’s someone over there.” She pointed to their left.

Jonathan and Celia looked in that direction. Then Jonathan whispered hoarsely, “Let’s see who it is!” He made a quick rush in the direction of the moving bushes.

A figure jumped up and ran. The three young people quickly followed, pushing their way through the field of flowers. Whoever it was seemed to have longer legs than theirs, and they couldn’t catch up.

Suddenly Mandie’s long skirt became tangled in something, hindering her movement. She reached down in the darkness to shake it free and found her hand in the briars of a rosebush.

“Oh, I’m all tangled up in thorns!” she exclaimed, putting the fingers that had been stuck into her mouth.

“Just hold still,” Jonathan told her. He found a stick nearby and came to push the stems of the roses away from her skirt. “Go slowly. When I hold one back, make a little step forward, one at a time.”

Mandie did as she was told. Celia managed to grasp the top of some stems where there weren’t any thorns, and held them away from Mandie. Finally she was free. As she shook out her skirts, she quickly looked into the distance. The figure had completely disappeared. They had no way now of knowing who it was.

“I guess I caused us to lose whoever it was,” she told her friends.

“Either of us could have gotten tangled in the rosebushes,” Jonathan said.

“Well, let’s go back to the house,” Mandie said in a disappointed tone.

As they walked back, they were careful to stay on the lanes and out of the flowers. This time the crooked pathway they had chosen led by the barn. It was a huge structure, almost as large as the house. They stopped to have a look.

Mandie started to speak, but was suddenly aware of someone sitting on a stool nearby. She grasped her friends’ hands and pointed. The three of them edged closer, and then they all realized it was Dieter.

Mandie tried to slip by him, but the rustle of her skirts in the bushes
caused the man to look up from the pipe he was filling with tobacco. He immediately stood up and smiled at the three young people.

Remembering that he could hear but not speak, Mandie advanced closer and said cordially, “Good evening, Mr. Dieter.”

His smile grew wider, and he bowed slightly as the three moved on by. The pathway led around the house and up to the front door. Mandie walked ahead to open it.

“Don’t forget to be real quiet,” she whispered as she tried the door handle, but it wouldn’t turn. “It’s locked!” she gasped.

“Let me try,” Jonathan offered, but he couldn’t budge it either.

“Let’s go around to the back door,” Celia suggested.

The three quietly walked around the house. Jonathan stepped up to the back door and tried it. It was also locked.

“Now what are we going to do?” Celia asked.

“I don’t know, but we’ve got to do something. We can’t stay out here all night,” Mandie said as she looked around the stoop.

“I’ll try a window,” Jonathan suggested, and the three looked for one that would be easy to get to. The house was built low to the ground and the entire ground floor seemed to be accessible.

“How about that one?” Jonathan whispered as he pushed through flower bushes to reach a window at the right of the door.

The girls watched as he tried opening it. But the window was securely locked. They went to every window they could reach and were not able to open any of them.

Stepping back, Mandie looked at the story above. “Do you think we could reach any of those windows?”