PART 1
12. CHAPTER TWELVE
(continued)
Meg, in the other boat, was delightfully situated, face to
face with the rowers, who both admired the prospect and feathered
their oars with uncommon `skill and dexterity'. Mr. Brooke was
a grave, silent young man, with handsome brown eyes and a pleasant
voice. Meg liked his quiet manners and considered him a walking
encyclopedia of useful knowledge. He never talked to her much, but
he looked at her a good deal, and she felt sure that he did not
regard her with aversion. Ned, being in college, of course put
on all the airs which freshmen think it their bounden duty to
assume. He was not very wise, but very good-natured, and altogether
an excellent person to carry on a picnic. Sallie Gardiner was
absorbed in keeping her white pique dress clean and chattering with
the ubiquitous Fred, who kept Beth in constant terror by his pranks.
It was not far to Longmeadow, but the tent was pitched and
the wickets down by the time they arrived. A pleasant green field,
with three wide-spreading oaks in the middle and a smooth strip of
turf for croquet.
"Welcome to Camp Laurence!" said the young host, as they
landed with exclamations of delight.
"Brooke is commander in chief, I am commissary general, the
other fellows are staff officers, and you, ladies, are company.
The tent is for your especial benefit and that oak is your drawing
room, this is the messroom and the third is the camp kitchen. Now,
let's have a game before it gets hot, and then we'll see about
dinner."
Frank, Beth, Amy, and Grace sat down to watch the game
played by the other eight. Mr. Brooke chose Meg, Kate, and Fred.
Laurie took Sallie, Jo, and Ned. The English played well, but
the Americans played better, and contested every inch of the
ground as strongly as if the spirit of `76 inspired them. Jo and
Fred had several skirmishes and once narrowly escaped high words.
Jo was through the last wicket and had missed the stroke, which
failure ruffled her a good deal. Fred was close behind her and
his turn came before hers. He gave a stroke, his ball hit the
wicket, and stopped an inch on the wrong side. No one was very
near, and running up to examine, he gave it a sly nudge with his
toe, which put it just an inch on the right side.
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