"It's a poor business looking at the sun with a cloudy face."
The long, hot summer days that followed were full of trials for Lovey Mary. Day after day the great unwinking sun glared savagely down upon the Cabbage Patch, upon the stagnant pond, upon the gleaming rails, upon the puffing trains that pounded by hour after hour. Each morning found Lovey Mary trudging away to the factory, where she stood all day counting and sorting and packing tiles. At night she climbed wearily to her little room under the roof, and tried to sleep with a wet cloth over her face to keep her from smelling the stifling car smoke.
But it was not the heat and discomfort alone that made her cheeks thin and her eyes sad and listless: it was the burden on her conscience, which seemed to be growing heavier all the time. One morning Mrs. Wiggs took her to task for her gloomy countenance. They met at the pump, and, while the former's bucket was being filled, Lovey Mary leaned against a lamp-post and waited in a dejected attitude.
"What's the matter with you?" asked Mrs. Wiggs. "What you lookin' so wilted about?"
Lovey Mary dug her shoe into the ground and said nothing. Many a time had she been tempted to pour forth her story to this friendly mentor, but the fear of discovery and her hatred of Kate deterred her.
Mrs. Wiggs eyed her keenly. "Pesterin' about somethin'?" she asked.
"Yes, 'm," said Lovey Mary, in a low tone.
"Somethin' that's already did?"
"Yes, 'm"—still lower.
"Did you think you was actin' fer the best?"
The girl lifted a pair of honest gray eyes. "Yes, ma'am, I did."
"I bet you did!" said Mrs. Wiggs, heartily. "You ain't got a deceivin' bone in yer body. Now what you want to do is to brace up yer sperrits. The decidin'-time was the time fer worryin'. You've did what you thought was best; now you want to stop thinkin' 'bout it. You don't want to go round turnin' folks' thoughts sour jes to look at you. Most girls that had white teeth like you would be smilin' to show 'em, if fer nothin' else."
"I wisht I was like you," said Lovey Mary.
"Don't take it out in wishin'. If you want to be cheerful, jes set yer mind on it an' do it. Can't none of us help what traits we start out in life with, but we kin help what we end up with. When things first got to goin' wrong with me, I says: 'O Lord, whatever comes, keep me from gittin' sour!' It wasn't fer my own sake I ast it,—some people 'pears to enjoy bein' low-sperrited,—it was fer the childern an' Mr. Wiggs. Since then I've made it a practice to put all my worries down in the bottom of my heart, then set on the lid an' smile."
"But you think ever'body's nice and good," complained Lovey Mary. "You never see all the meanness I do."
"Don't I? I been watchin' old man Rothchild fer goin' on eleven year', tryin' to see some good in him, an' I never found it till the other day when I seen him puttin' a splint on Cusmoodle's broken leg. He's the savagest man I know, yit he keered fer that duck as tender as a woman. But it ain't jes seein' the good in folks an' sayin' nice things when you're feelin' good. The way to git cheerful is to smile when you feel bad, to think about somebody else's headache when yer own is 'most bustin', to keep on believin' the sun is a-shinin' when the clouds is thick enough to cut. Nothin' helps you to it like thinkin' more 'bout other folks than about yerself."
"I think 'bout Tommy first," said Lovey Mary.
"Yes, you certainly do yer part by him. If my childern wore stockin's an' got as many holes in 'em as he does, I'd work buttonholes in 'em at the start fer the toes to come through. But even Tommy wants somethin' besides darns. Why don't you let him go barefoot on Sundays, too, an' take the time you been mendin' fer him to play with him? I want to see them pretty smiles come back in yer face ag'in."
In a subsequent conversation with Miss Hazy, Mrs. Wiggs took a more serious view of Lovey Mary's depression.
"She jes makes me wanter cry, she's so subdued-like. I never see anybody change so in my life. It 'u'd jes be a relief to hear her sass some of us like she uster. She told me she never had nobody make over her like we all did, an' it sorter made her 'shamed. Lawsee! if kindness is goin' to kill her, I think we'd better fuss at her some."
"'Pears to me like she's got nervous sensations," said Miss Hazy; "she jumps up in her sleep, an' talks 'bout folks an' things I never heared tell of."
"That's exactly what ails her," agreed Mrs. Wiggs: "it's nerves, Miss Hazy. To my way of thinkin', nerves is worser than tumors an' cancers. Look at old Mrs. Schultz. She's got the dropsy so bad you can't tell whether she's settin' down or standin' up, yet she ain't got a nerve in her body, an' has 'most as good a time as other folks. We can't let Lovey Mary go on with these here nerves; no tellin' where they'll land her at. If it was jes springtime, I'd give her sulphur an' molasses an' jes a leetle cream of tartar; that, used along with egg-shell tea, is the outbeatenest tonic I ever seen. But I never would run ag'in' the seasons. Seems to me I've heared yallerroot spoke of fer killin' nerves."
"I don't 'spect we could git no yallerroot round here."
"What's the matter with Miss Viny? I bet it grows in her garden thick as hairs on a dog's back. Let's send Lovey Mary out there to git some, an' we'll jes repeat the dose on her till it takes some hold."
"I ain't puttin' much stock in Miss Viny," demurred Miss Hazy. "I've heared she was a novelist reader, an' she ain't even a church-member."
"An' do you set up to jedge her?" asked Mrs. Wiggs, in fine scorn. "Miss Viny's got more sense in her little finger than me an' you has got in our whole heads. She can doctor better with them yarbs of hers than any physicianner I know. As to her not bein' a member, she lives right an' helps other folks, an' that's more than lots of members does. Besides," she added conclusively, "Mr. Wiggs himself wasn't no church-member."
"Oh, mickle is the powerful grace that liesIn herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities;For naught so vile that on the earth doth liveBut to the earth some special good doth give."
The following Sunday being decidedly cooler, Lovey Mary was started off to Miss Viny's in quest of yellowroot. She had protested that she was not sick, but Miss Hazy, backed by Mrs. Wiggs, had insisted.
"If you git down sick, it would be a' orful drain on me," was MissHazy's final argument, and the point was effective.
As Lovey Mary trudged along the railroad-tracks, she was unconscious of the pleasant changes of scenery. The cottages became less frequent, and the bare, dusty commons gave place to green fields. Here and there a tree spread its branches to the breezes, and now and then a snatch of bird song broke the stillness. But Lovey Mary kept gloomily on her way, her eyes fixed on the cross-ties. The thoughts surging through her brain were dark enough to obscure even the sunshine. For three nights she had cried herself to sleep, and the "nervous sensations" were getting worse instead of better.
"Just two months since Kate was hurt," she said to herself. "Soon as she gets out the hospital she'll be trying to find us again. I believe she was coming to the factory looking for me when she got run over. She'd just like to take Tommy away and send me to jail. Oh, I hate her worse all the time! I wish she was—"
The wish died on her lips, for she suddenly realized that it might already have been fulfilled. Some one coughed near by, and she started guiltily.
"You seem to be in a right deep steddy," said a voice on the other side of the fence.
Lovey Mary glanced up and saw a queer-looking old woman smiling at her quizzically. A pair of keen eyes twinkled under bushy brows, and a fierce little beard bristled from her chin. When she smiled it made Lovey Mary think of a pebble dropped in a pool, for the wrinkles went rippling off from her mouth in ever-widening circles until they were lost in the gray hair under her broad-brimmed hat.
"Are you Miss Viny?" asked Lovey Mary, glancing at the old-fashioned flower-garden beyond.
"Well, I been that fer sixty year'; I ain't heared of no change," answered the old lady.
"Miss Hazy sent me after some yellowroot," said Lovey Mary, listlessly.
"Who fer?"
"Me."
Miss Viny took a pair of large spectacles from her pocket, put them on the tip of her nose, and looked over them critically at Lovey Mary.
"Stick out yer tongue."
Lovey Mary obeyed.
"Uh-huh. It's a good thing I looked. You don't no more need yallerroot than a bumblebee. You come in here on the porch an' tell me what's ailin' you, an' I'll do my own prescriptin'."
Lovey Mary followed her up the narrow path, that ran between a mass of flowers. Snowy oleanders, yellow asters, and purple phlox crowded together in a space no larger than Miss Hazy's front yard. Lovey Mary forgot her troubles in sheer delight in seeing so many flowers together.
"Do you love 'em, too?" asked Miss Viny, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.
"I guess I would if I had a chance. I never saw them growing out of doors like this. I always had to look at them through the store windows."
"Oh, law, don't talk to me 'bout caged-up flowers! I don't b'lieve in shuttin' a flower up in a greenhouse any more 'n I b'lieve in shuttin' myself up in one church."
Lovey Mary remembered what Miss Hazy had told her of Miss Viny's pernicious religious views, and she tried to change the subject. But Miss Viny was started upon a favorite theme and was not to be diverted.
"This here is a denominational garden, an' I got every congregation I ever heared of planted in it. I ain't got no faverite bed. I keer fer 'em all jes alike. When you come to think of it, the same rule holds good in startin' a garden as does in startin' a church. You first got to steddy what sort of soil you goin' to work with, then you have to sum up all the things you have to fight ag'inst. Next you choose what flowers are goin' to hold the best places. That's a mighty important question in churches, too, ain't it? Then you go to plantin', the thicker the better, fer in both you got to allow fer a mighty fallin' off. After that you must take good keer of what you got, an' be sure to plant something new each year. Once in a while some of the old growths has to be thinned out, and the new upstarts an' suckers has to be pulled up. Now, if you'll come out here I'll show you round."
She started down the path, and Lovey Mary, somewhat overwhelmed by this oration, followed obediently.
"These here are the Baptists," said Miss Viny, waving her hand toward a bed of heliotrope and flags. "They want lots of water; like to be wet clean through. They sorter set off to theyselves an' tend to their own business; don't keer much 'bout minglin' with the other flowers."
Lovey Mary did not understand very clearly what Miss Viny was talking about, but she was glad to follow her in the winding paths, where new beauties were waiting at every turn.
"These is geraniums, ain't they? One of the girls had one, once, in a flower-pot when she was sick."
"Yes," said Miss Viny; "they're Methodist. They fall from grace an' has to be revived; they like lots of encouragement in the way of sun an' water. These phlox are Methodist, too; no set color, easy to grow, hardy an' vigorous. Pinchin' an' cuttin' back the shoots makes it flower all the better; needs new soil every few years; now ain't that Methodist down to the ground?"
"Are there any Presbyterians?" asked Lovey Mary, beginning to graspMiss Viny's meaning.
"Yes, indeed; they are a good, old, reliable bed. Look at all these roses an' tiger-lilies an' dahlias; they all knew what they was goin' to be afore they started to grow. They was elected to it, an' they'll keep on bein' what they started out to be clean to the very end."
"I know about predestination," cried Lovey Mary, eagerly. "Miss Bell used to tell us all those things."
"Who did?"
Lovey Mary flushed crimson. "A lady I used to know," she said evasively.
Miss Viny crossed the garden, and stopped before a bed of stately lilies and azaleas. "These are 'Piscopals," she explained. "Ain't they tony? Jes look like they thought their bed was the only one in the garden. Somebody said that a lily didn't have no pore kin among the flowers. It ain't no wonder they 'most die of dignity. They're like the 'Piscopals in more ways 'n one; both hates to be disturbed, both likes some shade, an'"—confidentially—"both air pretty pernickity. But to tell you the truth, ain't nothin' kin touch 'em when it comes to beauty! I think all the other beds is proud of 'em, if you'd come to look into it. Why, look at weddin's an' funerals! Don't all the churches call in the 'Piscopals an' the lilies on both them occasions?"
Lovey Mary nodded vaguely.
"An' here," continued Miss Viny, "are the Unitarians. You may be s'prised at me fer havin' 'em in here, 'long with the orthodox churches; but if the sun an' the rain don't make no distinction, I don't see what right I got to put 'em on the other side of the fence. These first is sweet-william, as rich in bloom as the Unitarian is in good works, a-sowin' theyselves constant, an' every little plant a- puttin' out a flower."
"Ain't there any Catholics?" asked Lovey Mary.
"Don't you see them hollyhawks an' snowballs an' laylacs? All of them are Catholics, takin' up lots of room an' needin' the prunin'-knife pretty often, but bringin' cheer and brightness to the whole garden when it needs it most. Yes, I guess you'd have trouble thinkin' of any sect I ain't got planted. Them ferns over in the corner is Quakers. I ain't never seen no Quakers, but they tell me that they don't b'lieve in flowerin' out; that they like coolness an' shade an' quiet, an' are jes the same the year round. These colea plants are the apes; they are all things to all men, take on any color that's round 'em, kin be the worst kind of Baptists or Presbyterians, but if left to theyselves they run back to good-fer-nothin's. This here everlastin' is one of these here Christians that's so busy thinkin' 'bout dyin' that he fergits to live."
Miss Viny chuckled as she crumbled the dry flower in her fingers.
"See how different this is," she said, plucking a sprig of lemon- verbena. "This an' the mint an' the sage an' the lavender is all true Christians; jes by bein' touched they give out a' influence that makes the whole world a sweeter place to live in. But, after all, they can't all be alike! There's all sorts of Christians: some stands fer sunshine, some fer shade; some fer beauty, some fer use; some up high, some down low. There's jes one thing all the flowers has to unite in fightin' ag'inst—that's the canker-worm, Hate. If it once gits in a plant, no matter how good an' strong that plant may be, it eats right down to its heart."
"How do you get it out, Miss Viny?" asked Lovey Mary, earnestly.
"Prayer an' perseverance. If the Christian'll do his part, God'll do his'n. You see, I'm tryin' to be to these flowers what God is to his churches. The sun, which answers to the Sperrit, has to shine on 'em all, an' the rain, which answers to God's mercy, has to fall on 'em all. I jes watch 'em, an' plan fer 'em, an' shelter 'em, an' love 'em, an' if they do their part they're bound to grow. Now I'm goin' to cut you a nice bo'quet to carry back to the Cabbage Patch."
So engrossed were the two in selecting and arranging the flowers that neither thought of the yellowroot or its substitute. Nevertheless, as Lovey Mary tramped briskly back over the railroad-ties with her burden of blossoms, she bore a new thought in her heart which was destined to bring about a surer cure than any of Miss Viny's most efficient herbs.
"And cloudy the day, or stormy the night,The sky of her heart was always bright."
"It wouldn't s'prise me none if we had cyclones an' tornadoes by evenin', it looks so thundery outdoors."
It was inconsiderate of Miss Hazy to make the above observation in the very face of the most elaborate preparations for a picnic, but Miss Hazy's evil predictions were too frequent to be effective.
"I'll scurry round an' git another loaf of bread," said Mrs. Wiggs, briskly, as she put a tin pail into the corner of the basket. "Lovey Mary, you put in the eggs an' git them cookies outen the stove. I promised them boys a picnic on Labor Day, an' we are goin' if it snows."
"Awful dangerous in the woods when it storms," continued Miss Hazy. "I heared of a man oncet that would go to a picnic in the rain, and he got struck so bad it burned his shoes plump off."
"Must have been the same man that got drownded, when he was little, fer goin' in swimmin' on Sunday," answered Mrs. Wiggs, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Mebbe 't was," said Miss Hazy.
Lovey Mary vibrated between the door and the window, alternating between hope and despair. She had set her heart on the picnic with the same intensity of desire that had characterized her yearning for goodness and affection and curly hair.
"I believe there is a tiny speck more blue," she said, scanning the heavens for the hundredth time.
"Course there is!" cried Mrs. Wiggs, "an' even if there ain't, we'll have the picnic anyway. I b'lieve in havin' a good time when you start out to have it. If you git knocked out of one plan, you want to git yerself another right quick, before yer sperrits has a chance to fall. Here comes Jake an' Chris with their baskets. Suppose you rench off yer hands an' go gether up the rest of the childern. I 'spect Billy's done hitched up by this time."
At the last moment Miss Hazy was still trying to make up her mind whether or not she would go. "Them wheels don't look none too stiddy fer sich a big load," she said cautiously.
"Them wheels is a heap sight stiddier than your legs," declared Mrs.Wiggs.
"An' there ain't a meeker hoss in Kentucky than Cuby. He looks like he might 'a' belonged to a preacher 'stid of bein' a broken-down engine- hoss."
An unforeseen delay was occasioned by a heated controversy betweenLovey Mary and Tommy concerning the advisability of taking Cusmoodle.
"There ain't more than room enough to squeeze you in, Tommy," she said, "let alone that fat old duck."
"'T ain't a fat old duck."
"'T is, too! He sha'n't go. You'll have to stay at home yourself if you can't be good."
"I feel like I was doin' to det limber," threatened Tommy.
Mrs. Wiggs recognized a real danger. She also knew that discretion was the better part of valor. "Here's a nice little place up here by me, jes big enough fer you an' Cusmoodle. You kin set on the basket; it won't mash nothin'. If we're packed in good an' tight, can't none of us fall out."
When the last basket was stored away, the party started off in glee, leaving Miss Hazy still irresolute in the doorway, declaring that "she almost wisht she had 'a' went."
The destination had not been decided upon, so it was discussed as the wagon jolted along over the cobblestones.
"Let's go out past Miss Viny's," suggested Jake; "there's a bully woods out there."
"Aw, no! Let's go to Tick Creek an' go in wadin'."
Mrs. Wiggs, seated high above the party and slapping the reins on Cuba's back, allowed the lively debate to continue until trouble threatened, then she interfered:
"I think it would be nice to go over to the cemetery. We'd have to cross the city, but when you git out there there's plenty of grass an' trees, an' it runs right 'longside the river."
The proximity of the river decided the matter.
"I won't hardly take a swim!" said Jake, going through the motions, to the discomfort of the two little girls who were hanging their feet from the back of the wagon.
"I'm afraid it's going to rain so hard that you can take your swim before you get there," said Lovey Mary, as the big drops began to fall.
The picnic party huddled on the floor of the wagon in a state of great merriment, while Mrs. Wiggs spread an old quilt over as many of them as it would cover.
"'T ain't nothin' but a summer shower," she said, holding her head on one side to keep the rain from driving in her face. "I 'spect the sun is shinin' at the cemetery right now."
As the rickety wagon, with its drenched and shivering load, rattled across Main street, an ominous sound fell upon the air:
One—two—three! One—two!
Mrs. Wiggs wrapped the lines about her wrists and braced herself for the struggle. But Cuba had heard the summons, his heart had responded to the old call, and with one joyous bound he started for the fire.
"Hold on tight!" yelled Mrs. Wiggs. "Don't none of you fall out. Whoa,Cuby! Whoa! I'll stop him in a minute. Hold tight!"
Cuba kicked the stiffness out of his legs, and laying his ears back, raced valiantly for five squares neck and neck with the engine-horses. But the odds were against him; Mrs. Wiggs and Chris sawing on one line, and Billy and Jake pulling on the other, proved too heavy a handicap. Within sight of the fire he came to a sudden halt.
"It's the lumber-yards!" called Chris, climbing over the wheels."Looks like the whole town's on fire."
"Let's unhitch Cuby an' tie him, an' stand in the wagon an' watch it," cried Mrs. Wiggs, in great excitement.
The boys were not content to be stationary, so they rushed away, leaving Mrs. Wiggs and the girls, with Tommy and the duck, to view the conflagration at a safe distance.
For two hours the fire raged, leaping from one stack of lumber to another, and threatening the adjacent buildings. Every fire-engine in the department was called out, the commons were black with people, and the excitement was intense.
"Ain't you glad we come!" cried Lovey Mary, dancing up and down in the wagon.
"We never come. We was brought," said Asia.
Long before the fire was under control the sun had come through the clouds and was shining brightly. Picnics, however, were not to be considered when an attraction like this was to be had. When the boys finally came straggling back the fire was nearly out, the crowd had dispersed, and only the picnic party was left on the commons.
"It's too late to start to the cemetery," said Mrs. Wiggs, thoughtfully. "What do you all think of havin' the picnic right here an' now?"
The suggestion was regarded as nothing short of an inspiration.
"The only trouble," continued Mrs. Wiggs, "is 'bout the water. Where we goin' to git any to drink? I know one of the firemen, Pete Jenkins; if I could see him I'd ast him to pour us some outen the hose."
"Gimme the pail; I'll go after him," cried Jake.
"Naw, you don't; I'm a-goin'. It's my maw that knows him," said Billy.
"That ain't nothin'. My uncle knows the chief of police! Can't I go,Mrs. Wiggs?"
Meanwhile Chris had seized the hint and the bucket, and was off in search of Mr. Peter Jenkins, whose name would prove an open sesame to that small boy's paradise—the engine side of the rope.
The old quilt, still damp, was spread on the ground, and around it sat the picnic party, partaking ravenously of dry sandwiches and cheese and cheer. Such laughing and crowding and romping as there was! Jake gave correct imitations of everybody in the Cabbage Patch, Chris did some marvelous stunts with his wooden leg, and Lovey Mary sang every funny song that she knew. Mrs. Wiggs stood in the wagon above them, and dispensed hospitality as long as it lasted. Cuba, hitched to a fence near by, needed no material nourishment. He was contentedly sniffing the smoke-filled air, and living over again the days of his youth.
When the party reached home, tired and grimy, they were still enthusiastic over the fine time they had had.
"It's jes the way I said," proclaimed Mrs. Wiggs, as she drove up with a flourish; "you never kin tell which way pleasure is a-comin'. Who ever would 'a' thought, when we aimed at the cemetery, that we'd land up at a first-class fire?"
"The love of praise, howe'er concealed by art,Reigns more or less, and glows in ev'ry heart."
Weeks and months slipped by, and the Cabbage Patch ate breakfast and supper by lamplight. Those who could afford it were laying in their winter coal, and those who could not were providently pasting brown paper over broken window-panes, and preparing to keep Jack Frost at bay as long as possible.
One Saturday, as Lovey Mary came home from the factory, she saw a well-dressed figure disappearing in the distance.
"Who is that lady?" she demanded suspiciously of Europena Wiggs, who was swinging violently on the gate.
"'T ain't no lady," said Europena. "It's my Sunday-school teacher."
"Mrs. Redding?"
"Uh-huh. She wants Asia to come over to her house this evenin'."
"Wisht I could go," said Lovey Mary.
"Why can't you?" asked Mrs. Wiggs, coming to the open door. "Asia would jes love to show Mrs. Reddin' how stylish you look in that red dress. I'll curl yer hair on the poker if you want me to."
Any diversion from the routine of work was acceptable, so late that afternoon the two girls, arrayed in their best garments, started forth to call on the Reddings.
"I wisht I had some gloves," said Lovey Mary, rubbing her blue fingers.
"If I'd 'a' thought about it I'd 'a' made you some before we started. It don't take no time." Asia held out her hands, which were covered with warm red mitts. "I make 'em outen Billy's old socks after the feet's wore off."
"I don't see how you know how to do so many things!" said Lovey Mary, admiringly.
[Illustration: "Asia held out her hands, which were covered with warm red mitts."]
"'T ain't nothin'," disclaimed Asia, modestly. "It's jes the way maw brought us up. Whenever we started out to do a thing she made us finish it someway or 'nother. Oncet when we was all little we lived in the country. She sent Billy out on the hoss to git two watermelon, an' told him fer him not to come home without 'em. When Billy got out to the field he found all the watermelon so big he couldn't carry one, let alone two. What do you think he done?"
"Come home without 'em?"
"No, sir, he never! He jes set on the fence an' thought awhile, then he took off en his jeans pants an' put a watermelon in each leg an' hanged 'em 'crost old Rollie's back an' come ridin' home barelegged."
"I think he's the nicest boy in the Cabbage Patch," said Lovey Mary, laughing over the incident. "He never does tease Tommy."
"That's 'cause he likes you. He says you've got grit. He likes the way you cleaned up Miss Hazy an' stood up to Mr. Stubbins."
A deeper color than even the fresh air warranted came into LoveyMary's cheeks, and she walked on for a few minutes in pleased silence.
"Don't you want to wear my gloves awhile?" asked Asia.
"No; my hands ain't cold any more," said Lovey Mary.
As they turned into Terrace Park, with its beautiful grounds, its fountains and statuary, Asia stopped to explain.
"Jes rich folks live over here. That there is the Reddin's' house, the big white one where them curbstone ladies are in the yard. I wisht you could git a peek in the parlor; they've got chairs made outer real gold, an' strandaliers that look like icicles all hitched together."
"Do they set on the gold chairs?"
"No, indeed; the legs is too wabbly fer that. I reckon they're jes toshow how rich they are. This here is where the carriage drives in.Their hired man wears a high-style hat, an' a fur cape jes like Mrs.Reddin's."
"I 'spect they have turkey every day, don't they, Asia?"
Before Asia's veracity was tested to the limit, the girls were startled by the sudden appearance of an excited housemaid at the side door.
"Simmons! Simmons!" she screamed. "Oh, where is that man? I'll have to go for somebody myself." And without noticing the girls, she ran hastily down the driveway.
Asia, whose calmness was seldom ruffled, led the way into the entry. "That's the butter's pantry," she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.
"Don't they keep nothing in it but butter?" gasped Lovey Mary.
"Reckon not. They've got a great big box jes fer ice; not another thing goes in it."
Another maid ran down the steps, calling Simmons.
Asia, a frequent visitor at the house, made her way unconcernedly up to the nursery. On the second floor there was great confusion; the telephone was ringing, servants were hurrying to and fro.
"He'll choke to death before the doctor gets here!" they heard the nurse say as she ran through the hall. From the open nursery door they could hear the painful gasps and coughs of a child in great distress.
Asia paused on the landing, but Lovey Mary darted forward. The mother instinct, ever strong within her, had responded instantly to the need of the child. In the long, dainty room full of beautiful things, she only saw the terrified baby on his mother's lap, his face purple, his eyes distended, as he fought for his breath.
[Illustration: "Master Robert Redding was right side up again, sobbing himself quiet in Lovey Mary's arms."]
Without a word she sprang forward, and grasping the child by his feet, held him at arm's-length and shook him violently. Mrs. Redding screamed, and the nurse, who was rushing in with hot milk, dropped the cup in horror. But a tiny piece of hard candy lay on the floor, and Master Robert Redding was right side up again, sobbing himself quiet in Lovey Mary's arms.
After the excitement had subsided, and two doctors and Mr. Redding had arrived breathless upon the scene, Mrs. Redding, for the dozenth time, lavished her gratitude upon Lovey Mary:
"And to think you saved my precious baby! The doctor said it was the only thing that could have saved him, yet we four helpless women had no idea what to do. How did you know, dear? Where did you ever see it done!"
Lovey Mary, greatly abashed, faced the radiant parents, the two portly doctors, and the servants in the background.
"I learned on Tommy," she said in a low voice. "He swallered a penny once that we was going to buy candy with. I didn't have another, so I had to shake it out."
During the laugh that followed, she and Asia escaped, but not beforeMr. Redding had slipped a bill into her hand, and the beautiful Mrs.Redding had actually given her a kiss!
"Not failure, but low aim, is crime."
As the holiday season approached, a rumor began to be circulated that the Cabbage Patch Sunday-school would have an entertainment as well as a Christmas tree. The instigator of this new movement was Jake Schultz, whose histrionic ambition had been fired during his apprenticeship as "super" at the opera-house.
"I know a man what rents costumes, an' the promp'-books to go with 'em," he said to several of the boys one Sunday afternoon. "If we all chip in we kin raise the price, an' git it back easy by chargin' admittance."
"Aw, shucks!" said Chris. "We don't know nothin' 'bout play-actin'."
"We kin learn all right," said Billy Wiggs. "I bid to be the feller that acts on the trapeze."
The other boys approving of the plan, it was agreed that Jake should call on the costumer at his earliest convenience.
One night a week later Lovey Mary was getting supper when she heard an imperative rap on the door. It was Jake Schultz. He mysteriously beckoned her out on the steps, and closed the door behind them.
"Have you ever acted any?" he asked.
"I used to say pieces at the home," said Lovey Mary, forgetting herself.
"Well, do you think you could take leadin' lady in the entertainment?"
[Illustration: "'Have you ever acted any?' he asked."]
Lovey Mary had no idea what the lady was expected to lead, but she knew that she was being honored, and she was thrilled at the prospect.
"I know some arm-exercises, and I could sing for them," she offered.
"Oh, no," explained Jake; "it's a play, a reg'lar theayter play. I got the book and the costumes down on Market street. The man didn't have but this one set of costumes on hand, so I didn't have no choice. It's a bully play, all right, though! I seen it oncet, an' I know how it all ought to go. It's named 'Forst,' er somethin' like that. I'm goin' to be the devil, an' wear a red suit, an' have my face all streaked up. Billy he's goin' to be the other feller what's stuck on the girl. He tole me to ast you to be her. Your dress is white with cords an' tassels on it, an' the sleeves ain't sewed up. Reckon you could learn the part? We ain't goin' to give it all."
"I can learn anything!" cried Lovey Mary, recklessly. "Already know the alphabet and the Lord's Prayer backward. Is the dress short- sleeve? And does it drag in the back when you walk?"
"Yep," said Jake, "an' the man said you was to plait your hair in two parts an' let 'em hang over your shoulders. I don't see why it wouldn't be pretty for you to sing somethin', too. Ever'body is so stuck on yer singin'."
"All right," said Lovey Mary, enthusiastically; "you bring the book over and show me where my part's at. And, Jake," she called as he started off, "you tell Billy I'll be glad to."
For the next ten days Lovey Mary dwelt in Elysium. The prompt-book, the rehearsals, the consultations, filled the spare moments and threw a glamour over the busy ones. Jake, with his vast experience and unlimited knowledge of stage-craft, appealed to her in everything. He sat on a barrel and told how they did things "up to the opery-house," and Lovey Mary, seizing his suggestions with burning zeal, refitted the costumes, constructed scenery, hammered her own nails as well as the iron ones, and finally succeeded in putting into practice his rather vague theories. For the first time in her life she was a person of importance.
Besides her numerous other duties she prepared an elaborate costume for Tommy. This had caused her some trouble, for Miss Hazy, who was sent to buy the goods for the trousers, exercised unwise economy in buying two remnants which did not match in color or pattern.
"Why didn't you put your mind on it, Miss Hazy?" asked Lovey Mary, making a heroic effort to keep her temper. "You might have known I couldn't take Tommy to the show with one blue leg and one brown one. What must I do?"
Miss Hazy sat dejectedly in the corner, wiping her eyes on her apron."You might go ast Mis' Wiggs," she suggested as a forlorn hope.
When Mrs. Wiggs was told the trouble she smiled reassuringly. Emergencies were to her the spice of life; they furnished opportunities for the expression of her genius.
"Hush cryin', Miss Hazy; there ain't a speck of harm did. Mary kin make the front outen one piece an' the back outen the other. Nobody won't never know the difference, 'cause Tommy can't be goin' an' comin' at the same time."
The result was highly satisfactory, that is, to everybody but Tommy.He complained that there "wasn't no room to set down."
On Christmas night the aristocracy of the Cabbage Patch assembled in the school-house to enjoy the double attraction of a Christmas tree and an entertainment. Mr. Rothchild, who had arranged the tree for the last ten years, refused to have it moved from its accustomed place, which was almost in the center of the platform. He had been earnestly remonstrated with, but he and the tree remained firm. Mrs. Rothchild and all the little Rothchildren had climbed in by the window before the doors were open in order to secure the front seats. Immediately behind them sat the Hazys and the Wiggses.
"That there is the seminary student gittin' up now," whispered Mrs.Wiggs. "He's goin' to call out the pieces. My land! ain't he washedout? Looks like he'd go into a trance fer fifty cents. Hush,Australia! don't you see he is goin' to pray?"
After the opening prayer, the young preacher suggested that, as long as the speakers were not quite ready, the audience should "raise a hymn."
"He's got a fine voice," whispered Miss Hazy; "I heared 'em say he was the gentleman soprano at a down-town church."
When the religious exercises were completed, the audience settled into a state of pleasurable anticipation.
"The first feature of the entertainment," announced the preacher, "will be a song by Miss Europena Wiggs."
[Illustration: "Europena stepped forward."]
Europena stepped forward and, with hands close to her sides and anguished eyes on the ceiling, gasped forth the agonized query:
"Can she make a cheery-pie,Billy boy, Billy boy?Can she make a cheery-pie,Charming Billy?"
Notwithstanding the fact that there were eight verses, an encore was demanded. Mrs. Wiggs rose in her seat and beckoned vehemently to Europena. "Come on back!" she motioned violently with her lips. "They want you to come back."
Europena, in a state of utter bewilderment, returned to the stage.
"Say another speech!" whispered Mrs. Wiggs, leaning over so far that she knocked Mrs. Rothchild's bonnet awry. Still Europena stood there, an evident victim of lockjaw.
"'I have a little finger,'" prompted her mother frantically from the second row front.
A single ray of intelligence flickered for a moment over the child's face, and with a supreme effort she said:
"I have a little finger,An' I have a little beau;When I get a little biggerI'll have a little toe."
"Well, she got it all in," said Mrs. Wiggs, in a relieved tone, asEuropena was lifted down.
After this, other little girls came forward and made some unintelligible remarks concerning Santa Claus. It was with some difficulty that they went through their parts, for Mr. Rothchild kept getting in the way as he calmly and uncompromisingly continued to hang cornucopias on the tree. Songs and recitations followed, but even the youngest spectator realized that these were only preliminary skirmishes.
At last a bell rang. Two bedspreads. which served as curtains were majestically withdrawn. A sigh of admiration swept the room. "Ain't he cute!" whispered a girl in the rear, as Billy rose resplendent in pink tights and crimson doublet, and folding his arms high on his breast, recited in a deep voice:
"I have, alas! philosophy,Medicine, jurisprudence too,And, to my cost, theologyWith ardent labor studied through."
"I don't see no sense in what he's sayin' at all," whispered MissHazy.
"It's jes what was in the book," answered Mrs. Wiggs, "'cause I heared him repeat it off before supper."
The entrance of Jake awakened the flagging interest. Nobody understood what he said either, but he made horrible faces, and waved his red arms, and caused a pleasant diversion.
"Maw, what's John Bagby a-handin' round in that little saucer?" askedAustralia.
"Fer the mercy sake! I don't know," answered her mother, craning her neck to see.
John, with creaking footsteps, tiptoed to the front of the stage, and stooping down, began to mix a concoction in a plate. Many stood up to see what he was doing, and conjecture was rife.MephistoandFaustwere forgotten until Jake struck a heroic pose, and grasping Billy's arm, said hoarsely:
"Gaze, Faustis, gaze into pairdition!"
John put a match to the powder, a bright red light filled the room, and the audience, following the index-finger of the impassionedMephisto, gazed into the placid, stupid faces of four meek little boys on the mourners' bench.
[Illustration: "Sang in a high, sweet voice, 'I Need Thee EveryHour'"]
Before the violent coughing caused by the calcium fumes had ceased, a vision in white squeezed past Mr. Rothchild and came slowly down to the edge of the platform. It was Lovey Mary asMarguerite. Her long dress swept about her feet, her heavy hair hung in thick braids over both shoulders, and a burning red spot glowed on each cheek. For a moment she stood as Jake had directed, with head thrown back and eyes cast heavenward, then she began to recite. The words poured from her lips with a volubility that would have shamed an auctioneer. It was a long part, full of hard words, but she knew it perfectly and was determined to show how fast she could say it without making a mistake. It was only when she finished that she paused for breath. Then she turned slowly, and stretching forth appealing arms toFaust, sang in a high, sweet voice, "I Need Thee Every Hour."
The effect was electrical. At last the Cabbage Patch understood what was going on. The roof rang with applause. Even Mr. Rothchild held aside his strings of pop-corn to letMargueritepass out.
"S' more! S' more!" was the cry. "Sing it ag'in!"
Jake stepped before the curtain. "If our friends is willin'," he said, "we'll repeat over the last ak."
Again Lovey Mary scored a triumph. John Bagby burned the rest of the calcium powder during the last verse, and the entertainment concluded in a prolonged cheer.
"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie."
When the paint and powder had been washed off, and Tommy had with difficulty been extracted from his new trousers and put to bed, Lovey Mary sat before the little stove and thought it all over. It had been the very happiest time of her whole life. How nice it was to be praised and made much of! Mrs. Wiggs had started it by calling everybody's attention to her good points; then Mrs. Redding had sought her out and shown her continued attention; to-night was the great climax. Her name had been on every tongue, her praises sung on every side, and Billy Wiggs had given her everything he got off the Christmas tree.
"I wisht I deserved it all," she said, as she got up to pull the blanket closer about Tommy. "I've tried to be good. I guess I am better in some ways, but not in all—not in all." She knelt by the bed and held Tommy's hand to her cheek. "Sometimes he looks like Kate when he's asleep like this. I wonder if she's got well? I wonder if she ever misses him?"
For a long time she knelt there, holding the warm little hand in hers. The play, the success, the applause, were all forgotten, and in their place was a shame, a humiliation, that brought the hot tears to her eyes.
"I ain't what they think I am," she whispered brokenly. "I'm a mean, bad girl after all. The canker-worm's there. Miss Viny said there never would be a sure-'nough beautiful flower till the canker-worm was killed. But I want to be good; I want to be what they think I am!"
Again and again the old thoughts of Kate rose to taunt and madden her. But a new power was at work; it brought new thoughts of Kate, of Kate sick and helpless, of Kate without friends and lonely, calling for her baby. Through the night the battle raged within her. When the first gray streaks showed through the shutters, Lovey Mary cleaned her room and put on her Sunday dress. "I'll be a little late to the factory," she explained to Miss Hazy at breakfast, "for I've got to go on a' errand."
It was an early hour for visitors at the city hospital, but when Lovey Mary stated her business she was shown to Kate's ward. At the far end of the long room, with her bandaged head turned to the wall, lay Kate. When the nurse spoke to her she turned her head painfully, and looked at them listlessly with great black eyes that stared forth from a face wasted and wan from suffering.
"Kate!" said Lovey Mary, leaning across the bed and touching her hand."Kate, don't you know me?"
The pale lips tightened over the prominent white teeth. "Well, I swan, Lovey Mary, where'd you come from?" Not waiting for an answer, she continued querulously: "Say, can't you get me out of this hole someway? But even if I had the strength to crawl, I wouldn't have no place to go. Can't you take me away? Anywhere would do."
Lovey Mary's spirits fell; she had nerved herself for a great sacrifice, had decided to do her duty at any cost; but thinking of it beforehand in her little garret room, with Tommy's hand in hers, and Kate Rider a mere abstraction, was very different from facing the real issue, with the old, selfish, heartless Kate in flesh and blood before her. She let go of Kate's hand.
"Don't you want to know about Tommy?" she asked. "I've come to say I was sorry I run off with him."
"It was mighty nervy in you. I knew you'd take good care of him, though. But say! you can get me away from this, can't you? I ain't got a friend in the world nor a cent of money. But I ain't going to stay here, where there ain't nothing to do, and I get so lonesome I 'most die. I'd rather set on a street corner and run a hand-organ. Where are you and Tommy at?"
"We are in the Cabbage Patch," said Lovey Mary, with the old repulsion strong upon her.
"Where?"
"The Cabbage Patch. It ain't your sort of a place, Kate. The folks are good and honest, but they are poor and plain. You'd laugh at 'em."
Kate turned her eyes to the window and was silent a moment before she said slowly:
"I ain't got much right to laugh at nobody. I'd be sorter glad to get with good people again. The other sort's all right when you're out for fun, but when you're down on your luck they ain't there."
Lovey Mary, perplexed and troubled, looked at her gravely.
"Haven't you got any place you could go to?"
[Illustration: "'Haven't you got any place you could go to?'"]
Kate shook her head. "Nobody would be willing to look after me and nurse me. Lovey,"—she stretched her thin hand across to her entreatingly,—"take me home with you! I heard the doctor tell the nurse he couldn't do nothing more for me. I can't die here shut up with all these sick people. Take me wherever you are at. I'll try not to be no trouble, and—I want to keep straight."
Tears were in her eyes, and her lips trembled. There was a queer little spasm at Lovey Mary's heart. The canker-worm was dead.
When a carriage drove up to Miss Hazy's door and the driver carried in a pale girl with a bandaged head, it caused untold commotion.
"Do you s'pose Mary's a-bringin' home a smallpox patient?" asked MissHazy, who was ever prone to look upon the tragic side.
"Naw!" said Chris, who was peeping under the window-curtain; "it looks more like she's busted her crust."
In less than an hour every neighbor had been in to find out what was going on. Mrs. Wiggs constituted herself mistress of ceremonies. She had heard the whole story from the overburdened Mary, and was now prepared to direct public opinion in the way it should go.
"Jes another boarder for Miss Hazy," she explained airily to Mrs. Eichorn. "Lovey Mary was so well pleased with her boardin'-house, she drummed it up among her friends. This here lady has been at the hospittal. She got knocked over by a wagon out there near the factory, an' it run into celebrated concussion. The nurse told Lovey Mary this mornin' it was somethin' like information of the brain. What we're all goin' to do is to try to get her well. I'm a-goin' home now to git her a nice dinner, an' I jes bet some of you'll see to it that she gits a good supper. You kin jes bank on us knowin' how to give a stranger a welcome!"
It was easy to establish a precedent in the Cabbage Patch. When a certain course of action was once understood to be the proper thing, every resident promptly fell in line. The victim of "celebrated concussion" was overwhelmed with attention. She lay in a pink wrapper in Miss Hazy's kitchen, and received the homage of the neighborhood. Meanwhile Lovey Mary worked extra hours at the factory and did sewing at night to pay for Kate's board.
In spite, however, of the kind treatment and the regular administration of Miss Viny's herbs and Mrs. Wiggs's yellowroot, Kate grew weaker day by day. One stormy night when Lovey Mary came home from the factory she found her burning with fever and talking excitedly. Miss Hazy had gotten her up-stairs, and now stood helplessly wringing her hands in the doorway.
"Lor', Lovey Mary! she's cuttin' up scandalous," complained the old lady. "I done ever'thing I knowed how; I ironed the sheets to make 'em warm, an' I tried my best to git her to swallow a mustard cocktail. I wanted her to lemme put a fly-blister on to her head, too, but she won't do nothin'."
"All right, Miss Hazy," said Lovey Mary, hanging her dripping coat on a nail. "I'll stay with her now. Don't talk, Kate! Try to be still."
"But I can't, Lovey. I'm going to die, and I ain't fit to die. I've been so bad and wicked, I'm 'fraid to go, Lovey. What'll I do? What'll I do?"
In vain the girl tried to soothe her. Her hysteria increased; she cried and raved and threw herself from side to side.
"Kate! Kate!" pleaded Lovey Mary, trying to hold her arms, "don't cry so. God'll forgive you. He will, if you are sorry."
"But I'm afraid," shuddered Kate. "I've been so bad. Heaven knows I'm sorry, but it's too late! Too late!" Another paroxysm seized her, and her cries burst forth afresh.
Mary, in desperation, rushed from the room. "Tommy!" she called softly down the steps.
The small boy was sitting on the stairs, in round-eyed wonder at what was going on.
"Tommy," said Lovey Mary, picking him up, "the sick lady feels so bad! Go in and give her a love, darling. Pet her cheeks and hug her like you do me. Tell her she's a pretty mama. Tell her you love her."
Tommy trotted obediently into the low room and climbed on the bed. He put his plump cheek against the thin one, and whispered words of baby- love. Kate's muscles relaxed as her arms folded about him. Gradually her sobs ceased and her pulse grew faint and fainter. Outside, the rain and sleet beat on the cracked window-pane, but a peace had entered the dingy little room. Kate received the great summons with a smile, for in one fleeting moment she had felt for the first and last time the blessed sanctity of motherhood.
"For I will ease my heartAlthough, it be with hazardOf my head."
Miss Bell sat in her neat little office, with the evening paper in her hand. The hour before tea was the one time of the day she reserved for herself. Susie Smithers declared that she sat before the fire at such times and took naps, but Susie's knowledge was not always trustworthy —it depended entirely on the position of the keyhole.
At any rate, Miss Bell was not sleeping to-night; she moved about restlessly, brushing imaginary ashes from the spotless hearth, staring absently into the fire, then recurring again and again to an item in the paper which she held:
DIED. Kate Rider, in her twenty-fourth year, from injuries received in an accident.
Miss Bell seemed to cringe before the words. Her face looked old and drawn. "And to think I kept her from having her child!" she said to herself as she paced up and down the narrow room. "No matter what else Kate was, she was his mother and had the first right to him. But I acted for the best; I could see no other way. If I had only known!"
[Illustration: "Susie Smithers at the keyhole."]
There were steps on the pavement without; she went to the window, and shading her eyes with her hands, gazed into the gathering dusk. Some one was coming up the walk, some one very short and fat. No; it was a girl carrying a child. Miss Bell reached the door just in time to catch Tommy in her arms as Lovey Mary staggered into the hall. They were covered with sleet and almost numb from the cold.
"Kate's dead!" cried Lovey Mary, as Miss Bell hurried them into the office. "I didn't know she was going to die. Oh, I've been so wicked to you and to Kate and to God! I want to be arrested! I don't care what they do to me."
She threw herself on the floor, and beat her fists on the carpet. Tommy stood near and wept in sympathy; he wore his remnant trousers, and his little straw hat, round which Mrs. Wiggs had sewn a broad band of black.
Miss Bell hovered over Lovey Mary and patted her nervously on the back. "Don't, my dear, don't cry so. It's very sad—dear me, yes, very sad. You aren't alone to blame, though; I have been at fault, too. I— I—feel dreadfully about it."
Miss Bell's face was undergoing such painful contortions that LoveyMary stopped crying in alarm, and Tommy got behind a chair.
"Of course," continued Miss Bell, gaining control of herself, "it was very wrong of you to run away, Mary. When I discovered that you had gone I never stopped until I found you."
"Till you found me?" gasped Lovey Mary.
"Yes, child; I knew where you were all the time."
Again Miss Bell's features were convulsed, and Mary and Tommy looked on in awed silence. "You see," she went on presently, "I am just as much at fault as you. I was worried and distressed over having to let Tommy go with Kate, yet there seemed no way out of it. When I found you had hidden him away in a safe place, that you were both well and happy, I determined to keep your secret. But oh, Mary, we hadn't the right to keep him from her! Perhaps the child would have been her salvation; perhaps she would have died a good girl."
"But she did, Miss Bell," said Lovey Mary, earnestly. "She said she was sorry again and again, and when she went to sleep Tommy's arms was round her neck."
"Mary!" cried Miss Bell, seizing the girl's hand eagerly, "did you find her and take him to her?"
"No, ma'am. I brought her to him. She didn't have no place to go, and I wanted to make up to her for hating her so. I did ever'thing I could to make her well. We all did. I never thought she was going to die."
Then, at Miss Bell's request, Lovey Mary told her story, with many sobs and tears, but some smiles in between, over the good times in the Cabbage Patch; and when she had finished, Miss Bell led her over to the sofa and put her arms about her. They had lived under the same roof for fifteen years, and she had never before given her a caress.
"Mary," she said, "you did for Kate what nobody else could have done.I thank God that it all happened as it did."
"But you'd orter scold me and punish me," said Lovey Mary. "I'd feel better if you did."
Tommy, realizing in some vague way that a love-feast was in progress, and always ready to echo Lovey Mary's sentiments, laid his chubby hand on Miss Bell's knee.
"When my little sled drows up I'm doin' to take you ridin'," he said confidingly.
Miss Bell laughed a hearty laugh, for the first time in many months. The knotty problem which had caused her many sleepless nights had at last found its own solution.