Meanwhile, outside in the court, many boys and girls who were unable to attend the show found a great attraction in its immediate vicinity.
To watch the doors through which so many lucky individuals passed had proved very interesting earlier in the evening, and after the door had closed upon the latest comer to creep closely to doors and windows, and listen to the hum and flutter of the crowd, and then to hear the band's inspiring strains was a source of joy. But when the music ceased and a great calm settled on the audience, they knew very well it was because the show had commenced, and that, alas, was not visible through thick boards.
One window, whose shutters were pierced by penknives in former years, was held valiantly all the evening by a special clique of youngsters who relieved each other at intervals in pressing their eyes to the holes, thus getting glimpses of the mysteries within.
A certain ingenious lad had repaired to a nearby house, borrowed a red hot poker, and returning to the hall, bored two peep-holes through another shutter, while an enterprising companion pried open a third window, thus giving a full view of the pictures to all who were fortunate enough to get near.
All these delinquents at first were thrown into intermittent thrills of fright whenever the word went round that the constable was coming; but when, after many false alarms, that worthy man was discovered sitting comfortably in the hall, well up toward the stage, they felt secure, knowing they could easily find safety in flight at the first show of activity on his part.
The panorama moved on. Christian's movements were followed with intense interest, especially by the younger onlookers. Claude found a special fascination in the big bag fastened upon the hero's shoulders. He wondered what it contained and when, toward the end, it was lost in some mysterious way that he could not understand, he felt very much disappointed not to have found out. Nettie whispered she guessed it was old clothes, but Claude knew it was something more interesting than that.
At last came the Dark Valley and then the Grand Transformation scene, when through the great pearly gates a glimpse of the Celestial City was obtained. Little white-robed angels, with crowns and harps, were seen flying through the pink tinted air; the white walls and shining domes of the heavenly mansions glittered in the distance, and Christian's trials were past. The children, gazing enraptured at the scene, were sorry that it could not last forever.
Nettie felt a special interest in one chubby cherub who reminded her of Lois, and wished for a closer acquaintance, and Claude still hoped to see the bag bobbing up again to display its contents, like a wizard's hat but, alas, in a moment the fairy scene was blotted out by the descending curtain!
Everybody rose and took place in the procession toward the door.
At that moment a crash was heard; a pane of glass was shattered by some one outside leaning too heavily against it. In a moment the score of heads which were peering in had disappeared. The red-faced constable was seen edging his way through the crowd, and Claude and Nettie had visions of handcuffs and the jail in store for the offenders, who, however, were far away when the enforcer of the law arrived upon the scene.
Ivy nudged Alene, who in turn nudged Laura, who looked round just in time to see Mr. Edmonds standing near the box-office.
"Bon jour, mesdemoiselles," he cried, with a smile and a bow that included them all. "I hope you enjoyed your evening."
"Yes, indeed, thank you, sir!"
"It was beautiful!"
"Lovely!"
"Where do you keep Lois, I mean the cherub?" murmured Nettie in so shy a tone that only her lips were seen moving, and Claude wished he were well enough acquainted to ask about the missing bag.
The girls felt a thrill of pride at their prominent position. Speaking to one of the show people was next to being a real actor, but they had to move on with the crowd which pressed around them.
Mr. Edmonds handed the beaming Laura a pretty book, which proved to be an illustrated copy of the Pilgrim's Progress, and with a partingau revoir, re-entered the box-office.
"Decidedly forward, keeping everyone back this way," said Mrs. Ramsey, who was slightly in the rear, having waited to fasten Vera's hat. "Alene Dawson is a bold piece! The idea of making everybody remove their hats! I was glad I wore a close-fitting bonnet or I'd actually have had to take mine off too. One can't be odd, you know!—Oh, there's Mr. Dawson! Good evening! Why don't you call upon me to chaperone Alene for you? She seems so forsaken, poor thing! I assure you I'll take her gladly any time with my girls!"
"You are very kind, but to-night is a sort of a Club affair I believe!"
"Club affair!"
"Is it the Happy-Go-Luckys?" inquired Hermione with a smile.
"Yes, Alene came on their invitation."
"But to be out so late, going home alone!" gasped the lady.
"She is never alone! Half a dozen of the girls and boys intend escorting her home to-night and, besides, you see I am not far in the rear!"
"What a likely tale!" cried Mrs. Ramsey, as the crowd carried the gentleman away. "As if the Lees or the Bonners could afford such an expense! I'll wager Fred Dawson paid for them all; but then he's always been odd—don't you remember that little foreigner he made such a fuss over because Mrs. Truby had him arrested for stealing? He actually spent a lot of money to get him off!"
"But the boy was innocent, mamma. Don't you remember how the lady found the money a long time afterward, where she had hidden and forgotten it?"
"But that is not the point—Fred Dawson didn't know he was innocent. And there's old Miss Marlin, the best teacher of painting and the languages in town—who charges outlandish prices because he upholds her, and he actually gives her a house, rent free!"
"She is his old teacher and very feeble! Dawson is a great-hearted fellow. In his quiet way he does more good than many of our famed philanthropists," said the usually silent Mr. Ramsey.
"Philanthropy, indeed! Were I Alene's mother I wouldn't like it at all, throwing his money away. If he doesn't marry, it will all go to Alene!"
"She will have plenty in any case; her father is very well fixed!" commented Mr. Ramsey.
"Is Alene an heiress?" cried Vera. "How funny! No one would ever guess it from her manner!"
"It's well you are not; you would want an air-ship in order to live up in the clouds above the heads of ordinary people! Alene has brains!" returned Hermione.
"An unspoiled child, I should judge," said her father.
"There's a club or something of that kind. I think it's a branch of the Sunshine Society," said Laura, as they sat under the trees on the terrace one bright afternoon, "that keeps a record of the birthdays of certain members who are sick or shut away from active life, and everybody is invited to a sort of surprise party, as it were; letters, books, or mementos of any kind are sent to reach the person on a certain date; it's a red-white-and-blue letter date for her, I guess—"
"Not blue," interrupted Ivy, "I'd call it a red letter day!"
"Well—" said Alene when Laura paused as if to ponder over something suggested by her words.
"Well," she returned, coming back to the present, to find her two friends waiting interestedly. "Well, it strikes me as a good idea for adoption by the Happy-Go-Luckys. It wouldn't be original with us, but if we wait to do only things which have never been done before, we may remain idle forever and ever, for there's nothing original under the sun."
"Except original sin," suggested Ivy.
Laura gave her a withering glance that included Alene who always found Ivy's sallies amusing. Perhaps Alene's smile on this occasion caused Ivy to continue:
"Yes, Lol, I've found that's true, especially when one's writing. If you put down something you think is decidedly fine or smart, you're sure to find that the Bible or Shakespeare or the Daily Observer in to-day's paper has said it all so much better! But excuse me, I'm interrupting you!"
Laura was too full of her subject to give more than a stiff little contraction of the lips to Ivy's digression; she went on to say:—
"Well, what made me think so much of the birthday idea was what Mother said when she came home from Mrs. Kump's this morning. The old lady lives all alone. She makes a living by doing odd jobs, so Mother wanted to get her to do some quilting. She does it beautifully, in an old-fashioned way that few understand now-a-days. When Mother got there she found her going round doing her work on her hands and knees—her feet were too sore to walk on. She told Mother she had been that way for a week. She was glad of the quilting, not having been able to do any other kind of work for some time. Mother was afraid she might be in actual want, but she didn't dare say a word for fear of offending her. Mrs. Kump happened to remark that Thursday, the day after to-morrow, is her birthday, and hearing that, just after reading about the birthday party, made me think of the Happy-Go-Luckys' 'Be kind' clause. So, girls, what do you think?" Laura turned to them a shining, expectant countenance.
"That we might set some birds a-flying straight to the poor old lady," was Alene's prompt reply.
"Yes, the birds will be the best in this case as it is rather quick time for flower seeds to take root and bloom," remarked Ivy.
"But these are a kind of magic flowers that spring up in a single night," said Alene.
"And who knows, some of them may turn out regular century plants. I read a poem not long ago, about a pebble cast upon the beach, that sent out ripples to the farther shore, which I suppose means that sometimes our smallest action may have a far reaching influence," said Ivy, who reclined on the grass, with her eyes fixed dreamily on the blue expanse of sky that stretched across the river and met the dark blue line of hills beyond.
"Come down out of the clouds! We have work to do and precious little time for its doing," cried Laura, giving her a shaking. She sat up laughing.
"Sounds like a sermon on the shortness of time! What's time to us children of eternity? But what shall we give to poor old Mrs. Kump?"
"That's the question," said Laura, glad to have arrived at something practical, a matter she often found rather difficult with Ivy. "Mother has promised a loaf of bread."
"And I'll ask Mother to give some rolls—but that's bread too; sounds so dry—I hate dry bread!"
"Kizzie always gives me a dish of honey for breakfast. I'll ask her for some of it, and Mrs. Major gets the loveliest little pats of butter from the country, marked with a dear little cow—I'm sure she will give me one!"
"Instead of a bird that will be a butterfly," interposed Ivy; "or a cowslip!"
"Or a buttercup and a honey-bee," returned Alene.
"You wretches! Here's one to get even. As Mrs. Kump works at quilting, we ought to send her a quilting-bee!"
Laura's sally was greeted with groans.
"Well, there's something you won't groan about. Mrs. Kump was lamenting that she couldn't go out to pick any berries this year and so will miss her jam. Let's go blackberrying to-morrow morning, if the boys will go along; we can get home before noon and I'll make her a jar of jam."
"Splendid!" cried Alene, "I've never gone berrying in my life!"
"What's the matter with you, Ivy? You are not usually so shy!"
"It will be too far for me," said Ivy dejectedly.
"Where did you think I meant to go? Why, just around the road, on the hillside near the bridge!"
"There's not a berry left there! Hugh went over this morning and found the bushes stripped! The nearest place is Thornley's, three miles away!"
"Then of course we won't go! I wonder if you could go horseback? I was thinking that Mat could borrow the groceryman's horse."
"No, Lol, I never learned to ride. Besides, it would be so jolty! The rest of you go without me; the walk will be only a pleasure for you!"
The girls protested against this; they talked of other things connected with Mrs. Kump's birthday party, and the blackberry project was apparently abandoned.
A bright thought had come to Alene, however, which she resolved to keep a secret until she found if she could carry out her plan.
It all depended on her uncle, whom she expected to come up the street at any moment, on his way home from the office. She jumped up when she saw him coming.
"Stay here, girls, until I speak to Uncle Fred."
She ran to the wall and climbed up at the spot where she had first seen her new friends.
Mr. Dawson crossed in answer to her call.
After a few moments' conversation she returned to the girls, saying gaily:—
"It's all right, he says we may have it!"
They gazed upon her wonderingly.
"What do you mean?"
Alene laughed.
"There, I forgot it was a secret. Well, here goes—All the horses are out at the farm now, but Uncle Fred says we may have the surrey if Mat can get a horse!"
Laura clapped her hands, and Ivy, who had been unusually silent and depressed in the last half hour, brightened and her face was fairly radiant with joy as she cried:
"Oh, Alene! You good fairy godmother! It's just like Cinderella and her pumpkin coach!"
"But we mustn't wear glass slippers," said Laura. "You see, Alene, when we go a-berrying we always wear our heaviest shoes and battered bonnets and patched dresses, for the thorns tear our shoes and clothes."
Alene's face clouded.
"I'm afraid I can't find a battered dress or a patched bonnet. Will I have to stay at home?"
"No, you goose! Just wear the plainest you have!"
As if in a dream Alene heard a voice:
"It's after five o'clock, Miss Alene. You better get up if you want to be ready by six!"
Alene sat up with a yawn. She blinked her eyes and gazed solemnly at the rosy, smiling face of the little maid.
"I wonder why it's so much easier to get up the night before!" she ejaculated.
Kizzie laughed as she crossed the room and raised the blinds. The lace curtains billowed in the fresh air and the soft light of dawn stole into the room. A pretty room it was, too, with blue and gray matting, blue tinted walls, its white stand and dresser, and little brass bed.
With another yawn Alene slipped her feet to the white rug beside the bed, stood up, and lifting her gown as if for a skirt dance, skipped lightly to a willow rocker which stood invitingly before one of the tall windows overlooking the terrace and the town.
"I'll run downstairs and get some breakfast ready, and then come back and help you with your hair and buttons," said Kizzie.
Alene knelt down beside the chair and buried her face in its blue cushions to say her morning prayers.
There was a time when she had first come to the Towers when to her regular prayers she always added a sort of petition—"Please, dear Lord, I am so lonely!"
Now her heart was filled with the beauty of the day, its promises of joy. She had so much that for herself there was nothing more to ask—only thanks to give, but for her friends, beginning with Mrs. Kump, the latest, and ending with her parents, the oldest and best beloved, she petitioned many blessings.
Only a few moments given to God, but they were a consecration for the day!
Alene rose with a song on her lips and proceeded with her bath and dressing. She found herself doing so many things now-a-days that a few months before would have seemed an impossibility.
"I used to be a bigger baby than Nettie or even Lois," she reflected as she buttoned her shoes and started to comb her hair. This was always a difficult task. The comb that went through those long locks so smoothly when manipulated by some one else, encountered many snarls, and Alene was glad when Kizzie came back to relieve her. A vigorous brushing and curling soon brought the refractory hair to the required state, and the glossy brown curls were finally tied at the nape of her neck with a bow of blue ribbon.
She was too excited to eat her breakfast; it was only Kizzie's reminder that, "Mr. Fred will ask if you ate a good breakfast. He will be displeased if you don't," that induced her to partake of anything.
She had scarcely finished her bowl of milk and crackers when the big gate clanged through the still air, then came a medley of gay voices; the walk resounded beneath the tread of light footsteps, and Prince's sonorous bark gave forth a challenge.
"There they come!"
"Here they are!" Alene rushed from the table.
She paused for a moment in the open doorway in sheer amazement and then she gave a peal of laughter.
"No wonder Prince was scared!" she cried.
For there stood the girls with their sunbonnets drawn over their faces, and their skirts spread out to display each rent and patch, of which there were not a few. Laura put one foot forward that a dilapidated shoe, from which her toes peeped, might not escape notice, and Ivy seemed proud of a pocket, turned inside out, that was apparently all holes.
A snickering sound came from the depths of the bonnets and then their laughter rang out loud and long.
"We had rehearsed a speech about tramping along the tracks all night, but I couldn't say a word to save my life when I saw your bewildered face!" explained Ivy when their mirth had subsided.
"You poor girl!" remarked Laura with a commiserating glance at Alene's neat blue gingham gown with its trimming of fancy braid; "is that the 'very worstest' you could scare up?"
"Kizzie helped me to look through my trunk and wardrobe and we couldn't find a thing plainer. I looked it over but there's not a tear in it! I might have sewed a patch on, but that would have been make-believe!"
Alene's tone was disconsolate.
"Well, never mind, come along! There's Hugh waiting near the gate and Mat's minding the rig! You needn't take your hat, I brought Nettie's bonnet; it will do fine. It's too big for her!"
They ran along the walk and scrambled into the surrey. The girls took the back seat, Hugh jumped in beside Mat, and with gay good-byes to Kizzie and Prince they were off on their way to the country.
The bells of the factories rang out, calling the men to work. Few pedestrians, however, were seen for the majority of the working people lived in the streets nearer the river, while the merchants and leisurely class occupied residences in the upper streets, along which they drove. Occasionally an energetic maid was seen cleaning the front steps or porch, and just on the out-skirts of the town they passed a group of boys going the same way, who eyed them curiously.
"Hey, Hughie," cried one, "where are you bound for?"
"Berryin'!"
"So are we!"
Mat gave the grocer's slow-going nag a touch that livened him and they were soon carried out of range of the lads.
"It's that Stony Road gang!" Hugh glanced round to explain.
"The ones who tried to steal our lunch that day? But I didn't see Mark Griffin with them—he's your fish-boy, Alene," said Ivy.
"I guess he'll join them later on; that's his home!"
Hugh pointed to a low stone house that stood some distance in from the road, beyond a well-trimmed hedge and broad stretch of lawn, with grape-arbors and barns showing in the rear.
"Why, his folks must be well off," said Laura in surprise.
"Old man Griffin owns the boat-yards over in Westville."
"Well, his son might find better company than that, surely!"
"Mark's been away at school most of his life and when he came home this vacation, the first thing we knew he was hobnobbing with that gang. They steal and play cards and torture animals!"
"Horrors!"
"I don't think he would torture anything, he doesn't look like that kind of a boy!" exclaimed Alene, warmly.
"Might as well be bad as in bad company," returned Hugh, with that "preacher air" of his which Alene always found exasperating.
"Mark and Jack Lever used to be thicker'n flies, but I've not seen 'em together this year," interposed Mat.
"Jack's fine as silk, couldn't stand the Stony Road pace, I guess! Fact is, I haven't seen him for six weeks. He's never in his father's store; must be out of town."
"Gee up!" interposed Mat. "If I didn't keep up a perpetual song, I believe Old Hurricane'd stop still and never go on again; can easily see he used to be a race horse!"
"Yes, he always raced the last few yards home for his grub!"
"He's doing splendiferous. Only for him we wouldn't be here, so don't spurn the ladder by which we climb," cried Ivy.
"Well, he'd make a better ladder than anything else, he's so bony; besides that he'd rather stand still any day and let us climb him!"
"You ungrateful Mat! But, Oh, girls and boys, to sit and let the air blow upon us, and feast our eyes on the glorious sunrise and the lovely green fields and flowers! The air is like champagne I tasted once, kind of thin and clear and nippy and refreshing!"
"If I knew you were a boozer, Miss Bonner, nothing would have induced me to undertake the management of this nervous racer. If the air brings on an attack of the delirium tremenjous, how can I manage the two of you?"
"Just manage your own tongue, Mr. Lee, but that would be an impossibility," said Ivy.
"Talking of wine and things reminds me of Claude," said Laura. "I overtook him coming down street the other day and we walked together. He stopped to peer in at the bars of the jail. 'I'd hate to be put in a stall like the poor drunkards.' (He called them Dunkards.) 'And I'm sure you never will, Claude,' said I. He threw back his shoulders and said, 'Well, I drank root-beer till I was six years old and then swore off and haven't drank a drop since!' I could have screeched!"
Hugh laughed heartily.
"The little scamp! He insisted on taking the pledge when I did last year! The temperance lecturer was here. He was a speaker, I can tell you! When he cried that ancient warning:
'Young men, Ahoy there!'What is it?''The rapids are below you.'
I could see some of our old soaks shrinking in their seats; and when he wound up, 'Shrieking, howling, blaspheming, over they go,' it was simply immense! There was such a stampede for the platform that you'd think we were drowning, and scrambling for life-buoys. I knew from the way Mother spoke when I set out for the hall that she would like me to pledge myself. Someway I didn't see any use in it, but that lecturer made me see lots of things, so I up and followed old man Potter who hadn't drawn a sober breath ever since I could remember. Claude clung to my coat-tails. "I want a ribbon, too!" he screamed. The lecturer gave one look at the little shaver and the crowd roared as he pinned a badge on the boy's coat. Ah, here we are at the patch!"
Mat turned the horse into a lane leading to the left.
"Here's your bonnet, Alene," cried Laura. "Don't forget the buckets, boys!"
Mat tied Old Hurricane to the fence beneath a shady tree and they started for the nearest clump of bushes, each carrying a tin cup, which, when filled with berries, was to be emptied into one of the buckets placed at a convenient spot.
Alene gave a gasp of joy, when parting the branches she found an abundance of delicious fruit. Her first scratch, a tiny one on the back of her hand, was proudly exhibited to the others.
"How many have you eaten?" inquired Laura.
"Not a one!"
"Show your tongue, little girl," said Ivy in a doubting tone. "Why, you poor thing, you haven't tasted one! Look at mine," she opened her mouth.
"Poor Mrs. Kump!" said Alene.
The others laughed.
"Oh, there will be plenty for her. Eat all you wish, Alene; Mat and Hugh are noted pickers, there's no fear of our taking home empty buckets," said Laura.
Alene's lips were soon in the same state as Ivy's. The air had given her a sharp appetite, and when in the course of the morning, Laura found a package of sandwiches and tarts hidden under the seat of the surrey, she declared that nothing had ever tasted quite so good as the portion she disposed of, along with her tin of clear cold water from a neighboring well.
While enjoying luncheon her eyes wandered over the berry patch which sloped gently upward to the road. A great many children and a few men and women were scattered over the field, stripping the bushes.
Across the patch a barred gate led to fields of pasture, and some of the boys on the safe side of the fence were goading a great red bull into a state of frenzy.
As he tossed his head and bellowed, stamping and goring the ground, Alene was glad there was a strong fence between them. She thought she recognized among the mischievous lads one of the crowd they had passed on the road in the early morning.
The girls brushed away the crumbs of the feast and went back to the bushes, while the boys returned the borrowed water bucket to its owner, who lived a short distance up the lane.
Alene was busy picking the ripe berries from an unusually heavy-laden branch, rejoicing to see her measure filling so rapidly, when she heard a terrified shriek.
She jumped to her feet, letting the cup fall from her grasp, and turned to find the other girls standing with horror-stricken faces, gazing across the patch. In a moment she knew what had happened. The wide, barred gate had become unfastened in some way, probably by one of the boys. It was standing wide open and the angry bull had come through and was seen tearing like a mad creature in the middle of the patch.
Everyone sought places of safety, the small children clinging to their elders with frightened cries, while one or two of the more courageous young men who tried to head the animal and turn him back to his pasture were compelled to fly, to escape injury.
The three girls stood for a moment as if paralyzed; then Laura grasped Ivy's arm.
"Quick, quick, to the fence! He's coming straight upon us!"
"It's my red dress," gasped Ivy.
Alene glanced round. She saw they were not far from the fence but that it would be necessary to skirt a row of thick-grown bushes in order to reach it. Could they do so in time?
In the meantime Mat and Hugh, returning leisurely along the lane, were startled into activity by the sight that met their view. Their gaze at once sought the place where they had left the girls. It was deserted; but not far away, Ivy's dress made a bright spot that immediately held their glance, and the bull apparently had singled it out for attack; his mad flight led straight in the path of the girls.
The boys, with one impulse, made a dash across the fence; with clenched hands and set teeth they stumbled onward; but alas, they were too far away to render any help!
And then an unlooked-for actor appeared upon the scene; a boyish figure, supple and well built, sprang, as if miraculously, out of a dense clump of bushes, just beyond the terror-stricken girls.
With a ringing shout he darted straight in front of the infuriated brute, and flung his coat defiantly in its eyes. Angry and snorting, it tossed the coat aside and started after its tormentor.
The trembling girls, thus suddenly and unexpectedly rescued from their peril, found new anxiety for the safety of their brave deliverer.
With bated breath they watched him as, having succeeded in diverting the attention of the enemy, he half circled the field with the maddened creature in hot pursuit, so close at times that he felt its hot breath on his neck.
Always heading in one direction, toward the open gate of the pasture field, the boy led the race, and finally breathless and almost exhausted, he gained the goal.
Through the gate he ran and gave, as he cleared it, a sudden jump to one side, while the momentum of the bull carried it forward and beyond him. A moment later he stood in the friendly grass of the berry-patch, with the gate closed securely between him and the foe.
"It's Mark Griffin!" cried Ivy.
"Yes, I knew him at once," returned Alene.
The three girls clapped their hands joyfully, starting a round of applause. Soon from every part of the patch came cheers and shouts and whistling; a small boy, who perhaps was the cause of all the trouble, scrambled from a tree near the big gate with a whoop that would have startled an Indian brave. He ran across the field, picked up the coat from where it lay on the ground almost in ribbons, and returned it to its owner.
With a humorous glance at the crumpled and grass-stained object Mark flung it over his shoulder and, followed by the urchin and one or two other boys, started away from the field and was soon out of sight down the lane.
"He wouldn't wait a minute," explained Hugh apologetically, when he and Mat returned to the girls.
Ivy curled her lip.
"There's a great deal in the way things are asked," she said, and Hugh knew she was offended.
"Who wouldn't run away from a lot of girls ready to slobber over him with thanks and prayers?" said Mat with a broad grin.
"As if we would make him a courtesy and say, 'Thank you, sir, for saving my life!'" retorted Ivy.
Hugh busied himself picking up the tins and the upset buckets. He sympathized with Mark's dislike of a scene.
"Any of you fellows would have done the same if you had the chance," the latter had said.
"Did she expect us to bring a fellow by the coat collar to be thanked? Girls are queer, they always enjoy fussing and the limelight," concluded Hugh. He kept resolutely away from them.
"What's the matter with Hugh?" whispered Laura after a time.
"Why?"
"He seems kind o' grumpy."
Ivy picked out a monster berry and put it into her mouth.
"The wind's changing I guess! Boys are like weather-vanes, you never can tell what way they're going next!"
Laura smiled at the idea of comparing staid, dependable Hugh with anything so uncertain as a weather-vane.
Ivy kept on filling her tin cup and pretended not to pay any attention to her brother. She knew her uncalled-for, sarcastic remark had offended him. Had it been anyone else, she would have made ample apology, but it was only poor old Hugh—it was not necessary to trouble herself about him. He would "come round" after while, as he always did. No matter how far in the wrong Ivy might be, it was always Hugh who made the first advances toward a reconciliation. Perhaps if he had waited longer, Ivy might have behaved differently, but Hugh never waited.
Sure enough, he soon gave signs of the "coming round" process, but instead of "coming round" to Ivy with a handful of flowers he had found, he gave them to Alene.
After that it was to Alene he came when he had an especially large berry to show; he insisted upon her eating it; he compared the state of his tin cup and hers, and they made a wager as to whose cup would be filled the first.
His celerity amazed Alene.
"How can you fill yours so quickly?"
"By sticking to a good bush when I find one!"
"You girls lose time by flitting from bush to bush like butterflies," added Mat.
"We are more like busy bees, Mat. We gather only the best as we fly! There's Laura, no boy can beat her picking berries," said Ivy.
"I believe there's a good deal in what Hugh says," remarked Laura, "not only in berry picking, but in work and study. We accomplish more by sticking to one thing at a time. They say 'Beware of the man of one book.'"
"I would indeed be beware of him. He'd be an insufferable bore!" retorted Ivy, as she moved away to another bush.
"Now we will transmigrate ourselves into robins and do the 'babes in the wood' act!"
Ivy gazed at the speaker compassionately.
"Has the poor boy gone daffy?"
Mat pointed to the two buckets, by that time filled with berries.
"We will cover them over with leaves!"
"Do you know what Claude does when he's angry or out of humor?" inquired Ivy.
"Throws himself on the floor and kicks, I guess!"
"No, he runs to a corner and hides his face!"
"Well?"
"If I were you, I'd follow his example!"
"But I'm not angry or out of humor with you, Ivy. On the contrary, I feel as mild as a lamb, and I'm so razzle-dazzle-dizzled pleased with getting these buckets filled in spite of you girls, that I could—could—"
"Please don't, whatever it is you could do, be wise and don't do it!"
"What's the time?" asked Laura.
"Eleven A.M.!"
"Are you sure of the A.M.?"
"I'm surer of it than of the eleven! I made a guess at that!"
"We'd better start home. It will take some time to make the jam and get Mrs. Kump's basket ready," said Laura.
Mat made a horn of his hands and gave a yell.
"What's that for?"
"To call our party in."
"We don't want everybody in the field; we're all here but Alene and Hugh."
"Where are they? Haven't seen 'em for some time! Ah, here they come!"
"Hugh took me over to see a thrush's nest," explained Alene. Her face glowed with animation beneath Nettie's pink lined bonnet; her lips and fingers were stained with berries and Laura asked herself if this could be the white-cheeked, forlorn, little Peggy-Alone she had seen standing beside Prince on the terrace just a couple of months before.
They trooped gaily into the carriage, Mat again took the reins and away they went on the return trip.
They came into the town by a different route, which led past the Ramseys' buff cottage.
"There's Vera and her mother and some ladies sitting on the porch," remarked Alene.
"And see, there's Hermione at an upstairs window," said Ivy.
The girls waved their hands to that smiling friend and the boys gallantly doffed their hats as they raced Old Hurricane past the house.
Mrs. Ramsey gazed after the vehicle with a look of amazement. She had obtained a glimpse of the girls, in their print dresses and sunbonnets, but had failed to recognize them.
"Who can they be?"
"They evidently know you," said one of the ladies, smilingly. "Didn't you see that little curly-headed girl swinging her bonnet?"
"Not at us, surely!"
Vera smiled at her mother's shocked tone.
"That was Ivy Bonner; they were waving at Hermione upstairs."
"I thought it looked like Dawson's rig, but surely Alene wasn't—"
"Yes, she was there, with her face all stained with berry juice! I guess they were out picking blackberries!"
Mrs. Ramsey raised her eyes in despair. "What does Fred Dawson mean by allowing it? If that poor child's mother only knew!"
It was eight o'clock when Jed Granger, a youth of eighteen, who acted as a sort of under gardener at the Towers, left a hamper at the Lee home.
"Here's a note from Alene," explained Laura, running her eyes over the sheet of tinted paper. "Of all the foolish things to do!"
Ivy sat beside the kitchen table, writing a neat label for Mrs. Kump's jar of jam. She glanced up at Laura.
"Well?"
"Just listen! Mother, listen to this!"
"Laura Dear:—
Good luck! Uncle Fred gave me two dollars to buy something for Mrs. Kump. Didn't have time to consult you or Ivy but I know you will be pleased! It's on top of the hamper. Be sure and look at it.
Good-bye!"Alene D."
"Candy! Let's look at it!"
Laura, still wearing a look of disgust, opened the package, displaying a box of pale blue and silver tied with narrow ribbons, which after a careful untying and lifting of the lid disclosed a splendor of lace-work and tinsel-paper, over layer upon layer of bon bons and candied fruit, with a cute little silver tongs.
"Delicious! And what a beautiful box!"
"It's certainly very fine!"
"But for old Mrs. Kump!" cried Laura. "The money or something substantial would do so much better!"
"There's plenty of substantials in Alene's hamper," said Mrs. Lee. "Butter, coffee, tea."
"But this fine candy and the ribbons and fixings! It's like throwing the money away!" said Laura sharply, as she wrapped up the box and replaced it on the hamper.
Though Ivy had doubts of the usefulness of Alene's gift, she felt a certain satisfaction in having it to send along with the more practical things; she wished she had a volume of her own poetry, bound in blue with the name just as she had often pictured it in silver letters, "Early Blossoms," to send; it would go so well with Alene's box. Laura's condemnation, however, made this seem a foolish desire, which she would not dare to mention.
They returned to the work of getting everything ready for the boys to carry to Mrs. Kump. Ivy completed her label and pasted it on the jar, where the fancy initials looked effective. Laura and her mother proceeded with the packing. The former still wore a disapproving countenance and her vexation hung round them like a cloud.
"This reminds me of something that happened to me once upon a time," said Mrs. Lee, who had occasion to move the hamper. Ivy smiled encouragingly.
"Ob, a story, a story! Come and sit here, Lol, and listen!"
"Once upon a time," Mrs. Lee began, "I and my cousin Clementina, just about my own age, ten years, were the best of chums, even thicker than you Happy-Go-Lucky girls, for we had just ourselves to play with, all the other members of both families being much older; the next in age was my sister Roxana, going on sixteen. Clemmie and I used to watch the store windows and I remember one day we stood transfixed at a new display in Smithley's drug store. In addition to drugs, they sold many other things, so there we stood, Clemmie admiring a pair of pink garters with silver buckles, while I looked longingly at a volume ofJane Eyre.
"'Only thirty cents! If I only had a pair!' sighed Clementina.
"'A dollar and a half,' I lamented, for in those days there were no cheap editions of books.
"Day after day on our way to and from school we stopped before our idols. Clem told me she often dreamed of that pair of garters with its shining buckles!
"'Saturday's my birthday; if some kind, rich old gentleman would happen along and adopt me before then, the first thing I'd ask for would be a pair of pink garters like these!'
"That day when I reached home I found a small package which my godmother, Mrs. Keyes, had left for me. It was a pretty handkerchief with my initial in the corner, and knotted inside was a silver half dollar. To me that was quite a fortune and Roxana gave me much advice as to its disposal, but I scarcely heard what she said; I was thinking of something else; you can guess what it was."
"Yes, we know, we know," cried Ivy.
"Friday evening, I sneaked away from Clem and went to Smithley's.
"I could hardly control my voice to speak when the proprietor came forward. I had come to a halt near the show window.
"'What's your lowest price forJane Eyre?' I found myself saying.
"'A dollar and a half. It's a most fascinating book, but for your own reading I'd advise—'
"'Thank you, sir, but I think I'll buy those.'
"I pointed to the garters. Mr. Smithley wrapped them up and tied the package with a pink and white cord.
"I could hardly wait to get home before opening the precious parcel. I wanted to show it to mother the first thing, but she was not in and I proudly displayed it to Roxana. She eyed the garters dubiously.
"'Very easily soiled! How much did you pay for them?'
"'Thirty cents, at Smithley's.'
"'Thirty cents! The idea! For something you can't wear!'
"'I don't intend wearing them! It's my present for Clementina's birthday!'
"'You foolish thing! Why didn't you consult me? A pair of black ones would wear so much longer!'
"Roxana's manner did not chill my pleasure. I went upstairs and wrote an inscription on a card:—
"'For Clementina on her Tenth Birthday, from Edna,' and placed it with the garters.
"I could hardly wait for the next day! I pictured Clem's surprise and rapture.
"Mother came home, and after supper I slipped away to get the package to show to her. I knew when I returned to the sitting-room, that Roxana had told her about my purchase and how she regarded it.
"She said it was pretty but—well, they kept on about it, until I began to think myself a culprit. I could hardly see the pink garters for my tears. At last Roxana suggested an exchange. By that time I didn't care for anything; all my pleasure in the gift was spoiled.
"'I'll not give Clementina anything,' I said.
"'Don't be unreasonable, child, the black garters will be so useful,' chided my mother.
"'But Clementina admired these!'
"'She never dreamed of owning them, though,' said Roxana.
"'Yes, she did!'
"Well, it resulted in Roxana's carrying off my foolish purchase and coming back with her sensible one.
"I can smile at it now, but at the time it was a real tragedy to me. Mother never suspected my disappointment. We were all so used to accepting Roxana's opinions as laws that to rebel against them would lay oneself open to the charge of treason.
"Well, the next day I went to Clementina's. She came running down to the front gate to meet me.
"'Happy birthday,' I faltered, thrusting the little package into her hands.
"'Why, Edna,' she said, but I hurried away, not daring to wait to see her open it.
"That was apparently the end of our friendship.
"When we met again, Clementina treated me very coolly; I was terribly cut up but I did not blame her. I knew it would have been better taste not to have given her anything, but it was too late then.
"For several days we kept apart.
"I avoided Smithley's window, but one day I stopped before it almost in spite of myself. There hung the pink garters, with their shining buckles. They seemed to mock my chagrin. Then all at once Clementina stood at my side. She held out her hand!
"'Forgive me, Edna, I might have known it was Roxana!'
"My lip trembled.
"'Carrie Smithley told me just now. You see, she was in the store when you bought the pink garters and when Roxana returned them she told Mr. Smithley what a foolish thing you had bought; she said you were too stubborn to come back yourself and she had to do it. She always had to do the things the rest of the family shirked!'
"I had to smile at Clem's mimicking Roxana, it was so true to life.
"Poor Clem! She said she never expected me to give her anything, but when she opened the parcel and saw the black garters, she rushed into the darkened parlor and cried and cried, on the sofa behind the door! Not because of the garters, but because she expected different treatment from me—'It just seemed like a slap in the face,' she said."
"I guess it did," murmured Ivy. "Is that the end?"
"There's a kind of a sequel," said Mrs. Lee with a smile. "Clementina gave a glance into Smithley's window.
"'Say, Edna, would you care if—'
"'Oh, Clem, I'd be so glad!' said I."
"And so it ended happily after all!" cried Ivy.
"Yes; and Cousin Clem has them to this day—put away in a cedar box that belonged to her mother!"
Laura smiled rather doubtfully.
"And of course there's a moral, Mother Lee, but this is different!"
Going home, Ivy talked the matter over with her mother.
"I'm inclined to take Mrs. Lee's view. The poem says 'Give to the hungry potatoes,' but I guess it doesn't mean to give potatoes only!" said that lady.