AT CLARA'S HOUSE
Peggy was walking up the long avenue that led to Clara's house. She had
had a wonderful afternoon. "Only I haven't been punished at all,"
thought Peggy. This was because old Michael had arrived with his seed
catalogues soon after her mother left, and, as he was one of her best
friends, Peggy was very happy.
"Mother will be back soon," said Peggy. "Let's play that I am mother,
and we'll look at all the pictures of flowers and vegetables and mark
the ones I want, just as she does."
Old Michael was quite ready to play the game, only he said it might be
confusing to her mother if they marked the catalogues; so Peggy got a
sheet of her own best note-paper, with some children in colored frocks
at the top of it.
"It's a pity to waste that good paper," said he.
"It's my own paper, Mr. Farrell," said Peggy, in a grown-up voice. "You
forget that I am Mrs. Owen and can do as I please."
"Sure enough, ma'am, I did forget," he said as he looked at the small
lady in her blue frock.
"Peonies, poppies, portulaca," said Peggy; "we'll have a lot of all of
those, Mr. Farrell. And we'll have the poppies planted in a lovely
ring."
"It was vegetables we were to talk about to-day, ma'am," said Mr.
Farrell respectfully. "How many rows of string-beans do you want to
start with, and how many butter-beans? And are you planning to have peas
and corn and tomatoes?"
"Mother is planning to can things to sell," Peggy began. "Oh, dear, I
forgot I was mother! I think a hundred rows of string-beans will be
enough to start with, Mr. Farrell. I am afraid that is all my children
can take care of. They are to help me with the garden. We haven't much
money; and we have to earn some or Peggy may have to go to live with her
grandmother, and I just couldn't stand that. I could not be separated
from my child; and Peggy and Alice must always be together. Perhaps you
can't understand this, Mr. Farrell, never having been a mother yourself.
It is no laughing matter," she said, looking at old Michael reprovingly.
Her mother came a great deal too soon; and she did not approve of all of
Peggy's suggestions about the garden. "Run along now, Peggy, and get the
yeast-cake, and don't bother us any more," she said unfeelingly.
Surely no little girl had ever gone to the village and back so quickly
as Peggy went. She resisted the temptation to get two yeast-cakes, for
fear one might not be fresh, thinking it wiser to do exactly as her
mother said.
And now, as she was walking between the rows of trees, she could hardly
wait to see Clara. She had not seen her since Thanksgiving Day.
There were three men at work at the Hortons' place, raking leaves and
uncovering the bushes in the rose garden. Peggy was glad they did not
have so many people at work. It was much more fun doing a lot of the
work one's self and talking things over with old Michael. Mrs. Horton
was talking with the man in the rose garden. He looked cross as if he
did not like to be interrupted. Mrs. Horton was short and plump, with
beautifully fitting clothes, but she never looked half so nice, in spite
of them, as Peggy's mother did in her oldest dresses, for Mrs. Owen
carried her head as if she were the equal of any one in the land.
Mrs. Horton looked pleased when she saw Peggy. She shook hands with her
and said how tall she had grown. Peggy was tired of hearing this. And
then she told her that the children were up in the apple tree. "You can
go right through the house and out at the other door," she said. "The
path is too muddy. Miss Rand will let you in. We are camping out; we
haven't brought any of the servants with us."
They only had the care-taker and her husband and these men on the place.
If this was camping out, Peggy wondered what she and her mother and
Alice were doing, with nobody but themselves to do anything, except old
Michael or Mrs. Crozier for an occasional day.
Miss Rand opened the door for Peggy. She was a small, slim little thing,
with big frightened eyes with red rims. She looked as if she had been
crying. Peggy wondered what the trouble was. She felt sorry for her, so
she gave her a kiss and a big hug and said how glad she was to see her.
And Miss Rand smiled and her face looked as if the sun had come out. She
was very nice-looking when she smiled.
"You are the same old Peggy," said Miss Rand, and Peggy was so grateful
to her for not saying how tall she had grown that she stopped and told
her all about Lady Jane and how she lived first at one house and then at
the other; for Miss Rand had a heart for cats, and it was a trial to her
that Mrs. Horton would never have one.
Speaking of Lady Jane, Peggy had an awful feeling that she had slipped
out of the kitchen door when old Michael came in. "I didn't see her
after he left when I went into the kitchen for a drink of water," said
Peggy. "Wouldn't that be too bad?"
"It would be nice for Diana to have a little visit from her," said Miss
Rand.
"Do you know Diana?"
"Yes, I used to teach in a school near where they lived. She came to
school when she was well enough, and when she wasn't I gave her lessons
at home. She is a dear child."
But Peggy was getting too impatient to see Clara to stop to hear more
about Diana. So she went through the wide hall and out of the other door
to the brick terrace and down the steps that led to the formal garden
and the orchard beyond. A peacock was strutting about as if he owned the
place. His tail looked so very beautiful that Peggy felt a little
envious. "I wish people could wear ready-made clothes as lovely as his,"
she thought. "They are much nicer than my blue frocks, and they can
never get spoiled."
She ran quickly along past the pool, where the water-lilies would
blossom later on, to the orchard. In one of the nearest apple trees
there was a platform built around it with a flight of steps leading up
to it. It was what the children called the apple tree house. Here Clara
and Alice were playing dolls. Peggy could seldom be induced to play
dolls. She ran up the steps and made a dash for Clara. Clara, in a lilac
frock, was sitting primly on one of the wooden chairs with which the
platform was furnished. Her hair was a darker brown than Alice's, and
her face had the pallor of the city child who has lived indoors all
winter. She was rather a stiff little girl in her manners, and however
glad she might feel inside at seeing Peggy again, she did not show it.
She submitted to being kissed and hugged gravely as if she were taking a
doctor's prescription, and she kissed Peggy's cheek with a gentle peck.
"Dear me, but you have grown a lot," said Clara.
"Well, I can't help it if I have," said Peggy.
She felt cross and a little hurt because Clara had not seemed any more
glad to see her when she had been just crazy to see Clara. Miss Rand had
been delighted to see her, and even Mrs. Horton had seemed more glad
than Clara. Only the peacock and Clara had seemed proud. Perhaps Clara
had been afraid Peggy would rumple her dress. It was a very lovely
shimmery dress with smocking. Peggy liked dresses that were smocked. She
seated herself on a branch of the apple tree and began to swing back and
forth. She was never shy herself, so it did not occur to her that Clara
was shy. There did not seem to be anything to say, and it seemed a long,
long time, since Thanksgiving Day, when she had last seen Clara, and as
if they would have to get acquainted all over again.
"Did you have a nice journey?" said Peggy.
"No, horrid! I'm always car-sick. Father's coming for us and we are
going back in the automobile."
"That will be great fun," said Peggy.
"It will be better than the train," said Clara, "but it's a long ride,
and I always get awfully tired."
"Do you?" said Peggy, swinging back and forth again.
"How long your legs are," said Clara.
Peggy stopped short in her swinging. "If you say anything about my legs
I shall go crazy," she announced. Then she climbed as high in the apple
tree as she could get and dared them to come and join her. "Come up into
my house, you short-legged people," she called down. "I have a room in a
tower and there are windows in it, and I can see all over the place.
Come up here--why don't you come?"
"Don't be cross, Peggy," said Alice. "You know I am scared to, and Clara
would spoil her dress if she climbed up there."
"What are dresses for if you can't climb trees in them?" Peggy called
down.
"I wish I had a frock like yours, it is such a pretty color," said
Clara, who always liked other people's things better than her own.
The compliment to her dress restored Peggy's good humor. She was very
seldom cross, and she felt thoroughly ashamed of herself. So she
condescended to play dolls with Clara and Alice, and there was no fun so
great as to have Peggy play dolls. She put them through such adventures
and made them have such narrow escapes that the little mothers were
positively thrilled. So it was a very happy afternoon for every one,
even for Miss Rand, who came out just before it was time for the
children to go home, with a tray on which there was a pitcher of
something nice and cold that tasted of orange, and some small doughnuts.
Miss Rand sat down on an apple branch, which seat she preferred to a
chair, and she sang for them, at Peggy's request, some Scotch songs, in
a sweet contralto voice.
"It has been a nice afternoon," said Peggy, as she kissed Clara
good-bye, and this time Clara gave her a most responsive kiss.