BASKETS AND HUMBLE FRIENDS
Monday brought a Betty “chastened in spirit,” she said, to school.
She had spent Saturday and Sunday in bed for the most part and
walked to her classes without animation. At lunch the girls, though
sorry, could not help laughing over her comical remarks. She had had
nothing to do but “think of her sins of omission and commission,”
she told them, and worst of all, this morning, at the last minute,
she and Carolyn remembered that the lesson they “had ahead” was
Cicero and they always had _prose_ on Monday!
“Was that why your hand didn’t go up as usual?” cried Peggy Pollard.
“I thought it was your cold and that you were half sick!”
“That is what I’m hoping all my teachers thought this morning; but I
could look over my work in bed, so I didn’t ask to be excused from
reciting. I thought I could get through.” Betty sighed. “I never had
half sympathy enough for girls who aren’t strong.”
“I’m so glad you’ve had this lesson,” said a plump and rosy Carolyn.
“I’m so delicate!”
Dotty Bradshaw hooted at this and Mary Emma Howland reminded Betty
that there was a meeting after school to see about the Thanksgiving
basket that Lyon “Y” was to send or take. “You can come and preside,
can’t you, Betty?”
“I think so,” said Betty, brightening a little, “but I’m only the
president, not the committee, though I was on it.”
“You’ll have to appoint a new committee, Betty,” said Kathryn, “for
the chairman of the usual committee is a friend of Clara’s and I
heard her say that the election ‘let her out.’”
Betty looked sober. She recalled the disagreeable experience of
Thursday night, of which she had thought many times during those two
days of being shut in. The ideals of a Girl Reserve group called for
a pleasant spirit on the part of its president. “Well, girls, we’ll
just wait and see what happens. Can I count on all of you to help me
out? I think we don’t want a bit of trouble and whatever the girls
want to do, we’ll just accept it, though sorry, you know.”
Carolyn nodded her approval and Kathryn said that they would stand
shoulder to shoulder and “eye to eye!” “By the way, Betty, Chauncey
said that he would drive us wherever we have to take that basket. He
said we oughtn’t to go to some places without a ‘guard’ and that he
would be it.”
“That takes a load off my shoulders,” replied the new president.
“Father can’t do it and I thought I’d find out from Miss Street how
they managed it. I wasn’t on the committee last year. Miss Hogarth
is the one who tells us about the families, you know, but Miss
Street will consult her. Mary Emma, may I appoint you a committee of
one to see every girl and tell her to be sure to bring what she
promised—sugar, flour—I have the list somewhere—on Wednesday I’ll
announce it at the meeting but not everybody will be there.”
Mary Emma promised and then some one mentioned the other sad
omission that made it a “blue Monday,” the fact that there had been
no celebration of their victory. “They might have had a nice
assembly this morning to celebrate,” said Dotty.
“Miss Orme said that it was bad enough to have ordinary ‘Monday’
lessons,” chuckled Peggy, “without an assembly to ball up the
program and make things worse; and the principal must have agreed
with her. Miss Heath said that it would have been pleasant, but she
didn’t seem enthusiastic either.”
“We celebrated on the spot,” said Kathryn, with a picture of the
rejoicing stadium in her mind.
Betty said nothing. She was tired. She would have welcomed an
assembly, but it did not matter. The morning was over. But Mary Emma
brought up one incident as they left the lunch room side by side. “I
_thought_ it was funny that you were rejoicing about having your
Cicero out ahead; but I knew you kept ahead on your schedule
whenever possible, so it never occurred to me to remind you of
prose-comp on Monday!”
Betty gave Mary Emma a comical look, but they hurried on to the next
duty.
At the Lyon “Y” meeting after school, Betty was relieved to find
that only the chairman of the committee had resigned. She promptly
appointed the proper one of the committee to take her place and
filled the vacancy by appointing Kathryn, for the very good reason
that Chauncey would then be properly available as chauffeur and
guard. Mary Emma was duly appointed as a special committee of one to
take charge of reminding and notifying and to help with gathering
in.
On Wednesday afternoon there was great activity about the room in
which the committee met. Chauncey, looking like a larger edition of
Kathryn, stuck his head inside of the door to call to Betty. “Be
back in a minute, Betty. I’ve got to get the car, you know. If it
isn’t out there, I’ll have to go home for it. Tried to arrange to
have it brought, but ‘Ah dunno!’”
Betty ran from a confusion of girls and bundles to speak to him and
Kathryn, bending over a basket, looked up to nod brightly at her
brother. “There isn’t the least hurry, Chauncey,” said Betty.
“You’ll have plenty of time to go home by street car if you have to.
So much has been brought in, more than we asked for, that I think
we’ll fix two baskets. We can stop to buy two or three things that
weren’t duplicated.”
“Need another basket?” asked Chauncey, looking at the array.
“Oh, yes, Chauncey,” called Kathryn. “Get one of ours. You know
where.”
That settled one matter. Betty had thought they would stop at a
grocery and buy one as they finished their shopping. There were many
little details to carry out in making up Thanksgiving baskets, Betty
found. Mary Emma was the one responsible for the extra donations.
She was now defending herself to a senior member of the committee.
“Well, I know we planned one basket and I saw everybody who was to
bring the things for that, but when other girls were interested and
wanted to bring something I couldn’t refuse, could I? It was just
started by some of them when they overheard what I said to
somebody.”
“Why, Mary Emma,” said Betty, “somebody will bless you for getting
more. We’ve got enough money from what you collected to get the rest
we need to fill out. The only question is where’s it going. Mary
Emma, please go to find Miss Hogarth. She can’t have gone home yet.
I wonder where Miss Street is.”
“She was called home. I forgot to tell you, Betty,” said one of the
girls. “She was all worried about our going all alone and told us to
see Miss Hogarth. She telephoned from home. Somebody’s sick. I told
her that one of the girls’ brother, a senior, was going to drive us
to the address and she was awfully relieved.”
“Then that’s that,” said Betty, consulting her list to see if
everything in the one large basket was checked off properly. The
rest of the bundles they gathered together, after examination, and
made a list of the articles needed for the second basket. Mary Emma
returned from seeing Miss Hogarth to say that everybody on Miss
Hogarth’s list had been provided for and that if the girls had so
much, she’d advise their taking it to the Associated Charities.
Some of the girls liked that idea and others did not. There was a
brief argument about the matter till Betty suggested that they
deliver the first basket and then decide about the other. “We might
see some place where a basket is needed, you know,” she said.
They waited a little for Chauncey, who arrived, however, sooner than
they thought it possible, since it had turned out to be necessary
for him to go home. Budd LeRoy accompanied him to the door of the
room where the girls waited, such of them as were ably to accompany
the expedition. The boys carried the baskets, two of them now, since
Chauncey had found one at home, and the girls helped with packages
that were in danger of being dropped off. “Please remember which
baskets those things came from,” Betty reminded them and they
started, through the halls and down the stairs, to the basement and
outer door at the rear, in great mirth and spirits.
“Is this the relief corps!” asked Mr. Franklin, whom they met on the
way, and several gay voices answered him.
When the car finally rolled out of the drive upon the wide
thoroughfare with its procession of swift machines, there were Budd
and Chauncey in front, Betty, Kathryn and one senior girl, whom
Betty knew, though not very well, occupying the back. Mary Emma
could not go with them and the others, who were either on the
committee or were helping after bringing in their contributions, had
scattered.
Betty and the senior, Lilian Norris, a sister of Ted’s friend, Harry
Norris, went into the grocery, at which they stopped, to purchase
the extra articles. “Let’s stick in a little candy,” suggested
Lilian, looking at some tempting supplies in a glass case.
“Yes, let’s,” assented Betty. “I’ve some money of my own along.”
“So have I,” said Lilian. “There are some kiddies in this family.”
The car went on, Chauncey quiet and skilful in his driving. He
avoided the main avenues of traffic in getting through the center of
the town to a district quite unknown to Betty. There stood old
houses, once occupied by one family, with first, second and third
floors and basement. Now every floor housed more than one family,
who lived in these close quarters because they could not pay a
higher rent, though many of them paid far too much for having a roof
over their heads, whatever hardships of living in this way was
theirs.
The young people hushed their conversation and the car went slowly
where children played in the street or wagons and trucks blocked the
way. “It has to be in this square, Chauncey,” said Kathryn, looking
at the address which Betty had handed her. Chauncey and Kathryn knew
the names of the streets, though from time to time Chauncey glanced
at the street signs.
Now a shrill siren called and Chauncey drew the Allen car as close
to the sidewalk as possible, while a car whied by and was followed
by the dashing fire-trucks. “Oh, poor things,” cried Kathryn, “think
of having a fire in one of those houses!”
They could see smoke at a distance, but no flames. Budd left the car
to look at the numbers on the doors nearby. “It’s on this side of
the street, by good luck,” he reported. “Drive a little farther
down, Chauncey. It must be near the corner.”
Chauncey backed his car from between a truck and an old grocery
wagon, though Kathryn suggested that he just park the car where he
was. “Nup,” said Chauncey. “I want the car right by where you climb
to the top of one of these places, maybe. What in the world did Miss
Hogarth choose a place like this for?”
“Maybe she didn’t choose. Perhaps somebody that needs things to eat
lives here,” replied Kathryn.
“I’d say you’re right,” returned Chauncey. “But I smell cabbage.
Somebody has that much anyway.”
Chauncey remained in the car, after helping Budd lift out the larger
of the baskets. Lilian jumped out, though saying in a low tone to
Betty that she “certainly hated to go up that stairway.”
“Well,” replied Betty, “it would probably be better if there weren’t
too many. You stay with Chauncey and Kathryn, Lilian. I’ll go with
Budd.”
“Me, too,” said Kathryn, hopping out of the car. “I see a policeman,
Chauncey. We’re all right. He’s coming this way.”
While the policeman really approached and stopped a moment to chat
with Chauncey, probably with an idea of protecting the good-looking
car and its occupants as well as with possible curiosity, Budd led
the way upstairs to the door on the third floor to which their
instructions directed them. He set down the basket and knocked.
A dingy little girl answered the knock. “How-do-you-do,” said Budd.
“Is this the place where Mrs. Harry Woods lives?”
“Yes, sir,” politely said the little girl, eying the basket.
“Ina,” said a voice, “ask them in.” A tired-looking but
pleasant-faced woman came from some room beyond, laid a baby upon a
large double bed that stood in one corner, and came toward the door.
She made a gesture toward a pail of suds that stood near the stove.
A tub balanced upon an upturned chair; and a mop was in the pail.
“I’m sorry that we aren’t cleaned up, and so late in the afternoon;
but the baby was cross. His teeth bother him.”
Budd looked at Betty and stepped back behind her, uncertain whether
the plan included entering the place or not. Betty, smiling, said,
“Oh, that’s quite all right. There is always so much cleaning to do
with a family. Miss Hogarth told us where you lived, but we’ll not
come in; we just brought you a little present, a reminder of
Thanksgiving, you know.”
Tears came into the eyes of the woman. “Miss Hogarth—may God bless
her! She was here once.”
Budd was lifting the basket, preparatory to setting it within the
room, when a clatter of heels on the stairway behind him indicated
some new arrivals. Three children of various ages ran up behind the
visitors and as they moved to give them the opportunity, ran into
the room. “These are my other children,” said Mrs. Woods, rather
proudly. “As soon as _he_ gets work we’ll be all right again, but I
surely thank you for helping out our Thanksgiving.”
She started to take the basket from Budd, who remarked that it was
pretty heavy for her and he would set it inside. Mrs. Woods
indicated the floor under a table which was full of various
articles.
The four children, in different attitudes, watched proceedings,
though their mother had suggested that they go “into the bedroom and
wash up.”
Ina, the oldest one, a serious little thing, as well the oldest
might be in this family, started to say something, hesitated and
then remarked, “Sevilla’s haven’t had anything to eat for two days,
Ma. Could we give them a bit out of that?” Ina pointed to the
basket, and Mrs. Woods turned toward her with surprise.
“How do you know that, Ina?” she asked.
“Oh, Rosie sat down on the stairs this morning and when I asked her
what was the matter she said she guessed she felt weak. I said was
she sick and she said yes, sick about having to pay out all she had
in the rent and there wasn’t any left for food. She was hurryin’ to
finish some sewin’ she was doin’ for somebody, she said. I just
plain asked her when she’d had her last meal and she said night
before last.”
“Oh—how dreadful!” cried Betty. “Who are the Sevillas and where do
they live? We have an extra basket downstairs and I was going to ask
you, Mrs. Woods, if you knew anybody that needed it.” Where had
Betty heard that name? “Sevilla” sounded familiar.
Mrs. Woods shook her head. “I know _dozens_ that need it. Why, the
Sevillas live just below us on the second floor. There’s only two of
them, Rosie and the old lady. They’re foreigners and the old lady
can’t speak English. I think they were used to having money in the
old country. Rosie’s got the wreck of a fur coat and the old lady
fixes up sometimes. If you’ve another basket—but you’ll have to be
careful how you give it. They’re awful proud. I would be myself if
it wasn’t for the children. But I can’t see them go hungry, or even
miss their Thanksgiving and Christmas good times if they are offered
to them.”
“How would it do if you went with us, Mrs. Woods, and fixed it up
about its being a present—and it is! We had a good time fixing up
the baskets and we like to share our Thanksgiving, you know.”
Betty’s voice was very earnest and sweet as she said this. Mrs.
Woods answered her smile. “Bless you,” she said, “I’ll do it. Watch
the baby, Ina, and keep the other children in here while I go down
to Rosie’s.”
Throwing her apron over her head, Mrs. Woods led Budd, Betty and
Kathryn down the rickety, dingy stairway to the second floor, where
she knocked on a door once shining in its dark wood. But it had been
painted and the paint had come off in peeling blotches. Budd ran
down the one flight to get the other basket from the car. They
waited and Mrs. Woods knocked again. Then there was a stir inside
and slow steps approached the door. “Rosie’s out,” whispered Mrs.
Woods, “and it’s a good thing. You just stand back a little and I’ll
take in the basket.”
The door opened. A tall old woman with lined face stood there,
looking soberly at the party. “How-de-do, Mrs. Sevilla,” said Mrs.
Woods. “Here’s a basket that I’ll tell Rosie about when she comes
in. It’s a present for you for Thanksgiving. I’ll just carry it in
for you.”
The dark eyes looked puled and Mrs. Sevilla was probably going to
make some protest, but Mrs. Woods calmly set the basket inside of
the door, whose handle she took to close it. “How are you today,
Mrs. Sevilla?” she asked.
The reply was made in a foreign tongue, but the question was
evidently understood. With a puled look the apparently aged woman
regarded the basket; and Mrs. Woods, backing out, gently closed the
door. “Rosie will come home and find it and then she’ll come to see
me, and it will be too late to give it back; see?”
Betty tried to thank Mrs. Woods, and wishing her a pleasant
Thanksgiving, the trio hurried away. Betty knew now where she had
seen the name Sevilla. But it might not mean anything. There were
probably others of that name among the foreigners of the city. But
the dark tragic eyes of the old lady haunted her.
Lilian wanted to know what had happened and listened to Kathryn’s
full report, with vivid descriptions. “That certainly was the most
mysterious old lady I’ve ever seen,” said Kathryn.
“I’ll say the most tragic,” said Betty.
In her turn Lilian had much to say about what the policeman had told
Chauncey. “The street where we were,” said Lilian as they swiftly
left the district, “is pretty good, the policeman said, with people
mostly quiet except all the children; but only one street over and
it is awful—I don’t know how many terrible things have happened
there this year. He told us not to come that way after night and
that the daytime was none too safe.”
“Oh, he was seeing how much he could scare you,” laughed Chauncey,
but he and Budd exchanged looks.