MRS. SNOOKS' EDUCATION
For the next few days Ruth continued to be the centre of the life of the
cottage. All the fun was planned with due regard to her lack of
strength. At almost every meal some little extra delicacy appeared
beside her plate. Whatever impatience Graham and Jack may have felt over
the further postponement of their tramp, they concealed the feeling with
remarkable tact. There was little danger however, that the unusual
attentions showered on Ruth would turn her head, as she had a
counter-irritant in the shape of a firm conviction that she did not
deserve any of this spontaneous kindness.
It was a day or two after her unsuccessful attempt to enact the role of
heroine that Graham arrived at the cottage at an early hour and in a
noticeable state of indignation. In spite of Ruth's protests that she
was quite well enough to assist in the work of the morning, the girls
had unanimously scoffed at the suggestion, and had forcibly seated her
in one of the porch rockers and thrust a late magazine in her hands. But
by the time Graham arrived, the magazine had slipped to the floor and
Ruth sitting with folded hands, was able to give her brother her
undivided attention.
"It's the most extraordinary thing," Graham sat down on the steps at
Ruth's feet, and fanned his flushed face with his hat. "Have you missed
anything that belongs to you, lately?"
"Why, no! Have you found anything?"
"That's what I'm going to tell you. To start at the beginning, the first
night Jack and I slept at Mrs. Snooks', we weren't warm enough. There
weren't many covers on the bed, and in this hilly country the nights are
cool, even when the days are pretty warm. So, in the morning, I spoke to
Mrs. Snooks, and said we'd like some extra bedding, and she promised to
attend to it."
Ruth's face had crinkled suddenly into a smile of comprehension, which
Graham was too absorbed to notice.
"Well, that night a steamer rug appeared on the bed. It wasn't exactly a
success. You know a steamer rug's too narrow to cover two people
properly. If it was over Jack, I was left out in the cold, and _vice
versa_. We had to take turns shivering. After one of us got to the
point where his teeth chattered, he'd snatch the rug off the other
fellow and warm up. But it wasn't till this morning that I took any
particular notice of that rug. And Ruth, it belongs to us!"
Graham looked at his sister with an air of expecting her to be greatly
surprised. Translating her smile into an expression of incredulity, he
began to prove his assertion.
"Yes, I know it sounds absurd, but I'm not mistaken, Ruth. I suppose two
rugs might be of the same pattern, but it's hardly likely they would
have the identical ink-spots. Don't you remember how I spilled the ink
on that rug when I was getting over the measles? And down in the corner
is part of a tag Uncle John had sewed on, when he borrowed it for his
trip abroad. The 'Wylie' is torn off but 'John G.' is left. And now the
question is--"
Ruth's laughter could no longer be restrained. "Oh, Graham, she borrowed
it."
"Borrowed it!" repeated the amazed Graham. "Well, I like that."
"She rushed down here the morning after you came and said she had an
extra bed to make, and would we lend her a little bedding. Of course we
didn't have any bedding to spare. We'd only brought enough for ourselves
and hardly that, for it's cooler here than we expected. But the steamer
rug was lying around and we thought we could let her take that."
"But she must have bedding of her own," insisted Graham. "What does she
do in the winter time?"
"That's the funny thing about Mrs. Snooks. She borrows dust-pans, and
flat-irons and all sorts of necessary things and you feel sure that she
hasn't been doing without them all her life. And the queerest part of
all is that she acts so aggrieved if we refuse. If we tell her that
we're out of sugar, she seems as indignant as if we kept a store, and it
was our business to have sugar for everybody."
Peggy came out on the porch at that moment, and listened with interest,
not unmixed with indignation, to Graham's account of his discovery.
"Sometimes I think the trouble with that woman is that she's formed an
appetite for borrowing, just like an appetite for drugs, you know."
Peggy laughed as she added, "Perhaps I ought not to say a great deal
just now, as long as I'm going borrowing myself. I've just discovered
that we haven't any ginger in the house, and I've set my heart on
gingerbread for dinner."
"Why don't you borrow it of Mrs. Snooks?" cried Ruth. "It's time we were
getting a little return for what we've lent her."
Peggy hesitated. "I don't know why I shouldn't," she acknowledged
frankly. "If it isn't very convenient for her to lend it, perhaps she'll
realize that her borrowing may inconvenience other people sometimes."
It was while Peggy was absent on this errand that the plot was formed.
Gradually the group on the piazza had increased till only Peggy and
Dorothy were missing. Not unnaturally the conversation concerned itself
with Mrs. Snooks' peculiarities, and the undeniable disadvantages of
having her for a neighbor. Graham's story of the steamer rug was matched
by equally harrowing tales of useful articles borrowed with the promise
of an immediate return, and missed when wanted most.
"Peggy imagines that she's going to teach Mrs. Snooks a lesson by
borrowing a little ginger of her," Ruth said with a shake of her head.
"It's my opinion it'll take a good deal more than that to teach Mrs.
Snooks anything."
A sudden mischievous light illumined Amy's eyes. "Let's give her a real
lesson," she cried. "Let's show her how it seems to have your neighbors
always borrowing things. Peggy's gone after a little ginger, you say?"
"Yes," nodded Ruth fascinated by the possibilities she saw unfolding in
Amy's plan.
"Well, when Peggy gets home, I'll go down and do some borrowing. And it
won't be anything like ginger, you understand. I'll pick out some real
useful article, that she'll miss every minute. That's the way she does.
And when I get back, Priscilla will take her turn."
Had Peggy been present it is doubtful whether the project would have
been received with such unanimous enthusiasm. Peggy's softness of heart
interfered sadly, at times, with her theories of discipline. But in her
absence the conspiracy against Mrs. Snooks' peace of mind was discussed
and elaborated without a dissenting voice. Even Aunt Abigail tacitly
approved, and Jack Rynson, who, it appeared, had been solicited to lend
a handkerchief and a black necktie, that Mr. Snooks might be properly
attired for attending a funeral in the village, gave the schemers the
benefit of several valuable suggestions.
Peggy made her appearance dimpling with amusement, and was greeted with
a shout of interrogation. "Did you get it?" cried half a dozen voices in
chorus.
"Yes, I got it, but you never saw anybody so surprised and unwilling.
She hinted and fussed, and dropped hints that she'd been thinking of
making gingerbread for supper herself. It really made me uncomfortable
to take it, but I felt it was time that she had a lesson."
"High time!" agreed Amy with a droll glance at her fellow-conspirators.
The unsuspecting Peggy looked about with mild surprise on the laughing
group. "Well, we're sure of our gingerbread, anyway," she said and
passed into the house. Amy was instantly on her feet.
"Oh, Amy," exclaimed Ruth, half admiringly, and half in remonstrance,
"do you really dare?"
"Dare? Why, I don't need any great amount of courage. I'm only Number
Two. It's Number Five or Number Six who'll have to be brave." Amy went
gaily down the path, and Peggy as she stirred the soda into the
molasses, wondered at the laughter on the front porch and reflected that
the crowd was in unusually jolly spirits.
About the time that the gingerbread was beginning to diffuse its savory
odors through the house, Amy returned. A glance at her triumphant face
furnished sufficient proof that her undertaking had been successful,
even without the silent testimony of a large object concealed by a
napkin, and carried with ostentatious care. "Oh, Amy, what have you
there?" cried Priscilla, finding some difficulty in making her voice
heard above the chorus of exclamations and laughter.
"An apple-pie." Amy's tone indicated immense satisfaction with herself.
"Amy, not really? You couldn't!" Ruth protested, choking with laughter.
"Seeing's believing, isn't it?" Amy whisked off the napkin, and revealed
the pie still steaming. When order was sufficiently restored, she told
her story.
"I hadn't exactly made up my mind what I'd ask for, but the minute I was
inside the kitchen, I saw the pie set in the window to cool and I
decided on that. Poor Mrs. Snooks couldn't believe her ears. She asked
me over twice, and then she said she'd never heard of anybody's
borrowing a pie. And I said that we happened to be out of pies, and were
going to have company to dinner. You and Jack will have to stay," she
added to Graham, who accepted with as profound a bow as if he had not
been counting confidently on the invitation.
"Did she act very cross?" questioned Priscilla, who was beginning to
wonder if Mrs. Snooks' education had not progressed sufficiently for
that day, without any further assistance.
"Oh, not particularly. She looked rather sad, and you couldn't call her
manner obliging, but it isn't likely that she'd say very much,
considering that she's borrowed something from us once a day on an
average, ever since we came."
"I wish you'd let me take my turn next," said Claire a little nervously.
"I don't want to wait till she gets to the exploding point, and then be
the one to be blown up."
"Oh, go ahead, I don't mind." As a matter of fact, Priscilla shared
Claire's qualms, but would not for the world have admitted as much. Ruth
watched Claire moving down the path, reluctance apparent in every step,
and declared that it didn't seem fair. "You girls are bearding the
lioness in her den and I'm having all the fun without doing a thing.
Aunt Abigail and I are the lucky ones."
"Bless you, child, I'm going to take my turn," said the old lady, with a
twinkle in her eye which indicated that her requisition on the
generosity of Mrs. Snooks would mark a distinct advance in the education
of that lady. "I'm going when Priscilla gets back."
But, as it happened, Aunt Abigail was not called on to redeem her boast.
Claire returned with a small package of salt, folded up in brown paper,
her courage having failed her when it came to the point of requesting
the loan of a more useful article. Priscilla, having joined in the
scoffing called out by this evidence of faint-heartedness, was on her
guard against a similar display of timidity.
Mrs. Snooks was ironing as Priscilla appeared in the doorway, and the
flush that stained her sallow cheeks was not altogether due to the
proximity of a glowing stove.
"Mrs. Snooks," Priscilla began, finding the ordeal rather more trying
than she had expected, "I've come to see if you'll lend us your
coffee-pot till to-morrow."
Mrs. Snooks tested her flat-iron with a damp forefinger, and then
resumed her work. Her answer was so long coming that Priscilla began to
wonder if she were not intending to reply.
"There's been a good deal of borrowing 'round in this neighborhood first
and last," Mrs. Snooks remarked at length, with impressive dignity. "And
lately I've been laying in a considerable stock of new things, including
a coffee-pot. I've made up my mind that I'll neither borrow nor lend.
While I don't like to seem unneighborly," concluded Mrs. Snooks, setting
down her flat-iron with a startling thud, "it's a matter of principle.
I've done the last lending or borrowing that I'm a-going to."
It was apparent that Amy's ruse had worked, and that Mrs. Snooks had
learned her lesson, but it needed the girls' united efforts to dissuade
Aunt Abigail from following up Priscilla's visit, by a call of her own.
Aunt Abigail argued that in order to make the effects of the lesson
permanent, it was necessary to "rub it in." From a hint she finally let
fall, the girls gathered that she was disappointed in not being able to
carry out a brilliant idea that had flashed into her mind while the plot
was developing.
"What was it you were going to borrow, Aunt Abigail?" Ruth asked, but
Aunt Abigail shook her head. "If I had succeeded in getting it from Mrs.
Snooks," she replied, "you should have known. Not otherwise." And as
Peggy who happened out on the porch at that moment, threw the weight of
her influence on the side of those who were protesting against any
further visits to Mrs. Snooks, it seemed probable that the curiosity of
the company would remain ungratified. Aunt Abigail was an old lady
abundantly able to keep her own counsel.
Peggy viewed the apple-pie with an air of disquiet. "Now, we'll have to
buy some apples, right away. We're out."
"Well, what of it?"
"Why, we must make a pie in the morning to return to Mrs. Snooks."
"Return!" cried Amy. "Why, Peggy, you're going to ruin everything. This
is 'spoiling the Egyptians.' What did Mrs. Snooks ever return that we
didn't send for?" As Peggy refused to alter her determination, a little
murmur of dissatisfaction arose.
"I think we're getting the worst of that bargain," Jack Rynson said with
feeling. "Swapping one of Miss Peggy's pies, for one of Mrs. Snooks'.
I've tried both, and I ought to know."
"Then we'll send it back just as it is," declared Amy with another happy
inspiration. "We'll change it to another plate, and she won't know
whether it is her pie or not. And, even if she suspects the truth, what
difference does it make?"
This brilliant idea was actually carried out, after some demurring on
the part of Peggy, who was afraid that Mrs. Snooks' feelings might be
hurt. Graham was delegated to return the pie and did so that evening,
with a suitable expression of thanks which Mrs. Snooks received without
returning the usual assurance that every one concerned was perfectly
welcome.
Graham turning to go up-stairs, halted by the door. "Oh, by the way,
Mrs. Snooks, if you could let me have--"
"I'm entirely out," replied Mrs. Snooks, without waiting for him to
finish.
Graham stared. Then he understood that Mrs. Snooks was suspecting him of
complicity in the plot, and his amusement came very near getting the
better of his politeness. In his effort not to laugh, his handsome young
face flushed a not unbecoming scarlet.
"It was only that I lost a button on the way home, Mrs. Snooks, and I
thought if you would--"
"I've lent my last spool of thread," said Mrs. Snooks, "and I haven't a
needle to my name. Henney dropped my thimble down the well last week,
and as for buttons, the only ones I own are on the children's clothes.
But if you want any of them things, Mr. Wylie, you'll find a right good
assortment at Dowd's. He keeps a good stock, if 'tis nothing but a
country store."
Graham thanked her and went to his room. He reflected that Mrs. Snooks
had not only learned her lesson, but had applied it, which is not always
the case with promising pupils.