THE SEVEN MCGEES
The last week at Danbury Hospital rolled by almost too quickly to suit
even Peace, busy saying good-bye to the hosts of friends which that
great roof sheltered; for now that the time had come for her to go, she
found herself strangely loath to leave the little white room where she
had spent so many months.
"I knew, of course, that I loved all the doctors and nurses," she
explained in apologetic, troubled tones to the sympathizing sister,
Gail, "but I never s'posed I'd _hate_ to go home so bad when it came
time. I--I really _want_ to go home, too, but somehow--I'm going to miss
the hospital dreadfully, Gail."
"Certainly you will, dear," the older girl answered with an
understanding heart. "You have been here such a long time and had such a
delightful experience for the most part,--"
"And made so many really, truly friends," Peace chimed in eagerly.
"Yes, and made so many friends, that it is no wonder you rather hate to
leave it all, even if you are going home. But you wouldn't want to stay
here always--"
"O, mercy, no!" Peace shivered. "There are too many sick folks here.
They ache and yell and cry, because they can't help themselves. Now I
didn't hurt real much this time, though it's taken a long time to finish
the job, but I could have 'most anything to eat and could get around in
my wheel-chair or with my crutches for weeks and weeks; while most folks
are so awfully sick that they have to live on _mottled_ milk and beef
juice, and they get so skinny and white and weak that they don't know
what to do with themselves. That must be dreadful hard and I'll really
be glad to get away where I can't see so many sick people. Yes, it is
awfully nice to have such a lovely home to go to, and it'll be so much
fun to get around again, even if 'tis on crutches. There are lots of
games I can play no matter if I can't run, and Allee and me are going to
plan out lots more while we are visiting Mrs. Wood. I 'xpect maybe she
will be able to help us some, too, 'cause Billy Bolee won't ever be able
to run about like other boys, and he'll want to know some nice,
int'resting games that can be played sitting still."
"Yes, I think that will be a good scheme," Gail agreed, wondering why
Peace never seemed to suspect the secret of those awkward crutches. "But
now you better rest awhile, for Dick--er Dr. Shumway will soon be here
with his auto ready to take us out to his sister's house, and you want
to be bright and fresh for dinner tonight."
So with much laughter and many regrets, the hospital staff and all the
patients watched Peace depart from its portals,--laughter, because she
was to be strong and well once more; regrets because of the void she
left behind her. And Peace, surprised that they cared so much, went her
way almost content. It was such a joy to be out-of-doors again; so
wonderful to get close to the heart of nature once more; and she
improved every moment of the week that followed in getting acquainted
with every being, beast and bird on the place, from grave-eyed Mr. Wood
who was at home only in the evenings, down to Twitter, the
yellow-coated, golden-throated canary, which sang all day in his cage.
She romped with Billy Bolee, made pies with Kate, the cook, played
checkers with their kindly host, and tried to master the art of
embroidery under Mrs. Wood's instruction; but her favorite occupation
was stumping about the grassy yard with her crutches, and it surprised
and delighted her to find how little they really hampered her. When she
tired of her explorations, there was a great elm by the fence where she
loved to rest, and it was here that she sat playing with Billy Bolee one
hot afternoon when she was startled to hear a strange voice demand, "Are
you truly lame?"
Glancing up in surprise, she beheld a fat, dirty face, crowned by a
shock of tumbled red hair, pressed against the lattice-work, while a
pair of alert, gray eyes peered at her through the narrow opening. So
unexpected was the query,--for Peace had not been aware of another's
presence,--that she could think of nothing to say, and merely grunted,
"Huh?"
The stranger outside the gate obediently repeated, "Are you truly lame?"
"Yes. Why?"
"'Cause Ma says she guesses this must be a lame house," piped up another
voice close by, and Peace discovered a second dirty-faced, red-headed
youngster peering between the slats.
"A lame _house_?" echoed Peace in bewilderment. "How can a _house_ be
lame?"
"Aw, Antonio don't mean the house, nor neither does Ma. They just mean
that every one what lives in it is lame."
"I don't see how you make that out," Peace began, still puzzled.
"Well, you're lame, ain't you?"
"Yes."
"And that little baby is lame."
"Y--e--s."
"And the doctor man is lame--"
"But not for keeps," Peace eagerly interrupted. "He just broke his leg
and some day it will be all well again, and he won't even limp or need a
cane."
"Oh!" The first speaker seemed relieved.
"And will the baby some day walk all right?" asked the second tousled
figure.
"No--o, I don't s'pose his short leg will ever catch up with the other
one now," Peace reluctantly admitted. "But he's not very lame anyway. He
don't limp _much_."
"Neither do you," persisted the boy called Antonio, "but you use
crutches. You're worser off than the rest of the bunch."
"But I don't live here," she flashed triumphantly, bound to uphold the
honor of that household at any cost. "I'm just visiting for this week."
"Oh!" This time the exclamation expressed such regret that Peace asked
solicitously, "What's the matter? Did you like to think of a whole bunch
of lame folks living in one house?"
"No," the older boy declared, "but we was in hopes you lived here, for
then we could come over sometimes and play with you maybe."
Peace surveyed her two uninvited guests dubiously and then glanced at
her own spotless frock and at Billy's spandy new rompers. "Who--who--are
you?" she finally stammered, unable to keep her pert little nose from
showing some of the disgust she felt.
"My name is Tobias McGee," he answered pompously, as if proud of the
fact. "I'm ten years old. Tony--he's one of the twins--he's eight."
"I am Antonio," the second boy interrupted, bristling belligerently.
"How many times has Ma told you to quit calling me Tony?"
"She's told you to leave off calling me Toby, too," retorted Tobias
scathingly, "but you hain't did it. Gus is the other twin--"
"Augustus," corrected the offended Antonio.
"See here," blustered Tobias threateningly, "are you telling this, or
me?"
Peace, watching with fascinated eyes the pending scrap, became suddenly
aware that her guests had increased in number, and, glancing over her
shoulder, she found five other dirty, ragged, red-headed, unattractive
looking children lined up outside the fence, peeping at her through the
slats. "Are--are there any more of you?" she demanded, taking a rapid
inventory of the new arrivals.
The largest of the visitors, a girl of perhaps twelve years, swept her
eyes down the line and answered briefly, "Nope."
"Well, how'd you get here, Feely?" asked Tobias, forgetting his battle
with the twin in his surprise at his sister's presence. "'Twas your turn
to go with the milk today."
"The Carters and Moodys quit taking," she answered indifferently. "There
was only the Bowmans to d'liver."
"The Carters and Moodys quit?" echoed Tobias and Antonio in dismay.
"That's what I said," she answered sharply.
"But what for?"
"I dunno." She gathered up the smallest of her kin, a fretful, whining
child of about two years, and set it upon the fence-rail so its dirty,
bare legs dangled on the inside of the enclosure.
"Does Ma know?"
"She ain't to home yet."
"Y' know she said it would mean another washing if any more of the milk
customers quit us."
The oldest girl nodded her head dully.
"Who do you s'pose she will get?" persisted Tobias.
"How d' you s'pose I know?" snapped the girl.
"P'r'aps Mrs. Wood might let her do her clothes again," suggested
Antonio, in wheedling tones.
"Mrs. Wood?" asked Peace, rousing suddenly to speech. "My Mrs. Wood?"
Seven dirty, frowsy heads nodded solemnly.
"Is your mother her washwoman?"
"She used to be," the whole line chorused.
"Why ain't she now?"
"'Cause Mrs. Wood quit her."
"But what for?"
There was an embarrassing pause while the tribe of McGee glanced
inquiringly from one to the other. At last Antonio timidly ventured the
explanation, "She said Ma's tubs got iron rust all over her clo'es."
"Ain't that reason enough for Mrs. Wood to quit?" demanded Peace,
cocking her head judiciously.
"Ma was awful careful," the girl called Feely defended.
"But her tubs are awful old," half whispered a smaller girl, who up to
this moment had stood silently sucking her thumb.
"Shut up, Vinie, she ain't talking to you," commanded Tobias, raising a
threatening hand.
Vinie stuffed her thumb hastily into her mouth again and shrank back
against the fence, the picture of fear; but Peace forestalled the blow
by crying, "Let her be, Tobias McGee. She can talk if she wants to."
The boy flushed angrily and muttered, "She's always butting in. She's a
reg'lar tattle-tale."
"Well, you're a reg'lar coward," Peace sputtered. "She's lots littler
than you."
"I wouldn't have hit her."
"You would, too," Vinie removed her thumb long enough to say.
"If you're going to fight, you can go straight home," Peace interposed.
"Mrs. Wood wants Billy to grow up a gentleman."
"We ain't fighting," they chorused indignantly.
"You looked like it all right. You're always jawing each other, and I
don't like scrappers."
"We won't jaw any more," they meekly promised, "if you will let us come
over and play."
"I--I'll have to ask Mrs. Wood," she stammered, for, while the newcomers
interested her, their slovenly appearance made her recoil from any
closer contact.
"Then we can't come," wailed Antonio despairingly.
"Why not?"
"'Cause Mrs. Wood don't like us."
"How do you know?"
"She won't let us play with Billy."
"P'r'aps you are too rough."
"We wouldn't hurt him the least speck."
"Maybe it's 'cause you are so dirty."
A chorus of indignant denial arose, but at that moment Mrs. Wood herself
appeared at an open window and called for Billy Bolee. Immediately the
McGees scattered like startled pheasants, and Peace wonderingly turned
her steps toward the house, surprising her hostess as she entered the
cool room by the blunt question, "Don't you like the McGee family?"
"Why--er--I can get along nicely without their company," Mrs. Wood
answered evasively.
"But what's the matter with them?" Peace insisted.
"Nothing, I guess, except they are never clean," laughed the woman, and
Gail looked up from a letter she was writing long enough to ask, "Who
are the McGees, Peace? Your latest acquaintances?"
"Mrs. McGee is a widow who takes in washing," explained their hostess,
without giving Peace a chance to make reply. "She and her seven children
live in that three-room shack across the field. When her husband died
she took plain sewing to do for a time, but couldn't earn enough at it
to keep her family from want, so she turned to the washtubs. She does
her work well or did at first, but of late she has attempted more than
she can handle satisfactorily, and has grown so careless that several of
us have had to take our washings elsewhere."
"'Twasn't careless," Peace interrupted earnestly. "It's her tubs. They
are so old and rusty now."
"Then she should get new ones if she expects people to hire her. I can't
afford to send my clothes to the wash and have them come back all
spotted up with iron-rust. It is almost impossible to get it out."
"I guess maybe she hasn't money enough to buy more tubs," Peace
hazarded. "All her milk customers are quitting her."
"I can't say that I blame them," Keturah Wood shrugged her shapely
shoulders.
"Did _you_ quit her?"
"No, I never took milk from there."
"Ain't it good milk?"
"It ought to be. Their cow is a Holstein and gives lots of milk. But
someway I can't stomach the children."
"Can't stomach the children?" echoed Peace wonderingly.
"They are so dirty," Mrs. Wood explained in apologetic tones. "Mrs. McGee
used to keep them as neat as pins when I first came here to live, and
her kitchen was simply spotless. But she has too much to attend to now,
and the children run wild."
"Would you get your milk there if they were clean?"
"Possibly. My milkman isn't real dependable. Sometimes there will be
three or four days in a month when I can't get all I need, and if I ever
want any extra, I always have to tell him two or three days before. The
McGees seem to be able to supply a body at any time with any amount. But
no one enjoys having such inexcusably dirty children bring their milk
even if they _know_ the milk itself is absolutely clean. Somehow it
takes away one's appetite."
"Why don't that big girl keep the others clean? She's old enough, ain't
she?"
"She's too lazy. They all are. They fight all day sometimes over whose
turn it is to carry the milk or bring in the wood. Mrs. McGee never has
trained them to help her a bit, and though Ophelia is past twelve years
old, she is as useless as the baby when it comes to doing the
housework."
"Ophelia--ain't that a funny name!"
"Ridiculous!" laughed Mrs. Wood. "But so are all the rest. Having no
fortune to endow his children with, old Pat McGee gave his offspring as
'high-toned and iligent names as iver belonged to rich folks.' They are
Ophelia and Tobias, Antonio and Augustus, Lavinia and Humphrey, and the
poor little babe Nadene. Commonly they are known as Feely, Toby, Tony,
Gus, Vinie, Humpy and Deanie. Their real names are just for dress-up
occasions."
"It takes me back to Parker days," said Gail reminiscently. "Only the
McGees are worse off than the Greenfields were, for there are seven of
them and all so small. What would happen if the mother should slip away
as our mother did?"
"O, the orphan asylum would open its doors, of course. But even at that
they might stand a better chance than they do now. They never will
amount to anything, growing up as they are, like weeds. She can't give
them the attention they ought to have, and she is not teaching them to
be independent or helpful in any way. Toby and the twins are almost
beyond her control now. Some of us neighbors have tried to get her to
send part of the tribe at least to a Children's Home. Such an
institution would certainly give them the training that she can't--"
"O, but think of having to eat oatmeal every morning without milk or
sugar," interrupted Peace in horrified accents, "and your bread and
potatoes without any butter, and never having any pie or cake, and meat
only once a week, and hardly any fruit, and--ugh! I'd starve!"
"Peace, oh, Peace," called Allee's voice from outside the window, "come
see what I've found." And the crippled sister, hastily adjusting her
crutches, went to discover what was wanted.
The next day while she was sitting alone under the great tree in the
back yard, she heard a stealthy rustling in the grass beyond the fence,
and glancing up from the book she had been trying to interest herself
in, she again saw the dirty face of Tobias McGee peering at her through
the lattice work. Then Antonio appeared, followed one by one by the rest
of the tousled McGees. She surveyed them critically from head to heels
and then scathingly remarked, "I sh'd think you would be ashamed to go
so dirty."
"We--we ain't none of us got such pretty clo'es as you," stammered
Tobias, much confused by this unlooked-for reception, and he thrust both
grimy hands behind his back as if that would hide all his filth.
"You don't have to have pretty clothes to have 'em clean," Peace
retorted.
"Ma ain't got time to keep us washed up," explained Tobias,
apologetically.
"Why don't you do it yourselves then?"
"But--we--can't," they gasped in chorus.
"I don't see why."
"We ain't big enough."
"You are, too. Feely's as old as Hope was when we were in Parker, and
Hope kept after us till we were glad to wash our faces and hands and
brush our hair. Of course she helped, but there were Cherry and Allee
and me all younger'n her. And we helped Gail, too. I churned the butter
once, and we helped houseclean and--and pick chickens, and run errands
and bring in the wood--"
"Huh, us boys do that," broke in Gus scornfully. "Girls ain't s'posed to
fetch wood and water."
"All our boys were girls," replied Peace loftily, "and some of us _had_
to bring in the wood or else how would it have got there?"
"Did you wash dishes?" asked Ophelia, with a slight display of
curiosity.
"Cherry washed and I wiped."
"How old was Cherry?" demanded Antonio.
"O, about ten, when we lived in Parker, I guess."
"Feely's twelve and she don't wash the dishes yet," tattled Vinie, and
was promptly rewarded with a smart slap from the older sister.
"Shame on you!" cried Peace indignantly. "You are the meanest family I
ever knew. Mrs. Wood said you are always fighting, and that's all you've
done every time you've been over here."
"I don't care, Vinie had no business to say that," muttered Ophelia,
scowling sullenly. "She can't never keep her mouth shut. I just _hate_
to wash dishes."
"So do I," Peace cheerfully agreed. "But I don't go around slapping
folks' faces 'cause of it. Besides, Gail had all she could 'tend to
without bothering about the dishes. We _had_ to do them or go hungry.
Who does them at your house?"
"Ma," volunteered Vinie once more, edging warily out of range of the big
sister's hand.
"After she's washed all day?" asked Peace in horrified accents.
Ophelia was scowling threateningly; Vinie drew a little further away and
nodded silently.
"Don't _any_ of you do _anything_ to help her?"
"I mind the kids," said Ophelia defiantly.
"I should think you would keep 'em scrubbed up a little cleaner, then,"
observed Peace critically. "They--you are all so dirty you--you--smell.
I don't wonder folks won't buy milk from you."
"Ma takes care of the milk herself and washes the buckets and covers 'em
all up careful before she gives 'em to us to tote," cried Tobias, much
insulted by Peace's frank words.
"I don't care," retorted that young lady with dignity. "Mrs. Wood
herself says she can't swallow you children, you are so dirty; and she
would take milk from you if you were clean, 'cause I asked her."
Silence reigned while each young McGee dug his bare toes into the soft
earth and chewed his finger or thumb. Then Tobias growled, "Mrs. Wood is
too p'tic'lar. Ma says so."
"I'll bet Mrs. Moody and Mrs. Carter are just as p'tic'lar," Peace
declared hotly. "If you'd ask them why they quit taking milk of you, and
just _made_ 'em tell you the truth, I'll bet they would say that you
kids were always so dirty it made 'em sick to look at you."
Vinie withdrew her thumb from her mouth, stopped shuffling her dirty
little feet in the grass, stared thoughtfully at the candid young
hostess on the other side of the fence, and quietly disappeared,
followed by solemn-eyed Humphrey. No one noticed her going, no one
missed her from her place in the rank, but while belligerent Tobias was
still arguing the question with stubborn Peace, Vinie returned with
Humpy still at her heels. She had hurried, and her breath came quick and
fast, but before she had reached her place in the line-up again, she
called excitedly, "That pretty girl is right. We're all too dirty to
suit Mrs. Moody and Mrs. Carter."
"Wh--at?" shrieked the brothers and sisters, wheeling about in
consternation to face their new accuser,--one of their own kin.
"Well, I asked 'em honest true, just like she said to do, and after a
bit they owned up that it wasn't the milk they didn't like, but the
looks of us was too much."
Ophelia stared dully at the small sister for a long moment, then
suddenly slumped down in the tall grass and wept. Tobias, Antonio and
Augustus all followed suit, and even baby Nadene lifted her voice in
lament, though she did not know what she was crying about.
Surprised, awed and troubled, Peace drew near to the fence and pressed
her face against the lattice work to watch this unusual performance; but
Vinie, after one contemptuous glance at the snivelling group, turned
energetically away toward the little green shack across the field, still
holding fast to Humpy's grimy fist.
"Where you going?" demanded Antonio, peeping at her from under his arm
as he lay sprawled in the clover.
"I ain't got time to bawl," she flung back over her shoulder. "I
promised to go home and clean up Humpy and me. Then Mrs. Carter's going
to give me two cents to go to the store for her."
Peace watched the two little figures trudging off across the meadow, and
then she said thoughtfully, "She's right, and I b'lieve you could get
back all your milk customers if you'd everyone clean up once and _stay_
clean. Why don't you try?"
Antonio lifted his head, looked at his twin and began slowly to struggle
to his feet. Augustus joined him, then Tobias, and finally Ophelia. She
looked timidly toward Peace, and asked meekly, "Don't you s'pose Ma
would scold?"
"What for? Washing your faces? No, I don't. She's a funny mother if she
does. It's easier work to sell milk than to do washings, and I should
think you'd try to help her all you can so she won't get sick and die
and all of you have to go to an _orphant_ asylum."
The round-eyed children gazed at her in affright, then swiftly made off
through the tall grass in Vinie's wake.
They did not return that day or the next; and Peace had concluded that
they were angry with her; but the third morning bright and early they
appeared at the gate, unlatched it, and marched in solemn file up the
path to the house. Mrs. Wood herself, with Peace close behind, answered
their timid knock, and Ophelia, clad in a clean, neatly patched gingham
dress, with her hair hanging in two smooth plaits down her back,
faltered, "Ma wants to know would you like to get milk of us? The little
heifer has just come in fresh and we've got plently to sell."
"Ma'd 'a' come herself," piped up Vinie from the rear, "but she's sick
today."
"It's just a headache," hastily explained Tobias, beginning to scowl at
the family chatterbox, and then heroically smiling instead.
"She's lost another customer," confided Vinie, "a wash customer, 'cause
her tubs are so rusty, and it made her cry."
"But we're going to get her some new tubs," interrupted Antonio
excitedly, "and then we can come for your clo'es if you want us to."
"We've got seventy cents in our banks," said Augustus shyly.
"And if you need any wood chopped or piled, or carpets beat up, or
errands run, we'll be glad to do it for you--cheap," recited Tobias, in
a curious singsong voice, as if he had learned the words by rote.
"But what about the milk?" reminded Vinie, when the sudden pause which
followed had grown too oppressive.
"O!" Mrs. Wood roused to a realization that seven eager bodies were
listening for her answer. What should she say? Once more her eyes
travelled the length of the line. What a transformation had taken place!
Each face was polished till it fairly glistened in the sun, each pair of
bare, brown legs was clean and spotless, each fiery red head had been
brushed till not a hair was out of place, and each small figure was clad
in stiffly starched garments which looked as if they had just come from
the ironing board.
As if reading the unspoken question which burned on Mrs. Wood's lips,
Tobias informed her, "We've cleaned up for keeps."
"Ma's going to give us each a penny every week that we stay clean so's
not to need more'n one waist or dress in that time," eagerly explained
Antonio.
"'Cause, you see," tattled Vinie, "we ain't none of us got more'n two,
and we've got to stay clean so folks will buy our milk."
"That girl," lisped Humpy, pointing a stubby forefinger at Peace in the
doorway, "thaid we wuth too dirty."
"Oh!" Mrs. Wood was enlightened, and her memory flew back to a certain
day a few weeks before when Peace had told her some unpleasant truths
which had nevertheless changed the course of events in her life. She had
called the child "rude" at that time, but perhaps it was not rudeness
after all. It was certainly effective anyway, and she smiled amusedly at
the neat line of McGees.
Encouraged by the smile, Vinie said coaxingly, "She said you'd take milk
of us if we wuz clean all the time."
"And you will, won't you?" asked Peace, finding her tongue for the first
time since the queer little procession had marched up to the door.
Recalling the usual appearance of the young McGees, Mrs. Wood could not
help shivering, but she must be game. It shamed her to think that
already this brown-eyed child on crutches had more of the true
missionary spirit within her than she, a woman grown, had ever
possessed; so she forced a smile to her lips and a sound of heartiness
to her voice, as she answered, "Yes, I will take a quart every morning."
"And about the wash," Vinie reminded her, when the elated brothers and
sisters were about to retreat.
"Come for it Mondays as usual," answered Mrs. Wood meekly, wondering
all the while what had taken possession of her that she should give in
so easily.
"Thank you." Vinie bowed profoundly, and to the amazement of the woman
on the steps, the whole line of McGees stopped abruptly, touched their
hands to their heads in a truly military style, and thundered as one
man, "Thank you!"
Mrs. Wood beat a hasty retreat with her hand over her mouth, but Peace
stood thoughtfully leaning on her crutches in the doorway as she watched
their morning callers scatter through the wet grass when the gate had
clicked behind the last one of them.
So absorbed was she that Gail, who had been a silent spectator from
behind a curtained window, gently asked, "What is the matter, girlie? Is
anything troubling you?"
"No--o," she slowly answered. "I was only wishing that the McGees lived
in Martindale, so's our Gleaners could make 'em some clothes, like we
did for Fern and Rivers Dillon. Think of having only two dresses apiece!
Mercy! I don't see how folks can expect 'em to keep clean."
"Why, our Ladies' Aid does work of that kind," gasped Mrs. Wood, her
laughter forgotten. "Why didn't I think of that before? We have lots of
good material on hand now to make over, and I know the ladies will be
glad to do it for Mrs. McGee. I will call up Mrs. Jules right away. She
is our President, and the society meets next week Thursday."
"O, dear," sighed Peace. "We go home in two days more. I wish I could
stay and help. But then I'm glad the kids are going to have some decent
clothes anyway."