"Now, Johnny, leave your saw."
"Ah, mamma, can't I just finish this bracket?"
"No, dear. All your Saturday evening's work is to be done yet."
It was hard, Johnny thought. A half-hour more would finish the beautiful
deer bracket; the scroll-saw still had the charm of novelty, and the
delicate pattern was a most attractive one. Johnny worked away harder
than ever (a way he had of delaying obedience), and was beginning to
hope he might yet complete his work, when a bright-faced little colored
girl came in. She tied on an apron, and began beating eggs into a foam,
adding a new clatter to the din made by Johnny's saw.
"Stop. Johnny, _stop_, I say!" and Johnny began moving his darling
machine back into its corner with rather an ill grace. "Well, Phrony
Jane, have you had a pleasant time?"
"Yes, 'm, splendid. Miss Lawton she's a-gwine to do lots o' nice things
this summer--gwine to hev a lawn party next week out to her uncle's in
the country for we uns."
"Who's we uns?" asked Johnny, teasingly.
"Why, her class--all o' we uns."
"Can't _I_ go, then?"
"No," said Phrony Jane, a little disdainfully; "Miss Lawton don't
approve o' boys, I guess. Ain't got a single one in her class."
"Couldn't get one," retorted Johnny, going out.
"Come back, Johnny," called his mother, "and put away your patterns, and
pick up your chips." She sat down to look over some blackberries, while
Phrony Jane, finishing her egg-beating, and relieved from the
disadvantage the noise had placed her under, resumed her talk as she set
the table for tea.
"Must 'a ben mighty sca'ce times when der was famines 'round." She
looked admiringly at a loaf of bread she was cutting into slices. "Not a
mite o' bread 'n' butter, nor beefsteak, nor canned fruit, nor nothin'.
Miss Lawton she tole us all 'bout how 'Lijah he went to a po'r woman,
'n' says he, 'Gi' me jus' a little speck o' bread,' 'n' says she, 'Bless
yer heart, mas'r, I ain't got but jus' one handful o' co'n meal, 'n'
jus' as soon as me 'n' de little chap eats dat up we's gwine to die,
sho's you live!' But says he, 'Don't ye be skairt now, aunty; you go 'n'
make some co'n-cake fer you uns, 'n' some fer me, 'n' you see ef tings
don't hold out.' An' she did, 'n' every day dere was more co'n meal in
de bar'l. Now you know, missus, dat was de Lord!"
Mrs. Dent assented.
"How d'you s'pose He done it?"
Phrony Jane looked as if she would like to know very much indeed.
"We can't tell, Phrony Jane. The Lord has His own way of doing wonders."
"'Twould be an awful handy way o' gittin' tings down to our house, whe'
de bacon 'n' molasses is all out. But, missus"--Phrony Jane now came to
help with the berries, and it was plain there was something more weighty
on her mind than bacon and molasses--"d'you s'pose 'twould do to war a
gingham dress to a _lawn_ party?" Mrs. Dent laughed.
"Why, Phrony Jane, a lawn party has nothing to do with a lawn dress. It
means a party in the open air--on the lawn. People who have pretty
grounds often give lawn parties."
"You sho' o' dat, missus? I hearn dat Phylly Jackman tell how she's
gwine to w'ar her lawn dress--all ruffles 'n' a over-skirt."
"Well, if you are anxious about it, Phrony Jane, you know I told you I'd
give you my brown lawn. Do you think you can alter it in time if I help
you?"
"By nex' Friday? Course I can." Phrony Jane's face beamed as she thus
happily arrived at what she had been aiming for.
[Illustration]
All day long she was in such a state of delight that Mrs. Dent began to
fear that her little hand-maiden's wits were quite lost. Milk pails were
upset and dishes broken, and when the good lady saw Phrony Jane, in the
middle of the afternoon, sitting in the swing with the baby in her arms,
and singing
"Nobody knows de trubble I hab"
at the top of her voice, she actually began to tremble lest the little
thing might meet with some dreadful accident through her nurse's wild
excitement. Toward evening, when the day's labors were ended, Phrony
Jane announced confidentially to Johnny:
"I's jus' gwine to run up 'n' tell dat Phyl Jackman _she_ ain't de on'y
one's got a lawn dress!"
Early the next morning Phrony Jane received news which struck dismay to
her heart. Her mother, living two miles away, had broken her leg by a
fall, and wanted her. Mrs. Dent packed a basket of comforts which would
surely be needed in the shiftless family, and poor Phrony Jane departed
in grief, wishing the news had not reached her until after
Sunday-school, when she might have heard more about the lawn party.
Johnny had appeared that morning with a suspicious hobble. He had
slightly sprained his foot the day before, and had avoided speaking of
it through fear of being forbidden to saw brackets, and he had used it
so imprudently as now to be unable to hide it any longer. So with a good
supply of Sunday reading, a lunch handy in case of need, and many
injunctions on the proper keeping of the day, Johnny's papa and mamma
left him, each having a Sunday-school class to attend to.
Johnny meant well, but, as is the case with some other boys, needed a
little looking after in order to carry out his good intentions. When the
stories in the papers were exhausted, and a marvellous amount of
gingerbread and milk consumed, he found that Sunday-school-time was not
yet over. Church would not be over until after twelve. Coaxing a quarrel
between the dog and cat took up ten minutes more, resulting in the cat's
springing to the top of the scroll-saw, and scattering in every
direction the pieces of work piled there, covered with a towel.
Johnny jumped to pick them up, much concerned at seeing that a slender
point of a leaf was broken off one of his pieces of fine work. He
thought it might be remedied by being rounded off with the saw. His foot
was near the treadle, and the saw almost rose and fell of itself as he
shaved the broken place. Then the other side had to be curved to make
things even. Then he happened to be just where he was when he had been
obliged to quit work the evening before. His foot did not hurt much as
still that saw seemed to cut of its own accord into the graceful leaves.
On it went, just _going to stop_ every moment, Johnny inwardly assuring
himself he never would think of doing such a wicked thing as saw on
Sunday, but still following that enticing pattern until he at last
stopped in alarm at seeing there was only one leaf more to do. It could
not make things worse to finish that. It was done, and Johnny covered
the saw feeling more guilty than ever in his life before, and hoping
mamma would not look right into his eyes when she came home.
Phrony Jane came back on Tuesday evening, her wages being important
enough in her family to lead them to try to get along without her. She
inquired anxiously about the lawn party, but Mrs. Dent, who went to a
different Sunday-school, and had not seen Miss Lawton, knew nothing
further concerning it. Phrony Jane worked hard, every spare minute at
the lawn dress, sitting up late on Thursday night, too busy to run and
ask Phylly Jackman about the party. Still no word came from Miss
Lawton, and on Friday afternoon Phrony Jane stood astounded in the back
porch as two spring-wagons passed carrying Miss Lawton's class out for
their country frolic.
"I never 'd 'a thought she'd 'a used me so dretful cruel." Poor Phrony
Jane went to her room and cried.
* * * * *
"_You_ here, Phrony Jane?" asked Miss Lawton, in surprise, as she took
her place in class next Sunday.
"Yes, 'm. Didn't you spect me to come no more?" she asked, wondering
what could have come over her teacher.
"Why, certainly, always when you're in the neighborhood, but I heard you
had gone home."
"I did, 'm, but I come back a-Tuesday."
Miss Lawton called on Phylly Jackman next morning, and after some talk,
took her with her down to Mrs. Dent's. Johnny was still kept in by his
sprain, which, much to his mother's surprise, had been worse since she
had left him at home on Sunday to keep it quiet. Many a rueful glance
had he since cast at his saw, reflecting on the amount of enjoyment he
had lost for such a poor bit of fun, and wishing he had courage to tell
mamma.
"Now, Phyllis," said Miss Lawton, after courtesies were exchanged, "I
want you to tell Mrs. Dent exactly what you told the girls about Phrony
Jane."
"Well, 'm, I come here Sunday mornin' was a week, right after
Sunday-school, to see why Phrony Jane wasn't dar, 'n' when I come to de
door I hearn a noise, 'n' dar was dat sinful gal a-workin' away on de
sewin'-machine on de holy Sabba' day!" Phylly's head shook virtuously.
"Are you sure?" asked Mrs. Dent, in great surprise. "Did you come in?"
"No, 'm, I jus' went 'n' peeked in de winder--de w'ite curting was
pulled down, but I seen de shadder ob her woolly head on it."
"And what did you tell the girls?"
"I tole 'em dat wicked Phrony Jane was a-workin' at her lawn dress, she
felt so stuck up about, on de Sabba' day, 'n' Mis' Dent ought to send
her home, 'n' not keep no such trash about. She did, you see!" Phylly
was triumphant.
"That was the story which reached me," said Miss Lawton.
"It's a very strange one," said Mrs. Dent. "Phrony Jane left here early
on Sunday morning to go to her mother, who had met with an accident, and
Johnny was here all the time. Of course no one was at the
sewing-machine, Johnny?"
"No, ma'am," said Johnny, very positively.
Phylly was puzzled and crest-fallen, but stuck to her statement in a
stubborn fashion, which made both ladies feel out of patience with her.
Phrony Jane being called, was not informed of the dark accusation which
had been out against her, but was so cheered by her teacher's kindly
regrets for her disappointment, growing out of a misunderstanding, as to
spend no more regrets over the pleasure she had lost.
But Johnny, after this, became so woe-begone and peak-faced, was so
evidently drooping from his confinement to the house, that his mother
grew concerned. She cooked nice things for him, read to him, brought
boys to see him; but all to no effect. But when she staid at home from
Sunday-school with him, alone with her in the quiet of the Sabbath
morning, Johnny's reserve broke down, and in a great flood of
penitential remorse out came the burden on his conscience. Then
listening to his mother's words of sorrowful surprise, forgiveness, and
loving admonition, he formed earnest resolutions of never again
forgetting the sacredness of Sunday hours.
Then Mrs. Dent began to wonder over this queer unravelling of the
mystery of the sewing-machine story, laughing as she remembered the
"woolly head" that figured in it.
"No wonder Phylly was so sure poor Phrony Jane was running the machine
when she heard the roar of that saw of yours," she said, giving Johnny's
curly hair a pull.
"And you see," said Johnny, "the worst of it is, it was me that made
Phrony Jane miss going to the lawn party, and I'd like to make it up to
her somehow."
"Yes." They laid their heads together, and the outcome of it was that
Miss Lawton was spoken to, and she brought out her lively little colored
crowd one day, and Phrony Jane had a lawn party of her own--a _surprise_
lawn party, for which Johnny freely spent all his savings for candy, and
strode about with a lofty sense of having "made up" for his injury to
Phrony Jane in a most magnanimous manner.
"Why didn't you w'ar your style dress wid de ruffles 'n' over-skirt,
Phylly?" asked Phrony Jane of that young lady, observing that her attire
by no means exhibited the grandeur which might reasonably have been
expected.
Phylly had felt guilty over the result of her meddling and gossiping
about Phrony Jane. Moreover, Mrs. Dent had just explained to her the
mistake which Johnny's Sunday sawing had led her into making, and she
felt too proud at this recognition of herself as a truthful character to
feel inclined to tell any lies just now.
"Well, de fact ob it is, Phrony Jane," she whispered, confidentially, "I
ain't got no such a ting as a lawn dress--'n' it ain't got no ruffles,
nor yet no over-skirt."
[Illustration: THE FRESH-AIR FUND.]