ALENE'S VISITORS
"Alene, Mrs. Ramsey stopped in the office yesterday to lecture me on
the criminality of tissue-paper hats," said Uncle Fred at supper the
next evening. Although his voice was solemn, the twinkle in his eyes
told much to the observant Alene.
"Tissue-paper hats! Why, Uncle!"
"She was surprised, or I should say scandalized, when I remarked that I
had superintended the putting on of yours, and that I was sorry I was
too young, or not old enough, to go along with you."
"Oh, Uncle Fred, you are just the right age for--anything; but we
couldn't coax you to go that day!" Alene protested.
"And then I told her of my surprise when I reached the office that
morning to find my hat adorned with a red-white-and-blue rosette, which
horrified her so much that I was glad--I mean sorry, that she hadn't
met me wearing it."
"I wish she had, meddling thing!"
"She thinks I'm very lax in my duty to allow you on the street without
a _chaperone_. Alene, I'm a failure as a stern old guardian! I think,
to put myself right with the townspeople, I'll have to get arrested for
beating my incorrigible niece!"
"If they find fault with you, just send them to me and I'll--I'll
settle them," cried Alene, with angry vehemence, holding her fork in
such a threatening position that Kizzie, coming in with the tray, half
paused.
"Don't be alarmed, Kizzie. She's not going to attack you or me; she's
only indignant because everyone doesn't agree with her in holding me up
as a model guardian!"
"Oh, Mr. Fred, how you do go on!" returned Kizzie with a laugh and a
blush, giving Alene a glance that showed upon whose side she stood.
"But I haven't come to the end of my tale. It seems that Mrs. Ramsey's
real object in paying me a visit was not to lecture me, as I supposed,
but to say that her two daughters are coming to visit you to-morrow
afternoon."
"Oh, bother! Laura and Ivy promised to come and stay for tea!"
grumbled Alene.
"Well, the more the merrier. The Ramsey girls seem to be amiable
enough," returned Mr. Dawson who failed to see any reason for the
little girl's vexation. Indeed, Alene herself could not define what
was, in reality, the dismay any hostess might feel if called upon to
entertain a group of people which she knows to be utterly uncongenial.
"Don't worry, child! Just do the best you can," was the advice of the
housekeeper, when Alene, kneeling on a chair at the window next
morning, viewed the forbidding, rain-soaked grounds.
"But I depended on the garden to help me out," said she, giving a
reproachful glance at the soggy grass and dripping trees. "The girls
could swing and run about in the grass, and now we'll all have to stay
cooped together in the house! I wouldn't mind it a bit with Laura and
Ivy. We could do lots of things inside--but the Ramsey girls!"
"There's the tower room and the wide halls. Surely you can play some
games there! It does seem unfortunate how things turn out sometimes,
but we must just bear it!" said Mrs. Major.
"That's what makes it so much harder, we _must_ bear it! Ivy says if
we could take our burdens just because we wanted to for a noble cause,
like some of the martyrs did, it wouldn't be half so hard as when they
are put on one!" grumbled Alene. "But there, I'm not going to cry
about it!"
"I wouldn't, either," cried Kizzie, broom in hand, her face glowing
from an attack on the upstairs carpets. "It would only make things
damper!"
The smiling visage of the plump little maid seemed to have captured
some of the sunshine hidden away by the clouds; it radiated from her
blue eyes, her yellow hair, her round rosy cheeks; Alene, turning from
the depressing outside where the rain was steadily falling, felt an
answering glow when she met that sunny gaze, and retorted gaily:
"Does she mean to be profane or funny, or only puny!"
"I mean to tell you what I was thinkin' about! Wouldn't it be fun for
you and the girls to make taffy this afternoon?"
Alene clapped her hands.
"Oh, Kizzie, the very thing! And please, _please_ let me be chief
cook--I think it would be lovely to potter round the pans and things!"
"I could come in and show you how, only Mrs. Major let me off this
afternoon and my sister's expecting me--but I might send her word,"
said Kizzie.
"No, you mustn't do that. Just tell me how much to use and where to
find the stuff--but I don't want anyone to help me!"
So Alene listened solemnly, with a delightful sense of responsibility,
to the directions given by Kizzie and the housekeeper. It seemed so
easy, just so many cups of sugar, so much vinegar and water, a lump of
butter not too large and enough vanilla to make it taste; then the
greased pans and the flour to use in pulling it.
"Oh, I know it by heart! Don't say another word till I bring you some
upstairs to the sewing-room this afternoon! And I'll save some for
Kizzie when she comes."
As the girls intended coming at one o'clock to stay not later than
five, Alene felt secure in having provided something that would pass
the greater part of the time, so she paid no more attention to the
weather. It could not interfere with the taffy pulling.
She flew happily round making her preparations and it did not seem any
time until Prince gave a joyous bark to notify her of the near approach
of friends.
She ran to the door. Sure enough, it was Laura and Ivy making their
way through the rain; they were coming around the curve of the walk
which led from the front gate.
"And Laura's holding the umbrella over Ivy so that she herself gets
nothing but the drippings," Alene observed. She seized an umbrella
from the rack and hastened to meet them, while Prince ran on ahead to
assure them of a welcome.
The barking of the dog and the chatter of the girls made such a din
that it reached Mrs. Major, who came and stood in the hall, enjoying
the excitement.
After greeting the visitors she went upstairs, feeling a pleasant glow
in the consciousness that the little girl, whose loneliness had been a
source of anxiety to the older inmates of the house, was now
light-hearted and happy with companions of her own age.
"Girls, girls, I'm so glad you've come in spite of the rain!" cried the
beaming Alene, dancing round, more of a hindrance than an aid in her
endeavors to help them off with their things.
"Mother was against my going out in the rain, but Hugh knew how much I
wanted to come, and just as he was coaxing her, Laura came in, and they
hustled me off!"
"It's well I did, or the Bonners would have had a weeping Ivy on their
hands, and dear knows it's moist enough without that, so I carried her
away just for pity!" explained Laura, who stood before the rack mirror
surveying a few locks of straight hair which stuck to her forehead. "I
was just telling Ivy it's good there's no lightning; but the rain does
take the starch out of things. Just look at my poor hair, while Ivy's
curls are kinkier than ever!"
"Poor Lol, I'd gladly turn some of the kinks over to you if I could,"
cried Ivy with a laugh, as she gave her mop of curls a vigorous
smoothing, trying in vain to make them lie closer to her head. "But
talking of lightning, when I was quite small I remember one day in
school it stormed hard. The thunder rolled and the lightning flashed
and one of the girls got frightened and began to cry, which surprised
me very much; not because she cried, but because she was a doctor's
daughter--I don't know why I thought a doctor's daughter should be
braver than anyone else's child!"
"It's funny the thoughts we have and the queer things we believe when
we're small," returned Alene. "A girl told me one day if you put beads
in the oven more beads would grow. So I put in my string of pink coral
but it only got hot and didn't grow a bit bigger! I never believed in
that girl again!"
"I never told you of the spring that Ivy and I made when we were
little. We thought it would be so nice to have cold water handy, so we
dug a hole in the cellar, big enough to put a good-sized tin pan in,
and filled the pan with water. We put pebbles in the bottom and moss
around the rim and thought we had a perpetual well; but when we came
back to it the old pan was dry. The water had leaked through the
holes! We were awfully disappointed that no other water had run in!"
As Laura completed her contribution to ancient history, divested of
their rain-coats, hats and rubbers, they were ready to follow Alene
into the library.
"Ivy's brought a book along, 'Tales of the Angels.' Let's read turn
about," proposed Laura.
Sitting close together, Ivy half reclining among the cushions of the
little sofa and Alene upon a leather arm chair with Laura between them
on a hassock, all shut in by the crimson curtains of the cosy corner,
where the rain beat against the window panes and the vines stirred in
the wind emphasizing the comfort of their snug retreat, they spent a
happy time reading and talking over the beautiful little stories until
Prince's renewed barking attracted their attention.
"Somebody's coming," announced Ivy, peering through the blurred window
pane.
"I guess it's the Ramseys," said Alene, going out to meet them.
"I hoped the rain would keep them away," murmured Ivy with a grimace.
"So did I," answered Laura. "I felt like turning back when Alene said
they were coming, but I hated to hurt her feelings!"
They heard Alene greeting the new-comers, then footsteps and voices in
the hall, and presently the three girls came in together.
The sisters were in the midst of an argument. Vera had found a small
rent in her silk umbrella for which she declared Hermione's umbrella
responsible.
"But I was walking ahead of you all the way, not near enough for the
rib to touch your umbrella! It must have been done when you crowded up
against the fence to let Mrs. Park and her baby carriage go past."
"Well, I couldn't go in the muddy street, could I? I don't see why
they bring babies out on such a day as this, brushing others up against
damp walls! But it's just a little cut such as only an umbrella point
could give. It never touched the fence!" Vera's grumbling came to a
sudden pause--"Oh say, Alene, I didn't know you had company!"
"I had no chance to tell you on the way in."
"No, Vera gives no one a chance when she has a grievance to air!" said
Hermione. "Howdy'do, girls!"
She crossed the room and sat beside Ivy and Laura. Vera took an easy
chair near the table, somewhat apart from the group, and gave all her
attention to the careful removing of her kid gloves. The conversation
with her mother as to the manner in which to meet her poorer
schoolmates in society was fresh in her mind. Now was the opportunity
to act upon her convictions. She resolved to be very cool in her
treatment of Laura and Ivy.
The other girls chattered away, apparently unmindful of her
abstraction. Alene was showing them some sheet music which had come in
the mail a few days before.
"Here's the new Raindrop two-step. How appropriate for to-day," cried
Hermione. "Have you tried it yet?"
"Yes, it's real sweet! Would you like to come into the music room and
hear it?"
They all assented, and presently from the little room opening off the
library came the notes of a piano.
"I'd like to try the step," said Hermione, "if only there was someone
to dance with!"
"Where's Vera?"
"Sulking in the library, I guess. Come, Laura, won't you?"
Laura hesitated until Ivy joined in, "Do, Lol! She dances beautifully,
Hermione, only she--she won't sometimes," and as the two girls paired
off, "When I'm along she seems to think I'll mind it more because--"
"Yes, I know," returned Alene, slipping her hand from the keyboard to
give Ivy's brown fingers a sympathetic squeeze.
"But I won't let her; I don't want to be a _bete noire_ to my friends!"
said Ivy, leaning her head against the piano and letting her eyes stray
from Alene's nimble fingering to the graceful swaying of the girls in
the dance. Around the room they circled, out along the hall, and
presently back again through the library.