VEXATIONS AND CONSOLATIONS
Ivy turned disconsolately from the window. She had waved good-by to
Laura and Alene when they had looked round at the corner ere passing
from view on their way to the glass-boat.
The trip had been postponed from day to day in the hope of her being
able to go along, and even at the last moment her friends had wished to
give it up and devote the afternoon to an indoor meeting of the
Happy-Go-Luckys; but Ivy would not have it so; she insisted on their
going, she vetoed every argument to the contrary, but now that they
were beyond recall and she faced the empty room she almost regretted
her persistence.
And yet it was a pleasant room enough, with nothing of luxury to
recommend it but having an air of quiet comfort. An unobtrusive wall
paper, a green-and-oak carpet, a bright rug before the fire-place,
which was filled with tall ferns; a picture of the "Mammoth Trees of
California," above the mantel, a lamp with a green globe hanging over
the center-table, a few chairs, and Ivy's couch drawn close to the two
windows with their snowy curtains--all beautifully neat and clean, but
alas, so tiresomely familiar to the little prisoner. Even the sight of
her books piled at the foot of the lounge wearied her!
She threw aside the beloved Sunset Book after vainly trying to get
interested in it. How flat and unprofitable it seemed! Why could she
never write anything but the trite and useless things that almost
anyone who was able to hold a pen could say as well or better? The
verses about the four o'clocks, which the other day had seemed a pretty
conceit, to-day sounded silly, fit only for the little waste-basket at
her side, where she threw them with disdain.
Life was unprofitable, friends noticeable only by their absence; even
the faithful Hugh had deserted her. He had made no motion toward
"making up" since the day they went blackberrying--it would have served
him right if the bull had put an end to her! If that boy Mark Griffin
hadn't interfered--and why he had she didn't know, what business was it
of his?--Hugh, instead of wearing his air of indifference, would be
crying his eyes out beside her dead body--or rather her grave, for she
would be buried and done with by this time. But no; here she herself,
instead of Hugh, was crying over it! For the last week he had been
even less attentive than ever; he was up and out long before she awoke
in the mornings, came home at noon to snatch a hasty lunch and was off
again after supper until bedtime, with only a careless nod to her, Ivy,
whom he had hitherto allowed to claim all his attention and the little
leisure time he could spare from his work as office-boy and assistant
clerk in a real-estate firm down street.
Heigho! Who was that coming? Claude and Nettie, hand in hand, with
beaming faces and crumby lips!
"Oh, you greedy youngsters, where do you put all the cake and things
you devour, anyway?"
Simultaneously two mouths were opened wide.
"They are big enough naturally, you needn't stretch them! No wonder
you are both noted dunces in your class--you are nothing but mouth and
stomach! Come here, I've a little time. Let's see what you can do!"
"I can figure!" said Nettie proudly, but she eyed the slate upon which
Ivy had written, half abashed.
"Three plus two equals what?" said Ivy.
"Six!"
"No, try again!"
"Six!" cried Nettie decidedly again.
"No; five, stupid!"
"Six," reiterated Nettie, "Teacher says so!"
"That's three multiplied by two; I said three _plus_--"
"Well, it's six at our school," declared Nettie doggedly, her eyes half
filled with tears.
"To think you are any relation to Laura! Why, she's as bright--"
"She's big, and awful old, and not half as nice as Nettie!" cried
Claude.
"Indeed, no wonder you stand up for her! You don't even know the
alphabet!"
"Yes, I do!"
"Well, see here!" Ivy picked up his primer.
"I don't want to study--it's vacation!" said Claude, drawing back.
"He may injure his brain by overstudy; such a precocious scholar!"
Nettie pursed out her lip. "Precious scolder herself!" she muttered.
"Come, Claude, I'll give you this big red apple if you say it
correctly," urged Ivy.
"A--B--C," commenced Claude bravely, "A--B--C--Poke Bonnet."
"No, that's D!"
"Well, it looks like a poke," returned Claude.
"How funny! It only needs a bow and string, see?" cried the little
girl.
Claude proceeded with the letters:
"L--M--N--the same old hoop--I ought to know its name."
"O," whispered Nettie.
He turned upon her indignantly--
"I was just going to say O--that's easy! P--Q--R--little wormy
thing--Oh, bother T--U--V--W--let's see, see-saw, X--wizie!" he
concluded triumphantly and with a sudden movement he snatched the apple
from Ivy's lap.
"Come back, you didn't earn it!" commanded Ivy.
"I did, didn't I, Nettie?" he cried, digging his uneven little teeth
into the rosy cheek of the apple.
"Come here at once!"
Ivy reached for her crutches but Nettie, too quick for her, grabbed one
and fled with Claude, while Ivy in a rage threw the other after them.
Across the floor it sailed and hit against the wall with a resounding
clap.
"That's the end of my teaching, and everything I do trying to help
others ends just that way! Now in the story-books the children are
good and no matter how dull, anxious to learn and thankful to be
taught, and the teacher gets some satisfaction out of it! I believe
the only respectable children are in books; the others are imps! Dear
me! I feel like knocking my head against the wall!" She threw herself
upon the sofa and pressed her face against its fir-scented cushions.
Presently soft footsteps were heard. A lady entered the room, and
glancing from the discarded crutch to the couch, crossed the floor and
placed her hand caressingly on the curly mop of hair.
"Are you asleep, Ivy?" she inquired gently.
"No, mamma, just thinking."
"Is there anything I can do? Here is a cool drink."
"No, thank you--yes, I guess I will, I am rather thirsty!" She sat up
and eagerly drank the lemonade.
"Were the children naughty? I thought they might amuse you for a
while--"
"They were simply diabolical--but just on a par with all the rest! The
girls gone to enjoy themselves--and that hateful Hugh running away
every day as though afraid I might encroach on his valuable time--and--"
"Hugh? Why, what has he done?"
"He's not been the same since that day we went blackberrying."
"'We have pleasant words for the stranger,
And smiles for the sometimes guest;
But for our own the bitter tone
Though we love our own the best,'"
quoted Mrs. Bonner. "I'm afraid that's your way with Hugh, sometimes,
Ivy, and as for the girls leaving you alone, you almost ran them out of
the house!"
"They might as least have called in on their way home!"
"Have they gone past?"
"I haven't seen them, but they were to be back about half past four and
see, it's nearly six--Ah, here they are now!"
The girls came bustling in.
"All the way from China!" cried Laura breathlessly.
Ivy listened to their adventures with glowing eyes.
"So the buccaneers took you captive for ransom and carried you across
the ocean; but a gallant ship, flying the American colors and commanded
by a brave knight, came to your relief, swept the pirate fleet from off
the sea and brought you away, leaving the waves red with gore!"
"And here we are with all our valuables intact, even to this little
vase of purest amethyst," said Alene, handing Ivy the blue glass
goblet, while Laura gave a package to Mrs. Bonner, saying impressively:
"And these tumblers of priceless glittering crystal are yours, dear
madame; here's your change--fifteen cents--they only cost a nickle
apiece."
This called forth a chorus of mirthful exclamations, in the midst of
which two little figures came quietly in. Emboldened by Ivy's smiling
countenance, they stole to her side and displayed a collection of
bright pebbles which they had picked up from the flat, tar-coated roof
of the foundry, which, being built against a hill, was easily reached
from the upper street.
"We gathered them for you," said Nettie shyly.
"Oh, girls, while you were in China, these tots journeyed to the
sea-shore in search of treasure, and I'm the Princess Lazybones who
sits at home, and receives her subjects' peace-offerings."
"There, Alene has forgotten something," said Mrs. Bonner, picking up a
small bundle from the table. Laura reached for it, intending to
overtake Alene who had gone away a few minutes before, but a glance
showed that it was marked in pencil, "For Laura," in Alene's
handwriting.
"For me, and she didn't buy a single thing for herself," grumbled
Laura, untying the cord. "Isn't it just too sweet!" She held up a
dish of pale pink glass with a knot of blue forget-me-nots in the
corner.
"It's beautiful!" exclaimed Ivy. "I was just going to say that
somebody else forgot to buy a single thing for herself, but I see Alene
didn't forget her!"
"That little sly piece, and I never noticed her at it!" Laura said,
secretly hoping that a certain quaint amber-colored bowl which she had
deftly tucked away among Alene's purchases would prove as pleasant a
surprise to Alene.
Hugh, coming in to supper just before Laura went home, peeped into the
room in time to hear Ivy's laughing remark,
"We should confer upon Sir Mark the title of 'Rescuer-in-Chief to the
Happy-Go-Luckys!'"
Hugh, with a hasty nod to the girls, turned away.
"Don't be in such a hurry, Hugh! I've just been telling Ivy how
thrilling it was, when just in our moment of despair, Mark Griffin
appeared--"
"Like the hero on a stage," interrupted Hugh.
"No, in a skiff," corrected Laura.
"I've no time for rhapsodies now," said Hugh curtly. He turned away
with Ivy's voice, "Hear! Hear!" ringing mockingly on the air.
* * * * * *
Through the open window came the sound of children's voices,
"Here comes an old woman from New Foundland.
With all of her children in her hand,"
shrill and clamoring, but powerless to disturb Ivy who, seated beside
the window with her blue goblet beside her and a pad of writing paper
on her lap, was busy writing.
After a series of brow puckerings and erasures, she gave a sigh of
contentment.
"There it's finished! I'll read it over and put it in the Sunset Book
to-morrow!"
The old woman from New Foundland had gone home to bed, and Claude, one
of her shrill-voiced children, had rushed in sleepily and thrown
himself upon the rug, where he lay oblivious to all things, when the
absent-minded Ivy came out of her trance; the first thing she saw was
his chubby, outstretched form with both arms flung above the touzled
head from which his cap had partly fallen.
The smile of sisterly love and pride with which she enveloped him, must
have pierced the vale of unconsciousness, for the lad stirred and
smiled in his sleep.
Ivy took the goblet and poured the pebbles into her lap. They fell
against one another with a velvety sound, and gave forth a rainbow of
color, like precious stones in the light of the lamp.
She mused happily over them, the children's treasures, gathered so
carefully and given so generously.
"How cross I was to-day and all for nothing! I must be one of those
'hirelings' who are always 'looking for consolations' for I feel
consoled to-night; if only Hugh--"
A noise was heard in the little entry; footsteps and voices, and then a
pushing as of something being moved up the steps.
"What's that? It's Hugh's voice and there's someone with him!"
Ivy glanced expectantly toward the open doorway. Presently Hugh and
another boy, their faces reddened with exertion, appeared carrying some
object between them. Could it be--yes, it was a writing desk, such as
Ivy had often seen in dreams and store windows, but never hoped to
possess! Her heart gave a sudden jump and then seemed to stand still.
"Bub, be careful you don't scrape it against the side of the door!
Hello, sis--where's the best place to put it?"
Hugh tried to speak in a careless tone, but Ivy's scream of pleasure,
the sudden crimson roses that bloomed in her thin cheeks, and the
shower of stars which flashed through and dried the mist in her eyes,
brought a funny grip to his throat; he gulped and made a wry face.
"Say, Fatty, look out! You knocked my hand against the wall!"
Attracted by the noise, Mrs. Bonner came in, Claude awoke and everybody
crowded round to see the new article of furniture.
It was placed where Ivy could admire it at leisure, and the strange boy
having said good-night, Hugh displayed a lovely bronze key, unlocked
the lid and disclosed all its attractions.
"See this little drawer and the shelves, and the place for your ink and
paper, and the large drawer below, and then there's a secret drawer
I'll show you when the rest are not here," Hugh whispered the latter
part.
A secret drawer! Ivy clapped her hands--what a heavenly culmination of
attractions! And the desk as a whole, of quartered-oak with bronzed
handles and a shelf with a tiny mirror above, was indeed a beauty.
"Oh, Hugh, how--where did you get it?"
"I've been working overtime nights at Pearson's furniture store. The
old man's sick and his son had to stay home evenings. I bargained to
stay in his place and take it out this way! I kind of thought you'd
like it," Hugh explained breathlessly, glancing from his auditors to
the desk.
"Oh, Hugh!" cried Ivy deprecatingly.
"It was dead easy! Hardest part was to keep it quiet so to surprise
you. It wouldn't do to get too friendly or I'd a blurted it out!"
Hugh's head was bending over the desk, dangerously close to Ivy as it
proved, for she gave his hair a sudden pull.
"Oh, Hugh, you good-for-nothing!" she cried.
CHAPTER XIII
THE CRIMSON BAG
"Uncle Fred, I'm going to play being poor for a whole week," said
Alene, meeting Mr. Dawson at the gate one evening.
"What put that idea into your head, child?"
"You see it's so much more exciting to do things when you haven't
money! We felt quite hilarious this afternoon when Nettie discovered
that one could get a great big sugar cake for a cent at the new bakery.
It was Ivy's treat and we all went in a crowd and bought half a dozen
for five cents! We really don't see how they can afford to give such
big ones!"
"They depend on large sales and small profits, no doubt; besides it
will attract other customers. A good advertisement too, for here am I,
for one, who would have gone past the new bakery a hundred times, never
once glancing that way, never dreaming of those elephantine sugar
cakes, were it not for you! Are you sure the bakery didn't bribe you
girls to sound their praises?"
"The idea!"
"It's not so foolish after all; I'm almost famished for one of those
sugar cakes. Greedy Alene, to devour them every one!"
"No, I did not! There was Laura and Ivy, and Nettie and Claude, and
Lois and little Elmer, besides myself, to divide among!"
"Which suggests my school days and problems in arithmetic! I think
this would be a question in short division or would it be short cake?"
"No, indeed! We all had almost enough! But, Uncle, do behave! Here's
my purse; I want you to keep it."
"'With all my lordly goods I thee endow!' Why, thank you, Miss Dawson!
I hear the gold pieces clinking! But I don't know if my mamma will
allow me to accept such valuable presents!"
There was a little gurgling laugh from Alene.
"Do let me finish! I only want you to keep it for me until the end of
the week!"
"Indian giver! Indian giver! Take your old purse! I guess it was
only the clink of pennies I heard, anyway!"
Alene clasped her hands behind her back.
"You must keep it or I can't play being poor! Now Uncle, won't you be
good! I feel so ashamed to have so much when the other girls have so
little, and I want to try it for just one little week; besides, it will
be fun!"
"Fun for you, but what a temptation to put in your own Uncle's way!
However I don't want to be too selfish. I'll keep the purse."
"For a week. Thank you, Uncle!"
"Have you any more stray pennies to put in my charge?"
"I have exactly six cents left and I must get along on that."
"Won't you allow me to contribute an occasional quarter?"
"Well, not more than a nickel at a time. Just pretend I'm a poor
little girl who is hired to run errands at the Towers!"
"And if you demand part of the content of the purse?"
"Don't give it to me! But I shan't!"
Alene held her week's allowance in her hand until they entered the
house; then she placed it beside her plate at dinner. She found it
troublesome keeping track of it.
"I need a small purse to put it in. There's a pretty one for a quarter
at Nixon's store--ah, I forgot already, I haven't enough money."
Uncle Fred offered her the use of a flat red-morocco pocketbook, but
Alene said it was not convenient to carry, and besides, people would
expect so much from its size! She at last decided to use a small knit
bag of crimson silk with silver rings, which she kept in a box upstairs.
The next day she had a long letter to mail to her parents, and the
girls accompanied her to the post-office.
On the way back they heard music.
They soon came to where the players stood, a crippled Italian and a
little, dark-skinned boy, with a harp and violin.
At the conclusion of several numbers the boy went through the crowd,
holding out his battered cap.
Laura put in all she had, a bright new cent.
"I haven't a penny," lamented Ivy.
"I have just one solitary, shamed little fellow, done up in crimson
satin and silver buckles," announced Alene, taking the pretty bag from
her wrist.
Ivy giggled.
"Everybody is looking, Alene! They expect a piece of silver, at least,
from that gorgeous purse!"
"Well, I can't help it! I paid a nickle postage on my letter, you
know!"
"Yes, I know, but the rest of the town is in ignorance of that great
expenditure."
"You needn't laugh, Miss Bonner. Considering the amount of my capital,
it was a big payment to meet!"
"And so early, too, in your poverty-stricken career, I can sympathize
with you," said Laura.
The bright bag with its shining rings, over which the heads of the
three girls were bent, seemed to have attracted the attention of the
crowd as Ivy had said, and the penny, hidden away in its crimson
corner, while Alene fumbled in vain for it, held them longer in the
public gaze.
Laura gave a relieved sigh and Ivy a squeak of delight when it at last
appeared, and Alene dropped it, as if it burned her fingers, into the
outstretched cap.
As she turned away with cheeks that were blazing to match the hue of
the bag, a tall boy standing near lifted his hat courteously, and gave
way to her.
"Sir Mark!" whispered the irrepressible Ivy. "And looking as grave as
a cemetery, without the ghost of a smile!"
"If he hadn't, I'd never, _never_ have spoken to him again!" declared
Alene. "Girls, I can sympathize now with those who would like to help
others and can't."
"Giant Generosity with his pigmy purse," suggested Ivy.
"It's so much pleasanter as well as more blessed to give," remarked
Laura.
"But, after all, money isn't everything!" said Alene. "If we are poor
we can still give love and sympathy and unselfishness--"
"And advice," broke in Ivy. "And feel the richer the more we give!"
Alene said never a word to her uncle, that evening, relative to the
state of her finances. She kept her collapsed purse hidden away.
"When one is poor, one is too proud to beg!" Which reflection did not
keep her from being very glad when Mr. Dawson remarked:
"Here, child, is a nickle for the little maid who trimmed my lamp so
nicely."
She dropped him a courtesy.
"Thank you, Uncle. I think she will be very glad to get it. I feel
quite prosperous again," she said, shutting the coin away in her
crimson bag.
Mr. Dawson laughed.
"I suspect you will find that wealth has its uses, and when you are of
age and have command of a large sum of money, I only hope that you will
use it well. I think your experiences as a Happy-Go-Lucky will teach
you much that you would not otherwise learn."
"There's one thing I should like to do--find that clever doctor who
cures the lame children, and have him cure Ivy. When I'm grown up I'll
build a hospital just for the poor children--but then it will be too
late to help her!"
"My friend Dr. Medway, who assists in those operations, promised to pay
me a visit this summer," remarked the gentleman.
Alene clapped her hands.
"Oh, I'm so glad!"
"What about, Miss Jump-at-Conclusions?"
"To think that if I'm not grown up, someone else is," said Alene
mysteriously.
Uncle Fred made no reply but smiled thoughtfully as he puffed away at
his pipe.
* * * * * *
Heralded by Prince's loud barking, and escorted by Jed and Kizzie, who
ran out to investigate, a vendor, laden with a large square basket,
came to the kitchen door. Alene, who was at luncheon, hurriedly gulped
down her coffee and joined the group.
The man opened his basket and exhibited some really fine specimens of
Mexican drawn-work, beaded moccasins and Indian blankets.
Mrs. Major bought a centre piece, Kizzie a collar-and-cuff set, and
Alene looked longingly at a pair of dainty moccasins that were now,
alas, beyond her means. She thought regretfully of the cut-steel purse
in Uncle Fred's possession.
"But even if he were here I wouldn't ask for it. That would be
breaking my word," she said sturdily. The man used all his persuasive
powers in vain; she looked and longed and sadly shook her head.
At last he took from the bottom of the basket a long wooden box, and
raised the lid.
"How lovely!" They all crowded round with cries of admiration.
"You thinka them vair fine!" the man said, picking up a handful and
turning them over in the light till they shone like fairy lanterns of
rainbow-tinted dew.
"Here-a is whata you call heem, black fire opal, here-a meelk, here-a
cherry, here-a blue!" cried the seller volubly.
Alene stood in silent ecstasy! How she would love to buy three, one
each for Laura, Ivy and herself! She knew she could borrow the money
from Mrs. Major, and repay her upon Uncle Fred's return that evening,
or even let it stand until the next week, when she would regain her
fortune but--
"And here-a, leettle lady, ees de jewelry--de feela-gree broocha and de
Swastika charm," continued the man persuasively, having noted the
little girl's indecision. The others, who were aware of her vow of
voluntary poverty, looked on in sympathy and were ready, as she knew,
to help her if she desired.
"The other girls often wish to buy, and it's just as hard for them when
they can't; besides, it wouldn't be right to borrow for such things
when one is poor, and I'm not supposed to know this week that I'll be
able to afford it next," reasoned Alene, shaking her head the more
energetically to fortify her resolution.
The man, disappointed, slowly repacked his wares, shouldered them and
shambled away, while Alene stood looking on.
"After all, opals are unlucky," said Kizzie consolingly.
Alene felt Prince's soft nose against her hand.
"You feel sorry, don't you, old fellow? But this is what the rest of
the Happy-Go-Luckys have to bear all the time! I've been used to going
through the world picking up everything I fancied, with never a thought
for others who had to go without. This is a sort of experience week
for me! But cheer up, Prince Sobersides, and come along for a run!"
* * * * * *
"Girls, this is the Crimson Bag's last night, and it's my treat!"
announced Alene, when she met her friends Saturday evening.
They proceeded blithely down the street, dressed in their best, in
honor of the evening which was generally observed in the town as the
gala time of the week, when the stores were kept open to accommodate
the workingmen who were paid that night, and the young people
promenaded Main Street as far as the ice-cream parlors.
When the girls reached "Clyde's Parlors and Restaurant," as the highly
gilded sign in the window proclaimed it, they found the place crowded.
Ivy gave Laura a nudge and the latter, turning suddenly, collided with
another girl.
"I beg your pardon--Oh, Hermione, is it you?"
"You can't think it's my ghost that nearly knocked your hat off! Ah,
there's your other two-thirds, Alene and Ivy! How d'you do, girls?"
She paused for a chat until Vera with several other girls came along on
their way out of the store.
"Ah, good evening, Alene! Let me introduce my friends," she said,
proceeding with the ceremony and totally ignoring Laura and Ivy.
"And these are my friends, Miss Lee and Miss Bonner," said Alene.
Vera soon hurried her party away, but they had gone only a few steps
when she paused at a show case, apparently much interested in its
contents.
"I want to see what Alene Dawson is going to buy!" she explained in an
undertone. "That's the reason she likes to go with those girls; she
can 'show off' more with them and act the Lady Bountiful! Mamma says
it's a shame for her uncle to allow her so much money to throw away!"
Hermione shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh, come along, girls; it's none of our affair," said she, but Vera's
words had aroused the curiosity of the others and they loitered beside
her.
All unconscious of their spying, Alene and her friends went their way.
Instead of taking seats at one of the many little tables placed
invitingly around, they stopped at the next counter. Alene unfastened
the crimson bag and gravely searched within it.
"More show!" whispered Vera.
"Three Dill pickles, please; you need not wrap them up," said Alene,
laying a nickle on the counter.
Then Vera made a hasty retreat amid the raillery of her friends.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE GARDEN PARTY
"Letters for the whole bunch!" cried Lafe Bonner, coming into the
sitting-room on his return from the post-office. "Hugh Bonner,
E--s--q--Esquimau--wonder why they call his nibs that? Master Donald
Bonner, Master Roy Bonner, Little Claude Bonner, Master Walter Bonner
and--" Lafe stammered and got very red when he saw the address 'Gen.
Lafayette Bonner.' "One for me, too," he continued hurriedly; "and
last for Mrs. L. Bonner."
All the members of the family in reach took their letters, and Ivy,
seated at her new writing desk in the corner next to the window, turned
round expectantly, saying,
"Where's mine?"
Lafe held up his empty hands.
"You may search me! Somebody's forgotten this time!"
"Come here," commanded Ivy.
Lafe advanced, wearing a guileless expression until Ivy ran her hand
into his empty coat pocket, and fumbling round, found a snug space in
the lining and brought forth the missing epistle.
"Of course I couldn't fool her in that," mused Lafe sheepishly, when he
read the contents of his high titled note:
YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO A
GARDEN PARTY AT THE TOWERS ON
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER THE FIRST.
HOURS 1:30 TO 8 P. M.
The opening of the mail, always an important event in the town, had
proved a pleasantly exciting one that day.
There was a shower of white envelopes from the little square window.
Almost everyone who called received one or more, according to the
number of children in the family; many regular inquirers who were never
known to get even a circular, were at last rewarded, and proudly waved
their little white banners so that all the world might see. The
unusually large number of mail-bearing pedestrians gave Main Street a
gala air.
Ivy, on watch at the window, hugged herself and smiled contentedly, for
was she not one of the conspirators who, in league with the Post-office
Department, had sent all those little white flags a-flutter through the
town?
It was Mr. Dawson who had suggested the idea.
"You have enjoyed so many merry-makings at your friends' hands, don't
you think it would be a good thing to make some return, Alene alanna?"
he inquired one evening, when they sat by the library table, he smoking
a pipe as usual, while Alene finished a page of a daily journal which
she sent each week to her parents.
She beamed at the questioner across the table.
"Oh, Uncle Fred, I'd love to! What shall we do? May I get the girls
to help, and make it a regular Happy-Go-Lucky affair?"
"Certainly--and the boys, too, if you wish. I notice they are
generally mustered in, 'to help or to hinder,' as the case may be. You
might have an outside party if the weather is fine."
"And then we could invite so many more!"
"Invite all the town if you wish. I'll see that there's enough big
sugar cakes to go round if we break the bakery. Suppose you ask Mrs.
Major and Kizzie in, and see how it strikes them!"
Alene skipped away and soon returned with the buxom housekeeper and the
rosy little maid, all in a stir of excitement.
"I see Alene had no trouble in finding enthusiastic allies," said Uncle
Fred in his genial way, that always set people at ease.
Everybody found seats and a pleasant hour followed in offering
suggestions and making plans, while Prince lay on the rug lazily
nodding approbation, or giving a friendly bark when Alene asked his
opinion.
That was only the beginning of a happy time. The girls were deep in
blissful preparations the next ten days; the cheerful helpers, Mat and
Hugh, held many consultations with Jed and the gardener and Uncle Fred;
an array of pavilions, swings, maypoles, rustic seats and tables sprang
up in the Towers' grounds, and the kitchen range glowed like a furnace,
turning out enough good things to feed a multitude.
Laura, Ivy, and Alene spent two afternoons in the library, making out
lists and addressing invitations. Uncle Fred peeped in once or twice,
bringing sheets of postage-stamps.
"May I take a few invitations? There are some fellows big and little
I'd like to ask," he inquired.
Alene glanced up from her task, pen in hard and nodded absent-mindedly.
"I suppose so."
Apparently overwhelmed by her condescension, he furtively picked up
half a dozen invitations and slouched away with a culprit-like mien
that made Ivy lean back in her chair and laugh till she was out of
breath.
Alene gazed at her wonderingly with such an innocent air that another
explosion resulted, and sober Laura, all unaware of the little by-play,
gave Ivy a smart rap on the back, which only increased her mirth.
"Hysterics?" inquired Alene.
"I thought she was choking, but she's only practising to be a
contortionist," returned Laura, gazing apprehensively at the convulsed
figure beside her.
"You girls will be the death of me, along with Mr. Dawson; he looked so
funny," explained Ivy, in gasps, wiping her eyes.
They settled back to work with a will.
"Shall we ask Mark Griffin?" inquired Laura. "I have him on my list."
"So have I."
"And I!"
"One invitation will answer, I fancy! Kindly address it, Miss Dawson."
"And now the Happy-Go-Luckys may be as reckless as they please; fall
off tree-tops, get lost in the grape-arbors, or tumble into the
fountain--it's all the same," cried Ivy.
"_If_ he comes!"
"Perhaps he won't, without his band of buccaneers. I wonder if they
are the Torchlights," said Alene.
"He 'shut up like a clam' as Mat says, when I asked him that day, but I
got even with his High Mightiness," returned Laura.
"Say, girls," broke in Ivy, "I feel kind of lonesome! Everybody in
town will have a bid but us."
"Poor child, she shall have one!" Alene held out for inspection a
missive duly stamped and addressed.
"Now, Ivy, you might address Hermione's, and I'll send Vera's."
Ivy made a grimace.
"I'm glad you don't put it the other way!"
"I'd like to ask Hermione to help in our tissue-paper work, but we
can't ask her without Vera."
"Hermione's a dear, so for her sake let's set up with Vera," said Laura.
Ivy gave a prodigious groan.
"'Take the bitter with the sweet,' though it will be Vera bitter."
So it came to pass that the library was the scene of many more busy
hours, and the working-force of the Happy-Go-Luckys was increased by
the Ramsey girls, who threw themselves heartily into the making of
tissue-paper caps, rosettes and flowers, in which Vera proved an adept,
and her productions were so much admired and praised by the others that
she became quite amiable, and gave them no reason to regret the
invitation.
The time went fast enough to these busy workers, though it seemed very
slow to the rest of the young people.
Every lawn in town flew yards of dainty garments all belaced and
beruffled; many small frocks and waists having seen much service were
patched and mended to see more, there was an epidemic of ribbons,
curling-irons, and fancy slippers, which grew worse as the great day
approached, and when it came at last--as fine a day as one could
wish--each house sent forth its quota of shining-faced, bedizened
merry-makers to besiege the Towers' gates.
The smaller children were directed to the library, where they were
captured by the larger girls, decorated with tissue-paper favors and
set loose; "like a flock of birds and butterflies," as Hermione said,
or "a plague of hungry locusts," to quote Ivy, who stood on the porch
at the front door watching their flight.
"I don't want this old red cap," declared Claude.
"And I want a yellow one like Lawa's weaf," wailed Lois, while Nettie,
for once figuring as amiability, with a blue top-knot on her golden
tresses, only lingered with the others to give them countenance, as it
were.
"Shoo, shoo!" cried the unfeeling Ivy, waving them away with her
skirts. "Who are those boys who went past just now, looking so much
amused, Laura? The short one stared at you as if he knew you."
"I didn't notice," returned Laura, glancing after the lads.
"It's that boy you made buy the white pitcher," said Alene.
"The other looks like one of Mark Griffin's soldiers of misfortune.
Hoy, Mat!" Ivy hailed the latter in passing. "Who are those boys?"
"Bud Waters and Artie Orr; they came with Mark Griffin and Jack
Lever,--there's Jack now."
"That thin boy leaning on the cane? I wondered who he was!"
"Yes, he's been laid up with a broken leg; is just able to hobble
round; that's the reason we haven't seen him and Mark together for so
long. They are hobnobbing with the Stony Road gang to-day."
"The gang? Why, are they all here?"
"Five or six, I should say. Mr. Dawson seemed to know them and sent
Jed to show them round."
"That explains where Uncle Fred's invitations went."
"I shouldn't wonder if he knows all about the Torchlights, too!"
"Neither should I, Laura."
"The Torchlights?" cried Vera; "Who are they?"
"'A sort of club,'" said Laura, shutting her lips together in an
imitation of Mark.
CHAPTER XXV
IVY'S FRIEND
In the middle of the afternoon as Ivy sat alone on a bench beneath a
tree, listening to the band and watching the children circling merrily
round a number of maypoles, she heard a voice at her side:
"Excuse me, but may I have part of your seat?"
"Why, certainly!" she said, making room for the speaker, a middle-aged
man with genial blue eyes and a blonde beard, who was dressed in an
easy-fitting, light suit, and carried a large book which he placed with
his hat on the grass at his feet.
"I guess he's a friend of the housekeeper's; I noticed him speaking
with her to-day," thought Ivy, her gaze straying back to the
light-footed dancers.
"It looks easy, twirling those ribbons around the poles, but isn't it
rather warm weather, for dancing?"
Ivy turned upon him a pair of eyes full of pity for his ignorance.
"Why, it would be lovely! I'm sure I'd never think of the heat if--"
she glanced eloquently at the crutches which leaned against the tree.
"It's too bad, at a time like this especially; I shouldn't like that
either! Though my dancing days are past, I like to walk a lot and
gather 'yarbs an' things,'" he said. Taking up the big black book, he
displayed a collection of pressed plants, leaves and flowers, in which
Ivy took so much interest that he showed her through the book,
explaining the value and rarity of his treasures gathered from many
places, and relating incidents connected with his travels in search of
them.
Ivy gave a sigh of admiration.
"How lovely to travel that way! One could write a book about it!"
"Do you like to write? I hope then you will get a chance some day to
visit all those countries."
Ivy shook her head.
"Not hopping around on those," she said bitterly, and with a few
sympathetic questions he drew from her the sad story of her affliction.
She was afterwards surprised at her own volubility, being, as a rule,
very shy with strangers.
"I have seen children who were even worse than you completely cured,"
he said; he related several instances while Ivy listened with flaming
cheeks and glistening eyes. A dozen questions trembled on her tongue
when a crowd of girls came along, one of whom paused beside her, saying,
"Ivy, Ivy, come on! Don't you hear the bell?"
"Oh, Laura, I forgot all about eating," said Ivy somewhat ruefully.
The stranger smiled.
"Then you are the only one to forget, for see, the youngsters are
racing from everywhere right upon us." He glanced at his watch. "Four
o'clock--it's time for me to seek my place at the visitors' table!" He
picked up his book and hat while the girls hurried away.
The children assembled in front of the Towers and marched in five
battalions headed by chiefs wearing different colored tissue-paper
wreaths.
Laura with yellow roses led the yellow-capped tots; Vera with blue
flowers, the blue-capped ones; Hermione crowned with lilacs, the
lavender; Ivy in crimson roses, the red, and Alene in pink roses, the
pink.
A few of the children marched in wrong companies. Lois, despite her
blue cap, clung closely to her beloved "Lawa."
"With Claude it's not color blindness, but Nettie," explained Ivy, when
that rebellious red-cap was seen stepping brazenly in Vera's train.
Vera for once seemed to forget herself in seeing to the welfare of her
small charges, who one and all regarded her with admiring eyes; she
enjoyed the sensation of being the centre of attraction and graciously
accepted their homage, although the majority were "nobodies" whom she
had affected to despise.
"Vera bitter has become Vera sweet," observed Ivy, giving a shy nod to
the Botanist who was seated with the other grown-ups at the visitors'
table watching the children filing past. Beside him was Mrs. Ramsey,
resplendent in black net over coral-colored silk, who at that moment
was explaining for his benefit:
"The tall, fair girl, wearing blue flowers, is my daughter Vera, and
there is Hermione, my oldest, in white with the lilac wreath."
"The Happy-Go-Luckys are partial to tissue-paper," Mr. Dawson said,
smilingly.
"The dear girls! And the tots look like fairies in those pretty caps!"
said the lady, proud of her daughters' success.
"This active life has certainly done wonders for Freddie's little
niece. She was pale and delicate when she came here in the spring and
look at her now!" and Miss Marlin, a slight little woman in Quakerish
gray, smiled at Alene whose cheeks outvied the roses in her wreath.
"Her mother will be delighted to find her so improved," said Mrs.
Ramsey. "My girls think the world of Alene and that funny club, the
what-do-you-call-'ems?"
"The Happy-Go-Luckys," suggested Mrs. Major, who wore her best black
silk in honor of the day.
The Happy-Go-Luckys, unconscious of having won a champion, passed on to
their respective tables; soon all were placed and with mirth and
laughter the feast began.
And what a feast it was!
"Niagaras of lemonade, seas of milk and coffee, pyramids of fruit,
hills of candy, mountains of cake, whole continents of toothsome
things--"
"Not forgetting Sandwich Islands," said Jack Lever, interrupting Mat's
flow of oratory.
"Is that in reference to our cannibalistic appetites?" inquired Mark
Griffin.
"'The bogie man will get you if you don't be good!'" squealed Artie Orr
in a high falsetto voice.
"Who is that farmer-looking gentleman at the visitors' table? The one
speaking to Mr. Dawson?" Ivy asked in an aside of Kizzie who flitted
from one table to another, her rosy face like a small sun shining above
a cloud of pink and white lawn.
"He's visitin' Mr. Fred--he's from the city, I think. He just came
to-day and I didn't hear his name."
"Why, that's Dr. Medway," said Alene; "he's from Dr. Luke's hospital."
"I never dreamed he was a doctor! I talked away like a graphophone,
and he told me about many children worse than I am who were cured, just
think!"
"Oh, Ivy, Ivy, he'll cure you then!" cried Alene with a quick breath of
ecstasy.
Ivy's joy subsided; the tears came in her eyes.
"But I guess it would cost a fortune," she said dejectedly.
Shortly after lunch Dr. Medway, sauntering along the walk enjoying a
cigar and escorted by Prince, who had taken a fancy to him, was
arrested by a voice.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but are you Dr. Medway?"
"I am. What can I do for you, young man?"
"Ivy, the little lame girl--I'm her brother, Hugh Bonner--you told her
about so many cures--Oh, sir, if you would undertake to cure her--why,
I haven't any money now, but I'd pay you some day if it took me a
lifetime, and I'd--I'd work my fingers to the bone for you!" cried the
lad, forgetting in his earnestness the dignified speech he had
prepared, and speaking with all the intensity of his long-cherished
desire.
"You are a good brother, Hugh, my lad, but I'm not a Shylock. I heard
of the little girl before I came here. I shall see your mother about
her to-morrow; and be assured the main thing is to cure Ivy--nothing
else matters!" and the doctor gave Hugh's hand a vigorous grip.
CHAPTER XXVI
AN ADVENTURE
"Where is Lois?" Laura flitted from one group of people to another,
growing anxious in her continued failure to get any information.
"She was naughty, and she's gone!" screamed Claude and Nettie, who came
rushing hand in hand out the front door.
"Where did she go?"
"Over the roof."
Laura grew pale.
"The roof? Whereabouts? Where is she, I say? Where were you?" She
took hold of their shoulders as if to shake the answers out of them.
Alas, when they spoke her worst fears were confirmed! The children had
climbed the four flights of steps to the tower room, where Lois had
crawled out upon the roof; they called to her and in trying to turn she
had slipped out of sight over the edge.
Laura ran moaning toward the foot of the tower, dreading to find a
little crushed body lying there inert, but no! the crowd was gazing
upward horror-stricken, and she caught a glimpse of a white object
clinging to a swinging ladder high up in the air.
Between the second story and the sloping tower roof a scaffold had been
erected by workmen who were repairing the walls. Fearing possible
injury to the children by falling stones, Mr. Dawson had instructed
them not to work on the day of the picnic and they had secured the
scaffold from the reach of mischievous boys, placing it fortunately
just in position to arrest the child's fall.
"If only she doesn't get dizzy!" a voice was saying and Laura for the
first time noticed that a boy was scaling the wall. Favored by the
thick vines and uneven stones up he went with the agility of an
acrobat. He was bareheaded and the sun shone on his face, reddened
with exertion, and on his sandy hair and Laura recognized him as one of
the Stony Road boys, the one she had talked with on the glass-boat.
"It's Bud Waters--the rest of us were too heavy to try it, and he was
off like a squirrel, soon as he saw the child," explained Mat
hurriedly. He was with a crowd of boys, among whom were Mark, Hugh,
and Jed, carrying a coil of rope.
"We're going up to the roof--if she only holds out that long!"
"Mat, Mat, it's our Lois!" wailed Laura. She saw Mat's face blanch,
and the crowd passed, leaving her half crazed. She knew that Alene and
Ivy were standing beside her with tears in their eyes, murmuring half
audible prayers, but she did not see them. Her gaze turned steadily
upon the little hanging figure, and on the boy who went climbing up the
wall.
Ah, he has almost reached the goal--he has grasped the ladder--a thrill
went through the crowd--he is holding the little one safe from harm!
Then, seated beside her on the ladder, he gave a whoop of joy that was
answered by the crowd's enthusiastic cries. A moment later the other
boys were seen at the narrow windows above and the rope came gliding
over the roof.
Then everything became a blur to Laura; she heard a shout of many
voices and knew no more until she found herself sitting on a bench with
Mrs. Major fanning her, Miss Marlin demanding fiercely from everybody
why she had forgotten to bring her lavender salts, Kizzie dancing round
with a glass of water, and Ivy and Alene kneeling on the grass chafing
her hands, and then, oh blessed sight, Uncle Fred coming across the
lawn with Lois safe in his arms!
On seeing her big sister, she stuck a tiny finger into her mouth half
abashed.
"Lawa, don't cwy! I didn't mean to go so far down the woof!" she
cried, cuddling into Laura's arms.
"Oh, girls! I could kneel to that boy! I'd go and kiss him now only I
know boys hate to be fussed over!" declared Laura.
"I'll give him a bushel of kisses!" cried Lois rapturously, whereupon
they kissed her all round while Nettie looked on enviously at the stir
the little maid was making.
"I wonder why when I'm naughty I get a scolding instead of kisses," she
confided to Claude.
"I suppose it's because you've never been quite that naughty, though
you've been pretty bad," he said, which latter assurance consoled his
chum.
CHAPTER XXVII
IN THE TOWER
Later in the evening when the smaller children had gone home, some of
the others proposed a visit to the tower room to view the sunset, and a
gay crowd scurried up the stairs.
Ivy, who could climb the stairs almost as nimbly as her mates, lingered
in the rear with Jack Lever.
"It's pretty hard lines," he remarked smilingly, answering her
sympathetic expression.
"Yes, indeed, but you will be all right in no time! Just be thankful
it won't last for years and years!"
"The brave little gipsy!" thought Jack. He gave her a kindly glance,
noting with an insight gained by his late acquaintance with pain, the
marks of suffering always so pathetic on a childish face.
"Things like this teach us a lot, don't you think? I feel as if I'd
become quite old, tied so long to a sofa, like a thing-um-bub--those
lace affairs the girls make, you know--"
"A tidy?"
"Untidy I call 'em, always sticking to a fellow's coat! If it wasn't
for the Torchlights, I'd have gone all to pieces."
Ivy started, but curbing her curiosity and profiting by Laura's
experience she merely repeated,
"The--the Torchlights?"
"Yes, our club, you know."
Ivy felt that Jack was ready and willing to enlarge upon the theme; she
chuckled inwardly, gleefully anticipating the tale she would have for
the other girls.
Alas, at that moment Jed came up the stairs with a large pitcher of
lemonade and glasses on a tray, and Kizzie followed with a huge frosted
cake.
"We thought you would like this, along with the sunset," she said.
Together they climbed the fourth and last flight of stairs and received
a noisy greeting from the others on entering the tower room.
Jack gave them an elaborate bow.
"I assure you, my friends, we feel flattered by this demonstrative
welcome."
"We don't want to throw cold lemonade on your joy, me boy, but your
credentials are excellent," returned Mat, taking the cake from Kizzie.
Jed and the little maid, assisted by the boys, proceeded to pour out
lemonade and to cut cake amid the clinking of glasses and merry talk.
The tower room was of octagon shape; crimson tapestry curtains edged
with tarnished gilt fringe hung at the eight narrow windows, and a rug
of faded crimson velvet half covered the painted floor. A heavy walnut
table and a revolving bookcase graced the centre of the room, and an
old fashioned wooden settee and several ancient chairs stood round, now
occupied by the young people who ate and drank and chattered, the
majority quite unmindful of their journey's object--Old Sol, in his
departing splendor, glorifying the clouds with prismatic color, ere he
sank beyond the far-reaching hills.
"You look quite uplifted," cried Alene, when Ivy, one of the few
onlookers, turned from the window.
She gave an expressive glance backward toward the fast-fading sky.
"It's that and something Hugh just told me. He spoke to Dr. Medway--"
"Yes, I know, and oh, I'm so glad!"
"And I too!" cried Laura, joining them.
"I like Dr. Medway; he never once called me 'an interesting case' but
talked as if I were just a little girl he would like to see cured.
When I think of it I feel so queer, I have to keep tight hold of my
crutches, to keep from floating away into the air, like a balloon!"
Ivy glanced across the room. "Things seem to be upside down, for there
I imagine I see Hugh and Mark Griffin buzzing together like two old
gossips!"
"It's not imagination; all the boys are as amiable as the children when
they play Mrs. Come-to-See! They were tottering on the brink of
friendship and Lois toppled them over into each other's arms."
"You Happy-Go-Luckys look to your laurels; Hugh and I belong to a club
of our own now!" called Mat.
"What, the Torchlights?" chorused the three.
He looked surprised.
"How did you know about it?"
They looked wise but said not a word, and Ivy whispered to the girls
how near she had come to finding out.
At that moment, taking a glass of lemonade, Mark Griffin stood up.
"To the clever and plucky,
The Happy-Go-Lucky--club!"
he cried, with a sly smile, which told them he knew all about it.
"How did you know?" asked one.
"Who told you?"
"Hugh, that was shabby of you!"
"You girls are always patching up some mystery or other. How was I to
know?" said Hugh.
Jack Lever, who was leaning against the table, came over and sat on the
settee beside the girls.
"Mark didn't play fair; he never said a word about it till Mat and Hugh
had told your secret, so to get even I'll tell you his."
Amid the girls' applause and Mark's protests he commenced.
"You ought to know Phillip Gamer, the first Torchlight, ran away from
home when he was twelve to join the Salvation Army. He was a drummer
boy in the ranks until a detective, hired by his dad, shadowed him and
brought him home, but last year at school he said the Army had helped
him to a view of a question which had puzzled him all his life. His
mother declared that even as a baby, he had protested in lusty tones
against silver-backed hair-brushes and perfumed soaps, and when the
nurse perambulated him in the park, a bunch of ragged, barefoot kids
would surround the beaming youngster in his silk-lined carriage. There
might be a dozen other baby vehicles round, which they wouldn't think
of touching, nor of speaking to those tony babies, but they seemed to
overlook Phil's frills and laces and took to him like brothers.
"At school he refused one of the high-priced rooms, because it would
separate him in a way from the boys he wished most to meet, the boys
who thought things out for themselves. Phil's coming knocked out that
feeling,--a sort of caste--which divided the rich scholars from the
poor; his room was a meeting point--the plane upon which they became
fellow-men. Here the Torchlights came into being. Our counter-sign,
The Brotherhood of Man, and though there was only one of us who
intended to work as a minister in the slums, each was pledged to
individual effort in his own locality.
"Mark and I were the only Torchlights from this town, and the first
thing I did when I got home was to break my bones in a runaway, and
that put me out of the race."
"But it didn't keep him from doing a lot for the boys," said Mark.
"Every week we all visited him and had a jolly evening with games,
reading and singing and a dandy lunch. At first Jack's people rather
scouted the idea of entertaining the Stony Road gang. The first night
one of them cut a fine china plate in two, and another shied egg-shells
over his shoulder against the wall. Mrs. Lever was horrified, but we
begged her to wait and give us another trial."
"Now mother and the rest are completely won over and help us lots. I
believe I would have knocked my brains out against the wall this
summer, only for the Torchlights. I found we can't do good to others
without receiving a reactionary benefit. As Phil says, many a rich lad
joins in a patronizing way, thinking he's going to revolutionize
things, and soon finds it's himself that needs to be done over."
"We were surprised to find a sister club ahead of us here, but we are
not at all jealous!" said Mark.
"We can help each other out."
"I thank you in the name of the Happy-Go-Luckys! The Torchlights are
fine!" said Laura heartily.
"We might all take for our club poem this little verse," and, half
embarrassed by the sudden silence, Alene recited softly--
"'Jesus bids us shine,
With a clear pure light,
Like a little candle,
Burning in the night.
In the world is darkness,
So we must shine,
You in your corner,
And I in mine.'"
"Your lights are torches, you can take them with you out into the
world," said Laura.
"As we are all so solemncholy, I'll propose a toast:
'To the dear, ducky duckies,
The Happy-Go-Luckys!'"
cried Mat.
"And here's another--take it for your motto:
'For lofty flights
The Torchlights!'"
Ivy's neat allusion brought forth three cheers for Bud Waters.
"Mr. Dawson inquired about Bud to-day. I bet he'll look out for him,
though he has been kind to the Torchlights all along."
The girls glanced at each other as if to say, "What did I tell you?"
"The other day he gave us the use of a big room over his offices; said
we could use it for a library and he'd provide the books and
furniture," said Mark.
"When there's 'something doing' in the way of reform, Fred Dawson is
right there," said Jack.
Whereupon there followed three ringing cheers for that gentleman, which
made Alene color with pride. And then the meeting adjourned.
They all descended to the first floor, where the boys joined the men in
the library, and the girls went outside for a parting ramble and chat,
with Prince gambolling around them.
"There are things about the Torchlights we might copy," remarked Laura.
"They take in members whether they like them or not, and try to help
them."
"We might invite Hermione and Vera to start with," suggested Ivy.
"That would be kind. I think they would like it," said Alene.
They had reached the grassy terrace beneath the apple-trees, and Ivy,
with a sudden recollection exclaimed,
"Girls, it was here we first met, or I should say parted, for Net and I
ran so hard we lost our apples in tumbling over the wall, leaving poor
Lol to be eaten up by Prince."
"That was the fifteenth of June. I remember it so well," said Laura.
"We have had some lovely times together since then," said Alene.
"To-day was the loveliest of all," declared Ivy.
Then Alene uttered hopefully a prediction that in time proved a true
one:
"Girls, we'll have a happier time still on the anniversary of that
day--Ivy will be cured, and we'll dance round the Maypole together, the
'maddest, merriest' Happy-Go-Luckys in all the world!"
THE END.