A Lodger to the Rescue
Grass was beginning to grow on the tiny lawn, all sorts of thrifty young
seedlings were popping up in the flower beds, and Jean's pansies were
actually beginning to blossom. The girls had trained the rampant
Virginia creeper away from the windows and had coaxed it to climb the
porch pillars. From the outside, no one would have suspected that
Dandelion Cottage was not occupied by a regular grown-up family. Book
agents and peddlers offered their wares at the front door, and appeared
very much crestfallen when Bettie, or one of the others, explained that
the neatly kept little cottage was just a playhouse. Handbills and
sample packages of yeast cakes were left on the doorstep, and once a
brand-new postman actually dropped a letter into the letter-box; Mabel
carried it afterward to Mrs. Bartholomew Crane, to whom it rightfully
belonged.
One afternoon, when Jean was rearranging the dining-room pictures--they
had to be rearranged very frequently--and when Mabel and Marjory were
busy putting fresh papers on the pantry shelves, there was a ring at the
doorbell.
Bettie, who had been dusting the parlor, pushed the chairs into place,
threw her duster into the dining-room and ran to the door. A
lady--Bettie described her afterwards as a "middle-aged young lady with
the sweetest dimple"--stood on the doorstep.
"Is your mother at home?" asked the lady, smiling pleasantly at Bettie,
who liked the stranger at once.
"She--she doesn't live here," said Bettie, taken by surprise.
"Perhaps you can tell me what I want to know. I'm a stranger in town and
I want to rent a room in this neighborhood. I am to have my meals at
Mrs. Baker's, but she hasn't any place for me to sleep. I don't want
anything very expensive, but of course I'd be willing to pay a fair
price. Do you know of anybody with rooms to rent? I'm to be in town for
three weeks."
Bettie shook her head, reflectively. "No, I don't believe I do,
unless--"
Bettie paused to look inquiringly at Jean, who, framed by the
dining-room doorway, was nodding her head vigorously.
"Perhaps Jean does," finished Bettie.
"Are you _very_ particular," asked Jean, coming forward, "about what
kind of room it is?"
"Why, not so very," returned the guest. "I'm afraid I couldn't afford a
very grand one."
"Are you very timid?" asked Bettie, who had suddenly guessed what Jean
had in mind. "I mean are you afraid of burglars and mice and things like
that?"
"Why, most persons are, I imagine," said the young woman, whose eyes
were twinkling pleasantly. "Are there a great many mice and burglars in
this neighborhood?"
"Mice," said Jean, "but not burglars. It's a _very_ honest neighborhood.
I think I have an idea, but you see there are four of us and I'll have
to consult the others about it, too. Sit here, please, in the cozy
corner--it's the safest piece of furniture we have. Now if you'll
excuse us just a minute we'll go to the kitchen and talk it over."
"Certainly," murmured the lady, who looked a trifle embarrassed at
encountering the gaze of the forty-two staring dolls that sat all around
the parlor with their backs against the baseboard. "I hope I haven't
interrupted a party."
"Not at all," assured Bettie, with her best company manner.
"Girls," said Jean, when she and Bettie were in the kitchen with the
door carefully closed behind them, "would you be willing to rent the
front bedroom to a clean, nice-looking lady if she'd be willing to take
it? She wants to pay for a room, she says, and she _looks_ very polite
and pleasant, doesn't she, Bettie?"
"Yes," corroborated Bettie, "I like her. She has kind of twinkling brown
eyes and such nice dimples."
"You see," explained Jean, "the money would pay for Mr. Black's dinner."
"Why, so it would," cried Marjory. "Let's do it."
"Yes," echoed Mabel, "for goodness' sake, let's do it. It's only three
weeks, anyway, and what's three weeks!"
"How would it be," asked Marjory, cautiously, "to take her on approval?
Aunty Jane always has hats and things sent on approval, so she can send
them back if they don't fit."
"Splendid!" cried Mabel. "If she doesn't fit Dandelion Cottage, she
can't stay."
"Oh," gurgled Marjory, "_what_ a dinner we'll give Mr. Black and Mrs.
Crane! We'll have ice cream and--"
"Huh!" said Mabel, "most likely she won't take the room at all. Anyhow,
probably she's got tired of waiting and has gone."
"We'll go and see," said Jean. "Come on, everybody."
The lady, however, still sat on the hard, lumpy cozy corner, with her
toes just touching the ground.
"Well," said she, smiling at the flock of girls, "how about the idea?"
The other three looked expectantly at Jean; Mabel nudged her elbow and
Bettie nodded at her.
"_You_ talk," said Marjory; "you're the oldest."
"It's like this," explained Jean. "This house isn't good enough to rent
to grown-ups because it's all out of repair, so they've lent it to us
for the summer for a playhouse. The back of it leaks dreadfully when it
rains, and the plaster is all down in the kitchen, but the front bedroom
is really very nice--if you don't mind having four kinds of carpet on
the floor. This is a very safe neighborhood, no tramps or anything like
that, and if you're not an awfully timid person, perhaps you wouldn't
mind staying alone at night."
"If you did," added Bettie, "probably one of us could sleep in the other
room unless it happened to rain--it rains right down on the bed."
"Could I go upstairs to look at the room?" asked the young woman.
"There isn't any upstairs," said Bettie, pulling back a curtain; "the
room's right here."
"Why! What a dear little room--all white and blue!"
"I hope you don't mind having children around," said Marjory, somewhat
anxiously. "You see, we'd have to play in the rest of the house."
"Of course," added Jean, hastily, "if you had company you could use the
parlor--"
"And the front steps," said Bettie.
"I'm very fond of children," said the young lady, "and I don't expect to
have any company but you because I don't know anybody here. I shall be
away every day until about five o'clock because I am here with my father
who is tuning church organs, and I have to help him. I strike the notes
while he works behind the organ. He has a room at Mrs. Baker's, but she
didn't have any place to put me. I think I should like this little room
very much indeed. Now, how much are you going to charge me for it?"
Jean looked at Bettie, and Bettie looked at the other two.
"I don't know," said Jean, at last.
"Neither do I," said Bettie.
"Would--would a dollar a week be too much?" asked Marjory.
"It wouldn't be enough," said the young woman, promptly. "My father pays
five for the room _he_ has, but it's really a larger room than he
wanted. I should be very glad to give you two dollars and a half a
week--I'm sure I couldn't find a furnished room anywhere for less than
that. Can I move in tonight? I've nothing but a small trunk."
"Ye-es," said Bettie, looking inquiringly at Jean. "I _think_ we could
get it ready by seven o'clock. It's all perfectly clean, but you see
we'll have to change things around a little and fix up the washstand."
"I'm sure," said the visitor, turning to depart, "that it all looks
quite lovely just as it is. You may expect me at seven."
"Well," exclaimed Marjory, when the door had closed behind their
pleasant visitor, "isn't this too grand for words! It's just like
finding a bush with pennies growing on it, or a pot of gold at the end
of the rainbow. Two and a half a week! That's--let me see. Why! that's
seven dollars and a half! We can buy Mr. Black's dinner and have enough
money left to live on for a long time afterwards."
"Mercy!" cried Mabel. "We never said a word to her about taking her on
approval. We didn't even ask her name."
"Pshaw!" said Jean. "She's all right. She couldn't be disagreeable if
she wanted to with that dimple and those sparkles in her eyes; but,
girls, we've a tremendous lot to do."
"Yes," said Mabel. "If she'd known that the pillows under those ruffled
shams were just flour sacks stuffed with excelsior, she wouldn't have
thought everything so lovely. Girls, what in the world are we to do for
sheets? We haven't even one."
"And blankets?" said Marjory.
"And quilts?" said Bettie. "That old white spread is every bit of
bedclothes we own. I was _so_ afraid she'd turn the cover down and see
that everything else was just pieces of burlap."
"It's a good thing the mattress is all right," said Marjory. "But there
isn't any bottom to the water pitcher, and the basin leaks like
anything."
"We'll just have to go home," said Jean, "and tell our mothers all about
it. We'll have to borrow what we need. We must get a lamp too, and some
oil, because there isn't any other way of lighting the house."
The four girls ran first of all to Bettie's house with their surprising
news.
"But, Bettie," said Mrs. Tucker, when her little daughter, helped by
the other three, had explained the situation, "are you _sure_ she's
nice? I'm afraid you've been a little rash."
"Just as nice as can be," assured Bettie.
"Yes," said Dr. Tucker, "I guess it's all right. I know the organ
tuner--I used to see him twice a year when we lived in Ohio. His name is
Blossom and he's a very fine old fellow. I met his daughter this
afternoon when they were examining the church organ, and she seemed a
pleasant, well-educated young woman--I believe he said she teaches a
kindergarten during the winter. The girls haven't made any mistake this
time."
"Then we must make her comfortable," said Mrs. Tucker. "You may take
sheets and pillow-cases from the linen closet, Bettie, and you must see
that she has everything she needs."
Excited Bettie danced off to the linen closet and the others ran home to
tell the good news.
"I've filled a lamp for you, Bettie," said Mrs. Tucker, meeting Bettie,
with her arms full of sheets at the bottom of the stairs. "Here's a box
of matches, too."
When Bettie was returning with her spoils to Dandelion Cottage she
almost bumped into Mabel, whom she met at the gate with a pillow under
each arm, a folded patchwork quilt balanced unsteadily on her head, and
her chubby hands clasped about a big brass lamp.
"The pillows are off my own bed," said Mabel. "Mother wasn't home, but
she wouldn't care, anyway."
"But can you sleep without them?"
"Oh, I'll take home one of the excelsior ones," said Mabel. "I can sleep
on anything."
Jean came in a moment later with a pile of blankets and quilts. She,
too, had a lamp, packed carefully in a big basket that hung from her
arm. Marjory followed almost at her heels with more bedding, towels, a
fourth lamp, and two candlesticks.
"Well," laughed Bettie, when all the lamps and candles were placed in a
row on the dining-room table, "I guess Miss Blossom will have almost
light enough. Here are four big lamps and two candles--"
"I've six more candles in my blouse," said Mabel, laughing and fishing
them out one at a time. "I thought they'd do for the blue candlesticks
Mrs. Crane gave us for the bedroom."
"Isn't it fortunate," said Jean, who was thumping the mattress
vigorously, "that we put the best bed in this room? Beds are such hard
things to move."
"Ye-es," said Bettie, rather doubtfully, "but I think we'd better tell
Miss Blossom not to be surprised if the slats fall out once in a while
during the night. You know they always do if you happen to turn over
too suddenly."
"We must warn her about the chairs, too," said Marjory. "They're none of
them really very safe."
"I guess," said Jean, "I'd better bring over the rocking chair from my
own room, but I'm afraid she'll just have to grin and bear the slats,
because they _will_ fall out in spite of anything I can do."
By seven o'clock the room was invitingly comfortable. The washstand,
which was really only a wooden box thinly disguised by a muslin curtain
gathered across the front and sides, was supplied with a sound basin, a
whole pitcher, numerous towels, and four kinds of soap--the girls had
all thought of soap. They were unable to decide which kind the lodger
would like best, so they laid Bettie's clear amber cake of glycerine
soap, Jean's scentless white castile, Marjory's square of green cucumber
soap, and Mabel's highly perfumed oval pink cake, in a rainbow row on
the washstand.
The bed, bountifully supplied with coverings--had Dandelion Cottage been
suddenly transported to Alaska the lodger would still have had blankets
to spare, so generously had her enthusiastic landladies provided--looked
very comfortable indeed. At half-past seven when the lodger arrived with
apologies for being late because the drayman who was to move her trunk
had been slow, the cottage, for the first time since the girls had
occupied it, was brilliantly lighted.
"We thought," explained Bettie, "that you might feel less frightened in
a strange place if you had plenty of light, though we didn't really mean
to have so many lamps--we each supposed we were bringing the only one.
Anyway, we don't know which one burns best."
"If they should _all_ go out," said Mabel, earnestly, "there are candles
and matches on the little shelf above the bed."
When the lodger had been warned about the loose slats and the
untrustworthiness of the chairs, the girls said good-night.
"You needn't go on _my_ account," said Miss Blossom. "It's pleasant to
have you here--still, I'm not afraid to stay alone. You must always do
just as you like about staying, you know; I shouldn't like to think that
I was driving you out of this dear little house, for it was nice of you
to let me come. I think I was very fortunate in finding a room so near
Mrs. Baker's."
"Thank you," said Jean, "but we always have to be home before dark
unless we have permission to stay any place."
"I _have_ to go," confided Mabel, "because I was so excited that I
forgot to eat my supper."
"So did I," said Marjory, frankly, "and I'm just as hungry as a bear."
"Everybody come home with me," said Jean. "We always have dinner later
than you do and the things can't be _very_ cold."