The Girls Disclose a Plan
"Did you sleep well, Miss Blossom?" asked Bettie, shyly waylaying the
lodger who was on her way to breakfast.
"Ye-es," said Miss Blossom, smiling brightly, "though in spite of your
warning and all my care, the bottom dropped out of my bed and landed the
mattress on the floor. But no harm was done. As soon as I discovered
that I was not falling down an elevator shaft, I went to sleep again. I
think if I had a few nails and some little blocks of wood I could fix
those slats so they'd stay in better; you see they're not quite long
enough for the bed."
"I'll find some for you," said Bettie. "You'll find them on the parlor
table when you get back."
Before the week was over, the girls had discovered that their new friend
was in every way a most delightful person. She proved surprisingly
skillful with hammer and nails, and besides mending the bed she soon had
several of the chairs quite firm on their legs.
"Why," cried Bettie one day as she delightedly inspected an old black
walnut rocker that had always collapsed at the slightest touch, "this
old chair is almost strong enough to _walk_! I'm so glad you've made so
many of them safe, because, when Mrs. Bartholomew Crane comes to see us,
she's always afraid to sit down. She's such a nice neighbor that we'd
like to make her comfortable."
"We do have the loveliest friends," said Jean, with a contented sigh.
"It's hard to tell which is the nicest one."
"But the dearest _two_," exclaimed Marjory, discriminating nicely, "are
Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane--except you, of course, Miss Blossom."
"Somehow," added Bettie, "we always think of those two in one breath,
like Dombey and Son, or Jack and Jill."
"But they couldn't be farther apart _really_," declared Jean. "They're
both nice, both are kind of old, both are dark and rather stout, but
except for that they're altogether different. Mr. Black has everything
in the world that anybody could want, and Mrs. Crane hasn't much of
anything. Mr. Black is invited to banquets and things and rides in
carriages and--"
"Has a silk hat," Mabel broke in.
"And Mrs. Crane," continued Jean, paying no attention to the
interruption, "can't even afford to ride in the street car--I've heard
her say so."
"I wish," groaned generous Mabel, with deep contrition, "that I'd never
taken a cent for that lemonade I sold her last spring. If I'd dreamed
how good and how poor she was, I wouldn't have. She might have had
_four_ rides with that money."
"_I_ wish," said Jean, "we could do something perfectly grand and
beautiful for Mrs. Crane. She's always doing the kindest little things
for other people."
"Well," demanded Marjory, "aren't we going to have her here to dinner,
too, when we have Mr. Black? Please don't tell anybody, Miss
Blossom--it's to be a surprise."
"Still, just a dinner doesn't seem to be enough," said Jean, who, with
her chin in her hand, seemed to be thinking deeply. "Of course it
helps, but I'd rather save her life or do something like that."
"Little things count for a great deal in this world, sometimes," said
Miss Blossom, leaning down to brush her cheek softly against Jean's.
"It's generally wiser to leave the big things until one is big enough to
handle them."
"Mrs. Crane _is_ pretty big," offered matter-of-fact Mabel.
"Oh, dear," laughed Miss Blossom, "that wasn't at all what I meant."
"Mr. Black," said Bettie, dreamily, "has enough _things_, but I don't
believe he really cares about anything in the world but his roses. His
face is different when he talks about them, kind of soft all about the
corners and not so--not so--"
"Daniel Webstery," supplied Jean, understandingly.
"It must be pretty lonely for him without any family," agreed Miss
Blossom. "I don't know what would become of Father if he didn't have me
to keep him cheered up--we're wonderful chums, Father and I."
"Oh", mourned tender-hearted Bettie, "I _wish_ I could make Mrs. Crane
rich enough so she wouldn't need to mend all the time, and that I could
provide Mr. Black with some really truly relatives to love him the way
you love your father."
"Oh, Bettie! Bettie!" cried Mabel, suddenly beginning, in her
excitement, to bounce up and down on the one chair that possessed
springs. "I know exactly how we could help them both. We could beg seven
or eight children from the orphan asylum--they're _glad_ to give 'em
away--and let Mrs. Crane sell 'em to Mr. Black for--for ten dollars
apiece."
Such a storm of merriment followed this simple solution of the problem
that Mabel for the moment looked quite crushed. Her chair, incidentally,
was crushed too, for Mabel's final bounce proved too much for its frail
constitution; its four legs spread suddenly and lowered the surprised
Mabel gently to the floor. Everybody laughed again, Mabel as heartily as
anyone, and, for a time, the sorrows of Mrs. Crane and Mr. Black were
forgotten.
The dinner party, however, still remained uppermost in all their plans.
Mabel was in favor of giving it at once, but the other girls were more
cautious, so the little mistresses of Dandelion Cottage finally decided
to postpone the party until after Miss Blossom had paid her rent in
full.
"You see," explained cautious Marjory, one day when the girls were
alone, "she might get called away suddenly before the three weeks are
up, and if we spent more money than we _have_ it wouldn't be very
comfortable. Besides, I've never seen seven dollars and a half all at
once, and I'd like to."
But the dinner plan was no longer the profound secret that it had been
at first, for when the young housekeepers had told their mothers about
their lodger, they had been obliged to tell them also what they intended
to do with the money. In the excitement of the moment, they had all
neglected to mention Mrs. Crane, but later, when they made good this
omission, their news was received in a most perplexing fashion. The
girls were greatly puzzled, but they did not happen to compare notes
until after something that happened at the dinner party had reminded
them of their parents' incomprehensible behavior.
"Mamma," said Bettie, one evening at supper time, soon after Miss
Blossom's arrival, "I forgot to tell you that we're going to ask Mrs.
Crane, too, when we have Mr. Black to dinner. It's to be a surprise for
both of them."
"What!" gasped Mrs. Tucker, dropping her muffin, and looking not at
Bettie, but at Dr. Tucker. "Surely not Mrs. Crane and Mr. Black, too!
You don't mean both at the same time!"
"Why, yes, Mamma," said Bettie. "It wouldn't cost any more."
Then the little girl looked with astonishment first at her father and
then at her mother, for Dr. Tucker, with a warning finger against his
lips, was shaking his head just as hard as he could at Mrs. Tucker, who
looked the very picture of amazement.
"Why," asked Bettie, "what's the matter? Don't you think it's a good
plan? Isn't it the right thing to do?"
"Yes," said Dr. Tucker, still looking at Bettie's mother, who was
nodding her approval, "I shouldn't be surprised if it might prove a
_very_ good thing to do. Your idea of making it a surprise to both of
them is a good one, too. I should keep it the darkest kind of secret
until the very last moment, if I were you."
"Yes," agreed Mrs. Tucker, "I should certainly keep it a secret."
Jean, too, happened to mention the matter at home and with very much the
same result. Mr. Mapes looked at Mrs. Mapes with something in his eye
that very closely resembled an amused twinkle, and Jean was almost
certain that there was an answering twinkle in her mother's eye.
"What's the joke?" asked Jean.
"I couldn't think of spoiling it by telling," said Mrs. Mapes. "If
there's anything I can do to help you with your dinner party I shall be
delighted to do it."
"Oh, will you?" cried Jean. "When I told you about it last week I
thought, somehow, that you weren't very much interested."
"I'm very much interested indeed," returned Mrs. Mapes. "I hope you'll
be able to keep the surprise part of it a secret to the very last
moment. That's always the best part of a dinner party, you know."
"Yes," said Mr. Mapes, "if you know who the other guests are to be, it
always takes away part of the pleasure."
When Marjory told the news, her Aunty Jane, who seldom smiled and who
usually appeared to care very little about the doings in Dandelion
Cottage, greatly surprised her niece by suddenly displaying as many as
seven upper teeth; she showed, too, such flattering interest in the
coming event that Marjory plucked up courage to ask for potatoes and
other provisions that might prove useful.
"When you've decided what day you're going to have your party," said
Aunty Jane, with astonishing good nature, "I'll give or lend you
anything you want, provided you don't tell either of your guests who the
other one is to be."
When Mabel told about the plan, she too was very much perplexed at the
way her news was received. Her parents, after one speaking glance at
each other, leaned back in their chairs and laughed until the tears
rolled down their cheeks. But they, too, heartily approved of the dinner
party and advised strict secrecy regarding the guests.
School was out, and, as Bettie said, every day was Saturday, but the
days were slipping away altogether too rapidly. The lawn, by this time,
was covered with what Mabel called "real grass," great bunches of Jean's
sweetest purple pansies had to be picked every morning so they wouldn't
go to seed, and the long bed by the fence threatened to burst at any
moment into blossom. Even the much-disturbed vegetable garden was doing
so nicely that it was possible to tell the lettuce from the radish
plants.
Two of Miss Blossom's three weeks had gone. She herself was to leave
town the following Thursday, and the dinner party was to take place the
day after; but even the thought of the great event failed to keep the
little cottagers quite cheerful, for they hated to think of losing their
lovely lodger. Whenever this charming young person was not busy at one
or another of the various churches with her father, she was playing with
the children. "Just exactly," said Bettie, "as if she were just twelve
years old, too." Her clever fingers made dresses for each of the four
biggest dolls, and such cunning baby bonnets for each of the four
littlest ones.
Best of all, she taught the girls how to do a great many things. She
showed them how to turn the narrowest of hems, how to gather a ruffle
neatly, and how to take the tiniest of stitches. Bettie, who had to
help with the weekly darning, and Marjory, who had to mend her own
stockings, actually found it pleasant work after Miss Blossom had shown
them several different ways of weaving the threads.
"I just wish," cried Mabel, one day, in a burst of gratitude, "that
you'd fall ill, or something so we could do something for _you_. You're
just lovely to _us_."
"Thank you, Mabel," said Miss Blossom, with eyes that twinkled
delightedly, "I'm sure you'd take beautiful care of me--I'm almost
tempted to try it. Shall I have measles, or just plain smallpox?"