_THE TEA-PARTY._
THREE o'clock on Thursday afternoon found all Miss Ackerman's class
assembled in her mother's beautiful drawing-room, opening with a wide,
long window on the veranda and commanding such a fine view of the
river. All the girls were present, even to North Flynn. Mrs. Barnard
had not only spared her, but she had given her a pretty dark-blue frock
trimmed at the wrists and neck with white ruffles, that North might
not feel awkwardly at being more poorly dressed than her classmates.
Norah was a pretty girl, in the finest style of Irish prettiness, with
black curling hair, long black lashes, very dark gray-blue eyes, and a
clear, fine-grained skin. And as she came in bright and sparkling with
pleasure, and shook hands with Mrs. and Miss Ackerman, Julia could not
but allow that Norah looked and behaved as much like a lady as any girl
in the room.
"How pretty she looks!" whispered Ida, thinking with a little regret of
her own freckles.
"Pretty enough!" answered Julia with a toss of her head. "I suppose
Mrs. Barnard has given her one of Jenny's old dresses."
"'Deed, then, you're mistaken, then, for 'tis a brand-new dress it is,
that Mrs. Barnard bought for me in the city with her own hands, and
Bessy Melville made it. So there, Miss Julia!" laughed Norah, her eyes
dancing with mischief and looking prettier than ever.
Julia bit her lip with anger.
"But if it had been Jenny's old dress made-over, I am sure Norah would
not have minded wearing it," said Ida. "I'm sure I wear made-over
dresses lots of times."
"Not I," answered Norah. "I'd be proud to wear anything that Miss Jenny
had touched, let alone worn; but I can never get the chance. As soon
as she has done with her dresses, she rips them up and cleans them,
and lays them away smooth and nice to send to some poor lady she knows
that has a hantle of little ones. Many's the time I've helped her with
them. Oh, 'tis just an angel she is, too good for this world; and I'm
thinking she won't be here long." And a tear glittered in Norah's
bright eyes.
"I hope dear Miss Jenny may be spared to us many years yet," said Miss
Ackerman kindly; "but you know, Norah, that our loss would be a great
gain to her. She would change her cross for a crown of glory."
"And that's true, Miss, but I'm that selfish I can't feel to spare her
yet." And Norah's ready tears overflowed.
"You are my dear girl," said Miss Ackerman, kissing her, "but don't
borrow trouble. Miss Jenny may outlive us all yet."
"What a fuss they do make over her!" thought Julia. "I think Mrs.
Barnard might at least have made her wear an apron."
"Well, are we all assembled?" asked Miss Ackerman, looking round:
"Where is Eunice Riker? Oh, here she comes."
Eunice was the most plainly, not to say poorly, dressed of all the
girls. Her brown linen suit had faded and shrunk, as linen suits
will in time, even with the most careful washing, and her frills
had evidently been done up a great many times. She was not at all a
handsome girl, either; her features were too large and old for her
years, and her complexion was not very good. But her eyes were bright
and clear, and her somewhat large mouth firm and good-tempered; and
people who noticed her said, "That girl will make a fine-looking woman
by and by." She excused herself for being late with straightforward
directness.
"Mother had just finished doing up some white frocks for Mrs. Edgar's
little girls, and she was so tired I went to take them home for her;
and then Mrs. Edgar kept me waiting a little while."
"Oh, how stupid I was!" exclaimed Mary Edgar, who was a member of the
class. "Sister told me to stop and say that she would call for the
things this evening; and I forgot it. What a shame it was, to make you
take all that long walk for nothing! Sister will scold me, and serve me
right."
"Oh, it wasn't any matter," answered Eunice, smiling brightly. "I liked
the walk, and your sister lent me two nice books."
"Well, you are good-natured!" said Mary. "If any one had served me so,
I should be just hopping."
"Eunice does not get 'hopping,' as you call it so easily as some of
us, I fancy," remarked Miss Ackerman.—"But now we are all here, girls,
we will proceed to business.—Percy, are you and Amity ready with your
budget?"
"Yes, Cousin Margaret," answered a voice from the inner room; and
presently Percy Denham and Amity Bogardus appeared, carrying a large
work-basket between them.
Those of my young friends who have read the "Round Spring" books will
remember Percy Denham. She was the orphan daughter of an army officer,
and since her parent's death, she had made her home partly with her
aunt, Miss Devine, who lived at Bridgeport, and partly with her other
aunt, Mrs. Ackerman, a very rich widow lady who had a fine house in
New York and another at Rockdale. But now Miss Devine was dead, and
Percy had come to live altogether with Mrs. Ackerman. Her health was
rather delicate, and she was a good deal worn with taking care of her
aunt. And Mrs. Ackerman, who loved the country at all seasons much
better than the city, had made Percy's health an excuse for letting her
town-house and establishing herself permanently at Rockdale. Percy had
shot up into a tall, handsome young lady, as slender and graceful as a
weeping birch, with dusky velvety hair and a clear olive skin—a great
contrast to Amity, with her straw-colored hair and freckles, and no
figure at all.
"Well, young ladies, we are ready to hear what you have to say," said
Miss Margaret.
"Will you make the speech, Percy, or shall I?" asked Amity.
"Oh, you make it; I haven't any gift at all in that line."
"Well, then, the matter is this," said Amity. "You all know that the
ladies of the church are preparing to send a box to the family of the
Rev. Mr. Swift, a missionary among both Indians and white people in
Dakota Territory. Mr. Swift has a wife, and five children of various
ages, from a young lady sixteen years old down to a baby of six months.
One of his daughters, about twelve years old, has received the present
of a scholarship in a good school for young ladies. But she has no
clothes—none, at least, suitable for such a place—and the young ladies'
Bible-class propose to furnish her with a wardrobe. Our class will
provide the materials, and we thought, as Cousin Margaret's class came
next in rank, we would ask them to help us with the sewing. Percy, Emma
Andrews, and myself have been appointed a committee to prepare the work
and to distribute it, as well as to consult with your class on the
subject. We have done the first, and are now ready to do the second.
There! I have made my speech; I hope I have explained the matter
decently."
"Mr. Webster could not have spoken more to the purpose," answered Miss
Margaret; "only you have left one point unexplained. Where is Emma?"
"Mrs. Andrews has a sick headache, and Emma could not leave her. If
there are any more questions, I shall be happy to answer them to the
best of my ability."
"What is the little girl's name?" asked Ida.
"Her name is Ethelind Swift," replied Amity—"Ethelind Amelia Swift, to
give it in full."
"What a fine name!" said Julia, sneering as usual.
"Well, names are a cheap luxury, you know. I dare say she was named
after some one."
"What clothes does she need?" asked Eunice, business-like as usual.
"Everything, I should say. Mrs. Swift says in her letter:
"'My husband has been serving two parishes, besides looking after his
Indians, on a salary of less than five hundred dollars a year. We have
had a great deal of sickness, and I am stating a simple truth when I
say that I have not bought one yard of new cotton or flannel in six
years. I had to cut up the flannel sheets my mother gave me when I
was married to make undershirts for my husband and a petticoat for
myself.'" *
* This is no exaggeration: I wish it were.
"What a perfect shame!" said Mary Edgar. "Why doesn't the Board pay
them better, so that they can have decent clothes?"
"Because the Board has not the money, my dear. The Board, you must
remember, is not a perennial spring. It is a cistern which can only
give out what is put into it."
"Well, I say it is a shame, anyhow. Only last week I coaxed papa into
buying me one of those twelve-dollar dolls, and a trunk for her that
cost four more."
"How silly of you!" remarked Jane Williams, who had not spoken before.
"A great girl like you giving such a price for a doll! You might have
got a lovely seal-ring for the money."
"And what good would that do when aunt would not let me wear it? I love
dolls, and I don't see why they are any sillier than rings and such
things; do you, Miss Margaret?"
"We won't discuss that deep question just now, my dear. Let us hear
what more our committee have to tell us.—What is your plan, young
ladies?"
"Now it is your turn, Percy."
"Our plan is this," said Percy, taking from the basket two neat bundles
of cotton cloths and holding up one in each hand. "We have cut out and
prepared from four to six articles of each kind, and pinned up each
article in a parcel by itself. We propose that you shall each take one
or more of these articles, make it as well as possible, and return it
to us. When all are received, we will have them done up and marked
with the young lady's name. They must be finished by the twenty-fifth
of October, as we wish the box to reach Mr. Swift's family before cold
weather comes."
"But isn't your class going to do any of the work except to cut it and
give it out?" asked Julia. "I should think that was getting off pretty
easily, for my part."
"In the first place, our class contributed the money," replied
Percy, quite unruffled by Julia's tone, which was sufficiently rude.
"Secondly, we have undertaken all the dresses and outside garments
generally; and, thirdly, if you think, Julia, that it is 'getting off
easily' to cut out and fit thirty garments, contriving to make the very
most of the cloth, and then tie up every garment in a bundle by itself,
with all the pieces belonging to it, why then you had better try it,
that's all," said Percy, finishing up her speech with a sudden emphasis
which set the girls laughing.
"I should think as much," said Eunice. "Mother often says cutting out
is the hardest work she does."
"Who asked your opinion, I wonder?" muttered Julia.
"And the dresses will be harder to make than anything," said Ida,
always ready to give credit to other people.
"How silly you are, Ida! Of course they won't make them themselves."
"I think we shall, at least a good deal of them," said Amity. "Aunt
Julia says we may have Bessy Melville for a day or two if we need her.
She will cut out the things, and we shall sew with her. That is Aunt
Julia's contribution."
"I am sure it is a very nice one," observed Eunice; "and it will help
Bessy too."
"Exactly so.—Now, who will take a bundle or two?"
"I will," said Julia; "I can get mine done, I know."
"Very well; here is a night-gown. The pieces are all fitted, and your
mother will help you, I dare say, if you are in any trouble.—Who comes
next?"
"I do," answered Ida.
But she had hardly spoken when Julia exclaimed, "Well I shouldn't think
you would want to, Ida. You will never get it done in time. How many
pieces of work have you begun already?"
Ida colored scarlet, and the tears stood in her eyes.
"You should not speak in that way to your cousin, Julia," said Miss
Ackerman gravely. "That is very unkind."
"It is nothing but the truth, anyway," persisted Julia. "I heard her
mother tell her the same thing this very morning; and she has ever so
many pieces in hand. There is her lace and—"
"We will dispense with the catalogue," said Miss Margaret. "What you
say may be true, but the truth should be spoken in love. When it is
used to hurt and mortify a companion, it is not acceptable either
to heaven or earth. Besides, you are in no way responsible for your
cousin.—Don't cry, Ida, my dear."
"Well, I won't," said Ida, fighting bravely with her sobs. "I know that
I am not very persevering, and that I do begin things and leave them
unfinished; but I mean to try and do better."
"'Better' is 'he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city,'"
said Percy. "Here is a chemise for you. Now show that you can persevere
and finish a thing as well as any one."
"I will try," said Ida; and she meant what she said.
One after another the girls came forward and took their parcels, till
all were provided with work except Norah and Eunice.
"I'd like to take a bundle, but I think I had better ask Mrs. Barnard
first," said Norah. "She pays for my time, you see, and so I can't give
it away without asking her."
"Very right Norah. You can ask Mrs. Barnard, and if she makes no
objection, you can come up to our house and I will give you something."
"I am afraid I can't take any sewing to do just now," said Eunice, her
pale cheek flushing scarlet as she spoke. "You know mother takes in
sewing, and I have to help her. But I will wash and iron some of the
things when they are made, if that will be any help."
"Indeed it will," said Amity. "We all know how beautifully you and your
mother do up clothes."
"And I have been thinking of another thing," continued Eunice modestly.
"I don't sew in the evening, because the doctor says it is bad for my
eyes; but I can knit very fast, and if I had some nice yarn, I would
knit some stockings for Ethelind."
"Capital, Eunice!" exclaimed Amity. "I don't believe any one has
thought of stockings; I'm sure I didn't. If we can raise some more
money, you shall have the yarn."
"I will see to that," said Mrs. Ackerman, a sweet little old lady who
had been a silent but interested looker-on.—"Percy dear, will you ask
Drusilla for my knitting-basket?"
The basket was brought, and Mrs. Ackerman produced three large skeins
of beautiful crimson yarn.
"I got this to knit for some of the orphans," said she, "but I can
easily buy more when I am ready; and this is just the thing to knit for
your little girl. When it is used up, come to me and I will provide
some more."
"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Ackerman; how kind you are!" said Eunice, feeling
far more grateful than if the yarn had been given to herself. It had
cost her a great deal to refuse the sewing, and now here was work
provided to her hand. "And if there should be any yarn left, I might
make some socks for the baby."
"Very true," said Miss Margaret. "And now that every one is provided
with work, let all the bundles be put away, and let us improve this
beautiful afternoon by a walk in the garden."
The afternoon passed away pleasantly. The girls rambled about the
extensive grounds, looked at the pictures and other beautiful and
curious things with which the house was filled, and played various
games.
Ida had quite gotten over her annoyance at Julia's unkind remark. She
had made a fine resolution to finish her sewing in good time, and she
was (unluckily for herself) one of those people whose consciences
are quite satisfied for the time being with making resolutions. She
was naturally kind-hearted, and was very well-bred besides; and this
afternoon she devoted herself specially to those of the girls who had
lately joined the class or who, from seldom meeting their classmates
except in Sunday-school, were almost strangers to each other. She was
particularly attentive to Eunice Riker, whom she had long known and
liked, and to Matilda Jenkins, whose mother had but lately come to
Rockdale, and who knew hardly anybody.
Eunice responded cordially and pleasantly, as she always did. She had
very little self-consciousness, and therefore was neither shy nor
awkward. Matilda, on the contrary, was very still and silent, and could
not be got to say anything but "yes" and "no."
Julia did not enjoy herself at all. She was vexed at Ida for not
being angry—at Miss Ackerman for taking her part, and for taking
so much notice of "that little Irish girl," Norah Flynn, and "that
washerwoman's daughter," Eunice Riker, while she, Julia Hazleton, was
treated "just as if she were nobody." She was all the more unhappy
because she really did love Miss Ackerman very much. The trouble was,
she did not want Miss Ackerman to love any one else. She could have
endured it better, she thought, if Miss Ackerman's favorite had been
Mary Edgar or Anita Ferarra, but to be set aside for Eunice Riker! It
was too bad! The truth was, that Miss Ackerman made no favorites. She
aimed to treat all her class exactly alike. She liked Julia for her
perseverance and industry, and tried to love her as well as she did Ida
Van Zandt or Norah Flynn; but I fear she was not very lovable.
On the whole, Miss Ackerman's little party was successful. There will
always be some people dissatisfied, however, take as much pains as one
will.
"Well, what kind of a time did you have?" asked Mrs. Jenkins of Matilda
when she came home.
"Oh, just as I expected. Of course all those rich girls felt above me,
just as I knew they would. That Ida Van Zandt and two or three others
tried to patronize me, but I soon let them know I wasn't going to have
that, and that I felt myself as good as any of them, if I did live in a
small house."
"That's right," said her mother; "hold up your head, and don't lay
yourself down for folks to walk over you."
"Some folks do, though," remarked Matilda. "There is that Eunice Riker.
She had on an old faded linen dress and looked like a scarecrow, but
all the girls took notice of her, and she took it as sweet as honey."
"She knows what she is about," said Mrs. Jenkins. "I dare say she gets
plenty out of those Ackermans."
"Oh, mother, I have had such a lovely time!" was Eunice's comment.
"Every one was so kind and polite to me! I do think almost all our
girls are just as sweet as they can be. I am going to knit some
stockings for my share of the box, and Miss Percy Denham says she will
lend me her knitting-book with all sorts of pretty stitches."
"What box?" asked her mother, smiling. "You are beginning your story in
the middle, as usual."
"Oh, I forgot you did not know about it." And Eunice gave an account of
Mrs. Swift and her needs, and displayed her red yarn. "Wasn't it kind
in Mrs. Ackerman, mother?"
"Very kind and thoughtful indeed, and I am glad you have such pretty
knitting."
"I am rather sorry you gave those chemises to Ida Van Zandt," said
Amity to Percy as they were looking over the list of work given out
after the girls had gone. "I am afraid she will never have them done in
time."
"Why, is she that sort of girl?"
"Just exactly 'that sort of girl.'"
"Well, I thought her very sweet and lovely."
"So she is," answered Amity warmly; "I never saw a lovelier
disposition. How gently she answered when Julia made that attack on
her! But she has a way of beginning a great many things and never
finishing any of them."
"We must try to keep her up to the mark," said Percy. "I dare say we
shall have a good many pieces to finish up. I wish we had set the
middle instead of the last of October for the work to be brought in."
"So do I, but it cannot be helped now. I will try to keep an eye on
Ida's work myself. She is a kind of cousin of mine, you know."
"What name is this, Amity?"
"Matilda Jenkins. They are new-comers in the place, and I don't know
much about them. The poor girl seemed very shy and awkward, but I dare
say she will appear better when she becomes better acquainted."