THE CHILD GARDEN
"As I went up Pippin Hill
Pippin Hill was dirty."
"NO, I will not," said Beatrice decidedly.
"But the children will be so disappointed. They will have their
reports all ready, and there will be almost no one here to hear them.
Neither mother nor father can be present. And the little ones are so
fond of you."
Even this mixture of pathos and diplomacy failed to touch Bea's
flinty heart. "I don't wish to be here," she replied.
"But you said last night you would."
"That was before I knew you were going to invite every Tom, Dick and
Harry in the neighbourhood."
Miss Billy was roused immediately. "I suppose by that you mean Mr.
Francis Lindsay," she said with spirit; "I invited him here on
purpose. I want to be especially nice to him just because you were so
mean and sniffy to him the night of our call. That was my blunder,
and you needn't empty the vials of your wrath on him. He was as
gentlemanly and pleasant as he could be, and did his very best to
make us forget that we were two girls calling upon a boy. Besides, he
is interested in this kind of work--he told me so himself. And the
children all adore him,--and mother said I might."
The speaker paused, breathless.
"It is none of my affair whom you choose to invite to the house,"
said Beatrice coldly. "But I prefer not to see him."
"All right, don't, then," retorted Miss Billy wrathfully. "I'll ask
Marie Jean, instead. She'll be glad to come, I guess. But I don't
understand you at all, Bea. It isn't like you to be so petty and
small."
Beatrice walked away without another word, and Miss Billy marched
defiantly to the Hennesy fence, and vaulted lightly over. It was
wicked of Miss Billy, for she knew that this tomboyish expression of
independence would be most irritating to Beatrice.
Marie Jean Hennesy, sitting with her embroidery on the back porch,
looked amazed at the breathless apparition which appeared over the
fence.
"You're the very one I wanted to see," said Miss Billy. "The Street
Improvement Club is going to meet in our yard this morning, and the
children are going to read reports of what they have accomplished.
I'm sure you'd be interested, and I do wish you'd come and hear them."
Marie Jean was not so enthusiastic. "I don't know," she said
doubtfully. "I was intending to finish this work to-day."
"I do wish you'd come," urged Miss Billy. "There will be no one there
besides the children, except Mr. Lindsay,--the young man staying at
Mr. Schultzsky's. I think you'd enjoy it."
Marie Jean folded her linen slowly. "Maybe I'll come," she decided,
"if I can get my dress changed in time."
"Don't stop to fix up," cautioned Miss Billy. "Come as soon as you
can."
"You'd betther be makin' haste, Mary Jane," called Mrs. Hennesy from
the foot of the stairs ten minutes later. "I seen the children go
trapesing into Miss Billy's a minute ago, an' I guess maybe they're
waitin' on you."
Marie Jean deigned no reply. She tipped her mirror at a more
satisfactory angle, as she applied Mde. Juneau's Bloom of Youth to
her freckled nose, and gave a sigh of satisfaction at the result.
Then she surveyed the vision before her with a pleased smile. A
dream in blue smiled back at her from the glass,--a dream in a
striking costume of brilliant blue foulard, with pointed neck and
elbow sleeves. A faded blue hat was perched sideways upon the heavy
reddish hair, and a pair of long silk mitts in another shade of blue
completed the attire.
Marie Jean pursed up her lips to produce an elongated dimple in one
cheek. "If I could only remember to do that every once in a while!"
she said to herself. From the hush that pervaded the hall below Marie
Jean suspected that her mother, with her nose pressed tightly against
the window pane, was assuring herself as to the condition of affairs
in the next yard. Her suspicions were confirmed by the call that
followed:
"Young Mr. Lindsay has came now, Mary Jane. He's all in white, close,
hat, shoes an' all. Sure ol' man Schultzsky'll be worryin' about his
laundry bills. They're all a sittin' round on the grass with him an'
Miss Billy. You'd best make haste."
This had the desired effect. There was a hurried moving about in
the room upstairs, and two minutes later the daughter of the family
appeared, fluffing her frizzes to their widest extent, and giving a
final hitch to her openwork stockings.
"Whose sun shade is that yer afther carryin'?" asked the mother.
"It's one I borrowed from Lily Corcoran to match my suit," answered
Marie Jean cautiously. "Don't be lettin' the neighbours know about
it, either."
Mrs. Hennesy withered beneath the reproof. "Of course I'll not spake
of it," she said. "It was a slipsy of the tongue, Mary Jane."
Her daughter accepted the apology in the spirit in which it was
given, for her time was too limited for haughtiness. "All right," she
said condescendingly, as she hurried down the walk.
There was a commotion in the Lee yard as the vision in blue appeared
around the corner of the house. Marie Jean in her usual clothes was
not to be lightly regarded, but in this new and startling costume the
effect was electrifying to the spectators. Little Aaron Levi, who
was holding the floor, became suddenly affected with stage fright,
and the small Canarys stared open mouthed. Fridoline alone arose to
the emergency and inquired in a loud and interested tone, "Hallo,
Mary Jane. Where'd you get that hat?"
Miss Billy hurried forward to greet her guest.
"We were afraid you were not coming," she said cordially, "so we went
on with our reports. Won't you sit down." She cast a rueful look at
the gay costume. "I'm afraid you won't dare to sit on the grass with
the rest of us. Let's begin over again, Aaron."
Marie Jean took the garden chair that Francis offered and smiled
sweetly at him, not forgetting to exhibit the elongated dimple;
Miss Billy settled back on the grass; and Aaron Levi took up his
half-finished sentence.
It was the first meeting of the Civic Improvement Department of
the Child Garden. The Street Improvement Club, as they had chosen
to call themselves, had been successfully organised and valiantly
living up to their motto of "Be clean and keep clean." The life of a
missionary is never easy, and Cherry Street had made it particularly
hard for the little band of workers who fought so bravely against the
dirt, disorder and disease in their surroundings. It would have been
hopeless to try to interest the older people, but the children were
all enthusiastic little citizens, and their interest in the work had
won over many of the fathers and mothers who had opposed the idea of
cleanliness as "putting on airs." Already the street had begun to
show improvement, and the reports of the children plainly told under
what difficulties some of the sturdy members had worked.
Aaron Levi, with a long sheet of soiled foolscap, which effectually
concealed a large portion of his anatomy, read the first report in
loud and distinct tones:
"As I belong to the Street Cleaning Club I would like to
tell a thing or more what happened last week. I told Joe
to pick up some paper which was lying in the street. If
he wouldn't pick it up I would. I was just going to see
what he says, so finally, he wasn't going to pick it up,
and he said he wasn't going to pick dirty papers up from
the streets, and that wasn't even all, he also littered the
streets. He also stated that there was not a law passed
forbidding people to throw papers on the street.
"The place where I live, which is not large, there is very
seldom a piece of paper or anything else. Hoping that other
places may be in the same condition. This can be easily
done if people and children help together.
"Yours truly,
"AARON LEVI."
"Very good," said Miss Billy heartily, as Aaron, flushed with emotion
and heat, took his place on the grass. "Aaron, I'm proud of you. If
we all do work of that kind there won't be need for our club always.
Ginevra, have you something to read to us?"
Ginevra twisted her apron about in her small brown hands.
"I didn't write mine," she murmured faintly. "It's only about an
orange peel, anyway."
"Can't you tell us, then?" encouraged Miss Billy.
"There was a man goin' up Cherry Street last night, an' he was eatin'
a orange, an' droppin' the peelin' right on the sidewalk. An' I said
to him 'Mister, please don't drop those on the walk.' And he didn't
pay no attention to me, an' so I walked along behind him an' just
picked them up myself."
Ginevra's patient little story was most touching, and Miss Billy and
Francis exchanged quick glances of sympathy. Marie Jean settled the
folds of her gown, and smiled. "How perfectly lovely," she remarked
to no one in particular.
"Isn't it interesting?" asked Miss Billy proudly. "Frank Murphy, you
come next. What have you done?"
Frank's report was brief and to the point. "There was a dead rat out
in the street. It was big and smelt awful. I poked it with a stick,
but it was so smelly I couldn't take it in my hands. So I brought the
cat out and she et it up."
The fastidious sense of Marie Jean was much offended by the story,
but she bravely accepted the custom of the Romans, and only indicated
her disgust by a slight elevation of the nose, as Frank's successor
was announced, and Launcelot, in a high state of excitement and a
huge red necktie, took the floor.
"Our slop barrel was running over. And ma wanted to give some of it
to Hennesy's chickens, and I wouldn't let her because it ud make
Hennesy's yard look worse than ever. And she said it was the slop
collector's fault and that Cherry Street was always neglekted. And I
said I'll see to it. And I went to see the slop gentleman at the city
hall and told him about the slop running over, and the germs that
were just flying round loose inside, and I spoke fierce and he said
he'd 'tend to it. And I said he'd better and he said he would and he
did. An' we've smelled nice ever since.
"And Johanna who lives with old man Schultzsky threw tin cans into
the street, and we kids waited till night an' then stuck them all
along on the pickets to his fence, an' she don't do it any more. An'
I asked ma not to wash me and Mike in the same water, and she said
all right if I'd carry in fresh water and I did.
"An' there was a grocery boy dropped a egg on our walk, and I made
him clean it up.
"An' I got two kids to sign our pledge, and they'll come to every
meetin' where there's going to be grub."
Launcelot's recital was followed by a chorus of admiration. Francis'
face was hidden, but his shaking shoulders showed his emotion, and
Miss Billy's eyes danced as she patted the small workman upon the
shoulder, exclaiming, "Bravo, Launcelot! You're our Master Constable."
"Now me," begged little Mike.
"Are even the babes in arms mustered into service?" asked Francis.
"To be sure they are," responded the hostess. "Mike is one of our
best workers. Tell us about it, dear."
"A boy camed and shaked our new 'ittle twee. An' I said 'No, no,
boy,' and he wunned away. And Fwiddie helped me make a fence wound
it," lisped the little lad.
Even Marie Jean was delighted with the childish recital, and she
joined enthusiastically in the applause which followed. Little Mike
buried his face in his sister's lap, and only glanced out shyly when
Friddie began his report.
"I'm using my ecspress wagon to clean up the streets with," he began.
"I go out early every morning, and Aaron Levi helps me. We pick up
all the trash in the street an' pile it in my wagon, and sometimes
there's two loads of it. We sell it to Mr. Hennesy for fillin' holes
with. He gives us a cent a load. We bought nine cents worth of taffy
on a stick last week, an' we're goin' to save up to buy a patrol
wagon."
One by one the other reports followed. Lena Engel had burned a pile
of rubbish in the alley; Moses Levi had gathered all the old rags on
the street and sold them to the ragman; Mary O'Shea had planted grass
seed in her yard; Pius Coffee had cut down "eight stacks of weeds";
the little Moriaritys had "filled up a sink hole" on their premises;
Jacob Kohn had stopped putting ashes in the street; and two of the
larger boys had placed a box on the corner, for the disposal of
rubbish. Even the tiniest children had their small stories to tell,
and Miss Billy glowed with pride as the last member of the Street
Cleaning Brigade was heard from.
"Isn't that splendid?" she said, with face aglow, as she turned to
her two older guests. "Just think what it will mean to Cherry Street
to have citizens of this kind growing up on it!"
Francis had risen from his place on the grass, and was facing the
small audience. "May I give my report?" he asked, his brown eyes
twinkling mischievously through his sedate glasses.
Miss Billy's pleased face was consent enough.
"You all know how long I have lived on Cherry Street," began Francis;
"just long enough to be greatly interested in your work, and yet
not long enough to accomplish much. During that time I have had two
sidewalks repaired, a new one laid, and some curbing reset. I have
taken down three fences. I have cleared my uncle's yard of weeds,
and we are beginning repairs on his house. I don't know what one's
qualifications must be to belong to your club, but I should like to
join,--here and now."
The members of the Street Improvement Club cheered with enthusiasm
at this delightful addition to their number. But there was a greater
surprise in store for them.
"And so would I," said Marie Jean unexpectedly.
Whether it was Francis' example, or the reports of the little ones,
that had inspired the action, it would be hard to say; but the cause
of Marie Jean's conversion was not inquired.
The pledge was brought out, and amid vociferous applause the names of
Marie Jean Hennesy and Francis Wilde Lindsay were added to the roll.
"The feast of reason and the flow of soul has come to an end,"
announced Miss Billy, as she collected the written reports, and laid
them in a neat pile on the grass. "But our mundane bodies are yet to
be fed. On yonder porch there sits a jug, and in the jug there is
some beer--only root, however. Launcelot, if I pour the drink which
cheers but not inebriates, will you pass the cakes?"
"Yes-um," replied the boy with alacrity.
Marie Jean's face was expressive of a little disappointment as
Francis rose from the grass and followed Miss Billy and Launcelot to
the porch.
"I wonder if I can help her," she said to Ginevra.
Ginevra's unchildish eyes turned upon the speaker. "She don't need no
help," she said slowly. "Mr. Francis needn't 'a' gone. He just went
'cause he likes her company-ship."
The children had finished their root beer, and noisily rounded the
corner of the house; and Marie Jean had reluctantly departed with
repeated assurances of her aid in the future, when Miss Billy and
Francis sat down in the deserted yard.
"It has been a great success," he said. "I cannot thank you enough
for permitting me to enjoy the morning with you. It's a fine work,
Miss Lee."
The girl looked up brightly. "It was interesting," she admitted. "The
little ones have worked so faithfully and well. I am proud of them
all. But there is so much yet to accomplish. I think Cherry Street
has been effectually aroused, and we can depend on the children to
keep it awake. But it will take so much money to do what we wish,
and our hands are practically empty."
Francis was silent for a few moments. "Are there no ways of raising
money?" he said finally. "Seems to me there's energy enough in this
club to earn some."
"We're going to do that," said Miss Billy. "We are planning a lawn
fête now. The mothers are all going to help us, and the children have
been working like Trojans. It will be held in our yard, and we shall
demand your attendance, and maybe your services. Everybody on the
street will be roped in to help. Of course we will raise some money
in this way, but there are so many things to spend it for. It won't
go half way round."
Francis pondered.
"Why don't you try for the Hanson prize?" he asked finally.
"What _is_ the Hanson prize?"
"Why, haven't you heard? The papers are full of it to-day. Peter
Hanson, the New York florist, offers a prize of one hundred dollars
to be voted to improvements on any city street which makes the
greatest change for the better during this year. The money is to
be awarded about December 25, and the judges are to decide from
photographs,--the 'before and after taking' style, you know."
Miss Billy's eyes sparkled.
"I wish we could," she exclaimed.
"Well, why can't you? Look what fine work you've done in short time.
Think what you can accomplish in almost four months. You won't have
to do much to make a great improvement here, for every little thing
will show. I'll bring out my camera, and we'll take our first picture
to-morrow morning. Then we'll go to work together."
"Will you help me?" asked Miss Billy delightedly.
"To be sure I will. Am I not the agent on Cherry Street, and will
not every improvement benefit my uncle's property? It's all a matter
of business, you see. You'll let me help you, won't you?" He held
out his hand questioningly. The brown eyes looked into the grey
ones steadily and earnestly. Miss Billy put her hand into his with a
grateful look that spoke volumes.
"I shall be glad of help," she said simply.