MR SILVER THIMBLE AND MR EMERY BAG
“GRANDMA,” asked Mary Frances, the next afternoon, “may I have this
little piece of white lawn?”
[Illustration: “May I have this little piece of lawn?”]
“Why, certainly, dear,” said Grandma. “You are such a good child. I
am sure I never saw a little girl who was so able to amuse herself.”
“My, I wish I could explain about my little friends,” thought Mary
Frances, but she answered, “I don’t get very lonely when you are
away, Nanny dear, because I keep busy; and when you are here, we have
such fun together!”
“Heigho!” exclaimed Grandma, “I feel really young again!”
[Illustration: “Why, certainly, dear.”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: “I wonder if I could give her lessons”]
“Go to sleep! go to sleep!
Baby dear, baby dear, mine.
To and fro, I rock thee deep,
My arms a cradle for thy sleep;
Close your eyes, and don’t you peep,
Baby dear, baby dear, mine.
“I rock thee deep, but hold thee near,
Baby dear, Baby dear, mine.
Nothing can harm thee, never fear!
Mother-love is so very queer,
Nothing can make thee but my dear
Baby―baby mine,”
sang Mary Frances, rocking Angie in her arms.
“My, I’m glad I got that child to sleep before my sewing lesson,” she
said.
“I hope she’ll be quiet all through the afternoon. Every once in a
while I’ve had to take her over to Lottie’s to stay. I’ve put myself
under ob-li-ga-tion to Lottie, and I’ll have to make something for
one of her children―oh, I wonder if I could give her some sewing
lessons, the way I did Eleanor cooking lessons.
“How I wish Eleanor were here! I do miss her so!
[Illustration: “Baby―baby, mine”]
“I’ll tip-toe in to my lesson with this child in my arms, and put
her carefully in the big rocking chair, so as to have her near
if she cries. Of course, I’m only pretending she’s a tiny young
thing―because I didn’t bring my baby infant doll with me, and
this is only Angie. She’s really almost three years old; but my,
she certainly does love to be ‛babied’―and I’d certainly get very
lonesome if I didn’t do it―with Mother and Father so far away―and
Billy in camp!”
[Illustration: The big tears rolled down]
The big tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Come, Mary Frances,” she said. “I feel like shaking you. When you
promised Father so faithfully to be a woman, and your Grandma is such
a darling!―Suppose you read Mother’s last letter over:
_Dear Little Big Mary Frances_:
_Only twenty times has Mother read over your sweet letter. It was
so dear, and brave. I am much better than I was―thanks to such a
loving family―and the lovely “aps-mos-spere” here, as you used
to say when you were little._
_What a beautiful country this is―your “Fatherland” and mine. I
want you to see some day the lovely view I am now looking upon:
mountains rising high and peeping over this lovely stretch of
country to look into the Pacific Ocean, which sparkles like that
ir-i-des-cent feather in your dear Grandma’s bonnet._
[Illustration: Read Mother’s last letter]
_Father is calling me to come for a ride, and I must drop a line to
my Billy Boy―who is a good Scout, too._
_Can you feel this kiss and this hug? I know you can―for what are
miles to us whose love for each other flies through space?_
_Your loving Mother._
_P.S.―Thank you so much for the picture of Jubey._
[Illustration: With Angie asleep in her arms]
“My, I feel better,” said Mary Frances, drying her tears. “But if it
weren’t for my sewing lessons, even with Grandma’s help, I’d not be
a Scout. Billy is a good Scout:―but now,―for the lesson,” and she
went to the sewing-room very softly, with Angie asleep in her arms.
“Hee-ha!” she heard through the door, which was a very tiny way open,
“that’s the time!”
She thought it was the voice of Silver Thimble.
“I don’t care,” answered a new voice. “It’s too much, to have to
clean them all at once.”
“Oh, there are only two more. Come, I’m ready―it is really excellent
practice for a soldier!”
[Illustration: “It is really excellent practice”]
“Take ’em out, take ’em out, I say!”
[Illustration: “No in-sub-or-din-a-tion!”]
Mary Frances feared to make a noise―but she quietly pushed the door
open a little wider and saw Silver Thimble on one side of the table,
and over on the opposite side, the queerest little fellow.
“Looks like the picture of a porcupine,” thought Mary Frances.
“It may be good practice for a soldier,” groaned the queer little
figure, “but pity the target! Besides,―one at a time, please!”
“Emery Bag, what do you think you were made for? I hope you realize
it’s your duty to clean all the rust and roughness off these
needles as I run them through you, so that the little Miss may sew
more easily,” lectured Thimble. “No in-sub-or-din-a-tion! Stop and
think! You know my family’s power,―you know my family’s wealth. You
realize, I hope, you live in a land named for my aris-to-crat-ic
ancestors―Thimble Land!”
“Oh, ancestors go-to-China!” exclaimed Emery Bag. “We live in the
present, and I demand―I demand justice. I leave it to anybody if
it’s fair to have twenty needles stuck into your heart at once!”
[Illustration: “Take ’em out, I say!”]
“The idea of being such a coward!” retorted Thimble. “Where’s your
heart of steel you brag of so often?”
[Illustration: “Fatty!”]
“It’s scarcely fair, you know,” came a new voice. “You see, twenty
needles at once are really more than are needed.”
“Humph, Tommy Pin Cushion,” answered Silver Thimble. “What you
sticking your ’pinion in for? It’s a wonder Sewing Bird hasn’t stuck
her bill in! Tommy Pin Cushion, you might just as well keep out of
this―everybody knows you’re stuck on yourself―Fatty!”
“You conceited old Silver Thimble,” came the voice of Pin Cushion.
“You will please address me by my full name―‘Tomato-Pin-Cushion,
Custodian-of-the-Sword-Needles’;―and what’s more, if you don’t
quickly remove all those needles from poor Emery, you won’t get any
more sword-needles to wield. So there! You know Sewing Bird’s taking
forty winks; that’s why you don’t act in your best military manner.”
Silver Thimble looked toward Sewing Bird, whose eyes began to open,
and quickly went toward Emery Bag. Taking out the needles, one at a
time, he ran to Pin Cushion and quilted each into its place.
[Illustration: “You conceited old Silver Thimble.”]
“There!” he exclaimed at length, “I’m certainly glad I’ve ‘stacked
all my arms’―my, I’m tired!” As he leaned back to yawn, off fell his
helmet and he melted away.
“Serves him right,” murmured Emery Bag; “I hope Fairy Lady won’t
ask him to the sewing party to-day,―she really arranges all these
lessons.”
“Don’t fear! Don’t fear!
Mr. Emery Bag;
You’ve got Silv Thimble’s
Very last tag,”
sang Sewing Bird.
“Good!” thought Mary Frances. “Now, I’ll go in.”
[Illustration: “My, I’m glad I got that child to sleep”]
[Illustration: CHAPTER XII]