THE PINCUSHION MANUFACTORY.
[Illustration: Decorative A]
[Illustration: THEY FOUND A NOOK ... TO EAT THEIR DINNER IN.]
fter a while the three children had had enough of climbing and
scrambling about, besides which they began to feel hungry. They found a
nook which, as Philippa said, 'seemed made on purpose to eat their
dinner in,' and there they comfortably established themselves for that
purpose.
Dinner over, Kathleen reminded Philippa of her dream.
'Oh yes,' said the little girl, 'it really was a very funny one. I
thought I was at school, and Miss Fraser was calling to Kathie and me to
be quick, and just as we ran out of the room--which had turned into
Kathie's room at Ty-gwyn, only that there were seats all round like a
railway-carriage, and the door was like a railway-carriage
door--Kathie's frock tore, and she called to me for a pin. I put my hand
into my pocket to feel for my little pincushion, which I always keep
there, and my pocket was all full of some sort of stuff like--like'--
'Like feathers,' said Kathie; 'it was my telling you about the
pillows.'
'No,' Philippa went on, 'it wasn't like feathers--it was more powdery.'
'Like dried rose-leaves?' again suggested Kathie. 'What aunty calls
"pot-pourri." We were talking of the scent of it last night.'
'Oh, Kathie, do be quiet!' said Neville. 'You can't always explain
dreams like that--indeed, you very seldom can.'
'Bits of them you very often can,' Kathleen maintained.
'But it wasn't dried rose-leaves either,' said Philippa. 'I remember the
feeling of it in my fingers. If I remember afterwards what it was like,
I'll tell you. Well, I pulled my hand out again, and I found I was
holding something--not my pincushion. The thing was a little book, only
it wasn't made of paper, but of lovely bits of silk, all fastened
together, for the leaves. And the funniest thing was that though they
were of all sorts of patterns and colours, there seemed to be words on
them all, which you could read through the patterns somehow. I fancied
that the words on the first page were, "For dear mamma, from her loving
Philippa;" and immediately I called out, "Oh, Kathie, see! it's a
present for me to send to mamma, only I haven't made it myself." Still I
went on turning the leaves. I can't remember any of the words on them
till I came to the last, and on it I read, "Look in the----" and then it
seemed all a muddle, only I knew it meant the place where the will was.
I tried and tried to read it, but I couldn't; and then I called to
Kathie to try, and I suppose I must have really made a little squeak in
my sleep, for just as I thought I was calling her very loud, I woke.'
'And all the time I was waiting for the pin,' said Kathleen. 'Well, yes,
it was a very queer dream, though I could explain a good deal of it. You
see, you'--
But Neville put his fingers in his ears.
'We don't want it explained,' he said. 'It's much more interesting to
fancy what it could mean--like--like the dreams in the Bible, you know.'
'You're very irreverent, Neville,' said Kathie.
'I'm not,' said Neville. 'Dreams do come sometimes that mean things.'
'But I _can't_ think what the stuff in my pocket could be,' said
Philippa; and neither of the others could help her to an idea.
'I think,' said Neville, 'we'd better be going on to old Davis's. It's
about twenty minutes' walk from here.'
'Very well,' said the little girls; and they set off, Philippa declaring
that she was now 'quite, quite rested.'
They were heartily welcomed at Dol-bach. Mr. Davis introduced his wife,
who was as pleasant-looking for an old woman as he for an old man. He
had been 'hoping they'd look in some of these days,' he said; and Mrs.
Davis had evidently heard all about them, though she, and Mr. Davis too
for that matter, looked puzzled as to where Philippa had come from. They
were very much interested to hear all about her, and congratulated her
on having had a pleasanter ending to her journey than had fallen to the
share of her friends.
'It didn't seem so far a way from Hafod to Ty-gwyn yesterday as in the
carrier's cart, did it, sir?' said Davis to Neville. 'But the road's a
deal better than in my young days; and Mrs. Wynne, she's many a time
told us how her mother--the Captain's great-aunt she'd be--never went to
Hafod but once a year, and thought a long time about it before she did
that. She was a clever lady too--you'll have seen the chairs she
worked--wasn't it chairs?' he added, turning to his wife.
'Yes, indeed,' she said. 'Your aunty's not showed them to you? Ah, well,
she must feel it hard, things being as they are. But our lady,--that's
what we call Mrs. Wynne,--she was handy with her fingers too. I can show
you the present she brought me last Christmas as ever was.'
'Oh, yes!' Kathie exclaimed. 'The pincushion! Mr. Davis told us of it.'
It was duly fetched and exhibited. It was rather a new-fashioned kind of
pincushion, being one of those made out of a small cigar-box, which
served for box and pincushion at once. It was most neatly made, covered
with rich and uncommon-looking brocaded satin, which Mrs. Davis eyed
with great approval, and edged with a narrow frill of old thread lace.
[Illustration]
'Such a useful shape, too,' said Mrs. Davis; 'I'd never seen one like it
before, but Mrs. Wynne told me she'd covered a many. The old silk was a
piece of a gown of her mother's. I believe there's some fine things of
the old lady's still at Ty-gwyn.'
'Yes, aunty has some lovely pieces; she's promised to show us them,'
said Kathie. 'Perhaps she'll give us some, Phil.'
Philippa looked up eagerly at this. She had been examining the
pincushion with the greatest attention.
'Do you think she would perhaps, really?' she asked, when they were on
their way home, having promised Mr. and Mrs. Davis to come to see them
again some day soon.
'I daresay she would,' said Kathleen. 'Why are you in such a fuss about
it, Phil?'
'Oh, because--because,' said the little girl, 'I _have_ got such an idea
into my head. If I could but manage it! Do you think, Kathie, I could
possibly make a pincushion like that to send to mamma for her birthday?
It would be so beautiful!'
'I don't see why you shouldn't,' said Kathie; 'I don't think it would be
so very difficult. And I'm almost sure aunty would give you some bits.'
'If I had one very pretty piece for the top,' said Philippa, 'a plainer
kind would do to frill round it, and _quite_ plain would do to line
it--just silk that one could get in any shop. And I could get some lace
that would do very well. I have some money, you know. Couldn't we write
to some shop in London?'
'I should think so. And you'd have to get some stuff to scent it--that
one was scented, didn't you notice? What fun it would be to make it! If
I had anybody to make one for, I'd like to make one too.'
'Kathie!' Philippa exclaimed, 'you have your own mamma!'
'Oh, but,' said Kathleen, blushing a little, 'I don't remember her, you
see. I've never made her anything. It's different from you. Still--if I
thought she'd like it. She's often written about my learning to sew and
to be neat-handed, and I don't like that sort of thing, so I never
answer that part of her letters.'
'It would be _very_ nice for you to make her something, to show her you
are neat-handed. Wouldn't it, Neville? Don't you think so too?' asked
Philippa.
'Yes,' Neville replied. 'I think it would be very nice. Only there's one
difficulty--where are you to get the boxes? There must be a box for that
kind of pincushion.'
Philippa's face fell; but Kathie's, on the contrary, brightened up.
'I know,' she said. 'I have an idea. But I won't tell you just yet.
Leave it to me, Philippa--you'll see.'
'But, Kathie,' said the little girl plaintively, 'you won't forget, will
you? You so often do, you know. I've only a fortnight before the box
goes. Uncle and grandmamma had got it nearly all ready before she got
ill; there are books and lots of things going out to papa, that can't
wait. And if I can't do the pincushion, I must think of something else.'
'Oh, I won't forget,' said Kathie confidently. 'The first wet day--and
it's sure to be rain again soon; that's how it does in these hilly
places; it's never long the same thing. Well, the first wet day, it
would be a capital way of getting through the time to make pincushions.'
Philippa said nothing, but Neville noticed that her little face still
looked dissatisfied.
'Never mind, Philippa,' he whispered; 'she's only teasing you. I'll see
that she doesn't forget. And if she can't get a box for you, I'll try if
I can't.'
'Thank you, Neville! oh, thank you so much!' said Philippa fervently,
drawing a deep breath. 'How I wish you were my brother!'
Kathleen caught the last word. 'That's always the way,' she said.
'Perhaps if he was your brother, he wouldn't be so nice to you as he
is.' Kathie was in one of her mischievous, teasing moods, and when this
was the case she said things she did not really mean. But Philippa was
rather matter-of-fact. She looked quite distressed.
'Oh, Kathie!' she began.
'Well?' said Kathie.
'You don't really mean that, do you? I know you've often told me that
Neville was a _very_ good brother to you. I'm sure she doesn't really
mean it, Neville.'
Neville smiled at her anxious little face.
'No, I'm sure she doesn't,' he said. 'It is a shame of you to tease
Phil, Kathie. You've made her look quite troubled, poor child.'
'I'm very sorry,' said Kathleen. 'Phil isn't to look troubled _once_ the
whole time she's here. Tell me, dear, what can I do to make up for
teasing you?'
Philippa slipped her hand through Kathie's arm.
'Kathie,' she said, 'if you would but see about the pincushions without
waiting for a wet day. Now I've got it into my head, I do so want to do
it. And I think it would take a good while to make, do you know--longer
than you think, to do it quite neatly.'
'Very well, you little fusser,' said Kathie. 'I'll see what I can do.
But mind, I'm not going to be mewed up sewing and bothering at
pincushions all day, if it's beautiful, fine weather like this.'
'I don't want you to do anything of the kind,' said Philippa. 'That's
why it's so much better not to put off about it. We can take several
days to them, and do a little every day.'
'Humph!' was Kathleen's reply.
'Why do you say that?' asked Philippa.
'Oh,' said Kathie, 'I know what your "doing a little bit every day"
means. I know it of old. When she gets a thing in her head, Neville, she
fidgets at it till it's done, and won't give herself any peace.'
'Well, then, Kathie,' said Philippa, 'I just promise you I won't do that
way about the pincushion, if only you'll set my mind at rest by helping
me to get it begun.'
And she looked so pitiful, speaking in her quaint, earnest way, that
Kathleen could not help kissing her, and promising to do what she could
at once.
That evening, after tea, Kathie touched her aunt's arm as they were
leaving the dining-room.
'I want to speak to you a moment, aunty,' she said, and Miss Clotilda
turned back with her.
'Do you remember, aunty,' she said, 'that one day, when I first came,
you said you would show me some of the pieces of old silk and things of
Mrs. Wynne's? And I think you said you'd give me one or two. Would you
let us see them? And do you think you could give Phil some? She's taken
such a fancy in her head;' and Kathie went on to explain about the box
going out to India, and the pincushion old Mrs. Davis had shown them,
which Philippa so much wished to copy for her mother.
'And,' Kathie went on, 'I've another idea too. We were thinking it would
be very difficult to get a box to make it with. That morning when the
cupboard was left open in my room, I saw several old pincushions that
you said you had meant to cover fresh. Might, oh! _might_ we have two of
them? We could easily get some plain thin silk for lining them
with--Phil has some money, and I have a very little--if some of the nice
old pieces would do for the outside.'
Miss Clotilda looked a little bewildered.
'Two, my dear?' she said. 'I thought it was Philippa who wanted to make
one. Do you want one too?'
Kathie blushed a little.
'They said,' she began, 'Neville and Phil said, it would be so nice if I
made one for mamma too. I've never made her anything--I don't like
sewing, you know, aunty, and she's always writing about things like
that.'
Miss Clotilda patted Kathie's head.
'Yes, dear,' she said; 'I do think it would be very nice indeed. I am
sure it would please your mamma. I am almost sure I can give you two of
the soiled ones that you can undo and cover and line freshly. If you
undo them carefully, you will see exactly how they are made without my
helping you. You would rather make them all by yourselves, would you
not?'
'Yes,' said Kathie, 'if we can. It would be much nicer, as they are to
be presents to our mothers. Thank you _so_ much, aunty.'
'I will bring down the bundle of old pieces this evening, if you like,'
Miss Clotilda went on. 'I know exactly where they are; I can put my hand
upon them in a moment. It will amuse us to look them over and choose
which will do.'
And the kind creature set off up-stairs at once to fetch them, while
Kathie, overjoyed, ran to tell Philippa the success of her application.
The pieces of silk proved quite as interesting as they expected.
'It reminds me,' said Miss Clotilda, with a smile, 'of Mrs. Goodrich in
"The Fairchild Family," a story I read when I was little, when she gave
Bessy and Lucy and Emily each two pieces of old brocaded silk or satin
as a test of their neat-handedness. You have never seen the book, but it
was a very favourite one of mine as a child.'
And she went on to tell them the rest of the story of the patches of
silk, how the good little girls turned theirs to purpose, and how the
poor naughty girl threw a bottle of ink over hers.
'Poor naughty girl!' said Kathie. 'I am afraid I must be rather like
her, aunty. And Philippa is like all the good little girls rolled into
one. Oh, aunty! what a lovely piece that is!'
[Illustration]
It was a narrow satin and silk stripe of a curious salmon colour, and
here and there were little daisies embroidered in gold thread. There was
another pale grey satin, with wreaths of flowers running all over it,
which was greatly to Philippa's taste; and as there was enough for the
purpose of each of these, Miss Clotilda gave them to the children. Then
a letter had to be written to be sent by the carrier to the draper's at
Hafod, where Mrs. Wynne had always dealt, to order a yard of plain
rose-coloured silk for Philippa, and the same quantity of white for
Kathie, as linings for both pincushions. A contrast would be best, Miss
Clotilda told them, as it was all but impossible to match the strange
and delicate shades of the old silks, except perhaps in very rich and
expensive materials. Bedtime had come before all this was done, and the
children went off to dream of 'flowered padusoy,' and pearl-grey satins
'that would stand alone.'
Miss Clotilda had some difficulty the next morning in persuading them to
go for a walk early and not to set to work till later.
'It will be very hot this afternoon,' she said. 'Indeed, I think there
is thunder not far off. You will have a nice quiet time for getting to
work after dinner, and I will look out the old pincushions this
morning.'
They set off, though rather reluctantly, for Kathie, now that she had
taken up the idea, was more full of it than even Philippa. And she was
much less ready than Philippa to yield her wishes and opinions to those
of others.
It did not rain that afternoon, but, as Miss Clotilda had foreseen, it
was very hot. And the children, all three--for Neville too seemed
bitten by the pincushion mania--found it very pleasant to sit round a
table in the nice cool library, busy with their work.
There was not much they could do at first beyond unpicking and
measuring. Miss Clotilda had given them two of the pincushions out of
the cupboard, and, as Philippa had foreseen, when they came to take them
carefully to pieces, they found that there would really be more work to
do than they had expected.
'What patience Mrs. Wynne must have had,' said Kathie, 'to do them so
beautifully! Did you ever see anything so neat? Just look at the hemming
of this frill, Phil.'
Philippa took it up to admire.
'We might hem our frills this afternoon,' she said, 'and then to-morrow,
when we have the silk from Hafod, we can go on with the linings.'
'I do hope to-morrow will be a wet day,' said Kathie. 'We could get on
so splendidly if it were.'
Neville looked up suddenly from one of the now uncovered pincushions
which he had been examining.
'You've forgotten about the scent,' he said.
'No, we haven't,' said Kathleen. 'Aunty has some sachet-powder she is
going to give us.'
'And I'll tell you what,' he went on, 'you'd better get some fresh bran.
This cushion does smell a little musty, and it won't be much trouble to
unfasten it from the top of the box, and fill it fresh. Look, it's only
tacked down at the corners. The silk top keeps it in its place. Mrs.
Wynne must have been a faddy old lady. Just see--there's a sheet of
note-paper under the cushion--and the date she made it.'
He drew out the paper as he spoke. On it was written, as he said, the
date, 'Ty-gwyn, January 24th, 1865.'
'What a good plan!' said Philippa; 'the thick paper keeps it all so nice
and even--perhaps she did it for that too. Let us put papers in ours
with the date, Kathie. Perhaps our great-grandchildren will find them
some day. We'd better put our names too.'
Kathie had no objection. And Neville very good-naturedly went off to the
'shop' to get some nice bran, to be ready for to-morrow.