DIARY--PLAIN FOR A NIGHT
_February 21._
LAST night was the masquerade. I wore the plain gray dress, apron and
cape and a white cap on my head. I felt rather like a hypocrite as I
looked at myself in the glass, but Virginia said it was just the thing
and certainly would not be duplicated by any other guest.
I was dressed early and started down the stairs, my black mask swinging
from my hand. As I rounded a curve in the stairway I glanced casually
down the wide hall. The colored servant had admitted visitors. I looked
in that direction--the mask fell from my hand and I ran down the steps
and into the arms of Mother Bab! I couldn't say more than "Oh, oh!" as I
kissed her over and over. When she got her breath she said happily,
"Phoebe, you're plain!"
Oh, how it hurt me! I took her and David to a little nook off the
library where we could be alone and then I had to tell her that I was
wearing the plain dress and white cap as a masquerade dress. Even when I
told her I learned to dance and do things she thinks are worldly there
was no look of pain on her face like the look I brought there as I stood
before her in a dress she reverenced and told her I wore it in a spirit
of fun. I'll never get over being sorry for hurting her like that. But
Mother Bab rallies quickly from every hurt. She soon smiled and said she
understood. David came to my aid. He assured his mother that they knew I
could take care of myself and would not do anything really wrong. I
couldn't thank him for his kindness. I felt suddenly all weepy and
tearful. But David began to talk on in his old friendly way and tell
about the home news and about the Big Doctor he had taken Mother Bab to
see in Philadelphia and how he hoped she would soon be able to see
perfectly again. While he talked Mother Bab and I had a chance to
recover a bit. I noted a quick shadow pass over her face as he spoke
about her eyes--was she less hopeful about them than he was? Had the Big
Doctor told her something David did not hear? But no! I dismissed the
thought--Mother Bab could not go blind! She would never be asked to
suffer that! I soon forgot my troublesome thoughts as she hastened to
say that perhaps her eyes would improve more quickly than the doctor
promised. Then she changed the subject--"Now, Phoebe, I hope I didn't
hurt you about the dress. I guess I looked at you as if I wanted to eat
you. I love you and wouldn't hurt you for anything."
"Mother Bab!" I gave her a real hug like I used to do when I ran
barefooted up the hill with some childish perplexity and she helped me.
"You're an angel! Mother Bab, David, having a good time won't hurt me.
Our views up home are too narrow. It's all right to expect older people
to do nothing more exciting than go to Greenwald to the store, to church
every Sunday, to an occasional quilting or carpet-rag party, and to
Lancaster to shop several times a year, but the younger generation needs
other things."
"I guess you mean it can't be Lent all the time for you," she suggested
with a smile.
"I just knew you'd understand."
Just then Royal began to play and the music floated in to us. It was
Traumerei. Mother Bab's tired face relaxed as she leaned back to listen
to the piercingly sweet melody. David looked at me--I knew he was asking
whether the player was Royal Lee.
"Oh, Davie," Mother Bab said innocently as the music ended, "if only you
could play like that!"
"If I could," he said half bitterly, "but all I can do is farm. Are you
coming home this spring?" he asked me, as if to forget the violin and
its player.
"I don't know. I'll probably stay here until early June. I may go away
with Virginia for part of the summer."
"Not be home for spring and summer!" he said dismally. "Why, it won't be
spring without you! We can't go for bird-foot violets or arbutus."
Arbutus--the name called up a host of memories to me. "How I'd like to
go for arbutus this spring," I told him.
"Then come home in April and I'll take you to Mt. Hope for some."
"Oh, David, will you?"
"I'd love to. We'll drive up."
"I'll come," I promised. "I'll come home for arbutus. Let me know when
they're out."
"All right. But I think we must go now or we'll miss the train."
"Go?" I echoed. "You're not going home to-night? Can't you stay? Mrs.
McCrea has vacant rooms. I've been so excited I forgot my manners. Let
me take you to the sitting-room and introduce you to Mrs. Lee and
Royal."
"Ach, no," Mother Bab protested. "We can't stay that long. We just
stopped in to see you."
David looked at his watch. "We must go now. There's a train at
eight-twenty-one gets to Lancaster at ten-forty-five and we'll get the
last car out to Greenwald and Phares will meet us and drive us home."
I asked about the home folks as I watched David adjust Mother Bab's
shawl. He looked older and worried. I suppose he was disappointed
because the Big Doctor didn't promise a quick cure for Mother Bab's
eyes.
As they said good-bye and left me I wanted to run after them and ask
them to take me home, back to the simple life of my people. But I stayed
where I was, the earthiest worldling in a dress of unworldliness.
"I--I believe I'll take it off," I thought as I stood in the doorway.
Just then Royal opened the door and saw me. "Ye Gods!" he exclaimed,
"you look like a saint, Phoebe."
"But I'm not! I'm far from being a saint!"
"Don't be one, please. If you turn saint I shall be disconsolate. I
don't like saints of women and I want to keep on liking you, little
Bluebird. Remember, you promised me the first dance."
"I don't know--I don't feel like dancing."
"Oh, but you must! You look like a Quakeress but no one expects you to
act like one to-night. I'm going up to dress--I'm going as a monk to
match you."
He ran off, laughing, and I went in search of Virginia. My heart was
heavy. The sudden appearance of Mother Bab and David brought me a vivid
impression of the contrast between their lives and mine and the thoughts
left me worried and restless. What was I doing? Was I shaping my life in
such a way that it would never again fit into the simple grooves of
country life? The dance lost its charm for me. I danced and made merry
and tried to enter into the gay spirit of the occasion but I longed all
the time to be with Mother Bab and David riding to Lancaster County.