IN MISS PENNY'S SHOP
One of the pleasantest places in Elmerton was Miss Penny Pardon's shop.
Miss Penny (short for Penelope) and Miss Prudence were sisters; and as
there was not enough dressmaking in the village to keep them both busy
at all seasons, and as Miss Penny was lame and could not "go" much, as
we say in the village, she kept this little shop, through which one
passed to reach the back parlor where Miss Prudence cut and fitted and
stitched. It was a queer little shop. There were a few toys, chiefly
dolls, beautifully dressed by Miss Prudence, with marbles and tops in
their season for the boys; there was a little fancy work, made by
various invalid neighbors, which Miss Penny undertook to sell "if 'twas
so she could," without profit to herself; a little stationery, and a few
small wares, thread and needles, hairpins and whalebone--and there were
a great many birds. Elmerton was a great place for cage-birds, and Miss
Penny was "knowing" about them; consequently, when any bird was ailing,
it was brought to her for advice and treatment, and there were seldom
less than half a dozen cages in the sunny window. One shelf was devoted
to stuffed birds, it being the custom, when a favorite died, to present
it to Miss Penny for her collection; and thus the invalid canaries and
mino birds were constantly taught to know their end, which may or may
not have tended to raise their spirits.
One morning Miss Penny was bustling about her shop, feeding the birds
and talking to Miss Prudence, the door between the two rooms being open.
She was like a bird herself, Miss Penny, with her quick motions and
bright eyes, her halting walk which was almost a hop, and a way she had
of cocking her head on one side as she talked.
"So I says, 'Of course I'll take him, Mis' Tree, and glad to. He'll be
company for both of us,' I says. And it's true. I'd full as lieves hear
that bird talk as many folks I know, and liever. I told her I guessed
about a week would set him up good, taking the Bird Manna reg'lar, and
the Bitters once in a while. A little touch of asthmy is what he's got;
it hasn't taken him down any, as I can see; he's as full of the old
Sancho as ever. Willy Jaquith brought him down this morning, while you
was to market. How that boy has improved! Why, he's an elegant-appearing
young man now, and has such a pretty way with him--well, he always had
that--but now he's kind of sad and gentle. I shouldn't suppose he had
any too long to live, the way he looks now. Well, hasn't Mary Jaquith
had a sight of trouble, for one so good? Dear me, Prudence, the day she
married George Jaquith, she seemed to have the world at her feet, didn't
she?"
"_Eheu fugaces_," said a harsh voice from a corner.
"There, hear him!" said Miss Penny. "I do admire to hear him speak
French. Yes, Jocko, he was a clever boy, so he was. Pretty soon Penny'll
get round to him, and give him a good washing, a Beauty Bird, and feed
him something real good."
"'_Eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume,
Labuntur anni_;'
tell that to your granny!" said Mrs. Tree's parrot, turning a bright
yellow eye on her knowingly.
"Bless your heart, she wouldn't understand if I did. She never had your
advantages, dear," said Miss Penny, admiringly. "Here, now you have had
a nice nap, and I'll move you out into the sun, and give you a drop of
Bird Bitters. Take it now, a Beauty Boy. Prudence, I wish't you could
see him; he's taking it just as clever! I never did see the beat of this
bird for knowingness."
"Malviny Weight was askin' me about them Bitters," said Miss Prudence's
voice from the inner room. "She wanted to know if there was alcohol in
'em, and if you thought it was right to tempt dumb critters."
"She didn't! Well, if she ain't a case! What did you say to her,
Prudence? Hush! hush to goodness! Here she is this minute. Good morning,
Mis' Weight! You're quite a stranger. Real seasonable, ain't it, this
mornin'?"
"'Tis so!" responded the newcomer, who entered, breathing heavily. "I
feel the morning air, though, in my bronical tubes. I hadn't ought to go
out before noon, but I wanted to speak to Prudence about turnin' my
brown skirt. Is she in?"
"Yes'm, she's in. You can pass right through. The door's open."
"Crickey!" said Mrs. Tree's parrot, "What a figurehead!"
"Who's that?" demanded Mrs. Weight, angrily.
Miss Penny turned her back hastily, and began arranging toys on a shelf.
"Why, that's Mis' Tree's parrot, Mis' Weight," she said. "That's Jocko.
You must know him as well as I do, and better, livin' opposite neighbor
to her."
"I should think I did know him, for a limb of Satan!" said the visitor.
"But I never looked for him here. Is he sick? I wish to gracious he'd
die. It's my belief he's possessed, like some others I know of. I'm not
one to spread, or I could tell you stories about that bird--"
She nodded mysteriously, and glanced at the parrot, who had turned
upside down on his perch, and was surveying her with a malevolent stare.
"Why, Mis' Weight, I was just sayin' how cute he was. He'll talk just as
pretty sometimes--won't you, Jocko? Say something for Mis' Weight, won't
you, Beauty Boy?"
"Helen was a beauty!" crooned the parrot, his head on one side, his eyes
still fixed on Mrs. Weight.
"Was she?" said Miss Penny, encouragingly. "I want to know! Now, who do
you s'pose he means? There's nobody name of Helen here now, except
Doctor Pottle's little girl, and she squints."
"Helen was a beauty,
Xantippe was a shrew;
Medusa was a Gorgon,
And so--are--_you_!
Ha! ha! ha! crickey! she carries Weight, she rides a race, 'tis for a
thousand pound. Screeeeeee!"
Swinging himself upright, the parrot flapped his wings, and uttered a
blood-curdling shriek. Mrs. Weight gave a single squawk, and fled into
the inner room, slamming the door violently after her.
"How you can harbor Satan, Prudence Pardon, is more than I can
understand," she panted, purple with rage. "If there was a _man_ in this
village, he'd wring that bird's neck."
Miss Prudence was removing pins from her mouth, preparatory to a reply,
when Miss Penny appeared, very pink, it might be with indignation at the
parrot's misconduct.
"There, Mis' Weight!" she said, soothingly, "I'm real sorry. You mustn't
mind what a bird says. It's only what those wild boys taught him, Arthur
Blyth and Willy Jaquith, and I'm sure neither one of 'em would do it
to-day, let alone Arthur's being dead. Why, he says it off same as he
would a psalm, if they'd taught him that, as of course it's a pity they
didn't. You won't mind now, will you, Mis' Weight?"
Mrs. Weight, very majestic, deposited her bundle on the table, and sat
down.
"I say nothing of the dead," she proclaimed, after a pause, "and but
little of the livin'; but I should be lawth to have the load on my
shoulders that Mis' Tree has. The Day of Judgment will attend to Arthur
Blyth, but she is responsible for Will Jaquith's comin' back to this
village, and how she can sleep nights is a mystery to me. I thank
Gracious _I_ see through him at once. Some may be deceived, but I'm not
one of 'em."
"Now, Mis' Weight, I wouldn't talk so, if I was you," said Miss Penny,
still soothingly. "Willy Jaquith's doing real pretty in the office,
everybody says. Mr. Homer's tickled to death to have him there, and
they've got the place slicked up so you wouldn't know it. I always
thought Homer Hollopeter had a sufferin' time under Isr'el Nudd, though
he never said anything. It's not his way."
"What did you say you wanted done with this skirt?" asked Miss Prudence,
breaking in. She had less patience than Miss Penny, and she bent her
steel-bowed spectacles on the visitor with a look which meant, "Come to
business, if you have any!"
"Well, I don't hardly know!" said Mrs. Weight, unrolling her bundle.
"I'm so upset with that screeching Limb there, I feel every minute as if
I should have palpitations. It does seem as if the larger I got the
frailer I was inside. The co'ts of my stom--"
"I thought you said 'twas a skirt!" Miss Prudence broke in again,
grimly.
"So 'tis. There! I got something on this front brea'th the other day,
and it won't come out, try all I can. I thought mebbe you could--"
She plunged into depths of pressing and turning. At this moment the
shop-bell rang, and Miss Penny slipped back to her post.
"Good mornin', Miss Vesta! Well, you are a sight for sore eyes, as the
saying is."
"I thank you, Penelope. How do you do this morning?" inquired Miss Vesta
Blyth. "I trust you and Prudence are both well."
"Yes'm, we're real smart, sister 'n' me both. Sister's had the lumbago
some this last week, and my limb has pestered me so I couldn't step on
it none too lively, but other ways we're _real_ smart. I expect you've
come to see about Darlin' here."
She took a cage from the window and placed it on the counter. In it was
a yellow canary, which at sight of its mistress gave a joyous flap of
its golden wings, and instantly broke into a flood of song.
"Oh!" said Miss Vesta, with a soft coo of surprise and pleasure.
"He has found his voice again. And he looks quite, quite himself. Why,
Penelope, what have you done to him to make such a difference in these
few days? Dear little fellow! I am so pleased!"
Miss Penny beamed. "I guess you ain't no more pleased than I be," she
said. "There! I hated to see him sittin' dull and bunchy like he was
when you brought him in. I've ben givin' him Bird Manna and Bitters
right along, and I've bathed them spots till they're all gone. I guess
you'll find him 'most as good as new. Little Beauty Darlin', so he was!"
"Old friends!" said the parrot, ruffling himself all over and looking at
Miss Vesta. "Vesta, Vesta, how's Phoebe?"
"Jocko here!" said Miss Vesta. "Good morning, Jocko!"
[Illustration: "SHE PUT OUT A FINGER, AND JOCKO CLAWED IT WITHOUT
CEREMONY."]
She put out a finger, and Jocko clawed it without ceremony.
"I advised Aunt Marcia to send him to you, Penelope, and I am so glad
she has done so. He seemed quite croupy yesterday, and at his age, of
course, even a slight ailment may prove serious."
"How old _is_ that bird, Miss Vesta, if I may ask?" said Miss Penny.
"I know he's older'n I be, but I never liked to inquire his age of
Direxia; she might think it was a reflection."
"I remember Jocko as long as I remember anything," said Miss Vesta. "I
used to be afraid of him when I was a child, he swore so terribly. The
story was that he had belonged to a French marquis in the time of the
Revolution; he certainly knew many--violent expressions in that
language."
"I want to know if he did!" exclaimed Miss Penny, regarding the parrot
with something like admiring awe.
"Why, I've never heard him use any strong expressions, Miss Vesta. He
does speak French sometimes, but it doesn't sound like swearin', not a
mite. Not ten minutes ago he was sayin' something about Jehu; sounded
real Scriptural."
"Oh, I have not heard him swear for years," said Miss Vesta. "Aunt
Marcia cured him by covering the cage whenever he said anything
unsuitable. He never does it now, unless he sees some one he dislikes
very much indeed, and of course he is not apt to do that. Poor Jocko!
good boy!"
"_Arma virumque cano!_" said Jocko. "Vesta, Vesta, don't you pester! ri
fol liddy fo li, tiddy fo liddy fol li!"
"Ain't it mysterious?" said Miss Penny, in an awestricken voice. "There!
it always makes me think of the Tower of Babel. Did you want to take
little Darlin' back to-day, Miss Blyth? I was thinkin' I'd keep him a
day or two longer till his feathers looked real handsome and full. I
don't suppose you'd want him converted red, would you, Miss Vesta? I'm
told they're real handsome, but I don't s'pose you'd want to resk his
health."
"I do not understand you, Penelope," said Miss Vesta. "Red? You surely
would not think of dyeing a living bird?"
"No'm! oh, no, cert'in not, though I have heerd of them as did. But my
bird book says, feed a canary red pepper and he'll turn red, and stay so
till next time he moults. I never should venture to resk a bird's
health, not unless the parties wished it, but they do say it's real
handsome."
"I should think it very wrong, Penelope," said Miss Vesta, seriously.
"Apart from the question of the dear little creature's health, it would
shock me very much. It would be like--a--dyeing one's own hair to give
it a different color from what the Lord intended. I am sure you would
not seriously think of such a thing."
"Oh, no'm!" said Miss Penny, guiltily conscious of certain bottles on an
upper shelf warranted to "restore gray hair to its youthful gloss and
gleam."
"Well, then, I'll just feed him the Bird Manna, say till Saturday, and
by that time he'll be his own beauty self, the handsomest canary in
Elmerton. Won't he, Darlin'?"
"And I hope Silas Candy is prepared to answer for it at the Judgment
Seat!" said Mrs. Weight, in the doorway of the inner room. "Between him
and Mis' Tree that Tommy promises to be fruit for the gallus if ever it
bore any. Every sheet on the line with 'Squashnose' wrote on it, and a
picture of Isick that anybody would know a mile off, and all in green
paint. Oh, good morning, Vesta! Why, I thought for sure you must be
sick; you weren't out to meeting yesterday."
"No, I was not," said Miss Vesta, mildly. "I trust you are quite well,
Malvina, and that the deacon's rheumatism is giving him less trouble
lately?"
"If Malviny Weight ain't a case!" chuckled Miss Penny, as the two
visitors left the shop together. "I do admire to see Miss Vesta handle
her, so pretty and polite, and yet with the tips of her fingers, like
she would a dusty chair. There! what was I sayin' the other day? The
Blyth girls is ladies, and Malviny Weight--"
"Malviny Weight is a pokin', peerin', pryin' poll-parrot!" said Miss
Prudence's voice, sharply; "that's what she is!"
"Why, Prudence Pardon, how you talk!" said Miss Penny.