A BIRTHDAY PARTY
It was almost summer, however, before Jeremy Todd was able to carry out
the plan which had occurred to him on the day when the dogs had had
their “wetting.” In the meantime the days had gone busily for Ellen.
What with keeping up with her class at school, performing the duties her
cousin allotted her at home, and giving such attention as was possible
to her music, there was no time for moping. Christmas passed quietly.
Some little gifts came from the old friends in the city, Caro gave her a
large box of candy which brought the charge from Miss Rindy that she was
not to make herself sick eating it, and from some unknown quarter came a
box of flowers. Dear old Jeremy smuggled in a set of Browning, looking
furtively around as he produced it, as if he suspected Bessie would be
on his track. Miss Rindy sniffed when Ellen displayed the gift.
“I don’t see where he got the money to buy it,” she said. “Perfect
nonsense, anyway. Don’t try to make me read the stuff.” Ellen, however,
was delighted, and ransacked her mother’s trunks, at last pouncing on a
collection of bound music which was almost new, and which she decided
would make a suitable gift for her good friend.
Her happiest hours were those spent in the church at the organ, or in
listening to Jeremy as he poured forth his soul in music. Ellen made
great progress, to the intense satisfaction of her teacher. “Not a doubt
but you’ll take my place one of these days,” he told her.
“But I don’t want to take your place,” declared Ellen vehemently.
“Not when I’m no longer able to do my duty by the old organ? I’m
counting on you as my successor.”
Ellen had no answer to make to this, for it was a subject she did not
care to dwell upon.
One day in May, when trees were in blossom and birds were singing,
Jeremy wound up his playing with Mendelssohn’s “Spring Song,” saying, as
he turned on his bench, “Hackneyed as it is, I had to play that to-day.
Songs without words are all around us, and we must join in. Let’s see
how well you can play the ‘Wedding March’ for the birds who are mating.”
He produced the music and gave his place to Ellen, listening critically
as she went on. He did not interrupt, but when she had sounded the last
notes he said, “Let me give you one or two suggestions and then you play
it over.”
Ellen obeyed, carefully following out his directions.
“Better, much better,” he cried as the last notes died away. “Good
enough for any wedding party that is likely to hear it in this church.
Now I have a proposition to make to you. For years I have wanted to go
to the Bach Festival at Bethlehem. This year it seemed that all was
favorable for me to go. It would be a sad disappointment to me if I were
to miss it. I should have to be away two or three days, and just at the
last I am informed that a wedding will take place in the church on one
of those very days when I should be absent. Now, then, my dear, I want
you to do me the favor of taking my place. You can do it perfectly well.
I have trained you on the Lohengrin music with this in view, and now we
have the Mendelssohn march quite ready. What do you say?”
“Oh, Mr. Todd, do you really think I can do it well enough?” Ellen was
quite overcome.
“Certainly you can. In the first place there will be no musical critics
present, and in the second place no one will notice anything but the
wedding party. You might play execrably and it would make no difference
so long as there was an approach to the familiar strains. I will see
that some one is at hand to tell you when to begin and when to stop, so
you won’t be flustered.”
“You know I would do almost anything for you, Mr. Todd,” said Ellen
earnestly, “and if you think I can do it well enough and won’t get
panicky I’ll try my best.”
“Good girl! Now then, I want you to know that you will be doing not only
a great favor to me, but you will be earning five dollars, for that is
what is paid for the music.”
“Oh, but, Mr. Todd, I couldn’t take any money when I am simply acting in
your place; besides, see how much in your debt I am already.”
“Nonsense, nonsense! There is no question of debt. I have enjoyed our
lessons more than I can tell you, and am I to be paid for receiving
pleasure? No, no, that is out of the question. Moreover, I shall stay at
home unless you are willing to make this a matter of business. Do you
want to deprive me of that which I have longed for during all these
years?”
“No, no, I don’t want that; of course I don’t; I want you to go. I’ll
not do anything to keep you.”
“Then it’s settled. You take my place and I go to the festival with joy.
It will be one of the happiest experiences of my life. Now I will tell
you that I hoped for this long ago, when you first asked me to think of
some way in which you could earn money. Perhaps you have wondered why I
have been so particular about these wedding marches. I wanted to prepare
you for some such occasion. Now I am perfectly satisfied that you will
do me credit, and I can go off with a clear conscience.”
“How can I thank you? It is perfectly wonderful,” said Ellen with
shining eyes.
“It is wonderful for me. Now, how are you going to spend the money? You
have said that you longed to do something for Rindy. What is it to be?”
“A party. She shall have a birthday party. She has never had one in her
life. Of course it can’t be a very stylish affair, but it will be in
June, rose time, and there will be flowers to dress up the house with.”
“All you want from our bushes. Great scheme, Ellen. I’ll help all I
can.” It was just the sort of thing to appeal to Jeremy.
“We mustn’t let her know till the last minute, or she will throw cold
water on the plan. She will say it is extravagant, and I mustn’t spend
money on her. But is it extravagant to do her honor, to give her a good
time when she has never had any? Is it foolish, Mr. Todd?”
“It is not, and you will be giving others a good time, too, so the
circle widens. I approve heartily.”
So from this time on Ellen began to scheme. She made out her list of
invitations and went around to deliver them herself. “It is a sort of
surprise party,” she told Miss Rindy’s friends; “at least she is not to
know about it till the day. I am giving her the party for a birthday
present.”
“You are? Well, I call that real nice of you,” said Mrs. Todd, who was
the first to be approached. “I don’t suppose you’d mind if I sent in a
birthday cake, would you?”
“Oh, no, indeed. I’d be only too delighted to have it. Thank you very
much indeed, Mrs. Todd, for thinking of it. You are sure it won’t be too
much trouble for you?”
“No, it will be a pleasure. Now Jeremy is away I only have myself to
cook for, you know.”
The gist of the matter was that by the time Ellen had concluded her
rounds no less than six birthday cakes had been promised, while Maria
Perry asked if she didn’t want some pretty little candies to set off her
table, and Mrs. Hale offered to make a fruit punch, herself supplying
the fruit.
“I certainly do want to help all I can,” said this lady. “You say you
are going to have ice-cream. Are you going to buy it or make it?”
“I shall have to buy it,” Ellen told her, “for in the first place I
don’t know how to make it, and then we haven’t such a thing as a
freezer.”
Mrs. Hale considered the matter for a moment. “I tell you what you can
do,” she said. “Make it over here. Lucilena makes fine ice-cream, and
she’d love to help. We have a great big freezer which can be kept here
and taken over when you’re ready for it. I’ll order the ice and things
for you, and that will let you out of that much trouble.”
“How good you are,” cried Ellen gratefully. “Every one is so kind.”
“It’s mighty little to do for Miss Rindy,” declared Mrs. Hale. “She’s
always doing something for the rest of us, but never lets us do anything
for her. I shall never forget how good she was to us when Billy had
diphtheria. I believe she saved his life. Oh, no, you mustn’t think it
counts for anything to do this little bit.”
Having made all her arrangements for the party, Ellen next turned her
attention to her music for the wedding. It was an ordeal, but she meant
to meet it bravely, and so she did. It was a noon affair, but not a
stylish one. The bride was a simple little country girl, the bridegroom
a young farmer, but a church wedding they must have, flowers on the
altar and the conventional music. Ellen acquitted herself creditably,
saw the bridal party depart amid showers of rice, and passed out to be
clasped by Caro.
“Oh, Ellen,” cried this devoted friend, “I was so thrilled. To think it
was you playing the wedding march! Now, I want you to promise on your
sacred word of honor that you will play for me when I get married.”
“Isn’t it a little early to plan for that?” inquired Ellen laughing.
“Well, maybe it is,” returned Caro with perfect seriousness, “but I want
to be sure of you.”
“Evidently you think I’m a slippery sort of person,” returned Ellen
teasingly.
“No, no, you know I don’t think that, but it will be such a lovely thing
to look forward to.”
“Your wedding, or my performance?”
“Stop teasing,” said Caro, giving her a gentle shake. “What are you
going to do now?”
“I am going home to haul over the things in one of my mother’s trunks.
Cousin Rindy has got to have something to wear to her party. I have told
every one to dress up in her best, but, dear me, you know what Cousin
Rindy’s best is. She hasn’t even the plainest sort of white frock to her
name, just some old lawns and things, and I want to see her dressed up
for once in her life.”
“What do you think you can find to dress her up in?” inquired Caro, who
was deeply interested in the coming event.
“I think there is a black lace dress of Mother’s which will do. Dear
Mother kept it to wear evenings when she went out to sing. She disposed
of all her colored dresses when she went into mourning for my father.”
“And what shall you wear?”
“Cousin Rindy has made over for me the only white dress that Mother had.
Dear Mother had worn out most of the other things, so there wasn’t much
left that could be used, but I’m pretty sure of the black lace, and I
think Cousin Rindy can wear it just as it is.”
“I am just crazy to see how she will look. When are you going to tell
her, Ellen?”
“Not till the very day. You mustn’t fail me, Caro. You know you are to
help serve the refreshments.”
“Fail you? I never was more excited in my life. I wouldn’t miss it for
the world. Every one is talking about it.”
“I hope to goodness they won’t let the cat out of the bag. I do want to
keep it a secret up to the very day. Cousin Rindy is capable of balking
if you give her time to think.”
The lace dress was discovered to be in quite as good order as Ellen had
hoped. It was shaken out and hung up in her clothespress, to be ready
for the great day.
It was mid-June. There was no school to think of, for the summer
holidays had begun. Mr. Todd had returned long since from his outing,
uplifted because of the good time he had had, meeting old friends,
talking with kindred spirits, and, above all, listening to such music as
he had not heard since his student days. “Some day you must go,” he told
Ellen as he ended his account of his experiences.
“It will be a long time before I arrive at a proper appreciation of
Bach,” Ellen told him, “and still longer before I can afford such a
jaunt.”
“One never knows,” returned her friend. “I was a long time saving enough
for the journey, and could never have indulged myself in such
extravagance if a friend had not made it possible by inviting me to stay
with him. However, my child, as I said, one never knows. There may be a
perfect rush of weddings when your services will be required at the
organ.”
“No, indeed, I shall not take your place again. I feel guilty, as it is,
to have accepted your fee.”
“You earned it, and did mighty well, I hear. It won’t do to say you will
never do it again; I might have lumbago.” And he went off chuckling.
Long before this Ellen had lost all awe of her cousin. At first,
depressed, lonely, grief-stricken, she had shown only a meek spirit. She
did not know what kindness, justice, and good sense lay behind Miss
Rindy’s abrupt manner, but in time she found out, her spirits revived,
and she teased, cajoled, made enthusiastic appeals, just as she had done
in her own home.
On the morning of Miss Rindy’s birthday she began her manœuvres at the
breakfast table. “I hope you don’t forget that this is your birthday,”
she said. “Now, would you rather I kissed you once a minute for
three-quarters of an hour, or will you take a kiss once a day for
forty-six days?”
“You ridiculous girl! You know what I think about kissing.”
“That’s the reason I asked. I didn’t know but you would rather have it
over at once than prolong the agony.”
“I don’t see the necessity of doing either.”
“We’ve got to do something to celebrate, so I thought that might appeal
to you as being a cheap way of getting out of it. If you object to that
form of celebration, what do you say to a party?”
“A party, indeed! What are you talking about? I never had a party in my
life.”
“Then it’s high time you had, and I mean that you shall.”
“You do, do you? I suppose you mean to furnish party dresses,
refreshments, decorations, and all that.”
“Of course I do.”
“And where, may I ask, do you expect to get the money?”
“Oh, I have money enough. Five dollars should cover the expense of the
modest entertainment I have in mind.”
“Five dollars, and where did you get five dollars?” Miss Rindy leaned
forward with real eagerness.
“Earned it.”
“How?”
“Playing wedding marches for Miss Matilda Andrews’ wedding.”
“You don’t mean to say they paid you for that? I thought you did it as a
favor so Jeremy could go to that musical thing he was so set upon.”
“He called it a favor, but I was paid just the same.”
“You ought to give it right back to him.”
“I tried to, but he won’t take it, so to ease my conscience I am going
to blow it in on a party for you, which he can enjoy as well as the
rest.”
“That is a perfectly absurd and ridiculous notion. You need shoes.”
“I can get along with those I have, or wear a pair of Mother’s if I
stuff cotton in the toes. If worst comes to worst, I can go to one of
those communities where they run around barefoot for their health’s
sake. Now, Cousin Rindy, I don’t mind those disapproving looks one
little bit. I’ve made all my arrangements. In a few minutes I expect the
first birthday cake to be delivered. The invitations are all out; I hope
you will approve of the list. The cakes are baked, or will be before the
morning is over, so this evening you must be ready to receive your
guests. I don’t believe you will be so cruel as to disappoint them and
me.”
Miss Rindy’s usually firm lips began to quiver. “But Ellen, but Ellen——”
“Ellen me no Ellens. Unless you want me to die of mortification you will
succumb gracefully.”
“It looks as if I must,” Miss Rindy sighed half wistfully. “But I have
nothing suitable to wear.”
“Oh, yes, you have. When we have finished the breakfast dishes we will
go up-stairs and try it on.”
“What is it?” Miss Rindy’s curiosity really was aroused.
“That black lace of Mother’s. I am sure it will fit you, or at least,
made as it is, you can wear it. I want you to take it as a birthday gift
from me.”
“I shall not do it. You will need it yourself some day.”
“Do you consider black lace suitable for a chit of a girl? By the time I
could wear it, firstly, it would be all out of style; secondly, it will
have turned brown or green from lying away; and thirdly, it may drop to
pieces from the same cause. Now be a nice, good child and do this for
me. I want you to wear, too, that pretty bead chain thing one of your
soldier boys made, and sent you last Christmas. You never would wear it,
and now’s your chance. It will set off your dress beautifully, and with
a rose or two you will look like a queen. Don’t dawdle over your food,
Orinda; there is a lot to be done, and we must get on.”
“I declare, Ellen,” Miss Rindy began as she took up her knife and fork
again, but she stopped short, and looked so pathetically meek that Ellen
felt like laughing, telling herself that her cousin stood bossing pretty
well.
The rest of the day Miss Rindy acted like one in a daze. The dress was
found to suit perfectly, although at first Miss Rindy insisted that she
had never worn anything so low in the neck, and that it must be fastened
up close to her chin, as she never wore anything in any other way.
“Then it is high time you did,” insisted Ellen, still bossy. “Any one
with such a pretty white throat should show it. My conscience, Cousin
Rindy! Nobody could call that anything but modest in the extreme.”
“But I shall be so conscious and uncomfortable.”
“You’ll be mighty comfortable on a hot day like this, and if it should
happen that you sink through the floor with shame I’ll get the rector to
go down into the cellar and bring you up.”
“You do talk the most utter nonsense.”
“Every one talks nonsense when they’re giving a birthday party. I hope I
won’t do anything perfectly scan’lous before the day is over.”
“I’m not sure that you won’t,” returned Miss Rindy grimly, “considering
the way you have begun.”
“That isn’t a circumstance to the way I shall end,” retorted Ellen
lightly.
“I want to see that list of invitations,” Miss Rindy changed the
subject.
“You shall see it.”
“How did you word your notes?”
“Like this: ‘Miss Ellen North’s compliments to Mrs. So-and-So, and
requests the pleasure of her company on June fifteenth at eight o’clock
in the evening at a birthday party in honor of Miss Orinda Crump.’ Of
course, it was rather formal, and as I took them around myself I needn’t
have written them, but could have delivered my message in person, but I
wanted to be sure how many would accept, and then I didn’t want them to
forget.”
“Nobody in this town would be likely to forget a party at Rindy
Crump’s,” was the comment, given gruffly.
There never was a more active person than Ellen showed herself to be
that day. She made the house into a bower, she was “up-stairs,
down-stairs, and in my lady’s chamber,” so that every room was
rose-sweet. The cakes kept arriving up to the last minute,—even Miss
Sophia Garrett sent one,—and the bowl of fruit punch was delivered
safely, while the freezer of ice-cream stood in readiness to be brought
over by Lucilena at the last moment. Mrs. Hale offered to lend Lucilena
for the occasion, that dusky person eagerly seconding the offer. Wipers
was dressed up in a flaunting blue bow made from a discarded hair ribbon
of Caro’s; to be truthful one must relate that it was torn to bits
before midnight in an affray with Bunty, but this did not prevent
Wipers’ initial appearance from being quite magnificent.
The hardest duty of the day was that of dressing up Miss Rindy, who
balked every step of the way. “You must let me do your hair,” Ellen
insisted at the outset.
“What for?” asked Miss Rindy.
“Because I want it to be becoming.”
“It does well enough. I’ve always worn it this way, and I don’t mean to
change.”
“Just for this once; if you don’t like it you can go back to the old
way. Do you know I read somewhere that a woman doesn’t begin to grow old
till she ceases to change the arrangement of her hair. I am crazy to see
how you will look when I am through with you.”
“Very well, go ahead, but I warn you that if I don’t like it, down it
comes.”
Ellen went ahead. She waved, fluffed out, brought down becoming locks
over the high expanse of her cousin’s forehead, and then giggled as she
stood off to see the effect.
“I suppose I do look like a perfect guy,” said Miss Rindy, “so it’s no
wonder you’re laughing at me. Give me that hand mirror.”
“No, no, you are not to see yourself till you are all dressed. I was
laughing because I’m so pleased at the result of my efforts.”
“You don’t expect me to get dressed twice. How can I do my hair with
that fancy frock on?”
“That is just what I don’t expect. I guarantee that you won’t want to
take off the frock once you see how well you look.” She slipped the
dress over her cousin’s head, fastened it, after many objections to the
extremely modest display of throat, finished it off with an
old-fashioned pin, swung the chain into place, then turned her cousin
around to face the large mirror. “There,” she exclaimed, “how do you
think you look?”
“Like a fool,” responded Miss Rindy with her twist of a smile.
“Orinda Crump, I am ashamed of you! You know perfectly well that you
never looked so well in all your life. You’d pass for no more than
thirty-five at the most. Will you have a dab of powder on your nose? You
won’t? Well, with your nice complexion you really don’t need it. ’Fess
up that you are pleased as Punch.”
“I have to acknowledge, Ellen, that I never dreamed that dress could
make such a difference, and that I suppose I am a vain old goose to be
so pleased, but what troubles me is what people will think. I know what
Sophy Bennett will say: ‘There’s no fool like an old fool.’”
“What do you care what she says or thinks? I’m sorry I invited her if
you think she’ll make you feel uncomfortable.”
“She won’t, not any more than any one else. Let’s go down, Ellen, before
I get so puffed up looking at myself in the glass that there’ll be no
enduring me.”
“There’s the bell,” cried Ellen.
“Don’t leave me up here alone,” Miss Rindy called after her, “for there
is no knowing into what self-abasement I may plunge. If I don’t rend my
heart I may rend my garments, so wait for me, and, once having put my
hand to the plough, I shall not dare to turn back.”
Ellen waited for her half-way down the stairs, and together they greeted
the first arrivals, these happening to be Caro and her parents.
“It’s good you happen to be the first, Sam Rowe,” was Miss Rindy’s
greeting to the doctor. “This is my first party, you know, and I’m
liable to faint dead away from excitement, I’m in such a flutter.”
“You don’t look much as if you’d faint,” returned the doctor. “I never
saw you look so well.”
“Why, Rindy Crump,” Mrs. Rowe had been looking her over, “what have you
been doing to yourself? You look ten years younger.”
“Doesn’t she?” the doctor agreed. “You’re almost good-looking, Rindy.”
“Sh! Sh!” warned Miss Rindy. “Here come some more people. I must compose
my countenance. If you don’t stop your compliments, I shall have a rush
of blood to the head, and then what? Go along, Sam Rowe, and try out
your flattery on some one else, Sophy Bennett, for instance.”
The doctor made a wry face but moved on, and soon Miss Rindy was
surrounded by her guests.