FUN WITH LADY ELIZA
Hannah, in her white cap and apron, came at once and opened the door.
Being a well-trained maid, she stepped back, and held the door open for
the lady to enter, but as the caller did not seem inclined to do so, but
persistently held out her card, Hannah took it, saying, “The ladies are
not at home, madam.”
Still the caller stood motionless, and Hannah looked at her with some
curiosity. The lace veil so shrouded her features that they were not
very discernible, but when Hannah’s glance fell on the rigid, pale hand,
she gave a scream:
“My sakes, ma’am! is it dead ye are, or fainted?”
Not being able to grasp at once the truth of the matter, Hannah took the
two cold hands in her own, and shook the lady slightly.
Lady Eliza toppled over, and would have fallen to the floor, but that
Hannah caught her in her arms, and dragged her into the hall, where she
dropped her on a large sofa.
“Delia!” she called, flying to the kitchen, “fetch some water. There’s a
lady fainted!”
Dick and Dolly, unable to restrain themselves longer, came running in,
and met Hannah, who returned, followed by Delia with a bowl of water.
“Hurry up, Hannah,” cried Dick. “She’s in an awful faint! Can’t you
bring her to?”
Dolly was dancing around the prostrate form of the visitor, and Michael
and Pat were peeping in at the front door.
“Ah, ye scallywags!” cried Delia, realising that some mischief was up.
“What are ye up to, now? Who’s this leddy?”
So lifelike was the whole effect of the figure, that Delia could not at
first take in the fraud. But when she did, she went off in peals of
laughter, and Hannah joined in heartily.
“Aren’t ye the smart scamps, now!” cried Delia, proud of the latest
exploit of the children. “An’ will ye look now, Hannah? That’s Miss
Rachel’s best blue dress! I’m wonderin’ ye didn’t recognise it!”
“I never thought,” said Hannah, still gazing half-fearfully at the
figure on the sofa. “I took it for granted it was a friendly visitor.”
Whereupon Dick outspread Lady Eliza’s arms in such a comical way, that
Delia went off again in fresh bursts of laughter.
“Now to fool the aunties,” said Dick, after the servants had returned to
their work and Dick and Dolly were left alone with their new possession.
“How shall we fix it up, Dollums?”
Dolly considered. She was more ingenious than Dick in arranging dramatic
effects, and at last she said:
“I think we’ll just have her seated in a corner of the veranda, and
then, when the aunties come home, I’ll tell them there’s a lady waiting
to see them.”
“Yes, that’ll be fine; let’s fix her now.”
So Lady Eliza Dusenbury was gracefully seated in a piazza chair. Upon
her knees lay an open magazine, held in place with one slender pink
hand.
“Those hands give her away, Dolly,” said Dick. “They don’t look a bit
real.”
“Neither they don’t,” agreed Dolly; “I’ll get gloves.”
She ran upstairs and down again, bringing a pair of light kid gloves
from Aunt Rachel’s room, which she succeeded in getting on the Lady
Eliza’s hands.
“That’s a heap better,” said Dick; “now, with the veil, and as its
getting sort of darkish, I don’t see how they’ll suspect at all.”
Quietly the Lady Eliza sat waiting. Not quite so quietly, Dick and Dolly
sat on the top step of the veranda, waiting also, and at last Michael,
who had gone after the Dana ladies, drove them up to the steps.
He had been charged by the twins not to mention their new acquisition,
so, of course, had not done so.
Dick and Dolly met their aunts, with a smiling welcome, and then Dolly
said:
“There’s a lady to see you, Aunt Rachel; as you weren’t home when she
came, she sat down, over there to wait.”
In her pleasant, dignified way, Miss Rachel crossed the veranda,
followed by Miss Abbie.
Though the ladies had slightly relaxed their “society” manner when
greeting the twins, they instantly assumed it again as they went to meet
their visitor.
“Good-afternoon,” said Miss Rachel as she neared the lady reading the
magazine.
But the stranger did not look up, and Miss Rachel assumed she had not
heard.
“How do you do?” she said, in louder tones, and held out her hand.
Miss Abbie also approached, and said “Good-afternoon,” and extended her
hand, but apparently the visitor had no intention of stopping her
reading.
With no thought other than that the lady was deaf or exceedingly
preoccupied, Miss Rachel stepped nearer, and said very loudly:
“Good-afternoon!”
Still no response, and now Miss Rachel became frightened.
“She has had a stroke or something,” she exclaimed, and, stooping, she
peered into the stranger’s face.
“Oh, Abbie! her cheek is hurt! Somebody has struck her, or thrown a
stone at her. How dreadful!”
Miss Abbie fluttered about.
“Oh, Rachel! How awful! What shall we do? Call for help, but don’t let
the children come here.”
“Yes, let us come,” cried Dick, as he and Dolly danced toward the group.
“Let us come, she’s our friend; she’s Lady Eliza Dusenbury.”
“What do you mean?” cried Miss Rachel. “This lady has been hurt somehow.
Go and call Hannah. Or perhaps we had better send Michael for a doctor.”
“No, don’t, Aunt Rachel,” said Dolly, who was now shrieking with
laughter. “Lady Eliza isn’t much hurt. But isn’t she a dear!”
Dolly threw her arms round the strange lady’s neck, and patted the
injured cheek gently. Magazine and shopping bag slid to the floor, but
otherwise, the stranger made no motion.
“Dolly, behave yourself!” cried Aunt Abbie. “What do you mean by such
actions? Let the poor lady be! Oh, what shall we do, Rachel?”
But Aunt Rachel had begun to see daylight. The irrepressible mirth of
the two children told her that there was a joke somewhere, and then, as
she recognised her own dress and hat, she suspected the truth.
“H’m,” she said; “suppose we take off the poor lady’s veil, and see how
much she is hurt.”
“Suppose we do,” said Dolly, and she obligingly assisted her aunt to
remove the veil from Lady Eliza’s beautiful, but scarred face.
“Well!” she exclaimed as she saw the glass eyes and the pink wax face,
“what _have_ you two been up to, now?”
As for Aunt Abbie, she sank down on a nearby chair, helpless with
laughter.
Then Aunt Rachel followed her example, and Dick and Dolly danced round
the three seated figures, while they screamed themselves hoarse with
glee.
They moved Lady Eliza’s arms into threatening and despairing poses, each
more ridiculous than the other.
They took off her hat, and breaking bunches of wistaria from the veranda
vine, they wreathed her golden mop of hair with them.
They took Aunt Rachel’s eyeglasses from the little gold hook on her
bodice, and perched them on Lady Eliza’s nose, sticking a pin in the wax
to hold them on. And at each ridiculous demonstration the two aunts
would become convulsed with laughter.
“Isn’t she lovely!” said Dolly, at last, as she hung around Aunt
Rachel’s neck, and watched Dick tie the string of a red balloon to Lady
Eliza’s hand, just so that the balloon kept thumping her in the face.
“She is beautiful,” agreed Aunt Rachel, with a shade of mental
reservation in her tones. “Where did you get her, and why did you take
my newest gown to play with?”
“I didn’t know it was your newest gown!” said Dolly, regretfully; but
Aunt Rachel told her not to mind, they would take it off, and there were
several older ones that would do equally well for Lady Eliza.
The story of the auction was told, and the aunts had another season of
mirth over the ridiculous bidding.
“All right,” said Aunt Rachel, after the story was finished, “but never
bid on anything unless you have enough money to pay for it.”
“We didn’t,” said Dick; “we counted our money first. And truly, this was
the only thing in the whole auction we wanted.”
“Well, I’m glad you have her. I think you can have good fun with such a
big doll. To-morrow I’ll find you some clothes.”
Aunt Rachel was as good as her word, and next day she went to the attic
and found several discarded costumes of her own and Aunt Abbie’s that
were fine for Eliza. Hats and bonnets, capes and shawls, a parasol and a
feather boa,—indeed the Lady Eliza soon had a complete and even
luxurious wardrobe.
Aunt Abbie touched up the injured cheek with some water-colour paints,
and then the injury scarcely showed at all.
That afternoon the twins prepared to spring the joke on Pinkie and Jack.
They expected them both to come over and play, and beforehand they got
the Lady Eliza ready. The arbour in the playground was now nearly
covered with vines, and formed a well-shaded tent.
In here, at a table, they placed Eliza, her hands meekly in her lap, and
her face downcast. She wore a black-and-white checked suit, and a black
hat and veil. Her hands were ungloved, but were filled with flowers,
which concealed the artificial-looking finger-tips.
Having arranged her exactly to their liking, the twins sat on the
veranda steps, waiting for their friends. Pinkie came first, and Jack
came very soon after.
“Let’s go out to the playground,” said Dick, casually.
“All right,” agreed Jack. “It’s too hot for tag; let’s play hide and
seek.”
They all sauntered toward the playground, and as they nearly reached it,
Jack said:
“Why, there’s a lady in there!”
“A lady?” said Dick, looking surprised. “What are you talking about?”
“There is,” repeated Jack; “see.”
They all peeped through the vines, and sure enough, a lady was seated at
the table. Her hands were full of flowers, but she appeared dejected,
and her head drooped a little.
“It isn’t either of the aunties,” whispered Dolly, “they’re in the
house.”
“Who is it then?” Jack whispered back, and Pinkie said, “Don’t let’s go
in, I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of a lady!” said Dick. “Pooh, I’m not. Maybe it’s your mother,
Pinkie.”
“No, it isn’t,” she replied. “Mother’s at home. Maybe it’s Hannah.”
“What would Hannah be here for?” said Dolly. “Let’s go in and see who it
is.”
“All right,” said Dick, and he stepped inside. “She won’t speak to me,”
he said, stepping out again. “You go in, Jack.”
Not wishing to be thought cowardly, Jack stepped into the arbour, and in
his politest tones, said:
“How do you do, ma’am?”
But the lady did not move, and just looked at Jack with big blue eyes,
that stared through her black veil.
“She’s a funny lady,” said Jack, rather bewildered. “She won’t speak,
and she just stares at me.”
“You try, Pinkie,” said Dolly.
So Pinkie went up to the lady, and in her sweet little voice said:
“What’s the matter, lady?”
She, too, received only a blue-eyed stare, and no word of reply.
“Perhaps she’s asleep,” said Dick.
“No, her eyes are wide open,” said Jack, his own eyes also wide open in
surprise.
“Then she must have fainted,” said Dick; “we must try to bring her to.”
He gave the lady a pat on the shoulder, but still she didn’t stir.
“Hit her harder,” said Dolly. “Don’t hurt her, you know, but you have to
shake people to make ’em come out of a faint.”
Dick thumped her on the back, and slily bent her arm up until she seemed
to be shaking her fist at them. The flowers tumbled to the floor, and
her other arm flew up above her head.
“Oh!” cried Pinkie, and ran farther away from the now
belligerent-looking lady.
“Oh!” cried Jack, catching on. Then, screaming with laughter, he seized
the lady’s hand shook it, crying, “How do you do, ma’am! How _do_ you
do? I’m _so_ glad to meet you!”
Pinkie was still mystified, so Dolly ushered her up to the lady, saying,
“Miss Pinkie Middleton ’low me to make you ’quainted with Lady Eliza
Dusenbury!”
Dick had taken off Eliza’s veil, and Pinkie at last realised what sort
of lady she was meeting.
“Oh, Dolly,” she cried, “where did you get her? Isn’t it fun! I think
she’s fine!”
“She’s great!” declared Jack. “You fooled me good, old Mr. Dick Dana!
What’s her name, did you say?”
“Lady Eliza Dusenbury,” said Dick, “but we call her Eliza, if we want
to. Let’s take her for a ride.”
They got the little express wagon that Dick and Dolly used to cart their
plants or flower-pots around the gardens in, and lifted Eliza in.
“She’ll have to stand up,” said Dolly, “because she can’t sit down.”
“All right,” said Jack, “we’ll tie her so she won’t upset.”
They fastened her iron pedestal, which served her instead of feet,
firmly to the wagon, and then proceeded to deck both vehicle and
passenger with flowers, till it looked like a float in a parade.
Dolly and Pinkie made a gilt paper crown, and wound gilt paper around a
long rod for a sceptre.
“Oh, let’s make her Queen of the Fairies!” cried Pinkie.
So the dress Eliza had on was changed for a white one. This was decked
with ribbons and garlands of flowers. Crown and wand were put in place,
and then the whole four combined their ingenuity to invent wings. At
last they were cut from thin pasteboard, and covered all over with
fringed white tissue paper. This fringe, about an inch wide, and cut
fine, was quickly made, and when pasted on in close rows, gave a lovely
fluffy appearance to the wings.
A gauzy white veil, spangled with gilt paper stars, floated down from
the crown, and the Queen of the Fairies presented a most delectable
appearance.
The express wagon was not good enough for this dream of beauty, so it
was made into a float, by placing some boards on top of it. This top was
neatly covered with a sheet and decked with flowers.
Then the Queen of the Fairies was raised to her triumphal car, and her
four willing subjects drew her about.
Long reins were made by cutting strips of white muslin, and these were
attached to four prancing little steeds, while the Queen held the ends
in her waxen hands. The cortège made a tour of the grounds, and drew up
finally at the house to exhibit their peerless Lady Eliza to the
aunties, who expressed heartfelt admiration.
“It’s the best plaything ever,” declared Jack, as he and Pinkie went
home. “We’ll be over to-morrow to play some more.”