THE FLOWER PARTY.
I DARE say some of you think Nettie Decker was a very silly girl to
care so much because her dress was a blue and white gingham instead of
being all white.
You have told your friend Katie about the story and asked her if she
didn't think it was real silly to make such an ado over _clothes_; you
have said you were sure you would just as soon wear a blue gingham
as not if it was clean and neat. But now let me venture a hint. I
shouldn't be surprised if that was because you never do have to go to
places differently dressed from all the others. Because if you did,
you would know that it was something of a trial. Oh! I don't say it
is the hardest thing in the world; or that one is all ready to die as
a martyr who does it; but what I _do_ say is, that it takes a little
moral courage; and, for one, I am not surprised that Nettie looked
very sober about it when the afternoon came.
It took her a good while to dress; not that there was so much to be
done, but she stopped to think. With her hair in her neck, still
unbraided, she pinned a lovely pink rose at her breast just to see how
pretty it would look for a minute. Miss Sherrill had left it for her to
wear; but she did not intend to wear it, because she thought it would
not match well with her gingham dress. Just here, I don't mind owning
that I think her silly; because I believe that sweet flowers go with
sweet pure young faces, whether the dress is of gingham or silk.
But Nettie looked grave, as I said, and wished it was over; and tried
to plan for the hundredth time, how it would all be. The girls, Cecelia
Lester and Lorena Barstow and the rest of them, would be out in their
elegant toilets, and would look at her so! That Ermina Farley would be
there; she had seen her but once, on the first Sunday, and liked her
face and her ways a little better than the others; but she had been
away since then. Jerry said she was back, however, and Mrs. Smith said
they were the richest folks in town; and of course Ermina would be
elegantly dressed at the flower party.
Well, she did not care. She was willing to have them all dressed
beautifully; she was not mean enough to want them to wear gingham
dresses, if only they would not make fun of hers. Oh! if she could
_only_ stay at home, and help iron, and get supper, and fry some
potatoes nicely for father, how happy she would be. Then she sighed
again, and set about braiding her hair. She meant to go, but she could
not help being sorry for herself to think it must be done; and she
spent a great deal of trouble in trying to plan just how hateful it
would all be; how the girls would look, and whisper, and giggle; and
how her cheeks would burn. Oh dear!
Then she found it was late, and had to make her fingers fly, and to
rush about the little woodhouse chamber which was still her room, in a
way which made Sarah Ann say to her mother with a significant nod, "I
guess she's woke up and gone at it, poor thing!" Yes, she had; and was
down in fifteen minutes more.
Oh! but didn't the little girls look pretty! Nettie forgot her trouble
for a few minutes, in admiring them when she had put the last touches
to their toilet. Susie was to be in a tableau where she would need a
dolly, and Miss Sherrill had furnished one for the occasion. A lovely
dolly with real hair, and blue eyes, and a bright blue sash to match
them; and when Susie got it in her arms, there came such a sweet,
softened look over her face that Nettie hardly knew her. The sturdy
voice, too, which was so apt to be fierce, softened and took a motherly
tone; the dolly was certainly educating Susie. Little Sate looked
on, interested, pleased, but without the slightest shade of envy.
She wanted no dolly; or, if she did, there was a little black-faced,
worn, rag one reposing at this moment in the trundle bed where little
Sate's own head would rest at night; kissed, and caressed, and petted,
and told to be good until mamma came back; this dolly had all of
Sate's warm heart. For the rest, the grave little old women in caps
and spectacles, which wound about her dress, crept up in bunches on
her shoulders, lay in nestling heaps at her breast, filled all Sate's
thoughts. She seemed to have become a little old woman herself, so
serious and womanly was her face.
Nettie took a hand of each, and they went to the flower festival. There
was to be a five o'clock tea for all the elderly people of the church,
and the tables, some of them, were set in Mr. Eastman's grounds, which
adjoined the church. When Nettie entered these grounds she found
a company of girls several years younger than herself, helping to
decorate the tables with flowers; at least that was their work, but as
Nettie appeared at the south gate, a queer little object pushed in at
the west side. A child not more than six years old, with a clean face,
and carefully combed hair, but dressed in a plain dark calico; and her
pretty pink toes were without shoes or stockings.
[Illustration: AT THE FLOWER PARTY.]
I am not sure that if a little wolf had suddenly appeared before them,
it could have caused more exclamations of astonishment and dismay.
"Only look at that child!" "The idea!" "Just to think of such a thing!"
were a few of the exclamations with which the air was thick. At last,
one bolder than the rest, stepped towards her: "Little girl, where did
you come from? What in the world do you want here?"
Startled by the many eyes and the sharp tones, the small new-comer hid
her face behind an immense bunch of glowing hollyhocks, which she held
in her hand, and said not a word. Then the chorus of voices became
more eager:
"Do look at her hollyhocks! Did ever anybody see such a queer little
fright! Girls, I do believe she has come to the party." Then the one
who had spoken before, tried again: "See here, child, whoever you are,
you must go right straight home; this is no place for you. I wonder
what your mother was about--if you have one--to let you run away
barefooted, and looking like a fright."
Now the barefooted maiden was thoroughly frightened, and sobbed
outright. It was precisely what Nettie Decker needed to give her
courage. When she came in at the gate, she had felt like shrinking away
from all eyes; now she darted an indignant glance at the speaker, and
moved quickly toward the crying child, Susie and Sate following close
behind.
"Don't cry, little girl," she said in the gentlest tones, stooping and
putting an arm tenderly around the trembling form; "you haven't done
anything wrong; Miss Sherrill will be here soon, and she will make it
all right."
Thus comforted, the tears ceased, and the small new-comer allowed her
hand to be taken; while Susie came around to her other side, and
scowled fiercely, as though to say: "I'll protect this girl myself;
let's see you touch her now!"
A burst of laughter greeted Nettie as soon as she had time to give heed
to it. Others had joined the groups, among them Lorena Barstow and
Irene Lewis. "What's all this?" asked Irene.
"O, nothing," said one; "only that Decker girl's sister, or cousin, or
something has just arrived from Cork, and come in search of her. Lorena
Barstow, did you ever see such a queer-looking fright?"
"I don't see but they look a good deal alike," said Lorena, tossing her
curls; "I'm sure their dresses correspond; is she a sister?"
"Why, no," answered one of the smaller girls; "those two cunning little
things in white are Nettie Decker's sisters; I think they are real
sweet."
"Oh!" said Lorena, giving them a disagreeable stare, "in white, are
they? The unselfish older sister has evidently cut up her nightgowns to
make them white dresses for this occasion."
"Lorena," said the younger girl, "if I were you I would be ashamed;
mother would not like you to talk in that way."
"Well, you see Miss Nanie, you are not me, therefore you cannot tell
what you would be, or do; and I want to inform you it is not your
business to tell me what mother would like."
Imagine Nettie Decker standing quietly, with the barefooted child's
small hand closely clasped in hers, listening to all this! There was a
pretense of lowered voices, yet every word was distinct to her ears.
Her heart beat fast and she began to feel as though she really was
paying quite a high price for the possibility of getting Norm into the
church parlor for a few minutes that evening.
At that moment, through the main gateway, came Ermina Parley, a colored
man with her, bearing a basket full of such wonderful roses, that for a
minute the group could only exclaim over them. Ermina was in white, but
her dress was simply made, and looked as though she might not be afraid
to tumble about on the grass in it; her shoes were thick, and the blue
sash she wore, though broad and handsome, had some way a quiet air of
fitness for the occasion, which did not seem to belong to most of the
others. She watched the disposal of her roses, then gave an inquiring
glance about the grounds as she said, "What are you all doing here?"
"We are having a tableau," said Lorena Barstow. "Look behind you, and
you will see the Misses Bridget and Margaret Mulrooney, who have just
arrived from ould Ireland shure."
Most of the thoughtless girls laughed, mistaking this rudeness for wit,
but Ermina turned quickly and caught her first glimpse of Nettie's
burning face; then she hastened toward her.
"Why, here is little Prudy, after all," she said eagerly; "I coaxed her
mother to let her come, but I didn't think she would. Has Miss Sherrill
seen her? I think she will make such a cunning Roman flower-girl, in
that tableau, you know. Her face is precisely the shape and style of
the little girls we saw in Rome last winter. Poor little girlie, was
she frightened? How kind you were to take care of her. She is a real
bright little thing. I want to coax her into Sunday-school if I can.
Let us go and ask Miss Sherrill what she thinks about the flower-girl."
How fast Ermina Farley could talk! She did not wait for replies. The
truth was, Nettie's glowing cheeks, and Susie's fierce looks, told her
the story of trial for somebody else besides the Roman flower-girl; she
could guess at things which might have been said before she came. She
wound her arm familiarly about Nettie's waist as she spoke, and drew
her, almost against her will, across the lawn. "My!" said Irene Lewis.
"How good we are!"
"Birds of a feather flock together," quoted Lorena Barstow. "I think
that barefooted child and her protector look alike."
"Still," said Irene, "you must remember that Ermina Farley has joined
that flock; and her feathers are very different."
"Oh! that is only for effect," was the naughty reply, with another toss
of the rich curls.
Now what was the matter with all these disagreeable young people? Did
they really attach so much importance to the clothes they wore as to
think no one was respectable who was not dressed like them? Had they
really no hearts, so that it made no difference to them how deeply they
wounded poor Nettie Decker?
I do not think it was quite either of these things. They had been, so
far in their lives, unfortunate, in that they had heard a great deal
about dress, and style, until they had done what young people and a
few older ones are apt to do, attached too much importance to these
things. They were neither old enough, nor wise enough, to know that
it is a mark of a shallow nature to judge of people by the clothes
they wear; then, in regard to the ill-natured things said, I tell
you truly, that even Lorena Barstow was ashamed of herself. When her
younger sister reproved her, the flush which came on her cheek was not
all anger, much of it was shame. But she had taught her tongue to say
so many disagreeable words, and to pride itself on its independence in
saying what she pleased, that the habit asserted itself, and she could
not seem to control it. The contrast between her own conduct and Ermina
Farley's struck her so sharply and disagreeably it served only to make
her worse than before; precisely the effect which follows when people
of uncontrolled tempers find themselves rebuked.
Half-way down the lawn the party in search of Miss Sherrill met her
face to face. Her greeting was warm. "Oh! here is my dear little
grandmother. Thank you, Nettie, for coming; I look to you for a great
deal of help. Why, Ermina, what wee mousie have you here?"
"She is a little Roman flower-girl, Miss Sherrill; they live on
Parker street. Her mother is a nice woman; my mother has her to
run the machine. I coaxed her to let Trudie wear her red dress and
come barefoot, until you would see if she would do for the Roman
flower-girl. Papa says her face is very Roman in style, and she always
makes us think of the flower-girls we saw there. I brought my Roman
sash to dress her in, if you thought well of it; she is real bright,
and will do just as she is told."
"It is the very thing," said Miss Sherrill with a pleased face; "I am
so glad you thought of it. And the hollyhocks are just red enough to go
in the basket. Did you think of them too?"
"No, ma'am; mamma did. She said the more red flowers we could mass
about her, the better for a Roman peasant."
"It will be a lovely thing," said Miss Sherrill. Then she stooped and
kissed the small brown face, which was now smiling through its tears.
"You have found good friends, little one. She is very small to be here
alone. Ermina, will you and Nettie take care of her this afternoon, and
see that she is happy?"
"Yes'm," said Ermina promptly. "Nettie was taking care of her when I
came. She was afraid at first, I think."
"They were ugly to her," volunteered Susie, "they were just as ugly to
her as they could be; they made her cry. If they'd done it to Sate I
would have scratched them and bit them."
"Oh," said Miss Sherrill sorrowfully. "How sorry I am to hear it; then
Susie would have been naughty too, and it wouldn't have made the others
any better; in fact, it would have made them worse."
"I don't care," said Susie, but she did care. She said that, just
as you do sometimes, when you mean you care a great deal, and don't
want to let anybody know it. For the first time, Susie reflected
whether it was a good plan to scratch and bite people who did not, in
her judgment, behave well. It had not been a perfect success in her
experience, she was willing to admit that; and if it made Miss Sherrill
sorry, it was worth thinking about.
Well, that afternoon which began so dismally, blossomed out into a
better time than Nettie had imagined it possible for her to have. To
be sure those particular girls who had been the cause of her sorrow,
would have nothing to do with her; and whispered, and sent disdainful
glances her way when they had an opportunity; but Nettie went in their
direction as little as possible, and when she did was in such a hurry
that she sometimes forgot all about them. Miss Sherrill, who was
chairman of the committee of entertainment, kept her as busy as a bee
the entire afternoon; running hither and thither, carrying messages to
this one, and pins to that one, setting this vase of flowers at one
end, and that lovely basket at another, and, a great deal of the time,
standing right beside Miss Sherrill herself, handing her, at call,
just what she needed when she dressed the girls with their special
flowers. She could hear the bright pleasant talk which passed between
Miss Sherrill and the other young ladies. She was often appealed too
with a pleasant word. Her own teacher smiled on her more than once, and
said she was the handiest little body who had ever helped them; and
all the time that lovely Ermina Farley with her beautiful hair, and
her pretty ways, and her sweet low voice, was near at hand, joining
in everything which she had to do. To be sure she heard, in one of
her rapid scampers across the lawn, this question asked in a loud
tone by Lorena Barstow: "I wonder how much they pay that girl for
running errands? Maybe she will earn enough to get herself a new white
nightgown to wear to parties;" but at that particular minute, Ermina
Farley running from another direction on an errand precisely like her
own, bumped up against her with such force that their noses ached; then
both stopped to laugh merrily, and some way, what with the bump, and
the laughter, Nettie forgot to cry, when she had a chance, over the
unkind words. Then, later in the afternoon, came Jerry; and in less
than five minutes he joined their group, and made himself so useful
that when Mr. Sherrill came presently for boys to go with him to the
chapel to arrange the tables, Miss Sherrill said in low tones, "Don't
take Jerry please, we need him here." Nettie heard it, and beamed her
satisfaction. Also she heard Irene Lewis say, "Now they've taken that
Irish boy into their crowd--shouldn't you think Ermina Farley would be
ashamed!"
Then Nettie's face fairly paled. It is one thing to be insulted
yourself; it is another to stand quietly by and see your friends
insulted. She was almost ready to appeal to Miss Sherrill for
protection from tongues. But Jerry heard the same remark, and laughed;
not in a forced way, but actually as though it was very amusing to him.
And almost immediately he called out something to Ermina, using an
unmistakable Irish brogue. What was the use in trying to protect a boy
who was so indifferent as that?