LITTLE FLOWER GIRLS
In the hot room, high up under the eaves of the little brown house,
Peace sobbed out her anguish of soul, and then faced the problem of
shoes with a dauntless spirit.
"We'll _have_ to have new ones when school begins again, and if we could
just get some of these canvas things to wear during the summer, our old
ones would last quite a while longer. Mercy, where does the money go?
Seems as if there never was any to buy things we need with. Wish my
tramp would come back and leave us another bill. Wish--why didn't I
think of that before? The woods are full of flowers yet. I'll get Hope
and Cherry to help me make a lot of birch bark baskets and then Allee
and me will sell them in the city. My tramp said lots of folks would buy
them if they got a chance. Oh, Cherry, let's go down to the creek and
get some more bark. Tomorrow's Sunshine Club day and we will take Miss
Dunbar some baskets for her flowers."
Glad to distract Peace's thoughts from her great woe, Cherry agreed, and
the two made a hurried trip to the woods for material, getting not only
a big armful of bark, but also quite a bunch of moccasin flowers and
tiger lilies, which they had chanced upon in an unexpected nook.
"These will be lovely for tomorrow, and ought to sell better than the
violets would, 'cause they aren't so common," said Peace, as she looked
lovingly down at the mass of red, gold and pink.
"Ought to what?" asked Cherry.
"Oh, dear, what have I said?" thought Peace in dismay; but quickly
concealing her confusion, she replied, "They ought to look nice--make
better dec'rations, 'cause these are the first I've seen this year."
"Oh! I thought you said _sell_, and I wondered if you thought Miss
Dunbar would pay us for them."
"Oh, mercy, no!" laughed Peace, and Cherry questioned no further.
But she would have been surprised had she seen this young sister
stealing out of the house the next morning with baskets and flowers in
her arms, headed in the opposite direction from Miss Dunbar's village
home. Once out of sight of the house, Peace broke into a wild run and
never stopped until the old stone bridge was reached. Here Allee was
waiting for her--a queer little figure in a faded blue gown of long,
long ago, hatless, barefooted, but looking oh, so sweet, with her
sparkling blue eyes and her mop of tangled yellow curls crowned with a
wreath of fragrant clover blossoms. "How long you've been!" she greeted
Peace. "I thought you would never come. Where's Cherry?"
"I came as soon as I could," was the panting reply, as Peace dropped her
burden on the grass and smoothed out a rumpled pink dress of as ancient
a style as Allee's. "I had to help with the dishes, and then Faith made
me take the milk to Abbott's so's Hope could do something for her. I
didn't want Cherry. It takes such a long time to knock any sense into
her head that we never would get into town today if she had to be
coaxed. Besides, I thought if there were three of us, folks might think
the whole family was out peddling, and maybe wouldn't buy like they
would of just two. There, don't those boats look lovely? The only thing
is, our basket won't hold as many as I hoped it would. I couldn't jam in
but fifteen. That will be enough, though, if we can sell them at ten
cents each. Oh, I've got a scheme! We will lay our flowers in the basket
on the moss and hitch these horns on our dresses. I've got as many as
ten pins in my dress which I don't need for anything else." While she
spoke she emptied the birch bark boats of their brilliant cargo again,
and deftly pinned the quaint devices to their gowns, so they dangled
fantastically from their ribbon handles.
"Now are we ready?" asked Allee, as the last flower was tucked carefully
away in its bed of moss, and covered over with newspapers.
"Yes, and well have to hurry or miss the car. It's quite a ways through
the woods to the track. I wish they would run clear into Parker, don't
you?"
They scrambled down the bank of the creek and scurried away through the
trees to the little clearing where the city cars stopped at the end of
the line.
"There's a car just ready to start," panted Peace, and she waved her
hand frantically at the conductor who was lustily shouting, "All
aboard!" and jangling the bell to hurry up any belated passengers.
"Nearly missed it, didn't you, kids?" he said genially, as they
clambered up the steps and the car moved slowly away toward the city.
"Yes," breathed the older girl, settling her luggage on the seat and
sitting down beside it. "I am very glad you waited for us. We're anxious
to get down town while our flowers are fresh."
"Going to sell 'em?"
"Yes. You better buy a basketful. You can have a horn or a boat, and
choose your own kind of flowers. We've got pink and yellow
lady's-slippers, tiger lilies, Johnny-jump-ups, baby's tears, and a few
Jack-in-the-pulpits."
As she made her explanation, she drew aside the paper protecting her
precious blossoms, and the man exclaimed in delight, "The woods! My,
aren't they scrumptious? I'll take a boat. What is your price?"
"Ten cents."
"Ten cents? Why, child, that isn't enough! Here's a quarter. Gimme
lady's-slippers. And say, the motorman would like one, too. He's got a
girl. Give him something swell--a little of everything. There, that's
right! Stick a tiger lily right in the middle and plaster up the edges
like you did mine. Whee! ain't that gorgeous? I'll bring you the dough
right away." Snatching up the mass of vivid colors, he dashed up the
length of the car, thrust his head into the motorman's vestibule, and
after a moment's conversation came back and dropped a half-dollar into
Peace's trembling hand, saying, "That's his contribution. It's worth it.
Why, there ain't a florist in the city who can show such beauties!"
"Mercy!" exclaimed the bewildered Peace, looking at her money and trying
to figure out how much more was needed for her wants. "That means a pair
of shoes and one over. Why, Allee, if everybody would just pay like
that, we will get through quick, won't we? But I 'xpect lots of 'em will
try to make us take only a nickel. Just s'posing we get enough money to
buy shoes for the whole family! Wouldn't they be s'prised? Thank you,
Mister Conductor, and thank the motorman, too. We would like to know his
girl. Does she ever ride on his car and do you s'pose he would bring
her over to play with us some day? We'd meet her at the end of the line.
Or maybe she is too big for us."
The conductor laughed in boyish delight, "Yes, I am afraid she is too
big. In fact, she is quite a lady--" Here the car stopped for
passengers, and their new friend went out on the platform where he
stayed most of the time until they reached the heart of the city. But as
he helped them off the car at the busy corner nearest Cameron's Shoe
Store, he said, "If I was you, I would go right over there in the door
of that big building. I think you can sell all the flowers you have."
So they took up their stand as he had suggested, and waited for
customers; but though many passers-by idly wondered at the odd little
figures so overhung with birch bark trifles, no one stopped to inquire
their business until a big, burly policeman, who had been watching the
wistful, almost frightened little faces, strolled up to them and kindly
asked, "Are you lost, little girls?"
"No, sir," promptly responded Peace, jerking aside the cover of her
basket and briskly beginning to fill one of the birch bark canoes
hitched to Allee's dress. "We are selling flowers. Would you like a
chance to buy some that grew in the real woods? We've got money enough
now for three shoes, but we need three more to have enough to go around.
They are only ten cents each unless you want to pay more, but we won't
sell them for a nickel."
Seeing the blue-coated officer talking with such odd little waifs, a
crowd had quickly gathered about the trio, and a host of friendly voices
echoed the policeman's hearty laugh at the jumbled recital.
"I'll take one," shouted a fashionably dressed man, elbowing his way to
the front. "Give me a horn and fill it up with those little pansies. I
haven't seen any of them since I was a kid."
"Those are Johnny-jump-ups," responded Peace gravely, detaching a horn
from Allee's gown and heaping it up with the tiny flowers. "It's ten
cents or more."
He laughed. "How much does 'or more' mean?"
"Much as you think they're worth. They came from the woods, you know."
"And you think that makes them more valuable--worth more, I mean?" And
he dropped a shining dollar into the small, brown hand.
"Oh, yes! City folks can't often get wild flowers, my tramp says, and
they ought to be glad for a chance to pay high for them."
The crowd shouted, and the policeman ventured to ask, "So you think lots
of the woods, do you?"
"You bet!" was the emphatic reply. "It's next best to heaven. Just
s'posing the whole world was made up of these great, high, dirty
houses, without any woods or flowers or trees anywhere. Wouldn't it be
dreadful?" The dismal picture she painted was singularly effective, and
other purchasers gathered around, clamoring for her wares.
"I will give you a dime for one of those pink lady's-slippers," said a
bent, old man.
"Here's a quarter for a spray of those white blossoms," another voice
broke in; and very quickly the fresh, beautiful, woodland flowers
changed hands, while the pile of coins in Peace's lap grew amazingly.
A little, ragged, wan-looking bootblack edged through the crowd, and
stood with wistful eyes fixed on the rapidly diminishing bouquets,
drinking in their beauty, and wishing with all his heart that one of
them might be his. He fingered the few pennies in his pocket longingly,
and finally, unable to curb his desire longer, he touched Peace's arm
and timidly faltered, "Say, lady, will ye gimme one o' them red fellers
for a cent? I--I'd like one mighty well, and I ain't got no more money
to spare."
Peace lifted her big eyes to the pale, drawn, wistful face of the boy,
possibly as old as Cherry, but no older, and a great wave of pity swept
through her heart. "You can have it for nothing. Here, take this whole
bunch," she said, emptying her basket and thrusting the last handful of
gorgeous bloom into his trembling hands. "I am sorry all the birch bark
is gone, but I am sold out. You haven't any shoes, either. Cameron's are
selling canvas shoes today at forty-nine cents a pair. We've got lots
more'n enough money for Cherry and Allee and me--you can have this to
get yourself some with." And before her interested audience could
realize what she was doing, she had selected a silver dollar from the
jingling mass in her apron, and pressed it into the bootblack's grimy
fist, while he stood like one turned to stone, staring at the money,
unable to believe his senses. Then he took a step toward the little
flower girl, but a gentleman in the throng, deeply touched by the
unusual scene, said, "Keep it, sonny, and thank the good God for such
sweet spirits as hers. Here is another dollar to keep it company. Better
run home now and take a little vacation. You are sick."
Then how the men cheered! And to Peace's utter bewilderment, one tall,
dignified old gentleman, whose face looked strangely familiar, slipped a
shining gold coin into her hand and another into Allee's, saying
reverently, "For the Peace which passeth understanding!"
She sat in puzzled silence for a moment, gazing first at the glittering
heap in her lap, and then at the sea of friendly faces about her, while
the crowd waited in curious expectancy to hear what she had to say. Her
lips opened once or twice as if to speak, then closed again; but at last
she said simply, "You've paid lots better'n I thought you would, and
not a single once has anyone tried to buy a boat for a nickel. I--I wish
we could have brought you the whole woods, birds and all. You would have
liked it better. I b'lieve I said 'thank you' to every one who has
bought any flowers, but if I did forget, Allee hasn't. That was to be
her part--just to say 'thank you,' so folks would know we had some
manners and were glad to have you buy. But somehow, it feels
here"--putting her hand over her heart--"as if that wasn't enough, and
so we will sing you a little song--that is, Allee will sing, and I'll
whistle. I can't really sing anything, Faith says, 'cept the tune the
old cow died on. But Mike taught me how to whistle, and our minister
says I do real well for a girl. I tried to think of some thankful song
to sing, but I can't remember a one just now, so we'll sing a lullabye.
Are you ready, Allee?"
"Yes."
"Then begin!" Peace puckered her rosy lips, Allee opened her baby mouth,
and this is the song they sang:
"Baby-bye, bye-oh-bye,
Baby-bye, baby-bye,
Mother's darling, don't you cry,
Close your eyes for night is nigh;
Baby-bye, oh, baby,
Baby-bye, oh, bye."
"Amen," said Peace reverently. "Now we are going to Cameron's Shoe Store
for canvas shoes. What size do you s'pose a girl two years older'n I
would wear? I forgot to ask Cherry."
"The clerk will know," suggested someone; and the crowd went their
separate ways with smiles on their lips, while the two odd, childish
figures trudged around the corner to Cameron's Shoe Store to make their
important purchases. An obliging young man fitted the little feet with
the precious canvas slippers, and sent them away rejoicing with a pair
for Cherry, promising to exchange them for others if they failed to fit.
"Now we'll go home," said Peace, as they stepped out onto the sidewalk
again. "Won't Gail and Faith be s'prised? I guess we've got 'most money
enough left to get shoes for the whole family after all. Well, sir, if
they haven't changed those cars since we went into the shoe store! We
came down on a big yellow one that said, 'Twentieth Avenue North' on it,
and here they are running two little bits of cars hitched together that
say, 'Onion Depot!'" Peace employed the phonetic method of pronouncing
words, and to her young eyes u-n-i-o-n was easily _onion_.
"What are you going to do about it?" asked puzzled Allee.
"Sit down here on the sidewalk and wait till they change them back
again," was the reply; and Peace plumped herself down in a bunch on the
curbing to watch for the yellow car which did not come. One hour dragged
by,--two, three. Allee was getting restless. Dinner hour had long since
passed, and she was very hungry. "It's getting pretty late, I guess,"
she ventured at last. "When do you s'pose the car will come?"
"I s'pect there's been a fire somewhere and stopped it. That happened
once when Gail was in town."
"Maybe we better start to walk, then," quavered the little voice. "I am
tired of sitting here, and Gail will fret if we don't come pretty
quick."
"Well, perhaps we better--"
"Peace Greenfield! What on earth are you doing here?"
The two children flew to their feet with a cry of relief, "Oh, Mrs.
Grinnell, our car is never coming!"
"No, I guess it won't on these tracks," she replied grimly, guessing
from the children's appearance something of the truth. "Does your mother
or Gail know you are here? Pile in and ride home with me. Like as not
your folks are half crazy with fright."
So the weary duet climbed thankfully into the buggy and were driven
safely back to Parker, where they were met by four white-faced sisters
and a swarm of anxious neighbors.
"Got shoes for the whole outfit!" cried Peace by way of greeting; "and
if Cherry's don't fit, the clerk said bring 'em back and he'd change
'em. We've sold all our flowers, and one man gave each of us some funny
yellow quarters--or I guess they are half dollars. It says on one side,
'Five D.' and I suppose that means five dimes, doesn't it? Why, Gail,
what are you crying for? I sh'd think you'd laugh to think there are
three pair of shoes already bought, and money enough for the rest of
you."