Produced by Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders
MARJORIE'S NEW FRIEND
BY
CAROLYN WELLS
Author of the "Patty" Books
[Illustration: "'HERE'S THE BOOK', SAID MISS HART.... 'HOW MANY LEAVES
HAS IT!'"]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. A BOTHERSOME BAG
II. A WELCOME CHRISTMAS GIFT
III. MERRY CHRISTMAS!
IV. HAPPY NEW YEAR!
V. A TEARFUL TIME
VI. THE GOING OF GLADYS
VII. THE COMING OF DELIGHT
VIII. A VISIT TO CINDERELLA
IX. A STRAW-RIDE
X. MAKING VALENTINES
XI. MARJORIE CAPTIVE
XII. MISS HART HELPS
XIII. GOLDFISH AND KITTENS
XIV. A PLEASANT SCHOOL
XV. A SEA TRIP
XVI. A VALENTINE PARTY
XVII. A JINKS AUCTION
XVIII. HONEST CONFESSION
XIX. A VISIT FROM GLADYS
XX. CHESSY CATS
CHAPTER I
A BOTHERSOME BAG
"Mother, are you there?"
"Yes, Marjorie; what is it, dear?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to know. Is Kitty there?"
"No; I'm alone, except for Baby Rosy. Are you bothered?"
"Yes, awfully. Please tell me the minute Kitty comes. I want to see her."
"Yes, dearie. I wish I could help you."
"Oh, I _wish_ you could! You'd be just the one!"
This somewhat unintelligible conversation is explained by the fact that
while Mrs. Maynard sat by a table in the large, well-lighted living-room,
and Rosy Posy was playing near her on the floor, Marjorie was concealed
behind a large folding screen in a distant corner.
The four Japanese panels of the screen were adjusted so that they
enclosed the corner as a tiny room, and in it sat Marjorie, looking very
much troubled, and staring blankly at a rather hopeless-looking mass of
brocaded silk and light-green satin, on which she had been sewing. The
more she looked at it, and the more she endeavored to pull it into shape,
the more perplexed she became.
"I never saw such a thing!" she murmured, to herself. "You turn it
straight, and then it's wrong side out,--and then you turn it back, and
still it's wrong side out! I wish I could ask Mother about it!"
The exasperating silk affair was a fancy work-bag which Marjorie was
trying to make for her mother's Christmas present. And that her mother
should not know of the gift, which was to be a surprise, of course,
Marjorie worked on it while sitting behind the screen. It was a most
useful arrangement, for often Kitty, and, sometimes, even Kingdon, took
refuge behind its concealing panels, when making or wrapping up gifts for
each other that must not be seen until Christmas Day.
Indeed, at this hour, between dusk and dinner time, the screened off
corner was rarely unoccupied.
It was a carefully-kept rule that no one was to intrude if any one else
was in there, unless, of course, by invitation of the one in possession.
Marjorie did not like to sew, and was not very adept at it, but she had
tried very hard to make this bag neatly, that it might be presentable
enough for her mother to carry when she went anywhere and carried her
work.
So Midget had bought a lovely pattern of brocaded silk for the outside,
and a dainty pale green satin for the lining. She had seamed up the two
materials separately, and then had joined them at the top, thinking that
when she turned them, the bag would be neatly lined, and ready for the
introduction of a pretty ribbon that should gather it at the top. But,
instead, when she sewed her two bags together, they did not turn into
each other right at all. She had done her sewing with both bags wrong
side out, thinking they would turn in such a way as to conceal all the
seams. But instead of that, not only were all the seams on the outside,
but only the wrong sides of the pretty materials showed, and turn and
twist it as she would, Marjorie could not make it come right.
Her mother could have shown her where the trouble lay, but Marjorie
couldn't consult her as to her own surprise, so she sat and stared at the
exasperating bag until Kitty came.
"Come in here, Kit," called Midget, and Kitty carefully squeezed herself
inside the screen.
"What's the matter, Mopsy? Oh, is it Mother's--"
"Sh!" said Marjorie warningly, for Kitty was apt to speak out
thoughtlessly, and Mrs. Maynard was easily within hearing.
"I can't make it turn right," she whispered; "see if you can."
Kitty obligingly took the bag, but the more she turned and twisted it,
the more obstinately it refused to get right side out.
"You've sewed it wrong," she whispered back.
"I know that,--but what's the way to sew it right. I can't see where I
made the mistake."
"No, nor I. You'd think it would turn, wouldn't you?"
Kitty kept turning the bag, now brocaded side out, now lining side out,
but always the seams were outside, and the right side of the materials
invisible.
"I never saw anything so queer," said Kitty; "it's bewitched! Maybe King
could help us."
Kingdon had just come in, so they called him to the consultation.
"It is queer," he said, after the situation was noiselessly explained to
him. "It's just like my skatebag, that Mother made, only the seams of
that don't show."
"Go get it, King," said Marjorie hopefully. "Maybe I can get this right
then. Don't let Mother see it."
So King went for his skatebag, and with it stuffed inside his jacket,
returned to his perplexed sisters.
"No; I don't see how she did it," declared Marjorie, at last, after a
close inspection of the neatly-made bag, with all its seams properly out
of sight, and its material and lining both showing their right sides.
"I'll have to give it to her this way"
"You can't!" said Kitty, looking at the absurd thing.
"But what can I do, Kit? It's only a week till Christmas now, and I can't
begin anything else for Mother. I've lots of things to finish yet."
"Here's Father," said Kitty, as she heard his voice outside; "perhaps he
can fix it."
"Men don't know about fancy work," said Marjorie, but even as she spoke
hope rose in her heart, for Mr. Maynard had often proved knowing in
matters supposed to be outside his ken.
"Oh, Father, come in here, please; in behind the screen. You go out, King
and Kitty, so there'll be room."
Those invited to leave did so, and Mr. Maynard came in and smiled at his
eldest daughter's despairing face.
"What's the trouble, Mopsy midget? Oh, millinery? You don't expect me to
hemstitch, do you? What's that you're making, a young sofa-cushion?"
"Don't speak so loud, Father. It's a Christmas present I'm making for
Mother, and it won't go right. If you can't help me, I don't know what
I'll do. I've tried every way, but it's always wrong side out!"
"What a hateful disposition it must have! But what _is_ it?"
Marjorie put her lips to her father's ear, and whispered; "It's a bag; I
mean it's meant to be one, for Mother to carry to sewing society. I can
sew it well enough, but I can't make it get right side out!"
"Now, Mopsy, dear, you know I'd do anything in the world to help you that
I possibly can; but I'm afraid this is a huckleberry above my
persimmons!"
"But, Father, here's King's skatebag. Mother made it, and can't you see
by that how it's to go?"
"H'm,--let me see. I suppose if I must pull you out of this slough of
despond, I must. Now all these seams are turned in, and all yours are
outside."
"Yes; and how can we get them inside? There's no place to turn them to."
Mr. Maynard examined both bags minutely.
"Aha!" he said at last; "do you know how they put the milk in the
coconut, Marjorie?"
"No, sir."
"Well, neither do I. But I see a way to get these seams inside and let
your pretty silks put their best face foremost. Have you a pair of
scissors?"
"Yes, here they are."
Mr. Maynard deftly ripped a few stitches, leaving an opening of a couple
of inches in one of the seams of the lining. Through this opening he
carefully pulled the whole of both materials, thus reversing the whole
thing. When it had all come through, he pulled and patted it smooth, and,
behold! the bag was all as it should be, and there remained only the
tiny opening he had ripped in the lining to be sewed up again.
"That you must cat-stitch, or whatever you call it," he said, "as neatly
as you can. And it will never show, on a galloping horse on a dark
night."
"Blindstitch, you mean," said Marjorie; "yes, I can do that. Oh, Father,
how clever you are! How did you know how to do it?"
"Well, to be honest, I saw a similar place in the lining of the skate
bag. So I concluded that was the most approved way to make bags. Can you
finish it now?"
"Oh, yes; I've only to stitch a sort of casing and run a ribbon in for
the strings. Thank you lots, Father dear. You always help me out. But I
was afraid this was out of your line."
"It isn't exactly in my day's work, as a rule; but I'm always glad to
assist a fair lady in distress. Any other orders, mademoiselle?"
"Not to-night, brave sir. But you might call in, any time you're
passing."
"Suppose I should pop in when you're engaged on a token of regard and
esteem for my noble self?"
"No danger! Your Christmas present is all done and put away. I had
Mother's help on that."
"Well, then it's sure to be satisfactory. Then I will bid you adieu,
trusting to meet you again at dinner."
"All right," said Marjorie, who had neatly; blindstitched the little
ripped place, and was now making the casing for the ribbons.
By dinner time the bag was nearly done, and she went to the table with a
light heart, knowing that she could finish her mother's present that
evening.
"Who is the dinner for this year?" asked Mr. Maynard, as the family sat
round their own dinner table.
"Oh, the Simpsons," said Marjorie, in a tone of decision. "You know Mr.
Simpson is still in the hospital, and they're awfully poor."
It was the Maynards' habit to send, every Christmas, a generous dinner to
some poor family in the town, and this year the children had decided on
the Simpsons. In addition to the dinner, they always made up a box of
toys, clothing, and gifts of all sorts. These were not always entirely
new, but were none the less welcome for that.
"A large family, isn't it?" said Mr. Maynard.
"Loads of 'em," said King. "All ages and assorted sizes."
"Well, I'll give shoes and mittens all round, for my share. Mother, you
must look out for the dinner and any necessities that they need.
Children, you can make toys and candies for them! can't you?"
"Yes, indeed," said Marjorie; "we've lovely things planned. We're going
to paste pictures on wood, and King is going to saw them up into
picture-puzzles. And we're going to make scrap books, and dress dolls,
and heaps of things."
"And when are you going to take these things to them?"
"I think we'd better take them the day before Christmas," said Mrs.
Maynard. "Then Mrs. Simpson can prepare her turkey and such things over
night if she wants to. I'm sure she'd like it better than to have all the
things come upon her suddenly on Christmas morning."
"Yes, that's true," said Mr. Maynard. "And then we must find something to
amuse ourselves all day Christmas."
"I rather guess we can!" said King. "Well have our own tree Christmas
morning, and Grandma and Uncle Steve are coming, and if there's snow,
we'll have a sleigh-ride, and if there's ice, we'll have skating,--oh, I
just love Christmas!"
"So do I," said Marjorie. "And we'll have greens all over the house, and
wreaths tied with red ribbon,--"
"And mince pie and ice cream, both!" interrupted Kitty; "oh, won't it be
gorgeous!"
"And then no school for a whole week!" said Marjorie, rapturously. "More
than a week, for Christmas is on Thursday, so New Year's Day's on
Thursday, too, and we have vacation on that Friday, too."
"But Christmas and New Year's Day don't come on the same day of the week
this year, Marjorie," said her father.
"They don't! Why, Father, they _always_ do! It isn't leap year, is it?"
"Ho, Mops, leap year doesn't matter," cried King. "Of course, they always
come on the same day of the week. What do you mean, Father?"
"I mean just what I say; that Christmas Day and New Year's Day do not
fall on the same day of the week this year."
"Why, Daddy, you're crazy!" said Marjorie, "Isn't Christmas coming on
Thursday?"
"Yes, my child."
"Well, isn't New Year's Day the following Thursday?"
"Yes, but that's _next_ year. New Year's Day of _this_ year was nearly
twelve months ago and was on Wednesday."
"Oh, Father, what a sell! of course I meant this _winter_."
"Well, you didn't say so. You said this _year_."
"It's a good joke," said King, thinking it over. "I'll fool the boys with
it, at school."
The Maynards were a busy crowd during the short week that intervened
before Christmas.
From Mr. Maynard, who was superintending plans for his own family and for
many beneficiaries, down to the cook, who was making whole shelves full
of marvelous dainties, everybody was hurrying and skurrying from morning
till night.
The children had completed their gifts for their parents and for each
other, and most of them were already tied in dainty tissue papers and
holly ribbons awaiting the festal day.
Now they were making gifts for the poor family of Simpsons, and they
seemed to enjoy it quite as much as when making the more costly presents
for each other.
Marjorie came home from school at one o'clock, and as Mrs. Maynard had
said she needn't practise her music any more until after the holidays,
she had all her afternoons and the early part of the evenings to work at
the Christmas things.
She was especially clever with scissors and paste, and made lovely
scrap-books by cutting large double leaves of heavy brown paper. On these
she pasted post-cards or other colored pictures, also little verses or
stories cut from the papers. Eight of these sheets were tied together by
a bright ribbon at the back, and made a scrap-book acceptable to any
child. Then, Marjorie loved to dress paper dolls. She bought a dozen of
the pretty ones that have movable arms and feet, and dressed them most
picturesquely in crinkled paper and lace paper. She made little hats,
cloaks and muffs for them, and the dainty array was a fine addition to
the Simpson's box.
Kitty, too, made worsted balls for the Simpson babies, and little lace
stockings, worked around with worsted, which were to be filled with
candies.
With Mrs. Maynard's help, they dressed a doll for each Simpson girl, and
King sawed out a picture puzzle for each Simpson boy.
Then, a few days before Christmas they all went to work and made candies.
They loved to do this, and Mrs. Maynard thought home-made confectionery
more wholesome than the bought kind. So they spent one afternoon, picking
out nuts and seeding raisins, and making all possible beforehand
preparations, and the next day they made the candy. As they wanted enough
for their own family as well as the Simpsons, the quantity, when
finished, was rather appalling.
Pan after pan of cream chocolates, coconut balls, caramels, cream dates,
cream nuts, and chocolate-dipped dainties of many sorts filled the
shelves in the cold pantry.
And Marjorie also made some old-fashioned molasses candy with peanuts in
it, because it was a favorite with Uncle Steve.
The day before Christmas the children were all allowed to stay home from
school, for in the morning they were to pack the Christmas box for the
Simpsons and, in the afternoon, take it to them.