EASTER EGGS
“One rainy Saturday is liable to be followed by another,” said Winnie
to Joanne as she was waiting for the latter to get ready for a meeting
of the Sunflower Troop, “so I don’t think we’d better count on that
trip to the country yet a while. Moreover, next Sunday will be Easter
and we must do something for the good of humanity between whiles.”
“What are we supposed to do?” inquired Joanne, pausing in the act of
adjusting her hat.
“Something orphanly, I imagine. We generally take them on at such
times. I hope you’re not going to weep this week because the country
trip is deferred.”
“You hush!” Joanne pounded Winnie with a pretense of wrath. “Of course
I shall not. My point of view has moved several inches in the past
few days, so I have leaped far beyond the weepy stage, I hope. The
next thing I have to look out for is pertness. I can be awfully sassy,
Winnie.”
“I don’t doubt it,” returned Winnie with a grin, “but don’t you hate a
pert miss?”
“Oh, dear, do you suppose any one ever called me that?”
“Very likely,” replied Winnie jauntily; she was nothing if not candid.
“Oh, dear,” sighed Joanne again. “The war is over but the
reconstruction stage isn’t and I see where I’ve got to keep up
the fight. I certainly do hate pertness, but also do I despise
milk-and-wateriness.”
“One doesn’t have to be insipid and cringing to be perfectly respectful
and courteous,” responded Winnie. “For example, do you consider Claudia
a meechin person?”
“Far be it from me to say so.”
“Did you ever know her to be anything but courteous and gracious?”
“Well, no-o,” Joanne admitted.
“Then, take back the pertness thou gavest, what is its smartness to
me?” Winnie sang.
“Oh, Win!”
“I win, you win, we both win. Come on if you’re ready.” And off they
went, arriving a little late but just in time for squad formation.
Miss Dodge had gone off on an Easter holiday, so her lieutenant, Miss
Chesney, was in charge. She was a dark-eyed, alert little person,
active and cheery, and the girls all liked her. When the meeting
had arrived at the point of discussing Easter gifts she made the
announcement: “We talked it over at the last Court of Honor and we
think that eggs for our special orphans will be the best thing we can
decide upon. Can each of you contribute two eggs?”
“Sugar, colored or just plain raw?” inquired Winnie.
“Plain raw, I think. Why can’t we have a coloring party? You might
bring the eggs to my house and we’ll dye them there. Can you do that?”
“Yes, indeed,” came in a chorus.
“Saturday morning, then.”
This was agreed upon and then the girls fell to discussing the subjects
most interesting to them and finally played games till it was time to
separate and go home.
“If we could only get eggs direct from the country maybe we could get
them cheaper and could bring more than two apiece,” said Claudia.
“Counting the two patrols we’d have less than forty eggs and we should
have about fifty, four dozen, we’ll say.”
“But who would know where to go for them?” said Virgie. “I don’t
believe any of the country people we could reach would sell them any
cheaper than we could get them in town, and there would be all the
bother of going after them.”
“Oh,” spoke up Joanne, “I wonder if we couldn’t get them from Mrs.
Clover. She has lots and lots of hens and she is so far out of town
that I don’t believe she sends her eggs all the way in, and I doubt
if they give her city prices at the country store. Besides she is the
kindest thing and if she knew they were for the orphans she wouldn’t
stick on the highest price, and you all know what the highest price is
these days.”
“Good scheme, Jo,” cried Winnie. “Can you find out all about it, how
much they’d be and how we can get them?”
“I think so. Perhaps they could be sent down on a canal boat. I’ll
talk to Cousin Ned about it. I’ll write him a note and leave it at his
apartment on my way home, then he’s sure to get it when he comes in. I
never know just when to catch him, so I’ll tell him to call me up.”
With this plan in view she went into the big schoolroom, where at her
desk she wrote her note which ran this way:
“DEAR AND BLESSED COUSIN NED,
“I want to talk to you about eggs just as soon as possible. Will you
please call me up at the very first oportunity you have after you get
home and oblige
“your devoted Cousin Joanne.”
She showed the note to Winnie into whose eyes came a little twinkle of
amusement. “Now what’s the matter?” asked Joanne in a resigned tone.
“You don’t spell opportunity with one p but with two, and Jo, dear, you
do write the scan’lousest fist, so childish, as if you’d just passed
beyond pot-hooks and loops.”
“Well,” began Joanne protestingly, “he’ll know what I mean and that’s
the main thing, besides I don’t care. I have just begun, really,
for I hate to write, and never have done more than I could help. My
governesses never insisted upon my writing out things as they do here
at school. Then, too, lots of clever people write atrociously.”
“That’s not the point, you blessed little goose. I’ll tell you
something, make a confession, as it were. I used to feel just as you do
till I had to write Miss Dodge a note, and when she saw how fearfully
I muddled it she asked me what was the idea, and I answered much as
you have done. Then she asked, ‘Don’t you want to write like a perfect
lady?’ or words to that effect. That gave me a jog and I began to open
my eyes. ‘You see,’ she said, ‘when you are older if you were obliged
to write to a stranger and he or she were to see such writing and such
spelling you would be set down as a perfect ignoramus.’ Well, so you
see that wasn’t exactly my ambition and I went to it with a vim and
now, if I do say it, I am rather proud of my secretarial powers.”
Joanne shook her head dubiously. “I’ll never come to that pass, I know.”
“Maybe not, but you can at least improve on a mess like this.” Winnie
gave a contemptuous flip to the note on Joanne’s desk.
“Oh, dear, Winnie, you are so brutally frank.”
“Am I? I’m afraid I do go too far sometimes, but, Jo, my beloved little
ducky dear, if you did but know how anxious I am that you should stand
above criticism it wouldn’t worry you in the least when I jump on you
in this way.”
“Am I criticized?” asked Joanne anxiously.
“Of course you are, all of us are. Did you ever know a set of girls who
didn’t criticize?”
“I don’t know many girls, at least not so very well, just those I have
happened to meet in travelling about, and I know scarcely any boys.
Gradda never liked me to play with boys, though there was one on the
steamer when we came up from Bermuda, and she let me make friends with
him; he was so nice, a Boy Scout, and we had fine talks. It was his
mother who told us about the Everleigh school and the Girl Scouts. She
is the most adorable person I ever met, the queen of my dreams. I took
some snap shots of her and one I have had enlarged; I will show it to
you some day if I think of it.”
Winnie looked at her a little compassionately. “You haven’t had much
real home life, have you?” she said gently.
“Not so very much. Sometimes we have had a furnished cottage in the
summer, but generally we have stayed at boarding houses and hotels in
summer and winter. There seemed no use in having a settled home with
Grad away most of the time, and with the need of going south in winter
and north in summer. But now, we do have a home, a real one, and it is
such a joy to all of us, especially to Grad and me. I think Gradda
cares less for it on account of the servant question. She feels so
helpless when the cooks leave.”
“That’s where little Girl Scout Jo should come in.”
“I don’t see how I am ever to learn housewifely things when Gradda
doesn’t like me to go in the kitchen.”
“Your chance will come,” Winnie assured her. Then some of the other
girls joined them and their talk was over.
It was that evening that Joanne was called to the ’phone by her Cousin
Ned. “What’s this about eggs?” he said. “My name isn’t Hennery.”
Of course Joanne giggled, then she explained.
“Fine scheme,” declared Mr. Pattison. “We could use some fresh eggs
ourselves. What’s the matter with going up after them to-morrow
afternoon?”
“Oh, Cousin Ned, do you mean me?” inquired Joanne joyously.
“Who else? Your Cousin Sue has other fish to fry, I know. Can you?”
“Just hold the wire a minute till I ask Gradda.” It was scarcely more
than a minute before she was back again and saying: “I can go. At first
Gradda was inclined to say no, but Grad backed me up and so it is all
right. What time shall I be ready?”
“About two o’clock. I think we can easily make it and get back before
dark. If we don’t there will be no great harm done; there’s a good
road.” He hung up and Joanne returned to the library to find that her
grandmother had gone up to her room to write a letter and that her
grandfather was alone reading the evening paper.
Presently the paper was flung aside and Dr. Selden looked over to where
Joanne was toiling over the intricacies of a piece of crocheting. He
watched her for a few minutes before he said: “Well, Pickings, how goes
it?”
Joanne laid down her work. “It’s very puzzlesome,” she declared. “I
can’t make the rows come out even; they’re either too long or too
short, and yet I try to count the stitches. I’m afraid I’ll never be an
expert at fancy work. I think I’ll make you a garment, Grad. What would
you like?”
“A breakfast jacket or a Tuxedo wouldn’t be bad,” he replied with a
quizzical look in his eyes. “Everything in the way of clothing is so
high-priced now that I would be very grateful for any little help in
the way of a coat of some sort.”
“Now, Grad, you know I couldn’t make a coat.”
“You said a garment and isn’t a coat a garment?”
“Yes, but it would be a funny looking coat if I made it, that is if I
sewed it. When I learn to knit I might make you a sweater. Would you
like that? You could wear it when you go up to Cousin Ned’s to fish.”
“I’d be delighted to have it. When do you think you will get it done?”
“Oh, dear, I don’t know. I haven’t even begun to learn knitting. Win
said crochet was easier, but I don’t believe it is, at least not for
me. Grad, how did you learn to spell and write as well as you do?”
“Oho! I thought you didn’t think those accomplishments necessary.
You’ve always maintained that you would use a typewriter, and that
spelling didn’t matter so long as one understood what was written.”
“Yes, I know, but I have changed my mind. You see a lot of my school
work has to be written and I get fearful marks sometimes just because I
make so many mistakes and write so horribly. How did you learn? I love
the way you write.”
“Well, let me see. I shall have to go back fifty years or more when it
was considered a part of every one’s education to write a good hand. We
had a special teacher at school and I remember laboring painstakingly
to make my copybook the best in my class. As for spelling, it was a
great thing when one could jump from the foot to the head of the class
when a particularly hard word was given out. We used to stand in a row
against the wall. Sometimes the whole school would be in the spelling
match, and the last one left standing had outspelled the others, for as
each one missed a word down he must sit.”
“How exciting! I wish they would do that way now. It was like a play,
wasn’t it? Were you ever the last one left standing?”
“Yes, I was several times, as I remember it, but if I happened to be
the first to miss a word how disgraced I did feel. I was very ambitious
about my writing and practised penmanship in the evenings after I had
studied my lessons. My father, who was an exceedingly good penman,
would set me a copy on my slate.”
“I’m going to do that,” declared Joanne, throwing down her crocheting.
“I haven’t a slate, to be sure, but I can use paper. Will you set me a
copy, Grad? I’d love to write like you.” She fumbled among the papers
on his desk and finally brought forth a large sheet upon which her
grandfather amusedly set her a copy at which she labored till bedtime.
“That is a most ambitious child,” said Dr. Selden as his wife entered
the room after seeing Joanne tucked in.
“I am afraid she is too ambitious,” replied Mrs. Selden. “I am afraid
all these new interests are too exciting for her.”
“Has she complained of headache lately?”
“No,” returned Mrs. Selden after considering the question, “come to
think of it, she has not for a long time.”
“She tells me she is almost up to her normal weight and measurements.”
“How in the world does she know?”
“She keeps a strict account on a card she had given her by her Girl
Scout captain. Fine idea that Girl Scout plan.”
“Yes, in some directions, but she wants to do such queer things like
laundry work and cooking and such things. I never learned them and up
to the present have never had to cook a meal and I have always been
able to find a laundress.”
“Then you are very lucky if one may believe the tales one hears. Let
her learn; it won’t hurt her a bit.”
Mrs. Selden lifted her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders but made no
reply. Being of a conventional make up, and unaccustomed to alter the
standards of her youth, she could see no reason for allowing Joanne to
do the things which she had never been called upon to do, and rather
resented the fact that her husband approved of the modern point of view.
Dr. Selden picked up his paper again, but laid it down to say: “What do
you think Joanne proposes to do?”
“I’m sure I don’t know; something absurd, I suppose.”
“First she proposed to make me a garment. I suggested a coat, but it
came down at last to a sweater, and I firmly believe she will make it.
Then she has a suddenly acquired passion for learning to spell and
write well, and has been practising on a copy I set her. Where is it?”
He picked up the paper Joanne had left on the table. “There, shows
improvement already. Get that child headed the right way and there’s no
telling where she will bring up. We are mighty fortunate in having sent
her to the right school.”
“I hope it may prove so in the end,” said Mrs. Selden. “I have not
been altogether pleased with some things Joanne has reported.”
“What, for example?”
“Oh, this laundry work idea and the cooking, for one thing.”
“Don’t you worry over that. The day may come when you will be thankful
she has those accomplishments.”
“Oh, Gregory, how you talk. Those are not accomplishments.”
“No, not in the same category as painting on satin and playing the
Maiden’s Prayer, I admit,” then feeling that he had made himself
disagreeable he changed the subject.
The quest for eggs was made speedily and successfully. There was but
one halt on the way and that was when Joanne suddenly said: “Oh, Cousin
Ned, do you mind stopping at that candy store we’re coming to? I want
to get an egg.”
Mr. Pattison slowed down though he said: “I thought we were going to
get the eggs in the country.”
“Of course, but I thought it would be nice to take a chocolate egg to
Pablo; he sees plenty of the other kind, but I don’t believe any one
will think to give him a fancy one.”
“Excellent idea. Here you are. Don’t be too particular in making a
selection; we’re in a hurry, you know.”
Joanne wasted no time in making her purchase, and came out presently
with a little paper bag in her hand. “I got two,” she said as she
climbed into the tonneau. “One is for Unc’ Aaron.”
Her cousin chuckled. “I doubt if the old fellow ever saw such a thing.”
“But don’t you think he’ll like it?”
“He’ll be tickled to death.”
And indeed it would be hard to say which was the more pleased, the old
man or the boy. Unc’ Aaron showed every one of his remaining teeth as
he took the egg gingerly in his wrinkled brown hand. “Jes’ erzackly
matches mah complexion,” he said with a grin, “an’ all dese yer little
white crinkly-cranklies on it sutt’nly is pretty. I keeps it on mah
mankelpiece, Miss Jo.”
“Oh, no, you mustn’t,” returned Joanne in alarm; “it will all melt. You
must eat it.”
Unc’ Aaron scratched his old gray head and looked around helplessly at
Pablo.
“It’s all creamy and sugary inside,” explained Joanne.
Unc’ Aaron pawed at Pablo with a funny sidewise movement as he
spluttered with laughter. “Laws, honey,” he exclaimed, “I a-thinkin’
all de time it one o’ dese yer mak believes, jes’ fur a pretty, an’
not fur no mastification. Yas, miss, I eats it ef yuh says so.” He was
still doubtful of its fitness for food, but rather than disappoint the
young lady he was ready to swallow it whole if she demanded it.
As for Pablo, his English was unequal to the occasion and he poured
forth his thanks in appreciative Spanish winding up with the assertion
that he kissed her hand and placed himself at her feet.
Then there was a brief visit to Chico when Joanne had scarce more than
time to kiss his dark head and give him a lump of sugar she had brought
him, before Mrs. Clover called to her to come and see her baby chicks
and yellow ducklings, then Cousin Ned was ready to go and off they
started with a big basket of eggs, two bottles of cream, and other
country products.
The evening sun spread a soft light upon the land, picking out sparkles
in the river and touching to a vivid green the young leaves on the
most adventurous of the trees. In the distance old Sugarloaf loomed up
faintly blue, while from a scraggy sycamore a cardinal bird showed his
splendor against a background of pines. Once in a while the plaintive
note of a peewee or the cheerier whistle of a robin greeted them as
they sped along, and once from out a depth of dense forest sounded the
liquid song of a wood-thrush.
For a long time Joanne sat in silence. Her cousin, too, seemed lost
in thought. After a while, however, he asked: “What are you thinking
about, Jo?”
“I’m not thinking; I’m just enjoying,” she made answer. “It is all so
lovely that I want it to soak in. One thing I did think about a little
while ago was that I mean to study the birds. It seems to me I never
shall have a better chance.”
“You couldn’t find a better locality,” her cousin assured her. Then
they lapsed into silence again and soon were threading their way
through the city’s streets, reaching home with not an egg broken.