MARY'S VIEW
"Mammy, I have seen her!"
"Well, Mary dear?"
"Oh, Mammy, it isn't well! It isn't a bit well; it's just horrid! I
don't like her a bit, and I never shall like her, I know."
Mrs. Hart made room beside her on the wide sofa in the corner of which
she sat knitting. "Come and tell me, dear!" she said comfortably. "Let
us take the trouble out and look at it; it may be smaller than you
think. Tell Mammy all about it!"
Mary drew a long breath, and rubbed her head against her mother's arm.
"Oh, Mammy, you do smooth me out so!" she said. "I feel better
already; perhaps it isn't quite so bad as it seems to me, but I'm
afraid it is. Well, I told you how they made friends?"
"Yes; Sue put a red sugar heart in the corner of the Packard pew, and
she and the little girl--she isn't little? well, then, the big
girl--made eyes at each other all through the service, and fell upon
each other's neck afterward. My dear, it wasn't the thing to do, of
course; but Sue meant no harm, and it was a truly Susannic proceeding.
What came next?"
"You know I was busy all day Monday, helping you with the
strawberry-jam. Well, they were together all day; and yesterday, when
I went over to see Sue, she was at the hotel with Clarice, and had
been invited to stay to dinner. I stayed and played with Lily, who
seemed pretty forlorn; and I kept hoping Sue would come back; but she
didn't. Mammy!"
"Yes, dear."
"I _do_ think Lily has a forlorn time! You spoke to me about it once,
and I said then I didn't think so. I--I think it was just that I
didn't see, then; now I do!"
Mrs. Hart patted Mary's arm, but said nothing; and the girl went on:
"Well, then, this morning, about an hour ago, Sue came flying over in
the wildest excitement. Clarice Packard was there at her house, and I
must come over that very minute. She was the dearest and loveliest
creature in the world; and we must love each other, too; and we should
be three hearts that beat as one; and she never was so happy in her
life! You must have heard her, Mammy; all this was in the front entry,
and she was swinging on the door all the time she was talking; she
hadn't time to let go the handle, she said."
"Yes, I heard; but I was busy, and did not notice much. She seemed to
be rather unusually 'quicksilvery,' I thought. And did you fly over
with her?"
"Why, no; I was just going to feed the dogs,--I promised the boys I
would, because they wanted to go fishing early,--and I had the
chickens to see to, and I couldn't go that minute. I oughtn't to have
gone at all, Mammy, for you needed me, though you would say you
didn't. Well, Sue went off quite huffy; but when I did go over, she
forgot all about it, and was all beaming and rippling. She _is_ a
darling, if she does provoke me sometimes! She flew downstairs to meet
me, and hugged me till I had no breath left, and almost dragged me
upstairs to her room. She was out of breath as well as I, and she
could only say: 'Oh, Clarice, this is Mary! Mary, this is Clarice
Packard, my new friend. She doesn't care a bit about being two years
older than we are! And now we shall all three be friends, like--like
the Dauntless Three, don't you know? Oh, isn't this splendid! Oh, I
never was so happy in my life!'
"Mammy, Clarice Packard didn't look as if she had ever heard of the
Dauntless Three! but she smiled a little, thin smile, and opened her
eyes at me, and said, 'So glad!' I shook hands, of course, and her
hand just flopped into mine, all limp and froggy. I gave it a good
squeeze, and she made a face as if I had broken her bones."
"You have a powerful grip, you know, Mary! Everybody isn't used to
wrestling with boys; you probably did hurt her."
"I know, Mammy; I suppose I did squeeze too hard. Well! Sue had been
showing her everything--all _our_ things, that we play with together.
She didn't say much,--well, perhaps she could not have said very much,
for Sue was talking all the time,--but I felt--Mammy, I felt sure that
she didn't really care about any of them. I know she laughed at the
telephone, because I saw her.
"'I have a real telephone in my room at home,' she said, 'a
long-distance one. My dearest friend lives in Brooklyn, and we have a
line all to ourselves. Puppa is one of the directors, you know, and I
told him I couldn't have other people listening to what Leonie and I
said to each other, so he gave us a private line.' Mammy, do you
believe that? I don't!"
"I cannot say, my dear!" said Mrs. Hart, cautiously. "It sounds
unlikely, but I cannot say it is not true. Go on."
"I think Sue had been showing Clarice her dresses before I came, for
the closet door was open, and her pink gingham was on the bed; and
presently Clarice said: 'Have you any jewelry?'
"Sue ran and brought her box, and took out all her pretty little
things. You know what pretty things Sue has, Mammy! You remember the
blue mosaic cross her godmother sent her from Italy, with the white
dove on it, and the rainbow-shell necklace, and that lovely enameled
rose-leaf pin with the pearl in the middle?"
"Yes; Sue has some very pretty trinkets, simple and tasteful, as a
child's should be. Mrs. Penrose has excellent taste in all such
matters. Sue must have enjoyed showing them to a new person."
"Dear Sue! she was so pleased and happy, she never noticed; but I
could see that that girl was just laughing at the things. Of course
none of them are showy--I should hope not!--but you would have thought
they were nothing but make-believe, the way she looked at them. She
kept saying, 'Oh, very pretty! quite sweet!' and then she would open
her eyes wide and smile; and Sue just quivered with delight every time
she did it. Sue thinks it is perfectly beautiful; she says it is
Clarice's soul overflowing at her eyes. _I_ want to shake her every
time she does it. Well, then she said in a sort of silky voice she
has--Sue calls it 'silken,' and I call it 'silky'; and I think,
somehow, Mammy, that shows partly the way she strikes us both, don't
you?--she said in that soft, silky way, 'Any diamonds, dear?' Of
course she knew Sue had no diamonds! The idea! I never heard anything
so ridiculous. And when Sue said no, she said: "I wish I had brought
my chain; I should like to show it to you. Puppa thought it hardly
safe for me to bring it down here into the backwoods, he said. It goes
all round my neck, you know, and reaches down to my belt. It cost a
thousand dollars.' Mammy, do you believe that?"
"I don't think it at all likely, my dear! I am afraid Clarice is given
to romancing. But of course she may have a good deal of jewelry. Some
very rich people who have not just our ideas about such matters often
wear a great many jewels--more than we should like to wear, even if we
had the means. But people of good taste would never allow a young girl
to wear diamonds."
"I should think not, Mammy! Clarice Packard had no diamonds on, but
her hands were just covered with rings--rather cheap, showy rings,
too. There was one pretty one, though, that took Sue's fancy greatly,
and mine too, for that matter. It was a ring of gold wire, with a tiny
gold mouse running loose round it--just loose, Mammy, holding on by
its four little feet. Oh, such a pretty thing! Sue was perfectly
enchanted with it, and could not give over admiring it; and at last
Clarice took it off, and put it on Sue's finger, and said she must
wear it a little while for her sake. I wish, somehow, Sue had said no;
but she was so happy, and 'quicksilvered' all over so, it was pretty
to see her. She threw her arms round Clarice's neck, and told her she
was a dear, beautiful, royal darling. Then Clarice whispered something
in Sue's ear, and looked at me out of the corner of her eye, and Sue
colored and looked distressed; and--and so I came away, Mammy dear,
and here I am!"
"Rather hot, and a little cross?" said Mrs. Hart.
"Yes, Mammy."
"And with a sore spot in your heart?"
"Yes, Mammy."
Mrs. Hart put down her knitting and held out her arms, and Mary curled
up in her lap, and tried to shorten her long legs and make herself as
small as might be.
"You know what I am afraid of, Mammy!" she said.
Her mother nodded, and pressed the comforting arms closer round her
little girl, but said nothing.
"I am afraid I am going to lose my Sue, my own Sue, who has always
belonged to me. It doesn't seem as if I could bear it, Mammy. It has
come--so--don't you know?--so all of a sudden! We never thought
anything could possibly come between us. I never should think of
wanting any one but Sue, and I thought--it was the same--with her.
And--and now--she does not see herself how it is, not a bit; she is
just as sweet and loving as ever, and she thinks that I can start
right in as she has done, and love this girl, and that there will be
three of us instead of two. Mammy, it cannot be. You see that, I'm
sure; of course you do! And--and I am very sad, Mammy."
Mrs. Hart stroked the brown head in silence for a few minutes; then
she said:
"Dear child, I don't really think we need be afraid of that--of your
losing Sue permanently. You are likely to have an uncomfortable
summer; that, I fear, we must expect. But Sue is too good and loving
at bottom to be seriously moved by this new-comer; and a tie like that
between you and her, Mary, is too strong to be easily loosed. Sue is
dazzled by the glitter and the novelty, and all the quicksilver part
of her is alive and excited. It is like some of your stories coming
true, or it seems so to her, I have no doubt. Remember that you are
very different, you two, and that while you are steady-going and
content with every-day life, she is always dreaming, and longing for
something new and wonderful. She would not be so dear to you if you
were more alike, nor you to her. But by and by the other part of her,
the sensible part, will wake up again, and she will see what is
foolish in this new friendship, and what is real and abiding in the
old. Then, too, Mary, you must remember that you are excited as well
as Sue, and perhaps not quite just. You have only seen this girl
once--"
"It would be just the same, Mammy, if I had seen her a hundred times;
I know it would!"
"No, love; you cannot know that. Some people show their worst side on
first acquaintance, and improve as we know them better. You certainly
must show some attention to Clarice Packard. Your father has met Mr.
Packard, and says he seems a sensible man, though not a person of much
education. Suppose you invite the girl here and let me see her? We
might ask her to tea some evening this week."
"No, Mammy; Papa would not endure it; I know he would not. There!
look, Mammy! There they go, she and Sue. Look and see for yourself!"
Mrs. Hart looked, and saw the two girls pacing along the opposite
sidewalk, arm in arm. Clarice was bending over Sue with an exaggerated
air of confidence; her eyes languished, and she shook her head and
shrugged her shoulders with an air of ineffable consequence.
"You are right, dear," said Mrs. Hart; "not to tea, certainly. What
shall we do, then? Let me see! You might have a picnic, you three
girls; that is an excellent way of improving acquaintance. You may
find it quite a different thing, meeting in an informal way. The first
interview would, of course, be the trying one."
Mary brightened. "That would be just the thing!" she said. "And I will
try, Mammy, I surely will try to like Clarice, if I possibly can; and
of course I can be nice to her, anyhow, and I will. Oh, here comes Sue
back again, and I'll ask her!"
Sue came flying back along the street at a very different pace from
the mincing steps to which she had been trying to suit her own. Mary
rapped on the window. Sue flashed an answering smile, whirled across
the street and in at the door, hugged Mary, kissed Mrs. Hart, and
dropped on a hassock, all in one unbroken movement.
"Oh, Mrs. Hart," she cried, "did you see her? Did you see Clarice?
Isn't she too perfectly lovely? Did you ever see such hair and eyes?
Did you ever see any one walk so?"
"No, dear; I don't know that I ever did!" said Mrs. Hart. "But I could
hardly see your friend's face, you know. You are very much pleased
with her, are you, Sue dear?"
"Oh!" cried Sue, throwing her head back with a favorite ecstatic
movement of hers. "Mrs. Hart, she is simply the most lovely creature I
ever saw in my life. Her ways--why, you never imagined anything so--so
gracious, and--and queenly, and--and--oh, I don't know what to call
it. And she is going to stay all summer; and we are to be three
together, she and Mary and I. You dear!" She stopped to hug Mary and
take breath. "You dear old Sobriety, you haven't got a bit used to
Clarice yet; I'm only just beginning to get used to her myself, she's
so different from us. She comes from New York, Mrs. Hart; just think
of that! She walks down Broadway every day when she is at home. And
she has told me all about the elevated railroad; she isn't a bit
afraid to go on it, and I don't believe I should be. And--and--oh,
Mrs. Hart, isn't it wonderful?"
Mrs. Hart smiled down into the beaming face; it was impossible not to
respond to such heartfelt joy.
"Dear Sue!" she said affectionately. "You must bring your new friend
to see me soon."
"Oh, of course I shall!" cried Sue.
"And Mary and I were just wondering whether it would be pleasant for
you three to have a picnic some day soon."
"Oh, Mrs. Hart, how perfectly delightful! When can we go? To-day? I'll
run after Clarice and tell her."
"No, no, Quicksilver!" said Mary, catching Sue's skirt as she sprang
up, and pulling her down to her seat again. "We can't go to-day,
possibly. Perhaps to-morrow--what do you say, Mammy? or would Friday
be better?"
Sue's face fell. "Friday!" she said. "Why, Mary, Friday is ever and
ever so far off! I don't see how we _can_ wait till Friday!"
"To-morrow will do very well," said Mrs. Hart. "I have a small
chicken-pie that will be the very thing; and there are doughnuts and
cookies. How is your mother feeling, Sue? Will she or Katy be able to
get up something for you, do you think?"
"Oh, yes, indeed, Mrs. Hart! I'll make an angel-cake; and there is
jam, and--well, Katy was going to show me how to make croquettes some
time, and perhaps I'll learn how to-morrow, and then they will be all
ready, you see; and oh, we'll have all kinds of things. Let's go and
see about them now, Mary! Oh, and we'll ask the boys. Don't you think
they will come, Mary? Clarice wants to know them. Isn't that sweet of
her?"
"Indeed!" said Mrs. Hart and Mary, in one breath. "Has she seen them?"
"No; but she asked if there were any nice boys here, and of course I
said yes, the nicest boys in the world--Tom and Teddy; and she asked
me to introduce them to her; and--and so, you see!"
"I see!" said Mrs. Hart, with a quiet smile. "There are the boys now,
back from fishing. Why don't you all go and have a good game of 'I
spy' in the orchard?"
"Oh, good!" cried both girls.
They ran to the door just in time to meet two jolly, freckled boys who
came rolling in, both talking at once. Sue stumbled and fell over one
of them, knocking his cap off, and his basket out of his hand.
"Now, then, Quicksilver," said Tom, "where are you a-coming to?
Thermometer smashed, and mercury running all over the lot, eh?"
"Oh, I beg your pardon, Tom--I do indeed! But I saved you the trouble
of taking off your hat, anyhow. Come along and play 'I spy' in the
orchard."
"Hurrah!" cried the boys. "Where's Mammy? Oh, Mammy, pickereels! five
fine fat festive pickereels! Fried for supper, please, Mammy! Coming,
Quicksilver! All right, Ballast!" (Ballast was Mary's nickname, as the
opposite of Quicksilver.) "Who'll count out?"
"I!" "Me!" "You!"
They tumbled out of the back door together, and the last sound Mrs.
Hart heard was:
"Wonozol, zoo-ozol, zigozol, zan,
Bobtail, vinegar, tittle-tol, tan;
Harum-scarum, virgin marum,
Hy, zon, tus!"