"Now what shall we do with this dreadfully long evening? Do hurry and
think, Polly, before everybody gets dismal again."
"Oh, I don't know," said Polly, at her wit's end.
"But we must think of something," said Jasper desperately, and fumbling the
letters.
Polly's eye fell on his restless fingers.
"We might sort them out, the letters, and tie them up in little packages to
take out to the post office."
"The very thing!" cried Jasper enthusiastically. "Here, all you good
people"--he whirled around--"if you want to help, please sit down, and
we'll get this mess of letters sorted and tied up into bundles." He waved
his hands over his head, and of course everybody stopped talking at once.
"Oh, whickets!" Joel screamed; then he caught Polly's eye, and his chubby
face took on a lively red. "Let me--let me!" He crammed himself in between
Jasper and the table.
"Hold on!" commanded Jasper, "not so fast, Joe," and he seized Joel's brown
hands just grabbing a big pile.
"Wait till Jasper tells us how to begin," said Polly, her brown eyes
dancing at the prospect of something to do.
"Oh, dear!" whimpered Joel, stamping in his impatience. The Whitney boys
were crowding up close behind. "Do hurry up, Jasper," they teased.
"Well, how shall we begin, Polly?" Jasper wrinkled up his brows in
perplexity.
"Let's ask Miss Mary," said Polly. So Jasper called, "Miss Mary!" but she
didn't seem to hear, which perhaps wasn't so very strange, after all, as
Mr. Dyce was telling her something which must have been very interesting,
over in the corner. When at last the summons reached her, she came hurrying
over with very pink cheeks. "Oh, what can I do to help?"
"We've been calling and calling for ever so long," said Joel, in a very
injured tone, for he had added his voice when he saw that things were
waiting for Miss Taylor.
"Oh, have you, Joel? That's too bad." Miss Mary's cheeks became pinker than
ever.
"Well, you are always screaming over something, Joe, you beggar"--Mr. Dyce
pulled his ear--"so it's no wonder that your cries are not attended to on
the instant."
When Miss Mary saw what was wanted of her, she proposed that Jasper give
out twelve letters to each person, who should tie them up neatly, and put
in a big basket. Then they would be ready to take out to the post office in
the Wistaria arbor, and to be sorted into the little boxes which Grandpapa
had commissioned the carpenter to make all up and down the sides, leaving
one end free for the delivery window. The door for the postmaster and his
assistants was to be at the opposite corner.
"Oh, yes, how nice!" exclaimed Polly, hopping up and down as ecstatically
as Phronsie ever did. "Jasper, I'll get a ball of twine," and she was
flying off.
"No, you stay here and help me give out the letters," said Jasper.
"Oh, I want to do that," cried Joel, squeezing and crowding.
"No, you must get the big basket," said Jasper. "Go and ask Thomas to give
you one."
"I don't want to get an old basket," whined Joel; "let Percy get it."
"Hoh! I'm not going to," declared Percy, drawing himself up in great state.
"Then I will go myself," said Jasper, flinging down a handful of letters,
to hurry off.
"Joel," said Polly, in a sorry little voice, and turning away from the
table, "now you will spoil everything, and we've just got to feeling good.
How can you, Joey!"
"I didn't mean--" began Joel, turning his back on her, while he winked very
hard, "I didn't mean to, Polly."
Percy dug the toe of his shoe into the rug, and looked down on the floor.
"Then run after Jasper," cried Polly; "hurry, and tell him so."
"I will," cried Joel, plunging off, and Percy, being left alone, as Van had
slid away to another group when he saw how things were going on, concluded
to follow. And presently Jasper came back.
"It's all right, Polly," he nodded brightly to her, and they fell to work.
And in a minute or two, Joel came back with Percy, carrying the basket, a
big market affair, between them. And when he saw what fun they were having
over it, for they were both laughing merrily, Van wished he had gone.
And seeing his dismal face, Jasper sent him after a ball of twine. And then
Phronsie wanted to get something, and little Dick teased to go too, so
Grandpapa suggested they should go after some extra pairs of scissors.
"And Mamsie will let us take hers out of her workbasket, I guess," cried
Phronsie. "Let us ask her, Grandpapa dear."
"Oh, you better stop working, Mrs. Fisher." Old Mr. King popped his white
head in at the library door. There sat Mother Fisher by the table, mending
away as usual, for the stockings never seemed to be quite done. "And come
into Jasper's den and see how fine we all are!" he added gayly.
"Yes, Mamsie, do come," chirped Phronsie, running her head in between him
and the door-casing to plead.
"Yes, Mamsie, do come," echoed little Dick, who would do and say everything
that Phronsie did.
"You see, you've simply got to come," laughed Grandpapa.
"And may we have your scissors, Mamsie?" Phronsie now deserted old Mr.
King, to run over to the big workbasket.
"My scissors?" repeated Mother Fisher. "Why, Phronsie, child, what are you
going to do with them?"
"We're going to cut letters," said Phronsie, with an important air, her
fingers already in the basket, which, standing on tiptoe, she had pulled
quickly over toward her in her eagerness. "And may we have your scissors,
Mamsie?"
"Take care," warned Mother Fisher, but too late. Over went the big basket,
and away rattled all the things, having a perfectly beautiful time by
themselves over the library floor.
"Bless me!" ejaculated old Mr. King, while little Dick laughed right out.
Phronsie stood quite still, the color all out of her round cheeks. Then her
bosom heaved, and she darted over to lay her head in Mother Fisher's lap.
"Oh, I didn't mean to, Mamsie," she wailed.
"Oh, deary me! bless me!" exclaimed Grandpapa, in the greatest
consternation, and leaning over the two.
"There, there, don't mind it, deary." Mother Fisher was smoothing the
yellow hair.
"Take me, Mamsie," begged Phronsie, holding up both hands, and she burrowed
her face deeper yet in Mrs. Fisher's lap.
"Oh, dear me!" old Mr. King kept exclaiming. Then he pulled out his
handkerchief and mopped his face violently. This not making him feel any
better, he kept exclaiming, "Oh, dear me!" at intervals.
"I'll pick 'em up," said little Dick cheerfully, beginning to race after
the spools and things over the floor.
Mother Fisher had drawn Phronsie up to her bosom, where she cuddled her to
her heart's content. "Now, child," she said, after a minute, "I think you
ought to help to pick up the things and put them in the basket. See how
nicely Dicky is doing it."
"I'm getting all the spools," announced Dick, jamming all the chairs aside
that he could move, and lifting a very hot face. "Yes, sir-ee! Come,
Phronsie."
"I think you ought to help him, Phronsie."
So Phronsie slipped out of her mother's lap obediently, and wiped off her
tears.
"Come on," said little Dick, in great glee. "I'm going under the table;
there's a lot under there."
And in shorter time than it takes to tell it, the spools, and mending
cotton, and tape measure, and, dear me! the ever-so-many things of which
Mrs. Fisher's big workbasket was always full, were all collected from the
nice time they were having on the floor, and snugly set up in their places
again. And Mother Fisher, escorted by the children and old Mr. King, who by
this time was laughing quite gayly once more, was going out into the hall,
on the way to Jasper's den. And Phronsie had the big cutting-out shears,
and little Dick the smaller, little snipping-thread scissors.
"Hullo!" Mr. King called out, as the butler ushered into the hall two
gentlemen, in dripping mackintoshes. "Now that's fine, Cabot and Alstyne,
to drop in of this dismal evening."
"We've called to condole with you all," said both gentlemen, as they were
divested of their wet garments, "but it doesn't seem as if our services
were needed"--with a glance at Grandpapa and his group.
"Oh, my family gets over any little disappointment such as bad weather,"
observed the old gentleman, with pride. "Well, come this way, the principal
object of interest is in Jasper's den; no need to announce it"--as the
peals of laughter and chatter sounded down the long hall.
VIII
THE GARDEN PARTY
And so, after all, it turned out to be the very best thing that the garden
party did not take place until two days after, for all was then as sweet
and fresh as a rose--all but one thing. And that was, on the very morning
of the eventful day, Mrs. Chatterton drove up.
But then, as Jasper observed to Polly when this dire news was announced,
"Cousin Eunice was always turning up when least wanted." And Polly had, as
usual, to keep back her own thoughts on the subject, to comfort him. It
would never do to add to his dismay.
"Why she can't stay in Europe when she's everlastingly saying that there is
no place in America to compare with it, I don't, for my part, see," he
cried, in a pet.
"I suppose she wants to be with her relations, Jasper," said Polly, with a
sigh.
"Relations?"--Jasper turned suddenly on his heel and thrust his hands
deeply in his pockets--"well, she fights with every single one of them,"
he said savagely.
"Oh, Jasper--fights!" exclaimed Polly, in horror, whose great grief had
always been at having no relations, so to speak. "Dear me, how very
dreadful!"
"Well, you know she does," said Jasper gloomily, and squaring
round--"always picking and carping at something or somebody; and now Father
will be all upset by her. If she had only waited till to-morrow!"
Polly felt such a dreadful sinking of her heart just then, that for a
minute she didn't speak. There didn't seem to be any comfort for this.
"And just think how good Father has been," went on Jasper, too miserable to
keep still, "and all those flowers he had ordered, for of course he
couldn't let the florists suffer, and that he sent to the hospitals when it
poured so."
"I know it," said Polly, swallowing hard.
"And now he has ordered another lot, and everything else--why, you know,
Polly, there isn't anything Father hasn't done to make this fair a success,
and now she has come!" Jasper flung himself into a chair and buried his
face in his hands.
"Oh, Jasper," cried Polly, running over to him in the greatest distress,
"don't! Oh, dear me! What can we do?"
"Nothing," said Jasper, in the depths of gloom; "nothing will do any good
so long as she has come."
"Oh, there must something be done," declared Polly quite wildly, and
feeling equal to anything. If she only knew what would avail! "_Hush,
here comes Grandpapa!_"
"Oh, he mustn't see us feeling badly." Jasper sprang from his chair. "Come,
Polly," and they flew out into the side hall.
"Now where are those two, Polly and Jasper?" said old Mr. King to himself,
coming to the library in a great state of irritation. "I've searched this
house for them, and nobody seems to have the least idea where they have
gone. Polly! Jasper!" he cried loudly, and it wasn't a very pleasant voice,
either.
"Oh, dear!" Jasper seized Polly's hands in a corner of the hall. "He's
calling us, and we've got to go, Polly, and how we look, you and I!
Whatever shall we do!"
"But we must go," breathed Polly. Then she looked up into Jasper's face.
"Let's ask him to go out and help us fix the flowers," she cried suddenly.
Jasper gave her a keen glance. "All right," he said. "Come on," and before
their resolution had time to cool itself, they rushed into the library.
"Oh, Grandpapa," they both cried together, "do come out and tell us how to
fix the flowers."
"Hey?" The old gentleman whirled around from the table, where he had begun
to throw the papers about. "Did you know Mrs. Chatterton had come back?" He
glared at them over his spectacles, which he had forgotten to remove when
he had been interrupted with the unwelcome news while peacefully reading
the morning paper.
"Yes--oh, yes," said Jasper.
"Oh, yes, we know it," cried Polly cheerfully, "but, Grandpapa, we want
you"--tugging at his hand.
"Hey? you knew it?" The old gentleman's tone softened, and he suffered
himself to be led toward the door. "And you want me, eh?"--feeling with
every step as if life, after all, might be worth living.
"Yes, we do indeed, Father," cried Jasper affectionately, possessing
himself of the other hand.
"And oh, the flowers you sent are just too lovely for anything!" cried
Polly, dancing away along by his side. "They're gorgeous, Grandpapa dear."
"Are they so?" Grandpapa beamed at her, all his happiness returned. "So you
want me to tell you how to arrange them, eh?" And his satisfaction in being
appealed to was so intense that he held his head high. "Well, come on," and
he laughed gayly.
Mrs. Chatterton, newly arrived in the handsome suite of apartments Cousin
Horatio's hospitality always allowed her, looked out of the window, and,
having no one else to confide her opinions to, was not averse to chatting
with her French maid.
"Isn't it perfectly absurd, Hortense, to see that old man?--and to think
how particular and aristocratic he used to be! Why, I can remember when he
would hardly let Jasper speak to him in some of his moods, and now just see
that beggar girl actually holding his hand, and he laughing with her."
"A beggaire, is it?" cried Hortense, dropping the gown she was brushing, to
run to the window. "I see no beggaire, madame"--craning her neck.
"You needn't drop your work," said Mrs. Chatterton, with asperity, "just
because I made a simple remark. You know quite well whom I mean, Hortense.
It's that Polly Pepper I'm speaking of."
"She is not a beggaire, madame," declared Hortense pertly, opening her
black eyes very wide. "Oh!" She extended her hands and burst into a series
of shrill cackles. "Why, she's like all de oder children in dis house, and
I think truly, madame, de best."
"Go back to your work, I say," commanded Mrs. Chatterton, in a fury,
forgetting herself enough to stamp her foot. So Hortense picked up the
gown, but she continued to cackle softly to herself, with now and then a
furtive glance at her mistress.
Outside, with all the sunny influence of the summer morning upon him, old
Mr. King, and Polly, and Jasper went about, superintending the placing of
the flowers. For there seemed to be a great many in the pots, with ferns
and palms, to distribute where they would best show off and be persuaded to
swell the poor children's fund.
"Oh, Grandpapa dear! what richness!" sighed Polly, clasping her hands in
ecstasy. "I do think I never saw so many, and such beauties. Only look,
Jasper, at that azalea!"
"I know it," said Jasper, his eyes sparkling, "and those orchids, Polly!"
"Oh, I know--I know," said Polly, spinning about to take it all in. Old Mr.
King put back his head and laughed to see her.
"I'm so glad you like it, Polly, my girl," he said, heartily pleased.
"Like it, Grandpapa!" repeated Polly, standing quite still. "Oh, it's just
too beautiful!" and she clasped her hands tightly together.
"Well, I think we'd best get to work," said Jasper, bursting into a laugh.
"Come on, Polly, let's set about it."
"I think so, too," said Polly, coming out of her rapture. Thereupon ensued
such a busy time!--especially as old Turner and two of his under-gardeners
came up for directions, and Mr. King went off with them. So for the next
hour Polly seemed to be on wings, here, there, and everywhere, and
breathing only the sweet fragrance of the flowers.
"How Phronsie would enjoy it--the fixing and all!" she mourned, in the
midst of it, as the transforming of the flower-tables into veritable bowers
of beauty went on.
"But you know she had to take a long nap, else she would be all tired out.
And the afternoon is going to be a long one, Polly."
"Oh, I know," said Polly, flying on with her work faster than ever, "and
Mamsie was right to make her go to sleep."
"Mrs. Fisher is always right," said Jasper decidedly, "ever and always."
"Isn't she!" cried Polly, in a glow. "Well, Jasper, do you think that
smilax ought to be trained up there?" She twisted her head to view the
effect, and looked up at him anxiously.
"Yes--no," said Jasper critically; "I don't believe I'd put it there. It
looks too much, Polly; there are so many vines about."
"So it does," said Polly, in great relief. "Heigh-ho! when one is working
over any thing it looks so different, doesn't it?"
"I should say so," cried Jasper. "Oh, Polly, it can't ever in all this
world be twelve o'clock."
"It can't!" exclaimed Polly, in dismay. But there was one of the
white-capped maids coming across the lawn, with the summons to go in to
luncheon, which was to be served at an earlier hour than usual.
And after that, no one had more than a moment in which to think, for at
three o'clock the garden party was to open, and the fair to be in full
progress.
Long before that time, the avenues and streets leading out to the Horatio
King estate were thronged with children of all ages and sizes; most of them
with their nurse-maids, all bound to the scene of the garden party, their
small purses dangling by chains from their arms, or carried carefully in
their hands. For wasn't this to help poor children who didn't have any
pleasant homes, but lived in stuffy tenement houses, to go out into the
broad, beautiful country, where they could race in the fields and play with
the chickens, and pick all the flowers they wanted to? And so, ever since
the announcement had been made that such a fund was to be raised, there had
been much hoarding of pennies, and no slight self-denial on the part of the
younger element, who would naturally be drawn into the plan.
All the society people were to drive up later; and until the early evening
hours it was to be the function of the town, which every one was anxious to
attend. But everybody in Mr. King's household was to be ready to receive,
exactly at three o'clock.
Phronsie was in the highest of spirits, having Grandpapa's hand to cling
to, trying to welcome all the guests, and keeping one eye out to see that
Rachel was enjoying herself, attired in a pretty, pink cambric gown, her
black hair--which now seemed, oh, so soft and pretty!--tied back with
little pink bows. And Rachel's eyes--well, there! no one would ever have
suspected that they had only been accustomed to the squalor of Gran's
apartment, and Gran herself, but one short week ago. They now looked on the
world in general, and this fair scene in particular, with all the
nonchalance of one born and brought up in the midst of such conditions as
could bring about a state of affairs like the present that surrounded her.
And many asked, "Who is that child?" for it was clearly seen that she
wasn't of the set that was thronging the grounds.
Rachel herself was wholly unconscious of the remarks that were being made,
so she devoted her heart and soul to the duty assigned to her, that of
waiting on Polly and her bevy of school friends in one of the
flower-bowers. And she never bothered about any curious glances, or asides,
until a chance remark struck her ear as she was hurrying across the lawn,
which she thought needed attention; then she raised her head, and her black
eyes grew sharp and intent. It was Mrs. Chatterton who was speaking.
"Yes, it's a little beggar girl he took in," and the cackle was unpleasant
that accompanied the words. "Dear me! I expect she'll rob us all; such
creatures are so sly." She was pointing out Rachel to one of her friends
lately arrived from Europe, and who had exerted herself to come early and
see the children.
"Do you mean me?" demanded Rachel, her black eyes, like gimlets, on the
long, cynical face. "'Cause if you does, I can tell you that what I does, I
does right out on top; an' I guess by the looks o' you, that ain't your
style."
"You impertinent creature!" exclaimed Mrs. Chatterton, her long face
crimson with passion, not allayed by seeing that her friend could with
difficulty control her amusement. "She'll tell this everywhere," she fumed
within. "I shall go and speak to my cousin, Mr. King, about you, girl." She
moved her arm and shapely hand, both very beautiful still, and well
exhibited on every occasion, and started off with great dignity.
"I would," said Rachel scornfully. Then she laughed, "Oh, me! oh, my!
you're such a favor_ite_, you are!" and she doubled up her thin
figure, and went off in a little gust of merriment.
"Come with me." Mrs. Chatterton darted back and seized her friend's arm to
drag her away. "That detestable creature makes me feel quite faint."
As soon as they had disappeared down a winding path, Rachel's amusement
quite left her. She drew herself up stiffly, and hurried back to Polly, to
be the same quiet, attentive, deft little maiden as before.
"You do tie flowers up so beautifully," cried Polly, handing her another
big spool of baby ribbon. "Doesn't she, girls?"
"Yes, indeed," cried ever so many.
"I can't tie a bow to save myself," declared Alexia; "it all snarls up, and
it looks for all the world, when I get through, as if my dog had chewed it.
Oh, dear me! Yes, that basket is two dollars."
"I'll take it," said the little tot who had to stand on tiptoes to peer
over the table with its blooming beauty. "I want it for my mamma," and he
gave his smart little cane to the nursemaid to hold, while he opened his
purse.
"Well, it's a beauty, Rick," said Alexia, picking up the basket; "the
violets are so sweet," and she sniffed them two or three times as she
passed them over.
"Here's Rick Halliday," called Clem, at the other end of the table. "Now
I'm going to make him buy something of me. We must all make him, girls; his
father's given him oceans of money to spend, of course."
It was loud enough for Polly to hear, and she dropped the box of ribbon
under the table.
"No, no," she said decidedly, hurrying over, "Grandpapa said we were not to
ask a single person to buy. That's the rule, you know, Clem."
"We could make ever so much more," grumbled Clem; "it's for the poor
children, you know, Polly."
"Grandpapa said not," repeated Polly, her cheeks like a rose, and back she
flew again to her post.
"I shan't buy anything of you, Clem Forsythe," loudly declared small Rick
over to her, taking his little cane from the nursemaid's hand, "anyway. And
beside, my papa said if any one teased me to spend my money, I was to come
right away. But he didn't believe they would here." And with his basket of
flowers for his mother, he moved off with great dignity across the lawn,
swinging his cane as he had noticed the men did.
"Of all kids, I do think that Rick Halliday is the most detestable infant,"
exclaimed Clem, in great discomfort. "Oh, yes, Mrs. Nunn"--her face
brightening--"we have heliotrope, ever so much of it." She thrust her hands
into a big vase overflowing with fragrance. "How many? Oh, three dozen
sprays. Yes, indeed."
[Illustration: "But this is ten dollars," said Joel]
And the bands--one at the end of the big lawn, and the other on the terrace
at the farther side of the house--were playing their sweetest; and now the
society folk began to put in an appearance among the throngs of children.
Everybody was in gala attire, and the garden party was at its height.
"Joel," cried Mr. Cabot to that individual, rushing in and out among the
little knots of gayly dressed visitors, "here, run over to the post office,
will you, and see if there are any letters for me?"
"All right," Joel cried, as he flew along. And in an incredibly short space
of time, back he rushed with three missives.
"How much?"
"Ten cents apiece," said Joel promptly. "I'll get change in a minute," and
he was flying off again with the bill thrust into his hand.
"I don't take any change here. I don't want any; I won't be bothered with
it," declared Mr. Cabot, in his most decided fashion.
"But this is ten dollars," said Joel, aghast, and stopping short to flap
the bill.
"Never mind, that's my affair; go along, or I'll report you. Aren't you one
of the postmen?"--pointing sternly to his badge.
"Yes," said Joel, straightening up, and puffing out his chubby cheeks with
pride.
"Well, then, you'll find yourself reported if you don't march," cried Mr.
Cabot "So off with yourself to the postmaster."