ANNIE'S MOTHER.
We were rather troubled about Annie Pore and what on earth she was going
to wear to the concert. Her wardrobe, not being extensive, was well
known to all of her friends and certainly there was nothing suitable in
it for a girl who was going to have to stand up on the stage and sing.
"If she would only not be so proud," groaned Dum; "but who could say to
Lady Clara Vere de Vere, 'Let me lend you some of my duds?' Now I
shouldn't in the least mind borrowing anything from anybody if I thought
the person cared for me. Don't I wear the Liberty scarf your Cousin Sue
sent you every time I find it idle, and if I could borrow from you,
Page, why shouldn't Annie?"
"Well, it is different, Dum, because Annie hasn't got anything. You
borrow the scarf just as a frill, but if it were a necessity I don't
believe you would." I had intense sympathy for Annie because I could
fancy what my own clothes would have been if dear Cousin Sue Lee had not
had them in charge. Miss Pinky Davis, our country dressmaker, would have
turned out just such another crooked seamed suit as Annie's if Cousin
Sue had not insisted on a mail order, and I know my shirtwaists would
have been big where they should have been little, and little where they
should have been big: and as for Middy blouses, there is no telling what
they would have looked like: rick-rack trimming on the collar, no doubt,
and ruffles around the tail. Cousin Sue did let Miss Pinky make me some
white evening dresses and they turned out all right because Cousin Sue
bridled Miss Pinky's fancy.
"Let me see," said Dee, "as far as I can remember Annie has a blue serge
skirt, two white shirtwaists, one blue poplin one and a plaid silk
blouse for Sunday. I can't bear to think of her on the stage in any of
that array. Of course it makes no difference to any of us, but think of
that nasty Mabel Binks and her following! Ugh! I tell you one thing,"
she added excitedly, "if any of them make Annie feel bad, they've got me
to fight."
"Me, too," chimed in Dum.
"Well, I can't see that that would help Annie's clothes much," I
laughed, "but it might keep you, Tweedles, from having apoplexy."
"Dee, you've got so much tact, you go see Annie and find out what she is
going to wear," suggested Dum.
"Oh, no, not me! I'm so afraid I might leak, and that would never do,"
and Dee got out a handkerchief ready for emergencies. "You see, I feel
so bad about Annie and so desperately sorry for her that I have to cry
just thinking about her, and what would it be if she should get out her
poor little blouses and ask my advice? Just think of all the clothes Jo
Barr has, simply going to waste and how old Jo would love to dress Annie
up in them! Still, we all know that Annie would be cut to the quick at
the suggestion of such a thing. Oh, dear, oh, dear! I wonder what
Zebedee would do."
"Well, I know what I am going to do," I said, uncurling myself from the
window sill where I could, by a good deal of craning of the neck, catch
a glimpse of my beloved mountains; "I'm going in and have it out with
Annie. She knows I love her and I don't believe I'll hurt her feelings.
I think she trusts us, and when you really trust people they simply
can't hurt your feelings unless you have a natural born chip on your
shoulder, which Annie hasn't."
"Oh, Page, you are just like Zebedee," tweedled the twins. "That's what
he would do."
I found Annie looking very like old Rain-in-the-Face. She was in a
forlorn heap on the floor; her eyes red; her ripe-wheat hair all
disheveled; and in her hand a crumpled letter. On the floor by her was
an unopened box which had just come by parcels post.
Her "Come in" in answer to my knock had been more like a sob than an
invitation to enter.
"What is it, dear Annie? Tweedles and I have just been talking about you
and we wonder if you know how much we love you. Do you?"
"Oh, Page, I don't see how you can!"
"Well, we do, and I said I believed you loved us enough to trust us. I
mean to understand that we could never hurt your feelings in any
possible way, just because we'd rather be boiled alive than hurt you."
Annie looked up and smiled a rather watery smile, but a smile all the
same.
"Now s'pose you trust me and tell me what is the matter. What are
friends for if you can't tell them your troubles?"
"Oh, Page, I'd like to tell you, but it would seem so disloyal to my
Father."
"You understand, Annie, that if you tell me anything it would be just
like telling it to a Father Confessor. I mean I'd never breathe a word
of it." It sounded as though I were full of curiosity, but while of
course I did want to know, my reason for pressing Annie was that I felt
she needed to let off steam, that is, her pent-up emotions.
"I know you are the best friend any girl ever had and I believe I will
tell you all about everything."
"Well, wash your face first and let me brush your hair while you talk."
So Annie got up and bathed her face, and while I combed and brushed her
thick, yellow hair, she told me the following tale:
"You see, Page, my Father is an Englishman and he is awfully proud. He
does not understand a little girl a bit nor did he understand my
beautiful Mother. He loved her, though, adored her, in fact, and I know
has never been happy one minute since she died; that's been about four
years now. He does not love me, though, I am afraid; but maybe I do him
an injustice and don't understand him. Anyhow, he is never chummy and
chatty with me like Mr. Tucker is with Tweedles."
"I bet he does love you, Annie. My Father is not so intimate with me as
Mr. Tucker is with his girls, but I know he loves me. You see, Mr.
Tucker is almost the same age as his daughters and I fancy your Father
is much older than you are, just as mine is." And I went on brushing
her hair, knowing she was becoming calmer and beginning rather to enjoy
talking about herself.
"My Father, you know, is very well born; in fact, his Father was a
baronet of very ancient stock and his elder brother now has the title
and estates. Father was educated for the church. He has an Oxford degree
and is very scholarly. However, after all his education, he did not want
to take orders. He felt that he had no vocation for the ministry, and he
and my grandfather had an awful row about it. You see, English younger
sons have to do something. Mother told me all this. Father has never
mentioned it to me. He occasionally reminds me that I am of good birth
and that is his only reference to England. Immediately after this row
with Grandfather, he met Mother and fell in love with her at first
sight. It was at a Charity Bazaar."
"Oh----!" I exclaimed involuntarily, but made out I was sneezing. I
remembered the conversation I had held with Harvie Price about Mrs. Pore
and the Charity Bazaar.
"Mother's people are noble, too. She was the daughter of a younger son
of the Earl of Garth, but she had not a penny to her name. When she met
my Father, she was visiting some very wealthy relatives who were
interested in her and preparing to launch her on the concert stage.
Mother had a wonderful voice, you know."
"Yes, Harvie Price told me that all the old sinners in your county went
to church to hear her sing."
"Well, Mother fell in love, too, and in spite of all that her rich
relatives had to say about her career, she married Father; and then what
did Grandfather, Sir Isaac Pore, do but stop Father's allowance? It was
not very much but it was enough for the young couple to live on if they
lived very simply. Sir Isaac thought he could force Father into taking
orders; but Father was opposed to doing this, feeling he was not suited
to the Church, and Mother upheld him in his resolve."
"They were right, I think. It seems an awful sin to me for a man just to
go into the ministry for a living," I ventured.
"Of course they were right. Then my parents were in a quandary. Father
had about two thousand dollars to his name and that wouldn't go very
far. They decided to come to America, he to go into some kind of
business and Mother to do something with her voice. They stayed in New
York for a year. He got some teaching, coaching boys for college, and
she sang in a church. Mother said they had a hard time. Father's manner
was proud and overbearing and he was so intolerant of Americans that he
lost pupils constantly. Then my brother was born and Mother had to give
up her position in the church."
"Oh, I did not know you had a brother!" I exclaimed.
"Yes, he died before I was born. He lived five years, I believe. I think
that is one reason Father does not love me more. You see, all of his
hopes were settled on the boy, who was in line for the title. My uncle,
the present baronet, has no boys. Well, they got on the best they could
until the boy died. They went from place to place, Father always able to
get pupils because of his talents and education and always losing them
because of his proud intolerance. Mother had lots of tact and charm and
she was always smoothing things over and pacifying Father."
[Illustration: "From Mother!" exclaimed the girl, trembling with
excitement.--_Page 156._]
"She must have loved him a whole lot not to have pacified him with a big
stick," I thought, but I did not give utterance to my reflection.
"They finally landed in Norfolk. I was born there, so you see, I am a
Virginian. While at Norfolk, Mother heard of the country store at
Price's Landing which could be bought for very little. She had come into
possession of a small legacy, and she immediately bought the store and
all the stock and we moved there and have been there ever since."
"English people are always getting small legacies. I never heard of
Americans getting them," I said as I plaited Annie's hair in the great
rope that was the envy of us all.
"We really have prospered at Price's Landing. Mother took charge of the
store a great deal and by her graciousness won customers, and when once
people get used to Father, they don't seem to mind his stiffness so
much; everybody but me; somehow, I'm always afraid of him," and Annie
looked very sadly at the crumpled letter in her lap.
"Mother was so gay and cheerful; I wish I could be like her. She would
sing at her work and Father would smile and look almost happy when he
would hear her voice."
"Don't you sing at your work ever?" I asked.
"No, no, I am so afraid of disturbing Father."
"I bet he'd like it. Why don't you try? Your voice must be like your
Mother's."
"Oh, I couldn't--really, Page. Well, to go on:
"Mother used to play a lovely game with me, and no one knew we were
playing it, which made it just so much more fun. We used to pretend
while we were keeping store that it was a Charity Bazaar----" (I laughed
aloud) "especially when dear old General Price came in for anything. You
see, most of the people at Price's Landing, while very kind and good,
are quite ordinary; but General Price is very aristocratic and fine, and
we could play the game with him to perfection. He had so much manner
that sometimes it almost seemed that he was playing, too." This was too
delicious, and here was I sworn to secrecy! I certainly did want to tell
Harvie Price, but a Father Confessor must keep many good things to
himself.
"Mother died when I was eleven." I made a rapid calculation how long
poor Annie must have been wearing the old crepe hat. "Since then, Father
and I have looked after the store together and now we have a clerk,"
only Annie called it "clark." "We are not so poor as we used to be and
the books show we are making a very comfortable living, but Father saves
and saves. He started doing it before Mother died and it worried her a
lot. She said he used to be a great spender and she had to do the
saving, but when money began to come more easily he seemed to hate to
part with it. She made him promise before she died that I should go to
boarding school or I know it would never have come about. Of course he
doesn't know how girls of the day dress and how odd I look, but even if
he did know I believe he would let me be ridiculous rather than spend
money on anything that he considered unnecessary." Annie's eyes
flashed, which was an improvement on the eternal tears she seemed so
prepared to shed.
"I am going to let you read this letter from him so you can see," and
she handed me the crumpled sheet. It was the letter which is in the last
chapter.
It was certainly some letter. I could not help comparing it with the one
I had just received from my Father, and also one that Tweedles had read
me from their Zebedee. I hardly knew what to say but I knew what to
think, and that was that one of the so-called "vulgar Americans" ought
to give him a good beating!
"Well, Annie, I wouldn't mind that letter. Your Governor evidently
doesn't understand girls. Let's have a look in the box." We cut the
string and took off the outside wrapper. The box was tightly corded.
"It is just as Mother left it," sighed Annie. "He didn't even open it to
see if the things in it were of any value for me. I'm glad he didn't,
because I like to feel that I am untying her knots myself."
We didn't cut those strings, but Annie carefully and reverently picked
loose the knots. When the top was taken off the box, there was a faint
smell of dried rose leaves. The contents were carefully wrapped in blue
tissue paper. "To keep the things from turning yellow with age,"
whispered Annie.
I felt somehow as though I were at a funeral. Annie didn't cry, though,
as one might have expected, but her countenance shone with a kind of
subdued light and she looked like an angel. She shook out a soft, white,
crepe de Chine dress made over silk. It looked as fresh as though it had
just come from the dressmaker's. In another wrapper was a lovely real
lace scarf and in yet another some white silk stockings.
"Oh, Annie, Annie!" and I jumped up and down for joy. "They are exactly
right for you! And see how carefully they have been packed! Not a
wrinkle in the dress! Here, take off your clothes and try it on."
"Mother wore it at the Charity Bazaar where she met Father. Her rich
cousin had just had it made for her," and the excited child began to
take off her shabby blouse and skirt.
"All you will need for the concert is white slippers and you will surely
wear mine just to let me know you love me," I begged.
Annie flushed and I was afraid her stubborn pride was going to master
her, but she astonished me by saying: "Yes, I will wear them if you will
lend them to me. I remember Mother told me she had to borrow slippers
from a friend that night, but she knew her friend loved her and so did
not mind."
I slipped the dress over her head, but as she pushed her arm into the
sleeve she stopped and drew her hand quickly out.
"Wait, the sleeve is pinned." So it was, and pinned through a letter
that was sealed and addressed to Annie.
"From Mother!" exclaimed the girl, trembling with excitement. "Every now
and then I find a little note from her. She knew she could not live for
a long time before she died." Out fluttered two ten-dollar bills and a
five wrapped in a tiny penciled note.
My Darling:
The time may come when you will wish to wear this
dress that I have saved so carefully for you; and
when that time comes you may also want a little
money that perhaps you will not have, money for
clothes, I mean. I give you this twenty-five
dollars for your very own, to spend as your needs
require. It is not much, but it may help you to
look like other girls. Fathers do not always
understand what girls need, but Mothers know. I
earned this money myself, giving singing lessons
to the blacksmith's daughter and you helped me by
keeping store while I taught, so you can take
added pleasure in spending it.
MOTHER.
Something happened right here that was to say the least unexpected: I,
Page Allison, gave up and cried like a baby. I know I hadn't cried so
since old Buster, my pointer, died. And Annie Pore, instead of bawling,
which she would have been perfectly justified in doing, never shed a
tear; but with that exalted look on her face, which she had worn from
the time she opened the box, she actually comforted me by patting me on
the back and smoothing my hair.
"Page, Page, it's all right; don't be so miserable," she said as she
endeavored to soothe me. So I blew my blooming nose and made her go on
trying on the dress. It was a wonderful fit, just a little too long for
a girl of fifteen, but we hemmed it up in no time. Strange to say,
although the dress was more than twenty years old, it was not out of
style but cut very much according to the prevailing mode. The truth of
the matter is that Dame Fortune is quite like the old preacher who wrote
a barrel of sermons, and when he had preached them all, he just turned
the barrel up-side-down and began again. Fashions and styles get put in
the barrel only to appear again after so many years.
"Have you a catalogue for a mail-order house, Page? Because I want to
spend my money right off."
"Yes, I'll get it for you just as soon as my nose dies down a little. I
don't want Tweedles to know I've been crying. What are you going to
get?"
"Plenty of middy blouses and a good skirt to wear with them, some
dancing slippers and some kind of simple dress I can put on in the
evening, if the money can be stretched to it."
I was sure it could with careful ordering; and in a few minutes I
thought my nose would bear inspection, so I went back to 117 to get the
catalogue. Tweedles was out visiting, so I did not have to run the
gauntlet of their curiosity.
Annie and I soon found exactly the right things in my wonder book, and
we had the letter written ordering the things before the warning bell
rang for visiting to cease.
"I fancy Father would be awfully cut up if he could know I am spending
all of this money on my clothes; but he needn't know anything about it.
I can wear my old things during the holidays and next summer----"
"Oh, Annie," I broke in, "you are making an awful mistake if you do not
let your Father know all about this letter from your Mother, and take
him into your confidence immediately. It wouldn't be fair to him if you
didn't."
"Not fair to Father! I never thought of such a thing. I am afraid he
will be awfully angry with me."
"How could he be? Aren't you doing exactly what your Mother tells you
to? I tell you, honey, it pays every time to be perfectly frank. You try
and see if it doesn't."
The warning bell rang and I had to beat a hasty retreat, but before I
went I kissed poor little Annie and she clung to me and whispered: "I
know you are right and I'll write to Father to-morrow and send him
Mother's letter."
"That's a good girl; but, Annie, get your letter off to New York for
your things first before the Governor has time to veto it."
"Well, what ho!" exclaimed the twins as they tore in to our rooms,
undressing as they came to beat the lights out bell to bed. "Tell us all
about Annie!"
"There's nothing to tell," I declared, making the mental reservation
that there was nothing I could tell, "except that her father sent her a
pretty white crepe de Chine dress that she is going to look charming in,
and she has consented to borrow my white slippers for the occasion."
"Oh, how splendid!" cried Dum. But Dee looked at me very solemnly and
said: "Page Allison, I know where to put my confidence. Annie Pore has
told you the story of her life and wild horses could not drag it from
you. I wouldn't have even known she had told if your precious little
freckled nose wasn't as red as a cherry." I felt awfully foolish but I
borrowed my policy from the Tar Baby "an' kep' on sayin' nothin'."
After the light was out, I gave a little audible chuckle as I lay there
going over in my mind the very exciting happenings of the evening. I
chuckled to think what Mabel Binks would say if she knew the despised
"Orphan Annie" was the granddaughter of a baronet on her father's side
and the great-granddaughter of an earl on her mother's.