THE VISIT
“She is such a real little lady,” Rock had told his mother, when
speaking of Cassy. “Indeed,” he added, “they are all of them much too
good to be living in that dirty, noisy street. I wish there was some
way to get them away from there, but I think Mrs. Law is very proud
and it wouldn’t do to seem to patronize them. I wish you’d think about
it, and see if you can’t get up some nice plan to put them where they
belong.”
So Mrs. Dallas had put on her thinking cap, and when little Eleanor
Dallas came to spend Easter at her uncle’s house, Mrs. Dallas said to
Rock: “How would it do to ask your little friend Cassy Law, to come and
play with Eleanor? If she is as well-behaved as you say, I should think
we might ask her. You know what a good-hearted child Eleanor is and I
am sure she will like to have a little girl to spend the day with her.
You see her Cousin Florence is still in Florida with her parents and
Eleanor will not have any playmate but you.”
“I think it would be a jolly plan,” Rock agreed, “and do you mind if
Jerry comes too? He’s a nice little chap; you remember I told you about
that affair with the little dog.”
“I see no objection to his coming, but I think we’ll have him come in
the afternoon, but Cassy might spend the day and there will be a good
chance to get acquainted with her.” And that was how Cassy came to be
asked.
The prospect of this visit did much towards comforting the children
after the milkman had borne away the little dog, and they made it their
chief subject of conversation. They hoped it would be a pleasant day,
that the little girl would be just like Rock, that John McClure would
not be too busy, and that they would be allowed to play in the garden.
“Shall I wear my best frock?” Cassy asked her mother one of the first
things.
“Yes, you will have to; it is growing too small for you anyhow.” Mrs.
Law sighed. “You’d better bring it to me and let me see if there is
anything to be done to it.”
Cassy obeyed. Her plaid frock was the best she had; it was not of very
good material, but it was simply made, and so did not look as badly as
it would have done if it had been fussy and showy. It was rather short
in the sleeves and waist as well as in the skirt, and after looking it
over Mrs. Law said, “If I had time, I might be able to alter it, but I
am afraid you will have to wear it as it is this time, for I have all I
can do to get this work done by Saturday.”
“I will help you all I can,” said Cassy wistfully.
“I know you will, dear child, but you cannot sew for me, and there are
things beyond your little strength which only I can do, and on Saturday
morning Jerry must be at the market, for we can’t afford to let that
go. Hang up the dress again.”
Cassy did as she was told, yet she did wish that she had a new frock
for this unusual occasion. She wondered if the little girl she was
going to see would be very finely dressed, and she found as the time
approached that she rather dreaded the visit. But for the fact that she
knew and liked Rock and John McClure, she would almost have preferred
to stay at home with Flora and Miss Morning-Glory; and when at last she
did set out it was with many misgivings.
She was very conscious of the shortness of her sleeves, and the
shabbiness of her shoes, though Jerry had blackened up these latter to
the best of his ability, and they both agreed that the little cracks in
the sides did not show so very much.
The little girl’s heart was beating very fast as she approached the old
Dallas place. Was she to go up the front steps and ring the bell, or
was she to go around to the side gate and enter that way? She had not
thought to ask, and not to do the proper thing would be dreadful.
Finally, after a thoughtful pause, she slowly ascended the steps. If
she were going to see a little girl whose uncle’s house this was, she
must surely enter as did other visitors, her judgment very wisely told
her. She was spared any further confusion, for the door had hardly
been opened by the neat maid when Rock appeared, saying: “We’ve been
watching for you. Eleanor hoped you’d come early. Come right in. Here
she is, Eleanor.” And then Rock led her into a room furnished in rich
warm colors, and with bookcases all around the walls.
From the depths of a big chair sprang a little girl who looked, as
Cassy afterwards told her mother, exactly like Miss Morning-Glory; blue
eyes, pink cheeks, and angel curls were all hers.
“I’m so glad to see you,” said Eleanor sweetly. “Will you go up-stairs
and take off your hat, or will you take it off here?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said Cassy bashfully. Her hat seemed such a
very, very insignificant thing beside all this grandeur, but she took
it off and held it in her lap.
Eleanor gently took it from her.
“I will hang it up here in the hall,” she said, “and you will know
where it is when you want it.”
This done the two little girls sat looking at each other, feeling
rather embarrassed. Eleanor was older and taller than Cassy; moreover
as hostess she felt it her duty to begin the talking, and she ventured
the first remark.
“It is such a pleasant spring day. We were afraid that it might rain
and that then you wouldn’t come.”
Cassy felt pleased, but did not know exactly what to say in reply.
“Are you the only girl?” Eleanor asked.
“Yes,” Cassy replied; “there are only Jerry and me.”
“I am the only one,” Eleanor told her. “Don’t you wish you had a
sister? I often do.”
“Yes, so do I,” Cassy answered. She would like to have told Eleanor of
the new friend of her fancy, Miss Morning-Glory, but she did not feel
well enough acquainted yet, and for a little while the two children sat
looking at each other wondering what to say next. Then Rock came in.
“How is the puppy?” he asked.
“Oh, didn’t you know? He has gone to live with the milkman,” Cassy told
him. “Mother thought he would be so much better off there. He lives in
the country, you know, and he said Ragged Robin was a real nice little
fellow, and he’d be glad to have him, but we were awfully sorry to let
him go.”
“Is that the little dog you were telling me about?” asked Eleanor,
turning to Rock.
“Yes, you know, Jerry saved him from that pack of boys,” he made
answer. “Why don’t you take Cassy up-stairs to the sitting-room,
Eleanor? It is lots more cheerful up there; or maybe she’d rather go
into the garden, she’s such a lover of flowers.”
“We might go up-stairs and see Aunt Dora first,” said Eleanor, “and go
to the garden after a while. Don’t you think so, Cassy?”
Cassy agreed, although in her secret heart she preferred the garden
first, last, and always. Then up-stairs they went to a bright sunny
room which Cassy thought the prettiest she had ever seen.
There was a big table, covered with magazines, in the middle of the
floor; the window held flowering plants; a number of comfortable chairs
and a wide, soft lounge looked as if they were meant for every-day use,
while the room had just enough pretty trifles in it to make it look
well. The pictures on the walls were a few water-colors, flower pieces
and landscapes; while the walls themselves were a soft green with a
border of trailing roses. Sitting by the window was a pretty woman, as
charming as the room itself.
“Aunt Dora,” said Eleanor, “this is Cassy Law.”
Mrs. Dallas held out her hand.
“I am so glad you could come, Cassy,” she said. “I know Eleanor and you
will enjoy playing together. What do you say to having this room to
play in this morning? You are going to have luncheon in the garden, or
at least Rock has a little scheme that he and John are carrying out,
and unless you would specially like to play there, I have my suspicions
that they would rather you would keep out of the way this morning, and
let them give you a surprise. You can have the whole afternoon there,
you know.”
“Oh, do let it be a surprise,” exclaimed Eleanor. “I love surprises.
Don’t you, Cassy?”
“Sometimes,” she replied. She felt rather shy as yet, and stood
somewhat in awe of this pretty lady in her dainty morning gown.
“I am going to lend Cassy the dolls to play with,” said Mrs. Dallas to
Eleanor, “Rock’s and mine, you know; and you will have your precious
Rubina, so you will both be provided.” She left the room for a moment
and returned bringing a doll dressed in boy’s clothes and another in
girl’s clothes; the latter was quite an old-fashioned one.
“These are Marcus Delaplaine and Flora McFlimsey,” said Mrs. Dallas.
“They are both Rock’s now, although Flora used to be mine when I was
a little girl, so naturally she is much older than Marcus. Rock was
always fonder of his own doll when he was a little fellow. He used
to say he felt more at home with him. You know where the piece bag
is, Eleanor, and if you want to make doll’s clothes you can help
yourselves. You don’t have to call the doll Flora if you’d rather name
her something else,” she said, smiling down at Cassy, and holding the
doll of her childish days affectionately.
“Oh, but I would like to,” Cassy replied. “My doll is named Flora.”
“Is she? then it will seem quite natural to you.” She smiled again
and nodding to the two girls, she left them together in the pleasant
room. It was not long before they were playing like old friends. Indeed
before the morning was over Cassy felt so at home with Eleanor that she
told her all about Miss Morning-Glory, and had confessed her discomfort
at having to wear a frock she had so nearly outgrown.
Eleanor comforted her upon this last score.
“I am sure it is a real pretty plaid,” she said, “and the warm weather
is coming when you won’t have to wear it.” Nevertheless, Cassy knew
that she had nothing else so good, and that it would be some time
before she could lay this aside. Eleanor was quite taken with the idea
of Cassy’s imaginary friend, and suggested that she should make a third
in their plays. “It is just as easy to make believe that she is here as
to make believe that the dolls can talk,” she declared. “What does she
look like?”
“She looks just like you,” Cassy told her a little timidly.
“Oh, then, I’ll be Miss Morning-Glory,” declared Eleanor. “Would you
like that?”
Cassy’s eyes showed her pleasure, as she nodded “Yes.”
“Then you won’t feel as if I were a stranger at all, and you can talk
to me just as you do to her,” Eleanor went on to say.
This did place Cassy upon easier terms with her new friend, and if
Eleanor was sometimes surprised by Cassy’s odd remarks, she was none
the less interested in the little girl, though she did not wonder that
Cassy’s schoolmates called her Miss Oddity. A little girl who felt
entirely at home with spiders, who thought daddy-long-legs fascinating,
and who would make such remarks as: “You remember the dear little
inching-worm I had last summer, Miss Morning-Glory. I always feel so
sorry to think I shall never see it again,” was a queer person surely.
About one o’clock Rock appeared.
“What time will Jerry be here?” he asked Cassy.
“What time is it?”
“One o’clock.”
“Oh, then he can’t be long, for he is generally at home by half-past
twelve, at the latest, on Saturdays.”
“Are you all ready for us, Rock?” asked Eleanor. “I am just wild to see
what you have been doing.”
Rock smiled. “You will see very soon.”
“Are we going to eat luncheon out of doors?”
“Not exactly.”
“Oh dear! I wish Jerry would come.” Eleanor could not curb her
impatience.
“There he is now,” cried Rock. “Come, girls.” And the three rushed
down-stairs and into the garden to meet Jerry, who was standing with
John McClure waiting for them.
“You want to see what we have been doing, don’t you, Miss Eleanor?”
said John, smiling at Eleanor’s eagerness. “Well, come along.” And he
led the way down to the foot of the garden where stood a small brick
building that was used in winter for the storage of flower-pots, bulbs
and such like things.
[Illustration: “THEY PLAYED ALL SORTS OF GAMES”]
As John opened the door the children exclaimed, “Oh, how fine!” for
it was like a fairy bower. Along the shelves at each side were ranged
flowering plants, and pots of trailing vines. On the floor reaching
up to the shelves were boxes of blooming shrubs and palms; two canary
birds, in their cages swung in the windows, were singing blithely. In
the middle of the floor a table was spread; a centerpiece of ferns and
pansies ornamented it, and at each one’s place was a little bunch of
sweet violets tied with green and purple ribbons. A pretty basket
at each end of the table was tied with the same colors; one basket was
filled with sticks of chocolate tied with the lilac and green, and the
other held delicate green and purple candies.
“It is just lovely, Rock!” cried Eleanor. “Did you do it all yourself?
I think it is lovely, and—oh, yes, I see, to-morrow will be Easter, and
that is why you can use all the flowers and plants before they are sent
to the church.”
The luncheon that was served, though not a very elaborate one, seemed
so to Cassy and Jerry; they felt as if suddenly transported to an
Arabian Night’s entertainment, and they looked across the table at each
other with smiling eyes.
When the luncheon was over they played all sorts of games, up and
down the garden walks and in among the trees and shrubbery. The day
would have been one full of content, without a cloud, but for a single
accident.
The two girls were hiding in the tool-house, when Eleanor caught sight
of a chrysalis swinging from above them.
“Oh,” she cried, “I do believe that is a fine chrysalis of some kind,
a rare moth or butterfly. I am going to get it, and see what it will
turn out.” She clambered upon some boards to reach the prize, Cassy
deeply interested watching her, when suddenly her foot slipped and she
knocked from a lower shelf a can of green paint which went down splash
upon the floor, spattering Cassy from head to foot.
Cassy was overwhelmed, for poor as the dress was and half ashamed of
it as she had been, nevertheless it was the best she had, and her eyes
filled with tears. Eleanor, as distressed as her visitor, was at her
side in an instant.
“Oh, what have I done? What have I done?” she cried. “Oh, dear, oh,
dear! I am afraid it won’t come out. Let us go to Aunt Dora; she will
know what to do.” She caught Cassy by the hand and sped with her into
the house, calling “Aunt Dora, Aunt Dora, do come and help us! It was
all my fault. I have ruined Cassy’s dress.”
Mrs. Dallas appeared at the door of the bathroom where Eleanor had gone
with Cassy to try the effect of hot water.
“You didn’t mean to,” put in Cassy hastily.
“No, of course not. My foot slipped, Aunt Dora. I was climbing up for
a chrysalis that was in the tool-house, and I knocked the can from the
shelf.”
“Cassy had better take her frock off,” said Mrs. Dallas, “and I
will see what benzine will do. I am afraid it will not take it out
altogether, and that it will leave a stain, but we will try it. Call
Martha, Eleanor, and we will do our best with it.”
Much abashed Cassy removed her frock and after some time the paint
was taken out as far as possible, but it did leave a stain, and where
the spots were rubbed the goods was roughened and unsightly. Cassy’s
stockings and shoes, too, were spattered, but the latter were easily
cleaned, and Eleanor furnished her with a pair of clean stockings, so
this much was readily settled. The frock was another matter, and poor
Cassy had visions of staying at home from church, from Sunday-school,
and upon all sorts of occasions that required something beside the
faded, patched, every-day frock which she wore to school. She could
hardly keep back her tears when Mrs. Dallas and Eleanor left her in the
latter’s room while they went off to air the unfortunate frock.
PLEASANT DREAMS