THE FRIENDLESS FRIENDS
Margaret came to school in great excitement one Monday morning. "I'm
going to have a party," she said to Edna. "I'll tell you all about it at
recess."
The idea of Margaret's really having a party was most interesting when
Edna remembered that it had been just a year since she was adopted by
Mrs. MacDonald. She had improved very much in this time, both in speech
and manner, and no happier child could be found than she. To be sure she
had everything to make her happy, as Dorothy often said, a beautiful
home, a kind mother and friends who took pains to make her forget how
forlorn she had once been. She was very grateful for all these things,
and rarely asked for anything more than was offered to her, so that Mrs.
MacDonald was all the more ready to give her pleasures which she did not
ask for.
Jennie and Dorothy were admitted into the little group which gathered to
hear about the party. "Tell us all about it, Margaret," said Edna. "Just
begin at the beginning."
"Well," said Margaret, "mother was saying to me on Saturday evening,
'Margaret, do you know it is almost a year since you became my own
little daughter? Now I think we ought to celebrate the day of your
coming to your home. What would you like to do?' So I thought and
thought, and then I said, 'I never had a party in all my life, would it
be too much to celebrate by having one?' and she said, 'Not at all,
though I should first like to know what girls you would like to
invite,' and I told her all the G. R. Club. 'Anyone else?' she asked,
and I thought of Nettie Black. 'I'd like to have Nettie,' I said, and
then I remembered how lonely I used to be even at the Friendless, and
how glad I used to be when you came to see me, Edna, and I thought of
two or three who were still there, girls who haven't been adopted, and I
said I'd like to have them. Then mother said, 'Very well, only the
others may not want to come if you have poor children like them, and
you'd better ask the girls, and if they refuse you can make up your mind
which you would rather have, the girls of the club or the
Friendlessers.'"
"Oh, Margaret, you know we won't care," said Edna earnestly.
"I knew _you_ wouldn't, but I didn't know about them all. I shall have
to ask, you see, because it seems to me that of all the people I know,
the Friendlessers are the very ones who ought to come when it is to
celebrate my coming away from there, and then, too they don't have good
times like we do."
The girls all called the Home of the Friendless "The Friendless" and the
children there, "The Friendlessers" so they knew quite well whom
Margaret meant.
"How soon is the party to be?" asked Jennie.
"Next Saturday afternoon. The Friendlessers can come then better than
any other time, and besides we live out of town, and it will be easier
for everyone to come in the afternoon."
"I shall come," said Dorothy decidedly, "and I think it is a beautiful
idea for you to have the Friendlessers."
"And of course I shall come," put in Jennie.
"I know my sister will," said Edna.
"And mine," echoed Dorothy.
"There is one thing I hope you won't mind my saying," said Margaret;
"mother says please not to wear party frocks, and not to dress up much,
on account of the Friendlessers, you know, for of course they won't have
any."
"Of course not," agreed the girls.
"Mother says we can have just as good a time if we are not dressed up
and as long as it is going to be in the daytime it won't make so much
difference."
"Let's go tell the other girls," suggested Edna.
They hunted up Agnes, Celia and the rest of the club members and did not
find one who objected to the presence of the "Friendlessers."
However, when the news of Margaret's party was noised abroad, there was
much scorn on the part of the Neighborhood Club. "The idea," said Clara,
"of going to a party with orphan asylum children! I'd like to see my
mother allowing me to associate with such creatures. I can't think what
Jennie Ramsey's mother can be thinking of to allow her to go. Besides,
Margaret is an orphan asylum girl herself and no better than the rest!
I'm sure I wouldn't be seen at her party."
"And they're not even going to wear party frocks, nor so much as white
ones," said Gertrude Crane. "I don't see what fun it will be."
"And I suppose there are to be no boys," put in Clara.
"I haven't heard whether there are to be or not," returned Gertrude.
The question of boys did come up later when Mrs. MacDonald asked
Margaret if she did not think it would be well to invite Frank and
Charley Conway, as one of the "Friendlessers" was a boy. The two Porter
boys who came out often to play with the Conway boys, were thought of
and were invited, and when Edna returned home on Friday evening Cousin
Ben informed her that he, too, was going.
"Why, Cousin Ben," she said in pleased surprise, "how does that happen,
when you are such a big boy, really a man, you know?"
"I must confess I fished for an invitation," he told her. "Mrs.
MacDonald was over here to ask if Charlie and Frank could come and I
said, 'What's the matter with asking me, too?' and so I got my invite. I
wouldn't miss it for a six-pence." Cousin Ben and Mrs. MacDonald were
great friends and he was quite intimate at the big gray house so it was
no wonder that he wanted to be at Margaret's first party.
It was as Ben said "a queer mix-up." The first to arrive were the four
children from the Home of the Friendless, three little girls and one
little boy. One of the teachers brought them out and remained in order
to take them back again. The big gray house looked cheerful and more
attractive than usual, for flowers were Mrs. MacDonald's great pleasure
and they were everywhere, making up for the plainness of the
furnishings, for Mrs. MacDonald did not believe in showiness. Her house
was thoroughly comfortable but not elegant.
These first arrivals were very shy, quite awe-stricken and sat on the
edges of their chairs scarce daring to move until Margaret took them out
to see the greenhouses. After that they were a little more at their ease
for each came back with a flower. By a little after three all had
arrived, the Porter boys with their Punch and Judy show which they had
promised to bring, and Ben with his banjo. All the girls wore plain
frocks with no extra ornaments, Margaret herself being not much better
dressed than her friends from the Home.
The Punch and Judy show was given first as a sort of prelude to the
games which were to follow, and in these even the older girls joined
with spirit. The main idea seemed to be that everyone should do his or
her best to make the party a success and to give the poorer children as
good a time as possible. Ben, be it said, was the life of the occasion.
He kept everyone going, never allowed a dull moment, and if nothing else
was planned, he would pick up his banjo and give a funny coon song, so
that it was no wonder Mrs. MacDonald was glad to have invited him.
Probably in all their lives the Friendlessers never forgot the wonderful
table to which they were led when refreshments were served, and which
they talked of for weeks afterward. Here there was no stint and the
decorations were made as beautiful as possible. There were pretty little
favors for everyone, and such good things to eat as would have done
credit to any entertainment. It was all over at six o'clock, but not one
went away with a feeling of having had a stupid time, for even the older
girls agreed among themselves that it had been great fun.
"Did you ever see anything like those children's eyes when they saw that
table," said Agnes smiling at the recollection.
"It must have been like a fairy tale to them, poor little things,"
replied Helen Darby. "I think it was a perfectly lovely thing for Mrs.
MacDonald to do. Won't I have fun telling father about it, and how
interested he will be. He has been quizzing me all day about my orphan
asylum party, but I know he liked my going."
"I liked that little Nettie Black," Florence remarked. "She has such a
nice quaint little face, like an old-fashioned picture. Her name ought
to be Prudence or Charity or some of those queer old names. Where did
you pick her up, Edna?"
"Oh, she is the little girl that I kept house with at the time of the
blizzard," Edna told her. "She lives just a short way up the side road,
and she is a very nice child."
"I found that out," returned Florence. "Why doesn't she belong to our
club?"
"Because she doesn't go to our school."
"To be sure, I forgot that. Well, she could be made an honorary member
or something, couldn't she Agnes?"
"Why, I should think so. We'll have to bring that up at our next
meeting. Would she like to belong to the club, do you think, Edna?"
"She would just love to, I know."
"Then we'll have to fix it some way. I'll ask mother or Mrs. Conway what
we can do."
"I don't know how we could all get into their parlor," said Edna
doubtfully; "it is so very tiny."
"We don't have to," Agnes told her, "for you know the general club-room
is up in our attic and I'm sure that is big enough for anyone. If Nettie
comes into the club, when her turn comes for a meeting it can be held in
the general club-room."
This was very satisfactory, but it did not do away with another
difficulty which came to Edna's mind. She knew that Mrs. Black had
barely enough means to get along on with the utmost economy and how
Nettie could ever furnish even simple refreshments for a dozen or more
girls she did not know. However, she would not worry about that till the
time came. As yet Nettie was not even a member of the club.
Margaret's party was talked about at school almost as much after as
before it came off. Those who had been present discoursed upon the good
time they had had, and those who were not there wished they had been.
But to offset it, there came the report that Clara Adams was going to
have a party and that it would be in the evening and was expected to be
a gorgeous affair. Jennie Ramsey was invited but had not made up her
mind whether she wanted to go or not. As most of those who would be
invited were the children of Mrs. Adams's friends and were not
schoolmates of Clara's it did not seem to Jennie that she would have a
very good time.
"It will be all fuss and feathers," she told Dorothy and Edna, "and I
won't know half the children there, besides I shall hear so much talk
about what I shall wear and all that, I believe I'd rather stay at
home."
"Clara is going to wear a lace frock over pink silk, I heard her say,"
Dorothy told them.
"I should think that would be very pretty," declared Edna admiringly.
"I'd rather be dressed as we were at Margaret's," Jennie returned, "for
then we could romp around and not care anything about what happened to
our clothes." Jennie hadn't a spark of vanity and cared so little for
dress as to be a surprise to the others.
"Of course that was nice, but I should like the pretty clothes, too,"
rejoined Edna with honesty.
"They won't do anything, either, but dance and sit around and look at
each other," continued Jennie. "I'd much rather play games like 'Going
to Jerusalem' and 'Forfeits' and all those things we did at Margaret's.
I have all the dancing I want at dancing-school. No, I shall tell my
mother I don't want to go." Jennie had made up her mind, and that was
the end of the matter for her.
Therefore the others heard very little of what went on at Clara's party.
That it came off they knew, and there was much talk of what this one or
that one wore, of how late they stayed and how many dances they had, but
that was all, and the stay-at-homes decided that, after all they had not
missed much, and if Clara's intention was to rouse their envy she failed
of her purpose.
At the next meeting of the club Nettie was voted in as an honorary
member. "That seems to be about the only thing we can do," Agnes
announced, "and everyone seems to want her." So the thing was done.
If there was one thing above another which Nettie did long for it was to
become a member of the club whose wonderful doings she had heard so much
of from Edna. The two had seen each other often, and now that the spring
was nearing, rarely a Saturday came but that they met. It was Edna who
took her the joyful news on Friday evening.
"I've something perfectly lovely to tell you," she announced as soon as
she was inside the door of the little house.
"What?" asked Nettie with a quick smile of interest.
"You're going to be a member of our club."
"Oh, Edna, how can I be? I don't go to your school."
"I know, and that is why we had to make you an honorary member," Agnes
said.
"Oh, I think you are all the dearest things I ever knew," cried Nettie.
Then her face fell, "But, oh, Edna, how can we get all of you girls in
this little bit of a house?"
"Oh, you can meet in the general club-room at the Evanses," Edna told
her. "Agnes says so and it is in their attic, you know. When a girl
can't very well have the meeting at her house we have it there. Once it
was to be at Betty Lowndes's house and her little sister had the
chicken-pox so we couldn't meet there and we had it in the attic."
Nettie's face cleared, but presently a new difficulty presented itself,
one which she hesitated to speak of but which was a very serious one.
How should she tell Edna what was in her mind? But she remembered that
Edna had seen the poverty of the family stores and that there was no
need to make any pretence to her. "There's another thing," she began, "I
haven't any money, and I couldn't ask mother for refreshments."
"I thought of that," answered Edna; "we might give them rice," and then
they both laughed. "If there were only some way you could earn some
money and I could help you," continued Edna with more seriousness.
"Perhaps we could think of some way. If it were something we could both
do, I could help you."
"You are always so good that way," replied Nettie gratefully.
"Well, anyhow," said Edna, "it won't be for some time yet that you have
to have the meeting and perhaps we can think of something. If we can't
would you mind if I ask mother what we could do?"
"I'd rather not," replied Nettie doubtfully, "not unless you have to."
"Then I won't unless I have to."
"Perhaps my mother can think of a way, only I don't want to say anything
to her, for she will feel badly because she can't let me have the money,
and I know I ought not to ask her for it. I won't ask, of course, but if
I tell it will be the same as asking, and it will make her feel so
unhappy if she must say no, she can't."
"Then we must try very hard to think of a way without telling anyone.
You wouldn't need so very much, you know, Nettie, for we can have real
cheap things like peanuts and gingerbread, or something like that. I
believe fifty cents would be enough to spend, and a dollar would be
plenty."
This seemed like a large amount to Nettie, though she did not say so,
and the thought of earning that much weighed heavily upon her after Edna
had gone home.
Edna's thoughts, too, were busy all the evening, and she was so absorbed
in Nettie's dilemma that she sat with arms on the table and doing
nothing but looking off into space so that at last her father said.
"What's the matter, little girl? You haven't even asked for your
favorite children's page of my evening paper," and he handed it over to
her.
This was something that Edna always asked for and she took it now with
some little interest, and roused herself to look down the columns.
Presently she breathed softly. "Oh!" She had seen something which gave
her an idea for Nettie, and she went to bed that night full of a hope
which she meant her friend should know as soon as possible the next
day.