WINTER FLOWERS AND THE PARTY.
Squire King was one of the most liberal of men, and he had something to
be liberal with. He had gradually gone more and more into the spirit of
the young folks' party matter, and had even astonished his wife by the
things he did and proposed.
To have had actual dancing would have offended some of the best people
in the village; but every other kind of amusement that was to be
tolerated he provided for, and he almost doubled the allowance of
ice-cream and confectionery. He had no idea, nor had even his wife, what
an amount of work and of contriving they had provided for their
neighbors. Every store in Benton Village, and some over in Cobbleville,
did a better business from the hour in which Mrs. King's invitations
were delivered.
The family at the Farnham homestead seemed to concentrate their interest
upon the kind of appearance Susie Hudson was to make. Even Pen remarked
to her,--
"They all know me, and they won't care so much how I look; but you're
from the city, and every one of 'em'll look at you as soon as you come
in."
Susie had brought a good enough wardrobe with her; and aunt Judith
herself declared it extravagant, but at the same time selected the best
things in it for use at Mrs. King's party.
"I shall have no trouble at all," said Susie. "There needn't be any
thing added to that dress."
"No," said Pen, "it's mine that's got to be added to." But there was one
lady in the neighborhood who was of a different opinion.
The very morning of the party, Mrs. Stebbins said to her son,--
"I don't keer if you do miss a day's schoolin'. You jest hitch up the
colt after breakfast."
"Going somewhere?"
"I'll tell you after we're a-going. It won't be any short drive, now.
I'm going to hev my own notions for once. She's the nicest gal I know
of."
"Do you mean Susie Hudson?"
"I'll show you what I mean, and if I don't open somebody's eyes!"
She evidently had some plot or other on her mind, and she grew almost
red in the face over it at the breakfast-table. She finished putting
away the dishes while Vosh was out getting ready the colt and cutter,
but she did not seem disposed to tell even herself precisely what her
plans were. It was not until she and her deeply interested driver were
actually driving into Benton that she came out with it.
"Vosh," she said, "take right down the main street, and out the
Cobbleville road. We're going way to cousin Jasper's."
"That's three miles beyond. Well, it isn't much of a drive in such
sleighing as this is. The colt's feeling prime. But what's it for?"
"We're going all the way to cousin Jasper Harding's; and, if the frost
hasn't clean killed out his hot-house, I'm going to hev somethin' for
Susie Hudson that the rest on 'em can't get a hold of. The last time I
seen him he said his plants was doing first-rate, and he'd put in
steam-pipe enough to save 'em if the frost was a-splitting the rocks. He
hasn't any use for 'em on earth, except that he had lettuce and radishes
for his Christmas dinner."
There was steady work for the sorrel colt after that, and the bells
jingled the merriest kind of tune right through Cobbleville without
stopping. When "cousin Jasper's" was reached, it was nothing but a
long-built, story-and-a-half white house, with no pretension whatever.
There were young fruit-trees around it in all directions, and uncommonly
extensive trellises for vines; and at one end the glass roof of a
hot-house barely lifted itself above the snow-banks. One man, at least,
in that region, had materially added to his other resources for winter
enjoyment.
"He says it doesn't cost him any thing to speak of," said Mrs. Stebbins
to Vosh. "He's got some fixings rigged to the big stove in the parlor,
to send the steam around the hot-house, and the fire doesn't go out in
that stove all winter long. I'd kind o' like to try it some day myself.
It's the getting started that costs money."
"And then," said Vosh, "there's the knowing how to do it."
He thought so again after he got into that bit of a winter garden, and
looked around him. Cousin Jasper Harding was an under-sized man, and his
wife was a short woman of twice his weight. They could stand erect where
Vosh had to stoop a little; but he could stand up in the middle, and see
what they pointed out to him. Both were glad to see him and his mother,
and to have them stay to dinner; but, for some reason or other, Mrs.
Stebbins was slow about opening her errand. Vosh wondered a little, but
he waited and listened. It was at the dinner-table that she began to
tell about the young folks' party to be at Mrs. King's that evening.
From that she went over to Deacon Farnham's, and told about Susie
Hudson, and how pretty she was, and about her skating, and all the nice
evenings at the deacon's, and at last somewhat suddenly inquired,--
"Didn't you use to think a good deal of Joshaway Farnham and his wife,
and Judith, and"--
"Best friends I ever had in my life."
"I was thinking, Jasper. City girls are used to having a sprig of
something to wear in their dresses to a party. Now, I know it would
please Joshaway and Sarah and Judith if you'd send a bit of something
green,--jest a leaf or so, not to rob any of your plants. There ain't
many of 'em, and cutting 'em might hurt 'em; and where a man hasn't but
a little"--
"Something green? Guess so. There's more in that hot-house than you
think there is, Angeline."
"Well, maybe there is. It looks too nice to take out any thing of what
few plants you've got."
"You just finish your pie, and come along. I'll show you something you
think I can't do. I'd like to do a favor for any girl of that family.
Tell her I knowed her mother 'fore she was born. I'll go right in now;
be ready by the time you get there.--Betsey, you keep Angeline company,
and I'll show her something."
He certainly astonished both her and Vosh. As she afterwards explained
to the latter, no money could have made him part with any of his
hot-house treasures as a direct sale, nor would he have given them for
the asking. She had to get them the way she did; but there they were.
"That's for her throat-latch, Angeline; and she can put that on her
waistband,--little fellows, you know. She can carry that in her hand;
and, if she wants to send her photygraph to old Jasper Harding and his
wife, she can. I'll hang it up in the hot-house."
Mrs. Stebbins had a great deal to say about those flowers and green
leaves, and the skill with which they had been cultivated and now were
put together, and she added,--
"Now, Betsey, Vosh and I must go. Jasper's bokay and the buds'll be worn
by the nicest and prettiest gal at Mrs. King's party, and I wish you two
were going to be there to see."
In a few minutes more the colt was brought from his dinner in the barn,
Mrs. Stebbins was in the cutter guarding her prizes, the liberal florist
was thanked again, and then the bells made lively music homeward.
Very complete was the astonishment on all the faces in the Farnham
sitting-room when Mrs. Stebbins walked in, and announced the results of
her morning's undertaking. The sorrel colt had trotted twenty miles and
more for the sake of Susie Hudson; but it was Vosh's mother who got
kissed for it, and that was probably sound justice. She also received an
invitation to go and come in Deacon Farnham's sleigh, and so the sorrel
colt did save an evening job in cold weather.
Vosh was particularly glad of that invitation. He was a young man of a
good deal of courage, but it seemed to him that he could march into Mrs.
King's front parlor more easily with a crowd than with only his mother
or alone. Corry was not troubled in that way, nor Penelope; and Porter
Hudson was only too well aware that he was from the city, and had been
to parties before. He had no doubt whatever that he would know how to do
the right things in the right place, but that was just where Vosh
Stebbins found his courage called for. He made a mental chessboard of
Mrs. King's premises, and the people who were to be in them, and found
that he could not place the pieces to suit himself. He was the worst
piece in the whole lot whenever he arranged one of those society
problems. It was a game he had never played, and he was only half sure
he could win at it. He was confident of being as well dressed as was
necessary, except that he wondered whether or not any one would wear
gloves. His mother settled that for him, and Mr. Rosenstein could have
told him that only three young men in Benton had bought any. These had
run the risk of it, meaning to put them on if it should be necessary.
One had purchased white kids, and another a black pair, while the third
had heard that bright yellow was the correct thing. The pair he selected
were very bright and very yellow.
Susie Hudson's dress did not trouble aunt Judith's mind after she saw it
on, and she remarked of it,--
"Now, Sarah, I'm glad there isn't any thing showy about it. It's just
the best thing. She isn't looking as if she was putting on. It'll be all
the prettier when the flowers are there, and nobody else'll have any."
It was simple, tasteful, of very good material, and there was no
question as to the good effect of the flowers. Susie was all but sorry
that she was to be alone in that particular; and so, as soon as she got
there, was every other girl in the room.
The deacon's hired man lived at some distance down the road, but he came
up to look out for the team, and was sent first to the Stebbins house.
Vosh and his mother were ready, and he was thinking of his new white
silk necktie when he came to the door with her. The man in the sleigh
could not hear him think, and did not know what a burden a necktie can
be; but he did hear Mrs. Stebbins remark,--
"Now, Lavawjer, the one thing you're to remember is, that you mustn't
talk too much. Let other folks do the talking, and, if you keep your
eyes about ye, you may learn something."
He had already begun not to talk too much, for hardly a word escaped him
till they got to the Farnham gate.
"I'll go in and see if they're ready," he said, and was preparing to get
out.
"I guess I'll go in too," added his mother. "I'd like to see how they're
all a-looking."
At that moment, however, the front-door swung open, and a procession
marched out, headed by Pen, and closed, as was the door behind it, by
her father.
"We're all fixed, Vosh," said Pen. "My back hair's in two braids, and
Susie's got a bracelet with a gold bug on it, and Port's got on his
summer shoes, and aunt Judith"--
Just there her account of the condition of things was cut off by the
general confusion of getting into the sleigh, but Pen made up for it
afterwards. Vosh again showed a strong tendency to take his mother's
advice, and the drive to the village was by no means a long one. They
were not any too early, and had to wait for three other sleigh-loads to
get out, before theirs could be drawn in front of the pathway cut
through the drifts to the sidewalk. Only one of Mrs. King's guests was
very late that evening, and he was a young man who was learning to play
the flute, and had heard that fashionable people never went anywhere
till after nine o'clock. Besides, it took him an hour or so to decide
not to carry his flute with him.
It helped Vosh a great deal, that they all had to go to the
dressing-rooms first, and unwrap themselves. After that, it all came
easier than he had expected, for Squire King and his wife had a hearty,
kindly way of welcoming people. Perhaps it helped him somewhat, that
they had no opportunity to say too much to him just then, and he could
go right on following his mother's advice.
There was a stir in the rooms, that Susie did not at all understand,
when she and her brother passed on to mingle with the rest of the young
people. Some of them had seen her before, and some had not, and all of
them were taking a deeper interest in her dress and appearance than she
had any idea of. It was as well for her comfort, that she was ignorant
of it, and that she did not hear eleven different young ladies assure
each other, "She must have sent away to the city for those flowers."
Her uncle and aunts were exceedingly proud of her, and so was Pen. In
fact, the latter informed several persons whom she knew, "She's my
cousin Susie, and she's the prettiest girl there is here; but I don't
believe I shall look much like her when I grow up."
Squire King asked her why not, when she told him, and was at once
informed,--
"Susie's never been freckled, and mine won't ever come off. They go away
round to the back of my neck. Most all the girls here have got 'em, but
they don't amount to any thing."
"Freckles, or girls either," laughed the squire. "But, Pen, does your
cousin play the piano?"
"Of course she does, only we haven't any, and so she's learned how to
spin. She can crochet, but I showed her how to heel a stocking, and so
did aunt Judith."
"I'm sure she can," remarked Mrs. King. "I'll go and ask her myself."
That was not until the party had been in full operation for some time;
and quite a number were wondering what it was best to do next, when Mrs.
King led Susie to the piano. Several of the local musicians had already
done their duty by it, and Susie had consented without a thought of
hesitation. She heard a remark as she passed one young lady who had
barely missed the outer line of Mrs. King's list of invitations:--
"The flowers are real, and she's pretty enough, but she's too young to
play well. They're paying her too much attention, I think."
If there was one thing that Susie loved better than another, it was
music, and her teachers had done their duty by her. The moment her
fingers touched the keys, they felt entirely at home, and sent back word
to her that they would play any thing she could remember. Then they went
right on, and convinced every pair of ears within hearing that they were
skilfully correct about it.
"I declare!" exclaimed Vosh Stebbins to the little knot around him, "she
can play the piano better than she can skate, and that's saying a good
deal."
The young folks in two of the farther rooms were playing forfeits, and
missed the music, but the promenaders all stood still for a few minutes
and listened. It was just like the flowers. Nobody else had brought any
thing quite so nice, and there was danger that Susie would be unpopular.
As it was, she had no sooner risen from the piano than Squire King
announced that supper was ready. Vosh had not known that it was so near,
and was compelled to see Adonijah Bunce offer Susie his arm, and lead
her into the refreshment-room. He felt that he had made the first real
blunder of the evening, but he was wrong about it. Adonijah was so
agitated over his success, that he spilled some scalding hot coffee down
his left leg, and trod on Susie's toes in consequence. He made her
exclaim, "Oh, mercy!" and he made as much blood go into his own face as
it could possibly hold at the moment when he said "Golly!" and bit his
tongue for it.
There was promenading during all the supper-time, and some music,
because the dining-room would not hold them all at once; but, as fast as
the young people finished and came out, they set more vigorously at work
to enjoy themselves. It was right there that the young people of Benton
Valley began to forgive Susie Hudson for her skating and her flowers and
her music, and for being a city girl. She went into every thing with
such heartiness, that even Adonijah Bunce began to feel as happy as his
left leg would let him. Still he was the only young fellow there who
could say that he had poured hot coffee on himself, if that could be
called distinction. Vosh Stebbins had seen him do it, and had been more
at ease ever since.
Squire King and his wife were in tremendous good spirits about their
party, and they had a right to be. Aunt Judith herself told them it was
the nicest gathering of young folks that there had ever been in Benton;
and Pen enjoyed it so much, that at last she leaned up against Mrs.
Keyser on the sitting-room lounge, and went fast asleep.
It was all over at last, and the guests went home. Sleigh-load after
sleigh-load was packed, and went jingling away. The nearby residents
marched off as they had come, except that some young men had more to
take care of, and some young ladies had other young gentlemen than their
own brothers. Pen went to sleep again in the sleigh, and her father
lifted her out and carried her into the house; and the moment she waked
up she remarked,--
"He gave me a whole paper of candy, Susie, and it filled my muff so I
couldn't get my hands in."
That had been Squire King's work, and her mother responded,--
"You're going to bed now, and so is Susie. No candy till morning."
At that very moment Mrs. Stebbins was saying to Vosh,--
"I'm glad we're home again, but we've had a good time. She did look well
in them flowers, and she just can play the piano; and you got along
first-rate, Lavawjer; and I'm glad you let Nijah Bunce see her in to
supper, and wasn't round in the way at no time." She had more to say;
but it was a very late bed-time, and she had to put off saying it.