THE TURKEY-TAIL FAN.
Harvie and Shorty arrived in due time and very glad we were to see them.
Mary and Shorty rushed together like long lost brother and sister. They
made a pony team it was hard to beat.
"Gee, I'm glad to see you!" exclaimed the boy. "You and I don't have to
be grown up, do we, Mary?"
"Not on your life! No one will expect the impossible of us. The boys we
know here are real grown-ups, lots older than Harvie Price, real college
men. They are very nice but I feel like an awful kid with them. Of
course Mr. Tucker is as young as any of us."
"Of course!" echoed Shorty. "Isn't he just great?"
"You bet."
When we were all dressed for the hop, Zebedee declared we looked pretty
well in spite of our tan and freckles. He kept us on needles and pins
all the time, threatening to tell the boys of our dough masks. At supper
he repeatedly asked Blanche for hot rolls, insisting that she must have
them.
"I certainly smelled hot rolls when I got back from Norfolk and it seems
to me I saw batch after batch rising. Couldn't you spare me just one,
Blanche?" And when the girl rushed from the room to explode in the
kitchen, he said in a tone of the greatest concern: "Why, what is the
matter with poor, dear Blanche? Do you think perhaps she has eaten them
all herself?"
"Mr. Tucker come mighty near infectin' my irresistibles," Blanche said
to us after supper was over. "I tell you a kersplosion was eminent!
'Twas all I could do to keep from bringing disgracement on us all, in
fact, to speak in vulgar langige, I was nigh to bus'in'. I certainly do
think you young ladies looks sweet an' whin you puts a little talcim on
yo' prebosseses the sunburn won't be to say notificationable. I'll be
bound that ev'y las' one of you will be the belledom of the ball." All
we hoped for was not to be wall flowers.
A hop was quite an event to most of us. Annie and I had never been to
one in our lives, not a real hop. The dance at the Country Club when I
visited the Tuckers in Richmond was the nearest I had ever come to a
hop, and if this was to come up to that, I was expecting a pretty good
time. Annie was very nervous as her dancing had all been done at Gresham
and with girls, but we assured her that she was sure to do finely. The
Tucker twins had been going to hops ever since they could hop, almost
ever since they could crawl, so they were not very excited, but Mary was
jumping around like a hen on a hot griddle, trying new steps all the
time I was tying her sash. You may know that Mary would wear a great
bulging sash, instead of a neat girdle or belt. Chunky persons with
thick waists always seem to have a leaning towards sashes with huge
bows. Mary looked very nice, although her dress did have about twice as
much material in it as was necessary and she had put on an extra
petticoat for luck and style. Since it was the summer of very narrow
skirts, the effect was rather voluminous. She looked like the hollyhock
babies I used to make for my fairy lands, only their heads were green
while Mary's was red; but Mary's looks were the least thing about her.
It was her good cheerful disposition and her ready, kindly wit and
humour that counted with her friends.
Annie was lovely in the beautiful white crepe de Chine, the dress that
had been her mother's and that she had worn at the musicale at Gresham
where she had charmed the audience with her old ballads. It was a pity
for her to wear this dress to dance in on a hot night as it was really
very handsome though so simple, but poor Annie had very few clothes and
her father seemed to think that a girl her age needed none at all.
The Tuckers were appropriately dressed in white muslin, Dum with a pink
girdle, Dee with a blue.
"Not that I should wear pink," grumbled Dum, "nor that Dee should wear
blue, as I look better in blue and Dee looks better in pink; but Zebedee
cuts up so when we go anywhere with him and don't dress in the colours
we were born in, that to keep the peace we have to do as he wants us
to. They tied pink ribbons on me and blue ribbons on Dee to tell us
apart, and Zebedee declares he still has to have something tied on us to
tell, which is perfectly absurd, as we do not look the least alike."
"You never have looked much alike to me, but I took such a good look at
you the first time I saw you that I never have got you mixed up except
once when I first saw you in bathing caps. I really do not think you
look as much like each other as you both look like your father. Now he
has Dee's dimple in his chin; and his hair grows on his forehead just
like Dum's, in a little widow's peak; and all three of you have exactly
the same shoulders."
"Well, all I know is I can tell myself from Dum on the darkest night."
With which Irish bull, Dee, having hooked on the offending blue girdle,
hustled us downstairs where the boys from the camp were awaiting our
coming.
"Let me see, eight escorts for six ladies!" exclaimed Zebedee. "That
means a good time all around!" And that is just what we had, a good time
all around.
The ballroom at the hotel was quite large with a splendid floor, and if
there was a breeze to be caught, it caught it. Seated on chairs ranged
around the wall were what Zebedee called the non-combatants, many old
ladies: maids, wives and widows, some with critical eyes, some with
kindly, but one and all bent on seeing and commenting on everything that
was doing.
The first person I beheld on entering the ballroom was no other than
Cousin Park Garnett, sitting very stiff and straight in a tight
bombazine basque, at least, I fancy it must have been bombazine--not
that I know what bombazine is; but bombazine basque sounds just like
Cousin Park looked. With majestic sweeps she fanned herself with a
turkey-tail fan, and her general expression was one of conscious
superiority to her surroundings. How I longed for a magic cap so that I
might become invisible to my relative! All sparkle went out of the scene
for me. I felt that it would not be much fun to dance with the critical
eye of Mrs. Garnett watching my every step and her unnecessarily frank
tongue ready to inform me of my many defects. If I could only dissemble
and pretend not to see her maybe she would not recognize me! But
conscience whispered:
"Page Allison, aren't you ashamed of yourself? You know perfectly well
what your father would say: 'She is our kinswoman, daughter, and proper
respect must be shown her.' Go up and speak to her and give her no real
cause for criticism." So, in the words of somebody or other, "I seen my
duty and done it."
"How burned and freckled you are, child!" was her cheerful greeting, as
she presented a hard, uncompromising cheek for me to peck.
"Yes, I've been on the water a good deal," I ventured meekly. "When did
you come?"
"I have been here only a few hours but I have heard already of the very
irregular household in which you are visiting."
"Irregular! Why, we have our meals exactly on time. Who said we didn't?"
"I was not referring to meals but morals," and the bombazine basque
creaked anew as she once more took up the task of cooling herself with
the turkey-tail fan. I felt myself getting very hot with a heat that a
turkey-tail fan could not allay.
"Morals, Cousin Park! Why, Blanche is a very respectable coloured girl
highly recommended by the president of her industrial school and Mammy
Susan, besides."
"Blanche! I know nothing of Mr. Tucker's domestic arrangements. What I
mean is that I hear from Miss Binks that you are absolutely unchaperoned
and I consider that highly immoral."
"Unchaperoned! How ridiculous! Miss Jane Cox is our chaperone and there
never was a lovelier one. Mabel Binks knows perfectly well Miss Cox is
there with us and she herself would give her eyes to be one of the
party," and then I bit my lip to keep from saying anything else about
the mischief-making girl.
"I understood from Miss Binks that there were only five young girls in
the cottage and that a camp of boys spent most of their time there and
that the carryings on were something disgraceful. She had some tale to
tell of your going up to wake one of the boys yourselves and dragging
him out of bed."
And so Mabel had distorted the truth about Sleepy to suit her own ends.
I flushed painfully and to the best of my ability told the story, but it
sounded very flat and stupid recounted to the unsympathetic, unhumorous
ears of Mrs. Garnett. I brought up Miss Cox and introduced her to the
turkey-tail fan, and our chaperone's quiet manner and dignity did much
to reassure my strict relative. I was laughing in my boots when I
realized that Mabel did not know of Miss Cox's engagement and so had not
told Cousin Park of it, or that irate dame would have considered our
chaperone not much of a chaperone, after all.
Zebedee claimed the first dance with me, speaking cordially to Cousin
Park, but she gave him a curt nod and turned with unexpected amiability
and condescension to converse with a faded little gentlewoman at her
side who had up to that time been overshadowed by that lady's conscious
superiority.
"Oh, my whole evening is ruined!" I wailed in Zebedee's ear. "It won't
be a bit of fun to dance, no matter how many or how few partners I may
get, while Cousin Park sits there and watches my every step, making
mental notes of the disagreeable truths she will get off to me or poor
Father the first time she gets a chance at him."
"Why, you poor little girl! Do you think I am going to let your first
hop be a failure? I am going to get that old Harpie out of this room if
I have to carry her out myself and propose to her in the bargain."
When the dance was over, Zebedee might have been seen eagerly looking
around the hotel as if in search of someone, on the porches, in the
lobby and finally in the smoking room, and then to pounce on a certain
old Judge Grayson of Kentucky, who was there poring over the afternoon
paper and smoking a very bad cigar. Judge Grayson was judge by courtesy
and custom, as Zebedee afterwards told me. He had never been on any
bench but the anxious bench of the grand stand, being a great judge of
horses.
"Ha, Judge, I am glad to see you! Have a cigar." The Judge accepted with
alacrity, first carefully extinguishing the light on the poor one he was
engaged in consuming and economically putting it back into his cigar
case, quoting in a pleasant, high old voice: "'For though on pleasure
she was bent, she had a frugal mind.' How are you, Tucker? Gad, I'm glad
to see you, boy! Dull hole this!"
[Illustration: Peeping in, we saw the game in full swing--_Page 145_]
"Do you find it so? Why don't you get up a game of auction? I wish I
could join you, but I've got my daughters and some of their young
friends here and dancing is the order of the evening for me."
"Gad, I'd like a game but don't know a soul. Fool to come to such a
place. I'll be off to Virginia Beach tomorrow."
"Now don't do that; you come see us tomorrow. I'll be bound you will
fall in love with all my girls and no doubt they will fight over you."
"Why, that would be nice, Tucker. No doubt this place is all right but I
have been lonesome," and the old fellow beamed on Zebedee.
"Of course you have. Come on, I'll introduce you to some ladies and you
can have a good game of auction bridge;" and before the Judge could find
any objection, Zebedee had steered him across the ballroom floor and had
him bowing and scraping in front of the haughty Mrs. Garnett. She
unbent at his courtly, old-fashioned compliments, and I distinctly saw
her tap him playfully with her turkey-tail fan. The faded gentlewoman
was next introduced and readily joined in the proposed game. A fourth
was easily found and before the next dance was over, Zebedee was beaming
on me, as I danced around with Wink, delighted as he afterwards declared
in having got the Harpie out of the room without having either to carry
her out or propose to her himself. The rest of the evening I could enjoy
to my heart's content with no hypercritical glances following me around.
Cousin Park had a good time, too. Auction bridge was her dissipation and
I have heard she played a masterly game. So Zebedee felt he had been a
real all 'round philanthropist.
Once between dances Zebedee and I were out on the porch getting a breath
of air and our steps took us near the window of the card room. Peeping
in, we saw the game in full swing. Cousin Park had just made a little
slam and she looked quite complacent and cheerful. The courtly Judge was
dealing compliments with the cards, there was a flush of pleasure on the
cheeks of the faded gentlewoman, and Cousin Park wielded her fan with
almost a coquettish air, announcing her bids with elephantine
playfulness.
Once Judge Grayson picked up the fan and, looking sentimentally at it,
began to quote in his high, refined old voice the following poem. It was
between rubbers so the card devotees listened with polite attention, but
Zebedee and I were indeed thrilled:
"'It owned not a colour that vanity dons
Or slender wits choose for display;
Its beautiful tint was a delicate bronze,
A brown softly blended with gray.
From her waist to her chin, spreading out without break,
'Twas built on a generous plan:
The pride of the forest was slaughtered to make
My grandmother's turkey-tail fan.
"'For common occasions it never was meant:
In a chest between two silken cloths
'Twas kept safely hidden with careful intent
In camphor to keep out the moths.
'Twas famed far and wide through the whole country side,
From Beersheba e'en unto Dan;
And often at meeting with envy 'twas eyed,
My grandmother's turkey-tail fan.
"'A fig for the fans that are made nowadays,
Suited only to frivolous mirth!
A different thing is the fan that I praise,
Yet it scorned not the good things of earth.
At bees and at quiltings 'twas aye to be seen.
The best of the gossip began
When in at the doorway had entered serene
My grandmother's turkey-tail fan.'"
Zebedee clapped a vociferous but silent applause and I wiped a tiny tear
from my eye. Poetry is the only thing that ever makes me weep but there
is something about verse, recited in a certain way, that always makes me
leak a little. The Judge knew how to recite that way and while there was
nothing in "My Grandmother's Turkey-tail Fan" to make one want to weep,
still that one little tear did find its way out. The faded gentlewoman
was affected the same way and even Cousin Park's bombazine basque unbent
a bit.
"Isn't he a sweet old man?" I exclaimed.
"Just the sweetest in the country. I have known the Judge for many years
and I have never seen him anything but a perfect, courtly gentleman. He
is to have luncheon with us tomorrow."
"Oh, won't that be fine! Maybe he will recite some poetry for us."
"I haven't a doubt but that he will, and sing you some songs, too."
"Well, he has my undying gratitude for taking Cousin Park out of the
ballroom;" and just then Harvie came to hunt for me to claim his dance.
I danced every single dance that evening except one that I sat out with
Wink, and hardly ever got through a dance without having to change
partners several times. They say it is a southern custom, this thing of
breaking in on a dance. It is all very well if you happen to be dancing
with a poor dancer and a good one takes you away, but it is pretty sad
if it happens to be the other way. Sometimes I would feel as you might
if an over-zealous butler snatched your plate from under your nose
before you had finished, and you saw him bearing off some favourite
delectable morsel and in its place had to choke down stewed prunes or
mashed turnips or something else you just naturally could not abide. As
a rule, however, the "delectable morsel" would not go away for good,
but hover around and break in again in time to let you finish the dance
with some pleasure and at least get the taste of stewed prunes or mashed
turnip out of your mouth.