A Sweet Little Maid

by Amy Ella Blanchard

  CHAPTER IX

  Down Town

  "Don't you want to go down town for me, girls?" said Mrs. Dallas, onepleasant morning. "I can't send Bubbles very well."

  "Oh, yes," said Dimple. "What are we to get?"

  "Several things," replied her mother. "Go and get ready and I will tellyou."

  "May we take Celestine and Rubina?" asked Florence.

  "I don't think I would, for you will have packages, and they will be inthe way."

  "Don't let's take them anyhow, Florence," said Dimple. "I was thinkingthis morning that their frocks are too thick for summer." So they ranoff to get ready.

  "Now," said Mrs. Dallas, as they came back, "I want you to go to Fink'sand get me four yards of trimming like this sample; if they haven'texactly like it, the nearest will do. Then I want you to get me fourlemons. You may go to old Mrs. Wills for those, and if she has any fresheggs you may get a dozen, and--oh, yes, a bottle of vanilla extract. Nowdon't be too long, for I shall want to use some of the things thismorning."

  They promised, and went off without delay. It was a pleasant Julymorning, and they started gaily down the street, which was shaded bytrees and bordered on each side by pretty cottages, with gardens infront.

  "There is Mrs. Brown," said Dimple; "let's cross over, Florence, shewill be sure to stop us if we don't."

  "Who is Mrs. Brown?" asked Florence.

  "Oh, she's a woman," returned Dimple. "I suppose she is very nice, butshe is so solemn, and is always telling me that she hopes I will grow upto be a comfort to my mother and not a care and burden; and she alwayssays it as if there wasn't the least doubt but that I would be a careand a burden, and I don't like her. Do you know mamma and Mrs. Hardyhave been friends for over twenty years, and mamma is Rock'sgodmother?"

  "How do you know?"

  "Mamma told me. I asked her how she came to know Rock's mother, and shesaid she used to know her when she was a little girl like me--and whenthey were young ladies they were great friends. Then mamma was marriedand came here, and Rock's mother was married and went to California.When her husband died she came back to Baltimore to live. Here isFink's; we have to go in here."

  This was the largest dry goods shop in the town, and the clerks all knewDimple.

  "What can we do for you this morning, Miss Dallas?" said one of them,leaning over the counter.

  "Mamma wants four yards of this trimming," said Dimple, holding out hersample.

  The man took it, turned it over to examine both sides, and took down abox.

  "Four yards, did you say?"

  "Yes," said Dimple.

  He measured it off, saying, "Don't you want some cards? We have somejust in with a lot of goods."

  "I would rather have a box," said Dimple; "for I have a new doll, and Iwant it to put her sashes in."

  "You don't object to having both, do you?" said he. "Suppose I put thecards in the box. How would that do?"

  "Oh, that would be very nice," said Dimple; "you are very kind."

  As he went off, she turned to Florence and said in a low tone, "I didn'tlike to ask him for two boxes, but I will give you the cards."

  "No matter," said Florence. "I don't care very much for a box."

  However, when the man returned he had two boxes with four pretty cardsin each.

  "Thank you so much," said the girls, highly pleased.

  "He is a real nice man," said Florence, when they were in the street. "Ididn't believe he would think of me."

  "Yes, I think he is nice," said Dimple; "besides he has known me eversince I was a baby; he mightn't be so nice to a stranger."

  They next came to a little low brown building with one window. As theywent in at the door, a small bell over it tinkled and a voice said, "Ina minute."

  While they waited they looked about the shop, which was quite acuriosity to Florence. In the window were jars of candy, red and white,gingerbread horses, shoestrings, oranges, lemons, and dolls strung alongin a line, the largest in the middle and the smallest at each end;besides these there were tops, whistles, writing paper, pencils, scrappictures, and a variety of other things, all jumbled up together.Inside, the glass case and the shelves were full, and from the ceilinghung rolls of cotton in tissue paper, toy wagons, jumping-jacks andhoops.

  "What a funny place," whispered Florence; but just then a funnier oldwoman came in. Her face looked like a withered apple, it was so wrinkledand rosy; her eyes were bright and her grey hair was combed back under ahigh white cap. As she came behind the counter, Florence saw that one ofher hands was very much scarred, and the fingers bent. She wondered whathad happened to it.

  "Well, little Dallas girl, it's you, is it? And how is my pretty withher dimples and curls? Hm! Hm! Hm! The little Dallas girl," said theold woman.

  "Mamma wants four lemons, Mrs. Wills," said Dimple.

  "Four lemons; four--four--" said the old woman, going to a box andtaking them out.

  "And she wants to know if you have any fresh eggs?"

  "Fresh eggs. Hm! Hm! Fresh eggs. How many? I'll see."

  "A dozen if you have them."

  "Well, we'll have to go and find them, little girls. Who is the otherlittle girl?"

  "My cousin," said Dimple.

  "A Dallas?"

  "No; her name is Florence Graham."

  "Graham, Graham. A Dallas and a Graham. Come you two, then, and we'llsee if we can find any eggs."

  They followed Mrs. Wills through the back room into the yard. The roomthey passed through was very clean, and held a stove with a little tinkettle on it, a bed with a patchwork quilt, a shining little table andseveral chairs with flowers painted on them.

  The yard was quite a curiosity, and seemed to be given up entirely topigeons and chickens, who made a great fuss, flying up on the oldwoman's shoulder and pecking at her; while an old duck waddled solemnlyafter, giving a quack once in a while to let them know she was there.

  Mrs. Wills took them to the hen-house, and told them where to look foreggs.

  As Dimple had been there before, she knew where to look, and they soonmade up the dozen.

  The old duck followed them into the house, and was waddling after theminto the shop, when Mrs. Wills with a "Shoo! Shoo!" drove her out.

  "Now, Dallas girl, and Graham girl," said Mrs. Wills, "does the motherneed anything else to-day?"

  "There was something else," said Dimple, "but I can't think what. Canyou, Florence?"

  "There were four things, I know," said Florence. "But I don't rememberthe fourth."

  "A--apples, B--brooms, C--crackers, D--dust-pans," went on Mrs. Wills,rapidly, and then paused.

  "No; not any of those," said Dimple.

  "E--extract," said Mrs. Wills.

  "Yes, that's it. You have guessed, Mrs. Wills, vanilla, please."

  "E--extract, E--extract," said the old woman, as she hunted in a darkcorner.

  "And C--cocoanut cakes. Red or white?" she asked, opening the case.

  "White," said Dimple. "But Mrs. Wills----"

  "Tut! Tut! Don't you say it; don't you say it, or I'll take back myeggs," she said, as she handed each of the children a cake.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Wills. When I'm grown-up I'll make you a great big cakeand send it to you," said Dimple.

  That pleased the old woman mightily, and she nodded good-bye to them,saying, "Lemons, eggs and extract," over and over to herself.

  "What a ridiculous old woman!" said Florence. "Is she crazy?"

  "No," said Dimple. "But she is queer. She is good, though, and mammaalways buys everything from her that she can, and she feels so bad if Idon't take the things she offers me that I have to accept them."

  "What is the matter with her hand?"

  "She burned it trying to save her child from burning."

  "Did she save it?"

  "No; and that is what makes her so queer. She has never been the samesince."

  "My! how warm it is getting," said Florence. "I am glad we have broadbrimmed hats. Let's hurry home. There is your Mrs.
Brown again."

  "Oh, dear!" said Dimple. "Let us turn up this street; it is just as nearto go home this way." So they turned the corner and reached home beforeMrs. Brown knew which way they had gone.

  "Suppose we watch Sylvy make cake," said Dimple, when they had deliveredtheir packages. "She always lets me watch her. And then we can scrapethe bowl. Don't you like to?"

  "I never do at home," said Florence. "Our cook is so cross and mammadoes not like me to go into the kitchen."

  "My mamma doesn't care; she lets me go whenever I please, and sometimesI help Bubbles clean knives and do such things, so she can get through,and play with me sooner."

  "Sylvy, we are coming to watch you make cake; may we?"

  "I'm not a carin'!" said Sylvy. "Git 'round on the other side of thetable."

  "See her break the eggs," said Florence. "Could you do it, Dimple? I'dbe sure to get the yolks all mixed with the whites, and she just turnsone half into the other as easily."

  "I'd be afraid to try," said Dimple; "but when I am a little bigger, Imean to make a cake myself. I believe I could now if I had some one totell me."

  "I wouldn't try just yet," said Sylvy, briskly beating the whites of theeggs to a froth.

  "Could you, Sylvy, when you were a little girl?" asked Florence.

  "Laws, no. I was nigh as big as I am now, and then I made a poor fist atit," said Sylvy, laughing at the recollection.

  "What was the matter?" asked Dimple.

  "Too much butter and sugar, and not enough flour; it rose up beautifulat first and then down it went; when I took it out of the oven it waslike taffy. I felt plum bad, I tell you; but I did better next time;" sosaying, she turned her cake into the pans and giving each of thechildren a spoon, bade them take the bowl between them out on the steps,and "lick" to their hearts' content.

  "You aren't going to make another cake right away, are you, Sylvy?"asked Dimple, looking up from her bowl. "And--oh, Florence, see allthose turnovers. Are you really going to make another cake, Sylvy?"

  "Yass, miss, some suveral of 'em."

  "What for?"

  "Yo' ma done tole me to," replied Sylvy, with a smile.

  "I'm going to ask her about it. I know she doesn't intend we shall eatthem all. Perhaps there is going to be a church supper, or a strawberryfestival, or something. Come on, Florence, let's go and see about it."And throwing down their spoons, they went to hunt up Mrs. Dallas.

  They found her in the dining-room, making salad dressing, and upon thetable was a newly-boiled ham, and a quantity of chopped chicken.

  "There, now, mamma is doing something about eating, too," exclaimedDimple. "I'd just like to know what it is all for. Won't you tell us,mamma? Are you going to have a tea or anything like that?"

  "Not exactly like that; but we are going on a picnic."

  "Oh! oh! a picnic! Tell us, mamma. Who is going? Are we children to go?"

  "Yes. You children, Mrs. Hardy and Rock, the Spears, the Neals, and theJacksons. Mr. Atkinson, too, I think."

  "Which Jacksons?"

  "Mr. David Jackson's family. Mr. Atkinson is not sure of being here, buthe hopes to be able to get off."

  "Oh, good! Tell us some more, mamma."

  "We are going to start early to-morrow afternoon, if it is pleasant. Wewill take supper with us. We are going up the river to the island, andhave our meal there."

  "Fine! fine! Oh, Florence, you have never been to the island, and it isjust lovely there. I think you are very good to let us go, mamma, afterour running away in a boat."

  "Who ever heard of any one's running away in a boat?" laughed Mrs.Dallas. "Now be good children, and keep out of the way, for Sylvy and Ihave a lot to do."

  "We'll be good as possible, mamma, but just one more question: are yougoing to take Bubbles?"

  "I hadn't thought of it."

  "Oh, do, please; she'd be a lot of help, and she'd simply jump out ofher skin if she thought she would be allowed to go."

  "Then we'd better let her stay in her skin. She would be veryuncomfortable without it, even in this warm weather."

  "Please, mamma."

  Mrs. Dallas considered for a moment, and then said: "Well, yes, upon thewhole, I think it would be rather a good plan, but she must not neglecther work to-day. If she gets through all that she has to do by the timewe start she may go, but not otherwise. She will have extra work to-day,because Sylvy is more than usually busy."

  "May we help her a little bit? We could clean the knives, and shell thepeas."

  "I think that would be very kind if you did."

  "And may we tell her?"

  "If you like."

  The two little girls ran off to where Bubbles was washing out dishtowels by the kitchen door. "Bubbles! Bubbles! You are going on apicnic," cried Dimple.

  Bubbles dropped the dish towel she was dousing up and down in the water."Me, Miss Dimple? Me? Who say so?"

  "Mamma. There is to be a picnic to-morrow, and you are to go along withus. Aren't you glad?"

  "Hm! Hm! I reckon I is. All dem cakes an' pies an' good eatin's, an' Igwine have some fo' dey gits mashed up an' soft, an' I gwine wait on deladies and gent'mans. Ain't dat fine?" She gave a twist to her towel andshook it out with a snap. Then she was overtaken by a sudden fear. "Yuhain't a-foolin' me, is yuh?"

  "No, of course not. I wouldn't be so mean as to fool you about such athing. But mamma says you mustn't dawdle to-day. So hurry up and getthose towels done. Sylvy is going to be awfully busy, so you'll have tohelp her, but we're going to clean the knives for you, and shell thepeas. Bring them down to the little house; we're going down there. Wemight set the table, too, Florence."

  "Thanky, ma'am, Miss Dimple. Thanky, Miss Flo'ence." Bubbles' face wasbeaming, and her slim, black legs went scudding into the house with morethan their usual agility.

  "I shouldn't wonder if Rock were to come over, Florence," said Dimple;"then he can help us to shell the peas, so we can have some time toplay. Rock will want to talk over the picnic, and he will want to seehow the garden is coming on. I think the pumpkin vine is coming up. Ican't tell whether it is that or a weed, but Rock will know."

  "Rock always thinks of such nice plays; I hope he will come," returnedFlorence; and, indeed, they had hardly established themselves on theporch of the little house before the boy's cheery whistle was heard, andthe three children, after faithfully fulfilling the promise to Bubblesto relieve her of some of her tasks, determined to invent a new play.

  "I'll tell you what we'll do," said Rock. "We'll dig a cave over here,and we'll pretend a company of bandits live in it, and they willcapture one of your dolls. Then we will go to the rescue."

  "Who'll be the bandits?"

  "Why, let me see. We'll take sticks of wood; little branches with twoprongs, like this; they make the legs, you see; and then we'll stick onsomething round for the heads, turnips or onions or something likethat."

  "There aren't any turnips this time of year," returned Dimple, "andonions smell so strong. We can get potatoes, though, and they have eyes,so I should think they would make very good heads."

  Rock laughed. "So they will."

  "I'll go and see if mamma will let me have--how many?"

  "Oh, half a dozen or so."

  Dimple started for the house; then suddenly remembered that she hadpromised not to bother her mother, and she stood still for a moment. Butthe idea of the bandits was too alluring, and so she proceeded to thehouse, putting her head timidly in at the dining-room door, where hermother was still busy.

  "Mamma," she said, "are potatoes very expensive?"

  "No, not very. What a funny question. Did you come all the way in hereto ask that?"

  "No, mamma, not exactly; but do they cost too much for you to give ushalf a dozen for our bandits?"

  "For your bandits! What do you mean?"

  "Why, we are going to have a lovely play--Rock made it up--and we can'thave any bandits unless we have heads for them, and I said potatoeswould do, because they have eyes. May we have half
a dozen?"

  Mrs. Dallas smiled. "Yes, but you must not ask Sylvy or Bubbles to getthem for you."

  "I'll get them if you will tell me where they are."

  "They are down in the cellar. Please, Dimple, don't bother me again. Tryto play without coming up after things all the time."

  "Yes, mamma," Dimple replied, very meekly. "I wouldn't have come thistime if it had been for anything but the bandits."

  Mrs. Dallas let her go, and then called her back, for she had seen alittle wistful look in the child's face when her mother spoke shortly."Come, kiss me, dear," she said. "I want you to know that you are quitewelcome to the potatoes. They will make very inexpensive and harmlessplaythings, and I hope your bandits will turn out just as you want themto."

  Dimple gave her a grateful hug.

  "You may stop in the kitchen and get a turnover apiece for you threechildren. Tell Sylvy I said you might."

  "Oh, mamma, how dear you are," and the happy little face disappeared.

  The six potato-headed bandits proved most venturesome creatures, andkept their captive safe from her would-be rescuers, till she wasredeemed by the payment of a hundred pieces of gold, represented bybuttercup petals, and the morning passed so quickly that the childrencould scarcely believe it, when Bubbles came--as they had told her todo--to tell them it was time to set the dinner-table.

  "Shall I fill up the cave?" Rock asked.

  "Oh no, we might want to use it again," Dimple decided. "That was such alovely, exciting play, Rock."

  "Then we'd better cover up the cave. Some one might step in it, and gethurt."

  After hunting around, an old battered tin pan was found, which was laidover the entrance, but, alas! it was not proof against Bubbles'unfairy-like tread, for she stepped on it that very evening, and downshe went, but, as luck had it, she did nothing worse than scratch hertoes upon the very rough body of the bandit chief; although, be itconfessed, he fared worse by the encounter than she did, for he had bothlegs broken beyond hope of saving. The next morning he was carefullycarried away to a hospital and devotedly nursed by one of Dimple'sdolls; but he never recovered, though he lingered for several days. Hisfuneral was quite a magnificent affair, and he was buried with properceremonies under the very tree upon which he originally grew.