Peggy Raymond's Way; Or, Blossom Time at Friendly Terrace

by Harriet L. Smith

  CHAPTER II

  A TELEPHONE PARTY

  HOWEVER much the rest of the year may drag, the spring vacation alwaysignores the speed limit. What with dress-making and shopping, and goingover one's bureau drawers and closets in anticipation of the springcleaning, and trying to do the things one has been postponing till thisweek of leisure, and taking advantage of all the pleasures that startup like mushrooms, twenty-four hours in a day are all too few. WhenPriscilla dropped in on Peggy to suggest going out into the countryfor wild flowers, the Monday afternoon that closed the holiday season,Peggy hesitated.

  "I'd love it. I don't feel that spring is really here until I havepicked a few violets and spring beauties. But I was thinking of goingto see Mary Donaldson."

  "Why, is anything the matter?" Priscilla asked.

  Peggy stared, "Matter! You know that since that attack of inflammatoryrheumatism she hasn't walked--"

  "But I meant anything new."

  "O, there's nothing _new_, not as far as I know. I haven't been in tosee Mary since--O, dear, I'm afraid it's been an age."

  "I only meant," explained Priscilla reasonably, "that if Mary's noworse off than she has been for the last year and a half, there's noespecial point in taking to-day to go to see her. You could go anyafternoon."

  "I could," owned Peggy with a significant inflection.

  "And it's such a perfect day to go after wild flowers."

  Peggy looked from the window. The blue sky seemed to smile aninvitation. Priscilla's argument all at once appeared unanswerable.

  "Yes, isn't it lovely!" Peggy drew a long breath. "Too lovely to stayindoors. I'll go to see Mary some stormy afternoon when she needscheering up."

  And now that her decision was made, the thought of Mary Donaldsonpassed completely from Peggy's mind. She had never been particularlyintimate with this class-mate, and had it not been for Mary's illnessit is unlikely that the two girls would have seen much of each otherafter high school days. But the winter of Peggy's Freshman year, anattack of rheumatism had left Mary seriously crippled. Though nowshe was able to be dressed and to hobble from her bed to a chair bythe window, getting downstairs was too difficult a process to beconsidered, except on very especial occasions. With all the yearningsfor life and joy that characterize the normal girl, Mary was condemnedto vibrate between her bed and chair.

  It was not strange that with all her sympathy Peggy had found itdifficult to see much of her invalid friend. The demands made by thewar upon the scanty leisure of a college student left her little timeshe could call her own. She had worked making surgical dressings underthe Red Cross, and had given much time to collecting and mending worngarments for the destitute children of Belgium and France. She hadsubscribed for a bond in each of the Government loans, and to payfor these with her own earnings had required hard work and carefulfinancing. On the whole, though Peggy was sorry not to have seen moreof Mary Donaldson, her conscience acquitted her of neglect.

  The season was advanced and the girls had no difficulty in fillingtheir baskets with the early arrivals among the wild flowers, andas their baskets filled, they feasted their eyes on the myriadindeterminate shades of a spring landscape, and drank in theexhilarating odors of damp earth, warmed by the April sun. When Peggy'swrist-watch warned them it was time to start for home, they wentreluctantly, with an unreasonable feeling that in returning to townthey were leaving the spring behind them.

  At their transfer point a sign in a drug store window caught Amy's eye."Ice cream soda with fresh fruit," she read impressively. "I wonderedwhat it was I wanted. I've lost a pound and a half since vacationbegan, so I dare to risk one."

  "I haven't been buying sodas, because I needed the money for somethingelse," said Peggy. "But this is the last day of vacation and I believeI'll celebrate."

  They filed in and gave their orders. Peggy had just taken the first sipof a ravishing concoction, whose formula would have given a dyspepticheart-failure, when at the opposite counter she spied a stout,middle-aged woman who was regarding her with savage intentness. Herfeatures were familiar, in spite of a look of hostility Peggy was notaccustomed to see on the faces that looked in her direction.

  For some minutes Peggy was frankly puzzled. Not till she was finishingher soda did she remember where she had seen that heavy, lowering facebefore. But with the recollection, she slipped from her stool andcrossed to the opposite side of the room.

  "I've been trying to think where I've seen you before, but now Iremember. You're the Miss Potts who takes care of Mary Donaldson,aren't you?"

  Rather ungraciously Miss Potts admitted her identity. She was nota trained nurse, for in Mary's case skilled hands were no longernecessary. Miss Potts was big and strong and kind of heart, thoughat the moment her expression was far from suggesting the lattercharacteristic. A little puzzled by the woman's manner, Peggycontinued, "I've been wanting to see Mary for ever so long. How is she?"

  "Well, she ain't doing very well, and no wonder. Old folks get kind ofused to the way things are in this world, and it doesn't surprise 'emnone to be forgotten. But it's sort of hard on the young."

  Peggy flushed hotly. She realized that Miss Potts' disagreeable mannerwas a deliberate expression of resentment. "I'm sorry that I haven'tbeen able to see more of Mary this last year," she said with gentledignity, "but I've been very busy, and it's such a long way over here."

  "I s'pose it's a long way to your telephone, too."

  "Telephone!" Peggy repeated. She looked at Miss Potts so blankly thatMary's caretaker had no alternative but to explain.

  "Her pa had it put in for a surprise. It's right beside her bed, andthe little thing it stands on moves 'round, so she can talk withoutany trouble. He thought it would be a comfort to her, for she couldchat with all her friends, and sort of keep up with things."

  "Why, yes," said Peggy, feeling uncomfortable. "I should think she'dget lots of fun out of it." She was remembering that Mary had calledher up--it was weeks or months, or was it fully a year before--totell her about the new telephone. There had been an eagerness inMary's voice that she remembered vividly. Peggy had agreed that it was"splendid," without realizing just what this link with the outsideworld would mean to a girl shut out from so much.

  Miss Potts indulged in an unmusical laugh. "Oh, yes," she said. "Shegets lots of fun. Every now and then she gets a call. There's so manynew girls on the telephone exchanges nowadays, that they're bound togive her number every little while. And then she tells 'em it's thewrong number and rings off."

  Peggy's face was a study. "Do you mean that she--that no one--"

  The aggressiveness suddenly disappeared from Miss Potts' manner. Hereyes filled with tears.

  "It's the heart-breakingest thing I ever want to see," she cried. "Shewas so hopeful at first. As soon as that telephone was put in, shecalled up everybody she knew, to tell 'em about it. And then she'd liethere smiling, watching that phone, as if it was something out of afairy book and was going to bring her all kinds of happiness."

  Peggy's imagination was a vivid one. As Miss Potts spoke, she couldalmost see Mary's smiling, expectant face. A pang of sympathy stabbedher tender heart.

  "The very first time that telephone rang it was somebody that wantedthe butcher; and the second time, a girl, who was coming over to spendthe afternoon with her, rang up to say her aunt was in town and shewas going to the matinee instead. I don't think Mary ever felt thesame about her phone after that start-out. When it rang, she lookedkind of scared, as if she was afraid she was going to hear somethingdisappointing."

  "But surely," Peggy exclaimed, "she must have lots of calls from herfriends. I--why, I know I haven't called very often, but that wasbecause I was always hoping to get time to go over to see her." Therewas such genuine distress in her voice that Miss Potts was visiblymelted.

  "It's a busy world," she said, "for young folks and old folks, too, andI guess on the whole it's lucky it is so easy for us to forget. But allthe same," she ended, with a shake of her head, "it's pretty ha
rd onthe ones who get forgotten."

  The clerk brought out the prescription for which Miss Potts had beenwaiting, and Peggy rejoined her friends. For a moment she consideredsending her flowers to Mary, but a fear that to Miss Potts this mightseem an effort to evade a more exacting expression of sympathy ledher to relinquish her purpose. Her crest-fallen manner revealed thatsomething was wrong, and as they left the drug store her friendsresentfully demanded an explanation.

  "Peggy, what was that woman saying to you?" Priscilla was bristlinglike a mother hen who sees one of her brood attacked.

  In a few words Peggy explained. Her three listeners exchangedconscience-stricken glances.

  "It seems rather mean that you should be the one to be scolded," saidAmy, "when you have gone to see Mary oftener than all the three of ustogether."

  "That isn't saying much," Peggy stated gloomily. "I haven't been nearher for months."

  "But you haven't had time," cried Ruth, slipping her hand through herfriend's arm.

  "No, I think I really haven't," Peggy said frankly. "But I certainlyhave had time to go to the telephone." Then suddenly her facebrightened. "I know what we'll do, girls; we'll give her a telephoneparty."

  "A telephone party," Amy repeated. "What do you mean by that?" Thecar for which they were waiting came along before Peggy could answer,and she finished her explanation hanging to a strap, while her threecompanions, similarly supported and swaying violently with each jerk ofthe car, listened absorbedly.

  "College opens to-morrow, and the first day is never so very busy, sowe'll call Mary up every hour. My hour will be between nine and ten.Priscilla, you take the hour between ten and eleven; and Amy, you canhave the next one. I think we'd better omit the hour between twelve andone, for she'll probably be eating luncheon then. Ruth, you may callbetween one and two."

  "But you said every hour, Peggy. Don't you think it would be ratherover-doing it to call twice in one day?"

  "I'm going to get hold of some of the other girls who were in Mary'sclass in high school, Elinor Hewitt, and Anna Joyce, and BlancheEastabrook--"

  "She's in New York."

  "Well, Marian O'Neil isn't. And I'll see Aimee Dubois at college andtell her about it. Mary's telephone is going to work overtime to makeup for its long idleness."

  "What I don't understand," said Priscilla, "is if Mary was so lonely,why didn't she call us up?"

  "I can understand that easy enough," replied Peggy. "She called us upto tell us she had a phone, and after that, it was our move."

  "And I suppose," suggested Amy, "that there isn't a great deal to talkabout, when you don't get out of an upstairs room from one month toanother."

  "I suppose not," Priscilla acknowledged. Everything considered, itwas a rather crest-fallen quartette of girls who returned from theirafternoon's outing.

  It was just half past nine next day when Mary Donaldson's telephonerang. "I'm not too early, am I?" said a cheery voice.

  Mary, who had taken up the receiver with the air of uncertainty towhich Miss Potts had referred, uttered a joyful exclamation. "Why, it'sPeggy Raymond!"

  "Yes, it's Peggy. I wanted to tell you about something perfectlykilling that happened to Amy the other day." Peggy had made up her mindto ignore the months of silence. Explanations would not help matters,for nothing could explain away the fact that in the whirl and rush oftheir over-full lives they had, for the time being, quite forgottenMary.

  The story of Amy's impromptu dinner party proved as entertaining asPeggy had anticipated. Mary Donaldson laughed as she had not laughedfor months. And in the next room Miss Potts, listening, made strangegrimaces that seemed only distantly related to smiles. When the storywas finished, Mary had some questions to ask. "Who are the Careys?There used to be a Carey girl in school--"

  "I'm pretty sure they aren't related to her. They come from some placein New York and they've lived in our neighborhood less than a year. Anddo you know, Mary, we think Amy must have made quite an impression onthe brother--Bob. He's called on her twice since, and he's asked her togo to the Glee Club concert."

  "He has!" Romance dies hard in the heart of a girl. Poor Mary, shutaway from contact with young life, was thrilled by the suggestion of anincipient love-story. "Is he nice looking?" she asked eagerly.

  "Well, I've not met him yet, but I've noticed him passing severaltimes, and I thought he was quite handsome. And Hildegarde is anawfully stylish girl, though I'd hardly call her pretty."

  In ten minutes Peggy announced that she must go to a history lectureand rang off. She was smiling as she went to class, and wishing shecould be an unseen listener to the conversations scheduled to takeplace in Mary's room every hour in the day.

  As Peggy had promised, the bell of Mary's telephone worked over-time.The Friendly Terrace girls were supplemented by former school-matesin sufficient numbers to keep up the excitement till half past eightthat evening. Most of the girls, whose memories Peggy had undertakento jolt, were conscience-stricken when they realized how they hadneglected Mary. And they readily fell in with Peggy's suggestion.

  "Even if we can't get over there very often," urged Peggy, "we canuse the telephone. Five minutes talk every few days will make Maryfeel that she's in touch with us still. It doesn't seem to me I couldbear feeling forgotten." Peggy did not realize that, even with Mary'sdisability, she would have made herself the center of some circle; andin her failure to understand that Mary's rather colorless personalitywas in part responsible for what had happened, Peggy was the moresevere upon herself for what now seemed to her inexplicable andinexcusable neglect.

  Thanks to the sudden activity of Peggy's conscience, Mary Donaldsonheard more outside news in one day than she had heard in the threemonths previous. And as the trouble with most young people is want ofthought, rather than want of heart, few of the girls were satisfiedwith chatting five or ten minutes over the telephone. They promisedto come to see her soon. They offered to lend her books or mail hermagazines. One girl suggested that she would bring over some of hervictrola records for Mary to hear, and another informed her that assoon as the lilies of the valley were out she should have a cluster.All at once Mary Donaldson's friends were remembering her in earnest.

  When Marian O'Neil rang off at twenty minutes of nine, Mary hesitateda moment and then called Peggy Raymond. And Peggy who was giving herstudies that half-hearted attention customary on the first day aftervacation, whether the student is in the primary grade or a collegeJunior, came running downstairs when Dick shouted her name.

  "Hello--Hello--Why, Mary!" The pleasure in her tone was unmistakable,and the shut-in, two miles away, thrilled responsively.

  "Peggy, I just wanted to tell you before I went to sleep that I've hadsuch a lovely day."

  "Have you, dear? I'm glad. What happened?"

  The question took the guileless Mary aback. "I thought perhaps youknew something about it. My telephone has been ringing all day. It wasqueer if it was only a coincidence, for some girls called me up that Ihaven't heard from for years."

  "Must have been what they call a brain wave," suggested Peggy,audaciously.

  "Well, anyway, it was nice. I've heard so many things and talked withso many people that I feel as if I'd been to a party."

  "If that's all, Mary, I'll prophesy there'll be just as nice dayscoming as this."

  "Oh, do you think so, Peggy! Well, it's my bed time now, so I won'ttalk any longer. Good-night."

  "Good-night!" And as Peggy hung up the receiver, she reflected that shehad never done justice to the possibilities of the telephone.