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

by Harriet L. Smith

  CHAPTER III

  A TRIUMPH OF ART

  IT was one of those warm, summer-like days of early June, when lessonsand college classes are forgotten in the enjoyment of thoughts of thesummer vacation to come. Such a few days left, and the four girls wouldbe free for all the reading and the tennis and the sewing and thetramping which the press of examination preparation had forced aside.And they would all be together again this summer, which gave promise ofmany Quartette larks. The day was so perfect that all four had, as ifof one mind, discarded their lessons for the remainder of the day, andhad drifted over to Amy's.

  "Do you know what I've been thinking about all week?" demanded Amy ofthe trio occupying her front porch. She did not wait for any of them tohazard a guess, but gave the answer herself, "Strawberries."

  A soft little murmur went the rounds. "We had strawberries for dinnerlast night," said Peggy, "the best I've tasted this year."

  "And we had strawberry short-cake." Priscilla smacked her lipsreminiscently.

  "And I had some strawberry ice cream at Birds'," put in Ruth. "It wasso warm along about nine o'clock, you know, and Nelson and I went down.My, but it was good!"

  Amy listened unmoved. "What I've been thinking about," she explained,"is strawberries in the patch, sticking their heads out from under theleaves, as if they were begging to be picked, warm from the sun, andsweet, and just spilling over with juice."

  The girls sat attentive. Something in Amy's manner indicated that therewas a background of reality for this flight of fancy.

  "I've got a sort of relation living about ten miles out of town," Amycontinued. "Aunt Phoebe Cummings, only that isn't her name. Five yearsago she married a man named Frost."

  "How interesting to get a new uncle at your age," interjected Ruth.

  "I don't regard him as much of an addition to the family,"retorted Amy drily. "When I talk about him, I call him, 'UnclePhilander-Behind-His-Back.' But to his face, he's Mr. Frost. You see,Aunt Phoebe isn't exactly an aunt. I believe she's a second cousin ofmy grandfather's first wife, but she's nicer than lots of real aunts."

  "I do think you have the nicest relations, Amy Lassell," interposedPeggy. "Now Aunt Abigail, at Doolittle cottage, was a perfect dear."

  Priscilla showed signs of impatience. "What has all this to do withstrawberries?"

  "Well, I'm coming to that. My Uncle Philander-Behind-His-Back owns alittle farm, and they've got strawberries to burn. And almost everyyear Aunt Phoebe says she wishes I'd come out when the strawberries areripe and bring some of my friends."

  "Amy Lassell!" exclaimed Priscilla reproachfully. "Do you mean thatMrs. Philander has been begging you to do this for the last five years,and that this is the first we've heard of it?"

  "Well, as a rule she mentions it along about August, or October, andI forget it by June. But she came in town to shop the other day andtook dinner with us, and when she left, she broached the subject again.She said the strawberries would be at their best by the middle of nextweek and she'd love to meet you all. What do you think of a trip to thecountry along about Wednesday?"

  There were certain subjects regarding which, in spite of their devotedfriendship, the Friendly Terrace quartette could develop considerablediversity of opinion. But on this occasion, their unanimity would havegratified the hospitable instincts of Amy's Aunt Phoebe. Strawberriesboxed and displayed in show windows, or even transformed into suchdelicacies as short cake and ice cream, seemed prosaic all at once.What they wanted was to be turned loose in a strawberry patch, to staintheir fingers plucking the strawberries from the vines. Before leavingthe porch the girls watched Amy pen a note to her relative, acceptingher oft-repeated invitation in behalf of herself and friends, andsuggesting the following Wednesday as a desirable time for their visit.

  A rather cloudy Tuesday awakened anxious apprehensions in the minds ofthe four girls, apprehensions dissipated, however, by the cloudlessdawn of Wednesday. The height of the strawberry season is the mostcharming time of the year. The four ate an early luncheon at Peggy'shome, and then took the trolley for the outskirts of the city. Onceoutside the city, the trolley car bowled along at an exhilarating pace,and in spite of the prospects ahead, the girls were almost sorry whenthe ten-miles were up, and the breezy ride was ended.

  Aunt Phoebe was a little old lady whose black skirt was quaintly fulland showed signs of wear, partially concealed by a white ruffled apronof unusual size. She greeted them as affectionately as if they hadall been nieces by adoption, and conducted them indoors to take offtheir hats. The living room through which they passed was large andpleasantly and immaculately neat, the unpainted floor having beenscrubbed to a milky whiteness.

  The tapping of the girls' heels on the boards emphasized theirbareness. "Got your rugs up for the summer, I see," remarked Amycasually. The comment was natural enough under the circumstances, butunluckily it opened the door of the closet which contained the Frosts'family skeleton. Aunt Phoebe reddened as if Amy's innocent remark hadbeen a slap in the face. "My sitting room carpet's worn out," she said."It was worn out when I came here. I patched it and I pieced it and Imade it last a good three years after anybody else would have put it inthe rags, and now he says there's no sense buying a new one."

  "Mr. Frost, you mean?"

  "Yes. He's got awful queer notions, Philander has. He talks about barefloors being healthy. Good gracious! It gives me a chill to think ofthis room in November without a carpet on the floor. I've done withoutlots of things in my life, but I never was too poor to have my floorscarpeted."

  Amy was sorry she had broached the subject, for now that Aunt Phoebewas started, she seemed to find it difficult to stop talking about hergrievance. Like many people who do not ask a great deal of life, shewas the more insistent regarding the few things she counted essential.The bare floor, echoing noisily under the tread of her guests, stirredher indignation and almost spoiled her childlike satisfaction inentertaining Amy and her friends.

  But worse was coming. It appeared that Aunt Phoebe had a heaped glassdish of berries to be served in the conventional fashion with sugarand cream, but she suggested that first the girls might enjoy helpingthemselves from the patch. As this was really what they had come for,they acquiesced heartily, and Aunt Phoebe led the way. Her kindly oldface lost its pensiveness as she watched the laughing girls picking theberries from the vines, their lips and fingers reddening as the feastproceeded. Then without any warning, a deep voice spoke out of theshrubbery, and only too much to the point. "The commission men," saidthe voice, "are paying twelve cents a box for them strawberries."

  Four berry-pickers straightened themselves and looked at one anotheraghast. Aunt Phoebe rushed furiously to their defense. "PhilanderFrost, this is my niece, Amy Lassell, and she's brought out some youngfriends to eat strawberries, because I asked her to." Her faded blueeyes emitted electric sparks as she defied him.

  "Pleased to meet you, I'm sure," said Mr. Frost, still with an air ofprofound melancholy. "I don't grudge a few strawberries any more thanthe next man, but with them bringing twelve cents a box--"

  "Philander!" The little wrinkled wife was fairly beside herselfwith mortification. Her withered skin, suffused by a burning blush,rivalled the vivid coloring of youth. "Philander, I don't care if thestrawberries are a dollar a quart--"

  "Oh, well," said Mr. Frost patiently. "I just thought I'd mention it."He turned away while four girls stood motionless in the strawberrypatch, as if there had been a Medusa-like quality in his gaze, turningthem all to stone.

  "Go right on, dearies," commanded Aunt Phoebe, raising her voicedefiantly, so that it should reach the ears of her departing lord andmaster. "Eat all you want to." But though as a matter of principle,the girls attempted to obey, the sweetness had gone from the lusciousfruit. They ate half-heartedly, ashamed to meet one another's eyes,calculating, in spite of themselves, how much Mr. Frost was out ofpocket because of their visit.

  Aunt Phoebe was plainly disappointed when they declared that they hadhad enough.
She tried to encourage them to think better of it, andwhen they still insisted, led the way to the house. "I don't thinkmuch of strawberries without trimmings, myself," she declared over hershoulder. "When you taste them with sugar and cream, I guess you'llfind your appetites coming back."

  The porch at the side of the house was shaded and inviting. Aunt Phoebeinsisted on their seating themselves, while she waited on them. Againstthe snowy covering of the small, round table, the big dish of choiceberries made a fine showing. Then Aunt Phoebe brought out a pitcher ofrich yellow cream, and the spirits of the crest-fallen group began torevive. The appearance of a heaping plate-full of cookies was hailedwith appreciative smiles.

  "Plenty more cookies in the jar," said Aunt Phoebe, helping them withlavish hand. "And plenty more berries. Eat all you can."

  They had almost reached the point of forgetting Mr. Frost and hisdiscomforting comments, when he again made his appearance. Peggy lostthe thread of the story she was telling and stopped short, but as noone was listening, that made no difference.

  Mr. Frost seated himself and sighed heavily. "Some folks is afraid toeat too many strawberries," he said. "They're likely to cause a rash."

  The girls, not knowing what to say, went on eating mechanically. AuntPhoebe, however, straightened herself over her saucer. "I don't mind arash," she announced, "not in such a good cause."

  "It ain't that I care for the expense," Mr. Frost said feelingly,"though of course, with the cost of living so high, sensible folksought to do without everything that ain't necessary. Now Phoebe's gotan idea that she wants a new carpet for the sitting room--"

  "I've got an idea that I'm going to have one, too," said Aunt Phoebe,breathing hard.

  "I tell her that bare floors is all the rage," said Mr. Frost, lookingfrom one to another of the girls, as if he hoped to find an ally inone of them. "Carpets are hiding-places for all sorts of germs. Theswellest folks there is have bare floors nowadays, I tell her."

  "I guess their bare floors don't look much like mine," exploded AuntPhoebe, "just common pine boards, not even painted."

  "I wouldn't mind letting you paint 'em," said Mr. Frost. "Of coursepaint is very expensive these days, but if it would make you feel anybetter--"

  "What I want," Aunt Phoebe was beginning wrathfully, when Amyinterrupted. She addressed herself to Mr. Frost, and her manner waspropitiatory. "A painted floor isn't so bad," she said. "Lots of folkshave painted floors."

  "A body's feet would freeze in winter," exclaimed Aunt Phoebe, plainlybewildered at Amy's taking sides against her.

  "You want to wear good thick shoes and stockings," replied Mr. Frost,eyeing Amy approvingly. His manner indicated that as far as she wasconcerned, he did not grudge the strawberries.

  "I was going to say," continued Amy, returning his friendly gaze withinterest, "that I wouldn't mind coming out and painting the floors foryou some day."

  The other Friendly Terrace girls looked at one another in surprise.They could not understand Amy. Apparently she was trying to curryfavor with Mr. Frost by taking sides with him against Aunt Phoebe,yet none of them considered this the real explanation. Whateverher intention, it was plain that Amy had made a conquest of UnclePhilander-Behind-His-Back. For the rest of their stay, he addressedmost his remarks to her, and though his conversation dealt largelywith the high cost of living and the necessity for thrift, theirinexplicable friend seemed highly edified.

  When they took their departure, Mr. Frost again brought up the subjectof the floor. "If you should happen to feel like painting it someday--"

  "Oh, I'm coming," said Amy smiling up at him. "I'll get the other girlsto help me, and we'll make short work of it."

  "I think I've got pretty near enough paint left from painting thebarn--"

  Aunt Phoebe's accession of color suggested an attack of apoplexy, forthe barn was the color of a ripe pumpkin. Amy hastily interposed, "Oh,I'll bring the paint."

  "Will you now? Well, I call that the right spirit. I like to see youngfolks appreciative," declared Mr. Frost. "Strawberries are bringing agood price this year, but I'm sure you're welcome to every one you et."

  On the way to the car Amy walked beside Aunt Phoebe, holding fastto her arm and chattering like a magpie. And as she kissed the oldlady good-by, she pulled her close and whispered in her ear. Itwas impossible to know what she said, but Aunt Phoebe's lugubriouscountenance showed an immediate improvement. She stared at Amy with anexpression of incredulity which presently became a bewildered smile.

  The uncertainty of the other Friendly Terrace girls, as to whether ornot Amy had intended her promise to be taken literally, was dissipatedabout a week later when she called on them to accompany her and assistin the painting of Aunt Phoebe's sitting-room floor. Thoughtlessly Amyhad selected a date when Peggy had an imperative engagement. Peggyurged her to choose another day, but Amy found insuperable objectionsto a change.

  "But I don't like this," said Peggy. "I ate as many strawberriesas anybody, and if you're painting the floor to pay your unclePhilander-Behind-His-Back, I want to do my share." And to this,Amy replied imperturbably that she need not worry, for UnclePhilander-Behind-His-Back would be paid in full, without her assistance.

  "It really is a pity Peggy couldn't come." The trio was fairly on itsway. "She knows more about such work than any of us."

  "I'm afraid Peggy wouldn't be much of a help to-day," replied Amy.

  "Peggy not a help? Why not?" Priscilla's manner indicated that if anycriticism of Peggy were implied, she would not stand for it.

  "Peggy's conscience is such a Johnny-on-the-spot," Amy explained. "Itnever seems to take a vacation the way ours do, and I'm afraid it wouldbe dreadfully in the way to-day."

  "Why, what do you mean?" demanded Priscilla and Ruth together.

  Amy opened the little grip she carried, produced a small-sized can ofpaint and handed it to Priscilla. A similar one was bestowed on theperplexed Ruth, and then Amy leaned back and looked from one to theother triumphantly.

  "What do you want me to do with it?" frowned Priscilla. Then with aviolent start, "Why, Amy Lassell!"

  "Well?"

  "This paint is moss green."

  "And this," cried Ruth excitedly, "is yellow."

  "And in here," explained Amy, patting her bag tenderly, "are all thecolors of the rainbow in half pint cans. Did you ever see an exhibitionof cubist pictures?"

  "Yes, once," replied Priscilla mechanically, while Ruth too amazed forwords, stared dumbly at her friend.

  "Well, that is the way Aunt Phoebe's floor is going to look when we arethrough with it."

  "Why, Amy," gasped Ruth, suddenly finding her voice. "You can't doanything like that. He wouldn't let you."

  "He won't be there. I've arranged for Aunt Phoebe to take him off forthe day. The key to the house has been left hanging on the back porch."

  "Does she know?"

  "She doesn't, for I thought it was best for her to be able to say shedidn't know a thing about it. But she suspects that something's in thewind."

  Priscilla hesitated. "I suppose your idea is--"

  "My idea is to make such a looking floor that he will be only too gladto buy a carpet to cover it."

  The three girls looked at one another, and then Ruth gave a littlenervous giggle. After a minute Priscilla joined in. And then all threeleaned back in the seats in a paroxysm of silent laughter, while theirfellow passengers regarded them enviously.

  "Well, I don't know but you're right about Peggy," admitted Priscilla,at length, wiping her eyes. "I'm pretty sure she would not haveapproved."

  "I think it serves him just right," declared Ruth. "I detest stingypeople."

  "It does serve him right," said Amy. "He has plenty of money, but hehates to part with any of it. Poor Aunt Phoebe has a little money ofher own, and before she married him she got no end of fun out of doingthings for other people. And now the dear old soul can't even treat herfriends to strawberries without being humiliated. Anyway," concludedAmy with decision, "I'm
bound she shall have a carpet for her livingroom next winter."

  They found the farm house on the hill silent and deserted, the backdoor locked, and the key hanging in such plain view that it seemed aninvitation to enter. Indoors they found the living room made readyagainst their coming. All the furniture had been moved into adjoiningrooms and the floor had been given an extra and quite unnecessaryscrubbing.

  The girls hastily arrayed themselves for the work. Priscilla and Amyhad brought along the outfits they had worn as farmerettes, whileRuth donned a worn-out bathing suit. Then Amy pried off the coversof her array of cans, and presented each of her friends with a smallpaintbrush. The fun began.

  Amy's suggestion that a striking design should be painted in the middleof the room, and at each of the four corners, was enthusiasticallyaccepted, and Priscilla at once undertook the execution of a Chinesedragon in the corner of the room which was most in evidence to onestanding in the doorway. Amy taking possession of the can of yellowpaint, set herself to reproduce a sunrise in the center of the room,the yellow rays radiating from the central golden orb in the mostrealistic manner. Ruth, her imagination stimulated by the discovery ofa can of black paint, promptly set about balancing Priscilla's dragonby a black cat in the opposite corner, its back arched like a bow, andits tail standing upright like an ebony plume.

  They splashed about, admiring one another's work enthusiastically andcomplacently accepting compliments for their own. And when the variousmasterpieces had been executed to the satisfaction of the artists,they fell to work filling in the remaining spaces with gaily coloredrhomboids, red, yellow, green, black, and purple. Nothing more gorgeousthan Aunt Phoebe's painted floor could possibly be imagined. Even thehighly colored chromos on the wall paled before it. In some respectsit suggested an old-fashioned crazy-quilt, though when the dragon andthe black cat were taken into account, it was more like a bad case ofnightmare. After the girls had finished, they withdrew to the nextroom and, gazing upon it, tried to imagine the sensations of UnclePhilander-Behind-His-Back when its kaleidoscopic magnificence shouldbreak upon his astonished gaze.

  Suddenly they were panic-stricken for fear the occupants of the farmhouse should return before they had taken their departure. They dressedin such haste that they failed to get the full benefit of the bottle ofturpentine Amy had brought along for cleansing purposes, and they wentback to town with green and purple smudges on their fingers. As soonas they had reached home, they descended on Peggy to tell her of themanner in which they had fulfilled Amy's promise, and Peggy listenedwith amazement tinged with admiration.

  "I'm rather glad you didn't tell me, for I'm afraid I should havethrown cold water, and I can't help thinking it's exactly what UnclePhilander-Behind-His-Back deserves. And if it really drives him intobuying a new carpet, I shall feel satisfied that you've done the rightthing."

  The four girls had agreed to play tennis Saturday of that week, butearly Saturday morning Amy called Peggy up to ask to be excused."Aunt Phoebe is coming in town for some shopping," she explained, andinterrupted herself by an ecstatic giggle. "And she wants me to go withher. She wants me to help her select a carpet for the sitting room."