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

by Harriet L. Smith

  CHAPTER VII

  THE FRIENDLY TERRACE ORPHANAGE

  PRISCILLA'S engagement, instead of interrupting her intimacy with herchums on Friendly Terrace, seemed to intensify it. Up to the nightthat she had walked with Horace in the park, and he had claimed her onthe score of an affection dating back to Babylon, Priscilla had ratherenjoyed informing Peggy and others that she would be unable to join intheir plans for the evening, as she was expecting a caller. But now allthis was changed. Instead, when Horace called up to suggest coming out,he was very likely to hear that his sweetheart of Babylonian days hadan imperative engagement with Peggy, or Ruth, or Amy, or more probablywith all three.

  It was after an evening spent at a moving picture house that Peggy madea suggestion destined to have more momentous results than she dreamed.They had gone early to avoid the crowd which a popular film is likelyto draw even in the warmest weather, and at nine o'clock they wereoccupying chairs on Peggy's porch, and discussing the heat. "How aboutice cream?" inquired Amy, fanning herself with a magazine some one hadleft in the hammock.

  Before any one could answer, Peggy had interposed with her astonishingsuggestion. "Girls, I move we adopt a French orphan."

  Amy forgot her interest in ice cream. "A French orphan," she gasped,"What for?"

  "Well, there are plenty of reasons from the orphan's standpoint,and several from ours, it seems to me. Do you know we're gettingextravagant."

  "Oh, Peggy," Ruth reproached her. "Why, as far as clothes go, I nevergot along with so few in my life."

  "I didn't say we were extravagant in clothes. But do you know, we'regetting to spend lots of money for little, no-account things. How manynights this week have we been to a movie?"

  The question was a rhetorical one, as Peggy knew the answer as well asany one. But nevertheless Amy replied, "We've been three times, but onenight the boys took us."

  "It costs just as much, no matter who pays. There are four of us; andat twenty-five cents apiece, that makes a dollar an evening. Threedollars a week for movies, just for us four."

  "Goodness," exclaimed Amy in as astonished a tone as if this verysimple arithmetical calculation had been beyond her. "That does seem alot."

  "And that's not all," continued Peggy. "We've had ice cream, or icecream soda, or something of the sort, at least three times this week,and these days you can't go near a soda fountain for less than fifteencents, and you're more likely to pay twenty or twenty-five. If we callour bill two dollars, that's putting it pretty low. Five dollars,altogether."

  "That _is_ too much, Peggy," Priscilla agreed. "Unless you stop tocount up, you wouldn't believe how much you can spend and all the timethink you've been economical. But why the French orphan?"

  "Well, it's awfully hard work saving by main strength, and it's easyenough if you have something to save for. If I happen to feel hungryfor ice cream--"

  Amy groaned. "Don't!" she said in a hollow voice. "If we're not goingto have any, for pity's sake don't talk about it."

  Peggy heartlessly ignored her friend's protest. "If I'm hungry for icecream, it doesn't do me much good to tell myself that I had a dishnight before last. I'll just think, 'Oh, well, what's twenty-fivecents!' But if I'm saving up for something, it's a different matter. Wefound that out when we were paying for our Liberty Bonds."

  "Won't it cost a great deal to adopt an orphan?" asked Ruth doubtfully.

  "Why, we won't have to pay all its expenses. But there are lots ofFrench children left without fathers and mothers, who have somerelative who can give them a home if they have a little extra to helpthem out. I think forty dollars will do it."

  "Forty dollars a year?" Amy exclaimed in amazement.

  "I'm pretty sure that's it. Mrs. Alexander was talking to me about itjust the other day, and I'm certain she said forty dollars."

  "Then let's adopt an orphan right away," cried Amy. "And we'll havemoney enough left for sodas."

  "Why, of course I didn't mean we should give up all our good times,"Peggy exclaimed. "Only it seemed to me we were getting a little tooextravagant. Then if you all agree, I think I'll go and telephone Mrs.Alexander that we'll take an orphan. She's worried because peoplearen't as interested as they ought to be."

  It was while Peggy was at the telephone that a small girl appeared,carrying a large bundle. "I've brought home Mrs. Raymond's dress," shesaid shyly, looking from one to another of the occupants of the porch.

  "Mrs. Raymond isn't home, but Miss Peggy is. She's telephoning now, butshe'll be out in a minute," said Priscilla.

  "You'd better sit down and rest while you wait for her," suggested Ruthkindly, pushing forward a porch rocking-chair. The small girl acceptedthe invitation and looked smaller than ever in the capacious depths ofthe big chair.

  Peggy came out beaming. "Mrs. Alexander is perfectly delighted, girls.She says--Why, hello, Myrtle!"

  "Hello, Miss Peggy," returned the girl with the bundle. "I brought homeyour mother's dress. Aunt Georgie couldn't get it finished any earlier."

  "Mother gave you up for to-night, Myrtle. She left at eight o'clock,but I think I know where she put the money."

  Peggy's conjecture proved correct. She brought out the amount of thedressmaker's bill, and having counted it before Myrtle's eyes, shefolded the bills carefully and stuffed them into Myrtle's diminutivepocket book. "Shall you be glad when school opens, Myrtle?" she askedpleasantly.

  "I'm not going to school any more, Miss Peggy."

  "What! You're going to leave school?"

  "Aunt Georgie can't afford to keep me any longer. Everything is sohigh," sighed the child, with a worldly-wise air that would have seemedfunny had it not been so apparent that she knew what she was talkingabout.

  "But you can't be nearly fourteen, Myrtle," protested Peggy. "And youwere doing so well in school."

  "I'm twelve in September, but Aunt Georgie can get permit for me towork, if she can't afford to keep me in school."

  "Would you rather work than go to school?" asked Amy, rather tactlessly.

  The eyes of the little girl filled. She sniffed bravely as she fumbledfor her handkerchief.

  "I like school better," she explained, a catch in her voice. "But Idon't like to be a burden."

  There was a brief silence on the porch as the little figure went downthe walk, and then Priscilla murmured pityingly, "Poor child!"

  "It's a shame," exclaimed Peggy warmly. "She's a bright little thing.She's not twelve till September, and she's ready for the high schoolalready. If she could go to school four years more she'd probably beable to earn a good living, but she'll never do very well if she stopsschool now, for she's not strong enough for heavy work."

  "It almost seems a pity," Ruth suggested, "that we've just adopted aFrench orphan. It seems there are orphans right at home who need helpjust as much."

  Peggy sighed. "I'm not sorry about the French orphan. I suppose wecan't imagine the need over there. But I do wish we could do somethingfor Myrtle."

  "Peggy Raymond," warned Amy. "Don't let your philanthropy run away withyou, and get the idea that we're an orphan asylum. One orphan is all wecan manage."

  "Yes, of course," Peggy agreed hastily. "Only I was wondering--poorlittle Myrtle!"

  "Can't her aunt afford to give her an education?" Priscilla asked, "Oris she stingy?"

  "Oh, I suppose it's pretty hard for Miss Burns to get along witheverything so expensive. She's not a high-priced dress-maker, andbesides she's mortally slow; one of the puttering sort, you know. Atthe same time," added Peggy, "I mean to see her and have a talk withher about Myrtle."

  Peggy was as good as her word. As postponement was never one of herweaknesses, she saw Miss Burns the following day, and the faded littlespinster shed tears as she discussed Myrtle's future.

  "Of course I know she ought to go on through high school," she sobbed."She's been at the head of her class right up through the grades, andif she could finish high school, she wouldn't need to ask any odds ofanybody. But I've laid awake night after night thin
king, and I can'tsee my way to do it."

  "If you had a little help, Miss Burns, I suppose you could manage,couldn't you? What is the very least you could get along on and letMyrtle stay in school?"

  "Why she can't earn a great deal of course," said Miss Burns, wipingher eyes. "She's not old enough for a sales-woman, and she's notstrong enough for any hard work, and she don't know anything aboutstenography."

  "And what is the very least you think you could take in place of havingMyrtle go to work?"

  Miss Burns was one of the people who have a constitutional aversionto answering a direct question, but Peggy's persistence left her noloop-hole of escape. Cornered at last, she expressed the opinion thatshe could do with a hundred dollars. For some reason not quite clear inher own mind, Peggy had hoped it might be less, and her face showed herdisappointment. "You think that is the very least you could get alongon, Miss Burns."

  "I'm afraid it is, Miss Peggy. Maybe I should have said a hundred andfifty. Look at the price of coal."

  "Oh, I know," Peggy agreed. "Well, perhaps something will come up soMyrtle won't have to leave school. I'm sure I hope so."

  Peggy repeated the substance of her conversation with Miss Burns to herthree chums that afternoon as they were on the way out to Amy's AuntPhoebe's. For in their efforts to circumvent the high cost of living,the Friendly Terrace girls had begun making weekly or even semi-weeklyvisits to the country. The season had been a favorable one for allgarden produce, but Mr. Frost was finding it difficult to get anythinglike the help he needed. The girls went out into the garden, picked andpulled what they wanted, paid a price which, compared with the chargesin the retail markets, seemed extremely reasonable, and came homewith loaded market baskets and a tinge of sunburn in their cheeks. Theweekly saving paid their car-fare many times over, and the fact thatthey all were together lent a festive air to the enterprise.

  Peggy's three friends listened silently to their story of her visit toMiss Burns. Peggy's generosity was always leading her to attempt thingsfar too big for her. The girls had stood by her loyally in the matterof the French orphan, but there they drew the line. A second orphan wastoo much.

  "I'm sorry," Amy said, with an air of dismissing the subject. "But Idon't see that we can do anything for her."

  "You don't think, do you," Peggy hesitated, "that we could give alittle entertainment--"

  "Oh, Peggy, people are bored to death with benefits and drives, andto try to raise money for a little girl nobody knows about would behopeless, especially when she's no worse off than thousands of others."

  "I suppose that's so," Peggy replied, and reluctantly dropped thesubject. Under her submission was a persistent hope that somethingmight happen to aid her in the matter she had so much at heart. Butthe last thing she or any one else would have thought was that suchassistance would come from Uncle Philander-Behind-His-Back.

  Mr. Frost had been having an unusually hard time with help and was inan exceptionally bad humor. He was one of the men who, when out ofsorts, invariable relieve their minds by criticism of the opposite sex.He had heard the girls chattering as they picked the lima beans, anddoubtless that furnished the text for his ill-natured sermon.

  "Women's tongues do beat all," he declared, as the girls came to thehouse to pay their reckoning. "It's small wonder they don't count muchwhen it comes to work. They get themselves all wore out talking."

  "I think we do some other things beside talking," declared Peggy,dimpling in a disarming fashion.

  "And I can't see that we say any sillier things than men do," added Amy.

  "O, men can talk or be quiet, just as they please, but a woman's gotto talk or die. You couldn't pay her enough to get her to hold hertongue."

  "You could pay me enough," said Peggy with spirit.

  "Me, too," Amy cried.

  Uncle Philander-Behind-His-Back sneered contemptuously. "Why, I'd giveyou four a hundred dollars to hold your tongues for a week."

  "Girls," cried Peggy turning to her friends, "I move we take him up onthat."

  Had Uncle Philander-Behind-His-Back been less disagreeable, lesscontemptuous, the girls might have hesitated, for a week of silence isan ordeal to the least voluble. But Mr. Frost's sneers, combined withPeggy's enthusiasm, swept them off their feet.

  "Yes, we'll take you up," Amy cried, and Priscilla and Ruth noddedapproval.

  Uncle Philander was a little taken aback, and showed it. "Youunderstand when I said hold your tongues, I meant it. If there's an_aye_, _yes_, or _no_ out of any of the four of you, it's all off."

  "Of course," agreed the four girls in chorus.

  Mr. Frost was plainly growing nervous. "Of course I haven't any way tokeep tab on you."

  "Philander," cried his wife, bristling with indignation, "If you thinkAmy or any of her friends would lie for the sake of money--"

  "No, I didn't mean that," he half apologized. "I put all four of you onyour honor. Not a word out of you, not so much as an _ouch_."

  "But we can write notes and explain to our families, of course," criedPeggy.

  "Of course," cried Amy, as Mr. Frost hesitated. "And talk on ourfingers. All you said was _tongues_."

  "You can write all the notes you want to," conceded Uncle Philandergenerously. Now that he had time to think of it, he was convinced thatthe conditions he had imposed could not possibly be complied with. Whohad ever heard of four lively girls maintaining an unbroken silence fora week? His hundred dollars was safe.

  After some discussion it was decided that the week should begin thefollowing morning, to give the girls ample chance to explain theirsingular undertaking to their friends. And then the four started offwith their heavy baskets, chattering excitedly, as if in the hopesof saying in the few hours remaining before bed time, all they wouldordinarily have said in the next seven days.