CHAPTER XI: HALLOWEEN
Halloween fell on Saturday that year. That made Friday a very busytime for Maida and the other members of the W.M.N.T. In theafternoon, they all worked like beavers making jack-o'-lanterns ofthe dozen pumpkins that Granny had ordered. Maida and Rosie andDicky hollowed and scraped them. Arthur did all the hard work--thecutting out of the features, the putting-in of candle-holders. Thesepumpkin lanterns were for decoration. But Maida had ordered manypaper jack-o'-lanterns for sale. The W.M.N.T.'s spent the eveningrearranging the shop. Maida went to bed so tired that she couldhardly drag one foot after the other. Granny had to undress her.
But when the school-children came flocking in the next morning, shefelt more than repaid for her work. The shop resounded with the "Ohmys," and "Oh looks," of their surprise and delight.
Indeed, the room seemed full of twinkling yellow faces. Lines ofthem grinned in the doorway. Rows of them smirked from the shelves.A frieze, close-set as peas in a pod, grimaced from the molding. Thejolly-looking pumpkin jacks, that Arthur had made, were piled in apyramid in the window. The biggest of them all--"he looks just likethe man in the moon," Rosie said--smiled benignantly at thepassers-by from the top of the heap. Standing about everywhere amongthe lanterns were groups of little paper brownies, their tiny headsturned upwards as if, in the greatest astonishment, they wereexamining these monster beings.
The jack-o'-lanterns sold like hot cakes. As for the brownies,"Granny, you'd think they were marching off the shelves!" Maidasaid. By dark, she was diving breathlessly into her surplus stock.At the first touch of twilight, she lighted every lantern left inthe place. Five minutes afterwards, a crowd of children had gatheredto gaze at the flaming faces in the window. Even the grown-upsstopped to admire the effect.
More customers came and more--a great many children whom Maida hadnever seen before. By six o'clock, she had sold out her entirestock. When she sat down to dinner that night, she was a very happylittle girl.
"This is the best day I've had since I opened the shop," she saidcontentedly. She was not tired, though. "I feel just like going to aparty to-night. Granny, can I wear my prettiest Roman sash?"
"You can wear annyt'ing you want, my lamb," Granny said, "for 'tisthe good, busy little choild you've been this day."
Granny dressed her according to Maida's choice, in white. A very,simple, soft little frock, it was, with many tiny tucks made by handand many insertions of a beautiful, fine lace. Maida chose to wearwith it pale blue silk stockings and slippers, a sash of blue,striped in pink and white, a string of pink Venetian beads.
"Now, Granny, I'll read until the children call for me," shesuggested, "so I won't rumple my dress."
But she was too excited to read. She sat for a long time at thewindow, just looking out. Presently the jack-o'-lanterns, lightednow, began to make blobs of gold in the furry darkness of thestreet. She could not at first make out who held them. It wasstrange to watch the fiery, grinning heads, flying, bodiless, fromplace to place. But she identified the lanterns in the court by thehouses from which they emerged. The three small ones on the end atthe left meant Dicky and Molly and Tim. Two big ones, mounted onsticks, came from across the way--Rosie and Arthur, of course. Two,just alike, trotting side by side betrayed the Clark twins. Ababy-lantern, swinging close to the ground--that could be nobody butBetsy.
The crowd in the Court began to march towards the shop. For aninstant, Maida watched the spots of brilliant color dancing in herdirection. Then she slipped into her coat, and seized her ownlantern. When she came outside, the sidewalk seemed crowded withgrotesque faces, all laughing at her.
"Just think," she said, "I have never been to a Halloween party inmy life."
"You are the queerest thing, Maida," Rosie said in perplexity."You've been to Europe. You can talk French and Italian. And yet,you've never been to a Halloween party. Did you ever hangMay-baskets?"
Maida shook her head.
"You wait until next May," Rosie prophesied gleefully.
The crowd crossed over into the Court Two motionless, yellow faces,grinning at them from the Lathrop steps, showed that Laura andHarold had come out to meet them. On the lawn they broke into animpromptu game of tag which the jack-o'-lanterns seemed to enjoy asmuch as the children: certainly, they whizzed from place to place asquickly and, certainly, they smiled as hard.
The game ended, they left their lanterns on the piazza and troopedinto the house.
"We've got to play the first games in the kitchen," Laura announcedafter the coats and hats had come off and Mrs. Lathrop had greetedthem all.
Maida wondered what sort of party it was that was held in thekitchen but she asked no questions. Almost bursting with curiosity,she joined the long line marching to the back of the house.
In the middle of the kitchen floor stood a tub of water with applesfloating in it.
"Bobbing for apples!" the children exclaimed. "Oh, that's thegreatest fun of all. Did you ever bob for apples, Maida?"
"No."
"Let Maida try it first, then," Laura said. "It's very easy, Maida,"she went on with twinkling eyes. "All you have to do is to kneel onthe floor, clasp your hands behind you, and pick out one of theapples with your teeth. You'll each be allowed three minutes."
"Oh, I can get a half a dozen in three minutes, I guess," Maidasaid.
Laura tied a big apron around Maida's waist and stood, watch inhand. The children gathered in a circle about the tub. Maida knelton the floor, clasped her hands behind her and reached with awide-open mouth for the nearest apple. But at the first touch of herlips, the apple bobbed away. She reached for another. That bobbedaway, too. Another and another and another--they all bobbed clean outof her reach, no matter how delicately she touched them. That methodwas unsuccessful.
"One minute," called Laura.
Maida could hear the children giggling at her. She tried anotherscheme, making vicious little dabs at the apples. Her beads and herhair-ribbon and one of her long curls dipped into the water. But sheonly succeeded in sending the apples spinning across the tub.
"Two minutes!" called Laura.
"Why don't you get those half a dozen," the children jeered. "Youknow you said it was so easy."
Maida giggled too. But inwardly, she made up her mind that she wouldget one of those apples if she dipped her whole head into the tub.At last a brilliant idea occurred to her. Using her chin as a guide,she poked a big rosy apple over against the side of the tub. Wedgingit there against another big apple, she held it tight. Then shedropped her head a little, gave a sudden big bite and arose amidstapplause, with the apple secure between her teeth.
After that she had the fun of watching the other children. The olderones were adepts. In three minutes, Rosie secured four, Dicky fiveand Arthur six. Rosie did not get a drop of water on her but theboys emerged with dripping heads. The little children were not verysuccessful but they were more fun. Molly swallowed so much waterthat she choked and had to be patted on the back. Betsy after a fewsnaps of her little, rosebud mouth, seized one of the apples withher hand, sat down on the floor and calmly ate it. But the climaxwas reached when Tim Doyle suddenly lurched forward and fellheadlong into the tub.
"I knew he'd fall in," Molly said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Healways falls into everything. I brought a dry set of clothes forhim. Come, Tim!"
At this announcement, everybody shrieked. Molly disappeared with Timin the direction of Laura's bedroom. When she reappeared, sureenough, Tim had a dry suit on.
Next Laura ordered them to sit about the kitchen-table. She gaveeach child an apple and a knife and directed him to pare the applewithout breaking the peel. If you think that is an easy thing to do,try it. It seemed to Maida that she never would accomplish it. Shespoiled three apples before she succeeded.
"Now take your apple-paring and form in line across thekitchen-floor," Laura commanded.
The flock scampered to obey her.
"Now when I say 'Three!'" she continued, "throw the par
ings backover your shoulder to the floor. If the paring makes a letter, itwill be the initial of your future husband or wife. One! _Two_!THREE!"
A dozen apple-parings flew to the floor. Everybody raced across theroom to examine the results.
"Mine is B," Dicky said.
"And mine's an O," Rosie declared, "as plain as anything. What'syours, Maida?"
"It's an X," Maida answered in great perplexity. "I don't believethat there are any names beginning with X except Xenophon andXerxes."
"Well, mine's as bad," Laura laughed, "it's a Z. I guess I'll beMrs. Zero."
"That's nothing," Arthur laughed, "mine's an &--I can't marry anybodynamed ----'and.'"
"Well, if that isn't successful," Laura said, "there's another wayof finding out who your husband or wife's going to be. You must walkdown the cellar-stairs backwards with a candle in one hand and amirror in the other. You must look in the mirror all the time and,when you get to the foot of the stairs, you will see, reflected init, the face of your husband or wife."
This did not interest the little children but the big ones were wildto try it.
"Gracious, doesn't it sound scary?" Rosie said, her great eyessnapping. "I love a game that's kind of spooky, don't you, Maida?"
Maida did not answer. She was watching Harold who was sneaking outof the room very quietly from a door at the side.
"All right, then, Rosie," Laura caught her up, "you can go first."
The children all crowded over to the door leading to the cellar. Thestairs were as dark as pitch. Rosie took the mirror and the candlethat Laura handed her and slipped through the opening. The littleaudience listened breathless.
They heard Rosie stumble awkwardly down the stairs, heard her pauseat the foot. Next came a moment of silence, of waiting as tenseabove as below. Then came a burst of Rosie's jolly laughter. Shecame running up to them, her cheeks like roses, her eyes like stars.
They crowded around her. "What did you see?" "Tell us about it?"they clamored.
Rosie shook her head. "No, no, no," she maintained, "I'm not goingto tell you what I saw until you've been down yourself."
It was Arthur's turn next. They listened again. The same thinghappened--awkward stumbling down the stairs, a pause, then a roar oflaughter.
"Oh what did you see?" they implored when he reappeared.
"Try it yourself!" he advised. "I'm not going to tell."
Dicky went next. Again they all listened and to the same mysteriousdoings. Dicky came back smiling but, like the others, he refused todescribe his experiences.
Now it was Maida's turn. She took the candle and the mirror fromDicky and plunged into the shivery darkness of the stairs. It wasdoubly difficult for her to go down backwards because of herlameness. But she finally arrived at the bottom and stood thereexpectantly. It seemed a long time before anything happened.Suddenly, she felt something stir back of her. A lightedjack-o'-lantern came from between the folds of a curtain which hungfrom the ceiling. It grinned over her shoulder at her face in themirror.
Maida burst into a shriek of laughter and scrambled upstairs. "I'mgoing to marry a jack-o'-lantern," she said. "My name's going to beMrs. Jack Pumpkin."
"I'm going to marry Laura's sailor-doll," Rosie confessed. "My nameis Mrs. Yankee Doodle."
"I'm going to marry Laura's big doll, Queenie," Arthur admitted.
"And I'm going to marry Harold's Teddy-bear," Dicky said.
After that they blew soap-bubbles and roasted apples and chestnuts,popped corn and pulled candy at the great fireplace in the playroom.And at Maida's request, just before they left, Laura danced forthem.
"Will you help me to get on my costume, Maida?" Laura asked.
"Of course," Maida said, wondering.
"I asked you to come down here, Maida," Laura said when the twolittle girls were alone, "because I wanted to tell you that I amsorry for the way I treated you just before I got diphtheria. I toldmy mother about it and she said I did those things because I wascoming down sick. She said that people are always fretty and crosswhen they're not well. But I don't think it was all that. I guess Idid it on purpose just to be disagreeable. But I hope you willexcuse me."
"Of course I will, Laura," Maida said heartily. "And I hope you willforgive me for going so long without speaking to you. But you see Iheard," she stopped and hesitated, "things," she ended lamely.
"Oh, I know what you heard. I said those things about you to theW.M.N.T.'s so that they'd get back to you. I wanted to hurt yourfeelings." Laura in her turn stopped and hesitated for an instant."I was jealous," she finally confessed in a burst. "But I want youto understand this, Maida. I didn't believe those horrid thingsmyself. I always have a feeling inside when people are telling liesand I didn't have that feeling when you were talking to me. I knewyou were telling the truth. And all the time while I was gettingwell, I felt so dreadfully about it that I knew I never would behappy again unless I told you so."
"I did feel bad when I heard those things," Maida said, "but ofcourse I forgot about them when Rosie told me you were ill. Let'sforget all about it again."
But Maida told the W.M.N.T.'s something of her talk with Laura andthe result was an invitation to Laura to join the club. It wasaccepted gratefully.
The next month went by on wings. It was a busy month although in away, it was an uneventful one. The weather kept clear and fine.Little rain fell but, on the other hand, to the great disappointmentof the little people of Primrose Court, there was no snow. Maida sawnothing of her father for business troubles kept him in New York. Hewrote constantly to her and she wrote as faithfully to him. Letterscould not quite fill the gap that his absence made. Perhaps Billysuspected Maida's secret loneliness for he came oftener and oftenerto see her.
One night the W.M.N.T.'s begged so hard for a story that he finallybegan one called "The Crystal Ball." A wonderful thing about it wasthat it was half-game and half-story. Most wonderful of all, it wenton from night to night and never showed any signs of coming to anend. But in order to play this game-story, there were two or threeconditions to which you absolutely must submit. For instance, itmust always be played in the dark. And first, everybody must shuthis eyes tight. Billy would say in a deep voice, "Abracadabra!" and,presto, there they all were, Maida, Rosie, Laura, Billy, Arthur andDicky inside the crystal ball. What people lived there and whatthings happened to them can not be told here. But after an hour ormore, Billy's deepest voice would boom, "Abracadabra!" again and,presto, there they all were again, back in the cheerful living-room.
Maida hoped against hope that her father would come to spendThanksgiving with her but that, he wrote finally, was impossible.Billy came, however, and they three enjoyed one of Granny'sdelicious turkey dinners.
"I hoped that I would have found your daughter Annie by this time,Granny," Billy said. "I ask every Irishman I meet if he came fromAldigarey, County Sligo or if he knows anybody who did, or if he'sever met a pretty Irish girl by the name of Annie Flynn. But I'llfind her yet--you'll see."
"I hope so, Misther Billy," Granny said respectfully. But Maidathought her voice sounded as if she had no great hope.
Dicky still continued to come for his reading-lessons, althoughMaida could see that, in a month or two, he would not need ateacher. The quiet, studious, pale little boy had become a greatfavorite with Granny Flynn.
"Sure an' Oi must be after getting over to see the poor lad's mothersome noight," she said. "'Tis a noice woman she must be wid such apretty-behaved little lad."
"Oh, she is, Granny," Maida said earnestly. "I've been there once ortwice when Mrs. Dore came home early. And she's just the nicest ladyand so fond of Dicky and the baby."
But Granny was old and very easily tired and, so, though herintentions were of the best, she did not make this call.
One afternoon, after Thanksgiving, Maida ran over to Dicky's toborrow some pink tissue paper. She knocked gently. Nobody answered.But from the room came the sound of sobbing. Maida listened. It wasDicky's voice. At first she did not know wha
t to do. Finally, sheopened the door and peeped in. Dicky was sitting all crumpled up,his head resting on the table.
"Oh, what is the matter, Dicky?" Maida asked.
Dicky jumped. He raised his head and looked at her. His face wasswollen with crying, his eyes red and heavy. For a moment he couldnot speak. Maida could see that he was ashamed of being caught intears, that he was trying hard to control himself.
"It's something I heard," he replied at last.
"What?" Maida asked.
"Last night after I got to bed, Doc O'Brien came here to get hisbill paid. Mother thought I was asleep and asked him a whole lot ofquestions. He told her that I wasn't any better and I never would beany better. He said that I'd be a cripple for the rest of my life."
In spite of all his efforts, Dicky's voice broke into a sob.
"Oh Dicky, Dicky," Maida said. Better than anybody else in theworld, Maida felt that she could understand, could sympathize. "Oh,Dicky, how sorry I am!"
"I can't bear it," Dicky said.
He put his head down on the table and began to sob. "I can't bearit," he said. "Why, I thought when I grew up to be a man, I wasgoing to take care of mother and Delia. Instead of that, they'll betaking care of me. What can a cripple do? Once I read about acrippled newsboy. Do you suppose I could sell papers?" he asked witha gleam of hope.
"I'm sure you could," Maida said heartily, "and a great many otherthings. But it may not be as bad as you think, Dicky. Dr. O'Brienmay be mistaken. You know something was wrong with me when I wasborn and I did not begin to walk until a year ago. My father hastaken me to so many doctors that I'm sure he could not remember halftheir names. But they all said the same thing--that I never wouldwalk like other children. Then a very great physician--Dr.Greinschmidt--came from away across the sea, from Germany. He said hecould cure me and he did. I had to be operated on and--oh--I suffereddreadfully. But you see that I'm all well now. I'm even losing mylimp. Now, I believe that Doctor Greinschmidt can cure you. The nexttime my father comes home I'm going to ask him."
Dicky had stopped crying. He was drinking down everything that shesaid. "Is he still here--that doctor?" he asked.
"No," Maida admitted sorrowfully. "But there must be doctors as goodas he somewhere. But don't you worry about it at all, Dicky. Youwait until my father sees you--he always gets everything made right."
"When's your father coming home?"
"I don't quite know--but I look for him any time now."
Dicky started to set the table. "I guess I wouldn't have cried," hesaid after a while, "if I could have cried last night when I firstheard it. But of course I couldn't let mother or Doc O'Brien knowthat I'd heard them--it would make them feel bad. I don't want mymother ever to know that I know it."
After that, Maida redoubled her efforts to be nice to Dicky. Shecudgeled her brains too for new decorative schemes for hispaper-work. She asked Billy Potter to bring a whole bag of her booksfrom the Beacon Street house and she lent them to Dicky, a half dozenat a time.
Indeed, they were a very busy quartette--the W.M.N.T.'s. Rosie wentto school every day. She climbed out of her window no more at night.She seemed to prefer helping Maida in the shop to anything else.Arthur Duncan was equally industrious. With no Rosie to play hookeywith, he, too, was driven to attending school regularly. His leisurehours were devoted to his whittling and wood-carving. He was alwaysdoing kind things for Maida and Granny, bringing up the coal,emptying the ashes, running errands.
And so November passed into December.
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