Six Girls and Bob: A Story of Patty-Pans and Green Fields

by Marion Ames Taggart

  CHAPTER IX

  JUNE'S PERFECT DAYS

  "DO you know we love the Ark?" said Happie to Margery, as they openedthe back door to let in all the glorious outdoors June time, having atlast succeeded in their ambition to get down one morning ahead of Rosie.

  June had come softly, swiftly over the mountains, bringing all herwealth of beauty to the exiles from the lesser treasures of the city,a beautiful surprise in every hour. Robins were nesting in the gnarledapple trees; Happie looked into their homes every morning when shearose, sharing the happiness of the brooding mothers whose secrets shejealously guarded.

  Grass and clover were beginning to blossom to be ready for harvestingon the fourth of July, cherries were reddening in the long sunshine ofthe perfect days, and nature generously seconded the efforts of thenewcomers and of the carpenters in repairing and concealing damages tothe neglected buildings of the new-old home.

  Ralph and Bob were busy building chicken houses and tinkering on sheds.Miss Bradbury, in the innocence of her heart, had decided that it wouldbe good to keep chickens, and they had been added to the stock of theArk.

  Rosie was most competent, slightly cross as quick workers are apt tobe, but she took the direction and care of the household upon hershoulders, and Miss Bradbury was glad to overlook a snappishness whichwas, as Margery said, "merely the snapping of the crust; not one bitfrom her heart." It was worth while for the sake of being steeredthrough the waters of her inexperience of farm life. They all felt thatPenny was justified in her gravely uttered opinion that Rosie was "alovely lady."

  The family had discovered that Rosie had had her share of sorrow,represented by five child graves in the Methodist churchyard, anda living husband who occasionally called upon her. This Mahlon wasworking on a farm seven miles distant. Bob asked if he were employedas a scarecrow, for a more limp, lazy, incompetent creature was neverseen outside The Wizard of Oz. He had a trick of standing on one leg,and swinging the other in unison with the arm on the same side whichwas an inexhaustible amusement to the children when he came to thefarm. He talked in a high, monotonous whine which gave his long thinface the effect of a penny whistle emitting the sound--altogether asharper contrast to energetic Rosie that he was would have been hardto imagine. The Scollards gathered that her struggle for existencewhen her children were coming, and quickly going to fill those littlegraves, had been harder than she said. They were glad for her sake, aswell as their own, that she had closed her forlorn house, sent off herMahlon to work in Zurich according to his ability, and had come to workfor them according to her own, very different ability.

  Competent as Rosie was, however, she was but one woman, and there wasenough left for the girls to do to help her. Happie, on the whole andallowing for those days when the grasshopper is a burden, reveled inher tasks and sang about them all day long, getting brown and plump andprettier for her activity. Margery never reached the point of enjoyingher share of the labor, which made it the more creditable that shequietly performed it each day, never complaining, still less shirking,for Margery had that fine conscientiousness which asks: "Should I?" andnever: "Would I?"

  Rosie came down in less than ten minutes after the girls, and alteredthe draughts of the stove instantly. Rosie always changed slightlyanything done by another, being imbued with doubts of others'competency.

  "What got you up so early?" she asked. "My alarm went off, but I laid aminute plannin' my work for the day."

  "I couldn't sleep, I was so excited about that horse," said Happie. "Isuppose I woke Margery, though I thought I was trying not to waken her.Just as soon as breakfast is over, and the work done I want to go overto tell Gretta about him."

  Happie had gone on since she had scraped acquaintance with Gretta,cultivating her all down the fence line as she painted. When the postswere all done, and the double line of wire connecting gorgeous freshred posts, Happie had completely exorcized Gretta's shyness. She hadeven followed her up when duty called her to decorate the posts nearestto the house, and had braved the forbidding glare of Gretta's cousins'eyes with such beaming unconsciousness of the possibility of any one'sobjecting to Gretta's having a friend that she had escaped beingordered away, as Gretta had prophesied that she would be.

  "I'd hate to have them say anything to you," Gretta had said anxiously.

  And Happie had laughed with a pat on Gretta's arm that was meant to bereassuring, but which sent a great blob of red paint on the flagstonewalk.

  "They won't say anything to me, Gretta," she had declared. "No one everdoes. I'll smile so sweetly, they can't reflect back a frown."

  "I'll have to get that off with coal oil," Gretta remarked, regardingthe spot on the walk ruefully. "You don't know my cousins; they're notvery good looking-glasses. They frown anyway, and they don't reflectyou, no matter how you smile."

  It was true that they did not reflect Happie's smiles, but neither didthey frown. They regarded her with icy impassivity, glad in theirhearts of a chance to see near by "one of the new folks" about whomthey felt so much curiosity, and reserving their right to preventGretta's enjoying her when they saw fit.

  Gretta was blossoming out under the new happiness and companionship;she was full of a quiet humor that delighted Happie, and she imitatedher little niceties of speech with a quickness that rarely needed asecond hint. But Happie had not thus far been able to overcome hershyness sufficiently to get her to meet any of the other inmates of theArk, whom Gretta avoided under one head, as "the rest." She had begunto despair of ever making her one of their jolly little band when DonDolor Bonaparte came to her aid.

  "What is it to-day, Happie?" asked Miss Bradbury, noting the symptomsof haste in her namesake's breakfast preparations.

  "I am going to trap Gretta with Don Dolor, Aunt Keren," laughed Happie."I want to run over and tell her there is a horse coming, and I hope Ishall be able to get her here to see him. You know Gretta is more thanfond of horses, and they say she knows more about them than half themen around here; she can drive anything. I think I can coax her to theArk by pretending we want her opinion of Don Dolor Bonaparte."

  "I'm afraid, judging from Mr. Hewett's letter, that her opinion of himwon't be high, and I'm certain she wouldn't have to be a horsewoman todrive him," said Miss Bradbury. "But by all means bait your trap withDon Dolor, and troll your woodland maiden to the Ark. I am curious tosee the girl that attracts you so strongly."

  "I'm sure we shall love her if Happie does," added Mrs. Scollard. Hercheeks were gaining a June tint. Smiling back at her, Happie thoughtthat it was not strange that they were all learning to love the farmthat was restoring her to them.

  Happie hurried through her morning tasks and raced over to see Gretta.She felt quite sure that at that hour she should find her carryingwater to the young lettuce plants which her cousins, Eunice andReba Neumann, were raising for the hotels five miles distant on themountains, which in July and August would be thronged with guests.

  "Gretta, Gretta!" cried Happie waving her hands as she leaped thegarden fence. "Gretta, Aunt Keren has had a letter from Mr. Hewett, heragent in New York, and he has sent up a horse. Bob and Ralph are goingdown to the station this minute to bring him up. I think he must bepretty bad, because this Mr. Hewett wrote that we were not to judge himby our first impressions. He says he bought him for next to nothing,but if he survives the journey, and we feed him well, we'll see that itwas not only a charity but an investment to buy him. He says he hasblood, though at first sight we shall think he has only bones. He sayshis name is Don Dolor Bonaparte--only fancy! You've got to come backwith me and receive him. We don't any of us know anything about horses,except Rosie, and you know a lot. So you come back with me, and tell mewhat you think of poor Don Dolor." And artful Happie smiled alluringly.

  Gretta looked up with a laugh in her dark eyes. "Maybe I don't see whatyou're after!" she said. "You want to get me started coming; I know!Truly, Happie, I don't like to see the rest. I don't know them, and ifI d
id get over being afraid of them, still, I would never get time tovisit. You bring the horse down the road and I'll see him there."

  Happie folded her hands prayerfully. "Please, please, Gretta, come homewith me and see the new old horse! Look at me; don't I look pleading?Have you the heart to say me nay, when I beg you with my paws folded,like a nice little dog, and say _please_ so prettily?"

  Gretta laughed. "You make folks do whatever you want," she said. "I'llcome if you'll wait till I get these plants watered, and change mydress."

  "I'll wait till the lettuce dresses itself for a salad and you for avisit, if you like!" cried Happie triumphantly. "Bob and Ralph haveonly just started for the station, and they won't get back for nearlytwo hours anyway; Jake Shale took them down, and you know that isslower than walking. So we've plenty of time."

  "I've got to tell Eunice and Reba," said Gretta. "They may take anotion to make me stay home."

  "I believe you hope that they will!" cried Happie reproachfully. "Seehere, Gretta, you'll find that the Scollards neither bark nor bite,because it is their nature to--not! They are the nicest things, everyone of them! You'll like Margery better than me; that's my one fear inbringing you together."

  "I guess not," said Gretta looking up at Happie from her knees as sheweeded the lettuce with eyes full of dog-like devotion and admiration.

  "You let me ask your cousins to let you go with me; they won't refuseyou to me, for shame's sake. You've finished all your work for themorning," said Happie.

  "Work's never finished," corrected Gretta out of her deeper experience."And we haven't had dinner."

  "Maybe it won't take long to look over Don Dolor; he may not be a largehorse," suggested Happie. "Come along, Gretta."

  Gretta ushered Happie into the fleckless kitchen. There were two gauntwomen, looking past sixty, though neither could have been much pastforty. One was stirring milk in a stone crock on the back of the stove,which was just thickening into perfection for schmier-kase, while hersister was tying on her sunbonnet with resolute jerks of the strings,and hunting for the basket to bring in more wood. Her movements wereaccompanied by a running fire of scolding about Gretta, to whoseaccount she set down the absence of the basket, which all the time hungpeacefully on a nail in full sight above the table.

  "What's wrong with you?" demanded Reba, lifting the crock from thestove and setting it down with the emphasis of its weight. "It's easierusing the wheelbarrow anyhow, but if you want the basket, there 'tis. Iguess you're getting near-sighted."

  "I guess!" retorted Eunice derisively. "Why didn't you hang that therebasket alongside the stove? Here I've been a-huntin' and a-huntin' forit," she added, catching sight of Gretta, and quite ignoring Happie.

  "Good-morning, Miss Neumann," said that young lady, somewhat dauntedby the difficulties of this beginning, but holding to her courage. "Myaunt has a horse just arrived, and I'd like to have Gretta come over tosee him, please. You'll let her go, for a little while, won't you?"

  "A horse? From the city? What good does she expect a city horse to beon these mountains?" demanded Eunice. "She'd better bought one up here,and saved the express on him yet!"

  "Oh, I think this horse was sent into the country for his health,"laughed Happie. "You will let Gretta come over, won't you?"

  "How do you make out with Rosie Gruber?" inquired Eunice. "She's gotsuch a temper, folks say, Mahlon can't stay home. She hain't clean;not what we call clean."

  "Why, Miss Neumann!" cried Happie, shocked into undiplomatic defense ofRosie. "She hasn't a bad temper; she's only a little, wee bit snappish,and as to Mahlon, if it wasn't for Rosie he wouldn't have a home tostay in--but of course you know that even better than I do! And she'sthe cleanest woman! She's made our tumble-down old house as clean aswax. Rosie's a treasure."

  "That house you seem to think so poor of hadn't ought to be yoursanyhow," said the agreeable Eunice. "Old Bittenbender hadn't any rightto give it over to your folks. There's cheatin' somewheres, but wecouldn't never prove nothin'. 'Twan't his to give; we're certain ofthat. It ought to belong to Gretta here, and if she had it she couldrent it out, or maybe take a couple of summer boarders after a year, ora couple of years more, instead of bein' a cost to us who need all wekin make for ourselves! Gretta, you git off that there bonnet and gitup the potatoes. What you standin' round fer? Hain't there always workto do, I'd like to know?"

  Gretta did not answer. She hung up her sunbonnet with quiet obedience,and took the tin basin in which to fetch potatoes. She seemed torecognize at once the uselessness of further pleas for her visit.

  But Happie, seeing the clouding of the dark eyes and the look of shameon the pretty face of her new friend, cried out: "Oh, Miss Neumann,Gretta wouldn't be gone long! Won't you please, _please_ let her comehome with me? She hasn't been once! Are--you are going to let her come,aren't you?"

  "Well, I guess she hain't goin' visitin' before dinner!" said Eunice."She'd better not go no time. I tell her she'll find out what she'llgit, makin' friends with a city girl like you, that'll git tired of her'soon's you've got used to her, and then where'll she be, with her headall filled up with foolish notions, and tryin' to talk fine, like youyet? I've got my eyes open; I see just what you're doin' with Gretta.She'd better stick to her own folks, that's what _she'd_ better! Shecome into the world to work, and she's got to work all her life. Youwon't do her no good, makin' her discontented and then leavin' her.I've been warnin' her, but she's like all girls--thinks she knowsmore'n older folks! I'm glad I've got the chanct to tell you to yourface you'd better leave Gretta stay where you found her. I bet youlaugh at her now when you git home with the rest!"

  Happie's eyes blazed. She took a step towards Eunice, drawing herselfup to the woman's height in her righteous indignation. Gretta quailed,even while she rejoiced that this time Eunice had met one who did notfear her.

  "Miss Neumann," said Happie, trying to speak quietly, remembering thatthis woman was much her elder, and the imprudence of angering herfurther, for Gretta's sake. "Miss Neumann, I can't allow you to accuseme of being double-faced. When I say I admire and like Gretta I meanit, and when I speak _of_ her, I speak as I do _to_ her. If I wereso treacherous, so mean as to pretend to be her friend and then wenthome and laughed at her I should be severely punished; my mother wouldhave no mercy on a hypocrite. But why should I laugh at Gretta? Sheis pretty, gentle, refined, good, and patient as I never could be. Ilike her very much, and she knows I do. I'm not going to drop her, andI won't forget her. I wish you would not try to teach her to mistrustme; it's not fair. And even if she did come into the world to work--Isuppose she did, because everybody has to work, one way or another--shecame into it for lots else, and I mean to help her find the rest. Italmost seems as if you grudged her love and pleasure. Of course youdon't, because you couldn't, but it almost seems so. Anyway you willplease never speak of me again as you did just now, because I can'tpossibly be called double-faced."

  Gretta's heart thrilled as she listened to her friend pouring out herwords more rapidly than her cousins had ever heard any one speak, butclearly, and with a dignity that struck precisely the right note ofoutraged honor and of self-restraint.

  Eunice turned away her eyes from the girl's glowing ones; she felt theforce of Happie's justice and her own meanness.

  "I don't see what you're going to do about it whatever I say, and Ihain't goin' to leave no one tell me what to talk about," she muttered."I don't care what Gretta does. We took her because we had to, and shehain't never been grateful to us. If she wants to hang around you Iwon't stop her, but she can't let her work undone. Gretta, when are yougoin' down cellar after them potatoes?"

  "Now, Eunice," said Gretta. There was a new note in her quiet voice,and she immediately turned to Happie. "I've got to help with dinnernow, Happie, and I may be busy a while after that, but I'll come overthis afternoon to your house."

  Reba looked up quickly from the cheese which she was straining througha cloth. "Yes, you go, Gretta," she said, and Happie went awaywondering
.

  She was not sufficiently versed in human nature to know that Gretta'ssudden accession of decision had come from two things. First, shewas emboldened by Happie's encounter with her cousin, but still morewas she forgetting herself, her dread of visiting, in the desire toprove to her champion that she held to her faith in her unshaken, andthat she wished with all her loyal heart to make up to Happie for hercousin's hatefulness. In her desire to show her confidence in herfriend and her gratitude to her, at last the fear of that vague "rest"of the Scollards had been lost.

  Happie reached home so excited by her adventure with Eunice that shedid not rush out to see the new horse as she had planned doing.Instead she regaled her family with the story, almost forgetting toeat, she talked so fast.

  "Well, dear; I hope you weren't impertinent, but from what you tell meI think you weren't," said her mother, when the long tale was finished."For Gretta's sake as well as your own you were obliged to vindicateyourself from the charge of insincerity. And more years do not warrantimputations on another's honor."

  Rosie Gruber, taking part as usual in the family councils, hereinterposed. "Of course she wasn't saucy; Happie's never saucy. Theidea of telling her to her face she was two-faced yet! You send themNeumanns to me! I'll tell 'em how you're always talking about Grettaand planning to help her! Two-faced, you! That's a good hint you giveher about grudging Gretta friends; you hit her there, and she knew it.There never was such a jealous-hearted woman as Eunice Neumann. Shehates to see any one havin' a good time. When Reba was young she hada beau--Eunice never did; there wa'n't a man in the township wouldhave darst to keep comp'ny with Eunice, but Reba had a beau. And ifthat woman--girl she was then, but just the same's now at heart--ifshe didn't hint round and fuss round till she got him to stop goin'with her sister, then my name isn't Rosie Heimgegen, Rosie Gruber now!Reba'd be different if she lived somewheres else. Eunice nags and nagstill Reba gits to snappin' back--there hain't many things so ketchin'as snappin'. Eunice grudges Gretta her board and keep, though she earnsit good. She's mad to think Gretta's happier this summer. There isfolks like that, all sour and clabbered like schmier-case----My days!That puts me in mind! I went off and let that pot too far front on thefire! I wanted to hurry it a while, but I guess it's hurried too much."And good Rosie rushed out to the rescue of her schmier-case, to whichshe was trying to convert the family, hurried so fast that JeunesseDoree fled to the windowsill for safety, a puff of nervousness.

  Miss Bradbury looked at her namesake sternly, but there was a belyingtwinkle in her eye. "What do you mean by embroiling me with myneighbors, Keren-happuch?" she demanded.

  "If the horse is Don Dolor, you are Donna Quixote, Happie," added Ralphbefore Happie could reply to the inquiry of the head of the house.

  "Oh, well, Aunt Keren, Happie thinks you might as well be embroiledwith this Eunice, I suppose, because she is making Gretta's life aroast," said Bob coming to his sister's rescue. "I am curious to seethis field-flower--she must be a daisy!"

  "She is," laughed Happie. "My goodness, she's coming now! She must havehurried off right after her dinner! I was afraid her courage would failher when the time came. Bob and Ralph, slip out to the barn and don'tshow yourselves until you come around with the horse--then there'llbe something to talk about, and she won't be shy with you. Margery,you come out after me, soon, and speak to her without my introducingyou--you know how. Smile at her and speak in your soft voice, andshe'll never be frightened. I'll take Penny out with me; Gretta lovesbabies, and Polly is too little to mind, so she can do what she likes.And mama and Aunt Keren might slip out when we are in full swing withDon Dolor, and Gretta may not realize she's meeting you. I guess shewon't be shy if we sort of leak out, and don't all face her at once.Oh, Laura! Well, I think you'd better follow me at first."

  "And what am I to do?" asked Rosie, amused, yet pleased with the painsHappie was taking to launch Gretta smoothly on social waters.

  "Oh, you can do whatever you please, and help us out. You understandher, and she knows you. You make us laugh, Rosie. Come on with Happie,Penny-tot."

  "Cabbages and kings!" cried Bob. "It's worse than snaring a timid fawn,or catch a dicky-bird with salt! I hope she's worth the trouble." Andhe departed stableward with Ralph to carry out their part of Happie'sprogramme.