CHAPTER X
IN INKY PLIGHT
"It's perfectly fine, Glad; I think it will be the most fun ever. Howmany are you going to have?"
"About thirty, Mother says. I can't ask Kitty, and Dorothy Adams. All onthe list are about as old as we are."
"Kitty'll be sorry, of course; but I don't believe mother would let hergo in the evening, anyway. She's only nine, you know."
The two friends, Marjorie and Gladys, were on their way to school, andGladys was telling about a Hallowe'en party she was to have thefollowing week. The party was to be in the evening, from seven tillnine, and, as it was unusual for the girls to have evening parties, theylooked forward to this as a great occasion. Nearly all of the childrenwho were to be invited went to the same school that Gladys did, so shecarried the invitations with her, and gave them around before schoolbegan.
The invitations were written on cards which bore comical little picturesof witches, black cats, or jack-o'-lanterns, and this was the wording:
Though the weather's bad or pleasant, You're invited to be present At Miss Gladys Fulton's home On Hallowe'en. Be sure to come. Please accept, and don't decline; Come at seven and stay till nine.
Needless to say these cards caused great excitement among the favoredones who received them.
Boys and girls chattered like magpies until the school-bell rang, andthen it was very hard to turn their attention to lessons.
But Marjorie was trying in earnest to be good in school, and not getinto mischief, so she resolutely put her card away in her desk, andstudied diligently at her lessons.
Indeed, so well did she study that her lesson was learned before it wastime to recite, and she had a few moments' leisure.
She took out her pretty card to admire it further, and she scrutinizedclosely the funny old witch riding on a broomstick, after the approvedhabit of witches.
The witch wore a high-peaked black hat, and her nose and chin were longand pointed.
Suddenly the impulse seized Marjorie to make for herself a witch's hat.
She took from her desk a sheet of foolscap paper. But she thought awhite hat would be absurd for a witch. It must be black. How to make thepaper black was the question, but her ingenuity soon suggested a way.
She took her slate sponge, and dipping it in the ink, smeared it overthe white paper.
This produced a grayish smudge, but a second and third application madea good black.
The process, however, of covering the whole sheet of paper with ink wasextremely messy, and before it was finished, Marjorie's fingers weredyed black, and her desk was smudged from one end to the other.
But so interested was she in making a sheet of black paper that she paidno heed to the untidiness.
Gladys, who had turned her back on Marjorie, in order to study herlesson without distraction, turned round suddenly and gave anexclamation of dismay. This startled Marjorie, and she dropped hersponge full of ink on her white apron.
She straightened herself up, with a bewildered air, aghast at the stateof things, and as her curls tumbled over her forehead, she brushed themback with her inky hands.
This decorated her face with black fingermarks, and several of thepupils, looking round at her, burst into incontrollable laughter.
Midget was usually very dainty, and neatly dressed, and this besmearedmaiden was a shock to all beholders.
Miss Lawrence turned sharply to see what the commotion might be, and,when she saw the inky child, she had hard work to control her ownmerriment.
"What _is_ that all over you, Marjorie?" she said, in as stern tones asshe could command.
"Ink, Miss Lawrence," said Midget, demurely, her simple straightforwardgaze fixed on her teacher's face. This calm announcement of a fact alsostruck Miss Lawrence ludicrously, but she managed to preserve a gravecountenance.
"Yes, I see it's ink. But why do you put it on your face and hands andapron?"
"I don't know, Miss Lawrence. You see, I was using it, and somehow itput itself all over me."
"What were you doing with it?" Miss Lawrence was really stern now, forshe had advanced to Marjorie's desk, and noted the sponge and paper.
"Why, I was just making some white paper black."
"Marjorie, you have been extremely naughty. What possessed you to inkthat large sheet of paper?"
"I wanted to be a witch," said Marjorie, so ruefully that Miss Lawrencehad to laugh after all.
"You _are_ one, my child. You needn't ever make any effort in thatdirection!"
"And so," went on Midget, cheered by Miss Lawrence's laughing face, "Ithought I'd make me a witch's hat, to wear at recess. Truly, I wasn'tgoing to put it on in school. But I had my lessons all done, and so----"
But by this time the whole class was in a gale.
The inky little girl, so earnestly explaining why she was inky, was afunny sight, indeed. And, as they laughed at her, some big tears ofmortification rolled down her cheeks.
These she furtively wiped away with her hand, and it is needless to saythat this added the finishing touch to the smudgy black and whitecountenance.
Miss Lawrence gave up. She laughed until the tears ran down her owncheeks, for Marjorie was really crying now, and her little handkerchiefonly served to spread the inky area around her features.
"My dear child," said the teacher, at last, "I don't know exactly whatto do with you. I can't wash that ink from your face, because it won'tcome off with only cold water. You must go home, and yet you can't gothrough the streets that way. But I have a brown veil I will lend you.It is fairly thick, and will at least shield you from observation."
So Miss Lawrence took Marjorie to the cloak-room, arrayed her in her ownhat and her teacher's veil, and then went with the little girldownstairs to the front door. On the way she talked to her kindly, butshe did not attempt to gloss over her naughty deed.
"I am sending you home, Marjorie," she said, "because you are not fit tostay here. If you were, I should keep you in, and punish you. You surelyknew it was wrong to spill ink all over everything. You have ruined yourdesk, to say nothing of your clothes and your own belongings."
"I'm so sorry, Miss Lawrence," said penitent Midget. "I just tried to begood this morning. But I happened to think what fun it would be to havea big, high-peaked witch's hat to prance around in at recess; and Ithought I could make the paper black without such a fuss."
"Well," said Miss Lawrence, with a sigh, "I don't know what to say toyou. Go home now, and tell your mother all about it. I'll leave thematter of punishment in her hands. I'm sure you didn't mean to dowrong,--you never do,--but, oh, Marjorie, it _was_ wrong!"
"Yes, it was, Miss Lawrence, and I'm awful sorry. I do hope Mother willpunish me."
Marjorie's hope was so funny that Miss Lawrence smiled, as she kissedthe stained little face through the sheltering veil, and then Midgettrudged off home, thinking that as Miss Lawrence had kissed her, shehadn't been so very bad, after all.
"What _is_ the matter, child?" exclaimed Mrs. Maynard, as Marjoriemarched into her mother's room. "Why have you that thing on your head,and why are you home from school at this hour?"
Midget couldn't resist this dramatic situation.
"Guess," she said, blithely. Her inky hands were in her coat pockets,her apron was covered by her outer garment, and her face was obscured bythe thick brown veil.
"I can't guess just what's the trouble," said her mother, "but I doguess you've been getting into some mischief."
Marjorie was disappointed.
"Oh," she said, "I thought you'd guess that I've broken out withsmallpox or measles or something!"
Mrs. Maynard was preoccupied with some intricate sewing, and did notquite catch the first part of Marjorie's remark. But the last words senta shock to her mother-heart.
"What!" she cried. "What do you mean? Smallpox! Measles! Has it brokenout in the school? Take off that veil!" As she spoke, Mrs. Maynardjumped up from her chair, and ran to her daughter with outstretchedarms.
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br /> This was more interesting, and Midget danced about as she turned herback to her mother to have the veil untied.
With trembling fingers Mrs. Maynard loosened the knot Miss Lawrence hadtied, and hastily pulled off the veil. Meantime, Midget had thrown offher coat, and stood revealed in all her dreadful inkiness.
The saucy, blackened face was so roguishly smiling, and Mrs. Maynard wasso grateful not to see a red, feverish countenance, that she sat down ina chair and shook with laughter.
This was just what Marjorie wanted, and, running to her mother's side,she laughed, too.
"Get away from me, you disreputable individual," said Mrs. Maynard,drawing her pretty morning dress away from possible contamination.
"Oh, Mothery, it's all dry now; it can't hurt you a bit! But isn't itawful?"
"Awful! You scamp, what does it mean?"
"Why, it's ink, Mother, dear; and do you s'pose it will ever come off?"
"No, I don't! I think it's there for the rest of your life. Is that whatyou wanted?"
"No. Not for my whole life. Oh, Mother, can't you get it off with milk,or something?"
Marjorie had seen her mother try to take ink-stains out of white linenwith milk, and, though the operation was rarely entirely successful, shehoped it would work better on her own skin.
"Milk! No, indeed. Pumice stone might do it, but it would take your skinoff, too. Tell me all about it."
So the inky little girl cuddled into her mother's arms, which somehowopened to receive the culprit, and she told the whole dreadful story.Mrs. Maynard was truly shocked.
"I don't wonder Miss Lawrence didn't know what to do with you," shesaid; "for I'm sure I don't, either. Marjorie, you _must_ have known youwere doing wrong when you began that performance. Now, listen! Ifsomebody had told you of another little girl who cut up just such aprank, what would you have said?"
"I'd have said she ought to know better than to fool with ink, anyway.It's the most get-all-overy stuff."
"Well, why did you fool with it, then?"
"Well, you see, Mother, I did know it was awful messy, but that know wasin the back of my head, and somehow it slipped away from my memory whenthe thought that I wanted a witch hat came and pushed it out."
"Now, you're trying to be funny, and I want you to talk sensibly."
"Yes'm, I am sensible. Honest, the thought about the witch hat was soquick it pushed everything else out of my mind."
"Even your sense of duty, and your determination to be a good littlegirl."
"Yes'm; they all flew away, and my whole head was full of how to makethe white paper black. And that was the only way I could think of."
"Well, have your thoughts that were pushed out come back yet?"
"Oh, yes, Mother; they came back as soon as I found myself all inky."
"Then, if they've come back, you know you did wrong?"
"Yes, I do know it now."
"And you know that little girls who do wrong have to be punished?"
"Ye-es; I s'pose I know that. How are you going to punish me?"
"We must discuss that. _I_ think you deserve a rather severe punishment,for this was really, truly mischief. What do you think of staying homefrom Gladys' Hallowe'en party as a punishment?"
"Oh, Moth-er May-nard! You just _can't_ mean _that_!"
"I'm not sure but I do. You _must_ learn, somehow, Midget, that if youdo these awful things, you must have awful punishments."
"Yes, but to stay home from Gladys' party! Why, those horrid, cruelpeople in the history book couldn't get up a worse punishment than that!Mother, say you don't mean it!"
"I won't decide just now; I'll think it over. Meantime, let's see whatwe can do toward cleaning you up."
The process was an uncomfortable one, and, after Marjorie's poor littleface and hands had gone through a course of lemon juice, pumice stone,and other ineffectual obliterators, she felt as if she had hadpunishment enough.
And the final result was a grayish, smeared-looking complexion, verydifferent from her own usual healthy pink and white.
Greatly subdued, and fearful of the impending punishment, Marjorie layon a couch in her mother's room, resting after the strenuous exertionsof her scrubbing and scouring.
"I do think I'm the very worst child in the whole world," she said, atlast. "Isn't it surprising, Mother, that I should be so bad, when you'reso sweet and good? Do you think I take after Father?"
Mrs. Maynard suppressed a smile.
"Wait till Father comes home, and ask him that question," she said.
Marjorie's Busy Days Page 10