CHAPTER XIII
PEGGY GIVES A DINNER PARTY
RUTH moped after Nelson's departure. Just how much her depression wasdue to missing him, and how much was the result of self-reproach, shecould not have told. Each time she realized his absence she rememberedwith a pang the hurt wonder of his face that night in the station. Itdid not help matters that Nelson seemed to consider himself entirely toblame for what had happened, and had written her from the train a mosthumble apology for failing to be at her home at eight o'clock as he hadpromised. In fact, his assumption that she could not possibly be in thewrong only made Ruth the more conscious of her pettiness.
It was largely on Ruth's account that Peggy resolved on her dinnerparty. For after scolding Ruth soundly, and giving her to understandthat she was very much ashamed of her, Peggy had set herself resolutelyto cheer her despondent friend. On the Friday following Nelson'sdeparture something went wrong with the heating plant at college, andthe classes were dismissed at ten o'clock. At once Peggy determined tocelebrate.
"Father and mother have gone away for the week end, and Dick's goinghome with his chum after school, and I shan't see him till bed-time.Come to dinner all of you. We'll have an old-fashioned good time."
The recipients of this invitation accepted promptly. They were in therather hilarious mood which for some reason characterizes the mostambitious student when school is dismissed for the day, college seniorsas well as kindergarten tots. "Only you must let us come over and helpyou," stipulated Ruth.
"Yes, come on, and then if anything doesn't turn out well, I canblame some of you. I wonder--do you know, I've half a mind to inviteHildegarde Carey."
The others approved, especially Priscilla who had a great admirationfor Bob's attractive sister.
"She took us out that evening, you know," Peggy continued. "She'salways been awfully sweet to me and I've never done anything for her.The only thing--well, I feel a little bit afraid of her."
"I'll testify that she can eat a very simple meal and seem to enjoyit." And Amy chuckled as she always did when she recalled the firsttime Hildegarde had sat at her table.
Peggy laughed understandingly. "I think I'll ask her. I've alwaysthought it was a sort of snobbishness to be ashamed to give your bestto people who have more than you do. Though I'm not sure that a partyof girls will appeal to her."
Apparently she had misjudged Hildegarde. For the latter's tone, whenshe responded to Peggy's invitation given over the phone a few minuteslater, was unmistakably enthusiastic.
"A dinner party and just girls! How cute! I'd adore to come, Peggy,but would it put you out if I brought my friend Virginia Dunbar? She'sa New York girl who's making me a little visit and she's perfectlyfascinating."
"Why, bring her of course. I shall love to meet her." Peggy'shospitality rendered her response sufficiently fervent, but as she hungup the receiver, her face wore a thoughtful expression. The littledinner party, which had seemed pure fun when her three chums were herprospective guests, had become a responsibility, as soon as Hildegardewas added to the number. And with a New York girl coming, it seemeddistinctly formidable.
It had not previously occurred to Peggy that the house was not insuitable order for the reception of guests, but now as she looked aboutthe dining-room its shortcomings were painfully evident. She donned along apron and a sweeping cap, and set resolutely to work. When thedining room was swept and garnished, the living room across the hallsuffered comparison, and Peggy gave that equally careful attention.And as by this time she was on her mettle, she went to work cleaningthe silver. The twelve o'clock whistles surprised her in this exactingtask, and she swallowed a peanut-butter sandwich by way of luncheon,promising herself to make up for this abstemiousness at dinner, Peggywas not one of the temperamental cooks who cannot enjoy their owncooking.
At half past one she hurried forth with her market basket to make thenecessary purchases. She left by the back door and took the key withher. A little after two she was back again, the loaded basket on herarm. Peggy set her burden down, rubbed her aching muscles, and felt inher coat pocket for the key. Then she felt in the other pocket. Thenshe continued to search one pocket and then the other, with increasingevidences of consternation. But it was of no use. The key was gone.
"I must have had it in my hand and laid it down on the countersomewhere," thought Peggy. "Was ever anything so exasperating." Sheleft the basket outside the locked door, and hurriedly retraced hersteps. The butcher, whom she had visited first, shook his head inanswer to her question. No, he had not seen a stray door-key. It wasthe same at the grocer's, the same at the bakery where she had boughtParker-house rolls. Peggy walked home over the route she had traversed,her eyes glued to the side-walk, but she did not find the key.
Ruth was waiting for her by the front steps. "I thought I'd come overand help you. I hope you haven't finished everything."
"I haven't even started," replied Peggy in a hollow voice, andexplained the situation. Ruth was a girl of resources and at once shehad a bright idea.
"Peggy, our front door key looks a good bit like yours. Perhaps it willopen the door. I'll run over and get it."
"Then, fly," pleaded Peggy, "It's simply awful to be locked out of yourhouse when you have a million things to do."
Ruth sped on her errand at a pace which satisfied even the impatientPeggy, and returned with a key which really did look like the latch keywith whose appearance Peggy was most familiar. Hopefully she insertedit in the appropriate key-hole. Patiently she turned it this way andthat. The latch key was like a great many people, encouraging one'sexpectations by almost doing what it was asked to do, but never quitesucceeding. In the end Peggy mournfully relinquished all hope ofentering the house by its aid.
"I can't waste any more time on that key. It won't work, and I've gotto get in."
"How about the windows," suggested Ruth.
"The windows on the first floor are all locked, for I made sure of thatbefore I started out."
"If we could borrow a ladder--"
"I don't know anybody who owns a ladder. No, there's just one chance asfar as I can see. I've always wondered if I could get in through thecoal shute and now I'm going to see."
"But, Peggy, it's so dirty."
"I know, but it's got to be done."
"You might get stuck," exclaimed Ruth, turning pale. "Wait a little,Peggy. Perhaps something will happen."
"Unless an air ship comes along and takes me to a second story window,I can't think of anything that could happen that would be of any helpto me."
The narrow, inclined passage through which the coal was chuted fromthe side walk to the cellar bin, looked small enough and black enoughto justify Ruth's forebodings. But Peggy's impatience had reached thepoint where anything seemed better than inaction. She lowered herselfinto the chute, and when she released her hold of the edge, her descentwas so rapid that Ruth shrieked. But after a moment of suspense sheheard an encouraging rattle of coal, and then steps slowly ascendingthe cellar steps. A little later the front door was shaken violentlywithout opening, however, and Peggy's face presently appeared at oneof the living-room windows. Regardless of the fact that her friend wasattempting to tell her something, Ruth screamed with laughter, forPeggy's face was so begrimed as to suggest that her habitual occupationwas that of a chimney-sweep. Ruth's laughter was short-lived, however,for raising her voice, Peggy made herself heard, and with an accent ofauthority by no means characteristic.
"Stop laughing, Ruth, and help me. In fooling with your key I've donesomething to that wretched lock, and now I can't open the door evenfrom the inside."
"The front door?"
"I can't open either door," cried Peggy. "I can't open _any_ door. Theonly way to get into the house is by the window, and Hildegarde Careyis coming to dinner and a girl from New York."
"What do you want me to do, Peggy?" Ruth was so carried away by herfriend's excitement that for the moment she was unable to see anythinghumorous in the situation.
"Bring
me my market basket, first. It's on the back steps. And thenfind a locksmith and bring him here. Don't be satisfied with having himsay he'll come. Bring him with you."
Ruth hurried to the back of the house, secured the heavy basket, andreturned with it to the living room window. And then she astonishedPeggy by setting the basket down and beginning to laugh hysterically.
"What on earth--"
"Oh, Peggy, please excuse me. I really didn't mean to laugh, buthonestly you're the funniest sight I've ever seen. You're striped justlike a zebra."
Curiosity led Peggy to consult the mirror over the mantel. But insteadof laughing as Ruth had done, she uttered a tragic groan.
"It's going to take a terrible time to clean that off, if it ever doescome off. Oh, Ruth, hurry! When I think of all that will have to bedone before six o'clock, my head just whirls."
Ruth took a hasty departure and Peggy, having carried the basket tothe kitchen, rushed upstairs to remove all traces of her recent novelentry. As this necessitated an entire change of clothing and the useof a prodigious amount of soap and hot water, her toilet consumed moretime than she could well spare. But at length, clean and extremelypink, and attired in a little frock not too good for getting dinnerand yet good enough to pass muster at the table, she rushed downstairsand attacked her vegetables. And still no sign of Ruth, bringing thelocksmith.
About five o'clock Priscilla arrived ready to lend a hand. Peggyanswered her ring at the window, instead of at the door, and after abrief conversation, the tall Priscilla made an unconventional entry.Amy arriving twenty minutes later was admitted by the same entrance.The girls made themselves useful and speculated on what was detainingRuth.
"I don't mind letting you girls in through the window," groaned Peggy."But it's different with Hildegarde. And that New York girl. Oh,heavens!"
At five o'clock they were all too nervous to know what they were doing.Peggy set skillets on the stove with nothing in them, and snatched themoff again, just in time to avert disaster. She salted vegetables andthen forgot and salted them all over again. Priscilla was trying to setthe table, and making a poor job of it, as is generally the case whenone is doing one thing and thinking of another. Amy, after going to thefront window on the average of once in every two minutes to see if Ruthwere coming, felt that she could bear inaction no longer.
"Peggy, where's the latch key to your front door?"
"Hanging on a hook over by the umbrellas. But you can't do anythingwith it. I've tried."
"What a key has done a key can undo," replied Amy, sententiously; andpossessing herself of the magic piece of steel, she climbed out of thewindow and set to work. For fifteen or twenty minutes she continuedto fumble at the lock without results, and she was on the point ofdeciding that she might be putting in the time to better advantage,when something clicked encouragingly. Amy turned the knob, and squealedwith delight; for the door opened.
Before she could proclaim her success, Priscilla had made a discovery.Lying across a chair in the kitchen was a garment of some indeterminateshade between blue and black. "What's this?" asked Priscilla, pausingto examine it.
"It's my old blue coat. But since I came down the coal chute, I don'tknow as I can ever wear it again. It isn't worth sending to thecleaner's, and I'm afraid it's beyond my skill."
"I'll hang it in the laundry," said Priscilla, and lifted the smuttygarment daintily by the tips of her fingers. The coat swung against theround of the chair with a distinct clink, and Peggy looked up quickly."What was that?"
"A button, wasn't it?"
"The buttons are cloth. And that was such a queer sound--like metal."
Priscilla had a brilliant idea. Disregarding the fact that the coaldust with which the garment was covered came off on her hands, shebegan eagerly feeling along the lower edge. And just as Amy heard theclick that meant victory, Priscilla uttered an ecstatic cry.
"The key, Peggy! I've found your key!"
"What? Where? Oh, Priscilla, not really?"
"There must have been a hole in your pocket," declared Priscilla. "Thekey slipped down between the outside and the lining. You can feel foryourself. There's a key all right, and it's not likely it's a differentone."
"Take a knife and rip up the lining at the bottom," ordered Peggyrecklessly. "Yes, of course it's the key. I wonder if I'd rather havethat New York girl come in by the back door or the front window."
That query had hardly left her lips, when Amy rushed in. "I've done it,Peggy, I've done it."
"You don't mean you've got the door open?"
"Yes, I have. I was just ready to give up and then I tried again andsomething clicked and the deed was done."
"And Priscilla's found the back-door key. Now Ruth will come with thelocksmith."
They heard footsteps even as she spoke, and then Ruth's voiceexplaining to the locksmith that the only way to get into the house wasby the window. Peggy went to meet them, assuming a very dignified airthat she might not look sheepish.
"We succeeded in opening the doors that were troubling us, but there'sa key broken off in a lock upstairs. Since you're here, you might aswell attend to that. Will you take him upstairs Ruth? It's the door ofthe den." And then Peggy beat a retreat to the kitchen, leaving Ruth topropitiate the locksmith, who had left his shop reluctantly, yieldingto her impassioned representations of the urgency of the case.
Dinner was more than half an hour late, and failed to justify Peggy'sreputation as a cook, for some dishes were over-salted and othersentirely lacking that essential ingredient, while the pudding was sooverdone that it was necessary to remove the top layer, and concealdeficiencies by a quite superfluous meringue. But since Peggy hadplanned her dinner party with the purpose of distracting Ruth'sthoughts, she had every reason to consider it an unqualified success.
Peggy Raymond's Way; Or, Blossom Time at Friendly Terrace Page 13