Nancy and Plum

by Betty Macdonald

  The sky was a deep clear blue, the air was fragrant with apple blossoms and newly ploughed earth, birds chirped and trilled from every bush, chipmunks skittered around and around the tree trunks like stripes on a barber pole and the grass in the meadows billowed off into the distance in big soft rolling waves like the sea. It was a perfect day for a picnic. Plum wanted to run and sing and jump over a fence and climb a tree. Nancy wanted to lie on her back and look at the sky through the pink apple blossoms and listen to the birds. But Miss Gronk wanted to walk as slowly and as silently as a turtle and so that is what they did.

  Plum said, “I hate Miss Gronk. She’s spoiling the whole day.”

  Nancy said, “Let’s pretend that underneath all those old coats and scarves and shawls is really a beautiful princess and if we believe in her and don’t get angry with her, when we get to Lookout Hill she’ll shed those old clothes and emerge all golden and beautiful.”

  Plum said, “All right, but how do you know we’re going to Lookout Hill?”

  Nancy said, “I just feel that we are and anyway the turnoff is ahead just a little way.”

  Plum said, “One thing I’m glad of. Old Marybelle’s having a terrible time. I noticed that her eyes are already watering from the fumes of the horse liniment and she has to hold Miss Gronk’s hand and you know how cold and damp Miss Gronk’s hands always are.”

  Nancy said, “Oh, Plum, you shouldn’t say anything about the Princess. She is terribly sensitive about the ugly disguise she has to wear.”

  Plum said, “Nancy, look at the low branch on that big maple tree. I’m going to run over there, jump up and grab it and take one great big swing. I bet it’ll be just like flying.”

  Nancy said, “Miss Gronk, I mean the Princess, won’t like it.”

  Plum said, “I don’t care. I just have to take one swing.” And like a little fawn she jumped over the fence, ran across the field and leapt up and grabbed the branch. The branch bent down and she got a good hold, then lifted her feet off the ground and the branch swung up and then down, then up and down. Plum felt like a leaf in the wind, like a little beetle on a blade of grass, like a bee on an apple blossom. She forgot all about Miss Gronk, about everything but the fact that it was spring and she was a little girl swinging in a tree.

  Then she heard Nancy calling, “Plum, come on. Miss Gronk will be mad as anything.”

  Plum took one last big swing that lifted her way up into the branches of the tree and then let go. Her hands were red and burning from holding on to the bark but she felt wonderful, alive and happy and wonderful.

  She called to Nancy, who was coming across the field toward her, “Come on, Nancy, take one swing. It’s like magic.”

  Nancy said, “Well, maybe just one. We can catch up to Miss Gronk in a second, she walks so slow.”

  She jumped and grabbed the branch and swung up, up, up into the tree, then way down to the ground, where Plum was waiting, her blue eyes bright with happiness. Nancy, too, felt like a leaf, a bee on a flower and a flower in the wind. Again and again she swung and then Plum took a turn, then Nancy another turn and another and the time flew by and pretty soon they stopped to rest and realized that it was almost noon and Miss Gronk and the picnic were nowhere in sight.

  Grabbing their lunch bags, they jumped over the fence and ran down the road clear to the turnoff for Lookout Hill before they saw Miss Gronk and the Sunday-School class far ahead of them.

  “Oh, Nancy,” Plum wailed, “she isn’t going to Lookout Hill at all.”

  Nancy said, “I wonder if she saw the sign.”

  Plum said, “Of course she saw it. It’s about ten feet high. Where do you suppose she is going?”

  Nancy said, “I know. She’s going to the cemetery. See, she’s taking the hill past the church.”

  Plum said, “Well, I’m not going to a picnic in the cemetery. I’m going up Lookout Hill.”

  Nancy said, “Do we dare?”

  Plum said, “Yes, we dare. Here we go,” and she waved good-bye to Miss Gronk and the Sunday School and turned up the hill.

  The path to Lookout Hill was long and very steep but it led through the woods and the trees were shady and the pine needles were springy and there were bluebells in the crevices of the rocks. Nancy and Plum grew very tired and very hungry but they had made up their minds not to stop nor to eat their lunch until they reached the Lookout place. And they didn’t.

  About three o’clock Nancy said, “I wonder if we’re on the right path. We’ve been climbing for hours and we should be there now.”

  Plum said, “The sign said Lookout Hill and it pointed this way. Come on, I’ll race you around the next curve.”

  Nancy said, “You go on. I’m too tired.” Plum ran around the curve and came back calling, “We’re there! We’re there! Hurry up, you can see for a thousand miles!”

  Nancy grabbed Plum’s hand and together they ran around the last curve and then they were leaning against the old stone wall that marked Lookout Hill. Far, far down below them, a river was trying to wriggle its way out of a steep canyon. Over to the right, thick green hills crowded close to each other to share one filmy white cloud. To the left, as far as they could see, the land flowed into valleys that shaded from a pale watery green, through lime, emerald, jade, leaf, forest, to a dark, dark bluish-green, almost black. The rivers were like inky lines, the ponds like ink blots.

  Nancy said, “I feel just like an angel flying around and looking down at the earth.”

  Plum said, “Let’s live up here. Let’s pitch a tent right here and live on nuts and berries like pioneers.”

  Nancy said, “Let’s eat our lunch right now. I’m starving.”

  Plum said, “Look, hard-boiled eggs, peanut-butter sandwiches and apples. Katie must have fixed the lunches.”

  Nancy said, “Oh, Plum, see! A little squirrel. Look, there below the wall. Here, little squirrel, here’s a tiny peanut-butter sandwich.” Nancy broke off a piece of her sandwich and tossed it down to the squirrel. He picked it up in his paws, stuffed it in his mouth and ran off.

  Plum said, “I wonder if Miss Gronk has started home yet.”

  Nancy said, “I wouldn’t doubt it. She probably made the children line up on tombstones, choke down their lunch and then start right back. I wonder what she brought in her lunch. It was an awfully big bag.”

  Plum said, “The bag was probably filled with medicines. I’m glad we don’t have to watch old Marybelle eating her special lunch with fried chicken and little cupcakes. I hope Miss Gronk’s liniment smelled so awful it made Marybelle sick. Say, I bet if we ran all the way down from here we can be at the path before they get there.”

  Nancy said, “We’d better, otherwise Miss Gronk will go right over and tell Mrs. Monday.”

  Plum said, “Let’s feed the squirrels a few more sandwiches, fill our eyes with the view so we can never forget it and then run.”

  Nancy said, “The way to remember how it looks up here is to look, then close your eyes and see if you can still see it. If you can’t, then keep looking until you can.”

  Side by side they stood by the stone parapet, staring at the view, closing their eyes tight, then staring again. When at last they thought they could remember everything, they turned and started down the path. Going down was so easy they fairly flew. Sometimes they ran, sometimes they took big jumps and slid on the slick pine needles and sometimes in the steepest places they sat down and slid. When they got to the turnoff they were quite breathless. They decided to rest before starting for Miss Gronk’s house.

  Plum lay on her back, arms folded under her head, looking up into a tall pine tree. She said, “I think I’ll be a tramp when I grow up. I love to be outdoors and tramps have a lot of fun.”

  Nancy said, “I’m going to get married and have twelve children and every single day in the week I’ll give them a party, or a taffy pull, or a real picnic, or a …”

  Plum said, “Hush, be quiet a minute. I think I hear Miss Gronk and the children. Let’s
pretend that we’ve been waiting here for them.”

  Nancy said, “We’ll pretend we couldn’t find them.”

  Plum said, “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s hide behind the sign until they get past, then tag along at the end of the line as though we had been there all the time. I’ll bet old Miss Gronk won’t even know.”

  “I’ll bet Marybelle will though,” Nancy said.

  Plum said, “Let’s try it anyway.”

  So when Miss Gronk and the sad little Sunday Schoolers filed past, Nancy and Plum waited a minute, then got into line behind Nipper.

  Eunice, who was the last in line, said, “Where were you kids, I waited and waited for you.”

  Plum said, “Don’t tell anybody but we went up to Lookout Hill.”

  Eunice said, “It was awful in the cemetery. Miss Gronk drank soup out of her thermos bottle and then took a nap. I wandered around reading the tombstones and smelling the flowers but it was awfully dreary. The other kids started a game of hide and seek but Miss Gronk said it wasn’t respectful to the dead. What is it like at Lookout?”

  Nancy and Plum told her and Eunice said that it sounded just like the time she rode in the Ferris wheel and could see for miles and miles. She said that Miss Waverly had told her that they might go up to Lookout on the school picnic.

  Plum said, “Did Miss Gronk say anything about our not being with you at the cemetery?”

  Eunice said, “No, she didn’t even notice. She was too busy taking pills and rubbing liniment on her throat. Marybelle asked me where you were and I said you were at the other end of the cemetery playing house. She acted as if she didn’t believe me.”

  Nancy said, “I’m sorry you didn’t get to go with us, Eunice, but we didn’t even know we were going ourselves. We stopped to swing in a tree and you all got ahead of us and then we saw the Lookout sign.”

  Plum said, “Come on, there’s the tree. Let’s have one swing before we go home.”

  Nancy said, “We’d better not, Plum. Marybelle will tell and then maybe we can’t go to the school picnic.”

  Plum said, “Oh, all right.”

  Miss Gronk said, “Hurry up, girls. Old Tob is waitig ad I dough you’re all tired frob your busy day.”

  Plum and Nancy said, “Thank you for the nice time, Miss Gronk, and we hope your cold is much better.”

  Miss Gronk said, “Hurry up, girls, dod’t keep Tob waitig.”

  When they got home, Mrs. Monday shooed them into the kitchen and said, “Well, you’ve certainly had a nice day and I hope I won’t hear another word about picnics for a long time.”

  Marybelle said, “Oh, Aunty Marybelle, we had a horrid time. Miss Gronk smells awful and we ate in the cemetery.”

  Mrs. Monday said, “In the cemetery? Why in the world did she go there?”

  Marybelle said, “She had a terrible cold and anyway she wanted to put flowers on her sister Lulu’s grave. She wouldn’t let us talk. She made us walk single file and she spilled liniment on me and in my lunch basket.”

  Mrs. Monday said, “It certainly doesn’t sound like much of a picnic. Were the other children nice to you?”

  Marybelle said, “Nancy and Plum sneaked off and hid from me.”

  Mrs. Monday said, “Why did you hide from Marybelle, Nancy and Pamela?”

  Plum said, “We weren’t hiding from her. We were hiding from Miss Gronk. Her liniment smells awful and her hands are cold and damp.”

  Marybelle said, “And she made me hold her hand all day.”

  Mrs. Monday said, “Well, at least you got out in the fresh air, now let’s hear no more about it. Nancy and Pamela, if I am not mistaken, it is your turn to set the table. Go and wash your hands and get to work.”

  That night after they were in bed, Nancy said, “You know, Plum, I can close my eyes and it’s just as if I was back on Lookout Hill, I can see everything so plainly.”

  Plum said, “I can close my eyes and remember exactly how it felt to be swinging in that tree.”

  Nancy said, “Poor old Miss Gronk, with nothing in her head but colds and sad thoughts.”

  6

  A Magic Carpet

  IT WAS A CLEAR WARM SATURDAY AFTERNOON, late in May. Miss Appleby, the Heavenly Valley librarian, and about twenty-eight children, ranging in age from five to thirteen years, were holding a story-telling session on the lawn in front of the little library building.

  In the process of getting settled, there had been the usual amount of high-spirited roggling, wrestling and jostling for positions close to Miss Appleby, but the minute her warm, pleasant voice began “And the secret garden bloomed and bloomed and every morning revealed new miracles …” the children had become as motionless and quiet as the grass on which they sprawled. Now the only sounds that competed with Miss Appleby’s reading were necessary sniffs or loud swallows and the buzz of an occasional inquisitive bee.

  Miss Appleby, her library books and her story-telling sessions were very popular with all the children in Heavenly Valley. To Nancy and Plum they were a magic carpet that whisked them out of the dreariness and drudgery of their lives at Mrs. Monday’s and transported them to palaces in India, canals in Holland, pioneer stockades during Indian wars, cattle ranches in the West, mountains in Switzerland, pagodas in China, igloos in Alaska, jungles in Africa, castles in England, slums in London, gardens in Japan or, most important of all, into happy homes where there were mothers and fathers and no Mrs. Mondays or Marybelles.

  Of course, as soon as Mrs. Monday realized how important reading and Library Day were to Nancy and Plum, she either gave them so many extra chores to do that they had to get up at dawn in order to finish in time for Old Tom to drive them to town or she kept them at home as a punishment for some slight little mistake, usually something Marybelle had made up. Unfortunately for her, one spring, in a fit of spite, she kept them at home for three times in succession and Miss Appleby, having learned from the other children the reason for Nancy and Plum’s absences, took the matter up with their teacher. The result was a letter to Mrs. Monday from the principal of the school, stating that he considered Library Day a most important part of education and from then would excuse only children too sick to walk.

  Mrs. Monday, who didn’t believe in libraries or reading but didn’t want an investigation of her methods of punishment, replied that from then on Nancy and Plum could attend Library Day but she would not be responsible for any book fines. The principal showed Mrs. Monday’s letter to Miss Appleby, who said that if necessary she would pay the fines herself. She said, “My story-telling sessions and reading the books they borrow from the library are obviously the only pleasures those poor little mites have. What kind of a woman is this Mrs. Monday anyway?”

  Miss Waverly, who had come to the library with the principal, said, “Well, all I know is that she is tall and gaunt, doesn’t smile with her eyes and is very strong on punishment. I sometimes wonder if those children have enough to eat. They are all so small and scraggly looking.”

  Miss Appleby said, “Do Nancy and Plum have any parents?”

  Miss Waverly said, “No they have not. They have been at Mrs. Monday’s year in and year out for a long time.”

  Miss Appleby said, “What is the matter with people who dump children in boarding homes without investigating them first. Of course, Mrs. Monday’s children are all very well behaved, use correct English and have nice manners but, with the exception of Nancy and Plum, they are all so subdued, so sad and so timid.”

  Miss Waverly said, “I believe that you are responsible for Nancy and Plum’s fine spirit.”

  “What do you mean?” Miss Appleby asked.

  “I mean,” Miss Waverly said, “that you have encouraged them to read, which has given them wisdom and understanding and humor way beyond their years.”

  Miss Appleby said, “Well, I wish I had enough money to give them a big meal with every story-telling hour.”

  Miss Waverly said, “Sometimes food for the soul is more important than food for t
he body. I wish I could learn more about Nancy and Plum. They don’t seem to know anything about their background beyond the fact that their parents were killed in a train wreck and they are supposed to be in the care of an uncle who has never written or been to see them since he deposited them in Mrs. Monday’s Boarding Home.”

  Miss Appleby said, “I’d like to have a chance to talk to that uncle or any of the other people responsible for those little waifs that live with Mrs. Monday.”

  Miss Waverly said, “Just wait until I tell you about Christmas and the doll Eunice’s aunt gave her.”

  When she got through with the story, Miss Appleby said, “Where did Nancy and Plum go for Christmas?”

  Miss Waverly said she didn’t know. She hadn’t asked them. She said, “Nancy and Plum are proud. They don’t complain. The only reason I learned anything at all about Christmas was because they needed help in making that doll for Eunice.”

  Miss Appleby said, “The thing that makes me so boiling mad is that I know of at least a dozen homes right here in Heavenly Valley where a child would be as welcome as sunshine. Homes where they either don’t have children or their children are grown up.”

  Miss Waverly said, “Oh, I know but what are you going to do? Mrs. Monday won’t give out any information and you can’t take the children away from her without their parents’ or guardians’ consent. All we can do is to make the little time they spend with us as happy as possible. My only trouble is that every single time I plan a picnic or a play or anything that is going to be fun, Mrs. Monday manages to keep the children home. All except Marybelle, of course, she has and does everything.”

  Miss Appleby said, “She is the only child I ever have any trouble with here in the library. Speaking of trouble, it’s almost time for the children, so I’d better get busy.”

  So, here they were out on the lawn and Miss Appleby was just finishing The Secret Garden.

  “ ‘Across the lawn came the Master of Misselthwaite and he looked as many of them had never seen him. And by his side with his head up in the air and his eyes full of laughter walked as strongly and steadily as any boy in Yorkshire—Master Colin!’