Nancy and Plum

by Betty Macdonald

  Nancy and Plum thanked Old Tom, and Plum said, “Well, Tom, if Mrs. Monday won’t let us go to the school program or the picnic, we are planning on going anyway and we may need you to help us get out.”

  Old Tom said, “I don’t have the keys to the gates, she keeps them, but if she wasn’t home I could help you over the fence.”

  Plum said, “If you help us, Tom, someday maybe we can help you.”

  Old Tom said, “Who knows, Plum, who knows?”

  While Plum and Nancy and Old Tom were talking in the barn, a farmer had stopped his truck and was examining a dead chicken that he had found lying in the road.

  “Too bad,” he said. “Somebody’s nice big, fat red hen.”

  He was just going to throw it in the ditch when he noticed something tied to its wing. Something white. With his pocketknife he cut the strings that held it, saw that the white thing was a letter, put the letter in his pocket and tossed the dead chicken away.

  When he got home he told his wife about finding the chicken with the letter tied to its wing. His wife said, “Sounds like some child’s idea. Let me see the letter.”

  The farmer took it out of the pocket of his blue shirt and handed it to his wife. She adjusted her glasses, looked it over carefully and said, “Certainly it is the work of a child. Notice the round careful writing. Also it hasn’t any stamp. Well, I’m going to town tomorrow and I’ll put a stamp on it and drop it at the post office.”

  8

  Uncle John’s Visit

  MONDAY MORNING AT RECESS, Nancy and Plum asked Miss Waverly if she would ask Miss Dowd if Nancy could wear the extra tree costume, if she sang her solo.

  Miss Waverly said, “What do you mean, if Nancy sings her solo?”

  Nancy said, “Well, Mrs. Monday has told Plum and me that we can’t be in the program or go to the picnic but we’re hoping that she will change her mind and if she doesn’t we’re going to try and come anyway.”

  Miss Waverly said, “Why won’t Mrs. Monday let you be in the program or come to the picnic?”

  Nancy and Plum told her the whole story and when they got through, Miss Waverly’s cheeks were bright red, her eyes were flashing and her lips were set in a thin straight line. She said, “Nancy and Plum, you can just plan on being in the program and you can count on the picnic. I am going in to see the principal.”

  Nancy and Plum hugged each other and Nancy said, “And you know what else, Plum, if I wear a tree costume to sing, then you can wear my school dress for the spelling match and it won’t be short on you at all.”

  Apparently Miss Waverly was as good as her word. That very afternoon when the children were changing their school clothes, Mrs. Monday sent Marybelle up to tell them that she had reconsidered and if Plum apologized to Marybelle they could be in the program and go to the picnic.

  Marybelle said, “Aunty Marybelle said that if you apologize to me, Nancy can sing her ugly old song and you can spell all the words wrong at the program Friday. She said you can go to the picnic, too.”

  Plum said, “All right, Marybelle. I’m sorry I put that little goldfish bowl on your head. I wish it had been bigger and with a shark in it.”

  Marybelle said, “That isn’t a real apology.”

  Plum said, “You didn’t tell us what Mrs. Monday really said, either.”

  Marybelle said, “Oh, all right. She said that you and Nancy can be in the program and go to the picnic if you tell me you’re sorry.”

  Plum said, “All right, I’m sorry”—adding under her breath, “that you’re such a sneaky little tattletale.”

  Marybelle said, “What did you say, Plum?”

  Plum said, “I said I’m sorry.”

  Marybelle said, “You said something more.”

  Plum said, “I was just practicing my spelling words.”

  Marybelle said, “I heard you say ‘sneaky little tattletale’!”

  Plum said, “Oh, Marybelle, you must have misunderstood me. I was spelling antique—a-n-t-i-q-u-e—and cattail—c-a-t-t-a-i-l. Those were two new words we had yesterday.”

  Marybelle said, “You didn’t spell antique right—it’s anteek.”

  Plum said, “It is not.”

  Marybelle said, “It is so.”

  Nancy said, “Come on, Plum, we must get started on our work. We have to wash all the parlor windows before supper.”

  Marybelle said, “A-n-t-i-q-u-e! That sounds crazy.”

  Plum said, “Just wait and see who wins the spelling match, Woodenhead with shaving curls.”

  Marybelle said, “I’m going to tell.”

  Plum said, “Oh, I forgot. I’m sorry, Marybelle, and you’re right about antique—it’s a-n-t-e-e-k.”

  Marybelle said, “Now who’s a woodenhead?” Then she flounced out of the room.

  Plum said, “I hope antique really is one of the words they give us.”

  Nancy said, “Come on, Plum, hurry. You know how long it takes to wash windows with cold water and ammonia.”

  Meanwhile, Mrs. Monday was in her sitting room tapping her foot, staring at the fire and boiling with rage. “How dare they tell me how to run my boarding home! ‘If Nancy and Pamela Remson aren’t at school Friday, I will take it up with the juvenile court,’ he said. What troublemakers. What dreadful little troublemakers! They get worse every day.”

  Just then Marybelle came in to report that Plum had apologized. She said, “I made old Plum apologize and then we were practicing for the spelling contest on Friday and do you know how that old woodenhead of a Plum spelled antique—a-n-t-i-q-u-e?”

  Mrs. Monday said, “And what is wrong with that?”

  Marybelle said, “Wrong? Why, it should be spelled a-n-t-e-e-k, that’s all.”

  Mrs. Monday said, “Oh, you stupid, stupid little girl. Go out of here.”

  Marybelle stared at her aunt in amazement. Never in all her life had she spoken to her like that.

  She said, “Aunty Marybelle, you’re being mean to me.”

  Mrs. Monday said, “Oh, get out of here. Hurry up. I’m trying to think.”

  Marybelle went out and stood around in the parlor watching Nancy and Plum wash the windows. She said, “There’s a streak there. Look, that one’s not clean. You’re not getting the corners. You’ll never finish by supper time.”

  Until Plum, irritated beyond endurance, said, “Oh, pardon me, honey,” and splashed about a cupful of the ammonia water on Marybelle’s head. It smelled and stung her eyes and Marybelle began to bawl, “You did that on purpose, Plum Remson. I’m going to tell.”

  Plum said, “Oh, Marybelle, I’m so sorry. Run out to the kitchen and wash your face with warm water.”

  Marybelle said, “I’m going to tell,” and ran back into the sitting room.

  She had just begun, “Aunty Marybelle, Plum …” when her Aunty Marybelle grabbed her by the shoulders and thrust her out of the room, saying, “I’m tired of your sniveling and tattling. Now go out and help the other children.”

  Plum, who had gone to the kitchen for clean cloths, heard her and was so delighted that she threw her sponge up in the air and it splatted against the ceiling and left a big round spot like a sun with rays coming out from it. Nancy said, “Mrs. Monday is certainly in a terrible temper. No matter how well we do the windows I’ll bet she’ll say they look streaky and take our supper away.”

  Plum said, “What do we care? Now that you can climb down the tree, we can go out and drink warm milk. I like it better than scorched oatmeal or beans with rocks in them, anyway.”

  Nancy said, “I wonder if grown people always have the joy taken out of things the way children do. I mean, I wonder if when you’re grown up and you’re going to do something that’s going to be a lot of fun like a picnic, if you have to be reminded of it over and over and over, or if you have to do extra work to earn it or if after it is over you have to be told every day that you have had your fun for that month.”

  Plum said, “Well, the grown people I know aren’t nearly as happy as chi
ldren, so I guess it must be worse after you grow up.”

  Nancy said, “I certainly hope that tree costume will cover my worn-out shoes.”

  Plum said, “Why don’t you take off your shoes and then your brown socks will look just like part of your costume?”

  Nancy said, “That is a good idea and not wearing shoes will make the costume longer, too.”

  Plum said, “I don’t know what I’m going to do about my shoes. The holes in the soles are so big they won’t even hold paper any more. It’s just like going barefoot and you know how slivery the platform is.”

  Nancy said, “Oh, well, Plum, it’s like you said. People don’t care how good spellers are dressed, how worn out their shoes are.”

  Plum said, “Well, with my shoes and the way I look the words are going to have to be awfully hard.”

  Nancy said, “I’ll bet old Marybelle has a new dress and brand new party shoes.”

  Plum said, “I bet she does, too, and I hope she misses the very first word.”

  Nancy said, “Now, my side’s all finished. Do they look awfully streaky?”

  Plum said, “No, they look as clear and sparkly as raindrops. How do mine look?”

  Nancy said, “Well, there are a few cloudy places. Here, I’ll help you. Hand me that clean cloth.”

  Nancy was just wiping off the last streak on Plum’s side when Mrs. Monday came in to inspect the windows and announce supper. The girls could tell the kind of a mood she was in because her eyes were so pale they were almost white, her mouth was so tight her lips had disappeared completely and her nostrils were quivering. Without a word she stalked around the long room and examined the windows. Then she noticed the spot on the ceiling.

  She said, “How did that spot get up there?”

  Plum said, “I dropped my sponge.”

  Mrs. Monday said, “You dropped your sponge up in the air?”

  Plum said, “Well, it slipped out of my hand and flew up there.”

  Mrs. Monday said, “That was deliberate carelessness on your part, Pamela. You may go to your room. You will not have any supper.”

  Nancy said, “Don’t the windows look nice, Mrs. Monday?”

  Mrs. Monday said, “They certainly do not. The outsides are all spotty.”

  Nancy said, “You didn’t tell us to wash the outside. You said to do the inside today and the outside tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Monday said, “I did no such thing. I told you to wash the parlor windows after school today.”

  Nancy said, “But, Mrs. Monday, we always do the inside one day and the outside the next day. Anyway, we couldn’t do the outside, too, before supper. We only just finished the inside.”

  Mrs. Monday said, “Well, then perhaps you had better not have any supper. Perhaps you had better wash the outside of the windows, as you were told to do, while the other children are eating their supper.”

  Nancy said, “You’re very unfair, Mrs. Monday. You’re unkind and unfair.”

  Mrs. Monday shouted. “NANCY REMSON, BE QUIET!” And Nancy was so frightened that she was.

  Old Tom helped Nancy move the stepladder around to the different windows and as he moved it she told him about Mrs. Monday’s unfairness. He said, “She’s a woman who will not tolerate being crossed. She’ll do anything to get her own way. Anything.”

  While the other children were having their supper, Tom brought Nancy a fruit jar of warm milk and told her that Plum was in the barn playing with the kittens. He said, “Plum feels awful bad because she isn’t helping you but she’s afraid to let Mrs. Monday know that she’s out.”

  Nancy said, “Tell her not to worry. I can stand anything now that I know I’m going to be in the program and am going to the picnic.”

  And for the next four days Mrs. Monday certainly put her to the test. Plum, too, of course.

  Every morning, on each child’s door was tacked a list of their daily duties. On Nancy and Plum’s door the list was so long and contained so many extra duties that in order to accomplish them they had to get up at dawn and work until almost midnight.

  Mrs. Monday ordered them to clean out the attic and scrub the splintery floor; clean up the basement, even the coalbin and scrub the floor; clean and sweep out a spidery, dark, dusty toolshed; clean out and sweep the woodshed; wash all the dishes from every meal; cut the lawns; trim the hedges and weed the garden. She took away all their meals but the lunch they had at school and every morning she sent them on so many errands they almost missed the school bus.

  Thursday afternoon, as they got off the bus, Nancy said, “I’m so tired I don’t even care about the program and the picnic tomorrow.”

  Plum said, “I’m so tired I can’t even remember how to spell cat. How can anybody be as cruel and hateful as Mrs. Monday?”

  Nancy said, “I wonder what hard, dirty, tiresome, awful job she will have for us this afternoon.”

  Plum said, “Probably make us clean out the chimneys or wash off the roofs with our tongues.”

  Slowly, wearily they went up the front steps and into the front hall as Mrs. Monday came out of her sitting room. To their astonishment she was smiling and to their further astonishment she said, “No extra work this afternoon, girls. Just go up to your room and rest. You are going to have a big day tomorrow and you’ll need your strength.”

  Plum and Nancy just stood and stared. So Mrs. Monday took each of them by a thin, bony little shoulder and gave them a playful little push toward the stairs, saying, “Go on, girls, go up and rest. Don’t just stand there staring.”

  A few minutes later, as they lay stretched out exhausted on their bed, Nancy said, “I can’t believe it. She said for us to rest—not to weed the lawn or sweep out the barn or chop a cord of wood, but to rest.”

  Plum said, “She must be going to kill us and she wants us to look nice in our coffins.”

  Nancy said, “Or, maybe she’s sorry she’s been so horrible.”

  Plum said, “If you’re as horrible as Mrs. Monday, you don’t even know you’re horrible. Anyway, she doesn’t act sorry. She acts glad about something.”

  Nancy said, “Well, I don’t care why she’s being nice. I’m just glad she is.”

  Plum said, “I do. I want to know what’s going on but I’m too tired to sneak around and find out.”

  It’s just as well that Plum did rest because no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t have found out the reason for the change in Mrs. Monday. Nobody knew but Mrs. Monday and she felt just like a cat that has finally caught two very annoying little mice. You see, that day while the children were at school, Uncle John had telephoned.

  He had said, “Mrs. Monday, I just received a letter from my niece Nancy. A most upsetting letter. She tells me that she and Pamela are to be in a program at school and they need new shoes and new dresses. She also tells me that she has written me several times before but guesses that I have been too busy to answer. What I want to know, Mrs. Monday, is what has happened to all the money I have given you for new clothes for the girls and why haven’t I received Nancy’s other letters?”

  As she listened to Uncle John, Mrs. Monday’s eyes flashed, little bubbles of spit formed in the corners of her mouth and her face turned from ashen to raspberry color and finally to navy blue. She was more furiously angry than she had ever been in her life. However, Mrs. Monday was not one to let anything stand in her way, even anger, so with a great and visible effort she composed herself, smiled her mirthless smile and turned her face back to its normal greenish olive hue. Her voice was perfectly controlled when she spoke to Uncle John. She said, “Now, my dear, dear Mr. Remson, I wouldn’t be upset if I were you. You know how little girls are. I saw the letter that Nancy wrote to you but I let her mail it because I hoped that a man of your intelligence and experience would realize that it was just one of those foolish, childish outbursts of Nancy’s that I have tried so hard to teach her to control. Of course, the girls have beautiful clothes, Mr. Remson. You have always given me plenty of money to buy them everyt
hing they need but, as much as I hate to have to say this, some children are never satisfied. You can buy some children everything in the world, a new dress every day, and still they want more. I have tried again and again to explain to Nancy and Pamela that having more than the other children is liable to cause hard feelings. But nothing seems to affect them, so I let Nancy write to you and try and wheedle you into giving in to them. Now, I’m terribly sorry that I didn’t handle the situation right here. It was very thoughtless of me. But really, Mr. Remson, I deal with children so much that I suppose I expect everyone to react to them the way I do. To laugh at their childish greediness and vanity. Again I say I am very, very sorry that this happened.”

  Uncle John said, “Well, I suppose I was silly to get upset, but this is the first letter I have ever had from Nancy. What do you suppose happened to the others she wrote me?”

  Mrs. Monday said, “Probably forgot to mail them, or was careless about the address. You know how children are.”

  Uncle John said, “Well, anyway I think I’ll come out and see the children. They must be getting pretty big now, probably almost ready for boarding school.”

  Mrs. Monday said quickly, “Oh, Mr. Remson, not boarding school! Nancy and Pamela are still babies and will need a mother’s understanding and care for a long time yet.”

  Uncle John said, “Well, I’ll see. When would be the best time to come out and talk to the girls?”

  Mrs. Monday said, “Come Friday, Mr. Remson. It is the last day of school and the children will be home early.”

  Uncle John said, “Very well. Friday afternoon about four-thirty.”

  Mrs. Monday said, “Splendid. I’ll be looking forward to it and I know how delighted Nancy and Pamela will be.”

  She hung up the phone and picked up her needlepoint and no hawk that had just finished eating two baby chickens ever looked more satisfied.