When they came to town they stopped for Cassie and Christy. Cassie and Christy had never been to a party, either. They all went timidly into Mr. Oleson’s store, and Mr. Oleson told them, “Go right on in!”
So they went past the candy and pickles and plows, to the back door of the store. It opened, and there stood Nellie all dressed up, and Mrs. Oleson asking them in.
Laura had never seen such a fine room. She could hardly say “Good afternoon, Mrs. Oleson,” and “Yes, ma’am,” and “No, ma’am.”
The whole floor was covered with some kind of heavy cloth that felt rough under Laura’s bare feet. It was brown and green, with red and yellow scrolls all over it. The walls and the ceiling were narrow, smooth boards fitted together with a crease between them. The table and chairs were of a yellow wood that shone like glass, and their legs were perfectly round. There were colored pictures on the walls.
“Go into the bedroom, girls, and leave your bonnets,” Mrs. Oleson said in a company voice.
The bedstead was shiny wood, too. There were two other pieces of furniture. One was made of drawers on top of each other, with two little drawers sitting on its top, and two curved pieces of wood went up and held a big looking-glass between them. On top of the other stood a china pitcher in a big china bowl, and a small china dish with a piece of soap on it.
There were glass windows in both rooms, and the curtains of those windows were white lace.
Behind the front room was a big lean-to with a cookstove in it, like Ma’s new one, and all kinds of tin pots and pans hanging on the walls.
All the girls were there now, and Mrs. Oleson’s skirts went rustling among them. Laura wanted to be still and look at things, but Mrs. Oleson said, “Now, Nellie, bring out your playthings.”
“They can play with Willie’s playthings,” Nellie said.
“They can’t ride on my velocipede!” Willie shouted.
“Well, they can play with your Noah’s ark and your soldiers,” said Nellie, and Mrs. Oleson made Willie be quiet.
The Noah’s ark was the most wonderful thing that Laura had ever seen. They all knelt down and squealed and laughed over it. There were zebras and elephants and tigers and horses; all kinds of animals, just as if the picture had come out of the paper-covered Bible at home.
And there were two whole armies of tin soldiers, with uniforms painted bright blue and bright red.
There was a jumping-jack. He was cut out of thin, flat wood; striped paper trousers and jacket were pasted on him, and his face was painted white with red cheeks and circles around his eyes, and his tall cap was pointed. He hung between two thin red strips of wood, and when you squeezed them he danced. His hands held on to twisted strings. He would turn a somersault over the strings; he would stand on his head with his toe on his nose.
Even the big girls were chattering and squealing over those animals and those soldiers, and they laughed at the jumping-jack till they cried.
Then Nellie walked among them, saying, “You can look at my doll.”
The doll had a china head, with smooth red cheeks and red mouth. Her eyes were black and her china hair was black and waved. Her wee hands were china, and her feet were tiny china feet in black china shoes.
“Oh!” Laura said. “Oh, what a beautiful doll! Oh, Nellie, what is her name?”
“She’s nothing but an old doll,” Nellie said. “I don’t care about this old doll. You wait till you see my wax doll.”
She threw the china doll in a drawer, and she took out a long box. She put the box on the bed and took off its lid. All the girls leaned around her to look.
There lay a doll that seemed to be alive. Real golden hair lay in soft curls on her little pillow. Her lips were parted, showing two tiny white teeth. Her eyes were closed. The doll was sleeping there in the box.
Nellie lifted her up, and her eyes opened wide. They were big blue eyes. She seemed to laugh. Her arms stretched out and she said, “Mamma!”
“She does that when I squeeze her stomach,” Nellie said. “Look!” She punched the doll’s stomach hard with her fist, and the poor doll cried out, “Mamma!”
She was dressed in blue silk. Her petticoats were real petticoats trimmed with ruffles and lace, and her panties were real little panties that would come off. On her feet were real little blue leather slippers.
All this time Laura had not said a word. She couldn’t. She did not think of actually touching that marvelous doll, but without meaning to, her finger reached out toward the blue silk.
“Don’t you touch her!” Nellie screeched. “You keep your hands off my doll, Laura Ingalls!” She snatched the doll against her and turned her back so Laura could not see her putting her back in the box.
Laura’s face burned hot and the other girls did not know what to do. Laura went and sat on a chair. The others watched Nellie put the box in a drawer and shut it. Then they looked at the animals and the soldiers again and squeezed the jumping-jack.
Mrs. Oleson came in and asked Laura why she was not playing. Laura said, “I would rather sit here, thank you, ma’am.”
“Would you like to look at these?” Mrs. Oleson asked her, and she laid two books in Laura’s lap.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Laura said.
She turned the pages of the books carefully. One was not exactly a book; it was thin and it had no covers. It was a little magazine, all for children. The other was a book with a thick, glossy cover, and on the cover was a picture of an old woman wearing a peaked cap and riding on a broom across a huge yellow moon. Over her head large letters said,
Laura had not known there were such wonderful books in the world. On every page of that book there was a picture and a rhyme. Laura could read some of them. She forgot all about the party.
Suddenly Mrs. Oleson was saying: “Come, little girl. You mustn’t let the others eat all the cake, must you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Laura said. “No, ma’am.”
A glossy white cloth covered the table. On it was a beautiful sugar-white cake and tall glasses.
“I got the biggest piece!” Nellie shouted, grabbing a big piece out of that cake. The others sat waiting till Mrs. Oleson gave them their pieces. She put each piece on a china plate.
“Is your lemonade sweet enough?” Mrs. Oleson asked. So Laura knew that it was lemonade in the glasses. She had never tasted anything like it. At first it was sweet, but after she ate a bit of the sugar-white off her piece of cake, the lemonade was sour. But they all answered Mrs. Oleson politely, “Yes, thank you, ma’am.”
They were careful not to let a crumb of cake fall on the tablecloth. They did not spill one drop of lemonade.
Then it was time to go home, and Laura remembered to say, as Ma had told them to: “Thank you, Mrs. Oleson. I had a very good time at the party.” So did all the others.
When they were out of the store, Christy said to Laura, “I wish you’d slapped that mean Nellie Oleson.”
“Oh no! I couldn’t!” Laura said. “But I’m going to get even with her. Sh! Don’t let Mary know I said that.”
Jack was waiting lonesome at the ford. It was Saturday, and Laura had not played with him. It would be a whole week before they would have another day of playing along Plum Creek.
They told Ma all about the party, and she said, “We must not accept hospitality without making some return. I’ve been thinking about it, girls, and you must ask Nellie Oleson and the others to a party here. I think a week from Saturday.”
Chapter 23
Country Party
Will you come to my party?” Laura asked Christy and Maud and Nellie Oleson. Mary asked the big girls. They all said they would come.
That Saturday morning the new house was specially pretty. Jack could not come in on the scrubbed floors. The windows were shining and the pink-edged curtains were freshly crisp and white. Laura and Mary made new starry papers for the shelves, and Ma made vanity cakes.
She made them with beaten eggs and white flour. She dropped them into a kettl
e of sizzling fat. Each one came up bobbing, and floated till it turned itself over, lifting up its honey-brown, puffy bottom. Then it swelled underneath till it was round, and Ma lifted it out with a fork.
She put every one of those cakes in the cupboard. They were for the party.
Laura and Mary and Ma and Carrie were dressed up and waiting when the guests came walking out from town. Laura had even brushed Jack though he was always clean and handsome in his white and brown-spotted short fur.
He ran down with Laura to the ford. The girls came laughing and splashing through the sunny water, all except Nellie. She had to take off her shoes and stockings and she complained that the gravel hurt her feet. She said: “I don’t go bare-footed. I have shoes and stockings.”
She was wearing a new dress and big, new hair-ribbon bows.
“Is that Jack?” Christy asked, and they all patted him and said what a good dog he was. But when he politely wagged to Nellie, she said: “Go away! Don’t you touch my dress!”
“Jack wouldn’t touch your dress,” Laura said.
They went up the path between the blowing grasses and wild flowers, to the house where Ma was waiting. Mary told her the girls’ names one by one, and she smiled her lovely smile and spoke to them. But Nellie smoothed down her new pretty dress and said to Ma:
“Of course I didn’t wear my best dress to just a country party.”
Then Laura didn’t care what Ma had taught her; she didn’t care if Pa punished her. She was going to get even with Nellie for that. Nellie couldn’t speak that way to Ma.
Ma only smiled and said: “It’s a very pretty dress, Nellie. We’re glad you could come.” But Laura was not going to forgive Nellie.
The girls liked the pretty house. It was so clean and airy, with sweet-smelling breezes blowing through it and the grassy prairies all around. They climbed the ladder and looked at Laura’s and Mary’s very own attic; none of them had anything like that. But Nellie asked, “Where are your dolls?”
Laura was not going to show her darling rag Charlotte to Nellie Oleson. She said: “I don’t play with dolls. I play in the creek.”
Then they went outdoors with Jack. Laura showed them the little chicks by the haystacks, and they looked at the green garden rows and the thick-growing wheat-field. They ran down the knoll to the low bank of Plum Creek. There was the willow and footbridge, and the water coming out of the plum thicket’s shade, running wide and shallow over sparkling pebbles and gurgling under the bridge to the knee-deep pool.
Mary and the big girls came down slowly, bringing Carrie to play with. But Laura and Christy and Maud and Nellie held their skirts up above their knees and went wading into the cool, flowing water. Away through the shallows the minnows went swimming in crowds away from the shouts and splashing.
The big girls took Carrie wading where the water sparkled thin in the sunshine, and gathered pretty pebbles along the creek’s edge. The little girls played tag across the footbridge. They ran on the warm grass, and played in the water again. And while they were playing, Laura suddenly thought of what she could do to Nellie.
She led the girls wading near the old crab’s home. The noise and splashing had driven him under his rock. She saw his angry claws and browny-green head peeping out, and she crowded Nellie near him. Then she kicked a big splash of water onto his rock and she screamed:
“Oo, Nellie! Nellie, look out!”
The old crab rushed at Nellie’s toes, snapping his claws to nip them.
“Run! Run!” Laura screamed, pushing Christy and Maud back toward the bridge, and then she ran after Nellie. Nellie ran screaming straight into the muddy water under the plum thicket. Laura stopped on the gravel and looked back at the crab’s rock.
“Wait, Nellie,” she said. “You stay there.”
“Oh, what was it? What was it? Is he coming?” Nellie asked. She had dropped her dress, and her skirt and petticoats were in the muddy water.
“It’s an old crab,” Laura told her. “He cuts big sticks in two with his claws. He could cut our toes right off.”
“Oh, where is he? Is he coming?” Nellie asked.
“You stay there and I’ll look,” said Laura, and she went wading slowly and stopping and looking. The old crab was under his rock again, but Laura did not say so. She waded very slowly all the way to the bridge, while Nellie watched from the plum thicket. Then she waded back and said, “You can come out now.”
Nellie came out into the clean water. She said she didn’t like that horrid old creek and wasn’t going to play any more. She tried to wash her muddy skirt and then she tried to wash her feet, and then she screamed.
Muddy-brown bloodsuckers were sticking to her legs and her feet. She couldn’t wash them off. She tried to pick one off, and then she ran screaming up on the creek bank. There she stood kicking as hard as she could, first one foot and then the other, screaming all the time.
Laura laughed till she fell on the grass and rolled. “Oh, look, look!” she shouted, laughing. “See Nellie dance!”
All the girls came running. Mary told Laura to pick those bloodsuckers off Nellie, but Laura didn’t listen. She kept on rolling and laughing.
“Laura!” Mary said. “You get up and pull those things off, or I’ll tell Ma.”
Then Laura began to pull the bloodsuckers off Nellie. All the girls watched and screamed while she pulled them out long, and longer, and longer. Nellie cried: “I don’t like your party!” she said. “I want to go home!”
Ma came hurrying down to the creek to see why they were screaming. She told Nellie not to cry, a few leeches were nothing to cry about. She said it was time now for them all to come to the house.
The table was set prettily with Ma’s best white cloth and the blue pitcher full of flowers. The benches were drawn up on either side of it. Shiny tin cups were full of cold, creamy milk from the cellar, and the big platter was heaped with honey-colored vanity cakes.
The cakes were not sweet, but they were rich and crisp, and hollow inside. Each one was like a great bubble. The crisp bits of it melted on the tongue.
They ate and ate of those vanity cakes. They said they had never tasted anything so good, and they asked Ma what they were.
“Vanity cakes,” said Ma. “Because they are all puffed up, like vanity, with nothing solid inside.”
There were so many vanity cakes that they ate till they could eat no more, and they drank all the sweet, cold milk they could hold. Then the party was over. All the girls but Nellie said thank you for the party. Nellie was still mad.
Laura did not care. Christy squeezed her and said in her ear, “I never had such a good time! And it just served Nellie right!”
Deep down inside her Laura felt satisfied when she thought of Nellie dancing on the creek bank.
Chapter 24
Going To Church
It was Saturday night and Pa sat on the doorstep, smoking his after-supper pipe. Laura and Mary sat close on either side of him. Ma, with Carrie on her lap, rocked gently to and fro, just inside the doorway.
The winds were still. The stars hung low and bright. The dark sky was deep beyond the stars, and Plum Creek talked softly to itself.
“They told me in town this afternoon that there will be preaching in the new church tomorrow,” said Pa. “I met the home missionary, Reverend Alden, and he wanted us to be sure to come. I told him we would.”
“Oh, Charles,” Ma exclaimed, “we haven’t been to church for so long!”
Laura and Mary had never seen a church. But they knew from Ma’s voice that going to church must be better than a party. After a while Ma said, “I am so glad I finished my new dress.”
“You will look sweet as a posy in it,” Pa told her. “We must start early.”
Next morning was a hurry. Breakfast was a hurry, work was a hurry, and Ma hurried about dressing herself and Carrie. She called up the ladder in a hurrying voice: “Come on down, girls. I’ll tie your ribbons.”
They hurried down. Then they stood an
d stared at Ma. She was perfectly beautiful in her new dress. It was black-and-white calico, a narrow stripe of white, then a wider stripe of black lines and white lines no wider than threads. Up the front it was buttoned with black buttons. And the skirt was pulled back and lifted up to puffs and shirrings behind.
Crocheted lace edged the little stand-up collar. Crocheted lace spread out in a bow on Ma’s breast, and the gold breast-pin held the collar and the bow. Ma’s face was lovely. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright.
She turned Laura and Mary around and quickly tied the ribbons on their braids. Then she took Carrie’s hand. They all went out on the doorstep and Ma locked the door.
Carrie looked like one of the little angel-birds in the Bible. Her dress and her tiny sunbonnet were white and all trimmed with lace. Her eyes were big and solemn; her golden curls hung by her cheeks and peeped from under the bonnet behind.
Then Laura saw her own pink ribbons on Mary’s braids. She clapped her hand over her mouth before a word came out. She scrooged and looked down her own back. Mary’s blue ribbons were on her braids!
She and Mary looked at each other and did not say a word. Ma, in her hurry, had made a mistake. They hoped she would not notice. Laura was so tired of pink and Mary was so tired of blue. But Mary had to wear blue because her hair was golden and Laura had to wear pink because her hair was brown.
Pa came driving the wagon from the stable. He had brushed Sam and David till they shone in the morning sunshine. They stepped proudly, tossing their heads, and their manes and tails rippled.
There was a clean blanket on the wagon seat and another spread on the bottom of the wagon box. Pa carefully helped Ma climb up over the wheel. He lifted Carrie to Ma’s lap. Then he tossed Laura into the wagon box, and her braids flew out.
“Oh dear!” Ma exclaimed. “I put the wrong ribbons on Laura’s hair!”
“It’ll never be noticed on a trotting horse!” said Pa. So Laura knew she could wear the blue ribbons.
On the Banks of Plum Creek Page 9