Six Girls and Bob: A Story of Patty-Pans and Green Fields

by Marion Ames Taggart

  CHAPTER XI

  HAPPIE'S CHOICE

  WHEN she left the room Happie knew that her decision was already made;she had run away only to gain strength to announce it.

  She closed the door behind her, tossed her bag and hat on the bed, anddropped into the willow rocking-chair by the window that looked towardsthe east and the mountains. Polly's big doll had to be dispossessed forher benefit, so Happie considerately took her bisque niece on her knee,in fair exchange for Phyllis Lovelock's seat, which she usurped.

  "Margery wants to go," announced Happie, absentmindedly rearranging thedoll's hair. "She thought at first that it was she who was to go, andwhen mother went on to say that I was Auntie Cam's first choice, shehad to walk away to the window 'to hide her grief,' as novels say. Shedidn't hide it so very well; I saw that tear fall on the window sill!Of course I shan't go; that's settled." She pointed this announcementby a vigorous jerk of Phyllis' arm which sent it upward, giving thedoll the effect of appealing to heaven to demand if this were not hard.

  "No one will ever know how much I wanted to go--not if I can help it!Elsie and Edith both there, and boating, and bathing, and dancing--oh,me! Margery hasn't a friend there, but then the rest will be good forher; she looks tired all the time, and of course she'll find nice girlswhom she will like--Margery makes friends. She doesn't like livinghere, and I do--or at least I think I do when there isn't any chance toget away. No; that isn't honest: I do like it, very much! Didn't I tellGretta this very afternoon that I was glad to stay here? She said shewouldn't like to give me a chance to get away. And there was the chancein my hand that very moment, and I did jump at it wildly the instant Iheard of it! Gretta saw clearer than I did! Poor Gretta! What a meanthing I am to fly off and forget all about her the first time I amtempted--but this was a fearful temptation, Edith and Elsie and all!"She pushed down Phyllis' upraised arm, and stood her upright with onefoot on her knee, the other at right angles to the doll's body as ithad been bent in sitting.

  "You look rakish, my dear," remarked mercurial Happie, straighteningthe misplaced member and smoothing her niece's gown. "Or are youhinting that I should not kick? I'm not kicking, miss, in the firstplace, and in the second place you should not use slang. Margeryis older than I, and fonder of society; she isn't as happy as I amhere--that is not intended as a pun on my name, Phyllis--and she hasbeen so sweet and patient that she richly deserves her luck. I don'tgrudge it to her, not one bit, and I wouldn't go--now that I've hadtime to think about it--not for anything! I couldn't enjoy one momentremembering I was there at Margery's cost. But I think, Miss PhyllisLovelocks, that you might allow me one little natural pang, all byourselves, because I'd have had fun without end all the time I wasaway. You might admit--since no one hears us--that dusting, bed-making,dish-washing palls on one occasionally, and even weeding a garden ona hot day is not pure bliss. I don't suppose there was a weed in theGarden of Eden, and anyway Eve's back didn't ache; it's only sinfulbacks that ache." Happie laughed again and wiped away a few tears thatstill betrayed her.

  Then she arose, depositing Phyllis Lovelocks once more in her place inthe rocking-chair. She stood for a moment looking out seriously on themountains. Then she sighed, smiled and turned away.

  "I really do love you, and I think I should miss you and be glad toget back to you. But it's lucky you're so big, because you've got totake the place of a big chance," she said, turning away as she heardher mother come up-stairs and go into her room across the narrow hall.Happie threw open her door and ran after her, hoping that there were notelltale stains on her cheeks.

  "Mother, mama, motherums," she cried. "Let me come; I want to tell you.I'm not going."

  Mrs. Scollard turned quickly and threw her arms around her girl with amovement entirely girlish. "You dear Happie!" she cried. "I knew youwouldn't, and I know why! You should have done precisely as you chose,my darling, but I really think that Margery ought to go, and needs thepleasure more than you. Margery is drifting in young ladyhood, whileHappie, I am thankful to say, is unadulterated girlishness still."

  "Of course she's the one to go, motherums; she's ever so much lonelierhere than I am," said Happie staunchly. "You see when I flew up sorapturously, I hadn't had time for second thought."

  "Proverbially the best," supplemented her mother. "I am very glad thatyou reconsidered, Happie, but I'd like you to understand that I seeclearly through your transparent little self, and realize what you aredoing for Margery."

  Happie blushed and turned away. "Oh, I want to stay," she said lightly.

  "Of course you do," assented her mother. "There are many differentways of wanting a thing, my Hapsie. But I'll tell you in strictestconfidence that I am selfishly glad that I am to keep you. I don't seereally, how we could have borne up if Auntie Cam had carried off theArk's sunshine."

  Happie turned back to give her mother an emphatic and hasty kiss beforeshe escaped; she was still perilously near to tears. Her mother's wordshad robbed her sacrifice of all sting, as Mrs. Scollard knew that theywould, for Happie dearly loved to be a comfort.

  Margery received the decision that Happie was to stay and she to gowith a solemn rapture, too deep for words. The next few days were givenup to hurried preparations for her departure. The invitation had comeon Wednesday, and Mrs. Charleford, whom the young Scollards had knownall their lives as Auntie Cam, had arranged that her guest was to cometo her on Monday.

  It was short notice and rapid work; the Ark was submerged in the watersof confusion. Still, as Rosie Gruber sensibly observed: "There wasn'tno use in worrying. What Margery had she had, and what she hadn't shehadn't, so what good did it do to git all dragged out fussin' overthings yet?"

  That good and efficient person ironed at night and arose an hourearlier than her four o'clock routine to lend her useful hands topreparing Margery's wardrobe.

  "Fortunately you are still a young girl, dearie," said her motherfolding the soft mull which Rosie had pressed. "You are still in theclass which the fashion catalogues call: Misses. In another year youwill be old enough to require more if you go into the great world, butsimplicity is fitting and fairest for a young girl. This is your lastyear of slipping into the throng unheralded, Margery; make the most ofits advantages, dearie. I really think you are sufficiently provided,without being obliged to add: 'Considering.' Your last year's gowns areso refreshed that I am satisfied with your little wardrobe, at leastfor this season, while you are still little Margery."

  The mother's voice was wistful. Margery was so sweet and gentle thather gentle mother clung to her passing hours of young girlhood,shrinking from the thought of life and its burdens which stood just onher threshold, stretching out siren hands to her eldest born.

  Miss Bradbury came into the room with six handkerchiefs in one hand.

  "This is my contribution to your outfit, Margaret," she said. "Daintyhandkerchiefs and good shoes are my weakness. Don't shed a tear on oneof these; that's all I ask."

  Margery thanked her with her gentle smile. She did not know untillater, when she shook the first of the pile out of its folds, that MissKeren had laid two crisp ten dollar bills between them, guessing thatMrs. Scollard's slender store was too depleted to allow her to give thegirl much money to use as young girls like to use it, for the candy andsoda, and the small luxuries of the toilet dear to seventeen.

  "You've been a perfect darling, Happie; a dear, unselfish, blessedold darling, all the way through!" cried Margery throwing her armsaround her sister, although in one hand dangled four belts, and theother clutched a bunch of turnover collars. Happie had just broughtMargery her two stick pins, and delicate neckchain of fine gold links,holding turquoises set in dull gold.

  "That's all right, Margery; you mean well, but your remarks are atrifle unjust to me. I am all of those things you mention, all of thetime, yet you seem to be a trifle surprised. It would give a strangera false idea of me, Margery; I am obliged to protest against yourinjustice," cried Happie with
a mock frown.

  "Isn't she nice?" exclaimed Polly from her vantage point at the foot ofthe bed where she was ensconced with her doll, watching the packing.

  "I hope you will enjoy the orchestras and the music in the hotels,Margery," said Laura with an air that suggested its being extremelyunlikely. "It's dreadful to never hear any music; there isn't a bit inCrestville."

  "It's dreadful to split infinitives, Laura," said Bob, enteringunexpectedly. "What's the wail about now? Still poor old Crestville?Besides, you're wrong about the music; I know of several melodeonsin town. Ralph and I are going to the store; want anything from theemporium?"

  "Yes, and two or three of the girls taking lessons by correspondenceyet!" exclaimed Rosie indignantly from the depths of a Gladstone bagwhich she was sweeping clean of imaginary dust. "We're not so dumb hereas Laura thinks. Don't you fergit my blueing, Bob, and I guess youmight as well bring along some flour; ours is almost all, and I've gotto bake to-morrow, with biscuits for tea Sunday--Miss Bradbury likes'em so!"

  "Yes, and the rest like 'em more so," assented Bob. "Flour and blueing,mix carefully and take regularly to depress your spirits. All right,Rosie. 'Bye, mother." And Bob departed, leaving Rosie's gaunt shouldersshaking over his exquisite wit.

  Monday morning came very quickly. The entire family dreaded the threemonths which should be spent without Margery, and to no one else inall the world than her girlhood friend did Mrs. Scollard feel thatshe could have borne to intrust her pretty daughter. She tasted inimagination the loneliness and motherly anxiety which she must feelbefore she got her back again.

  Laura reveled in the opportunity for sentimental melancholy, composinga song entitled "Parting," according to her custom on all family events.

  Happie found it hard to see Margery depart; her desire for the outingwas swallowed up in the realization that for the first time in theirlives she and Margery were to be separated.

  The group of stay-at-homes gave Margery many last injunctions as towhat she should do on arriving in the Jersey station at which Mrs.Charleford was to meet her, and they watched her skirt around thecorner of the car door, and waved their good-byes to her from theplatform, where they gathered to wave at her in the car window, untilthe train was lost to sight around the curve.

  Then, true to their principles, Bob and Happie shook off theirdepression and bestirred themselves.

  "Got to haul hay to-day," drawled Bob, in accurate mimicry of JakeShale's twang. "If you want to git that there hay in, Miss Bradbury,you'd might as well come along, fer they hain't much time these Junedays, 'n' the sun's hot."

  "I was taught there was more time in June days than in any others, Mr.Shale," said Miss Bradbury, while his mother laughed in response toBob's effort to cheer her. "However, I'm ready to go home if you'reready to drive me."

  Happie and Laura walked home from the village, and Laura hummed herlatest song, "Parting," as they walked, such a dismal air that Happiewas not equal to sustained conversation to such an accompaniment.

  At the Neumann gate Happie paused. "I see Gretta out there hanging upher clothes," she said. "I'm going to ask her if she can't steal offthis afternoon when we are haying. We'll make a jollification of it.You can go on, Laura; I'll come in a few minutes; no one would darelinger at the Neumanns' on a Monday morning."

  Happie ran over the grass and seized Gretta's shoulders, herselfunseen. Gretta screamed and then hailed Happie joyfully.

  "My, but you scared me!" she cried. "Margery gone?"

  Happie nodded. "And I want you to come up this afternoon and get in haywith us--we want to make it a frolic, and beside, you really do knowhow to load a wagon as well as any farmer, so Rosie says. But it's notfor work I want you; you know that. Come over, Gretta, and help us bemerry, for I'm afraid we miss Margery."

  "I guess," assented Gretta. "I'll come, if I can get my clothes in, andfolded to iron in the morning. And now Margery's gone I want to tellyou that I know how you stayed here and let her go in your place--RosieGruber told us. You said you'd stay here, even if you got a chance togo, but I couldn't believe it. Still, I know how bad you wanted to go,so I guess I was half way right, after all. Never mind," she addedhastily, as Happie showed symptoms of interrupting her. "That's allright; I don't blame you. All I wanted to try and tell you was that Iguess you haven't an idea of how glad I am you stayed. I don't seemto know how to say it, so I haven't let you know how much good you'redoing me. If it's any comfort to you, you can be sure of one thing--I'dhave been miserable if you'd gone. I didn't know the difference youwere making, not rightly know it, till I heard from Rosie that I mighthave lost you. It took my breath away. You like to make folks happy, sodon't be sorry you let Margery go, Happie dear."

  Happie had never before heard a speech of one third this lengthfrom Gretta; she saw that the girl was trying to break through herreticence to comfort her for the regret which she fancied Happie mustfeel.

  "Why, you dear Gretta!" she cried. "I do know you need me, and I do seeyou're happier and more girlish since I found you--found you in thepaint pot, like 'the little husband no bigger than my thumb' of MotherGoose fame. You are quite, quite wrong if you think I am sorry thatI could not go instead of Margery. At first I did want to go; that'strue, not because I don't like Crestville, but because any girl wouldjump at such a chance as that--at first. But I'm delighted that it'sMargery and not I, who is on the train, and I'm glad for my own sake,not for hers alone. So be satisfied that I am satisfied, and come overto help us be happy in this lovely country life."

  "I'll come--unless I can't," said Gretta, and Happie ran homeward afterLaura.

  By three o'clock Gretta's fresh starched pink sunbonnet appeared downthe road, bobbing up and down under the trees. The Scollards were allout in the field with Ralph, all save Happie, who had come in to watchfor Gretta and to take her out with her. But Gretta did not seem toknow that she was shy; her foot was on her native heath, she carriedher own pitchfork, and in hay-making it was not she, but the citychildren who were at a disadvantage.

  "You'd better let me load," she said, nodding at Peter Kuntz who hadtaken Jake Shale's place that afternoon. It always surprised theinmates of the Ark that there was, apparently, no inequality of age inCrestville. Everybody knew everybody else with the intimacy of firstnames and identical ages, even if one were eight and the other eighty.

  "Glad to git you to load, Gretta," responded Pete heartily. And Grettaswung herself up on the back of the hay wagon, taking her stand on thethin layer of hay already scattered over its floor, resting on herpitchfork like a youthful Bellona.

  "Now, Laura, you and Polly get out with Penny, and leave--let--Happieand Ralph help me load. Bob will help Pete toss, and when we've loaded,you can all get up and ride in. We might stick somebody with the forkif there were too many on while we were loading," said Gretta, takingcommand of the work in the wagon like the experienced young farmer thatshe was. "You don't need a fork, Happie; it's just as well you haven'tan extra one; you're not used to handling such things. You scatter withyour hands, and I'll take the hay as Pete and Bob throw it up. Youwatch a minute, and you'll see what to do."

  Laura obeyed Gretta reluctantly, and Happie began to think that theprettiest motions were not taught young girls, nor executed by them incalisthenic or dancing classes. Gretta made a picture as she stood, herhandsome face flushing under her rose-colored sunbonnet, her dark eyesbright with concentrated attention, and proud pleasure in performingher task as well as any boy could have done. Her sleeves were turnedback to her elbows, her brown arms were well-shaped, her tall figuresplendidly proportioned, and strong with the strength of trainedmuscles and a life spent in the sunshine and pure air. She caught thegreat bunches of hay which Pete and Bob threw up to her, wielding herfork surely and gracefully, judging accurately and quickly where toplace each forkful to keep the load symmetrical and the balance trueso that when the last wisp was on, the great wagon would roll down thehilly meadow, down into the barn, with no danger to itself, nor to itsriders.

/>   It was so fascinating to watch Gretta's movements, to stand amongthe delicious hay in the June sunshine, that Happie forgot to work,drinking in a new experience that seemed to her the most delightful shehad ever tasted.

  The laden wagon was piled higher rapidly. Bob and Pete pitched fast,trying to tire Gretta, but she received as fast as they pitched, and itwas Ralph who first cried for mercy.

  "Look here, do you think we're hoppers?" he asked pantingly.

  "Yes, grasshoppers," said Bob, throwing a particularly large bunch ofthe fragrant timothy at his friend. But he stopped himself, and wipedhis brow, leaving on it a design sketched in timothy seed. "Talk aboutgymnasium practice!" he gasped. "There isn't a girl in one of the gyms,I believe, who could hold out at this work the way you have, Gretta.I take off my hat to you; you have beaten me." And Bob made a deepbow, sweeping the ground with the flapping hat which he wore like otherfarmers.

  To Happie's surprise Gretta returned the bow with an equally low one,brushing the hay with her gingham skirt spread out in each hand. Herface dimpled with a mischievousness new in her.

  "Every jack has a trade," she said. "I ought to beat you at hay-making;maybe you would beat me if we were loading up on Latin. You might handup Penny now, Bob, and then Polly. I don't believe I'd use the fork forthem. This wagon won't hold more than half a dozen more forkfuls, Pete."

  "All right, Gretta; that's all right," said Pete. "You know when you'vegot enough."

  "I believe you think _you_ know when you've got enough, too, Pete,"suggested Bob.

  "Well," said Pete, pushing back his hat with the arm that dried hisface, and shifting his tobacco into his other cheek, "well, Bob, I'vebeen pitching hay for full--le's see--full forty-seven seasons, and Inotice forks keeps gittin' heavier every one of the last ten of 'em."

  "Gracious; mine is heavy enough for me now, in my first season!"exclaimed Bob. "Come up, Pennykins; Gretta's ready for the last of herload now."

  He swung Penny up to the strong arms held out to receive her, followedPenny with Polly, and assisted Laura by vigorous "boosts," and nosmall effort, for Laura was not a good climber, and the hay affordedbut poor foothold. With Happie pulling on one arm, Gretta the other,and Bob shoving from below, dignified Laura was hoisted in a mostundignified manner. Ralph slid down to help rake behind the wagon,Pete took up the reins, shouted to his patient beasts, and the wagonstarted, groaning and protesting under the heavy burden with whichGretta's skillful loading had heaped it.

  The field lay upward of the slope of a hill; rocks abounded in it,the loose Pennsylvania rocks, as many and as troublesome as thosewith which New England struggles. There was a sort of cairn of themheaped at the foot of the slope where the Bittenbenders, or some otherpredecessors of the present tenants, had deposited the stones whichthey had picked from the field, intending, on a day which had nevercome, to haul them away to the rough stone wall which marked thefield's northern boundary.

  Just as the hay wagon, looking like a moving hillock itself, reachedthis high mound of rocks, Pete's hand guiding the horses, was thrown upto ward off a branch that threatened his eyes; the horses swerved, thewagon went up on two wheels, and the sudden motion sent Polly from herseat too near the edge, head downward and backward, over the top of theload.

  It all happened in an instant. Happie saw Bob throw up his hands witha gesture of horror, saw Polly disappear, and saw Gretta spring up, atthe same time throwing herself face downward on the hay. Happie sawher catch one of Polly's ankles, and hold the child with her stronghand, suspended over the wagon. Pete jerked the reins sharply, thewagon righted itself, and Gretta's other hand crept cautiously afterits mate, taking Polly's other ankle in its grasp. Then Happie arousedfrom the paralysis of mind that seemed to have fallen upon her. Shecrawled to the side of the wagon, and together she and Gretta drewPolly into safety.

  It seemed an hour since she had seen the child lurch backward andfall--it had been seconds. She looked down. There stood Pete, blueunder the tan of his skin. Bob and Ralph, one with hands upraised, theother crouched as if to dodge the sorrow, stood like statues, ashengray. As Happie looked down, Bob moved, and turned away to hide thetears that streamed down his face. Pete gathered together the reins,shaking from head to foot. Ralph covered his face with his hands, andHappie heard him breathe: "Thank God!"

  "She'll never be no nearer the aidge of eternity till she goes overit," remarked Pete. "Git ap, Jim! Come on, Lil!"

  Polly lay hiding her face on Gretta's lap, who smoothed her hairsilently, her own face grave and pale. Penny was crying with all hermight, and Laura rocked her body to and fro, moaning hysterically: "Oh,those rocks! Those rocks!"

  Happie looked down at the pile for which Polly had headed. It washardly possible that she could have struck them, backward as she wasfalling, and not have broken her neck. A sickening realization of thesorrow so narrowly escaped, was followed by a swift rush of love andgratitude for the strong, quiet girl, whose quick brain and steady handhad saved Polly.

  Happie turned to Gretta with her whole heart in her face.

  "It was death," she whispered; she could not summon her voice. "I cannever thank you."

  "I only held her up," said Gretta.

  Then the color rushed up over her blanched face in a wave of joy.

  "I'm glad if I can pay some of my debt," she said.

  The great wagon, so heavily laden with its towering hay and gratefulhearts, rolled slowly down the road. Thanks to Gretta, it was stillcarrying only glad young folk on a hay ride. But how nearly it had beendear little Polly's funeral car!