Patchwork Part 26

"You and David, then?"

"No--please don't ask me--it's nothing."

"Well, there ain't no man in shoe leather worth cryin' about, I can tell you that. They just laugh at your cryin'."

Phbe smiled at her aunt's philosophy and resolved to forget the discouraging words of the preacher. She would be happy in spite of him--the future held bright hours for her!

CHAPTER XIII

THE SCARLET TANAGER

THE days that followed were busy days at the gray farmhouse. Phbe was soon deep in the preparations for her stay in the city. Her meagre wardrobe required replenishment; she wanted to go to Philadelphia with an outfit of which Miss Lee would not be ashamed. Much to her aunt's surprise the girl selected one-piece dresses of blue serge with sheer white collars for every-day wear in cold weather; a few white linens for warm days; and these, with her blue serge suit, her simple white graduation dress, and a plain dark silk dress, were the main articles of her outfit. Aunt Maria expressed her relief and wonder at the girl's choice--"Well, it wonders me that you don't want a lot of ugly fancy things to go to Phildelphy. Those dresses all made in one are sensible once. I guess the style makers tried all the outlandish styles they could think of and had to make a nice style once."

But when Phbe purchased a piece of long-cloth and began to make undergarments, beautifying them by sprays of hand embroidery, Aunt Maria scoffed, "Umph, I'd be ashamed to put snake-doctors on my petticoats."

The girl laughed. "They aren't snake-doctors, they are b.u.t.terflies," she said.

"Not much difference--both got wings. I don't see what for you want to waste time like that."

"It makes them prettier, and I like pretty things."

"Ach, you have dumb notions sometimes. I guess we better make your other dresses soon, then you won't have time for sewing snake-doctors or b.u.t.terflies. You better get your silk dress made in Greenwald, it's so soft and slippery that I ain't going to bother my old fingers makin' it.

Granny Hogendobler wants to come out and help to sew, and David's mom said she'll come down and help us cut and fit the serge dresses. She's real handy like that. If those dresses look as nice on you as they do on the pictures they will be all right. Granny and Barb dare just come and both help with your things--they both think it's so fine for you to go to the city! Granny Hogendobler spoiled her Nason by givin' him just what he wanted, and now what has she got for it? And I guess Barb is easy with that big boy of hers. Mebbe if she was a little stricter he'd be in the Church like Phares is, though David is a nice boy and I guess he don't give his mom any trouble."

"I just love Mother Bab; don't you say such things about her!" Phbe exclaimed, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng.

"Why, I like her too," the woman said. She looked at Phbe in surprise.

"You needn't be so touchy. For goodness' sake, don't take to gettin'

touchy like some people are! Handling them's like tryin' to plane over a knot in wood; any way you push the plane is the wrong way. This here going to Philadelphy upsets you, I guess. You're gettin' as touchy as the little touch-me-nots we get on the hill; they all snap shut when you touch 'em--only you snap open."

Phbe laughed. "I guess I am excited," she admitted. "I'm sewing too much for summer days and it makes me irritable. I think I'll let the b.u.t.terflies wait and I'll go outdoors. Shall I weed the garden?"

"Weed the garden? Now you're talkin' dumb! Don't you know yet that abody don't weed a garden on Fridays? Ours always gets done on Monday. But if you want to get out you dare take some of the sand-tarts I baked yesterday up to David's mom, she likes them so much. And you ask her if she can come down next week to help with the dresses. But don't stay too long, for it's been so hot all day and I think it's goin' to storm yet."

"Don't worry about me if it rains. I won't start for home if it looks threatening. I'll wait till the storm is over."

Aunt Maria filled a basket with her delectable cookies and the girl started up the hill. It was, indeed, a hot day, even for August. Phbe paused several times in the shelter of overhanging trees as she plodded up the steep road. On the summit she climbed the rail fence and perched in the cool shade for a little while and looked out over the valley where the town of Greenwald lay.

"It's lovely here, and I'm wondering how I can be happy when I know that I am going to leave it soon and go to the city for a long winter away from my home. But there's a voice calling to me from the great outside world and I won't be satisfied until I go and mingle with the mult.i.tude of a great city. It is life, life, that I want to see and know. And yet, I'm glad I'll have this to come back to! It gives me a comfortable feeling to know that this is waiting for me, no matter where I go--this is still my home. Sometimes I wonder if Aunt Maria could possibly be speaking wisely when she says it is all a waste of money to run off to the city and study music. But what is there on the farm to attract me? I don't want to marry yet"--the remembrance of Phares Eby's pleading came to her--"and if I do marry some time, it won't be Phares. No, never Phares! Ach, Phbe Metz, you don't know what you want!" she said to herself as she jumped from the fence and ran down the road to the Eby farm.

At the gate she paused. Mother Bab stood among her flowers, her white-capped head bare of any other covering, the hot suns.h.i.+ne streaming upon her.

"Mother Bab," she cried, "you are simply baking in the sun!"

"No," the woman turned to Phbe and smiled. "I'm forgetting it's hot while I look at the flowers. You see, Phbe, I was in the house sewing and trying to keep cool and all of a sudden my eyes grew dim so I couldn't sew. The fear came to me, the fear that my sight is going, though I try not to strain them at all and never sew at night. Well, I just ran out here and began to look and look at my flowers--if I ever do go blind I'm going to have lots of memories of lovely things I've seen."

Phbe drew Mother Bab's face to her and kissed it. "You just mustn't get blind! It would be too dreadful. There are many clever specialists in the city these days. Surely, there is some doctor who can help you."

"They all say there is little to be done in a case like mine. But, let's forget it; I can see and we'll keep on hoping it will last. I went to a doctor at Lancaster some time ago and I'm going to give him a fair trial. I guess it'll come out right."

Phbe brightened again at the woman's words of contagious cheer and hope.

"Isn't the garden pretty?" asked Mother Bab as they looked about it.

"Perfect! Those zinnias are lovely."

"Yes, I like them. But I like their other name better--Youth and Old Age, my mother used to call them. She used to say that they are not like other flowers, more like people, for the buds open into tiny flowers and those tiny flowers grow and develop until they are large and perfect. I would think something fine were missing in my garden if I didn't have my Youth and Old Age every year. But you will be too hot in this sun; shall we go in?"

"No, please, not until I have seen the flowers. I need to gather precious memories, too, to take with me to Philadelphia. Oh, I like this"--she knelt in the narrow path and buried her face in fragrant lemon verbena plants.

"I like that, too. Mother used to call it Joy Everlasting. We always put it in our bureau drawers between the linens. David likes lavender better, so I use that now."

"How you spoil him," said Phbe.

"You think so?" asked the mother gently.

Phbe smiled in retraction of her statement. "We'll both be parboiled if we stay out here any longer," she said as she linked her arm into Mother Bab's. "Aunt Maria sent you some sand-tarts."

"Isn't she good!"

"Yes, but"--the blue eyes twinkled mischievously--"they are just a bribe. We want you to come down and help us with the dresses some day next week. You are not to sew, but if you are there to tell about the fit of them I'll feel better satisfied. Whew! If it's as hot as this I'll have a lovely time fitting woolen dresses!"

"You won't mind."

"I don't believe I shall, so long as the dresses are to be worn in Philadelphia. Granny Hogendobler is coming out, too. Will you come?"

"I'll be glad to. David can eat his dinner at his aunt's."

They entered the house and sat in the sitting-room, a room dear to both because of its a.s.sociation with many happy hours.

"I love this room," Phbe said. "This must be one of my pleasant memories when I go."

"I like it better than any other room in the house," said Mother Bab. "I suppose it's because the old clock and the haircloth sofa are in it.

Why, Davie used to slide down the ends of that sofa and call it his boat when he was just a little fellow. And that old clock"--her voice sank to the tenderness of musing retrospect--"why, Davie's father set it up the day we were married and came here and set up housekeeping and it's been ticking ever since. Davie used to say 'tick-tock' when he heard it, when he first learned to talk. I like that old clock most as much as if it were something alive. A man who comes around here to buy antique furniture came in one day and offered to buy it. I'll never forget how David told him it wasn't for sale. The very thought of selling the old clock made Davie cross."

"Davie cross! How could he keep the twinkle out of his eyes long enough to be cross?"

"Ach, it don't last long when he gets cross."

"Where is he now, Mother Bab?"

"Working in the tobacco field."

"In the hot sun!"