Peggy-Alone Part 18

"Not blue," interrupted Ivy, "I'd call it a red letter day!"

"Well--" said Alene when Laura paused as if to ponder over something suggested by her words.

"Well," she returned, coming back to the present, to find her two friends waiting interestedly. "Well, it strikes me as a good idea for adoption by the Happy-Go-Luckys. It wouldn't be original with us, but if we wait to do only things which have never been done before, we may remain idle forever and ever, for there's nothing original under the sun."

"Except original sin," suggested Ivy.

Laura gave her a withering glance that included Alene who always found Ivy's sallies amusing. Perhaps Alene's smile on this occasion caused Ivy to continue:

"Yes, Lol, I've found that's true, especially when one's writing. If you put down something you think is decidedly fine or smart, you're sure to find that the Bible or Shakespeare or the Daily Observer in to-day's paper has said it all so much better! But excuse me, I'm interrupting you!"

Laura was too full of her subject to give more than a stiff little contraction of the lips to Ivy's digression; she went on to say:--

"Well, what made me think so much of the birthday idea was what Mother said when she came home from Mrs. k.u.mp's this morning. The old lady lives all alone. She makes a living by doing odd jobs, so Mother wanted to get her to do some quilting. She does it beautifully, in an old-fas.h.i.+oned way that few understand now-a-days. When Mother got there she found her going round doing her work on her hands and knees--her feet were too sore to walk on. She told Mother she had been that way for a week. She was glad of the quilting, not having been able to do any other kind of work for some time. Mother was afraid she might be in actual want, but she didn't dare say a word for fear of offending her. Mrs. k.u.mp happened to remark that Thursday, the day after to-morrow, is her birthday, and hearing that, just after reading about the birthday party, made me think of the Happy-Go-Luckys' 'Be kind' clause. So, girls, what do you think?" Laura turned to them a s.h.i.+ning, expectant countenance.

"That we might set some birds a-flying straight to the poor old lady,"

was Alene's prompt reply.

"Yes, the birds will be the best in this case as it is rather quick time for flower seeds to take root and bloom," remarked Ivy.

"But these are a kind of magic flowers that spring up in a single night," said Alene.

"And who knows, some of them may turn out regular century plants. I read a poem not long ago, about a pebble cast upon the beach, that sent out ripples to the farther sh.o.r.e, which I suppose means that sometimes our smallest action may have a far reaching influence," said Ivy, who reclined on the gra.s.s, with her eyes fixed dreamily on the blue expanse of sky that stretched across the river and met the dark blue line of hills beyond.

"Come down out of the clouds! We have work to do and precious little time for its doing," cried Laura, giving her a shaking. She sat up laughing.

"Sounds like a sermon on the shortness of time! What's time to us children of eternity? But what shall we give to poor old Mrs. k.u.mp?"

"That's the question," said Laura, glad to have arrived at something practical, a matter she often found rather difficult with Ivy. "Mother has promised a loaf of bread."

"And I'll ask Mother to give some rolls--but that's bread too; sounds so dry--I hate dry bread!"

"Kizzie always gives me a dish of honey for breakfast. I'll ask her for some of it, and Mrs. Major gets the loveliest little pats of b.u.t.ter from the country, marked with a dear little cow--I'm sure she will give me one!"

"Instead of a bird that will be a b.u.t.terfly," interposed Ivy; "or a cowslip!"

"Or a b.u.t.tercup and a honey-bee," returned Alene.

"You wretches! Here's one to get even. As Mrs. k.u.mp works at quilting, we ought to send her a quilting-bee!"

Laura's sally was greeted with groans.

"Well, there's something you won't groan about. Mrs. k.u.mp was lamenting that she couldn't go out to pick any berries this year and so will miss her jam. Let's go blackberrying to-morrow morning, if the boys will go along; we can get home before noon and I'll make her a jar of jam."

"Splendid!" cried Alene, "I've never gone berrying in my life!"

"What's the matter with you, Ivy? You are not usually so shy!"

"It will be too far for me," said Ivy dejectedly.

"Where did you think I meant to go? Why, just around the road, on the hillside near the bridge!"

"There's not a berry left there! Hugh went over this morning and found the bushes stripped! The nearest place is Thornley's, three miles away!"

"Then of course we won't go! I wonder if you could go horseback? I was thinking that Mat could borrow the groceryman's horse."

"No, Lol, I never learned to ride. Besides, it would be so jolty! The rest of you go without me; the walk will be only a pleasure for you!"

The girls protested against this; they talked of other things connected with Mrs. k.u.mp's birthday party, and the blackberry project was apparently abandoned.

A bright thought had come to Alene, however, which she resolved to keep a secret until she found if she could carry out her plan.

It all depended on her uncle, whom she expected to come up the street at any moment, on his way home from the office. She jumped up when she saw him coming.

"Stay here, girls, until I speak to Uncle Fred."

She ran to the wall and climbed up at the spot where she had first seen her new friends.

Mr. Dawson crossed in answer to her call.

After a few moments' conversation she returned to the girls, saying gaily:--

"It's all right, he says we may have it!"

They gazed upon her wonderingly.

"What do you mean?"

Alene laughed.

"There, I forgot it was a secret. Well, here goes--All the horses are out at the farm now, but Uncle Fred says we may have the surrey if Mat can get a horse!"

Laura clapped her hands, and Ivy, who had been unusually silent and depressed in the last half hour, brightened and her face was fairly radiant with joy as she cried:

"Oh, Alene! You good fairy G.o.dmother! It's just like Cinderella and her pumpkin coach!"

"But we mustn't wear gla.s.s slippers," said Laura. "You see, Alene, when we go a-berrying we always wear our heaviest shoes and battered bonnets and patched dresses, for the thorns tear our shoes and clothes."

Alene's face clouded.

"I'm afraid I can't find a battered dress or a patched bonnet. Will I have to stay at home?"

"No, you goose! Just wear the plainest you have!"

CHAPTER XVII