Pearl and Periwinkle
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Anna Graetz >> Pearl and Periwinkle
Pearl and Periwinkle
BY
ANNA GRAETZ
[Illustration: Emblem]
L. B. C.
Col. O.
1917
CONTENTS
Chapter I
Page
Myra's Dreadful Children 5
Chapter II
Pigs, Cabbages and--Mr. Robert Grey 11
Chapter III
At the Shrine of Joe Smith 19
Chapter IV
The Clan 29
Chapter V
The Wall that Parted 37
Chapter VI
Joe Smith's Choice 41
Chapter VII
Periwinkle Breaks the Ice 49
Chapter VIII
"Even Unto Bethlehem" 55
CHAPTER I
MYRA'S DREADFUL CHILDREN
Miss Hetty Maise, having spent the night in fitful spells of slumber, at
last awakened by the beams of sunlight, sat up in bed with a start,
quite unrefreshed and possessed of an uncomfortable feeling that
something unpleasant was about to happen. A venturesome sunbeam, casting
its light upon a picture on the heavy walnut dresser, seemed to recall
the cause of her sleepless night and present uneasy state of mind.
Drawing her lips tightly together she frowned severely at the
inquisitive intruder.
"Those children," she thought, "Myra's dreadful children! If the
minister himself hadn't insisted that it was my plain duty to take them
I shouldn't have done it. It seems almost a sin to take in two children
who have been circus performers."
Miss Hetty was up by this time, for she hated to be idle. In fact the
minister's son had once remarked that she was accustomed to stir her
cake batter while she was reading her Bible; but then the minister's son
was inclined to be irreverent at times.
But even he would have felt sorry for Miss Hetty this morning. To adopt
two children when you know nothing whatever about their care was by no
means a pleasant prospect. Besides, these children were the son and
daughter of the outcast of the family, an only sister half-forgotten
though only two months deceased. The thing itself was pathetic, yet it
seemed an imposition: above all to adopt two children who had traveled
all their young lives with a circus was at least to Miss Hetty's mind
almost scandalous.
Often during the morning she absently folded her hand and in
unaccustomed idleness gazed, as if dazed, down the quiet village street
as if expecting help from that source. Once, having aroused herself, she
had gone to an old trunk, her deceased mother's, and drew out two faded
pictures tied with an old ribbon and folded over a lock of yellow hair.
The first picture, the face of a girl that smiled up at her so sweetly
and trustingly, caused unbidden tears to well up in her eyes, just as it
had always affected her mother. The second picture was regarded with
more interest though with less affection. Here was the same loved face,
but beside it the merry, dark face of the actor husband for whom she had
left her home, and in her arms their first baby branded--as Miss Hetty
thought--with the heathenish name of Periwinkle. A letter had
accompanied this photograph, but it had never been answered. Several
years later another letter had been received, telling of the death of
her husband and of the illness of Periwinkle's two year old sister,
Pearl.
Though Myra had died but two months before and if perhaps then her
younger sister had felt any pang of pity for the orphaned children, it
did not enter her thoughts this morning. She plumped up the pillows on
the prim horsehair sofa, painfully recalling the pillow fight she had
once seen between her cousin's children. Children were a nuisance, and
these two--Myra's dreadful boy and girl--were bound to be more than
that.
Her sense of indignation reaching a higher pitch every minute, she
spitefully slammed the front door and left the house just as the clock
struck eleven. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk sharply in full
sympathy with her state of mind as she walked down the street of the
village. And then, as she might have expected, she met the one person
whom she least of all desired to meet. An icy stare on her part, a stiff
formal bow from the man passing--that was all, but she knew that in that
brief interval he had had ample opportunity to observe that she was
worried and cross and looked every day of her twenty-nine lonely years;
and of course it could not but give him much satisfaction. This
disturbing thought crowded out the remembrance of the unloved, unwelcome
niece and nephew until a sharp curve in the road brought into view the
smoke begrimed depot and, drawn up before it, the train which had just
come to a puffing, throbbing standstill like a wild horse unwilling to
pause in its mad race.
Several of Miss Hetty's acquaintances, gathered on the station platform,
were not accorded the usual recognition, for her eyes were fixed
intently on the childish pair alighting from the train. The one, a tall,
slender lad of about thirteen, with curls of golden yellow hair
clustering over a broad forehead, a mouth whose sensitive delicately
modeled lips together with the shadowy depths of deep grey eyes
indicated even in one so young the temperament of a dreamer, first
engaged her attention. But little Pearl! Hair black as night when only
one star is shining and eyes like the double image of that star; a
figure as tiny as the dream of a fairy: that was Pearl.
It was not her childish charm however that made Miss Hetty gasp. It was
the enormous bow, half covering her head, and the butterfly comb that
caught back her curls. The ribbon seemed larger than the silk frock
buoyant with many skirts and quite abbreviated, while the little
high-heeled shoes seemed designed for anything rather than wear.
For a time the children stood quite alone on the platform. Their first
appearance had held Miss Hetty spellbound at her position near the door.
She felt rather than heard a suppressed chuckle run through the small
crowd. Then suddenly her gaze met a pair of compelling brown eyes, not
cold and scrutinizing as they had been when their owner had passed her a
short time before, but sympathetic and friendly. She blushed furiously
and, quickly walking toward the forlorn pair, extended to each a cold
hand of welcome.
"Come Periwinkle, come Pearl," she said, not ungently. "I am your Aunty
Hetty and have come to take you home." And holding her head high and her
eyes straight ahead, she lead the strange pair past the tall gentlemen
on the platform.
"Do you know, Aunt Hetty, I thought it was you," said the boy eagerly as
they left the station. "You look a little like our mother did. She told
us lots about you, and so did the Fat Woman."
"The fat woman," exclaimed Miss Hetty somewhat in surprise. "Who is
she?"
"She looked after us," replied Pearl in a voice so sweet that in spite
of her aversion to her duty Miss Hetty's heart began to warm to her
unwelcome charges. "Even while mother was living she cared for us, and
she told us all we know. She got me all my clothes. She was so jolly and
nice, and so was Mr. Barleydon, and I didn't want to leave the circus, I
didn't, but Periwinkle did."
"Why did Periwinkle want to leave," asked Miss Hetty, now becoming much
interested, although she did purse up her lips when she spoke the
obnoxious name. Periwinkle answered for himself: "I didn't like the
trapezes, nor the everlasting traveling. I wanted to be in a home like
mother told us about and go to school. And besides that, I didn't want
Pearl to be like the spangled circus ladies, even if some of them were
lovely and the Fat Woman perfectly grand; so was one of the clowns. You
can't imagine, Aunt Hetty, what a noble, charitable fellow Jerry was. I
disliked to leave them. But how I hated the snake-charmer; you can't
imagine, Auntie."
Aunt Hetty shivered at the mere mention of a snake-charmer. She could
easily sympathize with Periwinkle in his aversion for her.
"You use pretty big words for a boy, Periwinkle," was, however, all that
she said.
"Yes, the Fat Woman said she couldn't account for them, but she taught
us, and she is a very brilliant woman. Little Pearl can read splendid.
You can't imagine, Aunt Hetty."
"You said that the Fat Woman told you about me," hinted Miss Hetty,
forgetting that she didn't wish to know anything about these worldly
people.
"O yes," replied Pearl, also desirous of furnishing her aunt with some
more information concerning her friend, the Fat Woman. "She said as you
would be different from the ladies we were used to, but you'd be our
relation and mean all for our good, and we was to put up with you as
you'd put up with us, and to respect you and love you like we did her.
But you won't mind just at first, will you, if we can't love you quite
so much as her, 'cause the Fat Woman was very dear to me and
Periwinkle."
A sudden something gushed up in the heart of Miss Maise, the something
that makes the Fat Woman and the clown and all of us kin, but it died
down as quickly, and she only said:
"I shall expect you to be good children and obey me, that is all."
"Not love you?" asked her young nephew in surprise.
The hard look faded again from Aunt Hetty's face as she yielding to such
an irresistible entreaty, hesitatingly replied:
"Yes--yes, a little if you can."
CHAPTER II
PIGS, CABBAGES, AND--MR. ROBERT GREY
The day following the arrival of Pearl and Periwinkle at their Aunt
Hetty's home was Sunday. But the children were not permitted to attend
the church service since the time had been too short to procure suitable
clothing for Pearl. Miss Maise, feeling that she would be setting a poor
example in remaining at home herself, determined at least to attempt the
instruction of the children in their Sunday-school lesson. Immediately
then after the breakfast dishes were washed she called them into the
living room.
Miss Hetty did not know just how to begin. The children sat quietly,
regarding her with wide-open eyes, and under their questioning gaze she
felt rather uneasy. A cloth-covered catechism was lying on the table and
this she finally took up. Glancing at the first page opened she abruptly
asked her niece:
"Are you a Christian?"
Pearl gazed at her inquiringly, but gave no answer. Miss Hetty was
prepared for the worst now.
"Do you believe in God?" she continued.
"Yes," answered the child in a surprised tone.
"Who is He?" was the next question asked.
Pearl pointed a little forefinger upward. "Up there," she said in that
awed tone in which little children speak of God, no matter how limited
their knowledge concerning Him. And all of Miss Hetty's questions
convinced her that Pearl's religion was limited to the knowledge that
God lives "up there."
Periwinkle admitted that he knew little more except that their mother
had told them that God always sees them.
"And don't you know any Scripture passages, nor Bible stories, nor your
Catechism? and don't you know that God punishes children who do not love
His Word?" asked their aunt in much surprise.
"But we never heard him speak a word," cried Pearl in reply.
Miss Hetty gazed at the child in eloquent silence. Then she arose,
unlocked the bookcase and selected two books.
"Learn the first two pages by the time I come back," she said. "I'll
leave you for half an hour. I know no other way of helping you."
There was silence for five minutes after their aunt with an indignant
swish of skirts had left the room. Pearl was the first to break the
silence.
"Do you think this is much fun, Peri?" she inquired, looking up with a
puzzled frown.
"No, I don't. I don't understand it. The Fat Woman never gave us a
lesson unless she explained it first."
"Let's not study any more then. It's dreadfully hot in here and the air
smells awful nice comin' through the window. Just like tulips and roses
and several brands of perfume jumbled together. Say, Periwinkle, if you
opened that window ever so little I could just fly right out to that
yellow butterfly that's wiping his feet on Aunt Hetty's flowers."
Pearl's wish was always law to her adoring brother. He set her free, and
as soon as he saw her "flying away," he daringly raised the window still
higher and jumped out quietly himself.
Hand in hand they skipped down the street as noiselessly as snowbirds in
the snowdrift and as gracefully as two windblown leaves. Many people
were walking along the street, all dressed in their best clothes and all
going in one direction. Suddenly Periwinkle clutched his sister's hand.
"Look, Pearl," he exclaimed excitedly, "there's that tall man with the
nice brown eyes, and the tan shoes who looked at Aunt Hetty so funny at
the station yesterday. Should we speak to him?"
"It would be nice of us," Pearl replied, and always accustomed to act on
the impulse, she called, "Howdy do, Mister! Why is everybody going this
way this morning?"
The man, thus addressed, stopped and, looking down on them with one of
those smiles of comradeship that won their hearts at once, replied:
"Why, hello! It's Sunday, you know, and we are all going to church.
Don't you want to come along?"
"Oh, Aunt Hetty wouldn't--she don't like my clothes, you know."
"I think they're real pretty," replied their new-found friend, smiling a
little because of their answer. "Silk aren't they?"
"Yes, trimmed with satin and snow-flake chiffon. I guess we'll go with
you, Mister."
"Good!" There was a ring in his voice that the children could not
understand. To walk to church hand in hand with the niece and nephew of
Hetty Maise would be a novel experience not unattended with some
humor--that appealed to him: to win their love would be the victory he
most desired.
"Won't you tell me your names, please," he whispered as they entered the
church.
"Periwinkle and Pearl Toddles, relatives of Miss Hetty Maise," was the
whispered reply.
Having introduced himself as Robert Grey, their new acquaintance led
them down the broad aisle of the church. As soon as the organ began to
sound its sonorous tones Pearl forgot her strange surroundings entirely
and sat between her brother and Mr. Grey as if in a trance. Not until
the sermon was well under way did she move, and then only to lean
against Periwinkle and whisper, "Isn't this fun, Peri?" "Not fun
exactly," he whispered in reply, "but awfully nice. Hush, Pearl, and if
you get tired just practice on your multiplication table."
It was not until after the doxology had been sung and they had come out
into the open air that the children spoke again.
"Wasn't it wonderful?" asked Periwinkle dreamily. "Do you know what I
thought of, Mr. Grey, when the man was speaking? He said we should do
good to all people. How I wish I'd have heard him say that before I hit
that boy that sneaked around the tent at Higginsport. That man makes you
feel like you want to be good, doesn't he?"
"Will you bring us again?" asked Pearl, with a wistful look on her
anxious face. "I like music even better than riding around the ring."
"Your aunt, Miss Maise--will bring you next Sunday," was the only
promise that Mr. Grey could hold out for them.
"We wish you could go with us too. Thank you for taking us," they called
as they left him.
The hands of the clock on the school-house were pointing to twelve when
Pearl and Periwinkle crawled quietly into the parlor through the still
open window. Their books were on the floor where they had dropped them,
but before they could have picked them up, had they so desired, Miss
Hetty came in. "Came in" is expressing it very mildly. Even Periwinkle
with his extensive vocabulary could not think of an adequate word to
describe the manner of her entrance.
"You have been disobedient. Don't tell me you haven't. You've been
playing on the street. Don't tell me--"
The children, however, did not attempt to interrupt her or defend
themselves until she had finished her scolding. Then her nephew let his
thunderbolt fall.
"We've been to church with Mr. Robert Grey."
"To church--with--Mr. Grey!" gasped Miss Maise, sinking into the nearest
chair and staring at the two young culprits as if she thought that the
heat had affected their minds. "To church--with--Robert Grey!"
"Yes, Aunty Hetty. Mr. Robert Grey with the brown eyes. I should think
if anybody was named Grey their eyes ought to be grey,--"
"Periwinkle Toddles! Did Mr. Grey have the nerve to come to my house and
steal you away to be made a laughing stock of in church?"
The boy flushed but tried to be courteous in his answer.
"I didn't see anybody laugh at us, Aunt Hetty. And Mr. Grey didn't steal
us away. We got tired of sitting here and so we ran out in the street
and he saw us and took us with him. Some children sang, and a man talked
and we had a dandy time. I'm sorry that I disobeyed you, but I'm glad I
went and I don't know whether I'm gladder or sorrier. So I don't much
care what you do to me."
"You will be punished severely," replied their aunt, "for running away
and going to church with that man."
"Why, what is wrong with him?" queried the niece, remembering Mr. Grey's
wonderful smile and how nicely he had treated them.
Miss Hetty was silent for a moment. She was uncertain just which was the
best way to answer this question. Finally she said, "Pearl, Periwinkle!
There is something I must tell you; something that you must find out
before you begin school the week after next. It may be hard for you to
understand this but you must know it so that you will not make any
mistakes again. You know there are only two families in this village,
two families that have any influence, I mean. They are the Maises and
the Greys and their relatives. They used to be good friends; in fact,
such good friends that two of them promised to become even more to one
another. Three years ago a quarrel began. My father had a very fine pig,
a Poland China, very fat--I remember. One night it strayed into neighbor
Grey's cabbage patch, and being a pig, did much damage. Mr. Grey came to
father who promised to keep Glenny--the pig--at home. That same night it
got out again and Mr. Grey who was rather hot tempered sicked his dog
on it. The big fellow killed our finest pig. Father went to law about
it, but died before it came to court, and the lawsuit was dropped. But
the quarrel kept on just the same. The Greys clung together and so did
the Maises. Every one else in the village sided with one or the other. I
thought I'd better tell you this before you started to school. The
Maises and Greys pass each other without speaking now."
"Why, I think that's silly," said Peri energetically "and Mr. Grey don't
look like a fellow to get sore over a pig."
"He did his best to avoid getting mixed up in the trouble," admitted
Miss Maise, "but it was his father's dog that killed the pig, and he
just couldn't help himself perhaps. Everyone got mixed up in it somehow,
and I don't believe any power under the sun can make the Maises and the
Greys friends again. But if you think I've forgotten how disobedient
you've been, you are much mistaken!"
"It's a shame, Periwinkle, to tie a big boy like you to a chair, but I
see I can't trust you." With these words she drew a ball of twine from
her pocket and to his great shame began securing him. Then she fastened
little Pearl in a like manner.
"I'll bring you bread and milk for your dinner," she said, "and perhaps
you won't be so anxious to run away the next time."
"But just the same," said Pearl when her aunt had left, as if she at
least had found much consolation in the thought, "we went to a good
place."
Her brother however did not reply; he was thinking of a Poland China pig
in a cabbage patch and comparing its loss with that of Mr. Grey's
priceless friendship.
CHAPTER III
AT THE SHRINE OF JOE SMITH
The occasion of the first meeting with the minister was a memorable one
for Pearl and Periwinkle. "As good as Clown Jerry," was Pearl's rather
startling statement, while Periwinkle assured Aunt Hetty that the
preacher was even more brilliant than the Fat Woman.
It so happened that this meeting took place that very Sunday afternoon
when the two children were doing penance for their morning's escapade.
The minister had called for the special purpose of meeting Miss Hetty's
new charges, very much to that good lady's dismay. She afterward
declared it to be one of the tricks of fate that the minister should
have called at that particular time, especially since her niece still
wore that horrid blue dress of which she so much disapproved. But the
minister did not seem to notice neither the dress nor the fastenings
which confined the children. He seemed rather to be impressed by Pearl's
wonderfully expressive face and the startling sweetness of her voice,
while Periwinkle's precociousness and quaint, grown-up ways attracted
him very much.
"Let the children come to see me soon, Miss Hetty," he urged, "and I may
be able to give them some instruction along the lines in which you say
they lack so much. Joe could help them in their lessons too." And then
turning to Pearl and Periwinkle, he asked: "How would you like to come
to the parsonage, and go over your lessons with my son?"
"Would he play with us?" queried Pearl.
With a hearty laugh the minister replied: "I'm almost afraid he would.
He is still a boy even though he is nineteen and goes to college. I am
sure that he still knows how to play. He's the only boy I have--all I
have--and I suppose I've spoiled him."
"When shall I send the children, Rev. Smith?" asked Miss Maise.
"Tomorrow, or the next day," was the prompt reply. "This is mid-August.
We can't begin too soon."
Tuesday afternoon the children wended their way to the parsonage. Pearl
was clad in a starched gingham dress, uncomfortably high about the neck,
and with sleeves of an unaccustomed length. The minister himself met
them at the door and ushered them into a room that from all appearances
was meant to be used as a comfortable and cozy living room--even though
there were some evidences of disorder which they knew their aunt would
not have approved of.
"Amuse yourselves for a minute, while I try to find Joe. It is rather
difficult to keep track of him," said the minister as he left them
alone.
When a few minutes later, the minister, followed by his son, was about
to enter the room he stopped, and, grasping his son's arm warningly,
they both, unperceived, watched the two children.
Left to their own resources the children had not remained inactive.
Their curious eyes taking in all the strange surroundings, they saw many
things that interested them. One of the pictures on the east wall
particularly impressed them. It portrayed the figure of a man, his face
lighted up with a wonderfully tender expression, while in his arms and
round about him were small children, alone or with their mothers. The
afternoon sun, shining through the open window, seemed to shed a radiant
halo over the whole group and to make the picture stand out in bold
relief. Standing before the picture in silent wonder, they had not
noticed the approach of the minister and his son. The minister quietly
withdrew, and when the children turned as if by common impulse, they saw
only a young man whose ingratiating smile at once opened a way to their
hearts.
Their previous experience in coming in contact with people enabled them
to become acquainted with the minister's son and to feel themselves the
very best of friends in less time than it ordinarily takes children to
overcome their natural timidity in the presence of strangers. Nor was it
any wonder that a close friendship was formed so quickly, for Joseph
Smith was that type of grown up boy whom all children feel instinctively
to be their friend.
After the first greetings and establishment of this friendship, Pearl
turned with childlike determination to the matter uppermost in her
curious mind.
"What is the name of that picture?" she asked, pointing at the one which
had attracted their attention.
"That is 'Christ Blessing the Children,'" replied Joe, and then he
hesitated. His father had asked him to help the children with their
arithmetic; he had not specified that he turn missionary as well as
teacher. Work of that kind was not exactly in his line. Like so many
lads of his age he seldom spoke on religious topics, although his faith
was a vital factor in his life. But catching sight of the enraptured
face of little Pearl, he felt certain facts flashing through his mind,
something about Christ's love for little ones and that we should not
offend one of them.
So he bravely began to tell the sweet story, though somewhat rapidly and
not any too clearly.
"Jesus Christ, the only Son of God whom God loved very much, lived on
earth and walked with His disciples. His disciples were the men who
followed Him and heard His teachings and tried to be like Him by doing
good and helping others. The mothers who lived where Jesus was preaching
heard of His kindness. They had heard also how He healed some of their
sick friends. So they brought their children to Him so that He might
bless them. Now when the disciples saw the women with the little
children they told them to go back to their homes. They said that Christ
was too busy to bother with children. But Jesus did not want them to do
this and he told his disciples, 'Suffer the little children to come unto
me, and forbid them not; for of such is the Kingdom of God.' He loved
little children and He also wanted them in His kingdom. He then took
them in His arms and blessed them, just as you see in this picture."