Peggy in Her Blue Frock
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Eliza Orne White >> Peggy in Her Blue Frock
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"We got in a lot of the material before the prices went up," said he.
"It is entirely out of fashion now. Nobody wants it."
Peggy and her mother cared nothing about the fashion; and indeed they
seemed to set the fashion, whatever they wore.
"How many yards are there in the piece?" Mrs. Owen asked. He told her
and she made a rapid calculation. "I'll take it all," she said.
The man could not conceal his surprise. "We only sell seven yards for a
grown person and four would do for her."
"I know, but I am going to make two dresses for myself and she will need
four. It is so much cheaper and stronger than any of the other wash
materials that I shall make all her dresses out of the same piece. She
won't mind having them all alike, will you, Peggy?"
"I'll like it; it's so pretty."
"Oh, please, mother, do make me one," Alice begged.
"I'm afraid you will have to be contented with the ten dresses you
already have," said her mother. "For, as I will have six dresses to make
for Peggy and two for myself, I think that will be all I can manage."
"Perhaps one of my dolls can have a dress out of it," Alice said
hopefully.
"Yes, I'll cut out a dress for Belle, and I can teach you to make that
so you can be sewing on it while I am making Peggy's frocks."
But it was some time before Peggy began to wear them, for it took her
mother a long time to make them. The very next afternoon, after the
dinner dishes were washed, Mrs. Owen got out the blue material and she
cut out a dress for Peggy, and then a small one for Belle. Alice was
learning to hem and she took as careful stitches as a grown-up person.
Peggy was divided between wanting to do what the others were doing and
hating to be tied down. She made frequent trips to the kitchen for a
drink of water and to see how Lady Jane was getting on.
"You can overcast these sleeves, Peggy," her mother said later in the
afternoon. "That is much easier than hemming."
"It's better than hemming," Peggy said, "because you can take such long
spidery stitches. But I just hate sewing. I'm never going to sew when I
grow up."
"But that is just the time you'll have to sew," said Alice.
"No, I'm going to be a writing lady."
"But they have to wear just as many frocks as other people," said Alice.
"I'll have them made for me. I'll get such a lot of money by my
writings."
"You may be married and have to make clothes for your children," said
her mother.
"I'll just have boys," said Peggy. "That would be much the best. Then I
could climb trees with them and climb over the roofs of houses, and
nobody could say, 'Peggy, you'll break your neck,' because I'd be their
mother, so everything I did would be all right."
"Oh, Peggy, you haven't been putting your mind on your work," said her
mother. "Pull out those last few stitches and do them over again, and
think what you are doing and not how you will climb trees with your
sons."
"I'll have all girls," said Alice. "Some will be dressed in pink and
some in blue."
"And some in red and some in yellow, and some in purple and some in
green," added Peggy, "and you'll be called the rainbow family. There,
mother, is that any better?"
"A little better, but you don't seem to make any two stitches quite the
same length."
Peggy suddenly flung down her work. "There's somebody at the back door,"
she said.
"It's the grocer's boy. You can go and get the things, only be sure not
to let the cat out."
Peggy never quite knew how it happened. She did not mean to disobey her
mother, but the afternoon was very pleasant and the kitchen was hot. It
seemed cruel to keep a cat in the house. She held the door open and,
while she was debating whether it would not be possible for her and the
cat to take a walk together, Lady Jane slipped out. Something gray and
fluffy seemed to fly along the grass and disappear under the fence. She
had gone without waiting for their pleasant walk together. Instead they
would have a mad race. Peggy liked the idea of a chase. It was much more
exciting than overcasting seams.
Peggy and the pussy-cat had a wild race, and more than one person looked
back to see why Peggy Owen, with flying yellow hair, was running at such
speed cross-lots, through back yards, and climbing over fences. Suddenly
Peggy was caught, as she was scrambling over a fence, by a piece of
barbed wire. Her one remaining winter school frock was torn past
mending. "Oh, dear, what will mother say?" said Peggy.
The skirt was almost torn from the waist, and Peggy felt like a
beggar-maid as she crept home. "Only, everybody will know I am not a
beggar-maid," thought Peggy. "They'll all say, 'What mischief has Peggy
Owen been up to now?'"
And her mother did say something very much like it when she came in.
"Peggy, what have you been doing now?" she asked.
"I was hunting for Lady Jane," she said breathlessly. "She slipped out
of the kitchen door."
"Peggy, how could you be so careless?" said her mother. Then, as she
noticed the confusion on Peggy's face, she said, "Did you let her out?"
"Not exactly," said Peggy. "I was thinking perhaps it would be nice for
us to have a walk together, when she ran away."
"You don't deserve to have any new clothes," said her mother, as she
looked at Peggy's torn frock.
"The blue ones will be stronger than this old thing," said Peggy.
CHAPTER IV
PEGGY GOES FOR A YEAST-CAKE
"Dear me," said Mrs. Owen, one hot morning, a few days later, as she
started to make bread, "this yeast-cake isn't fresh. What a shame!
Peggy, you'll have to go down to the village and get me another."
Peggy was delighted at the chance for an errand. She never minded the
heat, and she always liked to be out of doors better than in. It was
Saturday morning so there was no school. This heat in April was very
trying to Mrs. Owen and Alice.
"You'll have to change your dress if you go to the village," said
Peggy's mother. "You can put on one of your blue frocks if you like."
So a few minutes later Peggy in her blue frock went out into the spring
sunshine, a very happy little girl, with a small covered basket in her
hand, for her mother had told her she might get half a dozen lemons and
some sugar and a box of fancy crackers, so they could have some lemonade
and crackers in the afternoon.
"Be sure you don't forget the yeast-cake," her mother said, "and don't
stop to talk to any strange children, and don't call on any of the
neighbors. Don't run, it is too hot, but don't waste any time on the
road, for I want to get my bread started as soon as I can."
Peggy danced along the road in spite of the heat, for it was a happy
thing to be alive. She had not gone far when she saw a boy coming out of
a crossroad. It was Christopher Carter, and he too had a covered basket
in his hand.
"Hullo!" said Peggy.
"Hullo!" said Christopher. He joined her as he spoke.
"What have you got in your basket?" Peggy asked with interest.
"Butter and eggs from the Miller farm. What have you got in yours?"
"Nothing. Mother's sent me to the grocery store to get some things."
"How's the cat?" he asked.
"She's all right, only we have to keep her shut up, for if we let her
out she'd go straight to your house. I can't think why she likes you
better than us."
"She gets lots of scraps of fish and meat, because we are such a big
family; and then I suppose she likes her own old home, just as a person
would."
"I know, but Alice is so crazy about her: Alice is my sister," she
explained.
"My sister is just as crazy about her."
"So you've got a sister? I thought you had, and I guessed her name was
Matilda Ann."
"Matilda Ann! What an awful name! What made you think her name was
Matilda Ann?"
"I don't know. It just came into my head that her name was Matilda Ann."
"Well, it isn't."
"Alice guessed it was Fanny," Peggy hastened to add, hoping that the
credit of the family might be restored.
"It isn't Fanny either. You could guess and guess and you'd never guess
it. It's such an unusual name."
Peggy was full of interest. She guessed several uncommon names, but they
were all of them wrong.
"What letter does it begin with?" she asked finally.
"It begins with a D."
"Dorothy?"
"No, that's a very common name. I know lots of Dorothys."
"Doris?"
"That isn't uncommon, either. I know two Dorises."
"Dora?"
"That isn't uncommon, either. I know some Doras."
Peggy was amazed at the size of the acquaintance of this boy who had
come from the city, and she was very envious. She wished she knew all
those Dorothys and Dorises and Doras. She wanted to hear all about each
one of them. But he did not want to take the trouble to tell her about
them.
"Guess again," he said.
"I can't think of any more girls' names beginning with a D, except
Dorcas, in the Bible."
"It isn't Dorcas."
"Delia?"
"No."
"You'll have to tell me; I can't think of another thing."
"Her name is Diana."
"Diana! What a pretty name! Is she pretty?"
"She's all right," the boy said heartily; "only she isn't very strong;
and she has to stay in bed a lot when she is sick, and the cat amused
her. She came and would get on the bed and would curl down by her."
"She would? Mother would never let her go into our bedrooms."
Peggy was beginning to see why Lady Jane liked to live with the Carters.
But she had a pang of jealousy when she thought of that adorable gray
striped pussy, with her soft fur and her greenish eyes, curling down
contentedly and giving her cheerful purr while she was stroked by
another little girl.
"Is she the only sister you've got?" Peggy asked.
"Yes."
"Have you only one brother?"
"That's all. He's older than me. He's some brother," he added proudly.
"He writes poetry."
"Poetry? I write it too," said Peggy; "only mine is just nursery rhymes
to amuse Alice, about bees and hens and things."
"Tom is writing a poem about you."
"About me?" Peggy was deeply interested. "Can you say any of it?"
Christopher became very red and looked confused. "I can't remember it,"
he said.
"You must remember some of it."
She persisted until she wrung from him the confession that he could
remember one line, and she teased and teased him to repeat it until he
said, "All right, if you must hear it, I suppose you must: 'Peggy,
Peggy, long and leggy.' It gets nicer as it goes on, but that's all I
can remember."
Peggy looked down at her long legs thoughtfully. The poem was a distinct
shock. She had never had one written to her before.
"If he's like most boys I guess he's longer and leggier than I am," she
said.
"You are right there, he is."
"I'm glad I have long legs," said Peggy. "They are so useful when you
are climbing trees."
Christopher looked at her with new interest. "Do you like to climb
trees?" he asked.
"I just love to," said Peggy.
They were coming to the stone wall that enclosed the Thornton place.
Peggy climbed up and began to walk across it. At one end was a pine
tree, with convenient branches that she had often longed to climb. It
looked very tall and symmetrical with its spreading green branches
against the heavenly blue of the sky.
She could never quite remember whether it was she or Christopher who
first suggested climbing the tree. But they hid their baskets on the
other side of the wall, and presently she and Christopher were climbing
quickly from branch to branch. Peggy had never had a more blissful time.
She had often envied Lady Jane her power to scramble up trees with no
mother at hand to tell her to come down, or to warn her against spoiling
her frock. But now she envied nobody. It was too wonderful to be sitting
in the topmost branches of that pine tree. But the thought of Lady
Jane's furry garment made her look down at her less substantial frock,
and, to her dismay, she saw a long streak on it. She put her hand down
and it felt sticky.
"Oh, dear," she said, "I've got some of the pitch from the pine all over
my dress! Oh, dear, what will mother say? She told me to be sure not to
stop on the way, and not to talk to any strange children."
"I'm not a strange child," said Christopher. "She wouldn't mind your
talking to me."
"Yes, but I have stopped on the way. I'll have to hurry," she said.
"But, oh, dear, I'm afraid my dress is spoiled! Oh, what will mother
say? I've only worn it one other time, and she's only got one more of
these blue frocks finished."
"Only one more! How many are you going to have?"
"Four," said Peggy. She glanced up at him, and he looked as if he, too,
would be hard on his clothes and would have some sympathy for her, so
she added: "You see, it doesn't tear easily. The man in the shop said it
was as strong as nails. I am always spoiling my things."
He looked down at the long smear with genuine concern. "If I hadn't come
along it wouldn't have happened," he said. "I'll take you round to Aunt
Betsy's. She's got stuff that takes out all kinds of spots. She's got
them out for me."
"Is your Aunt Betsy the same as Clara's Aunt Betsy?" Peggy asked.
"My Aunt Betsy is father's aunt," he said. "That's the reason we came
here to live. She told us your house was going to be sold and there
wasn't any good doctor here any more."
They turned down a side street. "That's the house she lives in," he
said, pointing to a small white cottage with green blinds.
"Oh, yes, I know her," said Peggy. "She's Miss Betsy Porter."
Aunt Betsy was in her pleasant kitchen taking something with a
delicious, spicy smell out of the oven. She came to the door and asked
the children to come in. She was tall and thin, with gray hair and dark
eyes. Peggy thought of her as an old lady, but much more interesting
than old ladies usually were. There always seemed to be something very
nice in the way of food at her house, no matter at what time one
arrived.
"Now you children must each have a piece of my gingerbread," she said.
"I've just taken it out of the oven."
Miss Betsy Porter was deeply interested in the stain on Peggy's frock.
"That's a very enticing tree to climb," she said, when the children had
told her the whole story. "I climbed it once when I was a little girl."
Peggy looked with wonder into the kindly face of Aunt Betsy, with its
many lines. It seemed so impossible to think that she had ever been a
little girl climbing trees.
"I've got some stuff here that will take that out," said Aunt Betsy,
going to a cupboard in the other room. "It would be a great pity for you
to spoil that pretty dress."
There was a jet-black cat curled up on the red bricks of the kitchen
hearth. After the spots had been taken out, Peggy went over to make
friends with the cat. It did not seem polite to eat and run when Miss
Betsy had been so kind about taking the stain out of her dress, so Peggy
stayed to make a call, after the gingerbread had been eaten. And she and
Christopher told her all about Lady Jane Grey, and how she lived first
at one house and then at the other. Finally, the striking of a clock
made Peggy realize that the morning was slipping away.
"I guess I'll have to be going now," said Peggy, "for mother told me to
hurry and not to stop on the way. Oh, dear, what did I do with my
basket?"
"You didn't have any basket when you came in here," said Miss Betsy.
"We left our baskets behind the stone wall," said Christopher. "I forgot
all about them. I'll run back and get them."
"I'll run, too," said Peggy. "I guess I can run as fast as you can."
"It's too hot a morning to run, children," Miss Betsy called after them.
But they were already some distance away. Christopher in his brown suit
was a little ahead, but he was closely followed by Peggy in her blue
frock, with her flying yellow hair, and her long, slim legs.
The children gathered up their baskets and Peggy started to go to the
grocery store when her attention was caught by the melodious singing of
Mrs. Butler's canary-bird. "He's crazy about being alive, just as I am,"
thought Peggy. "I wish I could sing like that."
"I must just go and say good-morning to Mrs. Butler. See, she's got the
window open and the cage hanging there. Don't you wish you could sing
like a canary-bird?"
"No, I don't. What strange things you do think up!"
"Well, I'd like to sing like one," said Peggy, "because it sounds so
joyous, and there's never anything I can do to show how joyous I feel."
Mrs. Butler came to the open window, to speak to the children. She
didn't look at all joyous, for she had been having rheumatism, but this
warm day made her feel better.
"Won't you come in?" she asked. "I've just baked some gingerbread. You
must be hungry. Come in and let me give you some."
Peggy was about to say that they had already had some gingerbread, but
she had only had one piece, and it seemed to make her hungry for more.
She knew she ought not to stop again, but the temptation was too great.
So they went into Mrs. Butler's cool parlor. This time it was crisp,
thin gingerbread. One could eat several pieces and it seemed nothing at
all. And all the time, the canary-bird in the sunshine was singing his
glad song, "Spring is coming, spring is really coming," he seemed to
say, "and there will be daffodils out, and tulips and Mayflowers. And
the days will grow longer and longer, and more and more sunshiny." A
clock on the mantelpiece struck the half-hour. That was not a joyous
sound.
"I guess I ought to be going," said Peggy. "Mother told me to hurry and
not to stop on the way."
"Mother told me she was in a hurry for the butter and eggs," said
Christopher. "I'll have to go right home."
Christopher left Peggy when they came to her old house, which was now
his, and she felt a little pang of regret when she saw how pleasant it
looked with its new coat of paint, behind the two horse-chestnut trees,
which would soon be coming into blossom. At one of the upper windows she
saw a boy who she was sure must be the poet, and she hurried by, very
conscious of her long legs.
The grocery store was a place full of interest--there were such
delightful things to be seen. There was a box full of oranges and
another full of grapefruit, and a lady was buying some raisins. Peggy
was sure her mother would like some raisins if she had only happened to
remember about them, and it would be such a good chance to get some
oranges and grapefruit. But she remembered that her mother had not liked
it at all when she had brought back some oranges once that she had not
been told to order, so she turned regretfully from the oranges and
grapefruit to the lemons that were in another box.
"I'd like six lemons, please," she said to the clerk, "and two pounds of
sugar and a box of Butter Thins."
"Is that all?" he asked.
"Yes," said Peggy. She never once thought of the yeast-cake, for so many
exciting things had happened since she left home.
When she reached the house her mother said, "What have you been doing,
Peggy? You are an hour and a half late. There is no use now in starting
my bread before night."
It was then that Peggy remembered the yeast-cake. She turned red and
looked very unhappy.
"Mother, I forgot all about the yeast-cake," she confessed miserably. "I
remembered everything else."
"You remembered all the things you wanted yourself, but the one thing
you were sent for, the only important thing, you forgot. I wonder what I
can do to make you less careless. What is this smell? Why, it comes from
your frock! Peggy, what mischief have you been in now?"
Peggy and her mother were intimate friends, and they shared each other's
confidence, but Peggy had not intended to tell her about the frock until
the next day. However, there was no escape now.
"Christopher and I climbed the pine tree, the one by the Thornton place,
and I got pitch all over me, and I thought you'd be so discouraged that
he took me to his Aunt Betsy's house and she got the spots out."
"I told you not to stop to talk to any children."
"You said 'strange children.' He wasn't 'strange.'"
When Mrs. Owen had heard the whole history of the morning, she said:
"Now Peggy, I think you ought to be punished in some way. While you were
out Mrs. Horton telephoned to say that she and Miss Rand and Clara had
come up to spend part of the Easter vacation. She wants you and Alice to
come over and play with Clara this afternoon. I think Alice had better
go without you."
"Oh, mother," Alice protested, "that would be punishing Clara and me
too."
"I think it would be too awful a punishment," said Peggy.
"Yes, I suppose it would," said Mrs. Owen thoughtfully. She was a very
just mother, and Peggy always felt her punishments were deserved.
"I can't let it go and do nothing about it," said Mrs. Owen. "I tell you
what I'll do. I'll go over to Mrs. Horton's with Alice and leave you to
keep house, Peggy, until I come back. Old Michael may come with some
seed catalogues. If he does you can keep him until I get back. As soon
as I do, you can run right down for the yeast-cake, and this time I am
sure you will not stop on the way. Then you can go to Clara's for what
is left of the afternoon."
CHAPTER V
AT CLARA'S HOUSE
Peggy was walking up the long avenue that led to Clara's house. She had
had a wonderful afternoon. "Only I haven't been punished at all,"
thought Peggy. This was because old Michael had arrived with his seed
catalogues soon after her mother left, and, as he was one of her best
friends, Peggy was very happy.
"Mother will be back soon," said Peggy. "Let's play that I am mother,
and we'll look at all the pictures of flowers and vegetables and mark
the ones I want, just as she does."
Old Michael was quite ready to play the game, only he said it might be
confusing to her mother if they marked the catalogues; so Peggy got a
sheet of her own best note-paper, with some children in colored frocks
at the top of it.
"It's a pity to waste that good paper," said he.
"It's my own paper, Mr. Farrell," said Peggy, in a grown-up voice. "You
forget that I am Mrs. Owen and can do as I please."
"Sure enough, ma'am, I did forget," he said as he looked at the small
lady in her blue frock.
"Peonies, poppies, portulaca," said Peggy; "we'll have a lot of all of
those, Mr. Farrell. And we'll have the poppies planted in a lovely
ring."
"It was vegetables we were to talk about to-day, ma'am," said Mr.
Farrell respectfully. "How many rows of string-beans do you want to
start with, and how many butter-beans? And are you planning to have peas
and corn and tomatoes?"
"Mother is planning to can things to sell," Peggy began. "Oh, dear, I
forgot I was mother! I think a hundred rows of string-beans will be
enough to start with, Mr. Farrell. I am afraid that is all my children
can take care of. They are to help me with the garden. We haven't much
money; and we have to earn some or Peggy may have to go to live with her
grandmother, and I just couldn't stand that. I could not be separated
from my child; and Peggy and Alice must always be together. Perhaps you
can't understand this, Mr. Farrell, never having been a mother yourself.
It is no laughing matter," she said, looking at old Michael reprovingly.
Her mother came a great deal too soon; and she did not approve of all of
Peggy's suggestions about the garden. "Run along now, Peggy, and get the
yeast-cake, and don't bother us any more," she said unfeelingly.
Surely no little girl had ever gone to the village and back so quickly
as Peggy went. She resisted the temptation to get two yeast-cakes, for
fear one might not be fresh, thinking it wiser to do exactly as her
mother said.
And now, as she was walking between the rows of trees, she could hardly
wait to see Clara. She had not seen her since Thanksgiving Day.
There were three men at work at the Hortons' place, raking leaves and
uncovering the bushes in the rose garden. Peggy was glad they did not
have so many people at work. It was much more fun doing a lot of the
work one's self and talking things over with old Michael. Mrs. Horton
was talking with the man in the rose garden. He looked cross as if he
did not like to be interrupted. Mrs. Horton was short and plump, with
beautifully fitting clothes, but she never looked half so nice, in spite
of them, as Peggy's mother did in her oldest dresses, for Mrs. Owen
carried her head as if she were the equal of any one in the land.
Mrs. Horton looked pleased when she saw Peggy. She shook hands with her
and said how tall she had grown. Peggy was tired of hearing this. And
then she told her that the children were up in the apple tree. "You can
go right through the house and out at the other door," she said. "The
path is too muddy. Miss Rand will let you in. We are camping out; we
haven't brought any of the servants with us."
They only had the care-taker and her husband and these men on the place.
If this was camping out, Peggy wondered what she and her mother and
Alice were doing, with nobody but themselves to do anything, except old
Michael or Mrs. Crozier for an occasional day.
Miss Rand opened the door for Peggy. She was a small, slim little thing,
with big frightened eyes with red rims. She looked as if she had been
crying. Peggy wondered what the trouble was. She felt sorry for her, so
she gave her a kiss and a big hug and said how glad she was to see her.
And Miss Rand smiled and her face looked as if the sun had come out. She
was very nice-looking when she smiled.
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