The Rich Mrs. Burgoyne by Kathleen Thompson Norris
CHAPTER XII
So Barry was invited up to the Hall to dinner, and found himself soinstantly swept into the plan that he had no time to be self-conscious.Dinner was served on the side porch, and the sunlight filtered acrossthe white cloth, and turned the garden into a place of enchantment.When Billy and the small girls had seized two cookies and two peachesapiece, and retired to the lawn to enjoy them, he and Sidney sattalking on in the pleasant dusk.
"You've asked eight, so far," he said, as she was departing for theoffice an hour or so after dinner was finished, "but do you thinkthat's all?"
"Oh, it positively must be!" Sidney said virtuously, but there was awicked gleam in her eye that prepared him for her sudden descent uponthe office two days later, with the startling news that now she hadpositively STOPPED, but fourteen children had been asked!
Barry, rather to her surprise, remained calm.
"Well, I've got an idea," he said presently, "that will make that allright, fourteen children or twenty, it won't make any difference. Only,it may not appeal to you."
"Oh, it will--and you are an angel!" said the lady fervently.
"I've got a friend up the country here in a lumber-mill," Barryexplained, "Joe Painter--he hauls logs down from the forest to theriver, with a team of eight oxen. Now, if he'd lend them, and you got ahay-wagon from Old Paloma, you wouldn't have any trouble at all."
"Oh, but Barry," she gasped, her face radiant, "would he lend them?"
"I think he would; he'd have to come too, you know, and drive them.I'll ride up and see, anyway."
"Oxen," mused Mrs. Burgoyne, "how perfectly glorious! The children willgo wild with joy. And, you see, my Indian boys--"
"Your WHAT?"
"I didn't mention them," said Sidney serenely, "because they'll walkalongside, and won't count in the load. But, you see, some of thosenice little mill-boys who don't go to school heard the girls talkingabout it, and one of them asked me--so wistfully!--if there wasanything THEY could do. I immediately thought of Indian costumes."
"But how the deuce will you get the costumes made?" said Barry, drawinga sheet of paper toward him, and beginning some calculations, with ananxious eye.
"Why, it's just cheese-cloth for the girls. Mrs. Brown and I have ourmachines up in the barn, and Mrs. Carew and Mrs. Adams will come up andhelp, there's not much to THAT! Barry, if you will really get usthis--this ox-man--nothing else will worry me at all."
"You'll have to put the beasts up in your barn."
"Oh, surely! Ask him what they eat. Oh, Barry, we MUST have them! Thinkhow picturesque they'll be! I've been thinking my entry would be adisgrace to the parade, but I don't believe it will be so bad. Barry,when will we know about it?"
"You can count on it, I guess. Joe won't refuse," Barry said, with hislazy smile.
"Oh, you're an angel! I'm going shopping this instant. Barry, therewill be room now for my Ellen, and Billy, and Dicky Carew, won't there?It seems their hearts are bursting with the desire. Bunting," murmuredSidney, beginning a list, "cheese-cloth, pink, blue, and cream, boltsof it; twine, beads, leather, feathers; some big white hats; ice-cream,extra milk--"
"Hold on! What for?"
"Why, they have to have something to eat afterward," she reproachedhim. "We're going to have a picnic up at the Hall. Then those that canwill join their people for the fireworks, and the others will be takenhome to Old Paloma. The little Scott girl will stay with Ellen and Joovernight; Mammy Currey will look after them, and they'll watch thefireworks from my porch. I've written to ask Doctor Young--he's thebest in San Francisco--to come up from the city next day to see what hethinks can be done for Mary Scott."
"You get a lot of fun out of your money, don't you, Sidney?" saidBarry, watching her amusedly, as she tucked the list into her purse andarose with a great air of business.
"More than any one woman deserves," she answered soberly.
"Walter," said Anne Pratt to her brother, one evening about this time,as she decorously filled his plate from the silver tureen, "have youheard that Mrs. Burgoyne has gathered up about twenty children in OldPaloma--cripples, and orphans, and I don't know what all!--and isgetting up a wagon for the Flower Festival? I was up at the Hallto-day, and they're working like beavers."
"Carew said something about it," said Walter Pratt. "Seems a good idea.Those poor little kids over there don't have much fun."
"You never said so before, Walter," his sister returned almostresentfully.
"I don't know why I shouldn't have," said Walter literally. "It's true."
"If we did anything for any children, it ought to be Lizzie's," saidMiss Pratt uncomfortably, after a pause.
"I wish to the Lord we COULD do something for Lizzie's kids," herbrother observed suddenly. "I suppose it would kill you to have 'em uphere?"
"Kill me!" Miss Anne echoed with painful eagerness, and with a suddentremble of her thin, long hand. "I don't know why it should; therenever were better behaved children born. I don't like Lizzie's husband,and never shall;" she rushed on, "but seeing those children up at theHall to-day made me think of Betty, and Hope, and Davy, cooped up downthere in town. They'd love the Flower Festival, and I could take themup to the Hall, and Nanny would be wild with joy to have Lizzie'schildren here; she'd bake cookies and gingerbread--" A flush had comeinto her faded, cool cheek. "Wouldn't they be in your way? You reallywouldn't mind--you won't change your mind about it, Walt?" she saidtimidly.
"Change my mind! Why, I'll love to have them running round here," heanswered warmly. "Write Lizzie to-night, and tell her I've got to godown Tuesday, and I'll bring 'em up."
"I'll tell her that just the things they have will be quite goodenough," said Miss Pratt. "The Burgoyne children just wearplay-ginghams--I'll get them anything else they need!"
"It won't interfere with your club work, Anne?"
"Not in the least!" She was sure of that, "And anyway," she went ondecidedly, "I'm not going to the club so much this summer. Mary Brownand I went yesterday, and there was--well, I suppose it was a goodpaper on 'The Mind of the Child,' by Miss Sarah Rich. But it seemed soflat. And Mary Brown said, coming away, 'I think Doctor and I willstill come to the monthly receptions, but I believe I won't listen toany more papers like that. They're all very well for people who have nochildren--'"
"Well, by Tuesday night you'll have three!" said Walter, with what wasfor him great gaiety of manner.
"Walter," his sister suggested nervously, "you'll be awfullyaffectionate with Lizzie, won't you? Be sure to tell her that we WANTthem; and tell her that they'll be playing up at the Hall all summer,as we used to. You know, I've been thinking, Walter," went on the poorlady, with her nose suddenly growing red and her eyes watering, "thatI've not been a very good sister to Lizzie. She's the youngest, andMother--Mother wasn't here to advise her about her marriage, and--andnow I don't write her; and she wrote me that Betty had a cough, andDavy was so noisy indoors in wet weather--and I just go to the Club tohear papers upon 'Napoleon' and 'The Mind of the Child.'" And MissAnne, beginning to cry outright, leaned back in her chair, and coveredher face with her handkerchief.
"Well, Anne--well, Anne," her brother said huskily, "we'll make it upnow. Where are you going to put them?" he presently added, with aninspiration.
Miss Pratt straightened up, blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and rang forthe maid.
"Betty and Hope in the big front room--" she began happily.
Another brief conversation, this time between George Carew and hiswife, was indicative of a certain change of view-point that wasaffecting the women of Santa Paloma in these days. Mr. Carew, cominghome one evening, found a very demure and charming figure seated on theporch. Mrs. Carew's gown was simplicity itself: a thin, dotted, darkblue silk, with a deep childish lace collar and cuffs.
"You look terribly sweet, Jen," said Mr. Carew; "you look out ofsight." And when he came downstairs again, and they were at dinner, hereturned to the subject with, "Jen, I haven't seen you look so sweetfor a long time. What is tha
"Sorrel made this, and it only cost sixty dollars," said Mrs. Carew.
"Well, get her to make you another," her husband said approvingly. Atwhich Mrs. Carew laughed a little shakily, and came around the table,and put her arms about him and said:
"Oh, George, you dear old BAT! Miss Pomeroy made this, upstairs here,in three days, and the silk cost nine dollars. I DID have a dress likethis in my trousseau--my first silk--and I thought it was wonderful;and I think you're a darling to remember it; and I AM going to wearthis on the Fourth. It's nice enough, isn't it?"
"Nice enough! You'll be the prettiest woman there," stated Mr. Carewpositively.