Black-Eyed Susan Read online

  CHAPTER XI--HOW THE MONEY WAS SPENT

  It was the night of the Fair.

  Letty and Susan, on tiptoe with excitement and carefully carrying thegreen leather bag between them, walked to the church behind Mrs. Spargoand Miss Lamb, whose Blackbird Pie was all ready and waiting forcustomers.

  In the green pocketbook reposed the "five tens, one quarter, two fives,and four pennies."

  "See that star, Letty?" asked Susan, holding tight to Letty's arm as shegazed up at the moon, half hidden in the clouds, and at a single starthat shone near by. "Let's wish on it."

  "Star light, star bright, First star I've seen to-night, I wish I may, I wish I might Have the wish I wish to-night"--

  recited the two little girls in chorus.

  There was silence for a moment, and then Susan whispered:

  "What did you wish, Letty?"

  "Will you tell me if I tell you?" was Letty's reply.

  Susan nodded, and bent her ear invitingly to her friend's lips.

  "I wished that we would have a good time at the Fair," whispered Letty.

  "So did I!" cried Susan, opening her eyes wide. "So did I! Isn't itstrange that we always think of the same thing? We must be really trulytwins."

  "We are," answered Letty with conviction. "I do wish you weren't goinghome to-morrow. I wish you could stay here forever."

  Here Mrs. Spargo and Miss Lamb turned in at the church gate, gaylyillumined to-night for the Fair by a colored lantern, and the "twins"followed close on their heels down a narrow stone walk and through aside door into the lecture-room of the church.

  "This is the Sunday-School room," whispered Letty. "There is my seatover in the corner. Oh, look, look! There is the Blackbird Pie."

  And, sure enough, in the very corner where Letty sat every Sundaymorning in company with four other little girls and Miss Lamb, stood abooth draped with scarlet curtains over which winged a gay flight ofblackbirds. And best of all, there was the Blackbird Pie in the midst,so enticing with its profusion of strings, so mysterious with its hiddentreasure of "toys and small articles for five and ten cents," that Susanand Letty made a bee-line in that direction determined to spend alltheir wealth on that particular attraction.

  "Give me your hats and coats, girls," said Mrs. Spargo. "And if I wereyou, I would walk around the room first and see what there is for salebefore I spent my money here."

  "Oh, just one pull, just one pull," clamored the little girls, gazing atthe fascinating Pie with eager eyes.

  Mrs. Spargo laughed.

  "Red strings are five cents, white ones are ten," said she. "Pull away!"

  The green pocketbook was opened and the bankers peered inside just as ifthey didn't already know the contents by heart.

  "There are the two fives," said Letty who thought herself quite abusiness woman. "Let us spend them now and get rid of them."

  So, after studying the Pie from all angles, two red strings that seemedespecially desirable were chosen; and, grasping them firmly and shuttingtheir eyes, Susan and Letty each pulled on her own string and out cametwo little parcels, neatly wrapped in scarlet paper.

  "Look, look!" called Susan, poking a small plaid box, that held fourcolored pencils, in Letty's face.

  "See mine, see mine!" answered Letty, returning the compliment bythrusting under Susan's nose a tiny doll's pocketbook, just big enoughto hold a cent.

  "I like mine best," said Susan contentedly.

  "I do too," responded Letty.

  And, thoroughly satisfied, they set off hand in hand on a tour of theroom.

  The handkerchief-and-apron table they passed by with scarcely a glance.That booth might be interesting to grown people, but they didn't intendto spend any of their money upon such useful, everyday articles.

  The fancy table came next in their wanderings, and Susan and Letty,though admiring the embroidered sofa cushions, the lace table-covers,and the satin workbags, knew that they could never afford suchsplendors.

  "They must cost a hundred dollars," said Letty, who, since it was herchurch and therefore her Fair, so to speak, felt that she must supplySusan with information.

  "Maybe we can find a little present here for your mother and forGrandmother," said the country mouse to the city mouse in a low voice.

  The city mouse nodded in reply and stood on tiptoe for a better view. Ithad been decided before leaving home that a present should be bought forMrs. Spargo and one for Mrs. Whiting.

  "There seem to be little things down at this end," announced Letty."Come on. I'm going to ask."

  And, catching the eye of one of the ladies in charge, she piped up:

  "Please, have you any presents here for about ten cents? We want one formy mother and one for Susan's grandmother."

  "Ten cents?" said the lady, shaking her head. "I'm afraid not. But letme look about and see."

  Presently she returned with a handful of articles which she placedbefore her small customers.

  "I've nothing for ten cents," said she kindly. "But here are severalarticles for twenty-five and thirty and fifty cents."

  "Oh, Letty, I want that for Grandmother," said Susan, forgetting bothher shyness and her manners as she pointed a forefinger at an objectwhich she felt sure would delight Grandmother beyond words.

  It was a pale-blue stocking-darner with a little girl painted on oneside and a little boy on the other, and Susan knew in her heart that shewould never be happy again unless she could carry it home to-morrow andplace it in Grandmother's hands.

  "That is twenty-five cents," said the lady, and she waited patientlywhile Susan and Letty put their heads together and consulted whetherthey ought to spend so large a sum.

  At length Letty decided it.

  "We will," said she recklessly.

  So the stocking-darner was wrapped and tied and handed over to Susan,who, without a single qualm, watched Letty take the precious quarterfrom its resting-place in the green pocketbook and hand it across thecounter. It was money well spent, she thought.

  "Now we must buy something for my mother," said Letty. "How do you likethis, Susan?"

  It was a long purple box covered with bunches of violets and scrolls ofgilt. In it were three cakes of strongly scented violet soap.

  "I like it," said Susan, sniffing vigorously. "The box is pretty, too.Maybe your mother will give it to you when it is empty."

  "I will take this, please," said Letty, with the air of an experiencedshopper.

  And so easy and so delightful is it to form the habit of spending moneythat Letty and Susan didn't even blink when they heard the price,"thirty cents."

  They moved on, laden with their bundles, their eyes glancing hither andthither as they missed nothing of the gay scene about them. The Fair wasnow at its height. Every one was either buying or selling or walkingabout, laughing and talking, and all displaying their purchases in sucha holiday mood, that Susan, at least, felt that she had never been insuch a festive scene before.

  They had halted near the despised apron table when, glancing up, Susanspied above her head a doll made of Turkish toweling.

  "Letty," said she, pulling at her friend's dress, "can't we buy thatdoll for Johnny? I know he would like it, and his old Lolly has a holein her back."

  So Letty, as spokesman and guardian of the pocketbook, bought and paidfor the soft little dolly which fortunately proved to cost only tencents.

  Near the apron table was a half-open door which led into the churchkitchen. In the kitchen stood the high freezers that supplied thepopular ice-cream table, and, busily washing dishes with her back turnedto the door, stood hard-working Swedish Mrs. Jansen, who was glad of themoney that the church cleaning and any odd jobs might bring to her.

  Her little girl Emmy, no older than Letty and Susan, stood at her elbow,ready to act as errand girl. And just at the moment that Susan and Lettycaught sight of her, Emmy was in disgrace, for her mother turned angrilyupon her and with her hard fingers snipped the sides of her flaxen head.Then she resumed her dish-washi
ng, and Emmy slunk away to the door,where she stood rubbing her sharp little knuckles in her eyes andpeeping out at the gay scene in which she had no part.

  "Did you see that?" asked Letty indignantly. "Wasn't that the meanest?"

  "Wasn't it?" answered Susan, her eyes round with sympathy. "Let's buyher a present."

  Present-buying, if Susan had stopped to think, seemed to be somewhatlike running downhill--not so easy at the beginning, but, once started,the simplest thing in the world.

  And Letty was of one mind with her.

  "Ice-cream," she decided. "And we will watch her eat it."

  Glowing with patronage and generosity, and feeling as important as ifthey were treating a whole orphan asylum, Letty and Susan led theastonished Emmy across the room to the ice-cream table.

  "The best ice-cream that you have for ten cents," ordered Letty largely.

  And in a few moments they had the pleasure of seeing Emmy devour, inluscious mouthfuls, a large saucer of the pink-and-white frozen sweet.

  "When are we going to have ours?" asked Susan, who began to think itwould be fully as pleasant to sit down and eat ice-cream herself as tostand with hands full of bundles and watch some one else enjoying thetreat.

  "Right now," returned Letty, with an air of authority.

  She opened the pocketbook as she spoke, but after a glance inside sheturned a dismal countenance upon her friend.

  "We've spent it," she faltered. "We've spent it all but four cents."

  And she held the pocketbook, now woefully empty, so that Susan might seethe sad truth for herself.

  Susan stared blankly from the pocketbook into Letty's face.

  "Won't we have any ice-cream at all, then?" she asked piteously.

  Resourceful Letty turned and led the way down the room.

  "We will just ask mother for some money," said she airily.

  But alas for their plans! The Blackbird Pie was so popular, and bothMrs. Spargo and Miss Lamb were so occupied, that they did not even seeSusan and Letty, who tried in vain to gain their attention.

  They wandered back to watch Emmy finishing her ice-cream, quite innocentof the fact that her benefactors' feeling toward her had undergone achange.

  "Greedy thing," said Letty spitefully. "See how she gobbles."

  "She's spilling it," murmured Susan. "Look at her. Even Johnny wouldn'tdo that."

  "Look, look!" gasped Letty. "Did you ever?"

  For poor Emmy, to whom ice-cream was a rare treat, had lifted her saucerin both hands and was polishing it off with her little pink tongue, forall the world like a pussy-cat.

  "Come along," said Letty impatiently. "We can buy some candy, anyway,with our four cents."

  At the candy table another disappointment awaited them. They lookedscornfully at the two squares of fudge which was all their four centswould buy for them.

  "I never knew anything like it," scolded Letty, with her mouth full."You can do a great deal better round the corner from home. It's only apenny a square and much nicer than this."

  "Good-evening, young ladies," said a voice over their heads, "I hope youare enjoying the Fair to-night."

  The little girls looked up into the face of the new minister, Dr.Steele, and Susan hastily licked off her finger-tips so that she mightshake hands politely, while Letty choked on a large crumb of fudge andburst into a spasm of coughing.

  "I hope you are both enjoying the evening," repeated Dr. Steele, pullingout his handkerchief and offering it to Letty, whose eyes were streamingwith tears and who had left her handkerchief in her coat pocket. He andLetty were old acquaintances, but it was Susan who answered hisquestion, since Letty was unable to speak.

  "We did have a good time," said Susan frankly, "until we spent all ourmoney. But now we aren't having a good time, for our money is all goneand we haven't had a bit of ice-cream; not a bit."

  "I'll tell you what it is," burst out Letty, who had recovered hervoice. "I think everybody charged us too much for everything, and thatis why we haven't any money left."

  Dr. Steele's eyes twinkled.

  "I have heard that complaint before about church fairs," said he."Suppose you show me what you bought, and I will tell you whether Ithink you have been overcharged."

  So Susan and Letty spread their purchases out upon a bench, and Dr.Steele sat down to look them over.

  "The pencil box and the pocketbook were five cents apiece," began Letty."But they are all right because Mother sold them to us. Then Susanbought a stocking-darner for her grandmother. Show it to Dr. Steele,Susan. That lady in a blue silk dress made her pay a quarter for it, andI think she asked too much. And she made me pay thirty cents for thispresent for my mother. I think she ought to give us some of the moneyback." And Letty shook her head wrathfully at the broad back of aplacid, fair-haired lady who stood behind the fancy table.

  Dr. Steele glanced at the lady and smothered a laugh. It was his ownwife, Mrs. Steele, whom Letty had not recognized without a hat.

  Dr. Steele admired both presents and looked at the price tags still tiedto them.

  "No," said he at last. "They are marked twenty-five and thirty cents. Idon't think you were overcharged here. I think you have good value foryour money. And you spent ten cents on a doll for the baby, and tencents to treat a little girl to ice-cream, and four cents on candy foryourselves. No," repeated Dr. Steele soberly, shaking his head, "I thinkyou have proved yourselves excellent shoppers, and that you have spentyour money to very good effect. And I now invite both you young ladiesto be my guests at the ice-cream table."

  Dr. Steele rose, and escorted Susan and Letty across the room. He satdown between them, and, though he was able to eat only one plate ofice-cream while they easily devoured two apiece, he seemed to enjoy thetreat quite as well as they.

  When they had finished, there stood Annie in the doorway, waiting totake them home. Mrs. Spargo would stay until the Fair closed, and thatwould be too late for the little girls to be out of bed.

  "Good-night," said Dr. Steele, shaking hands. "And remember what I toldyou. That you are excellent shoppers, and that you have good value foryour money, very good value, indeed."

  CHAPTER XII--THANKSGIVING IN FEATHERBED LANE

  It was the morning of Thanksgiving Day, and Susan woke, sat up in bed,and looked about her. Beside her, on the quilt, lay the black-and-whiteshawl dolly, and, if you remember that she came out to play only whenSusan was ailing, then you will know, without being told, that Susan hadbeen ill.

  Yes, for three whole days Susan had been in bed. But to-day she meantnot only to be up and dressed, but to go downstairs as well, for to-daywas Thanksgiving Day, and to stay in bed on such an occasion wassomething Susan didn't intend to do.

  Four days ago Susan and Grandfather had come home from Banbury. They hadarrived late in the evening, and Susan, tired out, had fallen asleep inher chair at the dinner-table, and had been carried up to bed withouttelling Grandmother a single word about her visit or even presenting herwith the stocking-darner which she had carried in her hand all the wayhome from Letty's house.

  Of the next two days all Susan could remember was a sharp pain and a bigblack bottle of medicine, with occasional glimpses of Grandmother andGrandfather tiptoeing about the darkened room.

  But yesterday Susan had felt more like herself. She had enjoyed cuddlingthe shawl baby, she had eaten a plate of milk toast for her dinner, andshe had given Grandmother a complete history of her visit from themoment she left Featherbed Lane until her return.

  She had asked to see Flip, but Grandmother had said mysteriously thatFlip, in her turn, had gone visiting, and that she wouldn't be backuntil dinner-time Thanksgiving Day.

  "When is Thanksgiving Day?" Susan had asked.

  "To-morrow," Grandmother had answered, and Susan had sprung up in bedwith a cry.

  "Won't I be well to-morrow?" she asked imploringly. "Won't I be well forThanksgiving Day?"

  Grandmother at this moment was shaking the big black medicine bottle. Itdid seem to Susan that i
t was always medicine time, though Grandmothersaid it was marked on the bottle "To be taken every two hours."

  Mrs. Whiting smiled at her tone of despair.

  "I think so," said she encouragingly. "That is, if you take yourmedicine nicely," she added, approaching the bed with a large spoon inone hand and the bottle in the other.

  Susan shut her eyes and opened her mouth. Down went the medicine, and,without a whimper and with only a wry face to tell how she really felt,Susan smiled bravely up at Grandmother.

  "A good child," said Grandmother approvingly. "I'm sure you will bedownstairs to-morrow."

  Now to-morrow had come, and Susan, slipping out of bed and into her warmrosy wrapper and slippers, trotted downstairs in search of some one.

  She found Grandmother quite alone, save for a delicious smell in the airof roasting turkey. Grandmother was busy baking, but she stopped longenough to help Susan dress and to answer a few of the questions thattumbled pell-mell from Susan's lips.

  "Where is Grandfather? Gone to Thanksgiving service at church. You sleptlate this morning, Susan. When will Phil be home? Not for two weeks.They have all gone to his grandfather's for Thanksgiving, and they meanto visit his Great-Uncle Fred, who gave him his electric train, on theirway back."

  "Is any one coming here for Thanksgiving, Grandmother?" asked Susan,delicately eating a bowl of bread and milk for breakfast from one end ofthe table on which Mrs. Whiting was stirring up a cake.

  "Miss Liza is coming," answered Mrs. Whiting, stopping her work andputting down her spoon. "I may as well tell you now, Susan, I suppose.Miss Lunette is married."

  Susan looked at Grandmother for a moment without speaking. How unkind ofMiss Lunette to have a wedding while she was away!

  "Didn't she save me any cake?" she asked at length. "Did Phil go to thewedding?"

  "There wasn't any wedding, Susan, or any cake," answered Mrs. Whiting."No one was invited but Miss Liza. They stood up in the parlor and Mr.Drew married them. Then they went off to Green Valley, where her husbandlives."

  "Maybe she will ask me to come to see her there," said Susan hopefully.

  "Perhaps she will," said Grandmother. "It may be the making of her,Susan," she went on, half to herself. "She certainly was full of whimsand crotchets, and would try the patience of any one but a saint likeMiss Liza. Your Grandfather always said that all she needed was hardwork, and I think she will have it now, for her husband was a widowerwith three children and an old mother, too. It may make a woman of her.I hope so, I'm sure. I know things won't be so hard for Miss Liza, andI'm glad of that."

  And Grandmother beat her batter with such determination that her cheeksgrew pink and her little white curls bobbed up and down in time with thebeating.

  "Is Flip coming with Miss Liza?" asked Susan.

  "Um-um," was all Grandmother answered.

  So Susan put away her little bowl and went into the front hall to callupon her friend the newel post.

  "You ought to be dressed up for Thanksgiving," decided Susan, strokingher friend's bulky form. "Which do you like best, pink or blue? Pink,did you say? Then Snowball shall wear a blue ribbon and you shall have apink one on your neck to celebrate the day."

  Susan spent some time selecting and arranging the ribbons to suit thetaste of all concerned. She then found the table set for Thanksgivingdinner, so she posted herself in the front window where she could lookall the way down the lane to the gate and report to Grandmother themoment old Nero's Roman nose was visible.

  She watched and watched, and at last they came jogging along, Miss Lizawell wrapped up against the cold November air that had a "feel" of snowin it, and Grandfather wearing his fur-lined gloves for the first timethis season, Susan observed.

  In came Miss Liza, while Grandfather drove on to the barn, and toSusan's delight Miss Liza carried a big bundle which she placed in thelittle girl's outstretched arms.

  "It's Flip," Susan repeated joyfully. "I know it's Flip. It's my Flip."

  Yes, it was Flip, but a Flip so changed, so beautified, so transformedthat only the members of her own family would have known her.

  In the first place, her face and hands, which had grown a dingy brown,had become several shades lighter, producing a fresh, youthfulappearance heretofore sorely lacking. Her bald head had blossomed out ina beautiful crop of worsted hair, in color a rich garnet-brown.

  "Miss Lunette always used that color for her worsted hens," Miss Lizaexplained, "and I thought it would make real pretty-looking hair forFlip."

  Susan was delighted with the effect. She smiled radiantly at Miss Liza.But when she examined her child's complete new wardrobe, she put Flippydown on the couch, and flung her arms first around Miss Liza and thenabout Grandmother's neck.

  For Flippy wore a new set of underwear, even to a red flannel petticoattrimmed with red crocheted lace. She wore a brown cloth dress,elaborately decorated with yellow feather-stitching. But, most beautifulof all, about her sloping shoulders was a dark-blue cape, lined withscarlet satin and edged with narrow black fur; upon her head was tied adark-blue fur-trimmed cap to match, from under which her garnet worstedhair peeped coyly; and, oh, crowning touch! about her neck upon a ribbonhung a black fur muff.

  Susan's excitement and delight were such that even Thanksgiving dinnerseemed of little importance compared with this unexpected trousseau ofFlippy Whiting. Susan did manage to sit still in her chair at the table,but she turned every moment or two to smile happily upon Flip, whoreturned her glances with proud and conscious looks.

  "One square inch of turkey for Miss Susan Whiting," announcedGrandfather, when at last her turn came to be served, "and a thimblefulof mashed potato, one crumb of bread, and an acorn cup of milk. And thatis all the dinner you get, if I have anything to say about it."

  And Grandfather brandished the carving knife and looked so severe thatSusan went off into a fit of laughter in which every one joined.

  "Were there many out at church this morning?" asked Grandmother. "WasMr. Drew's sermon good?"

  "Oh, that reminds me," said Grandfather, "that I have to go out thisafternoon. I promised Parson Drew that I would take something to eatdown to the Widow Banks. The Young People's Society gave her fivedollars to buy a Thanksgiving dinner for herself and her six children,and if she didn't go spend the five dollars on a crepe veil and aBible."

  Grandfather gave a chuckle as he thought of the surprise that the WidowBanks had given the Young People.

  "I don't blame her," said he stoutly. "She probably takes more pride andpleasure in what she bought than we can imagine. The neighbors won't lether starve. You fix up a good basket for her, won't you, Grandmother?"

  And that Mrs. Whiting did, though she shook her head over what shetermed "extravagance and shiftlessness."

  A little later, Susan and Mr. Whiting, who carried a large basket, thecontents of which would mean far more to the six hungry Banks orphansthan would a crepe veil and a Bible, started down Featherbed Lane ontheir charitable errand.

  "The air will do Susan good," Grandfather declared. "And if she istired, I will carry her home. It isn't far, anyway."

  Susan enjoyed both the walk and the short call they made at the dingylittle white house in the Hollow.

  Mrs. Banks, a thin, tearful wisp of a woman, with pale-blue eyes anduntidy hair, gratefully accepted their offering; and the six sorrowfullittle Banks cheered up immediately when word went round as to what thebasket held, so their visitors made haste to be gone, that they might bekept no longer from their Thanksgiving feast.

  While Mr. Whiting talked to Mrs. Banks, Susan gazed round the poorlittle room, and eyed the Banks orphans standing in a row like steps,who, to do them justice, quite as frankly eyed her in return. The crepeveil was not in evidence, but on the mantelpiece lay the new Bible,black and shiny, and smelling powerfully of leather.

  "Yes, six of them," said Mrs. Banks in her melancholy voice, waving herhand at the line, which looked more dejected than ever when attentionwas thus directed to it. "And not on
e of them old enough to do a strokeof work or to earn a penny."

  "This is Richie," she went on, pointing to the tallest son of Banks, whodug his bare toes into the floor in an agony of embarrassment. "He's theflower of the family. He will amount to something. He never opens hismouth for a word. He's like me.

  "And this is Mervin. He eats like a fish. And his brother Claudius isnot far behind him. I gave them their names, for I do like arich-sounding name. Mr. Banks wasn't of my way of thinking. He was allfor plain, commonsense names. He named the next two,--Maria and AlsoJane."

  "'Also,' did you say?" inquired Mr. Whiting, who was thoroughly enjoyinghis call. "That is a name new to me."

  "It was a mistake," explained Mrs. Banks dolefully. "The two girls werechristened together, and, after Maria was baptized, the minister turnedto Jane and, says he, 'Also Jane Banks,' and 'Also Jane' she has been tothis day, for her father wouldn't go against the minister's word foranything in the world."

  "What is the baby's name?" asked Mr. Whiting, preparing to depart.

  "Her name is a compromise," answered Mrs. Banks, pulling out her damphandkerchief to wipe the baby's eyes which had instantly overflowed athearing herself called a "mean name," as she whimpered into her mother'sear. "To please me we named her Cleopatra, but we always call her Pat,her father was such a one for plain names."

  When Mr. Whiting and Susan reached home they found Grandmother and MissLiza rocking placidly before a roaring fire, and room was made forGrandfather's chair with Susan on a cricket at his feet.

  "Now, we will tell what we are most thankful for," said Grandmother,when the story of the call at the Banks' had been related, and a way ofhelping Mrs. Banks support her six children had been discussed. "Youbegin, Miss Liza."

  "I'm thankful," said Miss Liza, without a moment's hesitation, "for goodfriends, for health, and a home."

  "I'm most thankful," said Grandmother, "for Grandfather, and Susan, anda peaceful life. I couldn't live in strife with any one."

  Grandfather thrust his boots out toward the fire and pulled his silkhandkerchief from his pocket.

  "I'm thankful," said he, carefully spreading his handkerchief over hishead, "I'm thankful for my home, and that means Grandmother and Susan,and I'm thankful, too, that I have my own teeth. I mean it, I'm notjoking." And he soberly snapped his strong white teeth together withouta smile.

  "I'm thankful," piped up Susan, glad her turn had come, "forGrandfather, and Grandmother, and Miss Liza, and Snuff, and Flip, andNero, and--"

  Grandfather caught her up from the cricket and held her in his arms.

  "My black-eyed Susan," said he, tenderly.

  Susan looked round with a smile.

  "I think," said she,--"I think I'm thankful--why, I think I'm thankfulfor just everything."

  THE END