CHAPTER XVI
PARTY FROCKS
Thanksgiving Day went by quietly; there was little made of it here in Virginia, and the girls would scarcely have remembered it if their mother had not written asking each one to tell her what she was most thankful for. The answers were very characteristic.
Jean wrote: "I am thankful that the wildcat didn't get Phil and Mary Lee, and that Daniella is here. I am thankful that her mother and my mother are both getting better."
Jack wrote: "I am thankful that I don't like rice pudding and that I do like molasses on my batter cakes. I am thankful that old clothes don't last as long as new ones, and that people don't make such a fuss when you get spots on them or tear them. I am thankful I don't get into quite so many scrapes in winter as I do in summer."
Mary Lee's thankfulness was expressed in these words: "I am thankful that little wild creatures have warm holes and nests to creep into. I am thankful that birds can fly south where it is warm. I am thankful we have enough to eat and to keep us comfortable, and I am thankful we do not have to live in a little cabin on the mountain, and dear mother, I am very thankful you are getting better."
Said Nan: "I am thankful, you dearest of mothers, for so many things I don't know how to choose, but first and foremost I am thankful for you. I might as well say, too, that I am thankful for all my kinsfolk, for I am even thankful now for Aunt Sarah, since I had to cook that supper for the boys and since she nursed me so patiently when I broke my arm. I certainly am thankful for Aunt Helen. She is such a dear. You know she is teaching Daniella, and, yes, I am thankful for grandmother, if she is cranky. I am thankful for the whole world, for music, for books, for pictures, for trees and flowers and sky, and even the snow on the ground. It looks so perfectly pure and clean and makes me think of white souls. I am thankful for all these things, but oh, mother, I shall be thankfuller, thankfullest when you get home."
Though the letters eased the mother's loneliness, they brought a rain of tears to her eyes, and filled her with longing to see her four girls. "They are so like them," she murmured. "Each one has written herself so plainly."
Daniella's becoming a part of the household made less of a change than the girls had expected, for Aunt Sarah managed well, and spread out her economies so that they covered all meals very slightly, and the extras were little missed. When one has rice pudding once a week instead of once in ten days, or when griddle-cakes are served only on Saturdays instead of Wednesdays and Saturdays, it really makes little difference.
However a time did come when the sacrifice loomed up more largely and for a time there were four rather unhappy little girls. It was just after a neat maid left at the door four small white envelopes which, when opened, were discovered to be invitations to a party given by Betty Wise, a little girl who was not an intimate acquaintance, but whom each of the four Corners admired greatly. Betty lived in such a beautiful old house, two hundred years old, and was considered to belong to one of the best families in the county. The grounds around the house were always in beautiful order; Betty herself was the most daintily clad of little maidens, and in church the four girls who sat in a row in the pew behind her gave many a thought to Betty Wise's pretty hats, handsome coats, and the delicate ribbons she always wore on her hair. To be invited to Judge Wise's house was an honor not to be underrated and the four Corners clutched their envelopes and looked at each other with shining eyes.
"Isn't it splendid?" said Nan. "A real sure enough party. I expect it will be perfectly beautiful. It was so perfectly lovely of Betty to invite all four of us."
"It certainly was lovely," sighed Mary Lee, "but, Nan, what are we going to wear?"
Nan's face fell. What indeed? She hastily made an inventory of her last summer's white frocks. Not one that would do. "We can manage something for Jack and Jean, I am sure," she said, "though there isn't one of us has a decent sash, and as for slippers, Jean is the only one who has a pair that will do."
Deep gloom fell upon the little group. The silence was broken by Mary Lee. "We can't ask Aunt Sarah, for we promised that we would not have a single thing new this winter if she would let us have Daniella. I almost wish we had never gone up that old mountain."
"Oh, don't say that, Mary Lee," said Nan. "Just think what would have become of Daniella if we hadn't gone. She might have perished by this time."
"Oh, of course, I don't exactly mean that, but I wish, I almost wish, we had not insisted upon keeping her here." It was so nearly the actual wish at that moment of the other three that no one said a word.
After a pause, Nan drew a long sigh. "Well," she said, "you and I can't possibly go, but perhaps we can fix up the twins. Jean is all right and there is a frock of yours that would do on a pinch for Jack if we can manage slippers. We can look over the stock. She may have grown up to some of our castaways, and even if we should find a pair a little too large, we can stuff cotton in the toes. As for sashes we'll have to look over everything and see what we come across."
"I don't want to go if you don't, so there," said Jack.
"Neither do I," chimed in Jean.
"Oh, but some of us must go. We couldn't be so rude as to decline for all four of us," said Nan. "Besides, I shall want to hear all about it even if I can't go. It is ten days off so I am not going to decline till I have to."
"I suppose there is no use in saying anything to Aunt Sarah about it," said Mary Lee with a glimmer of hope.
Nan shook her head. "No, we must not act as if we were trying to slide out of our promise. I was just thinking that perhaps Cousin Polly could lend us one or two sashes, and perhaps a pair of slippers; she has such little feet, but she couldn't provide for all of us. She is generous enough but she hasn't enough to go around."
"She could let us have two pairs of slippers if she were a craudruped," said Jean.
"You'd better tell her that," said Nan, laughing.
"Invitations came for Ran and Ashby, too," Mary Lee remarked, "and I suppose Phil has one." Deeper gloom fell upon the group especially when Nan said solemnly: "And the boys will have to know why we can't go."
For the next two or three days, the girls avoided the subject of the party when those of their schoolmates who had received invitations spoke of it. Neither was it mentioned in the presence of the boys. Once in a while one or the other of the four sisters made to the rest some tragic statement such as: "Flossy Garrett is going to wear white China silk." "Lizzie Carter has a new Roman sash," or "Nell Page's sister is going to lend her a lovely locket and chain." Deep sighs and mournful countenances always attended these statements.
With a feeling of proud reserve, Nan never referred to the party when talking to her Aunt Helen. Not for worlds would she so much as hint that she might go if properly costumed; not when that store of pretty things still lay untouched and unbestowed.
Jack, however, had no such scruples, and with a distinct purpose and a defiant front, she went one afternoon to Uplands. Seating herself directly in front of her grandmother she observed her solemnly and thoughtfully.
"You seem to be in a brown study this afternoon, Jack," said Mrs. Corner. "What are you thinking about?"
Jack gave a long sigh. "I was thinking how nice it would be if there were really fairies or if there were really enchanted lamps and things like Nan loves to talk about. Anyhow, I wish we could sometimes change places with people."
"And with whom would you change places?" asked her grandmother, ready to encourage her to talk.
"With you," returned Jack.
"With me?" Mrs. Corner looked perfectly astounded, then she sighed. "You'd soon want to change back again, little Jack."
"Oh, I know that. I shouldn't care to be a grandmother for more than an hour."
"But why wish to be a grandmother at all?" Mrs. Corner's curiosity was aroused. She wondered what the little girl's fancy could be. "Do listen to the child, Helen," she said. "She would like to be her own grandmother."
"Oh, I'd like to be Nan's and Mary Lee's and Jean's, too," Jack told her.
"But why?"
"If I were a grandmother and had four nice little girl grandchildren," Jack went on, "I'd do something or other so they could go to the party at Judge Wise's."
"And why can't they go? What's to prevent?" Mrs. Corner asked.
"No frocks, no sashes, no slippers, no money to buy them with," said Jack, and having delivered herself of this laconic confession, she faced her grandmother with a set expression of countenance. The worst was said.
Mrs. Corner's delicate fingers trembled in the wool she was crocheting.
"Who is giving the party?" said Miss Helen gently. "Tell me all about it, Jack."
"It's to be at Judge Wise's. Betty is going to have it and it certainly will be fine. Maybe Jean and I can go if Cousin Polly's slippers will fit and she will lend us two sashes, but Nan says she and Mary Lee are just obliged and compelled to stay at home because they wouldn't be seen in dowdy old frocks and old high shoes."
A little pink flush burned on Mrs. Corner's cheeks. "Mary Lee has never been near her grandmother," she said. "You could hardly expect me to forget that."
"I wasn't saying anything about your doing things," said Jack ingenuously. "I was only saying what I would do if I were a grandmother and had lovely things put away, and had granddaughters just crazy to go to a party. I shouldn't mind when three of them had been polite if one wouldn't be, and I don't see why they all would have to be done mean on account of one."
Jack sat thoughtfully considering the matter. "I reckon," she said, "Mary Lee is something like you. She wouldn't come here unless you specially asked her, and you wouldn't go to see her unless she specially asked you. If mother were at home she would do something, 'cause mother can do anything; she is as near a fairy that way as any one can be, but you know mother isn't here, and we can't do things ourselves and Aunt Sarah won't. You know," she added, "it's all on account of Daniella. We promised Aunt Sarah if she let us keep Daniella at our house, we wouldn't ask for anything new this winter, and we would wear our old clothes. So, of course, when we promised, we can't change our minds."
"Why did your aunt exact such a promise from you?" asked Mrs. Corner, a little haughtily.
"Oh, because she couldn't afford to have her unless we did. Mother needs all the boys' board money, and Aunt Sarah does as well as she can, Nan says. We have rice pudding only once a week and that really isn't very often."
"Miss Dent is a wonderfully self-sacrificing woman," said Miss Helen in a low voice. "It is entirely due to her willingness to take charge of six children that Mary is able to stay at Saranac."
Mrs. Corner's fingers shook even more as she fingered the wool. Presently she burst out passionately: "I suppose I am an obdurate old woman to let one little child's indifference prevent me from giving happiness to my other grandchildren, but I am made so, Helen; I can't help it. I have yielded in many directions. I have accepted the other three when I said I never would, and I shall meet their mother half way if she ever allows me." She burst into a fit of nervous sobbing, and Jack, scared and awed, slipped away, feeling that she had made matters even worse.
She made no mention to her sisters of her visit to Uplands that day, but it had its effect, as was shown the next morning when a man left at the house a small trunk addressed to Nan. When the girls came home from school, it stood in the big room they occupied. They gathered around it in astonishment. "Where did it come from? Who brought it? What's in it? Who sent it?" The questions came thick and fast. A key hung by a string to the handle. Nan jerked it off fumbling at the lock in her eagerness. "Do hurry, Nan," cried Jack, impatiently.
"I am hurrying," returned Nan, "and that is just what's the matter." The lock at last yielded and Nan raised the lid amid breathless silence. Over the tray lay a white cloth; upon this a note was pinned. Nan opened it and read it aloud. It was from her Aunt Helen.
"Dear Nan," it read, "mother sends you the gifts which she regrets having withheld from you so long. She really meant to send them at Christmas, but you will not mind if they come earlier. She wishes you to use your own judgment in disposing of them and makes but one proviso, and that is that you will all come over to Uplands and show yourselves in your party costumes."
The all was underscored. Nan looked at Mary Lee. "I'll go," said Mary Lee shortly.
It was a small concession to make, she considered, when the contents of the trunk were displayed and all the dainty fabrics were examined. Such an oh-ing and ah-ing as came from the four delighted girls brought Aunt Sarah from her room, and to her the whole story was told. She made but few remarks but it was evident that she was pleased, and she took almost as great an interest in the pretty things as the girls themselves. At the very bottom of the trunk were two boxes, one marked Nan, the other Jack. One slip of paper read: "To my granddaughter Nancy Weston in recognition of her sweet spirit of forgiveness." The other read: "To brave little Jack who reminded her grandmother of her duty."
"What have you been doing, Jack?" asked Nan, before she removed the lid of her box.
"Nothing," replied Jack in an injured tone, "except to tell her what I would do if I were a grandmother to four nice little girls."
"Oh, Jack, Jack," laughed Nan, shaking her head while her fingers eagerly removed the soft cotton which lay on the top of the box. Then she breathed a delighted "Oh!" as she held up to view a long delicate chain of exquisite pink corals. A squeal from Jack revealed the fact that she had reached her gift which proved to be a slender gold chain with a pendant heart of gold set with turquoises.
Jack speedily clasped it around her neck. The chain was just long enough for her to be able to see the little heart as it lay against her breast. "I never, never believed I should ever have anything so dear," she exclaimed. Then she turned and caught her twin sister's hand. "But I won't wear it," she said, "unless you have something, too."
This something, too, was settled upon later when among the strands of Venetian beads was found a string of glistening, opalescent ones which won Jean's heart. Mary Lee's desires went out toward a similar string of blue and silver. As was natural with children, the ornaments were the first things they decided upon, and then they picked out their frocks, Aunt Sarah helping them. Nan chose a soft, silky, creamy fabric daintily embroidered. Mary Lee selected a blue of similar material. For the twins it was decided that pure white would be best. There were ribbons and sashes enough for all, and, to cap the climax, there were several pairs of silk stockings.
Nan rocked back and forth in ecstasy as she sat on the floor surrounded by the stuffs. "It's like a dream," she said. "I can't believe I am awake. Oh, I want to tell mother right away. I feel just like a fairy, I am so light."
"How are we to get the things made?" said Mary Lee, bringing her sister suddenly down to earth.
"Oh, dear, I hadn't thought of that. Cousin Polly will help us, I know, and so will Aunt Sarah, and we can do a lot ourselves, like pulling out bastings, and I can stitch on the machine as well as the next."
"We must go right over to Cousin Polly's, then. There isn't a minute to lose."
"You go," said Nan, "and bring her over here. She will be ever so much more interested if she sees everything and I'll leave them all out till she comes."
Not only did Cousin Polly come, but Cousin Mag thought she must see the glories of the trunkful of pretty things. Their enthusiasm was all that the girls could wish, and after ribbons and laces, trinkets and treasures were thoroughly examined, there was grave discussion as to the best way to make up the stuffs, Aunt Sarah entering into it as heartily as any one. Cousin Polly volunteered to make Nan's frock; Cousin Mag said she would undertake Mary Lee's. Aunt Sarah thought she could accomplish one of the others.
"And I am sure Belle Brockenborough will love to do the other," said Polly. "She hasn't a thing on earth to do. I'll ask her to come and stay a week with me and we can sew and chatter and have a good time. Anybody would love to work on such beautiful goods as these."
"Oh, you dear," cried Nan. "I just knew if anybody could help us, it would be Cousin Polly. Aren't we beautifully supplied with everything?"
"All but slippers," came from Mary Lee.
"Oh, I forgot slippers. I wish we could go in our stocking feet and show off our silk stockings."
"We'll manage slippers somehow," said Polly. "I am sure you can wear mine."
"But you have such little feet," said Nan.
"So have you, and I have one pair a little too large for me, that you are quite welcome to if the others are too small."
In due course of time, all were provided for. The "little too large" pair of slippers exactly fitted Nan. Jean's would do very well as they were. A pair of Mary Lee's which she had grown out of it was found Jack had grown into, and for Mary Lee, Nan's ingenuity at last came to the rescue, for a pair of discolored white kid slippers which had once been her mother's, Nan suggested should be painted blue to match her sister's frock.
The boys wondered at the sudden interest taken in Betty Wise's party, for nothing else was talked of for a week. "You didn't say a word about it at first," said Ran. "What makes you all so wild about it all of a sudden?"
"Oh, we didn't know what we were going to wear," Nan remarked nonchalantly, and the others giggled.
However, they could not keep the presents a secret, as Phil knew about them, and finally Nan told Ran the whole story, ending with: "We're just like girls in a book, aren't we?"
"You're the nicest girl in a book or out of it," returned Ran, gallantly. "I'm going to the party with you, Nan, and I want you to dance with me a lot."
"All right," said Nan, delighted at the compliment and pleased at the thought that she and her sisters would not be outdone by any of the girls in matters of dress or attention.
The last stitch was set the day before the party, and in full regalia the four sisters went to display themselves to their grandmother. There was a little embarrassment as Mary Lee came forward and Nan said: "This is Mary Lee, grandmother."
But Mary Lee, full of a realizing sense of her grandmother's generosity and completely happy in her pretty clothes, smiled sweetly and said: "I am very glad to see you, grandmother. You were very kind to send us all those lovely things."
Mrs. Corner responded quite graciously. She was proud and pleased when she viewed the four "nice little girls" who certainly did her credit and whose delight in her gifts was so very obvious. Their appreciation and pleasure gave her a warm glow of satisfaction, and she was never more delightfully entertaining. To add to the success of their visit, Miss Helen took a photograph of each one, promising them prints to send to their mother.
The party was all that their fancy had painted. Not any one was better dressed than the Corners. No one had a better time. Betty made a charming hostess; the great old house was a bower of beauty; the music was inspiring, the refreshments delicious and prettily served.
"It was the very grandest party I ever dreamed of," said Nan at breakfast, and all agreed with her, even Ran who had been to more parties than the rest and was supposed to know.
Although the girls, in after years, went to many more sumptuous and brilliant entertainments, all their lives long they looked back upon Betty Wise's party as the one which stood out from all the rest. "There was just one thing wanting," sighed Nan to her Aunt Helen. "If only mother could have seen us, I should have been perfectly happy. What in the world shall we do without her at Christmas?"