CHAPTER VIII.
ANNIE LOVEJOY.
But the day was not over yet. The bright sun and blue sky were doingwhat they could to make a cheerful time of it, but it seemed as if Susyfell more deeply into trouble, as the hours passed on.
There are such days in everybody's life, when it rains small vexationsfrom morning till night, and when all we can do is to hope for betterthings to-morrow.
It was Wednesday; and in the afternoon, Flossy Eastman came over with anew game, and while the little girls, Flossy, Susy and Prudy wereplaying it, and trying their best to keep Dotty Dimple's prying fingersand long curls out of the way, in came Miss Annie Lovejoy.
This was a little neighbor, who, as the children sometimes privatelydeclared, was "always 'round." Mrs. Parlin had her own private doubtsabout the advantages to be derived from her friendship, and hadsometimes gone so far as to send her home, when she seemed more thanusually in the way.
Annie's mother lived next door, but all Mrs. Parlin knew of her, waswhat she could see and hear from her own windows; and that little wasnot very agreeable. She saw that Mrs. Love joy dressed in gaudy colors,and loaded herself with jewelry; and she could hear her scold herservants and children with a loud, shrill voice.
The two ladies had never exchanged calls; but Annie, it seemed, had fewplaymates, and she clung to Susy with such a show of affection, that Mrs.Parlin could not forbid her visits, although she watched her closely;anxious, as a careful mother should be, to make sure she was a propercompanion for her little daughter. So far she had never known her to sayor do anything morally wrong, though her manners were not exactly thoseof a well-bred little girl.
This afternoon, when the new game was broken up by the entrance ofAnnie, the children began the play of housekeeping, because Prudy couldjoin in it. Susy found she enjoyed any amusement much more when itpleased the little invalid.
"I will be the lady of the house," said Annie, promptly, "because I haverings on my fingers, and a coral necklace. My name is Mrs. Piper.Prudy,--no, Rosy,--you shall be Mrs. Shotwell, come a-visiting me;because you can't do anything else. We'll make believe you've lost yourhusband in the wars. I know a Mrs. Shotwell, and she is always_taking-on_, and saying, 'My poor dear husband,' under her handkerchief;just this way."
The children laughed at the nasal twang which Annie gave to the words,and Prudy imitated it to perfection, not knowing it was wrong.
"Well, what shall I be?" said Susy, not very well pleased that the firstcharacters had been taken already.
"O, you shall be a hired girl, and wear a handkerchief on your head,just as our girl does; and you must be a little deaf, and keep saying,'What, ma'am?' when I speak to you."
"And I," said Florence, "will be Mr. Peter Piper, the head of thefamily."
"Yes," returned Annie, "you can put on a waterproof cloak, and you willmake quite a good-looking husband; but I shall be the head of the familymyself, and have things about as I please!"
"Well, there," cried Flossy, slipping her arms into the sleeves of hercloak, "I don't know about that; I don't think it's very polite for youto treat your husband in that way."
Flossy wanted to have the control of family matters herself.
"But I believe in 'Woman's Rights,'" said Annie, with a toss of thehead, "and if there's anything I despise, it is a _man_ meddling aboutthe house."
Here little Dotty began to cause a disturbance, by sticking afruit-knife into the edges of the "what-not," and making a whirringnoise.
"I wouldn't do so, Dotty," said Susy, going up to her; "it troubles us;and, besides, I'm afraid it will break the knife."
"I don't allow my hired girl to interfere with my children," saidAnnie, speaking up in the character of Mrs. Piper; "I am mistress of thehouse, I'd have you to know! There, little daughter, they shan't plagueher; she shall keep on doing mischief; so she shall!"
Dotty needed no coaxing to keep on doing mischief, but hit the musicalknife harder than ever, giving it a dizzy motion, like the clapper in amill.
Prudy was quite annoyed by the sound, but did not really know whether tobe nervous or not, and concluded to express her vexation in groans: thegroans she was giving in memory of the departed Mr. Shotwell, who haddied of a "cannon bullet."
"My good Mrs. Shotwell," said Mrs. Piper, trying to "makeconversation," "I think I have got something in my eye: will you pleasetell me how it looks?"
"O," said Prudy, peeping into it, "your eye looks very well, ma'am;don't you '_xcuse_ it; it looks well enough for _me_."
"Ahem!" said Mrs. Piper, laughing, and settling her head-dress, whichwas Susy's red scarf: "are your feet warm, Mrs. Shotwell?"
"Thank you, ma'am," replied Prudy, "I don't feel 'em cold. O, dear, ifyour husband was all deaded up, I guess you'd cry, Mrs. Piper."
Susy and Flossy looked at each other, and smiled. They thought Prudyseemed more like herself than they had known her for a long time.
"You must go right out of the parlor, Betsey," said Mrs. Piper,flourishing the poker; "I mean you, Susy--the parlor isn't any place forhired girls."
"Ma'am?" said Susy, inclining her head to one side, in order to hearbetter.
"O, dear! the plague of having a deaf girl!" moaned Mrs. Piper. "Youdon't know how trying it is, Mrs. Shotwell! That hired girl, Betsey,hears with her elbows, Mrs. Shotwell; I verily believe she does!"
"O, no, ma'am," replied Prudy; "I guess she doesn't hear with herelbows, does she? If she _heard_ with her elbows, she wouldn't have toask you over again!"
This queer little speech set Mr. Piper and his wife, and their servant,all to laughing, and Betsey looked at her elbows, to see if they were inthe right place.
"Will you please, ma'am," said Prudy, "ask Betsey to _hot_ a flatiron?I've cried my handkerchief all up!"
"Yes; go right out, Betsey, and _hot_ a flatiron," said Mrs. Piper, veryhospitably. "Go out, this instant, and build a fire, Betsey."
"Yes, go right out, Betsey," echoed Mr. Piper, who could find nothingbetter to do than to repeat his wife's words; for, in spite of himself,she did appear to be the "head of the family."
"It was my darlin' husband's handkerchief," sobbed Prudy.
"Rather a small one for a man," said Mr. Piper, laughing.
"Well," replied Prudy, rather quick for a thought, "my husband had avery small nose!"
Mrs. Piper tried to make more "conversation."
"O, Mrs. Shotwell, you ought to be exceeding thankful you're a widow,and don't keep house! I think my hired girls will carry down my grayhairs to the grave! The last one I had was Irish, and very Catholic."
Prudy groaned for sympathy, and wiped her eyes on that corner of herhandkerchief which was supposed to be not quite "cried up."
"Yes, indeed, it was awful," continued Mrs. Piper; "for she was alwaysgoing to masses and mass-meetings; and there couldn't anybody die butthey must be 'waked,' you know."
"Why, I didn't know they could be waked up when they was dead," saidPrudy, opening her eyes.
"O, but they only _make believe_ you can wake 'em," said Mrs. Piper; "ofcourse it isn't true! For my part, I don't believe a word an Irish girlsays, any way."
"Hush, my child," she continued, turning to Dotty, who was nowsharpening the silver knife on the edges of the iron grate. "Betsey, whyin the world don't you see to that baby? I believe you are losing yourmind!"
"That makes me think," said Prudy, suddenly breaking in with a newidea; "what do you s'pose the reason is folks can't be waked up? Whatmakes 'em stay in heaven all the days, and nights, and years, and nevercome down here to see anybody, not a minute?"
"What an idea!" said Annie. "I'm sure I don't know."
"Well, I've been a thinkin'," said Prudy, answering her own question,"that when God has sended 'em up to the sky, they like to stay up therethe best. It's a nicer place, a great deal nicer place, up to God'shouse."
"O, yes, of course," replied Annie, "but our play--"
"I've been a thinkin'," continued Prudy, "that when I go up to God's
house, I shan't wear the splint. I can run all over the house, and he'llbe willing I should go up stairs, and down cellar, you know."
Prudy sighed. Sometimes she almost longed for "God's house."
"Well, let's go on with our play," said Annie, impatiently. "It's mostsupper-time, Mrs. Shotwell. Come in, Betsey."
"Ma'am?" said Betsey, appearing at the door, and turning up one ear,very much as if it were a dipper, in which she expected to catch thewords which dropped from the lips of her mistress. "Betsey, have youattended to your sister--to my little child, I mean? Then go out andmake some sassafras cakes, and some eel-pie, and some squirrel-soup;and set the table in five minutes: do you hear?"
"Ma'am?" said the deaf servant; "what did you say about ginger-bread?"
Susy did not like her part of the game; but she played it as well as shecould, and let Annie manage everything, because that was what pleasedAnnie.
"O, how stupid Betsey is!" said Mr. Piper, coming to the aid of hiswife. "Mrs. Piper says eel-jumbles, and sassafras-pie, and pound-cake;all made in five minutes!"
Here everybody laughed, and Prudy, suddenly remembering her part,sighed, and said,--
"O, my darlin' husband used to like jumble-pie! I've forgot to cry forever so long!"
Susy began to set the table, and went into the nursery for some cake andcookies, which were kept in an old tin chest, on purpose for this playof housekeeping, which had now been carried on regularly every Wednesdayand Saturday afternoon, for some time.
Susy opened the cake-chest, and found nothing in it but a few drycookies: the fruit-cake was all gone. Who could have eaten it? NotFlossy, for she had a singular dislike for raisins and currants, andnever so much as tasted fruit-cake. Not Prudy, for the poor little thinghad grown so lame by this time, that she was unable to bear her weighton her feet, much less to walk into the nursery. Dotty could not be thethief. Her baby-conscience was rather tough and elastic, and I supposeshe would have felt no more scruples about nibbling nice things, than anunprincipled little mouse.
But, then Dotty couldn't reach the cake-chest; so she was certainlyinnocent.
Then Susy remembered in a moment that it was Annie: Annie had run intothe house morning and night, and had often said, "I'm right hungry. I'mgoing to steal a piece of our cake!"
So it seemed that Annie had eaten it _all_. Susy ran back to Prudy'ssitting-room, where her little guests were seated, and said, trying notto laugh,--
"Please, ma'am, I just made some eel-jumbles and things, and a dog camein and stole them."
"Very well, Betsey," said Mrs. Piper, serenely; "make some more."
"Yes, make some more," echoed Mr. Piper; and added, "chain up that dog."
"But real honest true," said Susy, "the fruit-cake _is_ all gone out ofthe chest. You ate it up, you know, Annie; but it's no matter: we'll cutup some cookies, or, may be, mother'll let us have someoyster-crackers."
"_I_ ate up the cake!" cried Annie; "It's no such a thing; I nevertouched it!" Her face flushed as she spoke.
"O, but you did," persisted Susy; "I suppose you've forgotten! You wentto the cake-chest this morning, and last night, and yesterday noon, andever so many more times."
Annie was too angry to speak.
"But it's just as well," added Susy, politely; "you could have it aswell as not, and perfectly welcome!"
"What are you talking about?" cried Annie, indignantly; for she thoughtshe saw a look of surprise and contempt on Flossy's face, and fanciedthat Flossy despised her because she had a weakness for fruit-cake.
"I wonder if you take me for a pig, Susy Parlin! I heard what yourmother said about that cake! She said it was too dry for her company,but it was too rich for little girls, and we must only eat a _teeny_speck at a time. I told my mamma, and she laughed, to think such meandried-up cake was too rich for little girls!"
Susy felt her temper rising, but her desire to be polite did not deserther.
"It _was_ rich, nice cake, Annie; but mother said the slices had beencut a great while, and it was drying up. Let's not talk any more aboutit."
"O, but I _shall_ talk more about it," cried Annie, still moreirritated; "you keep hinting that I tell wrong stories and steal cake;yes, you do! and then you ain't willing to let me speak!"
All this sounded like righteous indignation, but was only anger. Anniewas entirely in the wrong, and knew it; therefore she lost her temper.
Susy had an unusual amount of self-control at this time, merely becauseshe had the truth on her side. But her dignified composure only vexedAnnie the more.
"I won't stay here to be imposed upon, and told that I'm a liar and athief; so I won't! I'll go right home this very minute, and tell mymother just how you treat your company!"
And, in spite of all Susy could say, Annie threw on her hood and cloak,and flounced out of the room; forgetting, in her wrath, to take offSusy's red scarf, which was still festooned about her head.
"Well, I'm glad she's gone," said Flossy, coolly, as the door closedwith a slam. "She's a bold thing, and my mother wouldn't like me to playwith her, if she knew how she acts! She said 'victuals' for food, andthat isn't _elegant_, mother says. What right had she to set up and sayshe'd be Mrs. Piper? So forward!"
After all, this was the grievous part of the whole to Flossy,--that shehad to take an inferior part in the play.
"But I'm _sorry_ she's gone," said Susy, uneasily. "I don't like to haveher go and tell that I wasn't polite."
"You _was_ polite," chimed in little Prudy, from the sofa; "a great dealpoliter'n she was! I wouldn't care, if I would be you, Susy. I don'twish Annie was dead, but I wish she was a duck a-sailin' on the water!"
The children went back to the game they had been playing before Anniecame; but the interest was quite gone. Their quick-tempered littleguest had been a "_kill-joy_" in spite of her name.
But the afternoon was not over yet. What happened next, I will tell youin another chapter.