CHAPTER V
THE RUMMAGE SALE
SUMMER vacation! Although the Field Day exercises, and the fewCommencement festivities to which undergraduates are invited, were onlyfour days past, classes and lessons seemed to the Quartet never to haveexisted; or if so, only in a dream. And it would be the same way whencollege began again in the fall. Summer, of a few days before, would bea dim memory of the past.
Though they had not heard from their examinations, they all feltreasonably confident of having passed successfully. At any rate, theyhad put the thought of them resolutely out of mind, following Peggy's,"one thing at a time, and when it's done, it doesn't do any goodworrying about it." Those four days had been devoted to concentrateddoing nothing.
"'DULCE FAR NIENTE' is such a pretty phrase it makes a virtue ofloafing," said Priscilla.
And to this, for the time being, the other three agreed.
It was indirectly through Horace Hitchcock that the Friendly Terracegirls became interested in the Rummage Sale. For at the Field Dayexercises Horace and Priscilla had happened to occupy seats in theGrand Stand next to Mrs. Sidney Vanderpool, and Horace, who seemed aprime favorite with that influential lady, had introduced Priscilla.Mrs. Vanderpool was in charge of a rummage sale to be held for thebenefit of a local charity, and recognizing Priscilla's efficiency at aglance, she had promptly enlisted her under her banner. Since whateverconcerned one of the Friendly Terrace quartette concerned all, Mrs.Vanderpool in securing Priscilla's cooperation had gained four newassistants.
It was Peggy, strange to say, whose enthusiasm it was hardest tokindle. "Somehow I never thought much of rummage sales," she owned."Perhaps it is because _rummage_ always reminds me of _rubbish_."
"But that's not fair, Peggy," Priscilla remonstrated. "Every familyhas a lot of things packed away that would be a blessing to people alittle poorer."
Peggy reflected. "I can't think of anything we could spare that wouldbe much of a blessing to any one."
"You haven't looked your things over with that thought in mind. TakeMrs. Vanderpool, for instance. Why, she'd discard a piece of furniturewe would be proud to put in the parlor. A chair or sofa we'd thinktoo shabby to have around would seem magnificent to your friends, theBonds."
"I suppose there's something in that," owned Peggy.
"Of course there is. Thanks to the rummage sales, people get rid of alot of stuff that's no further good to them; and other people get agreat many things that they can use, and pay almost nothing for them."
"If they pay so little, why does Mrs. Vanderpool expect to make such alot of money!" demanded Peggy.
"Look at the five-and-ten cent stores. Little profits count up, if youmake sales enough. And in a rummage sale the expenses are so smallthat almost everything is profit."
Peggy began to think that her prejudice had been unreasonable, and shehunted the house over to find something worth contributing. But hersearch was far from satisfactory to herself. Mrs. Raymond was not oneof the house-keepers who make a practice of hoarding useless articles.If a piece of furniture broke down, she had it mended if it were worthrepairing; if not, she either gave it to some poor family who couldmake use of it, or else had it carted away by the rubbish collector.When Peggy's exhaustive search ended, she had succeeded in collectingfor the sale only a few pieces of crockery and a carpet-sweeper whichhad outlived its halcyon days, though still capable of picking threadsoff the carpet.
The sale was to be held in a large vacant store in the down-towndistrict, and was to last three days. All contributors had been askedto send their offerings several days in advance, and the FriendlyTerrace girls, with a score of others, were on hand to assist inclassifying the articles as they arrived, and were arranging themso as to make the best possible showing. As Peggy worked with theothers, she was conscious of a return of her former misgivings.Undoubtedly among the contributions arriving by the wagon load therewere many articles which would be useful to some one, but Peggywondered who would be able to make use of the cracked pitchers andleaky kitchen utensils which were coming in such quantities. She lookeddisapprovingly at the loads of worn-out finery, displayed on theclothing table. In her opinion people who would buy second-hand eveningdresses ought not to afford any. Of the flimsy evening frocks, most ofthem cut excessively low, some were spotted and soiled, while otherswere torn and generally bedraggled. Peggy made up her mind that underno circumstances would she be a saleswoman at that table.
The array of bric-a-brac aroused similar qualms. Looking the collectionover, Peggy wondered at the things people had once regarded asornamental. And even though they now realized their error, and wereglad to rid themselves of these offenses against good taste, it seemedto Peggy rather hard that they should encourage the unenlightened topurchase such monstrosities under the mistaken notion that they werebeautifying their homes. She was glad to turn to the book table where,if nowhere else, really worth-while bargains were offered. There werepiles of the best magazines, many of them with the leaves uncut.There were odd volumes of classic writers, the most of which seemedin excellent condition. Peggy set herself to make the book table asinviting as possible, in hopes that the sales would be gratifying.
But while her original misgivings had returned in full force, Peggysaid nothing about them. As far as she could see, they were unsharedby any person present. The three girls who were her most intimatefriends were working away enthusiastically, their bright facesunclouded by a doubt. Peggy had been a little startled by the discoverythat Amy had deliberately left her out of the plot for painting AuntPhoebe's sitting-room floor. It led her to wonder if perhaps she wasover-particular.
"No one else seems to see anything out of the way," Peggy reflected."It seems as if it must be all right, if I'm the only one who thinksit isn't. Oh, dear, I hope I'm not getting so critical and fussythat I imagine that things are wrong when they're not." Again herthoughts turned to Aunt Phoebe's painted floor. If Amy had asked hercooperation, she would have refused, and would have done her bestto dissuade Amy from her reckless scheme. But the results had beenall that could be desired. Aunt Phoebe had her new carpet, and wasradiantly happy, while Uncle Philander-Behind-His-Back had undoubtedlybeen taught a lesson he sorely needed. Strange to say, he did not seemto hold any grudge against Amy for taking sides against him. Amy, whohad been out to admire the new carpet, reported that he had receivedher without any display of animosity, and unprotestingly had allowedAunt Phoebe to serve her with ice cream. "It must be that I'm gettingtoo particular," thought Peggy. "This time I won't say a word."
She broke her resolution, however, when the committee, who had beendelegated to mark the prices of each article, set to work. Peggy hadcomforted herself by recalling Priscilla's assurance that everythingwould be sold at prices almost too small to mention. Instead, it seemedto the astonished Peggy that a good price was set on articles whichfrom her standpoint were quite valueless. "O, don't you think thatis too much?" She could not help exclaiming as one of the committeeattached a price card to a three legged chair, which kept an uprightposition only by balancing itself against a rickety table.
The lady smiled upon her. "We'll have the prices rather high the firstday," she replied. "Of course we want to make all we can. Then we'llreduce them for the second day, and on the third we'll take anything wecan get."
Peggy did not return the smile. She was perplexed and troubled. She wasbeginning to realize that though these women were working for charity,they knew very little about the practical problems of the poor. Shelooked at the three-legged chair and wondered what she would do if shesaw some reckless mother of a family preparing to squander real moneyon anything so worthless.
Although Peggy had expressed a wish to be stationed at the book table,Mrs. Vanderpool had insisted on placing her among the householdfurnishings. "You've got such a winning way, my dear," she said, "andyou would be wasted on the books. Nobody buys books at a rummage saleexcept the people who would buy them anyway. I'm expecting great thingsfrom that persuasive tongue of
yours." Peggy blushed guiltily, evenwhile she smiled. She was glad Mrs. Vanderpool had such a complimentaryidea of her persuasive powers and hoped she would not disappoint her.
From the hour of its opening, the rummage sale was crowded. Peggy'sheart went out to the women who came pouring in as soon as the doorswere opened to the public. Many of them had a distinctly foreign look.They came hatless, holding their money tightly, and looking about themwith sharp, dark eyes in search of the bargains they coveted. In theevening the shop girls and factory workers were out in full force,and Peggy noticed uneasily how inevitably they gravitated toward thecast-off finery which had aroused her disapproval. She turned her backthat she might not be a witness to the thriving business she suspectedthat department of doing.
But resolving to allow events to take their course without a protest,Peggy had failed to reckon with her inborn inability to shirkresponsibility. The formula which acts as a sedative to so manyconsciences, "It's none of my business," had never proved effective inher case. And though she stuck to her resolution on the first day, thedevelopments of the second proved too much for her. It was late on thatafternoon when she noticed a flutter at one of the adjacent counters,and discovered to her astonishment, that the occasion of the excitementwas an acquaintance of her own, no other than the husband of ElviraBond.
Peggy had always felt a certain responsibility for Elvira, due to thefact that she had known the good-natured, slatternly girl ever sinceshe could remember. Mrs. Bond had done the Raymonds' washing, off andon for many years, less because of her excellence as a laundress, thanbecause she needed the work. Then Elvira had grown up, and taken hermother's place at the wash-tubs. The year of America's entry into thewar she had unexpectedly married a young man considerably above her inthe social scale, who had immediately been called to the colors.
Elvira's romance had been her awakening. To Peggy's attentive earshe had confided her dawning aspirations. "Joe likes things neatand clean," she explained, a little wistfulness in her voice. "Notcluttered up the way Ma keeps 'em. And I'd hate to make him ashamed ofme."
"Of course you would," Peggy had cried. "And there's not a bit of need,Elvira. Why, of course you can keep your house as nice as anybody's.All you've got to do is to make up your mind that you will."
In the absence of the young husband Peggy had a watchful eye onElvira. She had done her best to keep alive the girl's newly awakenedambitions, in spite of the discouraging home atmosphere. And afterJoe's return she had frequently gone to see Elvira in the little homethe young couple had purchased, and were paying for on the installmentplan. In view of the girl's bringing up, it is hardly surprising thatshe had her relapses; but on the whole, Peggy was proud of her. Elviraworked hard, was developing a commendable thrift, and was extremelyproud of her little home and of her baby.
It was at one of the bric-a-brac tables that Peggy discovered Elvira'shusband, and he seemed, as far as she could judge from his manner andthe manner of the women who were calling his attention to one thingafter another, on the point of investing largely in the heterogeneouscollection. But he happened to look over his shoulder in Peggy'sdirection, recognized her instantly, and came toward her, his faceirradiated by a broad smile.
"Afternoon, Miss Peggy," he exclaimed. "I'm looking around. I'mthinking of buying a few little things to take home to the wife." Heslapped his pocket. "It's pay-day, Miss Peggy, and the best ain't nonetoo good for Elvira and the kid, I'll swear it ain't."
Peggy looked at him silently. It was the era of prohibition, yetan unmistakable odor radiated from Joe's person and confirmed thesuspicion aroused by his unnatural manner. Peggy's heart sank.
All unconscious of her dismay, Joe was examining her stock. "What'sthat, Miss Peggy?" He indicated by a gesture the object which hadaroused his interest.
"That is a churn, Joe."
"Fine! Fine! I've been wanting a churn ever since I got married. What'sthe damage?"
"But you can't want a churn, Joe; you don't keep a cow."
"No telling, Miss Peggy, I might buy a cow 'most any day." But hisvacillating attention went to a battered table and he gave it aseemingly close examination. "I'll take it, Miss Peggy," he declaredwith a wave of his hand, "Just the thing for our front room."
"Why, Joe, Elvira has a table for the front room already."
"Can't have too much of a good thing, you know," grinned Joe. "Say Ilike the looks of that." Peggy's eyes followed his extended fingerand she frowned. "Why, Joe, that's a coffee urn, and it wouldn't besuitable for a small family. Besides, it leaks."
"I'm bound to take home something, Miss Peggy," snickered Joe. "Nothingsmall about me. My pockets are pretty well lined, and you'll find me agood customer."
"Joe," said Peggy desperately, "Listen to me. You don't want any ofthis stuff in your pretty little home. It's not good enough."
"I guess I know what I want."
"No, Joe. You must excuse me, but to-day you don't know what you want.If you were quite yourself you'd never think of taking Elvira home arickety table or a churn."
"You mean to tell me that I'm drunk." Joe's manner had lost itssuavity. His eyes flashed as he regarded her.
"No, Joe, you're not drunk, but you've been drinking and you're notyourself. And I know by to-morrow you'll feel awfully sorry if you havecarried a lot of rubbish into your dear little home."
For a moment Joe wavered between amiability and anger. His masculinepride was touched by the implication that he did not know his own mind,and alcohol had quickened his propensity to take offense. But on theother hand, there was something disarming in the way Peggy spoke ofhis wife and his home, and her smile was appealing. Mrs. Vanderpool hadcounted on her winning way and it was as effective as she had hoped,though Peggy did not apply it exactly as she had expected of her.
After a moment's hesitation, Joe capitulated. "I guess you're right,Miss Peggy. When a fellow's had a few drinks, most anything looks likea bargain. Guess this is a lot of junk."
"There's nothing here that you and Elvira want, I'm sure of that, Joe."
"Good-by, Miss Peggy."
"Good-by, Joe. Tell Elvira I'll be over to see her very soon."
Peggy drew a breath of relief when she saw Joe leave the building.But her congratulatory mood was not to last. For not long after Joe'sdeparture, she became aware of Mrs. Vanderpool at her elbow.
"Well, you had a profitable customer at last," smiled the lady. "Wantedto buy you out, didn't he?"
The possibility of evasion did not occur to Peggy. She lifted her frankeyes. "He talked about buying a lot of useless things," she answered,"but of course I wouldn't let him. You see, he'd been drinking and hedidn't really know what he wanted. And besides, I know his wife."
The blank expression with which Mrs. Vanderpool regarded her madeplain the impossibility of their ever coming to an understanding.Peggy started to go on, and then lapsed into silence, realizing theuselessness of further explanations. Mrs. Vanderpool having relievedher mind by a long stare, turned majestically away, and Peggy heard hera little later, talking animatedly of some one who, it appeared, wastotally lacking in the business instinct. Peggy thought she could comevery near guessing the identity of the person referred to. But as shewent on pointing out to possible purchasers the flaws in her wares, shemade up her mind that the chance of being over-particular in matters ofright and wrong was very trifling compared with the danger of not beingparticular enough.