CHAPTER IX--CALLERS

"Randy, wake up!"

"Yes, oh yes, in a minute," Randy answered, drowsily.

"No, now, Randy, wake up now! I want to talk about those tab things what we had last night," and two little soft arms wound their way about sleepy Randy's neck.

Randy rubbed her eyes, laughing as she said, "Do call them tableaux, Prue, can't you remember that? Tableaux, Prue, say so."

"Tabby-lows!" shouted Prue. "How's that?"

"Better," said Randy, still laughing.

"Well, whatever you call 'em, yours was the prettiest, Randy dear, the very prettiest, and Jotham said so, too, so of course it's true," said little Prue, who had been sitting up in bed in order to see her sister's face when she repeated the compliment.

"Now, Prue," said Randy, "did he say that because you asked him?"

"Why, no," said the child, whose smiling face now assumed an injured expression. "He didn't say it to me 'tall. He said it to his mother; I heard him, and she said she thought so, too, I heard her; she sat just behind us. Now, Randy Weston, I thought it was real nice to tell you, and that's what I waked you up for."

"It's all very nice," Randy answered, "that you liked my picture best; and do you know, little sister, I would rather have you pleased than almost any one, next to father and mother."

"Why?" questioned the little girl, in genuine surprise.

"Because," said her sister, "you're a little girl who means just what she says."

"Yes, I do mean it, Randy dear; you did look just the best of any one, but you'd ought to seen Jotham," she continued, "he meant it, too. He meant it just _tremenjous_!"

"Well, Jotham's kind, too," said Randy; then, with a happy little sigh, she turned a smiling face to little Prue as she said, "'most every one's good, I do believe."

"Not near as good as you, Randy," said Prue, thoughtfully; but, she added, brightening, "I mean to be good all day, 'cause why do you s'pose, Randy? 'Cause I had such a good time last night."

"That's a good reason," said Randy. Soon Randy proposed dressing, and at the breakfast table Prue resumed the conversation with which she had awakened Randy.

All agreed that it had been just a lovely evening, but the little girl was not quite satisfied.

"Well, now, we did have a splendid time," said she, "but I want you to say my Randy was just the best of all."

"Why, of course, we say so," said her father, laughing; "but who sang a nice little song?"

"Oh, I 'most forgot, I sang a little tune and so did Katie Buffum."

"So you did, so you did," said her father, "and your mother and I thought you little girls did your parts well."

"I think they all did wonderful," said Mrs. Weston. "I was jest proud of my girls, and my neighbors' children, too. I do declare, I believe Miss Dayton can do anything. Last evening jest did me good. Well, this won't do for me," she added, "there's a sight to do to-day."

"We'll help," said Randy and Prue together.

"I guess I'll have to have you help me, Randy, if you're a mind to."

"Me too, me too," cried Prue.

So Randy filled a large pan with hot water and Prue armed herself with a long towel, and the two commenced work as if their lives depended upon it.

Mrs. Weston was an energetic woman and soon her pies were made and baked, and standing to cool upon the table. The children had worked bravely all the forenoon, Randy doing a great deal to be helpful, and Prue assisting in many small things. Randy was just thinking that she would surely scorch if she remained in the hot kitchen another minute, when such an interesting thing happened.

Up the well-trodden path to the kitchen door came Mrs. Hodgkins, "the best woman in town and the newsiest," as Silas Barnes had described her.

The children were always delighted to see her coming, as a call from Mrs. Hodgkins meant numberless scraps of gossip, and in a small country town where neighbors are few and far between, anything in the shape of news is welcome.

Laboriously the good woman stepped from door-stone to threshold, and voluminously filling the wooden rocker which Mrs. Weston offered her, she fanned herself with her handkerchief, ejaculating between gasps for breath, "Lor' me! How hot it is! Ef I ever get my breath again, I'll try ter talk a spell." But it would have been something greater than shortness of breath that could have completely silenced Mrs. Hodgkins. A few energetic movements of the palm-leaf fan which Randy offered her, a few moments of jerky rocking in the old wooden rocker, and she was ready to begin.

"Well there, Mis' Weston, I b'lieve I can talk now," said she. "Joel was goin' over to the barn raisin', an' I told him I didn't care nothin' 'bout seein' it; but ef he'd a mind to drive me as fur as your house, I'd call in an' look at yer a spell, 'n' I can't spare the time to talk 'n' not do somethin' at the same time," and she drew from a capacious bag an old woollen stocking, saying, "I thought I'd bring my knittin' along and p'haps git this stockin' footed down while I was talkin'."

"Why, that's a woollen stocking," said little Prue.

"Lor' yes, child, it's one of Joel's winter stockin's. I was up attic yesterday huntin' over my rag bag, 'n' I came across a lot of his old winter stockin's that I'd 'bout decided to throw away, 'n' I says to myself, 'Sophrony Hodgkins, that's downright wasteful,' 'n' I've just set myself a task to foot 'em down 'fore winter." Her needles clicked furiously, and she knit around several times before she spoke again. With her brows contracted she worked until she felt sure that her knitting was "straightened out," then she paused for a chat.

"Did you know," she commenced, "that Phoebe Small was a beggin' an' a teasin' her pa to send her to boardin' school? Well, she is, 'n' none of the girls could find out what put it in her head ter want ter go 'til Jemima Babson teased it out of her. Seems at the picnic Miss Dayton, in some story she was tellin' the children, let out that she went away from home ter school, 'n' Phoebe got the idee that ter go away ter school would jest be the makin' of her. Jemima don't care what she says, an' she up an' told Phoebe that it 'would take more 'n boardin' school to make her as sweet as Miss Dayton,' all of which was true, but not ter Phoebe's likin'."

"_Is_ she going to boarding school?" asked Randy.

"Land, no! Her ma told her to wait 'til she'd learned all there was ter learn at our deestric' school 'fore she talked 'bout goin' anywhere else; and that 'bout finished it."

Here Mrs. Hodgkins, who had said all this without stopping, paused to take breath. "I shouldn't like my girls to be away at boardin' school," said Mrs. Weston, "and I think Mrs. Small would feel 'bout as I do."

"An' there's Mrs. Buffum," continued Mrs. Hodgkins, "with all her children, 'n' she says they've got to be where she can see ter them, an' git their larnin' ter home, and now I'll tell yer the joke. It seems Miss Dayton laughed when she heard about it, for she wasn't at boardin' school at all; she was at school, and was boardin' at a big hotel with her aunt, 'n' the hotel was near the school. But there, ye know Phoebe Small never gits anything more 'n half right.

"But I'll tell ye somethin' worth tellin'. Old Sandy McLeod's comin' to meetin'!"

"You don't say!" ejaculated Mrs. Weston, lifting her hands, and letting them fall upon her lap, thereby showing the surprise which Mrs. Hodgkins thought this piece of news deserved.

"Well, you see, it was this way," continued the bearer of this pleasant bit of gossip; "it commenced with Miss Dayton's doin' a few little things fer him. Nobody b'lieved fer a minute that he'd come to Mrs. Gray's, to the entertainment; but Miss Dayton asked him in her pretty way, and he hadn't the heart ter refuse ter come, 'n' he had such a nice evenin', and heard her sing that Scotch song, and all, 'n' he says now he's made a great mistake stayin' off by himself so long. An' he's been to Parson Spooner and, ef you'll believe it, hired a whole pew, sayin' he could well afford to; en' he says that as there's only one in his family, any one that wants ter can sit in his pew, any time.

"He says he always went ter church, though he calls it 'kirk,' or something like that, when he was a young man and lived in Scotland; an' he says, rain or shine, we'll see him in his place every Sunday, after this. When somebody asked him what made him think of goin' ter church again, he drew that great rough hand of his across his eyes, and jist said, 'It's all the doin' of that lass,' meanin' Miss Dayton. And let me tell yer somethin' queerer than that! Did ye notice old Nathan Lawton the other night?

"My! how his eyes twinkled when the children were singin'. Ye know he's dreadful fond of children; but ye know, too, ef ye know anything, that he's tighter 'n the bark of a tree. Well, Miss Dayton heard say what a bad room fer heatin' that schoolroom was, and how the little buildin' was kind er fer off fer most of the children.

"Wal', after we'd seen all the pictures, or what yer call 'ems, and she'd sung her song so sweetly, old Nathan spoke ter her, an' thanked her for the pleasant evenin', sayin' he'd do most anythin' ter obleege her, in return, as ye might say, fer his enjoyment; and I had ter laugh softly ter myself when she put her little white hand on his arm and said she thought nothin' would please her so much as ter think, when she went home, that the children here would start ter school in a comfortable, warm room, 'specially ef it could be one that was handy for them all; and she asked him, as one of the see-lect-men, ter manage it some way.

"He just took one look at the smilin' face lookin' up at him, and then and there offered the use of that front room of his'n, and promised ter keep it roastin' warm all winter, from his own woodpile. His house is just about the handiest ter every one of any house in town, and I do say that was a han'some offer.

"Any other folks might have asked him 'til they got tired askin'; but he couldn't refuse her, 'n' I don't wonder. She's just done us a world of good this summer, 'n' in such an easy, pretty way that we've just enjoyed it.

"And now I've come ter what fetched me here ter day. Mrs. Gray said ter me that Miss Dayton never went to an apple-bee; and I was thinkin' she got up that picnic, and that splendid evenin' with the music,"--"and tab things," said Prue,--"an' I've been thinkin' it's 'bout time we got up somethin' fer her," said good Mrs. Hodgkins, and she beamed upon Mrs. Weston and Randy as she waited for their approval.

"I think so too," said Randy and her mother together; "but do you think that she would enjoy an apple-bee?"

"Well, we couldn't get up anything fine," said Mrs. Hodgkins; "but they do say that our apple-bees are 'bout the best that they have anywhere 'round here."

Mrs. Weston thought a moment, then said: "Our house is the biggest in the neighborhood, an' Miss Dayton has been so kind to Randy and Prue that I'll say we'll have the apple-bee here, and I think we'll try extry hard to make it a pleasant one. I'm real glad you thought of it, Mrs. Hodgkins. I think we'll all enjoy it, an' if Miss Dayton does, that's all we'll ask for."

"Well, ef here ain't Joel," said Mrs. Hodgkins, "an' I'll have ter be goin'; but I'll come over an' help ye git ready for the apple-bee, so good-by 'til I see ye again," and she hastily took her departure, puffing down the walk like a small engine, and clambering into the wagon beside her husband. "Good-by, I'll be over ter help ye," she cried, looking back; then they jogged off down the road.

Randy and her mother turned from the doorway and walked back into the kitchen. "Look at that clock, Randy!" exclaimed Mrs. Weston; "I guess it'll be a funny dinner to-day," and she commenced to make hasty preparations for the noon meal.

Mr. Weston laughed good-naturedly when he heard of the forenoon caller, and in consequence the "picked-up dinner." "Lots of folks haven't as good a dinner as this, mother," said he, "and I must say, I'm glad she came in ter talk ter ye and so make ye stop workin' a spell. Where is Prue?"

Sure enough, the little girl who was always eager to tell a part of any happening was, for once, not in evidence. So busy had Randy and her mother been, preparing the dinner, that Prue had not been missed.

"She went out when Mrs. Hodgkins went, don't you remember, mother?" said Randy. "She ran down the path, waving her hand and saying good-by when they drove away."

"Well, Randy, run out and find her, and tell her ter come in ter dinner. Dear me! I hope she hasn't got inter some scrape. She's been out of sight long enough fer anything." Out rushed Randy, calling loudly, "Prue! Prue! where are you?"

"I'm right here, and I'm very busy," came an answering shout from behind the house.

Around the house ran Randy, and such a funny sight she saw!

"Why, Prue Weston, you naughty girl!" said Randy in dismay.

"I ain't naughty," said the child.

"You are, too," responded Randy, "to plague kitty like that. You just take her out of that rain-water tub this minute! If she wasn't the best old cat in the world, she would have scratched you well for ducking her like that."

Prue tried to lift pussy out, and Randy ran to help her.

Poor pussy! If Randy had been a few minutes later, she must surely have been drowned, for, just as Randy arrived, Prue was holding Tabby's head under water "to let it soak," she said.

"What ever made you do such a thing?" questioned Randy, when the cat was once more on dry land; "don't you know that in a few minutes more you would have drowned her?"

"Drowned!" said Prue in a horrified whisper, "drowned, did you say, Randy?"

"Why, of course," said Randy, impatiently; "don't you _know_ she'd drown with her head under water?"

"Why, Randy, that's awful!" said Prue. "I didn't mean to hurt Tabby. I only meant to help her. She comed down from the field what's been burned over, and she was all smutty, and I thought I'd give her a good washing; so I put her in the tub, but the smut sticked awful, and I thought I'd soak her and p'rhaps she'd wash easier; and, Randy, whatever you say, she _isn't_ drowned one mite. Just see her washing herself dry in the sun."

"Oh, Prue, Prue!" said Randy, "what shall I do with you? You do the queerest things! Go tell Tabby you're sorry this minute. If kitty had died, just think how you'd felt."

"Now, don't you make me cry, Randy," said Prue, "'cause you know I love Tabby, and I didn't mean to hurt her."

The cat was an unusually placid animal, or she never would have permitted a little girl to do such a thing. Prue had always used her for a doll, dressing her up in all sorts of things, and sometimes dragging her about in a wooden box which she called a "carriage." This alleged vehicle was an old soap box, beautifully padded with a woollen shawl. It had neither wheels nor springs, and as little Prue dragged it along, it thumped over twigs and stones with the most surprising jolts. Pussy, however, seemed to have a species of lethargy, for she slept through it all; so Prue insisted that she liked the ride. The family declared the cat to be absolutely without vim; but that deficiency in her make-up made her a delightful plaything for Prue.

After dinner Mrs. Weston talked long and seriously with her little daughter, telling her that as pussy was so gentle and willing to be played with, she ought to be very kind to her and never do anything that Tabby would not like.

"But I wanted Tabby to be clean in time for the folks to see her when we have the apple-bee," said Prue.

"Oh, she'll be clean as clean can be by that time," said her mother, smiling. "She'll have a whole week to wash in. I think that when you wish to do something to kitty different from what you've done before, you'd better come and ask me first."

"I will," said the little girl, promptly, and Mrs. Weston knew that pussy was safe from any new torment, for Prue always kept her word, and she loved Tabby dearly.

Early in the afternoon, as Mrs. Weston sat by the window mending, another wagon stopped at the door; and this time a tall, angular woman came up the path with nervous haste. The door was open, and without waiting to knock, the caller walked in and seated herself.

"There, I guess you're s'prised to see me, Mis' Weston, but I jest had ter come."

"Well, I am surprised," responded Mrs. Weston; "but I'm just as pleased ter see ye. Take off yer bunnit."

"I'll take it off jest ter show it ter ye," said Mrs. Jenks. "I thought I'd had a change of heart years an' years ago, but I guess I've jest got it now."

"Do tell! Why, Mrs. Jenks, how ye talk," and in blank amazement Mrs. Weston stopped mending, the stocking, however, still drawn over her hand.

"Well, ye might as well stop mendin' an' listen, fer I've come ter tell ye quite a story. It all began with this bunnit. I stepped over ter Mis' Gray's one mornin' of an arrant, an' I chanced to say something about not havin' a decent bunnit fer Sunday, an' I said I had a bunnit I'd bought down ter Barnses and quite a lot of old ribbon that was plenty good enough to trim it with; but, says I, I've no more idee how to trim it than a cat. Miss Dayton was just comin' in the door with a lot of wild flowers and green stuff, and she offered, so sweetly, to call over in the afternoon and jest tack the ribbons on fer me that, some way, I had ter let her do it.

"Well, she came over and I got out my ribbon--it was that I had on a blue dress of mine once--and she sat down to trim it. It took some time, and to this day I don't know how it came about, but the first thing I knew she was a-makin' me see how much better it was to give rather than receive. Now I've been pretty 'near' and savin', but I never meant ter be mean; but she led me to talk of the time when Reuben was little, and 'fore I knew it I was tellin' that girl how I used to leave my work jist ter look at him in the old wooden cradle. I told her what I'd most forgot myself: how I could never let him lay there, but jest had ter take him up and hug him jest a minute an' then go on with my work. I've never meant ter be hard with the boy, but p'r'aps I forgit sometimes that he's pretty young still.

"Well, Miss Dayton looked up from the bows she was makin' pretty, and says she, 'Reuben's a nice little fellow, and I think, if you were to try it, you'd find he liked petting still. I've talked with him many times since I've been here, and I find that his one idea seems to be to grow up as fast as possible so as to be able to help father and mother.'

"I tell ye, Mis' Weston, I was all took back to find a sweet young girl who was 'most a stranger to us had learned my boy's good traits 'fore I had. Well, when Reuben came in jist 'fore supper-time with his jacket with a big tear in it, I was jist ready ter say somethin'. He took the jacket off and hung it on my chair ter be mended; and layin' his hand on my shoulder, he said, 'I wish I didn't get my things tore quite so often, mother, but this time I couldn't help it.'

"It took lots er resolution, but I jest kissed him on his forehead, and the s'prised look on his face made me realize how long it had been sence I'd kissed him before.

"'Reuben,' says I, 'no matter what I say when I speak hasty, just remember that yer mother thinks the world of ye!'

"'F you'll believe me, that boy flew at me, and puttin' his arms round my neck he said, 'Why, mother, a minute ago I was awful sorry, and now I'm almost glad I tore my jacket.'

"'So be I,' says I, and then we both laughed, but we were jest as near cryin', and I tell you, Mis' Weston, I ain't never goin' ter have such a distance, so to speak, between my boy and me as there has been; I guess we understand each other now."

"Well, I don't know when I've heard any better news," said Mrs. Weston, taking off her glasses and slowly wiping them. "I think pretty well of little Reuben, and I b'lieve, properly encouraged, he'll make a good man."

"Well, now, it beats all how Miss Dayton does things," said Mrs. Jenks. "Some folks would have blundered about it in a way that would have made me mad, but to this day, I do say, I don't know how she done it. And look at that bunnit," continued enthusiastic Mrs. Jenks, "didn't she make them bows pretty? I declare, there ain't a prettier bunnit in the meetin'-house than that."

"'Tis pretty," assented Mrs. Weston; "just as pretty as it can be."

"So I say," said Mrs. Jenks, "and now this mornin' I met Mis' Hodgkins and her husband. 'They'd just come from here,' they said, 'and,' says Mis' Hodgkins, 'we're goin' ter have the first apple-bee ter Mis' Weston's and,' says she, sorter smilin', 'I ain't sure's you'll be very anxious ter help, but we're all goin' ter do our part ter help make a grand time fer Miss Dayton;' and says I, 'If it's fer Miss Dayton, I'll agree to contribute anything you like toward the supper, and I'll go right over now an' tell Mis' Weston so.' My, but didn't she look at me! I laughed ter myself, an' I said right out loud, as I drove off, 'Matilda Jenks, this is the last time any one will have a chance ter call ye stingy.'

"I commenced this mornin' by givin' Reuben a lot of maple sugar to treat the boys with, and I tell you Miss Dayton's 'bout right, it does feel good to give. We've been prospered, and from this time forth I ain't goin' ter be foolish with this world's goods; but I _vow_ I won't be mean; so I've come ter say that if there's anythin' I can offer ter help make the bee a success, jest say the word an' you shall have it."

"Mrs. Jenks," said Mrs. Weston, kindly, "I always said ye hadn't but one fault, and now you've overcome that, seems to me you're pretty near perfect."

"I guess there's room fer improvement," said Mrs. Jenks, grasping her friend's extended hand, "but I've started in the right direction. Now, I must be goin', and remember I'll do anything ter help along that bee."

Mrs. Weston promised to remember, and as rapidly as she came Matilda Jenks strode down the path and drove away.

A few minutes later Randy came running in at the door. "Oh, mother," said she, "I ran out to look for Prue again, while Mrs. Jenks was talking, and, mother, she's doing the cunningest thing. She's playing read. She's lying on the grass back of the house, with the fairy book in front of her. She's making b'lieve read to Tabby. Do come and see her."

Softly they made their way around the house and, sure enough, there lay Prue, the wonderful fairy book before her, her elbows on the book, and her chin in her hands. Soon they were near enough to hear what she was reading, and yet not to be observed.

"Now, Tabby," she was saying, "you _mustn't_ go to sleep when I'm reading to you. Now you listen: The princess--that's Miss Dayton, Tabby--is very beautiful, and so I know there must be a prince, somewhere, that she knows; 'cause, Tabby, in the fairy tales the princesses always has princes; and, Tabby, I'll tell you truly, Miss Dayton is prettier than any picture in this book. And, Tabby, she loves little girls and big girls, like my Randy, and she loves big womens and old womens and old mens, like Sandy McLeod; and, Tabby, I b'lieve, I most b'lieve she loves you, and I'm going to ask her.

"She prob'ly does love you; she seems to love everybody. This isn't all in the book, Tabby, but what I tell you that isn't in the book is true. I'm most glad the fairy stories ain't true; for if things did happen like what's in the book, maybe you'd turn into a frog, and then, Tabby, I couldn't hug you."

Here Tabby rubbed her head against Prue's little arm. "There," said the child, "you _knew_ what I said, didn't you?" and she sprang up, catching Tabby in her arms to "love her," as she called it.

"Oh, did you hear me reading to my kitty?" shouted Prue, as she caught sight of her smiling audience.

"We heard ye, and I guess some of it was full as pretty as what was in the book," said Mrs. Weston, and together the three wended their way back to the house, followed by Tabby.