Part 5 (1/2)
”Oh, dreadful! But I'll tell you what, Timmie--if you'll let me come in and stay all night, I'll promise not to eat anything but a slice of bread and b.u.t.ter. We could cut a hole in that and play it was a cook--”
”The bread's gone, too. I've e't up--”
”Timothy Leavitt, are you going to let us in?” laughed his sister, though there were two red spots blooming in her cheeks. What would Timmie say next! She led the way through the tiny hall into a big, bright room whose centerpiece was a frail, smiling little woman with a lapful of calico bits. She held out both her hands to Glory.
”Don't tell me who she is, Diantha. As if I didn't know! My dear, my dear, I am very glad you have come. I have hoped you would, ever since your path crossed Di's, and--”
”Glorified it, mamma.”
”Yes, glorified it--that is it. Take off your things, dear, and just feel snug and at home.”
And thus the little home opened its arms to dainty Glory. The welcome extended was as gracious and as perfect a hospitality as could have been found in the grandest home in the land. There was no luxury or even plenty. But Glory saw instantly there was the happiness that goes with love. It was her awakening. A new wonder filled the girl's heart that poverty and happiness could live together like this. While Di was busy she mused.
”I thought poor people fretted and grumbled. I know I should. _I_ shouldn't be suns.h.i.+ny and nice like this. And they open their doors into their poor, bare, empty rooms and bid me welcome just as beautifully as Aunt Hope would do to our house. It is beautiful. Just beautiful! It's a bit of heaven right down here in this little unpainted house.”
Diantha put on a big ap.r.o.n and rolled up her sleeves. ”I'm going out and make some m.u.f.fins,” she smiled. ”Timmie, you stay here.”
”Yes,” said Glory, ”Timmie'll stay with me. Can't we play something--we two?”
”Uncrutchit!” demanded Tiny Tim eagerly.
”Un--what? I don't believe I ever played that.”
”No, 'course not. You ain't got any old crutch to _un_.”
Glory looked helplessly at the gentle mother, who smiled back at her quietly. But in the sweet voice, when it spoke, there was depthless wistfulness.
”Timmie means play he hasn't any crutch--that he doesn't need one, you know,” explained the sweet voice. ”'Un-crutch-it' is his favorite play. He puts the crutch out of sight--”
”This way,” cried Timmie, clattering the little crutch under the sofa in hot haste. ”That's uncrutching, don't you see? Now I'm uncrutched.
You play I'm very big an' tall an' my legs match. Every little while you must look up an' say, 'Mercy me! how that child grows!'”
The little play went on until supper was ready. Then the little crutch came out again and was put into active service.
It was a strange meal to Glory. She told Aunt Hope afterward all about it.
”It was just as quiet and nice-behaved and beautiful as any supper, only there wasn't anything to eat! Oh, auntie, you know what I mean!
You know I mean there were the m.u.f.fins (they were splendid) and the tea and dried apple sauce. I had more than I could eat. But you don't know how I wanted to fill that pale little lady's plate with some of our chicken and gravy and set by her plate a salad, after she'd worked all day. And pile Tiny Timmie's plate tumble-high with goodies! It made me ashamed to think of all the beautiful suppers of my life that I've taken without even a 'Thank you, G.o.d.'”
The two girls went to bed early and lay talking, as girls have done since girls began. The topics of talk drifted through the different lessons into personal subjects.
”Do you know, I'm hoping!” the Other Girl burst out softly, with a little quiver of her thin body under the quilts. ”I began to last night. I'm going to do it right from now on. Maybe it's silly, but I am.”
”Is it a riddle?” asked Glory.
”Oh, don't you understand? I thought you must, because I did! I mean I'm hoping to pa.s.s the examinations for the next grade next summer.
That's just what I'm doing, Glory Wetherell.”