Part 26 (1/2)

The Dean children came in during the afternoon to exchange notes and tell a grand secret. Their aunt and two cousins were coming from Baltimore. Bessy was quite a big girl, fourteen, and Ada was ten. Their mother had said they might have a real party of boys and girls, not just a little tea party and playing with dolls; but real plays with forfeits.

”You know I've just studied with all my might and main, and mother said if I had all my lessons and a good record that I could have the thing I wanted most, if it didn't cost too very much. And I said I wanted a real party.”

”It will be just splendid!” declared Hanny.

”And we've been counting up. We have seven cousins to ask. And the girls at school--some of them. I wish we knew some more boys. Oh, do you think Jim would come?”

”I'll ask him if you would like.”

”Oh, just coax him. I suppose Benny Frank will feel that he's too old.

But he's so nice. Oh, do you s'pose John Robert Charles' mother would let him come? Oh, there! I promised to call him Charles, but I think Robert's prettier, don't you? And mother said she'd write the invitations on note-paper. And she has some lovely little envelopes.”

That did look like a party.

”I think John Robert Charles is real nice,” said Hanny timidly. ”But I am afraid of his mother.”

”Oh, so is he, awful! Yet she isn't real ugly to him, only cross, and so dreadful particular. She makes him go out and wipe his feet twice, and wear that queer long cloak when it rains, and that red woollen tippet.

She bought red because it was healthy; he said so. He wanted blue-and-gray. She lets him come over to our house sometimes, and he can sing just splendid. But the boys do make fun of him.”

Poor John Robert Charles often thought his life was a burden on account of his name and his mother's great virtue of cleanliness. He was not allowed to play with the boys. Ball and marbles and hopscotch were tabooed. He could walk up and down and do errands, and that with going to school was surely enough. Then she exaggerated him. His white collars were always broader; if trousers were a little wide, his were regular sailor's. She bought his Sunday suit to grow into, so by the second winter it just fitted him. His every-day clothes she made. And oh, she cut his hair!

It is very hard to be the daughter of such a mother, a rigid, uncompromising woman with no sense of the fitness of things, of harmony or beauty, or indulgence in little fancies that are so much to a child.

Quite as hard to be the son. Charles had everything needful to keep him warm, in good health, and books for study. When it rained hard he had six cents to ride in the omnibus. And he did have the cleanest house, and the cleanest clothes, and, his mother thought, a very nice time.

Luckily there were no boys this end of the block. They were quite grown up, or little children. But there were enough below to torment the poor lad. In the summer when the charcoal man went by they would sing out:

”John Robert Charles, what did you have for breakfast?” and the refrain would be, ”Charcoal.”

”What did you have for dinner?” ”Charcoal.”

”How do you keep so clean?” ”Charcoal.”

Early this autumn the boy had made a protest. Day after day he said it over to himself until he thought he had sufficient courage.

”Mother, why don't you call me just Charles, as my father does?”

His mother's surprise almost withered him. ”Because,” when she had found her breath, ”John is after _my_ father, who was an excellent man, and Robert was for the only brother I ever had, and Charles for your grandfather Reed. If you grow up as good as any of them you'll have no occasion to find fault with your name.”

Yet boys at school called him Bob, and he really did enjoy it. He went to a very nice, select school where there were only twenty boys.

He had made quite an acquaintance with the Dean girls. He could play house, and they had such delightful books to read.

”And the party must be some time next week. Thursday, mother thought, would be convenient. I should give the invitations out on Monday,” Josie said. ”And, oh, try to coax Jim.”

The cousins came. Hanny saw them on Sunday, and on Monday two little girls went round with a pretty basket and left pale-green missives at the houses of friends. There was one for Ben also.

”H-m-m,” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Jim. ”A baby party. Will they play with dolls?”

”Oh, Jim! it's going to be a real party with refreshments. Of course there won't be dolls.”