Part 31 (2/2)
”I earned it so's me and Allee and Cherry could go to the cirkis--that is, if Gail would let us--and then, come to find out, it was last summer, and on 'count of the rain it never stopped at all. Next best to seeing the cirkis is hearing what that man said about the little black babies in Africa,--that's where the cirkis animals come from, too,--and I couldn't help wondering how I'd feel s'posing I had to live there and be black and eat such horrible things and be boiled in a kettle to take the dirt off, and buy my wife for a junk of cloth and wear strings of beads for clo'es. Here's my eighty cents, Dr. Missionary, to buy them a little more Gospel, and when I'm grown up if there are still heathen living in that country, I b'lieve I'll come down and help.”
Whether it was the missionary's sermon, Mr. Strong's plea, or Peace's postscript that did the work, perhaps no one will ever know, but when the ushers brought their loaded baskets to the pulpit and the extraordinary collection was counted, it was found that over one hundred dollars had been raised for the missionary cause that morning in the Parker Church.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE HAND-ORGAN MAN
Hardly had the four younger girls disappeared across the fields on the way to school the next morning, when the Abbott carriage drew up in front of the little brown house, and Cecile and Frances hurried up the path to the door. Gail answered the imperative knock, and looked so surprised and pleased at the unexpected call that the Judge's daughter's face crimsoned with contrition and shame to think she had neglected this old-time friend so long.
”Why, Cecile!” stammered Gail, glancing involuntarily from the girls'
fresh, white suits to her own shabby print frock and rolled-up sleeves.
”This is a great treat. Come right in! We are so glad to have you call.
Don't apologize; you are more than welcome. But please excuse my appearance. It is Monday morning and Faith and I are was.h.i.+ng.”
”Then don't you apologize, either,” said Cecile, trying to laugh easily and failing utterly. ”We should not have called at this outrageous hour, but Frances is to return to the city this afternoon, and she insisted upon coming to see about the children before she left.”
”Oh!” The bright light died from Gail's eyes, and the girls looked uncomfortable. So it was an errand after all and not a friendly call which brought them. ”What is the matter with the children? Has Peace--”
”No, oh, no, nothing has happened,” Cecile began hastily, when Frances interrupted, ”It was on my account. Your little whistler has captivated me completely--and mamma, too. We wanted to know if we might borrow them next Sat.u.r.day, Peace and Allee, to help out in the program at a party I am giving that night. Oh, don't say no! I have set my heart on it. We will take the best care of them and bring them home early Sunday morning. We are coming out here for dinner at Mr. Strong's house that day, and of course must arrive in time for church service. Please say we can borrow them. I do want them _so_ much!”
”Dear me,” exclaimed Cecile in mortification. ”I haven't even introduced you two girls. No wonder you think I am crazy, Gail. This is my chum from Martindale, Miss Sherrar, Miss Greenfield--”
”I'm Frances,” again the radiant-faced stranger interrupted.
”And I am Gail,” smiled the other. ”I have heard the Strongs speak of you often.”
”No oftener than we have heard them speak about you,” Frances a.s.sured her. ”We have known both of them for years, and ever since they took charge here in Parker we have heard lots about you.”
”No doubt. Mr. Strong is quite a champion of Peace's, and she certainly needs one. I am afraid I don't make much of a success in bringing up the little ones.”
”I think Peace is a perfect cherub--in looks.”
The trio laughed merrily, and Cecile added, ”She means to be in actions, but nothing she ever does comes out the way she intended it to, and she keeps everyone guessing as to what she will do next. You ought to hear Daddy rave about her. He thinks she is the smartest child he ever saw.”
”I think she is the sweetest,” said Frances, ”she and Allee. They are both too cunning for anything. I simply must have them at my party.
Won't you say they can come?”
”They have nothing to wear for such a grand occasion,” Gail hesitated, anxious to please, and yet not quite willing to trust two of the precious sisters with strangers for even a twenty-four hours.
”That is easily remedied. I have some little cousins who are sure to have dresses that will fit. It is to be rather a dress-parade, I must admit, but you needn't worry on that account. Mamma knows how to fix them up in Sara's and Marion's clothes. We must have them. Mr. Strong will give us a good recommend, I know.”
Gail laughed. ”There is no need of that at all. I am willing that they should go, only you can hardly blame me for hesitating a little, as this will be the first time either one has been away from home over night; and besides, Peace is such a blunderbus, I rather dread to let her go anywhere for fear she will get into trouble.”
”Now you oughtn't to feel that way at all,” cried Frances gaily. ”_I_ was just such a child as she is, and see what a well-behaved young lady _I_ have grown to be! But really, she has such a sweet disposition and great, tender heart, she will come out all right, I know. Mr. Strong says so, and he is a splendid character reader. Oh, of course, I suppose she has her bad days. We all do, but she is too much of a darling to stay bad long. You should hear your preacher sermonize about her. He says just as sure as she gets into mischief of any kind she comes to him and tells him all about it, cries over it, and goes away promising to be a better girl. Oh, I have lost my heart to her completely! We won't let her get into mischief of any kind, I promise. And I know she will enjoy herself.”
”Well,” answered Gail, slowly, ”they may go, if you wish them so badly.
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