Part 22 (1/2)
At first it seemed incredible that any one would buy clothing which for years had hung in closets, or been packed in trunks away from moths and carpet bugs. But what had been done in other places could be done in District No. 5, and never was a more heterogeneous ma.s.s of goods of every description gathered together than was sent to the Rummage rooms the day before the sale, and dumped upon tables and chairs and boxes, until they nearly reached the rather low ceiling. There were old bonnets and hats, and boots and shoes and dresses, and coats and trousers and vests, and draperies and dishes, and stoves and chairs and tables and bedsteads, with books and old magazines and toys.
There was Mrs. Biggs's foot-stove and warming-pan, which had been her mother's, and a bra.s.s kettle, which had belonged to her grandmother, and which Mrs. Parker, the lady from western New York, said was the most valuable of all the articles sent. Antiques were sure to sell to relic hunters, and a big price must be put upon them, she told the committee who looked in dismay at the piles of goods as they came pouring in, wondering how they were ever to bring anything like order out of the confusion. They could not have done it without Mrs. Parker and Ruby Ann, the latter of whom had obtained permission to dismiss school for two days, and worked early and late. She had laid siege to the Crompton House, from which most of the others shrank. The Colonel was a rather formidable old fellow to meet, if he was in a mood with twinges in his foot, while Mrs. Amy was scarcely well enough known to the people generally to make them care to interview her.
On the strength of having been to school with her and known her since ”she was knee high,” Mrs. Biggs offered to call upon her, but declined seeing the Colonel, who, she heard, didn't believe in the Rummage. Ruby Ann, however, was selected as the fittest person to see both, and had undertaken the task with her usual a.s.surance and energy. She found Amy a fine subject. The idea of giving always appealed to her, and she began at once to think of what she would send. The dresses she had worn as a concert singer were hateful to her, and she brought them from a closet and spread them upon chairs and tables, while Ruby looked on admiringly and wonderingly, too, as fans and gloves and sashes and ribbons were laid with the dresses, and Amy grew more excited and eager every moment.
”We'll go to the attic now,” she said; ”my doll house is there.”
They climbed the stairs and found the house packed away as it had been for years.
”It may as well be sold and make some child happy,” Amy said as she took off its wrappings.
In it was Mandy Ann, the doll the Colonel had bought in Savannah, and Judy, lying on her face in a pile of dust. Amy took her up tenderly, saying, ”Do you think anybody will buy her?”
There was a little choke in her voice as she asked the question, for the sight of Judy had stirred memories which often flitted through her weak brain and puzzled her, they were so misty and yet so sweet, like the negro melodies she hummed to herself or sang to an imaginary baby.
”Buy her? I guess they would,” Ruby Ann replied, all her blood astir at the thought of the doll house, with Judy and Mandy Ann.
She knew nothing of their antecedents, or how they were connected with Amy's childhood, but she felt intuitively that almost any price put upon them would be paid because they belonged to Mrs. Amy, and particularly because of the dilapidated appearance of Judy, which was sure to rouse the mirth of the spectators. She was very doubtful as to whether she ought to take the dresses without consulting some one besides Amy, to whom she said, ”Are you sure you want to give these away? They are different from anything we shall have, and will seem out of place.”
For a moment Amy looked at her with a strange glitter in her eyes, as she said, ”I hate them! I have been going to burn them more than once.
You don't know what they represent to me. I shall burn them, or tear them, if you don't take them.”
She made a motion as if she were going to tear one of the lace flounces, when Ruby Ann stopped her by saying, ”Don't, Mrs. Amy,--please don't.
I'll take the dresses, of course. I only feared you might be giving too much, with the doll house and Mandy Ann and Judy. I want _them_, sure.”
”Yes,” Amy said, her mood changing. ”Take them all; but don't try to improve them,--Mandy Ann and Judy, I mean.”
There was another choke in her voice as she smoothed Judy's old brown dress, and brushed a bit of bran from her face. There was no danger that Ruby would try to change either Mandy Ann or Judy. They were perfect as they were, and telling Amy when the articles would be sent for, she left her and went to interview the Colonel, antic.i.p.ating a different reception from what she had received from Mrs. Amy.
”Better not handle him to-day; he had some awful twinges this morning,”
Peter said, after she had ”picked him clean,” as he expressed it, ”and scarcely left him a shoe to his foot or a coat to his back.”
Ruby knew she could not come again, and in spite of Peter's advice, resolved to beard the lion at once. She found him, with his lame foot on a cus.h.i.+on, and a not very encouraging look on his face. He had liked Ruby ever since she first came to be examined as to her qualifications for a teacher, and he had found her rooted and grounded in the fundamentals, and he had taken sides stoutly for her when the question of normal graduates came up and Eloise had won the day. Ruby Ann's head was level, he always said, and when she was ushered into his room, he greeted her with as much of a smile as he could command, with his foot aching as it did. But the smile faded when she told him her errand, and said she was sure he would be glad to contribute either in money or clothing to so good a cause as the public library. The Colonel had not been consulted with regard to the library, except to be asked if he didn't think it would be a fine thing for the school and neighborhood generally. He was not very often consulted about anything now. Plans were made without him, and he was only asked to contribute, which he generally did.
Now, however, his back was up, Peter said to Ruby Ann, warning her of what she was to expect. He didn't believe in turning attics and cellars and barns inside out and scattering microbes by the millions. How did any one know what germs were lurking in old clothes? He knew a man who died of smallpox, and twenty-five years after his death a coat, which had hung in his closet, was given away, taking the disease with it to three or four people. No, he didn't believe in a Rummage. It was just a fad, got up by those who were always seeking for something new, and he wouldn't give a thing, not even an old stock such as he used to wear, and of which Ruby Ann knew he must have several.
”Who under heavens would buy an old stock, and why?” he asked, and Ruby Ann replied, ”Just because it is an old stock and belonged to you.”
The ”belonged to you” mollified him a little, as it flattered his vanity, but the idea struck him as ridiculous, and he would not give in, and as Ruby Ann grew more and more persistent, telling of the antiques gathered up, and among them Mrs. Biggs's warming-pan and foot-stove and bra.s.s kettle,--old Mrs. Baker's quill wheel, and some other old lady's wedding bonnet, he grew furious and swore about the Rummage Sale, and might have sworn at Ruby Ann if she had not discreetly withdrawn and left him to himself and his twinges.
She was rather chagrined over her failure with the Colonel, from whom she had expected so much, but her success with Amy and the other members of the household made amends, and she left tolerably well satisfied with her work. She had not been gone long when Peter was summoned by a sharp ring to his master's room, and found him sitting very erect in his chair, listening intently to sounds overhead, where there was the scurrying of feet mingled with Amy's voice and that of her maid, as box after box was dragged across the floor.
”Peter!” the Colonel began, ”shut the door!”
Peter had shut it and stood with his back against it, as the Colonel went on, ”What in thunder is all that racket in the attic? Has the Rummage come up there? It commenced some time ago. Sounded as if they were pulling out trunks, then it stopped, and now they are at it again.”
”That's just it. Mrs. Amy and Sarah were looking for something for the sale, and now, I suppose, they are pus.h.i.+ng the boxes back. Mrs. Amy is greatly interested. I've never seen her so much like herself since she was a girl,” was Peter's reply, whereupon the Colonel consigned the Rummage to perdition, with its old pots and kettles, and Mrs. Biggs's warming-pan and foot-stove and bra.s.s kettle, and Granny Baker's quill wheel and Mrs. Allen's wedding bonnet. Who was going to buy such truck?
”And Peter,” he said, in a lower tone of voice, ”what do you think? Ruby Ann actually asked for my trousers! Yes, my trousers! And when I told her I hadn't any but what were s.h.i.+ny at the knees, she said it didn't matter; in fact, the s.h.i.+ne would be all the better, showing they had been worn. They'd label 'em 'Col. Crompton's,' and hang them up with the valuables,--meaning Widow Biggs's warming-pan and foot-stove, and Widow Allen's bonnet, and that other old woman's quill wheel, I dare say.
Think of it, Peter. My coat and trousers! She asked for a coat, too,--strung on a line with warming-pans and quill wheels and bonnets a hundred years old, and the Lord only knows what else, and labelled 'Col.