Part 15 (1/2)

”May I?” asked Harry, as if he had just come, leaning down over the rail, and speaking to Barbara, who faced about with a jump.

She knew by his look; he could not keep in the fun.

”'_May_ you'? When you have, already!”

”O no, I haven't! I mean, come down? Into the one-pleasant-little-place, and help?”

”You don't know the way,” Barbara said, stolidly, turning back again, and folding up the waist.

”Don't I? Which,--to come down, or to help?” and Harry flung himself over the rail, clasped one hand and wrist around a copper water-pipe that ran down there, reached the other to something-above the window,--the mere pediment, I believe,--and swung his feet lightly to the sill beneath. Then he dropped himself and sat down, close by Barbara's elbow.

”You'll get sprinkled,” said she, flouris.h.i.+ng the corn-whisk over a table-cloth.

”I dare say. Or patted, or punched, or something. I knew I took the risk of all that when I came down amongst it. But it looked nice. I couldn't help it, and I don't care!”

Barbara was thinking of two things,--how long he had been there, and what in the world she had said besides what she remembered; and--how she should get off her rough-dried ap.r.o.n.

”Which do you want,--napkins or pillow-cases?” and he came round to the basket, and began to pull out.

”Napkins,” says Barbara.

The napkins were underneath, and mixed up; while he stooped and fumbled, she had the ruffled petticoat off over her head. She gave it a shower in such a hurry, that as Harry came up with the napkins, he did get a drift of it in his face.

”That won't do,” said Barbara, quite shocked, and tossing the whisk aside. ”There are too many of us.”

She began on the napkins, sprinkling with her fingers. Harry spread up a pile on his part, dipping also into the bowl. ”I used to do it when I was a little boy,” he said.

Ruth took the pillow-cases, and so they came to the last. They stretched the sheets across the table, and all three had a hand in smoothing and showering.

”Why, I wish it weren't all done,” says Harry, turning over three clothes-pins in the bottom of the basket, while Barbara b.u.t.toned her sleeves. ”Where does this go? What a nice place this is!” looking round the clean kitchen, growing shadowy in the evening light. ”I think your house is full of nice places.”

”Are you nearly ready, girls?” came in mother's voice from above.

”Yes, ma'am,” Harry answered back, in an excessively cheery way.

”We're coming”; and up the stairs all three came together, greatly to Mrs. Holabird's astonishment.

”You never know where help is coming from when you're trying to do your duty,” said Barbara, in a high-moral way. ”Prince Percinet, Mrs.

Holabird.”

”Miss Polly-put--” began Harry Goldthwaite, br.i.m.m.i.n.g up with a half-diffident mischief. But Barbara walked round to her place at the table with a very great dignity.

People think that young folks can only have properly arranged and elaborately provided good times; with Germania band pieces, and bouquets and ribbons for the German, and oysters and salmon-salad and sweatmeat-and-spun-sugar ”chignons”; at least, commerce games and bewitching little prizes. Yet when lives just touch each other naturally, as it were,--dip into each other's little interests and doings, and take them as they are, what a multiplication-table of opportunities it opens up! You may happen upon a good time any minute, then. Neighborhoods used to go on in that simple fas.h.i.+on; life used to be ”co-operative.”

Mother said something like that after Leslie and Harry had gone away.

”Only you can't get them into it again,” objected Rosamond. ”It's a case of Humpty Dumpty. The world will go on.”

”_One_ world will,” said Barbara. ”But the world is manifold. You can set up any kind of a monad you like, and a world will shape itself round it. You've just got to live your own way, and everything that belongs to it will be sure to join on. You'll have a world before you know it. I think myself that's what the Ark means, and Mount Ararat, and the Noachian--don't they call it?--new foundation. That's the way they got up New England, anyhow.”

”Barbara, what flights you take!”