Chapter ELEVEN: When Mother Was a Little Girl

“Your mother was just three years old when your grandfather and I took her on the trip to Chicago and the World’s Fair, and through the ‘Soo’ to Mackinac Island by boat. It was a long trip for such a little child, but Jean was a remarkably good baby, and traveled wonderfully well.”

“I can still remember the huge Ferris Wheel at the Fair,” put in Mother, as Grandma paused; “but everything else is a blur.”

“Did Aunt Elsie go, too?” inquired Jeannette with interest.

“There wasn’t an Aunt Elsie in those days,” replied Grandma, with a smile, “and so we had only the one little girl to take.

“Jean was such a pretty child that I was very proud of her, and every one used to turn around to look at her on the street. She had great big dark eyes like Jeannette, and short chestnut-brown hair that she wore in a deep bang over her forehead.”

“And what did she wear, Grandmother?” asked Wiggles with interest.

“She wore a dress of that very material, Polly Wiggles, that you have chosen,--dark gray with bunches of scarlet cherries scattered over it, and a dark red coat with a big cape collar. Of course her dresses were long, as it was fashionable at that time for little girls to have frocks down to their ankles.”

“Just imagine,” cried Jet in horror. “How funny she must have looked. Did she wear pantalettes, too?”

Both Jeannette and Wiggles had read of the fancy pantalettes that were worn by the children in olden days.

Grandmother and Mother both had to stop their work and laugh, while Cubby joined in, although she hadn’t the slightest idea what the joke was about.

“Why, what’s so funny?” chorused the children, surprised at the mirth Jet’s remark had caused.

“My dear children,” gasped Grandma, “excuse us for laughing, but they didn’t even wear pantalettes in _my_ childhood days. It was away back in your great-grandmother’s time when those were worn, so of course Jean did not have them.”

“Oh, ‘way back in the dark ages,” exclaimed Wiggles so seriously that both Grandma and Mother started laughing anew.

“Jean wore the cunningest little scoop bonnet of shirred red silk,” went on Grandma, resuming her tale, “and she certainly was a picture with her rosy cheeks and great dark eyes. On her feet she had little strapped black slippers, and her dress was made with two pockets, in one of which she carried a tiny silk handkerchief embroidered in red cherries. It is the same one that you have in your doll trunk to-day, Wiggles.

“Jean was very funny on the boat, and not a bit afraid of the water; in fact, she was as good as a kitten most of the time, and a great pet with all the passengers, although she was very shy and did not make friends easily. There was one man, a Mr. Sam Brown, who played with her a great deal. He was a tall, very thin gentleman, with a little goatee, and I suppose hearing him called ‘Sam’ confused her, so that she associated him in her mind with the cartoons of ‘Uncle Sam’ in the newspapers, and insisted on calling him ‘Uncle Ham,’ much to his amusement. For Jean talked very, very crooked, and when we first reached Chicago she called it ‘He-cargo,’ while when we returned she had changed it to ‘She-cargo.’

“Several things happened on board boat that were laughable, and once I was very thankful that she talked so crookedly that no one could understand her.”

“There was a lady on board who really annoyed the child with attentions, asking her questions every minute, and keeping at her constantly to hear her funny talk, until Jean took a great dislike to her and wouldn’t have anything to say at all. One morning she had been teasing Jean for a long time, asking, over and over again, what her name was, and where she lived, and all kinds of things. But not a word would Jean utter. Finally the lady said, ‘Why won’t you talk to me, Jean?’

“‘’Cause,’ Jean said decidedly in the sweetest little voice, ‘you’re too “inquissia.”’”

“_What_ did she mean?” asked both children in astonishment.

“That was what the lady tried to find out. The child meant, ‘inquisitive,’ and it was the nearest she could pronounce it. I really couldn’t blame her, but for once I was most thankful for her crooked tongue.”

“It was the same afternoon that she played a trick on me that might have turned out seriously. I had gone with her to our stateroom to dress for dinner. I dressed her in her little red frock first, and she played busily around the room by herself while I was combing my hair. She had a great fondness for opening and shutting doors, so she slipped in and out of the room into the corridor several times, fussing with the key and turning the knob, and not making a bit of trouble. I was just slipping into my gown for dinner, when, after fumbling with the lock, she cried triumphantly, ‘I’se locked you in.’

“I thought, of course, that she was just playing, for she had never before turned a key, and the lock on our door worked very hard; but in some way or other her busy little fingers had managed it, and there I was, tightly locked in my stateroom while my mischievous baby was outside, free to go as she pleased.

“Of course I rushed over and tried the door, only to hear her feet pattering rapidly down the passage-way, although I called her to come back. I was nearly frantic. Her father was on deck, talking to some acquaintances, but it was not at all likely that Jean would go anywhere near him, now that she had this unexpected liberty, and of course he believed we were together in our room. No one could tell where she might take it into her head to roam, and it seemed as if my heart would stop beating as I thought of the possibility of her going on deck alone, and maybe falling overboard.”

“Why didn’t you ’phone the office?” asked Wiggles in much surprise, with a recollection of the telephone service in the hotel room when she had once stayed over night in New York.

“You must remember that we didn’t have all those conveniences then,” replied Grandma, “and the boats on the ‘Soo’ were not up-to-date, even for those times.

“I pounded and pounded on my door, hoping some one would hear me, but it was a long while before any one chanced by, and when I called out my predicament, it was discovered that naughty Jean had not only locked me in, but had taken the key with her as well.”

“Oh, Mother,” cried both little girls, “what ever made you do it?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t tell you,” laughed Mrs. Eaton, “for I was so little that I haven’t the faintest recollection of it at all.”

“Fortunately,” continued Grandmother, “Grandfather--only he wasn’t a grandfather then--had wondered why we were gone such an unusually long time, so, as I was explaining matters he came along, and of course hurried right out to hunt up the naughty little runaway immediately, and get the key to release me.”

“He found Jean on deck with another little girl, having a beautiful time eating oranges, of which she was very fond. He was very much relieved to find her safe and sound, and snugly tucked in her tiny pocket was the key. I had been locked in that stateroom an hour while she roamed around as she wished and explored the boat. It was most fortunate that she didn’t get into worse mischief.”

Both children were greatly diverted, and were just going to beg for another story, when Grandpa appeared in the doorway with a big paper package tucked under his arm.

“How are the little invalids?” he cried heartily. “You chickabiddies gave me a scare. I looked in your room, and you had gone, but I thought I heard a busy twittering down this way, and, sure enough, I find you’ve flown over to a new roost. Here is something warranted to keep you busy and out of mischief to-morrow,”--and he tossed the big parcel on the bed, where it was eagerly pounced upon by the little girls.

Cubby hastily put both bandaged hands behind her, but Grandpa saw them just the same as he leaned over to kiss her.

“Why, what’s all this?” he inquired. “Why the little pincushions? Have they been naughty paddies?”

A mute nod was the answer, as Cubby burrowed her curly head in his waistcoat.

“I think that they have been punished enough,” said Mrs. Eaton, leaning over to smooth the golden locks.

So Grandpa undid roll after roll, until the mischief-making pink snips of hands came into sight once more, and, with a rainbow smile, the wee bear scurried over to look at the interesting big bundle her sisters were unwrapping with many squeals of delight.

Inside was package after package of tissue and crêpe paper in every color and shade imaginable, and when they saw the pinks and the yellows, the dainty lavender and blues, they jounced up and down in the big bed until Grandpa declared that they had better “go easy” or he would have to sleep on the floor that night.

Of course all the basket patterns had been lost during the thunder-storm, but Miss Helen had called Sunday morning to inquire after the children, and had brought over plenty more, so they could make as many shapes and varieties of baskets as they wished.

“Oh, you darling Grandpa!” declared Wiggles, giving him a hug that nearly strangled him, while Jeannette and Cubby joined in until there was a great powwow.

“We’ve been hearing about how naughty Mother used to be,” said Wiggles with glee. Truth to tell, she had been greatly pleased to find that she wasn’t the only one who got into funny scrapes. “We heard all about the time when she locked Grandma in her stateroom.”

Grandpa leaned over and examined the quilt closely.

“Look here, youngsters,” he said. “Here’s a piece of your Grandmother’s wedding dress, and this is a snip from the very plaid necktie that I was wearing when I first spoke to the little girl who many years later became my wife, and who is now your Grandmother.”

“Oh, do tell us,” implored Jet.

“Yes, do,” coaxed Polly-Wiggles.

“I shall never forget that day,” went on Grandpa, with a teasing smile at the expectant faces before him.

“Grandfather Carr, that’s mean just to tease us! Please tell us,” implored both children, snarly black curls and smooth brown ones bent together over the fascinating story-quilt.

“You youngsters want to remember that you are invalids, and must not be excited,” returned Grandpa gravely, looking from one sparkling face to the other. “You must lie down quietly in a darkened room----”

“Grandpa Carr, you mean tease!” put in Jet, reading the twinkle in his eye.

“--and not be disturbed by _any_ conversation----”

Two deep groans interrupted him.

“--and have gruel and dry toast for your supper,” went on Grandpa gravely, watching the expression of disgust on each face.

“Ugh. Gruel--we _hate_ it.”

“And,” he continued as if there had been no interruption, “possibly by next week, or the week after, if you follow these directions _most_ carefully, you will be strong enough to stand hearing me tell a story.”

“_Grandpa!_ Next week or the week after! Aren’t you awful!”

“I only said _possibly_ even then,” reminded Grandfather, who dearly loved to tease.

“We won’t make you any May-baskets,” Wiggles said mischievously. “And just think how your heart would break at that.”

“Dear me, if that’s the case I’d better look over that quilt again,” exclaimed Grandpa in mock alarm. “But remember, youngsters, if you should have a collapse, that I warned you.”

“We’ll be _warned_,” giggled Wiggles, imitating her grandfather’s doleful tone and greatly enjoying his nonsense.

“Well, bless my soul. If there isn’t the very first valentine I ever sent to your grandmother when she was a little girl. Gracious, Elizabeth,”--speaking to Grandma,--“to think that you have kept it all these years.”

“Of course I have,” Grandmother returned spiritedly. “It was painted on white silk, and so I could easily sew it in my memory-quilt.”

The children hung entranced over the faded silk valentine, where two clasped hands were painted above a wreath of forget-me-nots, with the rhyme,

“Through rain, through snow, through sun and shine,
Sweet Valentine, will you be mine?”

in tarnished gold letters beneath.

“Oh, do go on and tell us about when you met Grandma,” reminded Wiggles, giving him an impatient nudge. “It’s just like a story-book.”

“Yes, and my fever is rising rapidly from the excitement of _not_ hearing,” laughed Jeannette.

“Dear me, if that’s the case, I’d better start at once. It wasn’t what you might call a regular introduction, when I first met your grandma,” said Grandfather, with a reluctant grin tugging at the corners of his mouth; “and it wasn’t the first time I had seen her and admired her either, although I didn’t know her to speak to.”

“Indeed it wasn’t,” retorted Grandma serenely. “You were always standing on your head, and turning somersaults, to make me look at you when I was anywhere around; and acting up and showing off in all kinds of silly ways.”

“Grandpa! Showing off, and ‘acting silly,’--imagine!” murmured Wiggles, patting his hand. “Do go on, Grandpa,--we’re listening.”