Chapter XVII: And Its Consequences

NONE of "the Archaics" saw Gretta during the day that followed the visit to the school. On the second morning Miss Bradbury dispatched Mahlon--if a word suggesting speed may be used in connection with Mahlon's movements--down to the Neumanns' to purchase eggs. He was gone so long that his active wife, requiring the eggs for her morning baking, lost all patience waiting for him, threw her sunbonnet on her head, tied it with a snap of its starched strings that boded ill for Mahlon when she should have found him, and started down the road to bring eggs and delinquent husband home together at a quickstep.

It was so long before Rosie returned that the family really began to fear there was some serious reason for this second delay, when Rosie appeared, striding along at a tremendous pace. Mahlon loped after her at the respectful distance of five feet, with his usual effect of being about to go to pieces at all points at once.

"Thought I wa'n't never comin' back, I guess," said Rosie as she entered, setting down her basket of eggs with one hand, and jerking off her sunbonnet with the other. "I don't believe I kin git that there puddin' done fer dinner this day. But I had to stop and listen. There's great doin's down there to Neumanns'. Eunice's madder than I ever seen her. I guess she's makin' herself feel as mad as she kin; tryin' to make herself believe she's got an excuse fer puttin' Gretta out."

"Putting her out?" cried Happie. "You don't mean that literally?"

"Litterly or not," said Rosie, evidently in the dark as to the word, "I mean it fer the plain truth. I guess she's been plottin' some time back how to make a fuss over something and tell Gretta she won't keep her no longer. Now she's takin' your visit to the school, and your insult--so she calls it--to her teacher--her cousin, I mean the teacher--as a handle, and she says Gretta can't stay in her house after what she done."

"Why, Rosie!" cried Mrs. Scollard.

"It's jest as I say," Rosie asserted, as if her veracity were questioned. "Gretta feels dreadful, but it don't do no good fer her to tell 'em Hattie took it all right, and liked the fun, yet. Eunice says she's insulted her cousin and made a bad return fer all she's done fer her, and she won't keep her another day."

"But Rosie, there wasn't the slightest tinge of malice in it; it was only a girl's harmless prank played on--and at last with--another girl," protested Mrs. Scollard. Even Miss Bradbury sat erect in considerable excitement as she listened, while Margery and Happie looked aghast at this unexpected result of harmless fun.

"Why, I guess I know that!" cried Rosie. "Hattie's even been up there herself yet, and told Eunice she wasn't insulted--thought it was fun, but it didn't do no good. I tell you what it is--and Gretta's said this herself to me this good while back--Eunice Neumann's so mad to think the girl's havin' better times that it makes her crazy to do something, she don't know what. She's made up her mind either you've got to take Gretta and keep her, or let her to the miserable, lonely times she was havin' when Happie took a fancy to her. She's threatened Gretta more'n once to drop her and leave her fine friends look after her, if they think so much of her! Gretta's been awful worried fer fear Eunice'd say something to you yet. Poor girl, she hain't got much of her cousins into her; she's took all her ways from the other side and a sensible thing she did when she done it! But now Eunice's goin' to put her out and leave her set by the roadside till somebody picks her up. I guess she thinks you'll do it, and Gretta's sick, she's so ashamed, and hurt, and angry, and all sorts of ways to oncet."

"Poor little girl!" exclaimed Miss Bradbury, as Happie turned to her in mute appeal. "And for such a trifling pretext as that playful visit to the school! We agreed before you went that there was no chance of offending any one. Happie came home and reported that the little teacher thought it as good a joke as they did."

"Why, good gracious, hain't I said so?" cried Rosie. "And hain't Hattie herself said so, and to Eunice yet? It hain't nothin' in this world but an excuse; a poor excuse, says you, and I should say it was, and I guess Eunice knows it as well as either of us. She says 'twouldn't have been done if Hattie hadn't been her cousin--now did you ever hear tell of such nonsense? But nonsense or not, she says Gretta's got to go, and that's more'n nonsense. But you needn't worry about that, because it had got to come on some poor excuse or other, and I guess in the end she'll be better off without them cross women. Reba wouldn't be so bad, but she hain't got the backbone to stand up against Eunice; I guess she's about flaxed all the time herself, gettin' scolded."

"I suppose the only question is: What can be done about it?" suggested Margery timidly. For the first time she and Happie were painfully conscious that they were not in their own home. It would not do to ask Miss Bradbury to shelter another in the Ark; the suggestion must come from her.

At that moment Bob burst into the room. All the time that they had been listening to Rosie's tale, they had seen through the window Mahlon out in front talking to Bob with his usual accompaniment of swaying arm and leg, talking with so much earnestness that Mrs. Scollard had found time in the midst of her interest in Rosie's news to wonder what could be the matter with Mahlon.

"Mahlon's been telling me what's happened down at the Neumanns'," cried Bob excitedly. "Did you ever hear of such an outrageous piece of injustice? Say, shall I harness up, and go right down to fetch Gretta? Of course you're going to have her here, aren't you?"

Never before had Happie fully realized the inestimable advantage of being a boy who did not stop to consider delicate issues, but blurted out what he wanted to say, oblivious to consequences. And it was evidently not a case for hesitation, for Miss Bradbury promptly said: "Indeed I am!"

She got no further, for Happie hurled herself at her with such enthusiasm that though she was stoutly built, her Aunt Keren staggered backward under the onslaught, fell against Mrs. Scollard, standing close behind her, and all three, Miss Bradbury, Mrs. Scollard and Happie went down in a heap on the floor, to the consternation of Polly, looking on, and the unbounded joy of Penny, who jumped up and down on the sofa where she was playing, clapping her hands and shouting till Jeunesse Dorée leaped from his pleasant doze, swelling up to four times his natural size.

"Oh, Happie," gasped Miss Bradbury struggling to her feet. "Do be careful. You certainly are growing much bigger."

"Say, Happie, you want to look out how you let yourself go," protested Bob, helping his adopted aunt to her feet, with a hand for his mother, who was laughing too heartily to rise unaided.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, dear Auntie Keren!" cried Happie with as much contrition as was compatible with amusement. "You're not hurt, are you? Nor motherums?"

"Only in my dignity," said philosophical Miss Bradbury getting up. "And I am less flexible than some years ago."

"I'm injured in the same way; in my dignity only. It is not seemly that the mother of six children should be bowled over like a nine-pin," said Mrs. Scollard, settling the hairpins which were starting out on all sides of her tumbled hair.

"I never saw any one so fitted to be the mother of sixty as you are!" cried Happie with conviction. "You keep us in order--we're the best children in the world, of course!--and yet you are just as young as we are, and you never misunderstand! And Aunt Keren is so dear! I didn't mean to bowl you over, you two blessed treasures, but Aunt Keren was such a darling to say: 'Indeed I am!' so promptly, as if there weren't the least possibility of doing anything else but take in Gretta that I couldn't help flying at her! And I really think, Aunt Keren, you must have been standing rather shakily!"

"I am willing to admit resting more weight on one foot than on the other," returned Miss Bradbury. "Do I gather from your words and your movements, your calm and deliberate movements, that you are willing to shelter Gretta, now that she is abandoned?"

"Oh, Aunt Keren!" was all that Happie said, but it seemed a satisfactory reply, for Miss Bradbury warmly returned the kiss that Happie gave her, and went to her desk.

"I think the best way to arrange it is to accept Bob's offer to go after Gretta himself," she said. "If I go I shall subject myself to all sorts of disagreeable remarks. Margery cannot, and certainly her mother must not go to be railed at, while Happie might possibly be led to air her opinion of Miss Neumann's behavior, which would never do at all. So I'll write a note to Gretta, Bob, and you can take it, and if Rosie is right that matters are so bad with the poor child you will bring her home with you."

"Well, I guess!" ejaculated Rosie. "I hain't told you half of how bad they are. I hain't told you one word of what Eunice said."

"Better not. It would be disagreeable and useless hearing," said Miss Bradbury as she drew her paper towards her, glanced at the calendar, and dipped her pen in the ink to begin a note to Gretta.

In a few moments she blotted the note and turned to read it to the assembled family; Bob had already departed for the barn to make Don Dolor ready.

"My dear Gretta," Miss Bradbury read, "Rosie has come back with the story of your wrongs. I am sorry, my dear girl, that you should be unkindly and unjustly treated, for your sake. But for our own I am tempted to be glad of that which gives me the opportunity to say that you must come at once to us, to stay with us, either here or in town, until you have found somewhere else where you can be happier. But I am sure that you cannot soon find friends who will love you better than we do, nor be more glad of the chance to have you all to themselves, and all the time, than we are. The girls are beside themselves at the thought of your coming, not to go away again for nobody knows how long! Come back with Bob; do not keep us waiting. We have long wished that we might have you, so come at once to

Your loving friends (represented by)

KEREN-HAPPUCH BRADBURY."

"Just the very sort of note to write Gretta, Aunt Keren!" cried Happie flying to hug her again in a rapture, while Margery said, with more quiet pleasure: "I am sure that will not only bring her, but set at rest any doubt she may have of being welcome."

"It is so simple and earnest that she can't fail to understand it, and be comforted," said Mrs. Scollard, as Miss Keren-happuch went out to give the note to Bob, with a few last hints as to how to bear himself, and what to say and to leave unsaid at the seat of war. "I suppose we must get ready that little room, Miss Keren? Shall I see to it?"

"Yes," Miss Keren called back, answering both questions at once.

"There never was, there never could be another such mother as ours!" cried Happie, as her mother followed Miss Keren-happuch from the room. "Even if that Baltimore creature you met at Bar Harbor"--Happie could not bring herself to speak respectfully of the new friend, whose interest in Margery she found hard to forgive--"even if he is nice you couldn't like him better than such a mother, now could you, Margery?"

"No, indeed!" cried Margery, so heartily that Happie was pacified. She knew from stories, as well as Scripture, that when there was danger of losing beloved sisters through the coming of charming young men, the interlopers were preferred to all else--evidently Margery was safe, at least for the present.

In great excitement the family watched Bob driving out of the gate on his errand. Although Gretta ran in and out of the house daily, it was another matter to expect her coming on an indefinite visit, in the rôle of a homeless girl coming to them for shelter and protection. It was this thought that sent Margery and Happie from the window and up-stairs with shining eyes and quickened breath to help make ready for Gretta's reception.

The Ark was not a large house; it was already severely taxed to shelter its inmates, and it was something of a problem to know where to put Gretta.

Good Rosie postponed her dinner to combine it with her tea, and fell to cleaning a tiny room, which had been roughly finished, over the storage room back of the kitchen. It had never been plastered, but it was not an unpleasant little nook "when the dust of ages and of departed Bittenbenders had been cleaned away," Happie said, letting in the southern sunshine, which it faced.

There was an unused iron bedstead among the importations from town; this was brought forth for Gretta's use, and Margery and Happie went about gleaning here and there a table, a chair, a dresser, until they had rather more than the little room would hold, and no one the poorer to all appearances.

There was no more than time for Rosie to get the room swept, the floor scrubbed, and the windows cleared of their crust of dusty cobwebs before Don Dolor appeared trotting up the road, and Miss Bradbury and Mrs. Scollard headed the group of girls who ran down-stairs to be ready to welcome Gretta.

The poor girl needed a cheering greeting. She stepped out of the carriage, her face swollen out of all semblance to its pretty self, and broke into sobbing afresh as Miss Bradbury took her in her arms, with a tenderness none who did not know her well would have looked for in that brisk lady. Mrs. Scollard kissed the girl with her own motherliness, which was so beautiful to Gretta, who had never known a mother. Happie seized her next in one of the warmest of hugs, her bright bronze hair getting mixed up with her kisses in a way it had, and which always made Gretta laugh. She smiled now, a watery smile, and received Margery's loving welcome as cordially as it was given; Gretta looked up to gentle Margery as to a superior being.

"If you knew how glad we all are to get you here, Gretta, my duck, you'd suspect us of bribing Eunice to treat you as she has. But really and truly we're not guilty of setting her up to this meanness, though it is such a lucky thing for us," said Happie, folding her arm around Gretta, and conducting her into the house. Gretta actually leaned on Happie for support; she was so spent with tempestuous crying that there was little of her own fine vigor left upon which to lean.

Happie led her into the dining-room, and set her in the rocking-chair by the window. Then she took off Gretta's hat, while Margery went to get the coffee which was waiting, ready and hot, on the stove. They were all shocked by the tragic expression of Gretta's face, and the mark of suffering which the past forty-eight hours had set upon it.

"Suppose I hadn't you?" whispered Gretta, leaning back upon Happie as if utterly weary.

"I can't suppose anything of the sort; you belong to us. I knew you were mine the moment I saw you painting that fence last spring," said Happie, stroking the dark hair with a warm, clinging hand.

Gretta drank her coffee and felt better for it, the first food that she had tasted that day. Then Happie took her up to her own and Margery's room and got her to lie down beside her on the bed. There the view of the mountains which she loved would assure the girl so suddenly deprived of the only home which she had known, that not only her new friends, but the dearest of her old ones were left to guard her. For in her short life there had been nothing so dear to Gretta as the beautiful country in which she was born.

Wise Happie did not let Gretta talk. She lay beside her, still stroking her hair and crooning low a song that Gretta loved. And Gretta was too spent to try to talk, too hurt to have any desire to repeat the unkind things which had been said to her during that cruel day, and its preceding night. She held Happie's other hand tight in both of hers and laid her burning cheek upon it. And before long sleep came to begin the blessed work of Gretta's comforting and her establishment in a happier life.

The good friends who had taken Gretta into their hearts and home skilfully let her slip into the changed order of things as easily as possible. They learned from Bob what sort of an interview he had had with Eunice Neumann when he came to carry off Gretta. Bob said that "Rosie's account of things was not a patch on the reality, because no white man could imagine a woman cutting up as Gretta's cousin had." So Gretta was not encouraged to give details of her expulsion; instead "the Archaics" cheerfully set their wits to work to devise means to help her forget what was, after all, unforgettable. The furnishing of her little room proved to be the best distraction for Gretta. Bob drove her down, with Margery, Happie and Laura, to buy silkaline for her curtains, and they came back with "as pretty a pattern as they could have found in New York," Margery triumphantly announced on their return.

The girls made this silkaline into short curtains and ruffled chair cushions for Gretta's room, and flounced a packing-case with it for her dresser, it having been discovered that the dresser which they had selected for Gretta's use was Miss Bradbury's reserve storehouse, for special supplies.

Bob plastered the walls roughly, in which Gretta rendered so efficient help that once more Bob's opinion of her rose a notch. She could plaster better than he could! "And no wonder," Gretta declared, "after the plastering and kalsomining I've had to help with at Eunice's!"

When the walls were covered with the rough plaster, Bob and Gretta tinted them with colored kalsomine, a soft green that was really artistic. Against this wall the pretty green silkaline, with its brown chestnut burr pattern, swung so harmoniously that Gretta pranced up and down for joy as she fell back to see the effect, and Happie took a header into the snowy white little enameled bed to give vent to her satisfaction.

"'He took the animals two by two,'" chanted Bob. "We'll have to make new verses for our Ark, Hapsie; we catch our animals singly."

"Am I an animal?" asked Gretta, opening her eyes at him in pretended offense.

"All human beings are animals, Miss Gretta," said Bob. "It rests solely with yourself whether you will be a beast."

"I think I like some beasts better than human beings," Gretta began, but got no further, for Happie sat up and began saying: "Gretta, better, debtor, getter--get her--letter, met her--oh, yes! Wetter! I've got it. Listen, Bob!"

Bob refused to listen. Instead he said: "For pity's sake, Happie, don't spring anything on us made of such rhymes as those samples! Only a Boston girl, with all her r's turned into h's, would rhyme better and letter and wetter with Gretta."

"I think it would be nice to write a real poem on Gretta's flying to the ark for refuge," said Laura, surveying the improvements in the room from the doorway with lofty approval.

Gretta turned a beaming face upon Margery, Bob and Happie. "I never had such a bright, pretty room before," she cried, "Eunice never did anything except for plain, horrid, sensible use. I sometimes felt as if I should go crazy if I couldn't have something that was no good but to be pretty. And now look at this room! Oh, you good, dear people! I'm so thankful, and I'm beginning to be so happy! I never was happy in all my life, except for little minutes, out of doors. Do you suppose the animals were glad that there was a flood that drove them into the ark? For this animal is glad enough to be in this Ark!"