PEACE SURPRISES THE LADIES’ AID

“Girls, here are some eggs to be delivered,” said Gail one snowy December day as Cherry and Peace came stamping in from school. “One basket goes to Judge Abbott’s, and the other to Dr. Bainbridge’s.”

“Oh, Gail,” cried two protesting voices, “this is the afternoon we were to gather evergreens in the woods for decorating the church. The bazaar begins tomorrow. You promised we might go.”

“I had forgotten,” murmured Gail. “I am sorry, but the eggs must be delivered before night.”

“Why can’t Hope go this once?”

“She is taking care of the Edwards baby.”

“Where is Faith?”

“In bed with a headache.”

“She always has a headache when there are errands to be done.”

“Peace!”

“Those houses are the furthest apart in town. Dr. Bainbridge lives at one end of the street and the Judge at the other.”

“I am sorry, but eggs mean money, you know, and Christmas is coming.”

“Well, I s’pose we must,” sighed Cherry.

Peace’s face brightened suddenly. “I’ll tell you let’s each take a basket and see which can get there first. Then we’ll meet at the church and go to the woods from there.”

“All right,” agreed Cherry. “You take the Judge’s and I’ll take the Doctor’s.”

So they snatched up their burdens and hurried merrily away, much to gentle Gail’s relief, for she found it hard to disappoint these small sisters in their gala days.

As far as the church the two went the way together, but here their paths divided, and they parted, calling back warnings to each other.

“Be sure you wait at the church until I get there.”

“Be sure you hurry, for there isn’t much time before dark, and the women have to finish dec’rating tonight.”

Then how they scampered down the snowy street, regardless of the frailty of the loads they bore!

Peace’s errand was soon done, and she was back at the little church in a surprisingly short time, but no Cherry was in sight anywhere; so she sat down on the steps to await her coming. It was snowing quite hard now, and the wind grew cold as the afternoon waned.

“Seems ’s if I should freeze sitting here,” said the shivering child to herself after stamping her feet and flapping her arms like a Dutch windmill, in her efforts to get warm. “What can be keeping Cherry? She’s an awfully long time tonight. I s’pose Mrs. Bainbridge has got a gabbing streak on and will keep her there the rest of the day listening to her. Cherry never can get away when folks begin talking to her. I ought to have gone there myself. Bet it wouldn’t have taken me this long. My, but it’s growing cold! I wonder if I can’t get inside someway. I thought sure the ladies would be here before now, but I don’t see anyone about.”

She jumped to her feet and tried the door. It was locked fast.

“Maybe Mr. Strong is in his study and will let me stay there awhile.” But the study door was also secure. “Well, the basement window ain’t fastened, I know, ’cause ’twas only yesterday that Hec Abbott broke it with a snowball. I can crawl through that and go upstairs into the church.”

Scurrying around the building to the broken window, she crept cautiously through the sash, just big enough to admit her body; and dropped to the cement floor below. Considerably jarred for the window was high in the wall she gathered herself up and felt her way up the dark stairs to the main floor, relieved to find the hall door unlatched so she could step out into daylight once more.

“Must have been someone here already,” she exclaimed in surprise, “’cause the booths are all up and trimmed. Maybe they don’t want any more evergreens. Well, I’ll wait for Cherry and we will see then. P’raps some of the ladies are coming back, for the furnace is still burning.”

She made a tour of the church, admiring the pretty decorations, and amusing herself by climbing over the seats like a squirrel, while she waited for Cherry, who did not come. At length she grew tired, the rooms were warm and dim, and before she knew it she was becoming drowsy.

“I’ll just curl up in this old coat and rest a bit,” she thought. “Cherry will make noise enough so I will hear when she comes.” But before the belated sister reached the church Peace was fast asleep, and her ears were deaf to the trills and whistles outside. Thinking the younger girl had grown impatient at waiting and, regardless of her promise, had gone on to the woods, Cherry stopped only long enough to make sure that Peace was nowhere about the grounds before she hurried away to join her mates in evergreen gathering.

How long Peace slept she did not know, but the sound of voices in heated debate roused her from her nap, and she heard Mrs. Wardlaw’s sharp tones saying, “Well, I, for one, don’t believe in getting her a suit for Christmas. She dresses better now than most of us can afford. We never had a minister’s wife before who paraded the clothes she does.”

“But she came here a bride, practically,” remonstrated a less aggressive, but just as decided a voice, which Peace recognized as Mrs. Bainbridge’s. “They haven’t been married two years yet. Brides always have more clothes than any other women. Nevertheless, they wear out, and it doesn’t stand to reason that hers will last any longer than ours do.”

“She has worn at least three cloth suits since she came, besides all her summer finery, and two or three separate skirts. I suppose that is where all Brother Strong’s salary goes. Stylish! Why, she is a veritable fashion plate!”

“I don’t see how you can say that, Mrs. Wardlaw. She certainly looks very neat and up to date in everything she puts on, but I can’t see where there is any fashion plate about her. I call her a very sensible little woman, just the kind of a wife Brother Strong needs.”

“Well, I am not disputing how much sense she has, but I still declare that she has clothes enough now, without our furnishing her any more for Christmas.”

“That’s all you know about it!” cried an indignant voice behind them, and both startled ladies turned hastily around to find a pair of flashing brown eyes glaring out from under the janitor’s old coat in the corner, “If Mrs. Strong didn’t know how to cut and sew, she would be a pretty ragged looking minister’s wife by this time.”

Peace crawled out of her warm bed and shook an angry little finger accusingly at the women, who exclaimed in unison, “Peace Greenfield, how did you come here, and what do you want?”

“I don’t want anything. I clum in the window so’s I wouldn’t freeze while I was waiting for Cherry, and I guess I went to sleep. But I heard what you were saying, and it ain’t so, Mrs. Waddler! Mrs. Strong hasn’t got a lot of clothes. The parsonage burned up where they were last time, and ’most everything they had to wear was burned up, too. That pretty gray suit she had when they first came here she dyed brown after you upset a pot of coffee on it at the church supper that night. But the brown didn’t color even, so she ripped it to pieces and dyed it black. It was all wearing out, too, so she had to put some trimming on the skirt to cover up the holes. I was over there and saw her do it myself. She cut over her wedding dress to have something nice to wear last summer, and all those sep’rate skirts you talk about are some of her sister’s old ones. She hasn’t spent a cent for clothes since she bought her straw hat, and that cost two dollars and a half. Mr. Strong told me so, himself. He says she’s a jewel of a wife and if there were more women like her in the world there would be more happier homes. That’s just what he said. Ministers don’t get paid enough to keep them in victuals, hardly. I know, ’cause I am part of a minister’s family, if papa’s church in Pendennis hadn’t starved him out so he got sick and had to stop preaching, he might not be an angel now.

“S’posing you was a minister’s wife, how would you like to have folks be so stingy mean to you? Wouldn’t you like nice clothes to wear and good things to eat? I was there for supper one night last week when you lugged in a jug of buttermilk, Mrs. Waddler, you know you did, when you had promised her fresh milk. I heard you promise. Do you s’pose she could use buttermilk in her coffee or make custard pie out of it? She had told Mr. Strong that she was going to make one for his supper, and he was ’most as disappointed as I was when she couldn’t do it.

“Deacon Skinflint sent her some fresh eggs, too, that were so old you could smell ’em before the shells were broken. I told her ’twas a mercy he hadn’t sent her chiny nest eggs, and she laughed! If it had been you, Mrs. Waddler, you’d have jawed good!”

Peace paused for breath. Mr. Strong and his adorable little wife were her idols, and she could not bear to hear them slandered in any way, but she had forgotten herself, her manners, everything, in the defense of her friends; and now, realizing how rude she had been to one of these women confronting her, she dropped her head in shamed silence, and nervously twisted the skirt of her coat about her trembling hands, waiting for the lecture she felt that she deserved.

To her surprise, none came; but after an awkward pause, during which both women were doing some hard thinking, Mrs. Wardlaw said humbly, “Wouldn’t you like to go to Martindale with us some day next week and help us select material for Mrs. Strong’s new suit? Maybe you would know what she likes better than we do, Peace.”

Peace’s eyes shone with delight, but she answered mournfully, “I can’t, I am afraid, ’cause there’s school every day but Saturday, and that’s our Sunshine Club afternoon. I know what she likes best, though. I asked her once what kind of cloth made the prettiest suit, and she said she thought longcloth did navy blue longcloth.”

“She means broadcloth,” murmured Mrs. Bainbridge under her breath.

“Of course,” smiled Mrs. Wardlaw amiably. “So you think navy blue is what she would prefer?”

“Yes, she likes blue, and it just matches her eyes. Hasn’t she got the bluest eyes and the goldest hair? Just like Hope’s and Allée’s. A silk waist would be nice, too. She never had but one in her life.”

At this juncture a head was thrust through the hall door and an imperative voice called, “Mrs. Bainbridge, the children have come back just loaded down with greens. Come show us where you want them and we’ll hang them before supper time.”