CHAPTER 10
The Milligans
To the moment of Grandma Pike's departure, all their neighbors had beenso pleasant that the girls were deceived into thinking that neighborswere never anything _but_ pleasant. Although they felt not the slightestmisgiving as to their future neighbors, they had hated to lose dear oldGrandma Pike, who had always been as good to them as if she had reallybeen their grandmother, and whose parting gifts--sundry odds and endsof dishes, old magazines, and broken parcels of provisions--gave themoccupation for many delightful days. In spite of the lasting pleasure ofthis unexpected donation, however, they could not help feeling that,with Mr. Black away, Miss Blossom gone, Mrs. Pike living in anothertown, and only disabled Mrs. Crane left, they were losing friends withalarming rapidity. Grief for the departed, however, did not preventtheir taking an active interest in the persons who were to occupy thehouse next door, which Mrs. Pike's departure had left vacant.
"I wonder," said Marjory, pulling the curtain back to get a better viewof the empty house, "what the new people will be like. It's exciting,isn't it, to have something happening in this quiet neighborhood? Whatdid Grandma Pike say the name was?"
"Milligan," replied Bettie.
"Kind of nice name, isn't it?" asked Jean.
"Yes," agreed Mabel, brightening suddenly. "I made up a long, long rhymeabout it last night before I went to sleep. Want to hear it?"
"Of course."
"This one really rhymes," explained Mabel, importantly. Her versessometimes lacked that desirable quality, so when they did rhyme Mabelalways liked to mention it. "Here it is:
"As soon as a man named Milligan Got well he always fell ill again--ill again--ill--
"Dear me, I can't remember how it went. There was a lot more, but I'veforgotten the rest."
"It's a great pity," said Marjory, drily, "that you didn't forget _all_of it, because if there's really a Mr. Milligan, and I ever see him,I'll think of that rhyme and I won't be able to keep my face straight."
"We must be very polite to the Milligans," said considerate Bettie, "andcall on them as soon as they come. Mother always calls on new people;she says it makes folks feel more comfortable to be welcomed into theneighborhood."
"Mrs. Crane does it, too. We're the nearest, perhaps we ought to be thefirst."
"I think," suggested Jean thoughtfully, "we'd better wait until they'renicely settled; they might not like visitors too soon. You know _we_didn't."
"They're going to move in today," said Mabel. "Goodness! I wish they'dhurry and come; I'm so excited that I keep dusting the same shelf overand over again. I'm just wild to see them!"
It was sweeping-day at the cottage when the Milligans' furniture beganto arrive, but it looked very much as if the sweeping would last for atleast _two_ days because the girls were unable to get very far away fromthe windows that faced west. These were the bedroom windows, and, asthere were only two of them, there were usually two heads at eachwindow.
"There comes the first load," announced Marjory, at last. "There's ahigh-chair on the very top, so there must be a baby."
"I'm so glad," said Bettie. "I just love a baby."
Two men unpacked the Milligans' furniture in the Milligans' front yard,and each load seemed more interesting than the one before it. It wassuch fun to guess what the big, clumsy parcels contained, particularlywhen the contents proved to be quite different from what the girlsexpected.
"Somehow, I don't think they're going to be very nice people," saidMabel. "I b'lieve we're going to be disappointed in 'em."
"Why, Mabel," objected Jean, "we don't know a thing about them yet."
"Yes, I do too. Their things--look--they don't look _ladylike_."
"Oh, Mabel," laughed Marjory, "you're so funny."
"Perhaps," offered Jean, "the Milligans are poor and the children havespoiled things."
"No," insisted Mabel. "They've got some of the newest and shiningestfurniture I ever saw, but I b'lieve it's imitation."
"Oh, Mabel," laughed Jean, "I hope you won't watch the loads when _I_move. For a girl that's slept for three weeks on an imitation pillow,you're pretty critical."
Presently the Milligans themselves arrived. Mabel happened to becounting the buds on the poppy plants when they came.
"Girls!" she cried, rushing into the cottage with the news. "They'vecome. I saw them all. There's a Mr. Milligan, a Mrs. Milligan, a girl, aboy, a baby, and a dog. The girl's the oldest. She's just about mysize--I mean height--and she has straight, light hair. The baby walks,and none of them are so very good-looking."
It did not take the newcomers long to discover that their next-doorneighbors were four little girls. Mrs. Milligan found it out that veryafternoon when she went to the back door to borrow tea. Bettieexplained, very politely, that Dandelion Cottage was only a playhouse,and that their tea-caddy contained nothing but glass beads. When Mrs.Milligan returned to her own house, she told her own family about it.
"You might as well run over and play with them, Laura," she said. "Takethe baby with you, too. He's a dreadful nuisance under my feet. That'llbe a real nice place for you both to play all summer."
The girls received their visitors pleasantly; almost, indeed, withenthusiasm; but after a very few moments, they began to eye the babywith apprehension. He refused to make friends with them but wanderedabout rather lawlessly and handled their treasures roughly. Laura paidno attention to him but talked to the girls. She seemed a bright girland not at all bashful, and she used a great many slang phrases thatsounded new and, it must be confessed, rather attractive to the girls.
"Oh, land, yes," she said, "we came here from Chicago where we had allkinds of money, and clothes to burn--we lived in a beautiful flat. Pajust came here to oblige Mr. Williams--he's going to clerk in Williams'sstore. Come over and see me--we'll be real friendly and have lots ofgood times together--I can put you up to lots of dodges. Say, this is adandy place to play in--I'm coming over often."
Jean looked in silence at Bettie, Bettie at Mabel, and Mabel at Marjory.Surely such an outburst of cordiality deserved a fitting response, butno one seemed to be able to make it.
"Do," said Jean, finally, but rather feebly, "we'd be pleased to haveyou."
Except for a few lively but good-natured squabbles between Marjory, whowas something of a tease, and Mabel, who was Marjory's favorite victim,the little mistresses of Dandelion Cottage had always played together inperfect harmony; but with the coming of the Milligans everything waschanged.
To start with, between the Milligan baby and the Milligan dog, the girlsknew no peace. Mrs. Milligan was right when she said that the baby was anuisance, for it would have been hard to find a more troublesomethree-year-old. He pulled down everything he could reach, broke thegirls' best dishes, wiped their precious petunia and the geraniumscompletely out of existence, and roared with a deep bass voice if anyoneattempted to interfere with him. The dog carried mud into the neatlittle cottage, scratched up the garden, and growled if the girls triedto drive him out.
"Well," said Mabel, disconsolately, in one of the rare moments when thegirls were alone, "I _could_ stand the baby and the dog. But I _can't_stand Laura!"
"Laura certainly likes to boss," said Bettie, who looked pale andworried. "I don't just see what we're going to do about it. I try to benice to her, but I _can't_ like her. Mother says we must be polite toher, but I don't believe Mother knows just what a queer girl she is--yousee she's always as quiet as can be when there are grown people around."
"Yes," agreed Mabel, "her company manners are so much properer than minethat Mother says she wishes I were more like her."
"Well," said Marjory, uncompromisingly, "I'm mighty glad you're not.Your manners aren't particularly good, but you haven't two sets. Ithink Laura's the most disagreeable girl I ever knew. Just as she foolsyou into almost liking her, she turns around and scratches you."
"Perhaps," said Jean, "if her people were nicer--By the way, Mother saysthat after this we must keep the windows shut
while Mr. Milligan issplitting wood in his back yard so we can't hear the awful things hesays, and that if we hear Mr. and Mrs. Milligan quarreling again wemustn't listen."
"Listen!" exclaimed Mabel. "We don't _need_ to listen. Their voices keepgetting louder and louder until it seems as if they were right in thishouse."
"Of course," said Marjory, "it can't be pleasant for Laura at home, but,dear me, it isn't pleasant for _us_ with her over here."
Badly-brought-up Laura was certainly not a pleasant playmate. She wantedto lead in everything and was amiable only when she was having her ownway. She was not satisfied with the way the cottage was arranged butrearranged it to suit herself. She told the girls that their garmentswere countrified, and laughed scornfully at Bettie's boyish frocks andheavy shoes. She ridiculed rotund Mabel for being fat, and said thatMarjory's nose turned up and that Jean's rather large mouth was a goodopening for a young dentist. Before the first week was fairly over, thefour girls--who had lived so happily before her arrival--were grieved,indignant, or downright angry three-fourths of the time.
Laura had one habit that annoyed the girls excessively, although atfirst they had found it rather amusing. Later, however, owing perhaps toa certain rasping quality in Laura's voice, it grew very tiresome. Shetransposed the initials of their names. For instance, Bettie Tuckerbecame Tettie Bucker, Jeanie Mapes became Meanie Japes, while Mabelbecame Babel Mennett. It was particularly distressing to have Lauraspeak familiarly in her sharp, half-scornful tones, of their dear,departed Miss Blossom, whose name was Gertrude, as Bertie Glossom. Mr.Peter Black, of course, became Beter Plack, and Mrs. Bartholomew Cranewas Mrs. Cartholomew Brane, to lawless young Laura.
"I don't think it's exactly respectful to do that to grown-up people'snames," protested Bettie, one day.
"Pooh!" said Laura. "Mrs. Cartholomew Brane looks just like an oldwashtub, she's so fat--who'd be respectful to a washtub? There goesToctor Ducker, Tettie Bucker. Huh! I'd hate to be a parson'sdaughter--they're always as poor as church mice. What did you say yourmother's first name is?"
"I didn't say and I'm not going to," returned Bettie.
"Well, anyhow, her bonnet went out of style four years ago. I shouldthink the parish'd take up a subscription and get her a new one."
"I wish, Laura," said exasperated Jean, another day, "that you wouldn'tmeddle with our things. This bedroom is mine and Bettie's, and the otherone is Mabel's and Marjory's. We wouldn't _think_ of looking into eachother's private treasure boxes. I've seen you open mine half a dozentimes this week. The things are all keepsakes and I'd rather not havethem handled."
"Huh! I guess I'll handle 'em if I want to. My mother can't keep me outof her bureau drawers, and I don't think you're so very much smarter."
A day or two later, the girls of Dandelion Cottage were invited to aparty in another portion of the town. The invitations were left at theirown cottage door and the delighted girls began at once to make plans forthe party.
"Let's carry our new handkerchiefs," suggested Jean, going to hertreasure box. "I believe I'll take mine home with me--I dreamed lastnight that the cottage was on fire and that mine got burned. Besides,I'll have to get dressed at home for the party and it would be handierto have it there."
"Guess I will, too," said Bettie.
"Great idea," said Marjory, taking her own box from its shelf. "I nevershould have thought of anything so bright. Let's all write to MissBlossom and tell her that we carried our--Why! mine isn't in my box!"
"Neither is mine," cried Mabel, who had turned quite pale at thediscovery. "It was there this morning. Girls, did any of you touch ourhandkerchiefs?"
"Of course we didn't," said Jean. "See, here's mine with 'J' on it, andthere are no others in my box."
"Of course not," echoed Laura.
"Mine's here, all right," said Bettie, who had been struggling with herbox, which opened hard. "Are you sure you left them in your boxes?"
"Certain sure," replied Mabel. "I saw it this morning."
"So did I see mine," asserted Marjory. "After I'd shown it to Aunty JaneI brought it back to put in my treasure box."
"Laura," asked Jean, "was Marjory's handkerchief in her box when youlooked in it this morning? I heard the cover make that funny littleclicking noise that it always makes, and just a minute afterward youcame out of her room."
"I--I don't know," stammered Laura. "I didn't see it--I never touchedher old box. If you say I did, I'll go right home and tell my mother youcalled me a thief. I'm going now, anyway."
The girls were in the dining-room just outside of the back bedroomdoor. As Laura was brushing past Jean, the opening of the new girl'sblouse caught in such a fashion on the corner of the sideboard that thegarment, which fastened in front, came unbuttoned from top to bottom.From its bulging front dropped Bettie's bead chain, various articles ofdoll's clothing, and the two missing handkerchiefs.
"They're mine!" cried Laura, making a dive for the things.
"They're not any such thing!" cried indignant Jean. "I made that doll'sdress myself, and I know the lace on those handkerchiefs."
"They're my mother's," protested Laura. "I took 'em out of her drawer."
"They're not," contradicted Mabel, prying Laura's fingers apart andforcing her to drop one of the crumpled handkerchiefs. "Look at thatmonogram--'M B' for Mabel Bennett."
"It's no such thing," lied Laura, stoutly. "It stands for BerthaMilligan and that's my mother's name."
"Give me that other handkerchief this instant," demanded Jean, givingLaura a slight shake. "If you don't, we'll take it away from you."
"Take the old rag," said Laura. "My mother gives away betterhandkerchiefs than these to beggars. I just took 'em anyway to scareVarjory Male and Babel Mennett, the silly babies."
After this enlightening experience, the girls never for a moment lefttheir unwelcome visitor alone in any of the rooms of Dandelion Cottage.They stood her for almost a week longer, principally because thereseemed to be no way of getting rid of her. Mabel, indeed, had severallively quarrels with her during that time, because quick-tempered Mabel,always strictly truthful herself, could not tolerate deceit in anyoneelse, and she had, of course, lost all faith in Laura.
The end came suddenly one Friday afternoon. Miss Blossom had sent to thegirls, by mail, a photograph of her own charming self, and nothing thatthe cottage contained was more precious. After one of the usual tiffswith Mabel, high-handed Laura spitefully scratched a disfiguringmustache right across the beautiful face, ruining the priceless treasurebeyond repair.
Even Laura looked slightly dismayed at the result of her spiteful work.The others for a moment were too horror-stricken for words. Then Mabel,with blazing eyes, sprang to her feet and flung the cottage door wideopen.
"You go home, Laura Milligan!" she cried. "Don't you ever dare to comeinside this house again!"
"Yes, go," cried mild Bettie, for once thoroughly roused. "We've triedto be nice to you and there hasn't been a single day that you haven'tbeen rude and horrid. Go home this minute. We're done with you."
"I won't go until I'm good and ready," retorted Laura, tearing thedisfigured photograph in two and scornfully tossing the pieces into acorner. "Such a fuss about a skinny old maid's picture."
"You shan't stay one instant longer!" cried indignant Jean, steppingdeterminedly behind Laura, placing her hands on the girl's shoulders,and making a sudden run for the door. "There! You're out. Don't you everattempt to come in again."
Bettie, grasping the situation and the Milligan baby at the same time,promptly set the boy outside. She had handled him with the utmostgentleness, but he always roared if anyone touched him, and he roarednow.
"Yah!" yelled Laura, "I'll tell my mother you pinched him--slapped him,too."
"Sapped him, too," wailed the baby.
"Well," said Jean, turning the key in the lock, "we'll have to keep thedoor locked after this. Mercy! I never behaved so dreadfully to anybodybefore and I hope I'll never have to again."