Dandelion Cottage
CHAPTER 16
Mabel Plans a Surprise
The girls were indignant later when they discovered Mabel's apparentdesertion. It was precisely like Mabel, they said, to shirk when therewas anything unpleasant to be done. For once, however, they werewronging Mabel--poor, self-sacrificing Mabel, who with fifty-five centsat her disposal was planning a beautiful surprise for her unappreciativecottage-mates. The girls might have known that nothing short of anambitious project for saving the cottage from the Milligans would havekept the child away when so much was going on. For Mabel was at thatvery moment doing what was for her the hardest kind of work; all alonein her own room at home she was laboriously composing a telegram.
She had never sent a telegram, nor had she even read one. She could notconsult her mother because Mrs. Bennett had inconsiderately gone downtown to do her marketing. Dr. Bennett, however, was a very busy man andsometimes received a number of important messages in one day. Mabel feltthat the occasion justified her studying several late specimens whichshe resurrected from the waste-paper basket under her father's desk.These, however, proved rather unsatisfactory models since none of themseemed to exactly fit the existing emergency. Most of them, indeed, werein cipher.
"I suppose," said Mabel, nibbling her penholder thoughtfully, "they make'em short so they'll fit these little sheets of yellow paper, butthere's lots more space they _might_ use if they didn't leave such widemargins. I'll write small so I can say all I want to, but, dear me, Ican't think of a thing to say."
It took a long time, but the message was finished at last. With a deepsigh of satisfaction, Mabel folded it neatly and put it into an envelopewhich she carefully sealed. Then, putting on her hat, and taking thetelegram with her, she ran to Bettie's home and opened the door--none ofthe four girls were required to ring each other's doorbells. There, sureenough, was the letter waiting to be mailed to Mr. Black. Mabel, who hadthought to bring a pencil, copied the address in her big, verticalhandwriting, and without further ado ran with it to her friend, thetelegraph operator, whose office was just around the corner. All thedistances in the little town were short, and Mabel had frequently beensent to the place with messages written by her father, so she did notfeel the need of asking permission.
The clerk opened the envelope--Mabel considered this decidedly rude ofhim--and proceeded to read the message. It took him a long time. Then helooked from Mabel's flushed cheeks and eager eyes to the littlecollection of nickels and dimes she had placed on the counter. Mabelwondered why the young man chewed the ends of his sandy mustache sovigorously. Perhaps he was amused at something; she looked about thelittle office to see what it could be that pleased him so greatly, butthere seemed to be nothing to excite mirth. She decided that he waseither a very cheerful young man naturally, or else he was feelingjoyful because the clock said that it was nearly time for luncheon.
"It'll be all right, Miss Mabel," said he at last. "It's a pretty goodfifty-five cents' worth; but I guess Mr. Black won't object to that. Ihope you'll always come to me when you have messages to send."
"I won't if you go and read them all," said Mabel, at which her friendlooked even more cheerful than he had before.
Ten minutes later Mabel, mumbling something about having had an errandto attend to, presented herself at the cottage. Beyond a few meeklyreceived reproaches from Marjory, no one said anything about theunexplained absence. Indeed, they were all too busy and too preoccupiedto care, the greater grief of losing the cottage having swallowed up alllesser concerns.
At a less trying time the girls would have discovered within ten minutesthat Mabel was suffering from a suppressed secret; but everything waschanged now. Although Mabel fairly bristled with importance and gave outsundry very broad hints, no one paid the slightest attention. Gradually,in the stress of packing, the matter of the telegram faded from Mabel'sshort memory, for preparing to move proved a most exciting operation,and also a harrowing one. Every few moments somebody would say: "Ourlast day," and then the other three would fall to weeping on anythingthat happened to come handy. Of course the packing had stirred upconsiderable dust; this, mingled with tears, added much to theforlornness of the cottagers' appearance when they went home at noonwith their news.
The parents and Aunty Jane said it was a shame, but all agreed thatthere was nothing to be done. All were sorry to have the girls deprivedof the cottage, for the mothers had certainly found it a relief to havetheir little daughters' leisure hours so safely and happily occupied.Mabel's mother was especially sorry.
Never was moving more melancholy nor house more forlorn when the moving,done after dark with great caution, and mostly through the dining-roomwindow on the side of the house farthest from the Milligans, was finallyaccomplished. The Tucker boys had been only too delighted to help. Bybedtime the cottage was empty of everything but the curtains on theMilligan side of the house. An hour later the tired girls were asleep;but under each pillow there was a handkerchief rolled in a tight, grimylittle ball and soaked with tears.
In the morning, the girls returned for a last look, and for theremaining curtains. Dandelion Cottage, stripped of its furniture andwithout its pictures, showed its age and all its infirmities. Greatpatches of plaster and wall paper were missing, for the gay posters hadcovered a multitude of defects. The indignant Tucker boys had disobeyedBettie and had removed not only the tin they had put on the leakingroof, but the steps they had built at the back door, the drain they hadfound it necessary to place under the kitchen sink, and the bricks withwhich they had propped the tottering chimneys.
Before the day was over, the tenants whom the Milligans had found fortheir own house were clamoring to move in, so the Milligans tookpossession of the cottage late that afternoon, getting the key from Mr.Downing, into whose keeping the girls had silently delivered it thatmorning. To do Mr. Downing justice, nothing had ever hurt him quite asmuch as did the dignified silence of the three pale girls who waited fora moment in the doorway, while equally pallid Jean went quietly forwardto lay the key on his desk. He realized suddenly that not one of themcould have spoken a word without bursting into tears; and for the restof that day he hated himself most heartily.