CHAPTER 21
The Dinner
The girls, a little uneasy lest their alarmingly interested parentsshould insist on cooking and serving the entire dinner, were bothrelieved and perplexed to find that the grown-ups, while perfectlywilling to help with the dinner provided they could work in their ownkitchens, flatly declined the most urgent invitations to enter thecottage on the afternoon or evening of the party.
It was incomprehensible. Until noon of the very day of the feast theparents and Aunty Jane had paid the girls an almost embarrassing numberof visits. Now, when the girls really wanted them and actually gave eachof them a very special invitation, each one unexpectedly held aloof.For, as the hour approached, the girls momentarily became more and moreconvinced that something would surely go wrong in the cottage kitchenwith no experienced person to keep things moving. They decided, at fouro'clock, to ask Mrs. Mapes to oversee things.
"No, indeed," said Mrs. Mapes. "You may have anything there is in myhouse, but you can't have _me_. You don't need _anybody_; you won't havea mite of trouble."
Finding Mrs. Mapes unpersuadable, they went to Mrs. Tucker, who, next toJean's mother, was usually the most obliging of parents.
"No," said Mrs. Tucker, "I couldn't think of it. No, no, no, not for onemoment. It's much better for you to do it all by yourselves."
Still hopeful, the girls ran to Mrs. Bennett.
"Mercy, no!" exclaimed that good woman, with discouraging emphasis. "I'mnot a bit of use in a strange kitchen, and there are reasons--Oh! I meanit's your party and it won't be any fun if somebody else runs it."
"Shall we ask your Aunty Jane?" asked Bettie. "We don't seem to behaving any luck."
"Yes," replied Marjory. "She loves to manage things."
But Marjory's Aunty Jane proved no more willing than the rest.
"No, _ma'am_!" she said, emphatically. "I wouldn't do it for tendollars. Why, it would just spoil everything to have a grown personaround. Don't even _think_ of such a thing."
So the girls, feeling just a little indignant at their disobligingrelatives, decided to get along as well as they could without them.
At last, everything was either cooked or cooking. The table wasbeautifully set and decorated and flowers bloomed everywhere inDandelion Cottage. Jean and Bettie, in the freshest of gingham aprons,were taking turns watching the things simmering on the stove. Mabel,looking fatter than ever in her short, white, stiffly starched apron,was on the doorstep craning her neck to see if the guests showed anysigns of coming, and Marjory was busily putting a few entirelyunnecessary finishing touches to the table.
The guests were invited for half-past six, but had been hospitably urgedby Bettie to appear sooner if they wished. At exactly fifteen minutesafter six, Mrs. Crane, in her old-fashioned, threadbare, best blacksilk and a very-much-mended real-lace collar, and with her iron-grayhair far more elaborately arranged than she usually wore it, crossed thestreet, lifting her skirts high and stepping gingerly to avoid the dust.She supposed that she was to be the only guest, for the girls had notmentioned any other.
Mabel, prodigiously formal and most unusually solemn, met her at thedoor, ushered her into the blue room, and invited her to remove herwraps. The light shawl that Mrs. Crane had worn over her head was theonly wrap she had, but it was not so easily removed as it might havebeen. It caught on one of her hair pins, which necessitated rearrangingseveral locks of hair that had slipped from place. This took some timeand, while she was thus occupied, Mr. Black turned the corner, wentswiftly toward the cottage, mounted the steps, and rang the doorbell.
Mabel received him with even greater solemnity than she had Mrs. Crane.
"I think I'd better take your hat," said she. "We haven't any hat rack,but it'll be perfectly safe on the pink-room bed because we haven't anyTucker babies taking naps on it today."
Mr. Black handed his hat to her with an elaborate politeness thatequaled her own.
"Marjory!" she whispered as she went through the dining-room. "He'swearing his dress suit!"
"Sh! he'll hear you," warned Marjory.
"Well, anyway, I'm frightened half to death. Oh, _would_ you mindpassing all the wettest things? I hadn't thought about his clothes."
"Yes, I guess I'd better; he might want to wear 'em again."
"They're both here," announced Mabel, opening the kitchen door.
"You help Bettie stir the soup and the mashed potatoes," said Jean,whisking off her apron and tying it about Mabel's neck. "I'll go in andshake hands with them and then come back and dish up."
Jean found both guests looking decidedly ill at ease. Mr. Black stood bythe parlor table absent-mindedly undressing a family of paper dolls.Mrs. Crane, pale and nervously clutching the curtain, seemed unable tomove from the bedroom doorway.
"Oh!" said Jean, "I do believe Mabel forgot all about introducing you.We told her to be sure to remember, but she hasn't been able to take hermind off of her apron since she put it on. Mrs. Crane, this is our--ourpreserver, Mr. Black."
The guests bowed stiffly.
Jean began to wish that she could think of some way to break the ice.Both were jolly enough on ordinary occasions, but apparently both hadsuddenly been stricken dumb. Perhaps dinner parties always affectedgrown persons that way, or perhaps the starch from Mabel's apron hadproved contagious; Jean smiled at the thought. Then she made anothereffort to promote sociability.
"Mrs. Crane," explained Jean, turning to Mr. Black, who was nervouslytearing the legs off of the father of the paper-doll family, "is ourvery nicest neighbor. We like her just ever so much--everybody does.We've often told _you_, Mrs. Crane, how fond we are of Mr. Black. It wasbecause you are our two very dearest friends that we invited you both--"
"Je-e-e-e-an!" called a distressed voice from the kitchen.
"Mercy!" exclaimed Jean, making a hurried exit, "I hope that soup isn'tscorched!"
"No," said Bettie, slightly aggrieved, "but _I_ wanted a chance, too, tosay how-do-you-do to those people before I get all mixed up with thecooking. I thought you were _never_ coming back."
"Well, it's your turn now," said Jean. "Give me that spoon."
Bettie, finding their guests seated in opposite corners of the room andapparently deeply interested in the cottage literature--Mr. Black buriedin _Dottie Dimple_ and Mrs. Crane absorbed in _Mother Goose_--naturallyconcluded that they were waiting to be introduced, and accordingly madethe presentation.
"Mrs. Crane," said she, "I want you to meet Mr. Black, and I hope,"added warm-hearted Bettie, "that you'll like each other very muchbecause we're so fond of you both. You're each a surprise party for theother--we thought you'd both like it better if you had somebody besideschildren to talk to."
"Very kind, I'm sure," mumbled Mr. Black, whose company manners, itseemed to Bettie, were far from being as pleasant as his everyday ones.Bettie gave a deep sigh and made one more effort to set theconversational ball rolling.
"I'm afraid I'll have to go back to the kitchen now, and leave you toentertain each other. Please both of you be _very_ entertaining--you'reboth so jolly when you just run in."
Bettie's eyes were wistful as she went toward the kitchen. Was itpossible, she wondered, that her beloved Mr. Black could despise Mrs.Crane because she was _poor_? It didn't seem possible, yet there wascertainly something wrong. Perhaps he was merely hungry. That was it, ofcourse; she would put the dinner on at once--even good-natured Dr.Tucker, she remembered, was sometimes a little bearlike when meals weredelayed.
Five minutes later, Marjory escorted the guests to the dining-room, and,finding both of these usually talkative persons alarmingly silent, sheinferred of course that Mabel had forgotten--as indeed Mabel had--herinstructions in regard to introducing them. Marjory's manners on formaloccasions were very pretty; they were pretty now, and so was she, as shehastened to make up for Mabel's oversight.
"Oh, Mr. Black," she cried, earnestly, "I'm afraid no one remembered tointroduce you. It's our first dinner party, you know, and we're not verywise.
This is our dearest neighbor, Mrs. Crane, Mr. Black."
The guests bowed stiffly for the third time. Practice should have lentgrace to the salutation, but seemingly it had not.
"Aren't some of you young people going to sit down with me?" demandedMr. Black, noticing suddenly that the table was set for only two.
"Yes," said Mrs. Crane with evident dismay, "surely you're coming to thetable, too."
"We can't," explained Marjory. "It takes all of us to do the serving.Besides, we haven't but two dining-room chairs. Sit here, please, Mrs.Crane; and this is your place, Mr. Black."
Mr. Black looked red and uncomfortable as he unfolded his napkin. Mrs.Crane looked, as Marjory said afterward, for all the world as if shewere going to cry. Perhaps the prospect of a good dinner after a longsiege of poor ones was too much for her, for ordinarily Mrs. Crane was avery cheerful woman.
Although both guests declared that the soup was very good indeed,neither seemed to really enjoy it.
"They just kind of worried a little of it down," said the distressedMarjory, when she handed Mr. Black's plate, still three-quarters full,to Jean in the kitchen. "Do you suppose there's anything the matter withit?"
"There can't be," said Bettie. "I've tasted it and it's good."
"They're just saving room for the other things," comforted Mabel. "Iguess _I_ wouldn't fill myself up with soup if I could smell roastedchicken keeping warm in the oven."
Although Mabel had asked to be spared passing the spillable things, itseemed reasonably safe to trust her with the dish of escalloped salmon.She succeeded in passing it without disaster to either the dish or theguests' garments, and her apron was still immaculate.
"Why," exclaimed Mabel, suddenly noticing that the guests sat stiff andsilent, "the girls said I was to be sure to introduce you the moment youcame, and I never thought a thing about it. Do forgive me--I'm thestupidest girl. Mrs. Black--I mean Mr. Crane--no, _Mrs._ Crane--"
"We've been introduced," said Mr. Black, rather shortly. "Might I have aglass of water?"
A pained, surprised look crept into Mabel's eyes. A moment later shewent to the kitchen.
The instant the guests were left alone, Mrs. Crane did an odd thing. Sheleaned forward and spoke in a low, earnest tone to Mr. Black.
"Peter," she said, "can't we pretend to be sociable for a little while?It isn't comfortable, of course, but it isn't right to spoil thosechildren's pleasure by acting like a pair of wooden dolls. Let's talk toeach other whenever they're in the room just as if we had just met forthe first time."
"You're right, Sarah," said Mr. Black. "Let's talk about the weather.It's a safe topic and there's always plenty of it."
When Marjory opened the door to carry in the salad there was a pleasanthum of voices in the dining-room. It seemed to all the girls that theguests were really enjoying themselves, for Mr. Black was telling Mrs.Crane how much warmer it was in Washington, and Mrs. Crane was informingMr. Black that, except for the one shower that fell so opportunely onthe Milligans, it had been a remarkably dry summer. The four anxioushostesses, feeling suddenly cheered, fell joyously to eating the soupand the salmon that remained on the stove. Until that moment, they hadbeen too uneasy to realize that they were hungry; but as Marjory carriedin the crackers, half-famished Mabel breathed a fervent hope that theguests wouldn't help themselves too lavishly to the salad.
To the astonishment of Mabel, who carried the chicken successfully toits place before Mr. Black, who was to carve it, Mr. Black did not askthe other guest what part she liked best, but, with a whimsical smile,quietly cut off both wings and put them on Mrs. Crane's plate.
Mrs. Crane looked up with an odd, tremulous expression--sort of weepy,Mabel called it afterwards--and said: "Thank you, Peter."
It seemed to Mabel at the time that the guests were getting acquaintedwith a rapidity that was little short of remarkable--"Peter" indeed.
Then, when everything else was eaten, and Marjory had brought the nutsand served them, Mrs. Crane, hardly waiting for the door to close behindthe little waitress, leaned forward suddenly and said:
"Peter, do you remember how you pounded my thumb when I held that hardblack walnut for you to crack?"
"I remember everything, Sarah. I've always been sorry about thatthumb--and I've been sorry about a good many other things since. Do youthink--do you think you could forgive me?"
"Well, I just guess I could," returned Mrs. Crane, heartily. "After all,it was just as much my fault as it was yours--maybe more."
"No, I never thought that, Sarah. _I_ was the one to blame."
When the door opened a moment later to admit the finger-bowls and allfour of the girls, who had licked the ice-cream platter and had nothingmore to do in the kitchen since everything had been served--there, tothe housekeepers' unbounded amazement, were Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane,with their arms stretched across the little table, holding each other'smiddle-aged hands in a tight clasp, and both had tears in their eyes.
The girls looked at them in consternation.
"Was--was it the dinner?" ventured Mabel, at last. "Was it as bad as--asall that?"
"Well," said Mr. Black, rising to go around the table to place anaffectionate arm across Mrs. Crane's plump shoulders, "it _was_ thedinner, but not its badness--or even its very goodness."
"I guess you'd better tell 'em all about it, Peter," suggested Mrs.Crane, whose eyes were shining happily. "It's only fair they should knowabout it--bless their little hearts."
"Well, you see," said Mr. Black, who, as the girls had quicklydiscovered, was once more their own delightfully jolly friend, "onceupon a time, a long time ago, there was a black-eyed girl named Sarah,and a two-years-younger boy, who looked a good deal like her, namedPeter, and they were brother and sister. They were all the brothers andsisters that each had, for their parents died when this boy and girlwere very young. Peter and Sarah used to dream a beautiful dream ofliving together always, and of going down hand-in-hand to a peaceful,plentiful old age. You see, they had no other relative but one verycross grandmother, who scolded them both even oftener than theydeserved--which was probably quite often enough. So I suspect that thoseabused, black-eyed, half-starved children loved each other more thanmost brothers and sisters do."
"Yes," agreed Mrs. Crane, nodding her head and smiling mistily, "theycertainly did. The poor young things had no one else to love."
"That," said Mr. Black, "was no doubt the reason why, when theheadstrong boy grew up and married a girl that his sister didn't like,and the equally headstrong girl grew up and married a man that herbrother _couldn't_ like--a regular scoundrel that--"
"Peter!" warned Mrs. Crane.
"Well," said Mr. Black, hastily, "it's all over now, and perhaps we_had_ better leave that part of it out. It isn't a pretty story, andwe'll never mention it again, Sarah. But anyway, girls, this foolishbrother and sister quarreled, and the brothers-in-law and sisters-in-lawand even the grandmother, who was old enough to know better, quarreled,until finally all four of those hot-tempered young persons were so angrythat the brother named Peter said he'd never speak to his sister again,and the sister named Sarah said she'd never speak to her brotheragain--and they haven't until this very day. Just a pair of young geese,weren't they, Sarah?"
"Old geese, too," agreed Mrs. Crane, "for they've both been fearfullylonely ever since and they've both been too proud to say so. One ofthem, at least, has wished a great many times that there had never beenany quarrel."
"_Two_ of 'em. But now this one," said Mr. Black, placing his forefingeragainst his own broad chest, "is going to ask this one--" and he pointedto Mrs. Crane--"to come and live with him in his own great big emptyhouse, so he'll have a sister again to sew on his buttons, listen to hisold stories, and make a home for him. What do you say, Sarah?"
"I say yes," said Mrs. Crane; "yes, with all my heart."
"And here," said Mr. Black, smiling into four pairs of sympathetic eyes,"are four young people who will have to pretend that they truly belongto us once in a whil
e, because we'd both like to have our house full ofhappy little girls. You never had any children, Sarah?"
"No, and you lost your only one, Peter."
"Yes, a little brown-eyed thing like Bettie here--she'd be a woman now,probably with children of her own."
"It's--it's just like a story," breathed Bettie, happily. "We've beenpart of a real story and never knew it! I'm so glad you let us haveDandelion Cottage, _so_ glad we invited you to dinner, and that nothinghappened to keep either of you away."
"Peter and I are glad, too," said Mrs. Crane, who indeed lookedwonderfully happy.
"Yes," said Mr. Black, "it's the most successful dinner party I've everattended. Of course I can't hope to equal it, but as soon as Sarah and Iget to keeping house properly and have decided which is to pour thecoffee, we're going to return the compliment with a dinner that willmake your eyes stick out, aren't we, Sarah?"
"Oh, we'll do a great deal more than that," responded generous Mrs.Crane. "We'll keep four extra places set at our table all the time."
"Of course we will," cried Mr. Black, heartily. "And we'll fill thebiggest case in the library with children's books--we'll all go tomorrowto pick out the first shelfful--so that when it gets too cold for you tostay in Dandelion Cottage you'll have something to take its place.You're going to be little sunny Dandelions in the Black-Crane housewhenever your own people can spare you. But what's the matter? Have youall lost your tongues? I didn't suppose you could be so astonishinglyquiet."
"Oh," sighed Bettie, joyfully, "you've taken _such_ a load off ourminds. We were simply dreading the winter, with no cottage to have goodtimes in."
"Yes," said Jean. "We didn't know how we could manage to _live_ with thecottage closed. We've been wondering what in the world we were going todo."
"But with school, and you dear people to visit every day on the wayhome," said Marjory, "we'll hardly have time to miss it. Oh! won't it beperfectly lovely?"
"I'm going to begin at once to practice being on time to meals," saidMabel. "I'm not going to let that extra place do any waiting for _me_."
These were the things that the four girls said aloud; but the joyouslook that flashed from Jean to Bettie, from Bettie to Marjory, fromMarjory to Mabel, and from Mabel back again to Jean, said even moreplainly: "_Now_ there'll be somebody to take care of Mrs. Crane. _Now_there'll be somebody to make a home for lonely Mr. Black."
And indeed, subsequent events proved that it was a beautiful arrangementfor everybody, besides being quite the most astonishing thing that hadhappened in the history of Lakeville.
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