Sisters

  CHAPTER V. FRIENDS IN NEED

  Grandma Sue had been often to the side porch nearest the lane and hadgazed toward the highway wondering why her girl did not return. Thesupper had been ready for some time and the specially ordered chocolatepudding was done to perfection. At last the old woman hurried back intothe kitchen to exclaim: "Wall, I declare to it, if Jenny ain't fetchin'someone home to supper. I reckon its Mis' Dearborn, her teacher, as shesets sech a store by."

  But, as Dobbin approached at his best speed (for, was he not nearing hisown supper?) the old woman, peering from behind the white muslin curtainsat a kitchen window, uttered an ejaculation of surprise. "Silas Warner,"she turned wide-eyed toward the old man, who, in carpet slippers, hadmade himself comfortable in his tipped back arm chair to read the _RuralNews_.

  "Yeap, Susan?" his tone was one of indifferent inquiry. He presumed thathis spouse was merely going to affirm what she had already suspected.Well, even if that were true, all he would have to put on was the housecoat Jenny had made for him. It never would do to go to the table inshirt sleeves if teacher--he rose to carry out this indolently formeddecision when he saw his wife tip-toeing across the room toward him, herfinger on her lips. "Shh! Don't say nothin', Si!" she whispered. "Jenny'sleft the horse hitched and she's comin' right in and trailin' arter heris a gal totin' a hand satchel. Who do you cal'late it can be?"

  The old man hastily slipped on the plaid house coat and stood waiting,trying not to look too curious when their girl burst in with, "Oh,Granny, Granddad, this is my friend Etta Heldt. You know I told you aboutthe girl who pares vegetables up at the seminary and who always lookedso--so unhappy." Jenny did not want to say discontented as she had thatother time. "Well, I've found out what makes her unhappy and I've fetchedher over to supper. Etta, this is my Grandmother Sue and my GranddaddySi."

  The strange girl sent a half appealing, half frightened glance at each ofthe old people and then burst into tears.

  Jenny slipped a protecting arm about her new friend, as she said by wayof explanation: "Etta's all upset about something. I'll take her into myroom to rest a bit, and then I'll come back and tell you about it."

  Left alone, the elderly couple looked at each other in amazement.

  "I reckon that poor girl is like the stray kittens and forlorn dogs ourJenny fetches home so often," the old woman said softly. "I never sawsuch a hungerin' sort of look in human eyes afore."

  The old man dropped back into his armed chair and shook his head as muchas to say that their "gal's" ways were beyond his comprehension. A momentlater that same "gal" reappeared and, going at once to her grandfather,she knelt at his side and held his knotted work-hardened hand in aclinging clasp.

  "Tut! Tut! Jenny, you're all a-tremble." The old man always felt deeplymoved when the girl he loved seemed to be troubled. He placed his freehand on her curls.

  "I reckon you'd better start at the beginnin'. Me'n your grandma here ispowerful curious."

  The girl sprang up. "Granny dear," she pleaded, "you sit here in yourrocker and I'll be close between you on this stool. Now I'll tell you alland please, please, please say yes."

  The two old people looked lovingly into the eager, uplifted face of theirdarling and wondered what the request was to be. They never had deniedtheir "gal" anything she had asked for in the past, but they had alwaysbeen such simple desires and so easily fulfilled. However, there was anexpression in the girl's lovely face that made them both believe thatthis was to be no ordinary request.

  Jenny glanced from one to another of her grandparents anxiously, eagerly.Then, taking a hand of each, she fairly clung to them as her words rushedand tumbled out, sometimes incoherently, but the picture was clearlydepicted for all that. The two old people could see the forlorn littleBelgian girl coming alone to America to join the mother who had died andbeen buried only two days before the child reached San Francisco. Thenthe long dreary years in a crowded city orphanage where no one reallycared.

  Grandma Sue began to wipe her eyes with one corner of her apron at thatpart of the story. She was thinking that their own darling might havebeen brought up in just such a place had not Grandpa Si happened to seethe canopied wagon on that long ago day. The girl felt the soft wrinkledhand quivering in her clasp, and she looked up almost joyfully, for shebelieved she had an ally. Then she told of the time when Etta had reachedan age where she could no longer be kept in the institution and how workhad been procured for her paring vegetables at Granger Place Seminary.Food and a place to sleep were about all that orphan girls were given,and so, although she had tried and tried to save the little money sheearned, she could not, for she had to buy shoes and clothes.

  The old woman nodded understandingly. "What was she savin' for, dearie?Anything special?"

  "Oh, yes, Grandma Sue, something very special." Then Jenny told about thefeeble old grandparents far across the sea whose little farm had beenlaid waste by the war and how they longed for their granddaughter to be acomfort in their last days. At this point Grandpa Si took out his big redbandana handkerchief and blew his nose hard. He was thinking what itwould mean to them if their Jenny was far away and couldn't get back.Then, looking at their "gal" shrewdly, he asked, "Jenny, darlin', what beyo' aimin' at? Yo' ain't jest tellin' this story sort of random-like, beyo'?"

  The girl shook her head. "No! No!" Her tear-brimmed eyes implored firstone and then the other. Then she explained that it would take one hundreddollars to pay for Etta's transportation in the steerage.

  How the girl pleaded, her sensitive lips quivering. "Think of it, GrandmaSue, Granddad, only one hundred dollars to take that poor girl to her oldgrandparents who love her so. Won't you let me loan her that much fromthe money I've made selling eggs and honey? Please, please say that youwill. You've always told me that it is mine and oh, I do so want to helpEtta." Then, as her surprised listeners hesitated, she hurried on:"She'll pay it back, every cent, and only the other day, Granddad, yousaid you didn't think the farm was going to be sold, because nothing morehad been heard about it."

  The old man's eyes questioned his spouse. Still tearful, Grandma Suenodded. Then drawing the girl to her, she held her close as she said,"Silas, I reckon we owe it to the good Lord to help one of His poorlittle children."

  "O, Granny! O, Grandpa! However can I thank you?" The flushed, happy girlsprang up, kissed each of them and ran toward the bedroom to tell thewonderful news to the waiting Etta.