CHAPTER X
MAKING VALENTINES
"Now, what do you think of a girl like that?" Marjorie exclaimed, as shefinished a description of Delight's behavior on the straw-ride.
"I think she's a little lady," said Mr. Maynard, with a twinkle ofamusement in his eye, "and she was pretty well frightened by the noisyfun of the Rockwell young people."
"But, Father," said King, "we didn't do anything wrong, or even rude, butof course, you can't go on a straw-ride and sit as still as if you werein church, can you?"
"No," said Mrs. Maynard, taking up King's cause; "children are meant tobe noisy, especially on a sleighing party. But I wouldn't worry about thelittle Spencer girl. If she continues to live here, she can't help doingas you young Romans do, after a time."
"Ho!" cried King. "Imagine Flossy Flouncy tumbling around like ourMidget. Hi, there, sister, you're it!"
King clapped Marjorie on the back and then ran around the dining-table,from which they had all just risen.
"Kit's it!" cried Marjorie, clapping Kitty in turn.
"Nope, I had my fingers crossed," said Kitty, exhibiting her twisteddigits, and calmly walking out of the room, her arm through her father's.
"All right, I'll catch you, King," and Marjorie made a dive for him.
He was wary, and just as she nearly touched him, he stooped and slidunder the table. After him went Midget, and of course, scrambled underjust as King dodged up on the other side.
Out came Marjorie, flying after King, who raced up the front stairs anddown the back ones, landing in the kitchen with a wild shriek of, "Hideme, Ellen, she's after me!"
"Arrah, ye bletherin' childher!" cried Ellen, "ye're enough to set asaint crhazy wid yer rally poosin'! In there wid ye, now!"
The good-natured Irishwoman pushed King in a small cupboard, and stoodwith her back against the door.
"What'll ye have, Miss Marjorie?" she said, as Midget rushed in half aminute later.
"Where's King?" asked Marjorie, breathless and panting.
"Masther King, is it? I expict he's sthudyin' his schoolbooks like thelittle gintleman he is. Shkip out, now, Miss Marjorie, dear, I must bedoin' me work."
"All right, Ellen, go on and do it. Go on now, why don't you? Why don'tyou, Ellen? Do you have to stand against that door to keep it shut?"
"Yes, Miss, the,--the lock is broke, sure."
"Oh, is it? Well, you go on to your work, and I'll hold the door shut fora while."
"Och, I cuddent think of throublin' ye, Miss. Run on, now, happen yermother is wantin' ye."
"Happen she isn't. Scoot, Ellen, and give me a chance at that door."
Unable to resist Midget's wheedling glance, the big Irishwoman moved awayfrom the door, and Marjorie threw it open, and disclosed King, calmlysitting on a flour barrel.
As he was fairly caught, the game was over, and the two, with intertwinedarms rejoined the family.
"Good race?" said Mr. Maynard, looking at the exhausted runners.
"Fine!" said Marjorie. "You see, Father, Delight has no brothers orsisters, so how could she be very racketty? She couldn't play tag withher mother or father, could she?"
"I think you'd play tag with the Pope of Rome, if you couldn't get anyone else."
"That would be rather fun," said Midget, laughing, "only I s'pose hisrobes and things would trip him up. But I do believe he'd like it. Idon't 'spect he has much fun, anyway. Does he?"
"Not of that sort, probably. But, Midget mine, there are other sorts offun beside tearing up and down stairs like a wild Indian."
"Yes, and one sort is playing 'Authors'; come on, and have a game, willyou, Father?"
"I'll give you half an hour," said Mr. Maynard, looking at his watch."That's all I can spare for my wild Indians this evening."
"Goody!" cried Midget, "half an hour is quite a lot. Come on, King andKit. Will you play, Mother?"
"Not now, I have some things I must attend to. I'll take Father's placewhen his half-hour is up."
So they settled down to "Authors," which was one of their favorite games,and of which they never tired. "Delight would like this," said Marjorie,as she took a trick; "she's fond of quiet games. Mother, may I go overto-morrow afternoon and make valentines with her?"
"Yes, if you like, dearie," replied Mrs. Maynard.
"May I go, too?" said Kitty.
"No, Kitty, I want you at home to-morrow. The seamstress will be cuttingyour new frock, and you must be here to try it on when she wants you."
"All right, Mother. May I ask Dorothy here, then?"
"Yes, if you like. But you must stay in the house."
"Yes'm, we will."
The Maynards were obedient children, and though sometimes disappointed,never demurred at their parents' decrees. They had long ago learned thatsuch demurring would do no good, and that to obey pleasantly made thingspleasanter all round.
After luncheon the next day, Marjorie got ready to go to spend theafternoon with Delight.
She wore her new plaid dress trimmed with black velvet and gilt buttons,and as red was the prevailing color in the plaid, her dark curls weretied up with a big red bow.
Very pretty she looked as she came for her mother's inspection.
"Am I all right, Mother?"
"Yes, Midget mine; you look as spick and span as a nice little Queen ofSheba. Now don't slide down the banisters, or do anything hoydenish. Tryto behave more as Delight does."
"Oh, I'm bound to be good over there. And making valentines is nice,quiet work. May I stay till six, Mother?"
"No, come home at half-past five. That's late enough for little Queens ofSheba to stay away from their mothers."
"All right, I'll skip at five-thirty. Good-bye, Mothery dearie."
With a kiss and a squeeze Marjorie was off, and Mrs. Maynard watched herfrom the window, until she disappeared through the Spencers' doorway.
"I'm so glad to see you!" said Delight, as Marjorie came dancing into herroom. "Everything's all ready. You sit over there."
So Midget sat down opposite her friend at a long, low table, on whichwere all the valentine materials laid out in readiness.
"What beautiful things," cried Midget; "but I don't know how to makevalentines."
"I'll show you. It's awfully easy, and lots of fun."
It was easy for Delight. Her deft little fingers pinched up bits oftissue paper into charming little rosebuds or forget-me-nots, and herdainty taste chose lovely color combinations.
Marjorie's quick wits soon caught the idea, and though not quite sonimble-fingered as Delight, she soon showed an inventive originality thatdevised novel ideas.
Sometimes they only took the round or square lace papers, and mountedthem on cards, and added little scrap pictures of doves or cupids orflowers.
Then some of them were quite different. Delight cut a heart-shaped pieceof cardboard, and round the edge dabbled an irregular border of goldpaint. The inside she tinted pink all over, and on it wrote a lovinglittle verse in gilt letters.
This, though simple, was such a pretty card, that Marjorie made one likeit, adding a garland of roses across it, which made it prettier still.
Then they made pretty ones of three panel cards. To do this they took anoblong card, and cut it half through with a penknife in such a way thatit divided the card into three parts, the outside two shutting over themiddle one like window blinds over a window.
The card would stand up like a screen, and they decorated each panel withposies and verses.
"What are you going to do with all these valentines?" asked Midget, asthey were busily working away at them.
"Half are yours," said Delight, "and half are mine. We can each send themwherever we please. Of course I'll send most of mine to friends in NewYork; I haven't any friends here."
"Indeed you have!" cried Midget. "Don't be silly. You've three Maynardfriends, to begin with; and all the boys and girls are your friends, onlyyou don't know them yet. I'll tell you what to do. You send valentines toall the Rock
well children,--I mean all our crowd, and they'll just love'em. Will you?"
"Why, yes, if you think I can when I don't know them very well. I caneasily make enough for them and my New York set too."
"Yes, do; I'll help you, if I get mine done first. And anyway, it's 'mosttwo weeks before Valentine's day."
"Oh, there's plenty of time. Look, isn't this a pretty one?"
Delight held up a card on which she had painted with her water colors aclouded blue sky effect. And on it, in a regular flight, she had pastedtiny birds that she found among the scrap pictures.
"Lovely!" said Midget; "you ought to have a verse about birds on it."
"I don't know any verse about birds, do you?"
"No; let's make one up."
"Yes, we could do that. It ought to go some-thing like this: 'Theswallows tell that Spring is here, so flies my heart to you, my dear.'"
"Yes, that's nice and valentiny,--but it isn't Spring in February."
"No, but that's poetic. Valentines have to be love-poems, and Spring is'most always in a love-poem."
"Yes, I s'pose it is. I'd like to do some funny ones. I'm not much goodat sentimental poetry. I guess I'll do one for King. Here's a picture ofa bird carrying a ring in its beak. Ring rhymes with King, you know."
"Oh, yes, make one of those limerick things: 'There was a young fellownamed King,--'"
"That's the kind I mean. Write that down while I paste. Then write: 'Whosent to his lady a ring.' Now what next?"
"Something like this: 'He said, "Sweet Valentine, I pray you be mine."And she answered him, "No such a thing!"'"
"Oh, that's a good one. Do send that to your brother. But it hasn't muchsense to it."
"No, they never have. Now, I'll make one for Kit: 'There was a deargirlie named Kit, who was having a horrible fit.'"
"That isn't a bit valentiny."
"No, I know it. This is a funny one. We'll make her another pretty one.'When they said, "Are you better?" she wrote them a letter in which shereplied, "Not a bit!"'"
"I think that's sort of silly," said Delight, looking at the rhymes shehad written at Midget's dictation.
"Yes, I know it is," returned Marjorie, cheerfully. "It's nonsense, andthat's 'most always silly. But Kit loves it, and so do I. We make upawful silly rhymes sometimes. You don't know Kitty very well yet, do you?She's only ten, but she plays pretend games lovely. Better'n I do. Shehas such gorgeous language. I don't know where she gets it."
"It comes," said Delight, with a far-away look in her eyes. "I have ittoo. You can't remember that you've ever heard it anywhere; the wordsjust come of themselves."
"But you must have heard them, or read them," said practical Midget.
"Yes, I suppose so. But it doesn't seem like memory. It's just as if youhad always known them. Sometimes I pretend all to myself. And I'm aprincess."
"I knew you would be! Kit said so too. She likes to be a princess. But Ilike to be a queen. You might as well be, you know, when you're justpretending."
"Yes, you'd be a splendid queen. You're so big and strong. But I like tobe a princess, and 'most always I'm captive, in a tower, waiting forsomebody to rescue me."
"Come on, let's play it now," said Marjorie, jumping up. "I'm tired ofpasting things, and we can finish these some other day. You be a captiveprincess, and I'll be a brave knight coming to rescue you."
But just then Mrs. Spencer appeared, carrying a tray on which wereglasses of milk, crackers, and dear little cakes, and the two girlsconcluded they would postpone their princess play till a little later.
"I'm so bothered," said Mrs. Spencer, in her tired, plaintive voice, asshe sat down with the children; "I cannot get good servants to stay withme here. I had no trouble in the city at all. Does your mother have goodservants, Marjorie?"
"Yes, Mrs. Spencer, I think so. They're the ones we've always had."
"Well, mine wouldn't come with me from the city, so I had to get somehere. And the cook has a small child, and to-day he's ill,--really quiteill,--and the waitress is helping the cook, and so I had to bring up thistray myself."
"Can't I help you in some way, Mrs. Spencer?" asked Marjorie,impulsively. It was her nature to be helpful, though it would never haveoccurred to Delight to make such an offer.
"No, dear child; there's nothing you could do. But the doctor is downthere now, to see the little one, and I fear if the child is very ill,cook will have to leave, and what to do then, I don't know."
"Perhaps the child is only a little sick," said Midge, who wanted to becomforting, but did not know quite what to say to comfort a grown-uplady.
"We'll soon know, after the doctor makes his decision," said Mrs.Spencer. "Oh, that's Maggie crying. I'm afraid it's a bad case."
Sure enough, sounds of loud sobbing could be heard from the direction ofthe kitchen, and Mrs. Spencer hurried away to learn what had happened.
"It must be awful," said Marjorie, "to be a cook and have your little boyill, and no time to attend to him, because you have to cook for otherpeople."
Delight stared at her.
"I think the awful part," she said, "is to have your cook's baby get ill,so she can't cook your dinner."
"Delight, that is selfish, and I don't think you ought to talk so."
"I don't think it's selfish to want the services of your own servants.That's what you have them for,--to cook and work for you. They oughtn'tto let their little boys get sick."
"I don't suppose they do it on purpose," said Midge, half laughing andhalf serious; "but I'm sorry for your cook anyway."
"_I'm_ sorry for _us_! But, gracious, Marjorie, hear her cry! The littleboy must be awfully sick!"
"Yes, indeed! She's just screaming! Shall we go down?"
"No, I'm sure mother wouldn't like us to. But I don't feel like playingprincess, do you?"
"No, not while she screams like that. There goes the doctor away."
From the window, the girls saw the doctor hasten down the path, jump intohis electric runabout, and whiz rapidly away.
They could still hear sobbing from the kitchen, and now and then themoans of the baby.
At last, Mary, the waitress, came to take the tray away.
"What is the matter with Maggie's little boy, Mary?" asked Delight.
"He's sick, Miss Delight."
"But why does Maggie scream so?"
"It's near crazy she is, fearin' he'll die."
"Oh," said Marjorie, "is he as bad as that! What's the matter with him,Mary?"
"He,--he has a cold, Miss."
"But babies don't die of a cold! Is that all that ails him?"
"He has,--he has a fever, Miss."
"A high fever, I s'pose. Rosy Posy had that when she had croup. Is itcroup, Mary?"
"No, Miss,--I don't know, Miss, oh, don't be askin' me!"
With a flurried gesture, Mary took the tray and left the room.
"It's very queer," said Delight, "they're making an awful fuss over asick baby. Here's the doctor back again, and another man with him."
The two men came in quickly, and Mrs. Spencer met them at the front door.They held a rapid consultation, and then the doctor went to the telephoneand called up several different people to whom he talked one afteranother.
And then Mrs. Spencer went to the telephone.
"Oh," said Delight, looking at Marjorie with startled eyes, "she'scalling up father in New York. It must be something awful!"