CHAPTER VIII MRS. WIGGS AT HOME Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch | ||
8. CHAPTER VIII MRS. WIGGS AT HOME
a flower in a dark place, for the light."
ON Christmas day Lucy Olcott stood by the library window, and idly scratched initials on the frosty pane. A table full of beautiful gifts stood near, and a great bunch of long-stemmed roses on the piano filled the room with fragrance. But Lucy evidently found something more congenial in the dreary view outside. She was deep in thought when the door opened and Aunt Chloe came in with a basket and a note.
The old darky grinned as she put the
Lucy opened the note and read:
"From yours no more
"MRS. WIGGS."
"Bless her old heart!" cried Lucy; "that 's the biggest widow's mite I ever saw. Put the basket there with my other presents, Aunt Chloe; it 's worth them all."
She went over to the fire, and held her hands to the friendly blaze; there
"I wish it was night," she said. "I hate Christmas afternoon! Mother is asleep; it 's too early for callers. I believe I 'll go down to the Cabbage Patch."
Aunt Chloe stuck out her lip and rolled her eyes in deprecation.
"Don' you do it, honey. What you wanter be foolin' 'round wif dat po' white trash fer? Why don' you set heah by de fiah an' bleach yer han's fer de party to-might?"
"Bother the old party!" said Lucy, impatiently. She had begun disobeying Aunt Chloe when she was a very little girl.
Fifteen minutes later she was tramping through the snow, her cheeks glowing and her spirits rising. The Wiggses,
To-day, as she entered the Wiggses' gate a shout greeted her. Billy let himself down from the chicken-coop roof, and ran forward.
"Them Roman candles was n't no good!" he cried. "One of 'em busted too soon, and 'most blowed my hand off."
"Oh, no, it did n't, Miss Lucy!" said
"Lemme hold the muff!" cried Australia.
"No, me—me!" shrieked Europena.
A center rush ensued, during which the muff was threatened with immediate annihilation. The umpire interfered.
"Australia Wiggs, you go set in the corner with yer face to the wall. Europena, come here!" She lifted the wailing little girl to her lap, and looked her
The awful threat was sufficient. Mrs. Wiggs had long ago discovered the most effectual way of punishing Europena.
When peace was restored, Lucy looked about her. In each window was a piece of holly tied with a bit of red calico, and on the partly cleared table she saw the remains of a real Christmas dinner.
"We had a grand dinner to-day," said Mrs. Wiggs, following her glance. "Mr. Bob sent the turkey; we et all we wanted, an' got 'nough left fer the rest of the week, countin' hash an' soup an' all. Asia says she 's goin' to hide it, so as I can't give no more away. By the way, do you notice what Asia 's doin'?"
Lucy went to the window, where Asia was busily working. This taciturn little
"What are you making?" she asked, as the child dipped a brush into one of three cans which stood before her.
"She 's paintin' a picture," announced Mrs. Wiggs, proudly. "Looked like she was jes' crazy 'bout picture painting, an' I said, 'Well, Asia, if you have made up yer mind to be a artist, guess you 'll have to be one.' Seems like when folks kin do pianner playin' an' picture paintin' it ain't right to let 'em wash dishes an' clean up all the time. So I went to a store an' ast fer some paint to make pictures with, and they wanted seventy cents fer a little box full. Ain't that a mighty heap, Miss Lucy, jes' fer plain paint, 'fore it 's made up into flowers an' trees an' things? Well, anyway, I could n't git
It was not necessary, for in every direction Lucy looked her eyes were greeted with specimens of Asia's handiwork. Across the foot-board of the bed was a spray of what might have passed for cauliflower, the tin boiler was encircled by a wreath of impressionistic roses, and on the window-pane a piece of exceedingly golden goldenrod bent in an obliging curve in order to cover the crack in the glass.
"It 's perfectly wonderful!" said Lucy, with entire truthfulness.
"Ain't it?" said Mrs. Wiggs, with the awed tone one uses in the presence
Lucy made a heroic effort to keep a solemn face, as she asked if Asia looked like him.
"Oh, my, no!" continued Mrs. Wiggs. "He was a blunette, real dark complected. I remember when he fus' come a-courtin' me folks thought he was a Dago. Pa was n't to say well off in those days." Mrs. Wiggs never applied superlatives to misfortunes. "He had a good many of us to take keer of, an' after Mr. Wiggs had been keepin' company with me fer 'bout two weeks he drove up one night with a load of
Ordinarily Lucy found endless diversion in listening to the family reminiscences, but to-day another subject was on her mind.
"How is Billy getting along?" she asked.
"Jes' fine!" said Mrs. Wiggs; "only he comes home at night 'most dead. I give him money to ride, but ever' day last week he et up his nickel."
"Who—who has charge of him now?" Lucy blushed at her subterfuge.
"Mr. Bob," said Mrs. Wiggs; "he 's the gentleman that took us to supper. He 's got money. Asia said he give the nigger waiter a quarter. Billy is jes' crazy 'bout Mr. Bob; says he 's goin' to be jes' like him when he grows up. He will, too, if he sets his head to it! Only he never kin have them big brown eyes an' white teeth Mr. Bob 's got. Why, when Mr. Bob smiles it jes' sort of breaks up his whole face."
Lucy's eyes were fixed on the mammoth butterfly upon whose iridescent wings Asia was putting the finishing touches, but her thoughts were far away.
"I jes' wish you could see him!" went on Mrs. Wiggs, enthusiastically.
"I wish I could!" said Lucy, with such fervor that Mrs. Wiggs paused on her way to answer a knock at the outside door.
There was a scraping of feet in the passage.
"I have been driving all over the country looking for you," said a man's voice. "I have some Christmas traps for the kids."
Lucy rose hastily, and turned just as Redding entered.
"Mr. Bob, this is Miss Lucy," announced Mrs. Wiggs, triumphantly; "she was jes' 'lowin' she 'd like to see you."
If a blue-eyed angel straight from the peaks of paradise had been presented to him, Redding could not have been more astounded nor more enraptured.
But to Lucy it was a moment of intense chagrin and embarrassment. During the long silence of the past year she had persuaded herself that Redding no longer cared for her. To be thrust upon him in this way was intolerable. All
"Do you know where my muff is, Mrs. Wiggs?" she asked, after a formal greeting.
"Oh! you ain't a-goin'?" asked the hostess, anxiously. "I wanted you all to git acquainted."
"Yes, I must go," said Lucy, hurriedly, "if you will find my muff."
She stood nervously pulling on her gloves, while Mrs. Wiggs searched for the lost property. There was a deafening tumult in her heart, and though she bit her lips to keep from laughing, the tears stood in her eyes.
"Austry 's under the bed," announced Europena, who had joined in the quest.
"I ain't!" came in shrill, indignant tones, as Mrs. Wiggs dragged forth the culprit, and restored the muff.
"May I drive you over to the avenue?
"Oh, no! No, thank you," gasped Lucy, hardly knowing what she said. Her one idea was to get away before she broke down completely.
Redding held the door open as she passed out. His face was cold, calm, inscrutable; not a quiver of the mouth, not a flutter of the lids, but the light went out of his eyes and hope died in his heart.
Mrs. Wiggs stood watching the scene in perplexity.
"I dunno what ailed Miss Lucy," she said, apologetically; "hope it was n't the toothache."
CHAPTER VIII MRS. WIGGS AT HOME Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch | ||