Chapter 8 ToC No.8

THE M.KS.

Bess stood at the window, her brows drawn together in a decided frown. Not that the sunshine was dazzling; quite the contrary. It was what Aunt Sukey called a drizzle-drazzle day. The air was full of a penetrating mist that put outdoor amusements out of the question. Stormy Saturdays were particularly trying, and to-day the rain interfered with an expedition to which the children had been looking forward for a week.

"I wish I were a fairy," said Louise, who sat on the floor building a block house for Carie; "I wouldn't have any rainy days."

"A mighty nice world 't would be, I reckon, if you had the fixin' of it," Sukey remarked sarcastically.

"Oh, well, perhaps I'd have some rain, but only at night."

"Don't you s'pose the good Lord knows what kind of weather is best for us a heap better than a no-account fairy?" Sukey continued, seeing an opportunity for some moral teaching.

"Of course he does, but I shouldn't think one Saturday would make much difference."

"That ain't for us to say. Folks can't have all they wants in this world, and they has to be taught it."

"Louise, I see Miss Brown at her window; don't you think it would be nice to go to see her?" said Bess. "We could wear our waterproofs."

"Yes, indeed; may we, mammy?" asked Louise, jumping up. Though Sukey professed to be a stern disciplinarian she rarely denied the children anything, so after a careful survey of the weather she thought they might go if they would wear their overshoes. Miss Brown saw them as they came out of the door and raised a big umbrella. "Where can they be going?" she wondered as they disappeared from her view. A few minutes later, however, they came in sight again, this time on her side of the street, and stopped at her gate.

"You are a pair of rainy-day fairies!" she exclaimed as they entered. They both laughed at this, and Bess explained that it was just what Louise had been wishing to be.

"Then we each have our wish, for I have been longing for some good fairy to cheer me this gloomy day."

Miss Brown's sitting-room was a pleasant place even on the darkest day. A bright fire burned in the grate behind the high brass fender, some yellow chrysanthemums bloomed in the west window, the mahogany chairs and tables shone with the polish time gives to such things, and behind the glass doors of the corner cupboard stood rows of pretty old china. From above the mantel, old Mrs. Brown-at the age of eighteen, with stiff little curls over each ear and immense leg o' mutton sleeves in her low-necked pink gown-looked down, smiling impartially upon everybody.

"Don't you think rainy days are tiresome?" asked Louise, seating herself in the window beside the flowers.

"Not when I have company," was the smiling reply.

"Aunt Zélie has been staying with Cousin Helen this week, and Carl went home with Aleck yesterday, and we were going out to spend the day to-day and come home with them. But of course we couldn't on account of the rain, and there is nobody at home but Carie and Sukey, for Helen is at Aunt Marcia's." The tone in which Bess spoke was so doleful it was almost tragic.

"Uncle William says there is always a bright spot somewhere, and perhaps there is for us, but we haven't found it," added Louise; then looking across the street she gave a little laugh. "I was just thinking of the Magic Door," she explained.

Miss Brown wanted to hear about it, so Bess told the story, growing quite cheerful as she proceeded.

Miss Brown was more pleased with it, if possible, than Dora had been. She said it explained why she was so contented and happy in her new home.

"My old aunt left me this house with all its contents on condition that I would occupy it. At first it seemed out of the question, but the more I thought of a home of my own the more I wanted to try it, and now I feel settled for life! You see," she went on, "how beautifully it came about this afternoon. Here I was feeling stupid and a little lonely; I looked at the Big Front Door, and presently it opened and you came out and straight over here, to make me cheerful again."

The children beamed on her with faces that said plainly: "Here is an appreciative person."

At this moment who should appear but Mary, with a plate of warm spicy cookies! The climax of sociability was reached!

"Miss Brown, is it hard to knit?-to learn, I mean," Louise asked presently, looking admiringly at the bright wools the lady was working with.

"Not at all; I learned when I was a little girl."

"I should like to know how, it is such pretty soft work," said Bess.

"I shall be very glad to teach you. We might have a knitting class for rainy afternoons."

"And after awhile perhaps we could make an afghan for Uncle William!" cried Louise delightedly. "Wouldn't that be fun, Bess?"

"If it would not be a trouble to Miss Brown."

"It would be a great pleasure to me," she answered, smiling at the bright faces.

"It would be nice-" Bess began.

"Well, dear, what?" as she hesitated.

"I don't know whether I ought to ask you, for it might be a bother to you, but I was thinking how nice it would be to have a club, and ask Dora and Elsie."

"Bess, that is a lovely plan!" exclaimed her sister.

Miss Brown thought so too, and said if the others would like it she should be glad to have them, and she suggested that they bring their friends to talk the matter over on the next Saturday afternoon.

In discussing the club Bess and Louise forgot their disappointment, and were astonished to find how late it was when Joanna came for them.

"There was a bright spot, after all," said Louise as they were putting on their waterproofs. "If we had gone to the country we might never have thought of the club."

Some days later the postman had three most important notes to deliver to Miss Dora Warner, Miss Elsie Morris, and Miss Constance Myer.

This is the way they read:

You are requested to be present at the Brown house next Saturday afternoon, to organize a knitting club. Please come early.

Truly yours,

Bess Hazeltine.

Louise Hazeltine.

Much time and thought were expended on these invitations, and the importance of the senders was only equalled by the curiosity and interest of the girls who received them.

Aunt Zélie insisted that five were as many as Miss Brown ought to have. "For you know she is not used to such lively young ladies as you and Elsie and Do-"

"Not Dora, Auntie!" cried Bess; "she is perfect, and never makes a noise."

Mrs. Howard laughed, and went to see the lady of the Brown house, fearing she was undertaking too much for her strength.

But Miss Brown was quite sure of herself.

"If you knew how like spring sunshine they are in my sober life, you would see that it can only be a benefit to me," she said.

"Of course I think they are dear children, but I may be partial," their aunt replied, smiling.

"I discovered one secret of their attractiveness some time ago-they are fortunate children," and Miss Brown looked admiringly into the sweet face before her.

Promptly at three on Saturday afternoon the invited guests appeared. They were a little shy and silent at first after Bess introduced them to their hostess, but this wore off very quickly at the sight of five pairs of needles with the knitting already begun in bright worsteds.

Dora, who had learned to knit in Germany, was made assistant teacher, and for an hour they worked away diligently.

Then Miss Brown said they had done very well for beginners, and that it was time to stop and decide upon a name for their club.

The work was hardly put away when Nannie, the new maid, came in, bringing some of Mary's delicious cakes, and chocolate which was served in the oddest little cups brought by Miss Brown's grandfather from India when she was a child. Chocolate had never before tasted so good.

"Did you have tea parties with them when you were a little girl, and never break any of them?" Constance asked with wide-open eyes, for she had broken half a dozen tea-sets in her short lifetime.

"You did not think then that when you were grown up you would give some other children chocolate in these cups, did you?" said Dora.

"If we should keep our things I wonder if they would be as funny and interesting to us when we are grown up?" Bess fingered one of the cups admiringly as she spoke.

"I never feel as if I'd care for things when I am old," said Elsie.

"I can remember when I used to feel so too, but it is a great mistake. Now I enjoy things which I have had for a long time, more than I do new ones. When I use my tea-set I always think of the days when my cousin Margaret and I used to play together."

"Couldn't you tell us about it, Miss Brown?-about your cousin and when you were a little girl?" asked Louise.

"Please, if it is not too much trouble," added Bess.

They all looked so eager she could not refuse.

"There is really not much to tell," she said. "Thirty years ago little girls were not very different from those I see now, though we had not half so many toys and books.

"This cousin and I lived with our grandmother. Margaret was a year younger than I, and a delicate child, while I was strong and well then. My father and mother died when I was a baby, and my grandmother's house in Philadelphia is the first place I remember. Margaret did not come to live with us till she was six years old. Her mother too was dead, and her father spent most of his time abroad. She used to talk a great deal of her home in the South, for she did not like the city, but longed for the country and the warm climate she was used to. I remember the stories she told me after we were in bed at night. Sometimes they were in rhyme and always about her beautiful southern home.

"Our grandmother was good to us, but she was strict too, and every day for an hour we sat beside her learning to sew and knit. Instead of going to school we had a governess. We took our exercise in the open square opposite our house, where there were trees and grass, and, best of all, squirrels. This tea-set which my grandfather brought to me the year before Margaret came to live with us was my greatest treasure, and I thought it a great treat to be allowed to play with it. When I was ten years old Margaret and I had measles, and one day when we were nearly well grandmother left us to go to a funeral. Our house servant happened to be sick, so there was no one in the house, besides ourselves, but the cook. Telling us on no account to leave the warm room, grandmother drove off. Then Margaret began to wish that we had asked to have the tea-set. I knew where it was kept and volunteered to get it, for it was mine and I thought I had a right to it.

"Next we began to wish for something to eat. The spirit of naughtiness possessed me, I think, for I determined to go downstairs and find something. I stole down to the dining-room, where I found nothing but bread-which we did not want-and doughnuts. I carried back half a dozen of these, and we had our feast.

"Before we finished grandmother came home. When we heard the carriage we had a great time getting the crumbs out of the way, and the dishes put in their place. In my hurry I dropped a cup and cracked it.

"When grandmother came in she found everything as usual, but that night Margaret was very ill; she had a relapse and came near dying. No doubt the doughnuts had something to do with this, and perhaps the excitement also. I confessed how naughty I had been, and my grandmother was very kind, for she knew how I loved Margaret, and how I should miss her if she died. However, she recovered, but I had the broken cup to remind me of my disobedience. It is there among the others now."

"Thank you for telling us," said Dora as the cup was passed around.

"Is Margaret alive now?" Bess asked.

"Yes, indeed; she is married and living in England, and has three great boys and one little daughter. And now let us find a name for our club."

It was difficult to suit everybody, till after a good deal of discussion Dora made a suggestion.

"Suppose we have a name not like any we ever heard of, and call ourselves the Merry Knitters."

Nobody could find any objection to this, so it was accepted.

"For we want to be knitters and we mean to be merry," said Louise.

"And let's not tell the boys what M.K. stands for," proposed Elsie.

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