Happy House Part 22

After a few moments of excited consultation Peter Hyde announced in a loud tone that, for the entertainment of the guests, a fairy fantasy, "The Visit of the Moon-Queen," would be presented by Miss Nonie Hopworth.

"Well, I swun, with folks here from N'York, encouragin' that girl to act her nonsense," murmured Mrs. Sniggs to a neighbor.

But the man-from-New York's face brightened expectantly when Nancy waved her hand out over their heads as though to touch them all with a fairy wand. "Let my magic give you fairy eyes so that you may see that this is _not_ the garden of Happy House but a woodland, peopled by fairy creatures! If you will listen very hard, you will hear them stirring. It is the Flowers. They come to the Woodland to make it ready for the Moon-Queen who will visit them this night!"

Down through the trees danced Nonie, bare-footed, arms outflung, as though she was, indeed, joyously preparing for the triumphal coming of a Queen. In turn she characterized the Daisy, the Hollyhock, the b.u.t.tercup and the Rose--then became the good old Dandelion.

"Lily, you are _so_ lazy," the Dandelion sternly admonished her fair sister. "Don't you know the Queen likes tidy gardens when she comes here? And see the muss b.u.t.tercup has left around. Oh, dearie me, children will be children and I'll be so glad when b.u.t.tercup and Daffy-down-dilly grow up! Daisy, it isn't lady-like to complain that your dress is so plain! I am sure the Queen will think you look very well, if your petals are clean. It's what you _do_, anyway, and _not_ what you wear!"

Nancy saw Peter Hyde's laughing face drop suddenly between his arms.

With quaint, childish phrasing and with dancing steps Nonie interpreted her story to her audience. When each flower had done its part toward preparing the Garden for the coming of the Queen, Nonie, as the old Dandelion, admonished them to sit very still, "so as not to muss their dresses," and then disappeared only to appear again as the stately Queen. Like a peac.o.c.k, holding an imaginary train in one hand, Nonie strutted across the gra.s.s, now nodding graciously to right and left, now haughtily chiding imaginary moonbeams who accompanied her.

Then--the Queen supposedly in state upon her throne--Nonie was again the Dandelion, leading forward her sister flowers to pay court to their Queen.

Suddenly (from the direction of Aunt Milly's chair) came a slow, sorrowful voice that the Flowers (or at least Dandelion) lamented loudly as Trouble. The Flowers were sadly dismayed that Trouble should have intruded upon this festive gathering in honor of the Moon-Queen!

But the Moon-Queen implored them "not to worry a bit."

"I know all about Trouble and the harm she does! I see everything as I ride through the sky. But, never fear, we will find a way to get rid of her!" The Queen threw out her hand with an imperial gesture.

"Summon Youth!"

Nancy, as Youth, trying very hard not to giggle, answered the summons.

In her pink dress, a flush dying her tanned cheeks, her eyes alight with life, she was so much the embodiment of joyous, appealing youth that Peter Hyde, absorbedly watching, felt a catch at his heart.

Gravely the Moon-Queen touched Youth with her magic wand.

"Go out into the world and drive Trouble away! I will give you fairy presents to help you in your fight. This," holding out a flower, "is a magic flower. If you wear it all the time you'll remember that there's always flowers and birds and nice things to make people happy. And here's a fairy leaf. If you wave that in people's faces they'll all be kind and never be cross to little children or animals or old people.

And here is a fairy ring," placing a twisted dandelion stem in Youth's hand, "that'll make you love everybody and everybody love you. And here is a magic coat," putting Aunt Milly's shawl over Youth's arm, "when you wear it you'll always do beautiful things and you'll always seem beautiful and never grow old or ugly!"

Then the Flowers, at the Queen's bidding, danced wildly about Youth to show their joy at her coming--at least Nonie danced wildly, with utter abandon. Forgetting her audience, she had thrown herself heart and soul into the "game."

Again the Queen, she bade the pretty Rose step forward and take Youth by the hand and "walk along with her so that she'll see everything through your spectacles. I bid all _adieu_!"

After one sweeping bow Nonie had to unceremoniously leave the poor Moon-Queen in order to become the joyous Rose to whom had been allotted the pleasant task of accompanying Youth through her life's journey.

She caught Youth by the hand and together, amid loud applause, led mainly by Webb and Peter Hyde, they danced away through the trees and shrubbery to the kitchen garden beyond.

"Author! Author!" came from Peter Hyde's corner and brought Nancy and Nonie, flushed by their play, back to the gathering under the trees.

"I'm blessed if _I_ could make head'nor tail out of any of it, but did you see, Mary Sniggs, the way thet N'York man watched the two of them galivantin'?"

Mrs. Sniggs discreetly snorted into her handkerchief. "That kind o'

play-actin' may be very well for Sabriny Leavitt's niece, but I don'

believe it'll do any girl any good that's gotta earn her livin'!"

Nancy, still breathless, found Peter Hyde at her side. There was an earnestness in the gaze he kept fixed upon her that brought an added color to her cheeks.

"Was it _dreadfully_ silly, Peter? I couldn't resist it. Could you _see_ their faces when they watched Nonie?"

"I could only see you! I feel as though fairies _had_ been here!"

"Peter--_you're_ silly," rebuked Nancy. "Shall I give you one of my fairy gifts? The flower--or the leaf----"

"I want the ring," he answered with provoking gravity.

"There--you shall have it! Now you will love everybody and everybody will love you," Nancy laughed, placing the dandelion stem in his outstretched hand.

She was tremendously glad that at that moment Theodore Hoffman joined them--Peter Hyde had so seriously patted the pocket into which he had placed the ring--as though he really believed it could work its magic!

She turned eagerly to the master but he spoke first.

"Tell me--I am haunted by a thousand memories--who in the world is this strange little creature?"

Nancy told the master of Nonie, of that first night in the orchard, of her strange gift of imagination, of her "pretend" games by which she had persistently gilded over the very rough spots of a sordid, lonely life.

"She is always reaching out for the spirit of the things about her and trying to make each her own!"

"She is like a flower that has grown up among weeds," muttered the great man, his thoughts far away, a frown wrinkling his brow.

"Sometimes, it is in such places that we find the greatest gifts. I wonder," he gave a little start, as though bringing himself, with an effort, back to the garden. "It's always been a hobby of mine, hunting around in queer places for something I can give to my Art. Perhaps you don't understand me, but, wherever I am, I am watching, watching all the time, for a promise of talent that, if properly cultivated and trained, will give something to the greatest of the Arts--dramatic expression."

Thrilled, Nancy sat tongue-tied, afraid to speak. He went on: "I said I was haunted--years ago I ran across another child, not unlike this one. She gave rare promise of genius. I put her in my school. I had her there several years. I looked for a great deal from her. But--she failed me."

"Did she--die?"

The master laughed. "No, she loved a man more than she did her art. I was jealous--unreasonable. I let her go away--heard nothing more of her. I suppose she married. She's probably fat now, with a half-dozen squalling babies. Yes, I was jealous--I wanted to give her to my art, soul and body--as a fanatic would make his offering to his G.o.ds. And this child has made me think of her again. It has been a most interesting hour, Miss Leavitt. You say the child's head is full of this sort of thing? H-mm."

Now the garden was filled with a babble of voices intermingled with the clinking of spoons and dishes. Someone had overheard the great man's praise of Nonie's "play-actin'," and the word spread quickly. Mrs.

Brown allowed it was "just spooky the way that child could make you think she was what she wasn't" and Mrs. Slade's sister's sister-in-law had seen Maude Adams in a play where she'd "pretended something all the time--something 'bout Cinderella, and like as not it might have been 'bout fairies, too." Under the stimulation of iced tea and cakes and caramel ice cream, served from delicate china, praise for Nonie grew and the fairy leaf that Youth carried, so that "people would be kind,"

began to work its magic in the garden.

It was well toward sunset when the last guest departed. Nancy, standing in the doorway with the empty house behind her, and before her the deserted garden, with its chairs and tables in crazy disarray, sent a wild little prayer down the road after the purple automobile that had whirled away carrying the great master and her poor little play.

"_Please_ think it's good! I worked so hard."

As her eye caught the gleam of gabled housetops through the trees Nancy suddenly pictured how, at that very moment, every home in Freedom was echoing with the story of the party.

It had been a success! All Freedom--through the women's eyes--had been there to see precious Aunt Milly; now they knew that Happy House was a happy house. And, wonder of wonders, she had heard Mrs. Sniggs, in a most friendly way, ask Liz Hopworth to drop in and show her how she made her "plum jell."

Suddenly Nancy seemed to hear Peter Hyde saying: "I didn't see anything but you!" How silly he'd been--putting that absurd dandelion stem into his pocket, as though it really _had_ some magic! Then, with quite unaccountable haste, as though to run away from her own meditations, Nancy rushed to the kitchen and begged B'lindy to let her help "clear up."

CHAPTER XX

A PICNIC

A reaction set in after the party, Miss Milly, over-fatigued, had had to stay in her room. Happy House, itself, fell back into its old ways; again the blinds were shut, the flower vases disappeared and the peac.o.c.k feathers were returned to their places of honor. B'lindy developed rheumatism.

Too, a week followed of long hot days and stifling nights, "brewin' up for somethin'," B'lindy declared.