The S. W. F. Club Part 7

"We have such a lot of picnics--year after year!"

"A nice picnic is always sort of new. Miranda does put up such beautiful lunches. O Paul, couldn't we afford chocolate layer cake _every_ time, now?"

"You goosey!" Pauline laughed again heartily.

"And maybe there'll be an excursion somewhere's, and by'n'by there'll be the town fair. Paul, there's a ripe berry! And another and--"

"See here, hold on, Impatience!" Pauline protested, as the berries disappeared, one after another, down Patience's small throat.

"Perhaps, if you stop eating them all, we can get enough for mother's and father's supper."

"Maybe they went and hurried to get ripe for to-night, so we could celebrate," Patience suggested. "Paul, mayn't I go with you next time you go over to The Maples?"

"We'll see what mother says."

"I hate 'we'll see's'!" Patience declared, reaching so far over after a particularly tempting berry, that she lost her balance, and fell face down among them.

"Oh, dear!" she sighed, as her sister came to her a.s.sistance, "something always seems to happen clean-ap.r.o.n afternoon! Paul, wouldn't it be a 'good time,' if Miranda would agree not to scold 'bout perfectly unavoidable accidents once this whole summer?"

"Who's to do the deciding as to the unavoidableness?" Pauline asked.

"Come on, Patience, we've got about all the ripe ones, and it must be time for you to lay the supper-table."

"Not laying supper-tables would be another good time," Patience answered. "We did get enough, didn't we? I'll hull them."

"I wonder," Pauline said, more as if speaking to herself, "whether maybe mother wouldn't think it good to have Jane in now and then--for extra work? Not supper-tables, young lady."

"Jane would love it. She likes to work with Miranda--she says Miranda's such a nice lady. Do you think she is, Paul?"

"I'm thinking about other things just now."

"I don't--There's mother. Goodness, Miranda's got the cloth on!"

And away sped the child.

To Patience's astonishment, nothing was said at supper, either of Uncle Paul's letter, or the wonderful things it was to lead to. Mr. Shaw kept his wife engaged with parish subjects and Pauline appeared lost in thoughts of her own. Patience fidgeted as openly as she dared. Of all queer grown-ups--and it looked as though most grown-ups were more or less queer--father was certainly the queerest. Of course, he knew about the letter; and how could he go on talking about stupid, uninteresting matters--like the Ladies' Aid and the new hymn books?

Even the first strawberries of the season pa.s.sed unnoticed, as far as he was concerned, though Mrs. Shaw gave Patience a little smiling nod, in recognition of them.

"Mother," Pauline exclaimed, the moment her father had gone back to his study, "I've been thinking--Suppose we get Hilary to pretend--that coming home is coming to a _new_ place? That she is coming to visit us? We'll think up all the interesting things to do, that we can, and the pretty places to show her."

"That would be a good plan, Pauline."

"And if she's company, she'll have to have the spare room," Patience added.

"Jolly for you, Patience!" Pauline said. "Only, mother, Hilary doesn't like the spare room; she says it's the dreariest room in the house."

"If she's company, she'll have to pretend to like it, it wouldn't be good manners not to," Patience observed. The prospect opening out ahead of them seemed full of delightful possibilities. "I hope Miranda catches on to the game, and gives us pound-cake and hot biscuits for supper ever so often, and doesn't call me to do things, when I'm busy entertaining 'the company.'"

"Mother," Pauline broke in--"do keep quiet. Impatience--couldn't we do the spare room over--there's that twenty-five dollars? We've planned it so often."

"We might make some alterations, dear--at least."

"We'll take stock the first thing to-morrow morning. I suppose we can't really start in before Monday."

"Hardly, seeing that it is Friday night."

They were still talking this new idea over, though Patience had been sent to bed, when Mr. Shaw came in from a visit to a sick paris.h.i.+oner.

"We've got the most beautiful scheme on hand, father," Pauline told him, wheeling forward his favorite chair. She hoped he would sit down and talk things over with them, instead of going on to the study; it wouldn't be half as nice, if he stayed outside of everything.

"New schemes appear to be rampant these days," Mr. Shaw said, but he settled himself comfortably in the big chair, quite as though he meant to stay with them. "What is this particular one?"

He listened, while Pauline explained, really listened, instead of merely seeming to. "It does appear an excellent idea," he said; "but why should it be Hilary only, who is to try to see Winton with new eyes this summer? Suppose we were all to do so?"

Pauline clapped her hands softly. "Then you'll help us? And we'll all pretend. Maybe Uncle Paul's thought isn't such a bad one, after all."

"Paul always believed in developing the opportunities nearest hand,"

Mr. Shaw answered. He stroked the head Towser laid against his knee.

"Your mother and I will be the gainers--if we keep all our girls at home, and still achieve the desired end."

Pauline glanced up quickly. How could she have thought him unheeding--indifferent?

"Somehow, I think it will work out all right," she said. "Anyhow, we're going to try it, aren't we. Mother Shaw? Patience thinks it the best idea ever, there'll be no urging needed there."

Pauline went up to bed that night feeling strangely happy. For one thing the uncertainty was over, and if they set to work to make this summer full of interest, to break up the monotony and routine that Hilary found so irksome, the result must be satisfactory. And lastly, there was the comforting conviction, that whatever displeasure her father had felt at first, at her taking the law into her own hands in such unforeseen fas.h.i.+on, had disappeared now; and he was not going to stay "outside of things," that was sure.

The next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Pauline ran up-stairs to the spare room. She threw open the shutters of the four windows, letting in the fresh morning air. The side windows faced west, and looked out across the pleasant tree-shaded yard to the church; those at the front faced south, overlooking the broad village street.

In the bright sunlight, the big square room stood forth in all its prim orderliness. "It is ugly," Pauline decided, shaking her head disapprovingly, but it had possibilities. No room, with four such generous windows and--for the fire-board must come out--such a wide deep fireplace, could be without them.

She turned, as her mother came in, duly attended by Patience. "It is hideous, isn't it, mother? The paper, I mean--and the carpet isn't much better. It did very well, I suppose, for the visiting ministers--probably they're too busy thinking over their sermons to notice--but for Hilary--"

Mrs. Shaw smiled. "Perhaps you are right, dear. As to the unattractiveness of the paper--"

"We must repaper--that's sure; plain green, with a little touch of color in the border, and, oh, Mother Shaw, wouldn't a green and white matting be lovely?"

"And expensive, Pauline."

"It wouldn't take all the twenty-five, I'm sure. Miranda'll do the papering, I know. She did the study last year. Mother, couldn't we have Jane in for the was.h.i.+ng and ironing this week, and let Miranda get right at this room? I'll help with the ironing, too."

"I suppose so, dear. Miranda is rather fussy about letting other people do her regular work, you know."

"I'll ask her."

"And remember, Pauline, each day is going to bring new demands--don't put all your eggs into one basket."

"I won't. We needn't spend anything on this room except for the paper and matting."

Half an hour later, Pauline was on her way down to the village store for samples of paper. She had already settled the matter with Miranda, over the wiping of the breakfast dishes.

Miranda had lived with the Shaws ever since Pauline was a baby, and was a very important member of the family, both in her own and their opinion. She was tall and gaunt, and somewhat severe looking; however, in her case, looks were deceptive. It would never have occurred to Miranda that the Shaws' interests were not her interests--she considered herself an important factor in the upbringing of the three young people. If she had a favorite, it was probably Hilary.