The Moffats (17 page)

When all this was satisfactorily settled, the man said, "Now scoot! I want me supper!"

Joe and Jane dragged the heavy sled across the barren coal yard. They were glad to be going home. They were good and tired and were thankful for the help the wind gave them in pulling the heavy sled. At last, here they were at the yellow house again. They drew the sled around to the back entry. Joe dragged the coal to the box in the corner. Scraping their feet hard on the mat, they entered the kitchen. Catherine-the-cat gave an angry m-r-r-r at having a draught on her back. They sniffed the potato pancakes that Mama had made fresh for them. Mama's face was rosy from standing over the stove. The others had all eaten and gone into the sitting room. Joe and Jane sat down. Mama put the plates of steaming pancakes before them.

"Too bad you had to go twice," she said, stroking their cold cheeks.

At last the terrific cold weather had gone. Now it was spring. The ground was soft and spongy and the lilacs were in bloom. Jane sat on the hitching post, carefully holding in her moist palm the first few violets she had just found and watching Joe and Rufus. They were over in front of the yellow house practicing on their stilts. Of course Joe was doing very well, but Rufus found that walking on stilts was quite a lot more difficult than just walking on his own two legs. On stilts his legs kept going wider and wider apart all the time so that he had to jump off and begin all over again. Jane couldn't help it; she had to laugh at him. He looked so funny. But Rufus didn't care.

Now and then Joe rested against the front of the yellow house. Once he leaned against the For Sale sign.

"That old sign!" he muttered.

"Why don't you tear it down?" asked Jane, responding to Joe's irritation.

"Can't. But I'll fix it up a bit," said Joe. He took a red chalk from his pocket and changed the
S
into a $ sign.

Jane looked at his work in silent approval. The For Sale sign was weather-beaten and dingy but it most certainly was still there. Now that the warm weather had arrived, a few prospective buyers had come to examine the house. Mama said she would look for another house for them to live in. She didn't like living in a house that might be sold over her head at any minute. But the children begged her not to move until they really had to. "Maybe no one will buy it," they said. For the sign had been there a long time and no one had bought the yellow house yet.

Jane swung around on the hitching post. Of all the houses on New Dollar Street, theirs was the only one with a For Sale sign on it. Why did it have to be
their
house? Because it was the best one, of course.

Now she watched Mr. Brooney, the grocery man, drive up with his horse and wagon. The Moffats called Mr. Brooney's horse the dancey horse, because of the graceful way he threw his legs about when he cantered up the street. Mr. Brooney stopped between Mrs. Squire's house and the yellow house. He threw down the heavy iron weight to keep his horse from dancing away and took several baskets of groceries from the wagon. He crossed the street and disappeared in Mrs. Frost's backyard. He was gone a long time. The horse stood there with the greatest patience. Occasionally he flicked his long tail to rid himself of a pesky fly. Or now and then he wriggled an ear when Sylvie, who was practicing her graduation music, hit a high note. And sometimes he raised one dainty foot or another and then planted it firmly on the ground. For the most part, however, he stood there dreamily, looking neither to left nor to right.

Jane watched him and watched him.

He had wings and could carry her away.

He was the wooden horse of Troy and many men could step out of him.

He was a bridge that she could walk under.

Sitting up there on the hitching post, watching the horse and watching the horse, Jane repeated to herself, "The horse is a bridge for me to walk under, and I'm goin' to walk under it."

So she jumped down and marched over to the horse. He stood there immobile. Except for his eyes, which followed her around like those of the velvet-clad lady in the picture in the sitting room.

Jane walked under him and came out on the other side. This gave her an extraordinary feeling of satisfaction and elation.

At that moment when Jane was walking under the horse, Mama came to the window of the front parlor and shook her duster out vigorously. "Thank heavens!" she said to herself. "Thank heavens, it's spring again and that long hard winter is over." No more fussing with stoves and wondering where the next coal was coming from, she thought, slapping the duster against the green shutters. And better still, there was lots of work to do. Tilly Cadwalader was getting married. Mama had not only the bridal outfit to make but the bridesmaids' gowns, too. The yellow house was just bulging with white satin and tulle, with billowy yellow and lavender tulle. It was to be a really elegant affair that would keep her busy and the pantry full for some time, she thought with satisfaction.

But goodness! Could Mama believe her eyes? What was Janey doing? Walking under that horse! Of all things! Mama was speechless with amazement and dropped the duster out of the window at the sight. Joe and Rufus saw her from the other side of the yard and became all tangled up in their stilts in consequence. Sylvie, who was practicing her singing way back in the kitchen, was the only one who did not see her.

"Jane! Whatever on earth!" Mama cried. "You mustn't do such things. You mustn't walk under horses. They might kick or start walking or something."

Jane stepped thoughtfully up the walk. "All right, Mama," she said.

She had no desire to keep on walking under horses. It was just something she felt she had to do at that moment, just that once. And she knew that horse. She'd been watching him and watching him. So she had walked under

him, and from the feeling inside of her she thought it had turned out to be an all right sort of thing to do—just that once.

Joe and Rufus resumed their stilt-walking. Their sister Jane sometimes did extremely curious things, they agreed.

Mama called to Jane to hand her her duster. Mama was still disturbed about Jane walking under that horse. Of course, she was used to unexpected things happening. After all, with four such children that was only natural. But walking under a horse, now! That was different and dangerous. It is true that Jane herself had no further desire or interest in walking under a horse again. But Mama had no way of knowing this. Goodness! For all she knew, Jane might make a habit of this. Best send her on some errand and get her mind off horses.

"Jane," she said, "run down the street to Tilly Cadwalader's and ask her to just slip on this sleeve for the length."

Mama carefully wrapped the sleeve in white tissue paper. She told Jane not to run and to be very careful. If anything happened to that sleeve, she didn't know what she'd do because there wasn't any more satin and goodness only knows..."Why, maybe Tilly couldn't get married at all if anything happens to this sleeve, and that would be a dreadful thing, a dreadful thing altogether," said Mama, chuckling.

Jane took the package and walked as carefully up the street as though she were carrying a lemon meringue pie. The Cadwaladers lived in a sleepy-looking gray house across the street from Chief Mulligan's. The shingles protruded over each window like languorous, drooping eye-lids.
I bet they close like eyes after everyone has gone to bed
, thought Jane, grinning to herself as she rang the bell. There was a good deal of suspense in ringing the Cadwaladers' bell. There were seven Cadwalader sisters. Of course, you never knew which one of them would open the door. When the door opened, you had the excitement of thinking fast to say the right Hello: Hello, Tilly; Hello, Milly; Hello, Molly, Polly, Lollie; or Hello, Oily. And last, Hello, Nelly. "Like the game of beast, bird, or fish, almost," laughed Jane as the door swung open.

This time it was "Hello, Tilly," the eldest and the only Cadwalader girl who wore her hair high on her head.

Jane stepped into the front parlor. She snuffed the air here. This house had a different sort of smell altogether from the yellow house. She handed the sleeve to Tilly. Tilly tried it on. The six other sisters stood around saying "Oh" and "Ah." Milly Cadwalader wanted to see how Tilly would look as a bride. She snatched down one of the lace curtains and held it on Tilly's head. Yes, she was a bride with the satin sleeve and the lace curtain on. All the sisters clapped their hands and laughed and one thumped "Here Comes the Bride" on the small organ.

Then Milly, Lollie, Polly, Oily, and last of all, little Nelly, had each one to play at being the bride. When this was done, Tilly carefully folded the sleeve into the tissue paper again and then she reached for the bank that stood between a Dresden shepherd and his shepherdess. This bank was made out of an orange.

"How did you ever make it?" marveled Jane politely.

"Just scooped out the insides," said Tilly carelessly. She skillfully coaxed out a nickel for Jane with a nail file.

"There," she said. "Thank you so much for coming way down here with the sleeve. Tell your mother it fits beautifully and looks beautiful. You think she will surely have everything ready on time?"

"Oh, yes," replied Jane. "I'm helpin' with the bastings."

Jane was anxious to be off. The nickel burned in her pocket. As she said good-bye to all the Cadwalader girls, who waved their handkerchiefs and aprons sifter her, she was thinking about all the good things a nickel can buy.

She raced home with the sleeve. She handed it to Mama, who was sewing now in the Grape Room. Sylvie was working in her small patch of vegetable garden, which she had planted just the day before. Joe and Rufus had disappeared somewhere with their stilts. Jane clutched the nickel tightly in her fist and walked slowly up the street. She stopped in the Brick Lot to see if any more violets were up yet. There were three with lovely long stems! She picked these and continued on her way down the street toward the railroad tracks. She was going to Mr. Brooney's store. She would surprise them all with something awfully good.

It was lucky there were four of them, she thought. Everything divided so beautifully into four parts. Sylvie, Joe, Jane, and Rufus could not imagine how it would feel if there were just three of them, or five of them, or any other number of them. Imagine having to divide into three parts like the Pudges. Or seven like the Cadwaladers!
I suppose they are used to it, though
, she thought. But this way, having four in the family, everything was so easy. Cut a piece of chocolate into four parts. No difficulty at all. Or there was one apiece of four-for-a-penny caramels; or a half apiece of two-for-a-penny peppermints. Yes, it was very convenient having four in the family. "When we grow up we shall each have four children," said Jane to herself, "so things will always be easy to divide." Share and share alike was the rule of the Moffat household, and no one ever thought to dispute it.

And now there was this five cents from Tilly Cadwalader. Think of all the fine things it might buy. Twenty caramels, ten sticks of licorice, one ice-cream cone—but that was foolish. An ice-cream cone cannot be divided. Ten peppermint patties, four sheets of paper dolls, one ice-cream cone. "One ice-cream cone" danced before her eyes. It was a hot day for May. It would be nice to taste your first ice-cream cone on a day like this when you had also found your first violets. Oh, if that five cents would only grow into four five-cent pieces!