The Housekeeper’s One.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVIII, Issue IX, 1 March 1902, Page 430

The Housekeeper’s One.

“I’ll cut up my jam apples this very day,” said Mrs Tubbins. And Polly and Peggy, who were having a dolls’ dinner-party, and finding some difficulty in cutting their two apples with the dolls’ tin knives, thought how grand it must be to be grown up and have dozens of apples and real, sharp knives. A “rat-tat” at the door, however, quite upset the dinner-party. “I’ll go, Mummy!” cried Peggy. “No, I’ll go,” said Poll, “I’m oldest.” “The quickest legs will get their first,” laughed Mrs Tubbins, as the sisters disappeared. “A letter from Dickie, I’ll be bound,” she said to herself. “When I’m big I shall always have my letters in brown envelopes with reading on them,” said Polly, as she came back excitedly, “and a postman who waits to take back what I want to say ” “Quick, child, quick!” cried Mrs Tubbins, catching sight of the brown envelope. “It’s a telegram!” The sight of their mother’s white face silenced the children, and they watched with awed faces as she tore open the envelope and read the few words inside. “Dick is ill,” she gasped. “Oh, what can 1 do? I must go to him!” “Dickie!” cried the children, seared by the terrible news. Diekie, their splendid brother Dickie, three years older even than Polly, who was away at a big school learning wonderful things. “Let me think,” said poor Mrs Tubbins, putting her hand to her head, as if she did not quite know what to do first. “Run, children, as fast as you can to Father at the office. Tell him Dickie is ill, and I must go to him; and ask him to get Farmer Barnes' gig to take me to the station. and then come home at once.” Full of the importance of their errand, the children flew off like hares; and the poor mother hurried to get ready for her sad journey. Dickie Tubbins had always been the pride and delight of his own home and the village; he was so goodnatured, and merr.v. and clever. And

it had been decided that he must be sent to a good school to give him the chance of growing up to be a famous man. So Father and Mother and Polly and Peggy had all to be very careful, for money had to be saved for Dickie’s learning- and Polly was quite proud to wear h' summer frock for two years instea of one, and Peggy- was just as prou. to wear Polly’s pinafores when Poity grew out of them, that Dickie might be able to have all 'the books he needed. And they sometimes wondered whether when he was grown up he would drive a red and yellow van, like the grand one that brought the groceries; or whether it would only have yellowwheels, like the squire’s; cr whether he would have a train and engine all of his own. But now Dickie was very ill; and Mother was crying; and Father’s face was very white as he hurried home, with Polly and Peggy trying to keep up with his long strides. “You’ll be good children, won’t you, dears?” said Mother, “and not quarrel, and you’ll take care of Father, and be regular little housekeepers, won’t you?” “Yes. Mother; we’ll be good all the time,” they cried. “But make haste and make Dickie well. and come home.” Mother kissed them and tried to smile. “Good-bye, dears.” she said. "Perhaps Mrs Martin will run in and see to things a little,” she added to Father, as she climbed into the gig. “Oh, yes, don’t you fret about us, Mary,” said he, as cheerfully as ho could. d’hen Farmer Barnes’ Daisy started, and in a few- minutes the gig was out of sight, and Polly and Peggy were left alone and forlorn on the doorstep. At first it seemed as if they could never care to play again. They conic! think only of Dickie, and w-onder w-hether he would die, and they would never see him again; and they sat down on the doorstep and cried; and ■there was no one to comfort them or care w-hether they went on crying or whether they stopped. At length, grown tired of crying. Pollv thought of a grand idea. “Peggy, you silly,” she said, “what’s the good of going on like that? We’ve got to keep house while Mother’s a wav.” “Well, you were crying too,” sobbed Peggy. “I’m not going to any more, though. Father will want tea when he comes back ” “And I want my tea,” said Peggy, beginning to brighten. “Well, come along, then, and we’l] get it.” And helning Peggy un bv her fat little arm, she began her 'household duties. “This is heaps better than dolls’ parties, isn’t it. Peg?” she said, when the cloth was spread (not very straight), and the plates and cups were set. Heaps.” said Peggy, who always agreed with her sister except when she was cross. When Father came home he patted their heads and said how glad he w-as to have a cun of tea readv. And when he went back to his office afterwards the small housekeepers were verv nroud and busy, washing the teathings with the dolls’ soap and flannel. filling the kettles from Pege-y’s watering-pot. and sweeping the kitchen floor with the dear little black-ing-brush. which left black streaks it is true, but was so easv to hold, and got up all the dust from the cracks in the floor if it was pressed hard enough. “You’d better lie still in b“d till Mrs Martin comes.” said Father next morning, when he looked in to =av “Good-bye” before going off to the office. But when Pollv and Peggy heard the door bang after him t.bev decided that it was not right for housekeepers to be dressed bv anvone else; they ought to dross themselves, of course. So they jumped out of bod and began. ft was not quite so easy as it seemed; sleeves and strings can be very troublesome; hut they had a fine time with the basins and water, and Peggy did up Polly’s back buttons, and Polly tried to plait Peggy’s hair, and everything seemed to be going well. Suddenly i eggy’s shoe flew into the water-jug, and Polly

caught sight of a stream of water trickling from the wash-stand to the carpet. She rushed to it with the sponge, and then ! Crash! Smash! “Oh! ” shriekea Peggy. “Oh!” groaned Polly; and the tooth-brush dish lay in pieces on the floor. “Mother’ll be sorry about that.” said Peggy. Polly nodded her head. “P'raps we can mend it with gum.” she said at last. But >.ie housekeepers were sobered by the accident. and finished their dressing very quietly. There was something unlucky about that day, or why should Peggy have tripped over tne fender and smashed the china tea-pot? Or why should the breakfast-tray wobble in Polly’s hands and then turn over with all the cups and saucers on it? “I think mother’ll be sorry,” said l>e f-’g.v. looking at the ruins. “But she liked the tea-pot best of all,” snapped Polly; and Peggy began to cry. “Housekeepers ~on’t cry,” said Polly scornfully, as she picked up the pieces. So Peggy stopped. Their misfortunes were all forgott en, however, when father came home bringing a letter from mother, saying that Dickie was a real hero. He had tried to save a schoolfellow who had fallen into the river, and had been nearly drowned himself; but he was much better, and he and mother would both be home in a few days.

Polly and Peggy squealed for joy, and dropped the plates they were putting on the dressers; but they were so happy they could think only of Dickie as they pded the fresh pieces on top of the others. "I know!” said Polly, on the wonderful day when mother was coming. "We’ll peel the apples, and put them all ready with the jam - pots, so’s mother can l>egin her jam d’reckly she comes.” “Oh !” gasped Peggy. “Real knives?’ “Of course,” said Polly. If only the knife had not been so sharp or the apples so targe, that wotdd have been a grand morning: but before five minutes had passed there was an awful scream from Peggy, and. dropping her knife, she rushed to Polly. Polly, however, for some moments was not able to comfort her sister. Peggy’s scream had startled her, anil, with a jump, over she went, chair and all. into the tray of jam-pot.-. When she saw blood on Peggy’s finger, though, she forgot her own tumble. “Never mind, Peggy, dear,” she said, "don’t, you cry. Mother'll be here soon. P’raps we’d better not do the apples; we’ll pick up the broken pots instead. When mother and Diekit) arrived there were smiling faces at the door; and however else the housekeepers might have failed they did not fail in their welcome. “We’ve broken some things, mother

dear,” said oily later on; and she took her mother to the kitchen, where the broken china was stacked on the floor. Her mother looked at the remains of her crockeryware am. gasped. Bur in a moment she burst into laughter After all, what clid a few plates ami dishes matter, as long as Dickie was safe and she was home again! So they all. even Dickie, helped to throw away the pieces, and they derided that indeed nothing did matter much as long as they were all happy together. And Polly and Peggy did not mind being known as careless housekeepers as long as Dickie was known as a hero.

L. QUILLER-COUCH.