Peggy Raymond's Way; Or, Blossom Time at Friendly Terrace

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  PEGGY RAYMOND'S WAY

  _Or_

  BLOSSOM TIME AT FRIENDLY TERRACE

  _The Friendly Terrace Series_

  BY

  HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH

  _The Girls of Friendly Terrace_ $1.65 _Peggy Raymond's Vacation_ 1.65 _Peggy Raymond's School Days_ 1.65 _The Friendly Terrace Quartette_ 1.65 _Peggy Raymond's Way_ 1.75

  THE PAGE COMPANY 53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.

  PEGGY RAYMOND]

  _The Friendly Terrace Series_

  PEGGY RAYMOND'S WAY

  Or, Blossom Time at Friendly Terrace

  BY HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH Author of "The Girls of Friendly Terrace," "Peggy Raymond's Vacation," "Peggy Raymond's School Days," "The Friendly Terrace Quartette," etc.

  ILLUSTRATED BY FRANK T. MERRILL

  BOSTON THE PAGE COMPANY MDCCCCXXII

  _Copyright, 1922_, BY THE PAGE COMPANY

  _All rights reserved_

  Made in U. S. A.

  First Impression, August, 1922

  PRINTED BY C. H. SIMONDS COMPANY BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I WHAT'S IN A NAME? 1 II A TELEPHONE PARTY 22 III A TRIUMPH OF ART 39 IV AN AFTERNOON CALL 59 V THE RUMMAGE SALE 69 VI PRISCILLA HAS A SECRET 85 VII THE FRIENDLY TERRACE ORPHANAGE 98 VIII THE LONGEST WEEK ON RECORD 113 IX THE MOST WONDERFUL THING IN THE WORLD 129 X MISTRESS AND MAID 143 XI QUITE INFORMAL 156 XII GOOD-BY 169 XIII PEGGY GIVES A DINNER PARTY 186 XIV AT THE FOOT-BALL GAME 201 XV THE CURE 215 XVI DELIVERANCE 230 XVII PEGGY COMES TO A DECISION 241 XVIII A PARTIAL ECLIPSE 252 XIX THE END OF SCHOOL LIFE 268 XX A SURPRISE 284 XXI A MISSING BRIDE 296 XXII A JULY WEDDING 313

  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  PAGE PEGGY RAYMOND _Frontispiece_ "'COME RIGHT IN,' SAID AMY WITH A MISLEADING AIR OF CORDIALITY" 9 "'A HUNDRED DOLLARS AIN'T ANY TOO MUCH TO PAY FOR HAVING YOUR LIFE SAVED'" 127 "SHE RAISED HER EYES AND MET HIS" 184 "PEGGY LOOKED AT HIM WITHOUT REPLYING" 247

  Peggy Raymond's Way

  CHAPTER I

  WHAT'S IN A NAME?

  IT was the first day of the spring vacation, and Amy Lassell hadspent it sewing. To be frank, it had not measured up to her ideaof a holiday. Self-indulgence was Amy's besetting weakness. Herdearest friend, Peggy Raymond, was never happy unless she was busy atsomething, but Amy loved the luxury of idleness.

  Yet although indolence appealed so strongly to Amy's temperament, todo her justice she was generally able to turn a deaf ear to its call.The first summer after America's entry into the war she had enlisted inthe Land Army along with Peggy and Priscilla, and then in the fall hadtaken up her work at the local Red Cross headquarters, serving in anunpaid position as conscientiously as if she had received a salary andwas depending on it for her bread and butter.

  After a strenuous year with the Red Cross, Amy had entered college withRuth Wylie. Neither girl had expected to enter till after the close ofthe war, and Amy was continually harping upon the respect which theyoung and unsophisticated Freshmen were bound to feel for classmates ofsuch advanced years. But Nelson Hallowell's discharge from the servicehad altered the aspect of affairs. Ruth had pledged herself to keepNelson's position for him till he should return, and Amy had promisedto wait for Ruth. The wound which had kept Nelson in the hospital lessthan a month had nevertheless incapacitated him from military service.Heavy-hearted, he had returned to his job at the book store, while Ruthand Amy had immediately made their plans for entering college just twoyears behind Peggy and Priscilla.

  After her months of hard study, the first day of the spring vacationfound Amy at the sewing machine, which in itself was sufficient proofthat, whatever her natural bias in the direction of indolence, herwill was more than a match for that tendency. As a matter of fact shewas the only one of the Friendly Terrace quartette to spend the dayin unremitting industry. Peggy and Ruth had gone off with Graham forthe day. Priscilla was entertaining an out-of-town guest. But Amy,resolution manifest in every line of her plump little figure, wassewing for dear life.

  Though the armistice had been signed months before, there stillremained foes to fight, as the girls had promptly discovered. Thereaction from economy and hard work had come in the shape of an orgyof extravagance and frivolity. The high war prices were continuallygoing higher, as dealers realized that people would get what theywanted regardless of price. The four Friendly Terrace girls, afteran afternoon of shopping which had ended in the purchase of a box ofhair-pins and two spools of thread, had returned home to hold a councilof war.

  "The only way to bring prices down is to stop buying things," declaredPeggy, with all the authority of a college Junior. "I don't know asI have anything to make over, but if I have, nothing new for me thisspring."

  Amy sighed. "I'd just been luxuriating in the thought of a lot of newdresses," she said mournfully. "Don't you know how after you've beendieting, all at once you're hungry for creamed chicken and pineapplefritters, and chocolate with whipped cream, and strawberry sundaes, allrolled into one. And that's just the way I feel about clothes. But Isuppose it will end in my making over my blue taffeta."

  "I've two or three summer dresses that will do very well if I make theskirts scanty," said Ruth. "They're too full for this season."

  They talked on seriously, planning their little economies as if theyexpected unaided to bring down the high cost of living. They werenot the sort of girls who follow the crowd unthinkingly, nor had anyof them contracted the fatal habit of asking, "What can one do?" Theprogram they outlined would have resulted in a general lowering ofprices in a month's time if every one had agreed to it. And it did notoccur to them that public indifference excused them from doing theirlittle part toward combating a serious evil.

  That was how it happened that Amy Lassell had spent the spring daysewing. The blue taffeta had been ripped and pressed in anticipationof the vacation leisure, and as soon as the breakfast dishes were outof the way Amy had commandeered the dining-room table as a cuttingtable. With the help of a paper pattern she had remodeled the taffetaaccording to the latest dictates of fashion. Caution suggested thatit would be advisable to wait for assistance in the fitting, buthaving basted the breadths together and surveyed her reflection in themirror, Amy had been so favorably impressed that she had gone to workenergetically stitching up seams.

  Like many people whose natural tendency is in the direction ofindolence, Amy was capable of relentless industry, almost as though shewere afraid that if once she halted she might not get her courage tothe point of starting again. She swallowed a hasty luncheon and rushedback to her sewing. Her eyes grew tired, her back ached. She becamenervous and hot and impatie
nt, so that breaking a thread or dropping athimble seemed almost a calamity. And yet she did not stop.

  It was after five when she laid her work reluctantly aside. Amy'sresponsibilities for the day were not limited to the blue taffeta. Asin many another household, the domestic service problem had becomeacute in the Lassell establishment during the last few years. Incapableservants demanding preposterous wages, had been replaced by othersequally incompetent, and there had been interims when it had beendifficult to secure so much as a laundress. Amy and her mother hadlearned a good many short cuts to achievement, and had accepted thefrequent necessity of doing their own work with a philosophy of whichthey would have been incapable in pre-war times. On this first day ofvacation Amy was without a servant, and without a mother, as well;for Mrs. Lassell had left home that morning not to return till nearlybed-time.

  At five o'clock the realization that she must prepare her father'ssupper forced itself on Amy's attention. It was not a formidableresponsibility, for at breakfast that morning Mr. Lassell had informedher that he was to take a customer out to lunch and would be satisfiedwith very little for the evening meal. Amy meant to take him at hisword. There was cold meat, quite enough for two, she thought; andsome potatoes to fry, and her father did not care much for dessert.Accordingly, Amy had waited till five o'clock before she laid down hersewing, and then she realized for the first time how very tired shewas. A glimpse of herself in the mirror emphasized her certainty thatit was high time to stop. Amy's fair hair was disheveled, her plumpcheeks brilliantly pink. There were dark lines under her eyes, eloquentof weariness. Amy regarded herself with extreme disfavor.

  "Looks as if I'd taken up rouge in my old age. And I positively mustdo my hair over. I can't ask even poor patient daddy to look at sucha frowsy head all through supper. O, well, he won't mind, if I am alittle late."

  Encouraging herself with this reflection, Amy bathed her burningcheeks, combed her hair hastily, and slipped into a little ginghamgown which, if somewhat faded and passee, had at least the merit ofbeing fresh and clean. It buttoned in the back, and by virtue of muchtwisting and stretching Amy finally succeeded in securing the middlebutton which for a time had defied her efforts. And just as she did so,the door-bell rang.

  "'COME RIGHT IN,' SAID AMY WITH A MISLEADING AIR OFCORDIALITY"]

  Amy went placidly downstairs. She had no apprehensions about thedoor-bell. She took it for granted that it was somebody to collect forthe newspaper, or an old-clothes man, or else a friend so intimatethat she could ask her into the kitchen while she made her supperpreparations. As she reached the door she realized her mistake. Ofthe two young people waiting admission she had met the sister severaltimes. The brother she knew merely by sight, for the family had movedinto the neighborhood only recently.

  For a moment Amy's mood was one of unqualified dismay. She wanted toturn and run. With lightning-like rapidity she compared her fadedgingham with the stylish frock setting off the girlish, graceful figureof Hildegarde Carey. And Hildegarde's brother, Robert, if looking atrifle bored, was immaculately attired. Amy recollected that in herabsorption with the blue taffeta she had neglected to dust the livingroom that morning.

  Amy opened the door with a smile that poorly concealed her anguish ofspirit. Her flickering hope that Hildegarde had made a mistake in thenumber was dissipated by the composure of Hildegarde's greeting. Thetwo young people entered, as Amy realized, without waiting to be asked,and in the hall Hildegarde performed the ceremony of introduction.

  "Come right in," said Amy with a misleading air of cordiality. Shewondered if she had better apologize for the undusted living room, butdecided against it. Perhaps they would overlook it, though Robert Careyimpressed her as one who would notice the least little thing out ofthe way. Amy decided that the young fellow's handsome face was almostspoiled by its discontented expression.

  Another shock came when she said to Hildegarde, "Let me take yourcoat." She expected Hildegarde to reply that the coat was light andthat she did not mind it for the few minutes she had to stay; but onthe contrary she not only removed her coat, but slipped off her gloves,unpinned her hat, and added it to the collection Amy carried into thehall with a growing sense of stupefaction. "Any one would think," shetold herself, "that she was an old friend come to spend the day."

  Perhaps Amy's perplexity partly explained the fact that the next halfhour dragged. Amy was not her usual entertaining self. She thoughtof the dust showing gray against the shining mahogany of the piano.She thought of her faded gingham. She heard herself talking stupidly,unnaturally, and chiefly about the weather. Robert Carey looked morebored than ever.

  At half past six her father came in. He glanced at the group in theliving room as he entered, and Amy hastily summoned him. Her guestsmust realize that when the man of the house came home it was time toleave. Amy introduced her father, pulled out an arm chair invitingly,and Mr. Lassell seated himself. It was from him that his daughter hadinherited her sense of humor, and on this occasion he made himselfmuch more entertaining than Amy had done. The conversation becamealmost animated.

  The clock in the hall struck seven, tolling out the notes sonorously.Every one seemed to be listening to it, and Amy flushed. It was almostas if the clock had said, "Time to go home! Time to go home!" And thento her horror her father turned toward her inquiringly. "Hadn't youbetter put on the supper, my dear?" he asked. "Your friends will begetting hungry."

  For an agonized half minute Amy vainly tried to think of something shecould say to soften the blow. She was magnanimous enough to acquither father of all blame. Seeing them sitting there at that hour,especially as Hildegarde had taken off her hat, he had innocentlyassumed that they had been invited to dinner. And of course his blunderwas equivalent to saying that they had stayed longer than was proper ordesirable.

  Then Amy's head whirled again. Her guests did not spring to their feetas she had expected them to do, protesting that they had not dreamedit was so late. Instead they sat quite still, only murmuring a politedisclaimer of being hungry. With the force of a blow the realizationcame over Amy that they had accepted her father's tacit invitation.They were going to stay to supper.

  Amy rose, murmuring something unintelligible, and got out of theroom quickly. O, if Peggy were only home, Peggy who had such afaculty for evolving something savory and appetizing from the leastpromising materials. Amy's cooking until recently had been confinedto chafing-dish delicacies and candy. It was too late, she realized,to add to her scanty stores. She must feed four people with what hadseemed barely enough for two, and must do it quickly.

  Mechanically she lighted the oven of the gas stove. She rememberedthere was a can of tomato soup in the house, and the cold meat, slicedvery thin, might possibly pass muster. She herself would refuse meat.Luckily there was a generous plateful of potatoes. Creamed and with alittle cheese grated over them, they would be appetizing--and filling.She could make baking powder biscuit,--Amy excelled in baking powderbiscuit--and there was honey to eat with them. For dessert she wouldfall back on preserved peaches and some left-over fruit cake. It was aqueer, hit-or-miss meal, not a company repast in any sense of the word,but the best she could do under the circumstances.

  It was while the biscuits were browning in the oven, and Amy washastily setting the table for four, that her native common-sensere-asserted itself. "After all," her thoughts ran, "if people take potluck, they can't expect to find things just as they would be if theywere especially invited. They've seemed real friendly and if they likeme well enough to stay to a pick-up supper, the first time they've everset foot in my home, I ought to meet them half way. I can't give themmuch to eat, but I don't need to be quite as stupid as I've been forthe last hour."

  And so it came about that when the guests were summoned to the diningroom, they encountered a very different hostess from the one who hadentertained them previously, a hostess who twinkled and sparkled andkept them laughing. It seemed to Amy that, when she had removed thesoup plates and brought in the sliced meat and creame
d potatoes, shehad seen an expression of astonishment flicker across Hildegarde'sface, but she resolutely put the thought aside and continued to makeherself agreeable. The baking-powder biscuits had risen nobly to theoccasion. Amy thought them the best she had ever made. And she saw withrelief that the bored expression had disappeared from Robert Carey'sface, and that he really seemed to be enjoying himself.

  Then suddenly into the midst of all this gaiety, Hildegarde dropped abomb in the shape of a question. "What happened to detain Isabel?"

  "Isabel?"

  "Yes, Isabel Vincent, you know."

  "I'm afraid," Amy hesitated, "that I don't know any one of that name."

  Apparently the meal had come to a full stop. "Why," Hildegarde cried,"the Isabel Vincent who attended the Pelham school when I was there."

  She was so insistent that Amy unconsciously became apologetic. "I'msorry but I can't say I remember such a girl. Did she ever say she hadmet me?"

  "Why," Hildegarde almost screamed, "didn't you ask us here to-night tomeet her?"

  "To meet Isabel Vincent! Why, I never heard of her."

  "There's some mistake," exclaimed Robert. He had just helped himself toa fifth baking-powder biscuit, but he laid it down unbuttered. "You'vemade some mistake," he informed his sister.

  Hildegarde ignored him and addressed herself to Amy. "Didn't youtelephone me this morning?"

  "I--why, to tell the truth, no I didn't."

  "Then it was a disgusting practical joke. Some one called me up abouteleven o'clock and said she was Amy Lassell, and that Isabel Vincentwas to stop here twenty-four hours on her way to New York from her homein Chicago. And then she invited Bob and me to dinner to meet Isabel.There wasn't anything in her manner to give me an idea it was a hoax."

  But Amy had found the clew. "O, did Isabel come from Chicago?" shecried. "Then I know. It was Avery Zall who telephoned you."

  "But I don't know her."

  "She went away to boarding school--yes, it was the Pelham school, I'msure. And I know she has a friend from Chicago visiting her. Probablythe Vincent girl spoke of knowing you, and Avery called you up. O,dear!" groaned Amy with a sudden change of countenance.

  "What's the matter?" demanded Bob Carey, still ignoring his biscuit.

  "I've cheated you out of a regular feast. The Zalls have a wonderfulcook. You'd have had broiled chicken and fresh mushrooms and I don'tknow what beside, and I've given you cold meat and--"

  "You've given us the best biscuits I ever ate," said Bob, and butteredhis fifth, but his sister had turned pale.

  "I don't believe any one ever did such a dreadful thing before. Here wedescended on you without warning and simply forced you to invite us tostay--"

  "Happy escape, I think," said Bob. "If there's anything I hate, it'sthese social stunts Hildegarde's crazy about."

  "The only dreadful part," said Amy, reassuring the distressedHildegarde, "is that you've exchanged a perfectly gorgeous dinner for apick-up supper."

  "But what must Miss--Miss Zall think of me?"

  "She must know there's some mistake. Probably they're not waitingdinner any longer, for it's after eight o'clock."

  "O," groaned Hildegarde, "I never was so mortified. What am I going todo?"

  "It seems to me you'd better finish your supper, such as it is,"suggested Amy. "And then you can call up Avery Zall and explain yourmistake. She'll see that the names sound alike over the phone. Andafter that there'll be plenty of time to see your friends."

  "Seems to me," suggested Bob, "that as long as we've started theevening here, we might as well put it through."

  His eyes met Amy's with a twinkle that was like a spark to tinder. Amystruggled for a moment, then gave way to peals of laughter.

  "O," she gasped, when at length she could find her voice, "What mustyou have thought of me, inviting you to dinner and then coming down inthis old, faded gingham."

  "And what must you have thought of _me_," Hildegarde cried, "coming atsuch an hour and calmly taking off my hat."

  "The dust was thick over everything," giggled Amy. "I've been sewingevery minute all day long, and I warned father to expect a light meal."

  "I should have known I had made a mistake," Hildegarde lamented, "whenyou never said a word about Isabel. I don't know how I could have beenso ridiculously stupid."

  But for all her dismay, she laughed. Indeed if laughter aids digestion,there was little danger that Amy's biscuits would disagree with anyone, even Robert, who had dispatched such an extravagant number.

  While Amy cleared the table and brought in the dessert, Hildegarde wentto the phone and explained matters to a young woman whose preliminarystiffness melted as Hildegarde reviewed the situation. And thenHildegarde hurried back to inform her brother that they must go overas soon as he had finished. "She was as sweet as she could be, but shesaid they had waited dinner an hour."

  "So it's up to you to 'gobble and git,'" quoted Amy, dishing out thepreserves with a lavish hand.

  "I'm not going to be hurried over that fruit cake," declared Bob. "Itcarries me back to the merry Christmas time."

  "It ought to, for it's a Christmas cake, but it's been kept in a tinbox with an apple and I hope it isn't dry. It was all I had in the cakeline." Amy paused to laugh again. "I really must stop," she exclaimed,wiping her moist eyes. "They say that laughing at meal-time makes onefat, and I don't dare risk another pound."

  "Can't have too much of a good thing," declared Bob Carey with asignificant glance at the flushed face. Strictly speaking, Amy wasperhaps the least pretty of the four Friendly Terrace girls; but goodhumor has a charm, and a face radiant with fun can hold its ownagainst discontented beauty any day. There was such frank admiration inthe look the young man bent upon her, that Amy's cheeks grew hot withan unwonted self-consciousness.

  The brother and sister left with evident reluctance. "Now we've haddinner with you," said Hildegarde, "you must dine with us very soon."

  "Oh, this doesn't deserve to be counted," Amy laughed. "I'll ask youagain some day and show you what I can do if I really try."

  "No, don't," pleaded Bob. "Have us again when you're going to havebiscuit. It's so much jollier to be informal than to work the societyracket." And then Hildegarde carried him off, protesting that, if theydidn't hurry, Avery Zall would not believe a word of her excuse.

  Amy found her father clearing the table. She put on her long apron andjoined him, chattering excitedly as she worked.

  "No full garbage can to-night, Daddy. Every dish is scraped clean. Isuppose I ought to feel crushed over setting such a meal before peopleI hardly knew, but somehow I don't."

  Her father smiling, responsive to her high spirits, shook his head.

  "It isn't much to set good food before folks, Amy. Any waiter in arestaurant can do that. Give people the best of yourself and you don'tneed to worry about your bill of fare."