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Wiggs got up and went toward the bed. The three little girls lay huddled under one old quilt, their faces pale and sunken. She turned away abruptly, and looked toward the corner where Billy slept on a pallet. The blankets on his bed were insufficient even for him. She put her hands over her face, and for a moment dry sobs convulsed her. The hardest grief is often that which leaves no trace.
This taciturn little girl, with her old, solemn face and clever fingers, was her favorite of the children. "What are you making?" she asked, as the child dipped a brush into one of three cans which stood before her. "She's paintin' a picture," announced Mrs. Wiggs, proudly.
"You see, it's a newspaper office, and while the pay isn't much at first, still it's better than peddling kindling, and there would be a chance for promotion as he got older." "Oh, yes," answered Mrs. Wiggs, complacently; "there wouldn't be no trouble 'bout Billy promotin'. I 'spect he could take to writin' newspapers right away, if you could hold him down to it.
Lovey Mary, flushed with the intoxication of her first compliment, went back and tried on the dress. Miss Hazy got so interested that she forgot to get supper. "You look so nice I never would 'a' knowed you in the world!" she declared. "You don't look picked, like you did in that other dress." "That Wiggs girl said I looked nice in red," said Lovey Mary tentatively.
"Who is that lady?" she demanded suspiciously of Europena Wiggs, who was swinging violently on the gate. "'T ain't no lady," said Europena. "It's my Sunday-school teacher." "Mrs. Redding?" "Uh-huh. She wants Asia to come over to her house this evenin'." "Wisht I could go," said Lovey Mary. "Why can't you?" asked Mrs. Wiggs, coming to the open door. "Asia would jes love to show Mrs.
"Well, she got it all in," said Mrs. Wiggs, in a relieved tone, as Europena was lifted down. After this, other little girls came forward and made some unintelligible remarks concerning Santa Claus. It was with some difficulty that they went through their parts, for Mr. Rothchild kept getting in the way as he calmly and uncompromisingly continued to hang cornucopias on the tree.
Where's he at?" "They 're bringin' him up the railroad track." Mrs. Wiggs rushed into the house. "Don't let on to Miss Hazy till we git him in," she cautioned, snatching up a bundle of rags and a bottle of liniment. "Pore chile! How it must hurt him! I'll run down the track an' meet 'em." She was breathless and trembling from excitement as she turned the corner at Mrs. Schultz's.
Under this able generalship, the work was soon under way; the boys were despatched with the tickets, and the house was being put straight at least the parlor was. It would have required many days to restore order to the chaos that habitually existed in the house of Wiggs. "Asia, you help me roll these here barrels out on the porch, an' I 'll mop up the floor," said Mrs. Wiggs.
Before Redding could answer, Mrs. Wiggs broke in: "You'd be gittin' a artist, Mr. Bob! Them fingers of hers kin do anything. Last fall she built that there little greenhouse out of ole planks, an' kep' it full of flowers all winter; put a lamp in durin' the cold spell. You orter see the things she's painted. And talk about mud pictures!
Half the ruling sovereigns of Europe and all the leaders of European swelldom, the more prosperous of the demi-mondaines and no end of the merely rich of every land, congregate there and thereabouts. At the top of the season the show of opulence and impudence is bewildering. The little principality of Monaco is hardly bigger than the Cabbage Patch of the renowned Mrs. Wiggs.
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