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Miss Hazy's arrival had changed their point of view. Mrs. Wiggs rose to the occasion. "Boys," she said, and her voice had an inspiring ring, "I'll tell you what let's do! Let's give a benefit dance to-night, an' buy Chris Hazy a new peg-stick. Every feller that's willin' to help, hol' up his hand." A dozen grimy hands were waved on high, and offers of assistance came from all sides. Mrs.
Wiggs, critically surveying the children; "it won't button good on you, and swags in the back on Australia." "Lemme wear it, ma!" "No, lemme!" came in excited tones. Mrs. Wiggs had seen trouble before over the blue alpaca; she knew what anguish her decision must bring to one or the other.
Meanwhile in the Cabbage Patch Miss Hazy and Mrs. Wiggs were holding a consultation over the fence. "She come over to my house first," Mrs. Wiggs was saying, dramatically illustrating her remarks with two tin cans. "This is me here, an' I looks up an' seen the old lady standin' over there. She put me in mind of a graven image. She had on a sorter gray mournin', didn't she, Miss Hazy?"
Elvina de Wiggs, and God knows how many thousands of dollars it cost." "I suppose that wouldn't do," said the stranger. "Let us see if we can't find something to put there." He started up the aisle, and through the chancel.
Come here, child, and let me iron out yer plaits while the iron's good an' hot." This painful operation was performed only on state occasions; each little Wiggs laid her head on the ironing-board, a willing sacrifice on the altar of vanity, while Mrs. Wiggs carefully ironed out five plaits on each head.
Through the assistance of Asia Wiggs, Lovey Mary secured pleasant and profitable work at the factory; but her mind was not at peace. Of course it was a joy to wear the red dress and arrange her hair a different way each morning, but there was a queer, restless little feeling in her heart that spoiled even the satisfaction of looking like other girls and earning three dollars a week.
Paul, my boy, you have done a good thing, and shall be promoted. We must now make it a point to intercept old Wiggs." "Doubtless he has gone to the depot." "How far is that from here?" "Two miles." "When does the train pass?" questioned Dyke Darrel. "I cannot say." "Nor I." "Ask the farmer's wife." Paul sped from the room. "The New York express goes in ten minutes," said the boy, on his return.
Why, that one thought is enough to keep me from ever gittin' sorry fer myself." Mary laughed, and Mrs. Wiggs clapped her hands. "That's what yer face needs smiles! I never see anything make such a difference. But now about the dress. Yes, indeed, Asia has got dresses to give 'way. She gits 'em from Mrs. Reddin'; her husband is Mr. Bob, Billy's boss. He's a newspaper editress an' rich as cream.
Wiggs, enthusiastically. "I wish I could!" said Lucy, with such fervor that Mrs. Wiggs paused on her way to answer a knock at the outside door. There was a scraping of feet in the passage. "I have been driving all over the country looking for you," said a man's voice. "I have some Christmas traps for the kids." Lucy rose hastily, and turned just as Redding entered. "Mr.
Aminadab Wiggs takes an engagement as a clerk at a steamboat office on the Pongowonga River, but he goes to his employment with an inward conviction that six months will see him earning his bread elsewhere. Under such circumstances even a large wardrobe is a nuisance, and a collection of furniture would be as appropriate as a drove of elephants.
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