Chapter XI · Mr Silver Thimble and Mr Emery Bag

“GRANDMA,” asked Mary Frances, the next afternoon, “may I have this little piece of white lawn?”

“May I have this little piece of lawn?”

“Why, certainly, dear,” said Grandma. “You are such a good child. I am sure I never saw a little girl who was so able to amuse herself.”

“My, I wish I could explain about my little friends,” thought Mary Frances, but she answered, “I don’t get very lonely when you are away, Nanny dear, because I keep busy; and when you are here, we have such fun together!”

“Heigho!” exclaimed Grandma, “I feel really young again!”

“Why, certainly, dear.”

“I wonder if I could give her lessons”

sang Mary Frances, rocking Angie in her arms.

“My, I’m glad I got that child to sleep before my sewing lesson,” she said.

“I hope she’ll be quiet all through the afternoon. Every once in a while I’ve had to take her over to Lottie’s to stay. I’ve put myself under ob-li-ga-tion to Lottie, and I’ll have to make something for one of her children―oh, I wonder if I could give her some sewing lessons, the way I did Eleanor cooking lessons.

“How I wish Eleanor were here! I do miss her so!

“Baby―baby, mine”

“I’ll tip-toe in to my lesson with this child in my arms, and put her carefully in the big rocking chair, so as to have her near if she cries. Of course, I’m only pretending she’s a tiny young thing―because I didn’t bring my baby infant doll with me, and this is only Angie. She’s really almost three years old; but my, she certainly does love to be ‛babied’―and I’d certainly get very lonesome if I didn’t do it―with Mother and Father so far away―and Billy in camp!”

The big tears rolled down

The big tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Come, Mary Frances,” she said. “I feel like shaking you. When you promised Father so faithfully to be a woman, and your Grandma is such a darling!―Suppose you read Mother’s last letter over:

Dear Little Big Mary Frances:

Only twenty times has Mother read over your sweet letter. It was so dear, and brave. I am much better than I was―thanks to such a loving family―and the lovely “aps-mos-spere” here, as you used to say when you were little.

What a beautiful country this is―your “Fatherland” and mine. I want you to see some day the lovely view I am now looking upon: mountains rising high and peeping over this lovely stretch of country to look into the Pacific Ocean, which sparkles like that ir-i-des-cent feather in your dear Grandma’s bonnet.

Read Mother’s last letter

Father is calling me to come for a ride, and I must drop a line to my Billy Boy―who is a good Scout, too.

Can you feel this kiss and this hug? I know you can―for what are miles to us whose love for each other flies through space?

Your loving Mother.

P. S.―Thank you so much for the picture of Jubey.

With Angie asleep in her arms

“My, I feel better,” said Mary Frances, drying her tears. “But if it weren’t for my sewing lessons, even with Grandma’s help, I’d not be a Scout. Billy is a good Scout:―but now,―for the lesson,” and she went to the sewing-room very softly, with Angie asleep in her arms.

“Hee-ha!” she heard through the door, which was a very tiny way open, “that’s the time!”

She thought it was the voice of Silver Thimble.

“I don’t care,” answered a new voice. “It’s too much, to have to clean them all at once.”

“Oh, there are only two more. Come, I’m ready―it is really excellent practice for a soldier!”

“It is really excellent practice”

“Take ’em out, take ’em out, I say!”

“No in-sub- or-din- a-tion!”

Mary Frances feared to make a noise―but she quietly pushed the door open a little wider and saw Silver Thimble on one side of the table, and over on the opposite side, the queerest little fellow.

“Looks like the picture of a porcupine,” thought Mary Frances.

“It may be good practice for a soldier,” groaned the queer little figure, “but pity the target! Besides,―one at a time, please!”

“Emery Bag, what do you think you were made for? I hope you realize it’s your duty to clean all the rust and roughness off these needles as I run them through you, so that the little Miss may sew more easily,” lectured Thimble. “No in-sub-or-din-a-tion! Stop and think! You know my family’s power,―you know my family’s wealth. You realize, I hope, you live in a land named for my aris-to-crat-ic ancestors―Thimble Land!”

“Oh, ancestors go-to-China!” exclaimed Emery Bag. “We live in the present, and I demand―I demand justice. I leave it to anybody if it’s fair to have twenty needles stuck into your heart at once!”

“Take ’em out, I say!”

“The idea of being such a coward!” retorted Thimble. “Where’s your heart of steel you brag of so often?”

“Fatty!”

“It’s scarcely fair, you know,” came a new voice. “You see, twenty needles at once are really more than are needed.”

“Humph, Tommy Pin Cushion,” answered Silver Thimble. “What you sticking your ’pinion in for? It’s a wonder Sewing Bird hasn’t stuck her bill in! Tommy Pin Cushion, you might just as well keep out of this―everybody knows you’re stuck on yourself―Fatty!”

“You conceited old Silver Thimble,” came the voice of Pin Cushion. “You will please address me by my full name―‘Tomato-Pin-Cushion, Custodian-of-the-Sword-Needles’;―and what’s more, if you don’t quickly remove all those needles from poor Emery, you won’t get any more sword-needles to wield. So there! You know Sewing Bird’s taking forty winks; that’s why you don’t act in your best military manner.”

Silver Thimble looked toward Sewing Bird, whose eyes began to open, and quickly went toward Emery Bag. Taking out the needles, one at a time, he ran to Pin Cushion and quilted each into its place.

“You conceited old Silver Thimble.”

“There!” he exclaimed at length, “I’m certainly glad I’ve ‘stacked all my arms’―my, I’m tired!” As he leaned back to yawn, off fell his helmet and he melted away.

“Serves him right,” murmured Emery Bag; “I hope Fairy Lady won’t ask him to the sewing party to-day,―she really arranges all these lessons.”

sang Sewing Bird.

“Good!” thought Mary Frances. “Now, I’ll go in.”

“My, I’m glad I got that child to sleep”