But when this condition had been fulfilled, Madget presented an unexpected obstacle to their departure. She had her ice-cream in her hiding place, and spilled a great deal of it down the front of her dress. By some unique manipulation of her spoon she had managed to smear her hair with it also. It was not because of these casualties that she refused to make a second public appearance, however. She merely preferred not to see the light of day again, having successfully sought sanctuary from an intimidating multitude. Finally, Elizabeth picked her up, and bore her kicking and screaming from the hall, Woodrow Wilson, under the protection of his flag, looking down at her with some criticism implied in his glance, and the unfriendly crowd of Madget's imagination seemed to be boring a hole in her back with its composite gaze.
"It was a relief to get Moses out without his trousers falling off," Peggy declared. "Mabel's apron was entirely undone, and her hair came down."
"Think how well their shoes and stockings looked," Elizabeth said, philosophically. "I'm glad we gave them a treat, but I think I should have lived ten years longer if the bean supper hadn't occurred. Madget's got an awfully shrill voice."
"I can hear her yet," Peggy laughed, "'I won't come out. I won't go home. I won't stay here. I won't be good.' Honestly, Elspeth, it was screamingly funny if we wanted to look at it that way."
"But we didn't do it to be funny," Elizabeth wailed. "We did it to be kind. Did you ever stop to think, Peggy, how different things are in real life from the way they are in books? In a book it would have come out that the children's clothes were a great success, and the children had a lovely time, and the two young heroines were greatly admired for their philanthropy. Or if it had been a funny book, the children would have said funny things that you could have enjoyed. In real life, you just get tired and hot, and things seem flat and stupid."
They were walking home as they talked, with the three children solemnly herded in front of them. The arch of maple trees that shaded the main street of the town swayed softly in the breeze. The birds were still busy calling to each other.
"I don't know that life is so much different from books," Peggy said. "It sometimes seems to me much more beautiful. You can't see the colour of the trees in a book. Walking down Main Street doesn't mean a thing if you read about it, but when you are doing it, you can smell the flowers and hear the birds sing and see the trees waving in the breeze."
"I hear the wind among the trees Playing celestial symphonies. I see their branches downward bent, Like keys of some great instrument,"
Elizabeth quoted. "They do look a little like a great harp, don't they?"
"I can't say that they do," Peggy returned, candidly, "but they sound like one. You know a lot of poetry, don't you, Elizabeth?"