“We’ll plant all sorts of splendid things and the Smiling Lady will teach us to work miracles,” he said.
“She’ll give us loads of baby plants. She loves starting new gardens.” Pegeen was cheerful again now. He had said he would come back and it was easy for her to believe in happiness.
“To-morrow I’ll dig the beds,” promised Archibald. “Now tell me what the neighbors thought of your new finery.”
Pegeen was all excitement.
“They couldn’t believe it. They honestly couldn’t. Ginsy Shalloway’ll talk herself to death about them, and Mrs. Frisbie said that either you were cracked or just a natural spendthrift, and Mrs. Neal spoke right up and said you were a big-hearted young gentleman, that’s what you were; and I hugged her for it and they’re all crazy to know what you get paid for your pictures, and I said maybe you’d let me take you to see them only maybe not, because you had lots of painting to do and couldn’t let visiting interfere. So you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
“But I do want to, Peg. I’m going to garden and to neighbor. I’m credibly informed that there’s the road to being happy most of the time and contented all the time. I’m going to send to town for a horse of mine that’s eating his head off in the stables, and we’ll rent a cart, and then we can neighbor fast and furiously all up and down the Valley.”
“Oh, my stars!” crooned Pegeen, in ecstasy.
“Can you ride your horse?” she asked suddenly.
“That’s what he’s for, chiefly. Why?”
“Well, I just thought maybe you’d lend him to Miss Moran when you weren’t neighboring. She loves riding better than anything and she had a beautiful riding horse when she came, but he hurt himself jumping the pasture fence and died, and she couldn’t afford to get another. She’s the loveliest thing on horseback—but, do you know, she rides straddle just like a boy and she wears breeches and sometimes they show; folks here thought it was awful at first. They buzzed around to each other’s houses like a swarm of bees, talking about it, and they thought maybe Mr. Colby, the minister, ought to take it up. And he wouldn’t. He said she didn’t go to his church, and that anyway it wasn’t a thing for a single man to take up with a young lady. So then they thought the ladies’ aid would have to do something, but they sort of put it off, and then Mr. Frisbie went to Boston to spend a week with his rich brother that’s a minister in a big church there. He came back telling that the parks up there were simply full of ladies riding straddle and that his brother’s wife said all the richest and properest ladies wore breeches when they rode and that it was countrified to be shocked. So then everybody quieted down. Mrs. Neal says Ginsy Shalloway sent for a pattern for riding breeches, but I don’t believe she’s ever had a call for it.”