“Lucy Haines’. She’s had–that is, she isn’t going to have some of the money she was counting on for next year,” Peggy flattered herself that this discreet statement gave no hint of the heartache and humiliation poor Lucy had undergone. “And even if we didn’t make very much, a little would help her out.”
“But, Peggy, what could we do?” cried Amy, setting down her glass of milk with an emphasis that sent part of its contents splashing over the brim. “None of us sing any to speak of, except Priscilla, and she and Claire are the only ones who play. I don’t see–”
“Well, I’ve been wondering why we couldn’t repeat that little farce we gave at school last June. It wouldn’t be much work, for we all know our parts. Beside ours, there was only one that amounted to anything. I thought maybe Claire would take that. The other characters have so little to do that we could easily pick up girls for the parts. Lucy herself might take one.”
“And Rosetta Muriel,” suggested Amy, rather maliciously. It was so seldom Peggy really disliked anybody that the temptation to make frequent mention of their pretentious neighbor was too much for Amy’s fun-loving disposition. Unconsciously Peggy’s face assumed an expression suggestive of just having swallowed a dose of quinine. “I suppose so,” she agreed grudgingly, and Amy indulged in a wicked chuckle.
“But where could we give it, Peggy?” Ruth asked with animation. It was easy to see that the suggestion had made a most favorable impression on the company. The little comedy had been given during commencement week and had proved the most popular feature of that festive period. The performers had not had time to forget their parts, and a very few rehearsals would be sufficient to assure a smooth presentation. Peggy, delighted with the friendly reception accorded her plan, continued her explanation.
“Why, I think they’ll let us have it in the schoolhouse. It’s just standing empty all summer. I’ll have to see Mr. Robbins about that, Mr. Silas Robbins. He’s the committee man who hires teachers, and everything of that sort. And, of course, Lucy ought to know what we are planning before we do anything further. It won’t be necessary to have her name put in the paper, or anything like that, but I’m sure the people will be more interested if they know it is a benefit for one of their own girls.”
Lucy Haines, on learning the latest of Peggy’s schemes for her advantage seemed rather overwhelmed. As a matter of fact, she exaggerated the generosity of the girls who had so cordially endorsed Peggy’s plan. The summer days were all very delightful, but the presentation of the little play promised that agreeable variety without which all pleasures pall. Indeed, Lucy’s expression of gratitude, fervent if not fluent, rendered Priscilla really uncomfortable.
“I wish you’d make her understand, Peggy,” she said, “that though we’re awfully glad to help her, we’re not a collection of philanthropists. I’m afraid she doesn’t understand that this play is going to be lots of fun.”
Other misunderstandings had to be cleared up before everything was running smoothly. When Peggy called on Mr. Silas Robbins, and stated her errand, that excellent man failed to grasp her explanation, and took her for the manager of a theatrical troupe.
“You don’t mean that you’re running a show at your age! I call it a shame. You don’t look a day older than my Ettie. Haven’t you got a home and folks, child, or what is it that’s druv you into this dog’s life?”