Margery, Happie and Laura washed and wiped the dishes, and Polly put them away, with Bob's help for the higher closet shelves. They worked so fast that only twenty of the thirty minutes were consumed by the task. They were rather excited by the coming of a caller of their own age. Their mother discouraged them from making acquaintances lightly. Living, as they did, in a neighborhood of low rents and crowded apartment-houses, she feared for them contact with young minds less carefully shielded from the knowledge of evil than their own, dreaded their possible contact with manners and morals such as she would not have had them imitate.
Happie's bright hair was curly and moist around her temples from the hasty dash of water which she had thrown over her face, and Margery was daintily drying her fingers one by one when the bell rang, so prompt was the new boy in keeping his appointment to the moment. Polly opened the door for him, and in he walked, hailed by a shout of laughter from Bob which brought the girls in at once, although Margery was conscious of lingering dampness around her little finger.
The new boy had made a label for himself of a box cover, and on it he had written his name, "Ralph Gordon," in very bold letters for all who ran to read. This improvement upon a visiting card he had hung around his neck, so that there could not be an instant's doubt as to whom the Scollards were entertaining.
"Now if you'd only stand by the dumb waiter whistles in the cellar with that thing on, we'd never be troubled with your groceries as we were to-day," said Bob, shaking hands with the arrival. "Wait a minute. You've set the example of labor-saving introductions; I'll follow it. Here, girls, draw up in line, oldest first, and so on. Now, this, Mr.—let's see, oh, yes! Mr. Ralph Gordon——" Bob pretended to be near-sighted, and to consult Ralph's card at short range. "This, Mr. Ralph Gordon, is my oldest and elder sister, Margery, christened Margaret. This is Keren-happuch, next younger than I. This is Laura, musical at twelve. This is pretty Polly, Polly-put-the-kettle on, my sensible, reliable sister of nine. Penny, you can't see because she is in bed. She's the baby, and we consider her a bright Penny, a fairly new one, for she's only four years old, and we wouldn't give her for a five dollar gold piece, as some people do bright new pennies. I am Robert, 'Robert toi qui j'aime'—you know the air? I have only to mention that the last named Scollard is the flower of the family, and my duty's done."
"Fully," commented Margery, with her gentle smile. "We would not say that he is not a flower, but the flower—well, that's another matter."
"Yes," said Ralph with a little look at Margery that held the value of a compliment.
"Quite another matter. He's not a violet, anyway, because that's a modest flower. But what did he call you?" he added turning to Happie.
Happie laughed. "Did you ever hear such a name?" she cried. "Keren-happuch. But they mercifully call me Happie. I was named after an old lady, a friend of mother's mother, and she was named after her grandmother. I think they might as well have stopped with her, and not gone on handing down such a fearful name!"
"Well, it is rather a heavy weight," admitted Ralph. "But Happie is enough to make up for it. I suppose it's a case of 'What's the odds as long as you're Happie.' It ought to be a kind of fairy godmother for whom you're named! Sounds like an old lady who was the only one of her pattern, and who showered gifts on mere mortals."
"Miss Keren-happuch Bradbury is the only one of her pattern; you're right there," Bob answered for Happie. "But she's not a fairy godmother. She's as eccentric as she can be, most interesting, and as independent as the Thirteen Colonies on July, 1776; rather mannish in her ways, but very thoroughly a gentlewoman. However, she's not rich, or we suppose she's not, so she can't play fairy godmother very well."