It wouldn't be this era without at least one story about a person suffering from overwork who cannot survive unless they are brought to some country place for fresh air. As in a fairy tale, it's the impractical yet domestic sister who saves them all."Helen came home with headache again to-day." Margaret spoke as if the fact needed no comment, and Marion frowned darkly, saying, "I 'm not surprised. I met Dr. Graham on the street this morning, and he said she must have a change, that he would n't answer for the consequences if she did n't."
"Mercy me, Marion Darling, as if we did n't all need change and plenty of it. That 's a joke, ha-ha, and I am not in a joking humor, either."
"Do you know what it means, Peggy? Our late lamented legacy must furnish us a home till Helen gets well. I ve been thinking it over, and I have made up my mind."
"Enough said. No use in wasting my feeble efforts in unmaking it. When do we start?"
Marion laughed in spite of herself. "Seriously, I mean it."
"So I judged. Would you mind imparting a few details so I coidd get some packing done before the move-wagon arrives?"
"Not at all. I got off from work to-day and went out there."
A slice of toast fell flatly into the coals and was rapidly consumed as its maker turned an astonished face to her sister. "You 've been where? Not to Idle-wild!"
"The same, ma'am. Our late lamented legacy, above mentioned." And Marion drew her merry face into solemn lines, though her eyes twinkled.
"If you don't upset a person's equanimity with your suddenness, I don't know who does—there 's a whole slab of supper gone up in smoke! Tell me all about it this minute," said Margaret, slicing bread vigorously.
"Eight rooms besides a kitchen," complied Marion. "They 're all furnished in the simplest country fashion, big and airy, and we never in these United States can afford to warm them. But then we would n't need to. And there 's a piece of ground for a garden next summer."
"In the meantime we can hibernate. Was that your idea?"
"No, we are n't fat enough. We 'll have to eat more or less, so I got the promise of the country school. Just in the nick of time I was, too. The teacher they had, decided to get married."
"How considerate!"
"Was n't it? They don't pay much of anything, but every little helps, and Helen will be sure to get some music scholars. If only your accomplishments had a marketable value. Peggy."
"Which, alas, they have n't! Call Helen, will you? She '11 feel better for her cup of tea."
"You re a gorgeous cook, anyway, and a model housekeeper. That 's something," and Marion paused to hug her sister.
Peggy hesitated, then laughed and said: "I have a scheme, too, Miss Darling, which if—I mean when it succeeds, will cast district-school teaching into the background, to say nothing of music-lessons, et cetera. It 's chickens!"
"Peg Darling, you don't know a game-cock from a bantam. The idea!" Marion sniffed scornfully, but Margaret continued to smile.
"That 's all right. I 'm not too old to learn. We 'll buy a small incubator, and fill it right away with good eggs—some kind that grow big very fast. Buff cochins, I think they are, and in the early spring, when frying chickens are worth their weight in gold, we 'll have em by the dozen. See if we don't!"
"Peggy, you 've been cramming on the sly."
"I know it, Marion. I 've studied till I know every detail of poultry raising, and I 'm not afraid to invest our last penny in getting started. Go get Helen. Supper will be ruined."
One month before, Idle-wild had been bestowed upon the three sisters by the will of a distant relative. Marion had already come to refer to it exclusively as their "late lamented legacy," because, in the first flush of joy over the possession of a homestead, they had built wonderful air-castles which had promptly tumbled about their ears when Idle-wild proved to be in no way available as a money-maker. Situated on a remote country road, its only near neighbors one Obed-Edom Green and Clarinda, his wife, its possibilities for income limited to a "truck" garden, with nobody to buy the truck, it had seemed to its new possessors only an increased care and responsibility.
But Helen's imperative need for a release from her duties as stenographer in a busy office put a new aspect on affairs, and, once recognizing it as the thing to do, the sisters made their move cheerfully. Marion exchanged her work as bookkeeper with a big lumber firm for the untried duties of a country schoolma'am, while Helen consented, after a talk with Dr. Graham, to build her hopes on possible music pupils and a chance to rest and recuperate between-whiles. Nobody ever expected anything of Peggy except her domestic duties, and her sisters had been content to leave their home-making in her capable hands.
Even now, when Peggy was n't around, they laughed good-naturedly at her new and enthusiastic venture in chickens. "We can't afford it, a bit in the world," they confessed to each other; "and of course she 'll make a fizzle. And it 's the first thing she 's ever asked for outside of real necessities, and we could n't say she should n't have it. We 'll skimp a little harder to make up."
But in the face of their reduced income, this was not easy to do. As fall came on, they shut up all the big cold rooms of their new home except the three opening out of the kitchen, and here they lived, very simply and economically. For the music scholars did not materialize, and it was too soon to expect returns from the chickens, as Peggy often reminded them. Much too soon, her sisters thought. The first setting of buff cochin eggs were roasted by their over-zealous tender. The second setting bade fair to reach the other extreme and freeze, though six chicks of hardier strain than their brethren managed to hatch. Of these, four faded and died before their owner's anxious eyes. Peggy's ardor was dampened but not quenched. "Let me try once more," she begged. "I 'll do without a new sealskin sack this winter, and won't even insist on a sable muff, if you 'll give me just one more chance. You know I 've had experience, now!"
Of course she got the eggs, though her sisters eyed each other doubtfully as they counted what was left in the flat pocketbook. But four weeks later, the incubator was sent up garret, and its unhatched eggs were given mournful burial in the potato lot.
"I 've got Jack and Jill, anyway." Peggy was determined to be cheerful whatever befell. "I 'm sure they 're doing lovely; and maybe Jill will prove to be such a famous layer that we won't lose so much on our investment, after all. You understand, girls, it is only postponed—I shall make a success out of this chicken deal yet."
The winter was long and rather dreary with its unaccustomed quiet and its unwonted leisure. "If it were not for Jack and Jill, I 'd be tempted to be homesick," Peggy confessed one day. "But I 'm so proud of them, I can't feel my life an utter failure." They were beauties—no one would have denied it—and they grew as fast and as fine as chickens ever did. They passed the frying age quite safely, no one even suggesting that the end and aim of their being had been reached. Peggy tended them faithfully, lavishing food and drink upon them, protecting them from cold and storm, and finding ample reward in their growth and development.
In March, Helen's headaches threatened to return. "It 's nothing serious," declared the sufferer to Marion. "I guess I 'm a little worried, and that hurts my head."
"Worried about what, dear?" asked Marion, anxiously.
"I don't see how we can live even here without any income, and your school will close soon. I must get something to do."
"You can't and sha'n't, dear. Even if I have to go back to the city and earn our living, you and Peggy can stay here."
"And leave you alone in the heat and dust and misery? Never!"
"But, Helen, I 'm not ill—I don't need country air, and you do. Somebody must shoulder the responsibility—you are not able, and Peggy does n't know how. We might as well turn to a butterfly for advice as to Peggy, where business is concerned."
"I know—bless her heart. We 'll just have to take care of her, Marion, and let her revel in her pots and pans. I simply must help! Could n't we garden?"
"Honey, you know we could n't. We 'd only waste the money we invested in seed. I 'll apply to Dill and James this week, and ask for my old job in the office—maybe they 'll take me and maybe they won't; but somebody 'll have to."
Peggy entered the room just then and eyed her pale sister with critical inspection. "Helen needs a spring tonic," she announced. "I '11 write Dr. Graham and ask him to send her one." And, being an extremely prompt young lady, this resolve was acted upon without delay.
The answer came quickly. Peggy herself took it from the post-office and read it as she strolled homeward through the early April sunshine. But Peggy had n*t read two lines before she forgot that weather conditions existed. "My Dear Miss Margaret," wrote Dr. Graham. "My good friend Dr. Salisbury is passing your neighborhood on the sixth, and, at my request, will drop off the train and take a look at Miss Helen. This will be much more satisfactory than a prescription given at random from this distance."
"Dr. Salisbury!" Peggy stopped still and stared. "If it were the governor or the President, it would n't matter, but Dr. Salisbury is the richest, awfulest, most renowned doctor in the university! And we 've got one peck of potatoes, a box of evaporated apples, two pounds of bacon, and twenty-five cents in cash to last till Marion's pay-day on the fifteenth. And, incidentally, only one pay-day after that before school closes." The girl drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "No, Peggy, you sha'n't saddle your woes onto anybody else! You got us in the scrape—it 's up to you to get us out."
For fully five minutes, Margaret Darling wore a very dejected countenance, which, being a most unusual occurrence, is worthy of note. It cleared suddenly as its owner clapped her hands and laughed aloud. (One might behave as one chose on a lonely back lane in the country.) "It 's worth the effort," she declared. "Faint heart never won anything worth while. Who knows? Why, I should n't wonder a bit." After which enigmatical sentence, silence reigned again, though smiles and nods were not wanting.
It was a very composed young lady who announced quite casually to her sisters at home the coming of their distinguished guest. "But, Peg!" gasped Marion. "He '11 have to be here from eleven till three, and we 'll be obliged to give him something to eat."
"Certainly," assented Margaret, with dignity.
"But what will it be? Never bacon and potatoes—oh, never that, Peggy!" was Helen's distressed wail.
"Leave that to me," with a lofty wave of the hand. "I believe I am cook, my dears. Please don't bother with needless questions."
"She "s worried as much as we are," the others decided. "It 's like her to hide it from us. Well—she 'll get along best by herself. Neither of us is any good at making a feast out of a famine. Peggy can come as near doing it as any one, so we '11 just have to let her alone. But how will she ever manage it!"
Peggy showed them. She greeted the august Dr. Salisbury over a table that gave most attractive promise—and then fulfilled it. Clear soup first, delicious and hot; then roast fowl with most delectable dressing and gravy; hominy, white and steaming: stuffed potatoes creamy and light; salad, garnished with blocks of quivering, transparent jelly; and hot biscuit. The dessert was as good as the rest—cup-shaped molds of something, served with sugar and cream, and coffee such as nobody but Peggy could make.
Dr. Salisbury? Truly he enjoyed the savory repast, if one could judge from appearances, and as he ate, he talked as pleasantly and simply as if no glamour of fame enveloped him.
Peggy accompanied him back to the train, and it was nearly dark when she returned.
"Come here, you gipsy, and own up! How, what, and when?" demanded Marion.
"Of course we recognized the chicken, but you did n't go in debt! Did you, Peggy?"
"Just as if!" Peggy cast a withering glance at the questioner. "It was principally Jack and Jill girls. I always knew those fowls lived for some good purpose, and now they 've proved it. Helen, it 's worth all the buff cochins that did n't hatch to know there is n't a thing the matter with you that country spring and summer won't cure. Doctor says that out of doors is all the tonic you need." Peggy talked very fast, and fanned herself as if it were July.
"Jack was the soup and the salad and the jelly. Was n't the garnish pretty? Not a thing but Jack's bones, boiled and strained, flavored with spearmint leaves and cooled. Did n't you know they 'd do it? How did you suppose jellied chicken was made?
"Then I melted some of the beautiful yellow fat—our butter-crock is nearly empty, you know, —and seasoned the stuffed potatoes with it, and used it instead of oil for the salad dressing. Was n't it good? and strictly original."
"Undeniably both," Marion solemnly affirmed. "And you are a wonder!"
"Did n't Jill look handsome, roasted all brown and crispy? I was so proud of her. And there s enough left to last us two days."
"Tell about the dessert. I 'm consumed with curiosity," said Helen.
"Not a thing only the wheat we bought for the chickens, which they won't need now, poor dears! I cleaned it carefully, ground it in the coffee-mill, and cooked it slowly all day yesterday, with plenty of water and a little salt. Last night, I poured it in the cups to set, and there you are.
"I 've eaten cracked wheat, but never any so delicious as that!"
"It was rather good. I read how to do it in my poultry journal—a paper that fairly bristles with wisdom."
"And your banquet cost—"
"Five cents, cash outlay. The biscuits were an extravagance, but we can make up for it somehow. The cream I got from Mrs. Clarinda—traded a dish of salad for it. Jack was a regular mine of goodies, girls. He and Jill were n't such bad investments."
"I should think not, you dear!" began Helen, but Peggy interrupted.
"Wait—you don't know the rest," she declared. "Dr. Salisbury's family is coming to board for the summer—been looking for just such a place, he says. He engaged the whole up-stairs, and I 'm going to give his daughter lessons in domestic science, if you please (in our language it is cooking), at one dollar per. That ought to help some."
"Summer boarders!" exclaimed Marion. "Why did n't we think of that before?"
"We did, but we had n't seen our way clear to getting them," declared Peggy. "It came over me in a flash that maybe Dr. Salisbury was our chance, either for his own people or some of his patients. So I did my best to show him I could cook; and he appreciated it, I judge. I don't believe he ever suspected—men are so ignorant—that nearly every morsel on the table was either chicken or chicken-feed! He said he wished his family could see how real country things tasted, and the minute I mentioned summer board, he snapped me up."
"Well, of all things!" said Helen, while Marion asked meekly: "Any other disclosures?"
Peggy laughed. "I stopped on my way home at Mr. Green's. Obed-Edom 's going to put in our garden and tend it for the use of our barn. Mrs. Clarinda and I arc to raise poultry on shares. I furnish the incubator, she the eggs, and we divide the product. Incidentally, she 'll run the hatching machine and guard the young chicks from the depreciations of well-meaning but ignorant individuals. It looks to me as if we 'd arranged things for the summer, girls."
"It 's generous of you to say 'we.'" Helen's voice was humble. "Marion and I thought you could n't be counted on to help make practical plans, and here you 've gone and done it every bit alone! We 'll show our appreciation by our deeds, Peggy, love, and work like Trojans for our summer boarders."
"I promised you we 'd make it pay—our chicken deal—and so we will!" said Peggy, happily.
And so thev did.
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