"But they DO stare," shuddered Marigold. "They're all looking at me to see how much I've grown since the last time or who I look like now. And Aunt Josephine will say I'm not as tall for my age as Gwennie. You know she will."
"It won't kill you if she does," said Grandmother.
"You must act like a lady," whispered Mother.
"Don't be a coward," said Old Grandmother from a faraway moonlit orchard.
It was Old Grandmother who did the trick. Marigold went through the ordeal of handshaking with her head up and her cheeks so crimson that even Aunt Josephine thought her complexion much better. The "big" dinner was in the orchard room, and any one looking at the table would have known that the good old days when nobody bothered about balanced rations had not yet wholly passed at Cloud of Spruce. But Marigold and all the other small fry had theirs in the dining-room.
Marigold rejoiced over this. She never really enjoyed a meal in the orchard room, because she was so busy hating Clementine. They were catered to by Salome, who saw that they all had plenty of dressing and a piece of banana cake besides pudding. Even Uncle Peter's Pete, who had been known to say he wished a fellow could eat two Christmas dinners at once, was satisfied. So everything was beautiful until dinner was over and the "programme" under way in the parlour. And then Marigold crashed down to defeat and not even Old Grandmother's shade could help her.
She got up to say her recitation - and not one word could she remember of it. She stood there before thousands - more or less - of faces, and could not even recall the title. It was all Uncle Peter's Pete's fault, so Marigold always vowed. Just before her name was called he had whispered into the back of her neck, "You haven't washed behind your ears." Marigold knew that territory HAD been washed - Salome had seen to that - but it rattled her nevertheless. And now she stood dazed, frantic, coming out with goose-flesh all over her body. If Mother had been there just to say the first line - Marigold knew she could go on if she could just remember the first line. But Mother was out helping with the dishes. And there was Pete grinning and Beulah gleefully contemptuous and Nancy squirming in sympathy.
Marigold shut her eyes in a desperate effort to forget every one and straightway saw the most astounding things. Aunt Emma's big cameo brooch with Uncle Ned's hair in it expanded to gigantic size, and Aunt Emma fastened to it - Uncle Jerry with a long nose pulled out like the elephant's child - Uncle Peter's Pete's aunt dancing drunkenly after dandelion wine - Aunt Katherine, a grey cat riding on a broomstick - Aunt Kitty falling headlong after her bonnet - Aunty Clo with her skin off - Uncle Obadiah, just a pair of enormous ears with a tiny manikin between them - Uncle Dan with just one huge eye winking at her all the time -
Dizzy Marigold opened her eyes to come back to reality from that fantastic world into which she had been plunged. But still she could not get that first line.
"Come, come, have you got a bone in your throat?" said Uncle Paul.
"Cat's got her tongue," giggled Uncle Peter's Pete.
"Bit off more than you can chew, eh," said Uncle Charlie, good- naturedly.
Beulah giggled. Flesh and blood could bear no more. Marigold rushed from the room - flew upstairs - tore through Mother's room - slammed shut her door and hurled herself on her bed in an agony of shame and humiliation.
She huddled there all the rest of the afternoon. Mother and Grandmother and Salome were too busy to think about her. Nancy searched but could not find her. Marigold wept in her pillows and wondered what they were saying about her. I don't know if it would have comforted her any had she known they were not thinking about her at all. What was a tragedy to her was only a passing incident to them.
In the rose and purple twilight they went away. Marigold lay and listened to the cars snorting and the sleighbells jingling and then to a tired little lonely motherless wind sobbing itself to sleep in the vines - a wind that had made a fool of itself in the great family of Winds and daren't lift its voice above a whisper.
To Marigold came some one who had never lost the knack of looking at the world through a child's eyes.
"Oh, Aunty Marigold, I've dis-dis-graced myself and - all - the Lesleys," sobbed Marigold.
"Oh, no, darling. There's no disgrace in a little stage fright. We all have it. The first time I tried to recite in public my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth and I snivelled - yes, snivelled, and my father had to come up and carry me down from the platform. You got away on your own legs at least."
Marigold could not stop crying all at once, but she sat up and blew her nose.
"Oh, Aunty Marigold - really?"
"Yes, really. Father said to me, 'I am disappointed in you,' and I said, 'I wouldn't care for that if I wasn't disappointed in myself.'"
"That's how I feel, too," whispered Marigold. "And then Beulah - "
"Never mind the Beulahs. You'll find heaps of them in life. The only thing to do is ignore them. Beulah would make an excellent mouse-trap, but if she tried for a hundred years she couldn't look as sweet and pretty as you did, standing up there with your puzzled blue eyes. And when you screwed them shut - "
"Oh, I saw such funny things, Aunt Marigold," cried Marigold, bursting into a peal of laughter. Aunt Marigold's little bit of artful flattery was a pick-me-up. It was true poor Beulah was very plain. Oh, how nice to be with some one who just understood and loved. Nothing seemed so disgraceful any more. A truce to vain regrets. She'd show them another time. And here was Lucifer and Salome with a plate of hop-and-go-fetch-its.
"I saved 'em for you," said Salome. "Uncle Peter's Pete was bound to have them but I Peted him. He'll not try to sneak into MY pantry again in a hurry."
"I suppose I can take off this absurd ribbon now," said Lucifer, his very whiskers vibrating with indignation. "A dog doesn't mind making an ass of himself, but a cat has his feelings."
CHAPTER X
The Bobbing of Marigold
1
"Sylvia has bobbed her hair," said Marigold rebelliously.
Grandmother sniffed, as Grandmother was apt to sniff at the mention of Sylvia - though since the day of Dr. Clows visit she had never referred to her, and the key of The Magic Door was always in the lock. But she only said,
"Well, YOU'RE not going to have yours bobbed, so you can make up your small mind to that. In after years you will thank me for it."
Marigold didn't look or feel very thankful just then. EVERYBODY had bobbed hair. Nancy and Beulah - who laughed at her long "tails" - and all the girls in school and even Mrs. Donkin's scared- looking little "home girl" across the road. But she, Marigold Lesley of Cloud of Spruce, had to be hopelessly old-fashioned because Grandmother so decreed. Mother would have been willing for the bob, though she might cry in secret about it. Mother had always been so proud of Marigold's silken fleece. But Grandmother! Marigold knew it was hopeless.
"I don't know if we should do it," said Grandmother - not alluding to bobbed hair. "She has never been left alone before. Suppose something should happen."
"Nothing ever happens here," said Marigold pessimistically and untruthfully. Things happened right along - int'resting things and beautiful things. But this was Marigold's blue day. She could not go with Grandmother and Mother and Salome to Great-Aunt Jean's golden wedding because Aunt Jean's grandchildren had measles. Marigold did so want to see a golden wedding.
"You can get what you like for supper," said Grandmother. "But remember you are not to touch the chocolate cake. That is for the missionary tea to-morrow. Nor cut any of my Killarney roses. I want them to decorate my table."