Poor, Dear Margaret KirbyNorris, Kathleen Thompson
General
Poor, Dear Margaret Kirby
Norris, Kathleen Thompson
American fiction -- 20th century; Short stories
"Kelley & Moffat ought to let me have materials at half price," she
reflected aloud. "My bill's two or three hundred a month!"
"You always say that you're not going to do a thing, and then get in
and make more than any other booth!" said Dan, proudly.
"Oh, not this year, I won't," his mother assured him. But in her heart
she knew she would.
"Aren't you glad it's fancy-work?" said Teresa. "It doesn't get all
sloppy and mussy like ice-cream, does it, mother?"
"Gee, don't you love fairs!" burst out Leo, rapturously.
"Sliding up and down the floor before the dance begins, Dan, to work in
the wax?" suggested Jimmy, in pleasant anticipation. "We go every day
and every night, don't we, mother?"
"Ask your father," said Mrs. Costello, discreetly.
But the Mayor's attention just then was taken by Alanna, who had left
her chair to go and whisper in his ear.
"Why, here's Alanna's heart broken!" said he, cheerfully, encircling
her little figure with a big arm.
Alanna shrank back suddenly against him, and put her wet cheek on his
shoulder.
"Now, whatever is it, darlin'?" wondered her mother, sympathetically,
but without concern. "You've not got a pain, have you, dear?"
"She wants to help the Children of Mary!" said her father, tenderly.
"She wants to do as much as Tessie does!"
"Oh, but, Dad, she CAN'T!" fretted Teresa. "She's not a Child of Mary!
She oughtn't to want to tag that way. Now all the other girls' sisters
will tag!"
"They haven't got sisters!" said Alanna, red-cheeked of a sudden.
"Why, Mary Alanna Costello, they have too! Jean has, and Stella has,
and Grace has her little cousins!" protested Teresa, triumphantly.
"Never mind, baby," said Mrs. Costello, hurriedly. "Mother'll find you
something to do. There now! How'd you like to have a raffle book on
something,--a chair or a piller? And you could get all the names
yourself, and keep the money in a little bag--"
"Oh, my! I wish I could!" said Jim, artfully. "Think of the last night,
when the drawing comes! You'll have the fun of looking up the winning
number in your book, and calling it out, in the hall."
"Would I, Dad?" said Alanna, softly, but with dawning interest.
"And then, from the pulpit, when the returns are all in," contributed
Dan, warmly, "Father Crowley will read out your name,--With Mrs. Frank
Costello's booth--raffle of sofa cushion, by Miss Alanna Costello,
twenty-six dollars and thirty-five cents!"
"Oo--would he, Dad?" said Alanna, won to smiles and dimples by this
charming prospect.
"Of course he would!" said her father. "Now go back to your seat,
Machree, and eat your dinner. When Mommer takes you and Tess to the
matinee to-morrow, ask her to bring you in to me first, and you and
I'll step over to Paul's, and pick out a table or a couch, or
something. Eh, Mommie?"
"And what do you say?" said that lady to Alanna, as the radiant little
girl went back to her chair.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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