AS THE MORNING BELL SOUNDED its harsh clang! clang! clang! Plum jumped out of bed and ran to the window to see what kind of a day it was. Pushing aside a branch of the maple, whose limp, shining leaves looked as if they had been cut out of green oilcloth, she saw that the valley was wrapped in a mist as thick and white as a caterpillar’s cocoon. A mist that hid all of the barn but its roof, all of the orchard but a few upper branches, and made the familiar early morning sounds of chuffing mail train, mooing cows, cackling hens, peeping birds and crowing roosters, muffled and choky like Miss Gronk clearing her throat.
Plum looked all around, breathed in deep breaths of the cool, damp air and waited for the sun. When it came up finally, round and orange and thinly coated with white, Plum thought it looked like a giant poached egg but she knew it would clear the mist and make another beautiful day.
She turned and called to Nancy, “Hey, Nancy, get up. The sun’s up and it’s going to be a beauty day.”
Nancy rolled over, burrowed her head in the pillow and said nothing.
Plum said, “Oh, look, here’s our robin to say good morning. Good morning, Robbie Robin. My, you’re getting fat. Mrs. Monday’s bread pudding must agree with you.”
Turning again toward Nancy, Plum said, “Today’s the first of June. It’s summer and next Friday’s the program and the school picnic. Come on, Nancy, get up. It’s our turn to set the breakfast table and we’d better be prompt or Mrs. Monday will keep us home from the picnic.”
Nancy said, “I don’t want to get up. I never want to get up again.”
Plum said, “What’s the matter. Are you sick?”
Nancy said, “No, I’m not sick but I hate everything.” Her voice was muffled by the pillow but she sounded as if she might be crying.
Plum peered at her anxiously. “Nancy,” she said, “are you sure you aren’t sick?”
Nancy lifted her head and she was crying. She said, “Oh, Plum, what will I do? Miss Waverly wants me to sing a solo on the program for the last day of school and I can’t get up before the whole school in my fadey short old school dress and my worn-out shoes. I’ll look just hideous. All long, thin legs, like a stork with red hair.”
Plum said, “Maybe you could borrow one of Eunice’s dresses.”
Nancy said, “Her clothes are as bad as mine and anyway I’m taller than she is now.”
Plum said, “My clothes are awfully short too and my shoes have such big holes I’m afraid my feet will wear out but of course I’m only going to be in that old spelling match.”
Nancy said, “I’ll just die if I have to stand on the platform in that awful blue middy dress. It’s been two years since I had a new school dress and even then it wasn’t new, it was a hand-me-down of Marybelle’s.”
Plum said, “I know, I’ll write to Uncle John.”
Nancy said, “What good will that do? He never answered any of our other letters.”
Plum said, “Maybe he never got ’em. Maybe Mrs. Monday never mailed them.”
Nancy said, “Well, how can you be sure he’ll get this one?”
Plum said, “You write the letter. Tell Uncle John about school and how you have to have a new dress and right after breakfast I’ll sneak out and mail it.”
Nancy said, “How will you get out? It’s Saturday and you know Mrs. Monday keeps all the gates locked and you can’t climb over that spiked fence. I wish it was Library Day.”
Plum said, “I’ll go under the fence.”
Nancy said, “Jimmy tried to dig a hole under the fence and he said it is all cement.”
Plum said, “I wish I had some firecrackers, I’d take out all the powder and blast my way out.”
Nancy said, “Have you ever looked to see if the fence is broken any place?”
Plum said, “I haven’t but the other kids have, lots of times.”
Nancy said, “Uncle John must be paying for us or Mrs. Monday wouldn’t keep us here. Maybe Uncle does send us clothes and Mrs. Monday never gives them to us.”
Plum said, “You’d better get up or we’ll be late setting the table and you know how anxious Mrs. Monday is to find an excuse to keep us home from the picnic.”
Nancy said, “If you’ll set my share of the table I’ll stay up here and write the letter.”
Plum said, “All right, but you better hurry. We have to braid our hair, remember.”
Nancy ran into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face and jerked on her play clothes. She and Plum combed and braided each other’s hair and then Plum ran downstairs to set the table.
Nancy sat down at their study table, got out her school tablet, found a clean page, wet her pencil with her tongue so that the writing would be nice and black like ink and began:
Dear Uncle John:
Plum and I are very well and we hope you are too. We don’t like to bother you but we are going to be in a program at school, I am going to sing a solo and Plum is going to be in a spelling match—she is the best speller in school although only in the fifth grade—and our school clothes are all worn out and much too short and we wonder if you would ask Mrs. Monday to buy us something new to wear. Just nice school dresses and new shoes. Remember I have red hair and can’t wear pink and Plum looks terrible in green. Please have Mrs. Monday get the dresses long enough and we would both like full skirts. I have written to you several times but I guess you have been too busy to answer.
Your loving niece,
Nancy Remson
Nancy addressed the letter to Mr. John Remson, Croquet Club, Central City, and put it down inside her blouse. She was in her place at the dining-room table before Mrs. Monday and Marybelle emerged from their suite.
As they bowed their heads for grace, Nancy showed Plum a corner of the letter. While they were eating their oatmeal, she asked, “Do you have any good ideas?”
Plum said, “Yes, I’m going to tie the letter around a big rock and I’m going to stand by the gate and throw it into a car that is driving past.”
Nancy said, “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea. The rock will break the windshield and hit the driver in the head and he’ll run off the road and bang into the fence and we’ll escape through the hole in the fence.”
They both laughed and Plum was glad because she knew then that Nancy felt better.
Nancy said, “You could give the letter to Old Tom to mail.”
Plum said, “I wouldn’t dare. He’s our friend and he is nice to us but he’s afraid of Mrs. Monday and he does just what she tells him to. I wish we had a pigeon.”
“What for?” Nancy asked.
“To be a carrier pigeon,” Plum said. “You know how they send messages tied to pigeons’ legs.”
“Well, we don’t have a pigeon,” Nancy said, “so we’ll have to think of some other plan. Oh, we just have to mail that letter, Plum. We can’t go to the school program looking like scarecrows.”
Plum said, “I have to help Tom clean out the chicken house this morning, but you give me the letter and maybe I’ll think of something.”
After breakfast, Nancy was just about to hand Plum the letter when Marybelle came sauntering up.
She said, “What are you two whispering about?”
Plum said, “We were talking about the program next Friday. Nancy’s going to sing a solo.”
Marybelle said, “I’m going to recite Hiawatha.”
Plum said, “What, all of it?”
Nancy said, “Aren’t you scared?”
Marybelle said, “Heavens, no! I’ve taken elocution lessons for years and years. Are you scared?”
Nancy said, “Yes I am, but I usually get over it after I start to sing.”
“And all the people start to laugh,” Marybelle said.
Plum said, “Nobody ever laughs at Nancy. She has a beautiful voice. Miss Waverly said so.”
Marybelle said, “Who said anything about her voice. I’m talking about the way she looks. Her skirts are so short she looks like she’s on stilts.”
Plum said, “Well, that’s better than looking like a dishmop and sounding like Donald Duck like you do.”
Nancy said, “Please, Plum, let’s do our work.”
Marybelle said, “Please, Plum, let’s do our work. Please, Plum, let’s do our work.”
Nancy said, “Come on, Plum, please. You know Marybelle is just trying to make trouble.” She grabbed Plum’s arm and tried to pull her through the swinging door to the pantry.
Plum said, “All right, but just wait till the program is over.”
Marybelle stuck out her tongue and Plum made such a terrible face at her that even Nancy shivered. Then, her blue eyes blazing, Plum said, “When the program and the school picnic are over I’m going to pound Marybelle Whistle to jelly, and I don’t care what Mrs. Monday does to me.”
Nancy said, “And I’ll help you but now please go out and get to work. You know Mrs. Monday will be here in a minute.”
It was several hours later while Plum was watching the chickens scratching around in their fresh straw and flying up to their clean roosts that she had her idea. Why not a chicken for a carrier pigeon? She’d attach the letter to its wing and throw it over the fence. It might fly over to another farm and another farmer might notice it and pick it up and might find the letter and might mail it.
It was a wonderful idea, Plum thought, so while Tom was working in the barn, she sneaked up on, and caught, one of the fat red hens. Carefully she tied the letter to its wing, then carried it out in back by the vegetable garden and threw it over the fence. With a terrified squawk the chicken flapped its wings and sailed to the ground. But instead of being glad of its freedom and flying away, as Plum had planned, it rushed over and began running along the fence trying to find a hole to squeeze through. Plum ran ahead of it and tried to shoo it away from the fence but the chicken paid no attention to her.
“Squawk, squawk, squawk,” she croaked, running hysterically along the fence around the garden.
“Oh, you dummy,” Plum moaned. “Go that way! Out toward the road.”
But the hen ignored her and continued to poke her head between the pickets, jerk it out, run back farther and try again. When the lunch gong sounded she was still back by the orchard.
Plum told Nancy about the chicken at lunch and Nancy laughed so hard she choked on her potato soup and Mrs. Monday rapped on her glass for silence.
After lunch, when they were scrubbing off the front porch and steps, Plum sneaked out in back to see how her carrier pigeon was doing. She couldn’t find it. She walked the fence around the whole place but the chicken was gone. “Old Tom probably found it and put it back,” Nancy said.
Plum said, “Well, in that case the letter is as good as burned, so I’m going right in now and ask Mrs. Monday to buy us new dresses for that program. I’ll tell her it really doesn’t matter so much about me because nobody cares how good spellers are dressed but singers have to look nice.”
Nancy said, “I’ll go with you.”
Plum said, “No, because she might get mad and make me stay home and you just can’t stay home, it would spoil the whole program.”
Nancy said, “If I don’t have a new dress I want to stay home.” So they went in together and rapped on Mrs. Monday’s sitting-room door.
Marybelle opened the door and said, “What do you two want?”
Plum said, “We want to see Mrs. Monday.”
Marybelle said, “Well, she doesn’t want to see you,” and slammed the door.
Plum knocked again very loudly. There was no answer. She knocked again much louder and heard Mrs. Monday say, “Marybelle, for mercy’s sake, answer the door.”
Marybelle opened the door a tiny crack and Plum pushed past her and into the room. Nancy followed. Mrs. Monday, who was sitting by the window doing needlepoint, looked up at Plum and Nancy and said, “Well?”
Plum said, “Mrs. Monday, Nancy is going to sing a solo in the program at school and she just has to have a new dress. Her old school dress is so short she looks like a stork and her shoes are all worn out.”
Mrs. Monday said, “I see no point in getting new school clothes at the end of the year. They’ll be outgrown by the beginning of the fall term.”
Plum said, “Mrs. Monday, Marybelle told us today that everyone will laugh at Nancy when she gets up to sing and she said that it wouldn’t be because of her singing but because of her terrible old short school dress and worn-out shoes.”
Mrs. Monday, eyes on her needlepoint, said, “I repeat that I see no point in purchasing new clothes at the end of the school year. If Nancy wishes to show off her singing ability that is her problem, not mine.”
Plum said, “Mrs. Monday, would you want Marybelle to wear a short, worn-out dress to recite Hiawatha?”
Mrs. Monday said, “What Marybelle does or wears has nothing to do with you and Nancy. Marybelle has parents who are well able to provide for her.”
Plum said, “But we have Uncle John.”
Nancy said, “And I wrote to him today.”
Mrs. Monday said, “Where is the letter?”
Nancy said, “I mailed it.”
Mrs. Monday said, “And how, may I ask?”
Nancy said, “I won’t tell you.”
Mrs. Monday said, “Either you tell me, Nancy, or you and Plum will not go to the program or the picnic.”
Nancy said, “I won’t tell you. I won’t! I won’t! I won’t! You’re cruel and horrible and I hate you and we will go to the program.” She burst into tears and ran out of the room slamming the door behind her.
Mrs. Monday turned to Plum and said, “Well, that settles that unless, of course, Pamela, you care to tell me how Nancy mailed her letter.”
Plum said, “I won’t tell you, Mrs. Monday. And no matter what you say or do, Nancy and I will go to the program and the picnic.”
Mrs. Monday picked up her needlepoint, carefully inserted the needle, pulled it through to the back and said, “We shall see, Pamela. Now go to your room.”
Plum turned and started across the room. Just as she got to the door, Marybelle, who had been standing by a table supposedly feeding her goldfish, but really listening to, and enjoying, the fracas, called to Plum and made a face at her. Plum, instead of making a face back at her as Marybelle had expected her to, looked at her for a minute, then walked over, picked up the goldfish bowl and put it, goldfish and all, down over Marybelle’s head. Marybelle tried to scream but the sound that came out was more like rain water bubbling down a storm sewer. Mrs. Monday apparently didn’t even hear her, so Plum sauntered slowly out of the room and closed the door carefully behind her.
Some of the other children, who had seen Nancy come storming out of the sitting room a few minutes before, clustered around Plum and asked what had happened. She said, “I’ll tell you about it later,” and ran upstairs.
She found Nancy lying on their bed sobbing convulsively. Plum sat down beside her and said, “Well, I feel better now. I jammed the goldfish bowl down over Marybelle’s head. It had the goldfish in it, too.”
Nancy turned over and said, “Did you really?”
Plum said, “Yes, I was trying to be like Sara Crewe and hold in my anger but Mrs. Monday was so horrible and cruel and that little sneak was standing there enjoying it all and pretending to feed her goldfish, and when I started to go out she called to me and then made a face at me and it wasn’t a bad face at all, not half as bad as the ones I make or the ones she usually makes at me, but it was just too much. The next thing I knew the goldfish bowl was down over her head and there was seaweed all down the front of her and one big fat goldfish swimming around in her pocket.”
Nancy wiped her swollen red eyes on her sleeve and said, “Didn’t Marybelle scream?”
Plum said, “She gurgled like dishwater when the sink’s stopped up. Mrs. Monday didn’t even hear her, so I just sauntered out and closed the door.”
Nancy said, “Well, we’re certainly in trouble now. I wonder what Miss Waverly will say when I tell her we can’t be in the program and can’t go to the school picnic.”
Plum said, “I don’t care so much about the program but we are going to the picnic. We’re going to run away and go.”
Nancy said, “But how? You know that we’ll be locked in.”
Plum said, “I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way. Now I’m going down and try to find that dumb chicken. If Mrs. Monday comes up, don’t talk back to her. Just don’t say anything to her.” Plum went out.
In a few minutes, Eunice, Evangeline, Sally, Todd and Allan came in to see what had happened. When Nancy told them they all laughed delightedly at Plum’s putting the goldfish bowl on Marybelle’s head but they were furious at Mrs. Monday’s unfairness.
Sally said, “I’m going to be a tree in the program and Miss Dowd made us all tree costumes and I don’t see why, as long as you are going to sing ‘Trees,’ you couldn’t wear one of those. They’re awfully pretty. The dresses are long and brown and our arms and heads are all covered with pale pink blossoms.”
Nancy said, “That’s a wonderful idea, Sally. Do you think if I asked her, Miss Dowd would make me one?”
Sally said, “She wouldn’t have to, there’s an extra one because Jeanie Kirk has mumps and can’t wear hers.”
Eunice said, “I’ll go with you Monday and we can ask Miss Waverly to ask Miss Dowd.”
Nancy said, “Oh, I forgot. Mrs. Monday said that Plum and I can’t be in the program and we can’t go to the picnic.”
Todd said, “She can’t keep you out of a school program. That’s against the law.”
Allan said, “That’s right. She can keep you home from the picnic but she wouldn’t dare keep you out of the program.”
Nancy said, “Are you sure?”
Todd said, “Yes, because at another boarding home where I was, the woman kept some of the bigger kids home from school to do the work and the truant officer came out and then the police came and they closed up her house and sent all the kids home.”
Nancy said, “Was that out in the country like this?”
Todd said, “No, it was in Central City but I’m just sure you have to let kids go to school.”
Plum came in then, looking very dejected, and said, “I can’t find that old chicken. She must have flown back over the fence and gotten back with the other chickens.”
Nancy said, “Never mind, Plum, Sally had a splendid idea,” and she told Plum about the tree costume.
Plum said, “But Mrs. Monday said we couldn’t be in the program.”
Todd said, “I know but if you tell Miss Waverly that Mrs. Monday’s going to keep you home for a punishment, she’ll get the principal to talk to her.”
Allan said, “Yeah, Plum, keeping kids out of school is against the law.”
Plum said, “Oh, boy, do you think she’ll get sent to jail?”
Todd said, “She might, if the truant officer catches her.”
A voice from the doorway said, “Why are you children up here? Why aren’t you doing your work?”
The children scattered like frightened birds and Mrs. Monday said, “Pamela, I expect you to apologize to Marybelle.”
Plum said, “Mrs. Monday, I will apologize to Marybelle, if you let Nancy be in the school program.”
Mrs. Monday said, “I do not bargain with children, Pamela. When Nancy has apologized to me for her outrageous behavior I will then take the matter of the school program under consideration.”
Nancy said, “Mrs. Monday, I’m sorry I lost my temper, that was very foolish of me, but you were unfair about the school clothes. I have worn the same school dress for two years and it is all faded and shabby and it is way, way above my knees.”
Mrs. Monday said, “I feel that I was perfectly justified in telling you that it would be foolish to buy new school clothes at the end of the school year.”
Nancy said, “But, Mrs. Monday, a new dress wouldn’t be just for school. I could wear it to Sunday School, to Library Day and when company comes.”
Mrs. Monday said, “I am the best judge of if and when you need new clothes. Now let’s hear no more of this. Pamela, are you ready to come down and apologize to Marybelle?”
Plum said, “Mrs. Monday, if I apologize will you let Nancy go to the school program?”
Mrs. Monday said, “I repeat, Pamela, I do not bargain with children.”
Plum said, “Then I won’t apologize.”
Mrs. Monday said, “Very well, then, you will both stay in your room until you do apologize.” She went out, closing the door and locking it.
Plum said, “It’s lucky she doesn’t know how easy it is for me to go out the window and down the maple tree.”
Nancy said, “Do you think Todd and Allan are right? Do you think that Mrs. Monday has to let us be in the school program?”
Plum said, “Yes, but knowing Mrs. Monday, she’ll figure out a way to keep us home and that is why I’m planning on running away the night before.”
Nancy said, “But how will we get over the fence?”
Plum said, “I’ll think of a way. You just wait and see. Now I’m going down the tree and ask Old Tom for some fresh milk.”
Nancy stood by the window and watched Plum climb down the maple tree, take a quick look around to be sure no one was watching, then skitter across the barnyard and through the big barn door. Nancy saw St. Nick and her kittens come running up to Plum. “Oh, those darling kittens,” she said. “I wonder how much they’ve grown.”
She was squinting her eyes trying to see into the darkness of the barn, when suddenly she thought, “I’ll go down and see the kittens. If Plum can go down the tree, so can I.”
Rather timidly she eased herself out the window and onto the big limb that was just below the sill. With one hand she held to a branch over her head, with the other she clutched the window ledge. Then she looked down. My goodness, it was far down to the ground. She was right above one of the lightwells of the basement windows, too, and it was deep and dark and solid cement. Nancy shivered and looked longingly back into the little bedroom. Then she looked over toward the barn. She could still see Plum bent over playing with the kittens. Carefully she let go of the sill, moved her hand down to the branch beside her and inched her way along until she got to the main trunk. Still holding to the upper branch, she moved to a lower one. Then she changed hands and moved to a still lower one. It was scary but fun. She was surprised when she finally saw the ground just a few feet away. She jumped down, took a look around the way Plum had done and then skipped across the barnyard and slipped through the door calling, “Plum, I did it. I climbed down the tree.”
Plum said, “Wow, you scared me. It wasn’t hard, was it, Nancy?”
Nancy said, “At first I was nervous, especially when I looked down at the ground, but then I started down and the next thing I knew I was almost on the ground.”
Plum said, “That’s the way with everything the first time you do it. You’re sort of shaky and your stomach feels awfully empty, that’s the way I felt when I went in to ask Mrs. Monday for the new dresses, then you feel a little bit better and then before you know it, whatever it is you used to be afraid of, is over. Look at Prancer, he’s the biggest.”
Nancy said, “Come here, Prancer, don’t you remember me?” She picked up the fat little kitten and held it against her cheek. Prancer began to purr very softly and Nancy, her tear-swollen eyes shining, said, “Oh, Plum, listen to him. He likes me.”
Plum said, “Come over here, I’ll show you how funny they are when they play. I’ve got a string with a piece of paper tied on it and when I drag it across the floor they all jump on it and on each other.”
For about half an hour the little girls played with the kittens. Then Old Tom came in to milk and they stood and watched him and drank dipper after dipper of the warm foaming milk. Old Tom said, “No supper again tonight, eh? What’s the trouble this time?”
Plum told him about the program and the scene in Mrs. Monday’s sitting room and when she got to the part about the goldfish globe, Old Tom laughed so hard that Clover turned around to see what the commotion was.
Old Tom said, “Look, isn’t that just like a woman? Curious as can be. Gotta know what the joke is. Now you turn around there, Clover, and concentrate on giving down your milk so these hungry little children can have some supper.”
Plum said, “I love it out here in the barn. I wish we lived out here.”
Old Tom said, “It can get mighty lonesome out here, Plum. I love animals and they’re awfully comforting at times but it’s pretty hard to stay out here alone in the winter, especially when your own sister is living in such style right across the barnyard.”
“Your own sister, Mrs. Monday?” Both little girls said together.
“Yep,” Tom said. “My own sister. This was our home when we were little kids. We jumped in the old haymow together. We both rode our ponies together. We went to school together. But when we grew up we went different ways. Mine wasn’t a good way and I got in some serious trouble and when things got awful bad I turned to my sister Marybelle for help. She helped me, I’ll say that for her, but she never let me forget it. At first I was so troubled I didn’t notice how things had changed around here. But after I had been back a year or two, I saw that my sister Marybelle had turned into a hard, greedy woman. A woman who lets nothing or nobody stand in her way. I don’t know much about you two except that I like you and I feel sorry for you and if ever there’s anything I can do to help you, that’s in my power anyway and that my sister can’t find out about, I’ll sure do it.”
Nancy and Plum thanked Old Tom, and Plum said, “Well, Tom, if Mrs. Monday won’t let us go to the school program or the picnic, we are planning on going anyway and we may need you to help us get out.”
Old Tom said, “I don’t have the keys to the gates, she keeps them, but if she wasn’t home I could help you over the fence.”
Plum said, “If you help us, Tom, someday maybe we can help you.”
Old Tom said, “Who knows, Plum, who knows?”
While Plum and Nancy and Old Tom were talking in the barn, a farmer had stopped his truck and was examining a dead chicken that he had found lying in the road.
“Too bad,” he said. “Somebody’s nice big, fat red hen.”
He was just going to throw it in the ditch when he noticed something tied to its wing. Something white. With his pocketknife he cut the strings that held it, saw that the white thing was a letter, put the letter in his pocket and tossed the dead chicken away.
When he got home he told his wife about finding the chicken with the letter tied to its wing. His wife said, “Sounds like some child’s idea. Let me see the letter.”
The farmer took it out of the pocket of his blue shirt and handed it to his wife. She adjusted her glasses, looked it over carefully and said, “Certainly it is the work of a child. Notice the round careful writing. Also it hasn’t any stamp. Well, I’m going to town tomorrow and I’ll put a stamp on it and drop it at the post office.”