Nancy and Plum (10 page)

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:

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.