Dorothy's Tour

“Must be from Dorothy. Can’t think of anyone else writing me, can you? I’ll open it and see.

“Oh, ma! Listen, listen! Dear Dorothy wants me right away. Oh, how can I get to her; you couldn’t get on without me, now. Oh, dear, oh dear,” wailed Alfy, most in tears.

“Alfaretta Babcock, come to your senses. A big girl like you, crying,” scolded Ma Babcock. “Tell me what Dorothy says in her letter.”

Alfaretta, reading —

“Dear, dear Alfy – .

“In two weeks I start on my concert tour, and as I had not expected to go for more than a month at least, I want you to come and stay with me and I’ve got such a good proposition to make you. I will be very busy and will need you to help me get my clothes and things together. Oh, Alfy, dear, please, please come. Don’t you disappoint me. I just must see you again. It’s been such an awful long time since you have stayed with me. Tell Ma Babcock she simply must let you come. Metty will meet you at the station. Take the noon train. Give my love to all the little Babcocks and to ma. Tell ma, Baretta and Claretta can help her while you are away, and I am sure that Matthew will help too. Oh, Alfy, do, do come. With love,

    “Ever your affectionate,
    “Dorothy.

“There, ma, that’s what she says.”

“Well, well, things do come sudden always. I must get my things on and drive down and tell ’em all at Liza Jane’s Thread and Needle Store to start the news a-spreadin’.”

“Then I may go?”

“Matthew, hitch up Barnabas, quick now,” responded Mrs. Babcock, by way of response. “You, Alfy, go inside in the front room and get your clothes out so we can see what’s clean and what ain’t.”

“Ma! Then I can go! Oh, goody, goody! I am so glad. And I can start to-morrow – yes? Oh please say yes!” coaxed Alfy.

Inside in the front room, Alfy working quickly, sorted things out and before Ma Babcock got back with a new pair of shoes for her, she had most of her things mended (as she was real handy with the needle), and nearly all packed in the old suit case Pa Babcock brought home with him from Chicago.

“Alfy!” called ma from the kitchen. “Try on these shoes and see as they’re all right.”

“Yes, ma,” answered Alfy, coming into the kitchen with thread and needle in one hand and shirt-waist in the other. “What shall I do with these? I can’t take those shoes with these in my hand.”

“Go back and take those things in and put them on the bed,” said ma, getting vexed at Alfy’s excitement and trying to calm her down.

Alfy, after laying the things down, came back and took the shoes and some new ribbons ma had brought her from Liza Jane’s and went back to the front room.

“My, but these shoes are real smart. I think that they are and hope Dorothy will. And shucks, no one has such pretty ribbons. Black, that’s kind of old and dull looking. I like the red much the best. The blue ones are real pretty, too. And my, but those red ribbons are pretty.” And thus Alfy talked to herself as she fussed around and tried to remember all the little things she wanted.

“Ma, ma,” and Alfy ran in the kitchen calling louder as she went: “Where did you put my raincoat? You know I haven’t used that one – the good one – since I was to California with Dorothy.”

“Well, let me see. Reckon I did see you have it. So long ago I can’t just remember. Must a been last year some time. Oh, did you look in the closet in the barn? Upstairs in the room I had fixed for the boys to sleep in, but they got scared and wouldn’t. You remember I put all the things we didn’t use much up there.”

“I’ll look. Maybe it’s up there,” and Alfy went out still talking to herself, while ma went all over the house, in all the closets, looking for that raincoat. It was a very fine raincoat, one just like Dorothy’s, only Alfaretta’s was red while Dorothy’s was gray. Mrs. Calvert had bought one for each of the girls in San Francisco. Alfy had put hers away when she reached home, hoping to be able to use it some time again, thinking it was too good for use “up mounting.”

Alfy was now in the barn and had just reached the closed door when she heard a curious “tap-tap.” Alfy was not afraid. She never had been what the boys call a “scare-cat,” but it seemed kind of funny, so she stood still and listened. “Tap-tap.”

“My,” thought Alfy. “What’s that? Oh, it’s – ”

“Tap-tap,” again and this time the sound came from right over Alfaretta’s head, making her start and her heart go thump, thump so loud she thought whoever it was tapping could hear it. She tried to move, but stood rooted to the spot. “Tap-tap.” This time to the right of the girl. Then Alfy summoned her lost courage and said as calmly as she could, “Who’s there?”

No one responded, and in a few seconds, “Tap-tap,” came the sound to the left of the girl. Then thoroughly scared, as the room was half dark and rapidly growing darker, Alfy turned and ran, stumbling over an old stool as she tried to make the door in great haste.

Matthew heard her and came running up, saying: “What’s the matter, sis?” He had been unhitching Barnabas, as Ma Babcock was through with him now.

“Oh!” moaned Alfy. “It’s some one in the closet. I heard them tap-tapping and got scared and ran. Gosh, my shin hurts! There!” giving the stool that had caused the disaster a vicious kick.

“Maybe – oh, Alfy! Maybe – ” chimed in Matthew. “Maybe its a ghost.”

“Ma! Ma!” screached Alfy.

“Ma! Ma!” yelled Matthew.

Both by this time were rapidly approaching the kitchen.

“Well,” said Ma Babcock, “You – land o’ livin’ – you look as though you’d seen a ghost.”

“Ma,” murmured Alfy, “we didn’t see him, I heard him. He’s in the closet in the barn.”

And then both children started in to talk and explain at the same time so that ma couldn’t understand a word.

“Here, you – you Alfy, tell me all. You, Matthew, keep still,” she exclaimed.

Then Alfy told her how she heard the tapping on the door of the closet.

“Come, we’ll all go back and see,” said Ma Babcock, and with that they all started for the barn, Alfy limping after ma and Matthew.

When they reached the upstairs room they tip-toed to the closet and listened, and after waiting a few minutes and hearing nothing, ma called loudly, “Is anyone in there?” No answer came. Then she quickly flung open the closet door, and what did they hear but the flutter, flutter of wings, and then they saw, perched high on the lintel of the door, a little wood-pecker.

“There,” said Ma Babcock, “there is what made those tap-taps, a wood-pecker. Just as if I didn’t know there couldn’t be any ghosts. And a great big girl like you, Alfaretta, being scared of a little bird.”

With that they all breathed a sigh of relief, and Matthew and ma went down out of the barn, leaving Alfaretta to look over the contents of the well packed closet, to find, if possible, her raincoat.

“My, my, just think what a lot I shall have to tell Dorothy. I wonder what she will say. Just a bird. Shucks. I thought it was a real ghost. But ma says there are no really real ghosts. But, well, I don’t know.”

All this time Alfy had been opening boxes and shutting them, putting them back where she had found them, when suddenly she came across an old sampler about a foot square. Alfy looked at it, then brought it to the lamp and could see lots of new and hard stitches she had never learned. She didn’t see how anyone could sew them at all. And, my – what was that in the corner? A name. “Well,” thought Alfy, “here is a find. Maybe I can beg it off ma, and then I can take it to Dorothy.”

She had almost forgotten her raincoat, when she went back to the closet and looked in the box again to see if there was anything else new there, and then discovered her precious raincoat in the bottom of the big box. Hastily closing the box and shoving things back in the closet, with her raincoat and the queer old sampler, Alfy ran hurriedly downstairs and through the yard and into the kitchen.

Ma Babcock had by this time prepared dinner and just as Alfy came in she called all the children to the dinner table.

“Ma,” exclaimed Alfy, “I found my raincoat, and this, too. What is it?”

“Let me see.” “Let me see.” “And me,” chimed in all the little Babcocks, trying to get possession of what Alfy was holding.

“Be quiet,” said ma, sternly. “Give it to me, Alfy.” Alfy handed her the sampler and Ma Babcock exclaimed: “Poor Hannah! Poor Hannah!”

“What Hannah? And was she very poor – poorer than we?” lisped little Luke, the youngest of the Babcocks.

“Ma, who did you say?” demanded Alfaretta.