Chapter 6

Apparently, Mrs. Jameson's travels hadn't been too enjoyable because several days later Aunt Jenny received a surprise phone call from Burrbridge-her old neighbor. Of course, Aunt Jenny insisted her friend come right out to the house. A short time later, the familiar plump figure of her friend got out of the car, and all three women were at the door to welcome her.

"Jenny, I'm so glad to see you and the girls," Mrs. Jameson said.

"You come right into the kitchen, Mabel, and have a cup of tea while you tell us about it," Jenny invited.

"There's no fool like an old fool, I guess," Mabel Jameson said as she sipped the beverage. "For the last five years I've been anxious to get away from Burrbridge-I used my sister as a convenient excuse, always said I wanted to see her soon. But when I got out in the middle of Pennsylvania, I went to a motel-for which I paid two prices-and suddenly I came to my senses." She paused to munch on a cookie Shirley passed to her.

"That was the flattest land I ever did see," Mrs. Jameson continued. "There wasn't a hill or a view for mile after mile. I guess it's wonderful farming country," she conceded, "but it isn't for anyone who is used to our beautiful hills."

Mabel Jameson suddenly realized, she went on to explain, that she was homesick. Once she had admitted that, she knew that she was under no obligation to continue to California. If her friend Jenny could give her a room, she would use the money that the trip might have cost her to rebuild on the Jameson land. This time it would be a ranch-type house, small enough so that she could maintain it easily.

"But of course you must come to us," Jenny said warmly. "I have missed you, Mabel, and it does my heart good to have someone my own age close to me. There's a bedroom upstairs that is still empty. I think it is one of the nicest in the house. We'll get it fixed up for you in no time, and then you must consider yourself one of the family."

At that, Mrs. Jameson's tears overflowed. Shirley and Dolly stole quietly out of the kitchen to leave the two old friends to their further planning.

In a matter of hours, it seemed to Shirley, Mrs. Jameson was an accepted member of the household. Within a week everyone felt that she had always been there and that she was indispensable. Since Jenny would accept no money from her friend, Mabel Jameson insisted upon making herself useful. She helped Shirley with the cooking and cleaning and with the care of Dinky. Shirley was very grateful for the free time she was given, because it enabled her and Dolly to help with preparations for the Country Club dance, which was now almost upon them.

Suddenly Shirley realized that she had not planned a headdress to go with her Indian costume. She and Dolly drove to Stanton and canvassed the specialty shops there.

They finally found what they were seeking in a costume store, and Shirley bought additional beads to make a child's Indian headdress more glamorous. Shirley could just imagine Dinky's face when, after the dance, she presented him with this token of the Wild West.

"I never knew green slippers would be so hard to find," Dolly complained, her thoughts on her own costume. "And I think the nail polish manufacturers are losing a big bet in not making up green nail polish. I had my heart set on that; didn't think I'd have any trouble finding it."

"We have green food coloring right on the pantry shelf," Shirley comforted her. "We'll try it out tonight after supper."

Later, while Mrs. Jameson bustled about serving the meal, Shirley furtively took off her shoes under the table and wriggled her toes.

"We got almost everything we wanted," she reported to Aunt Jenny. "But I feel as if I had walked a hundred miles. There is so little time left! Are things all set for the buffet supper?"

"They are, thanks to Mabel," Jenny said with satisfaction. "It would be like that Helen Howell to have another baby just when I was counting on her for the potato bread. But Mabel knows the recipe and will make up six loaves tomorrow."

"That ought to be enough even for the throng that is expected for Saturday night's dance," George Weaver observed. He had made himself a one-man ticket agency and reported that, to date, he had disposed of over a hundred tickets. He was proud of his accomplishment and also proud of the costume he had thought out for himself.

He had explained at some length that this would consist of a huge cardboard box which would be open at the bottom so that he could walk. The top of it would rest on his shoulders, with openings on each side for his arms. But the crowning touch, to George, was the fact that the cardboard would be covered with layers of new paint that gave a textured finish. The paint was created for cracked or uneven surfaces, and as a covering for the box it would give George a chance to explain the product to prospective customers.

"Sounds like a good idea," Dan Hallbrook said, "but what state are you supposed to represent?"

"The Granite State, of course," George explained. "I was born in New Hampshire, although I've lived most of my life right here in Burrbridge. When this new paint is applied to the box, it will look like a block of granite."

"That's very clever," Tom Sanders commented, "But it sounds like a might uncomfortable dancing costume."

"I'll wear my tuxedo underneath," George declared, "and take off the costume after the prizes have been awarded."

Shirley suppressed a giggle. Somehow she could not imagine George Weaver as a man of granite. But, she conceded, he did have the figure for it.

When George questioned Dan and Tom about their costumes, neither one of the truckmen would tell except to say that they planned to represent the fine old state of Virginia. Dolly hastily inquired if they intended to come in the costume of the Virgin Queen and drew a reproving glance from her mother. Again Tom Sanders suggested that they could either be dogwood trees or flaming cardinals.

Aunt Jenny inquired as to what costume Joe Hamilton would wear. And, unexpectedly, it was George who replied. Sometimes professional painters, when working in a dark room or underground, wore a miner's cap with a little lamp in the front, George said. For this reason, he always kept a few in the paint shop.

"When Joe told me he was coming as a miner-Pennsylvania is his home state, you know-I offered to sell him one of the caps," George explained. "He snapped it up. He already has an old pair of overalls, and he can blacken his face and hands."

"That sounds like a most unattractive costume," Aunt Jenny commented. "I am sure Pennsylvania is noted for something else besides coal. As a matter-of-fact, since Independence Hall is in Philadelphia, I think he might rather come as Uncle Sam."

"Too late now," George commented airily. After all, Shirley reflected, George has already made the sale of a miner's cap.

"I don't think too much of your costume either, George," Jenny added. "It seems a little-well, commerical to advertise one of your products at a dance that is given for charity. But I suppose you will do what you think best. You'll be glad to know that Mabel has offered to babysit that night with Dinky, although I shall not be late once the buffet supper is served."

"I sincerely hope you will approve of our costumes, ma'am," said Dan Hallbrook. "We ordered them at Stanton this afternoon. But we want to keep them a surprise till tomorrow night."

"I sincerely hope so, too," Jenny said with some asperity. "If I don't approve, I can always ask you to leave this house." Her smile belied her words, and Shirley knew that the two strangers had at last been accepted as respectable men by Aunt Jenny.

"If you don't approve, ma'am," Tom Sanders grinned, "we can still come to the dance as what we are-truck drivers. We don't need any costume for that."