Patchwork | Page 6

Phoebe cried as she leaned on the fence and
watched the bird. "You're just the prettiest thing with them red and
yellow spots on your wings. And you ain't afraid of me, not a bit. I
guess mebbe you know you got wings and I ain't. Such pretty wings
you got, too, and the rest of you is all black as coal. Mebbe God made
you black all over like a crow and then got sorry for you and put some
pretty spots on your wings. I wonder now"--her face sobered--"I just
wonder now why Aunt Maria says still that it's bad to fix up pretty with
curls and things like that and to wear fancy dresses. Why, many of the
birds are vonderful fine in gay feathers and the flowers are fancy and
the butterflies--ach, mebbe when I'm big I'll understand it better, or
mebbe I'll dress up pretty then too."
With that cheering thought she turned again to the road and resumed
her walk, but the skipping mood had fled. She pulled her sunbonnet to
its proper place and walked briskly along, still enjoying thoroughly,
though less exuberantly, the beauty of the June morning.
The scent of pink clover mingled with the odor of grasses and the
delicate perfume of sweetbrier. Wood sorrel nestled in the grassy
corners near the crude rail fences, daisies and spiked toad-flax grew
lavishly among the weeds of the roadside. In the meadows tall
milkweed swayed its clusters of pink and lavender, marsh-marigolds
dotted the grass with discs of pure gold, and Queen Anne's lace lifted
its parasols of exquisite loveliness. Phoebe reveled in it all; her cheeks
were glowing as she left the beauty of the country behind her and came
at last to the little town of Greenwald.

CHAPTER II
OLD AARON'S FLAG
GREENWALD is an old town but it is a delightfully interesting one. It
does not wear its antiquity as an excuse for sinking into mouldering
uselessness. It presents, rather, a strange mingling of the quaint,
romantic and historic with the beautiful, progressive and modern.
Though it clings reverently to honored traditions it is ever mindful of
the fact that the welfare of its inhabitants is dependent upon reasonable
progress in its religious, educational and industrial life.
The charming stamp of its antiquity is revealed in its great old trees; its
wide Market Square from which narrower streets branch to the east,
west, north and south; its numerous houses of the plain, substantial type
of several generations ago; its occasional little, low houses which have
withstood the march of modern building and stand squarely beside
houses of more elaborate and later design; but chiefly in its
old-fashioned gardens. All the old-time flowers are favorites there and
refuse to be displaced by any newcomer. Sweet alyssum and candytuft
spread carpets of bloom along the neat garden walks, hollyhocks and
dahlias look boldly out to the streets, while the old-fashioned
sweet-scented roses grow on great bushes which have been undisturbed
for three or more generations.
To Phoebe Metz, Greenwald, with its two thousand inhabitants, its
several churches, post-office and numerous stores, seemed a veritable
city. She delighted in walking on its brick sidewalks, looking at its
different houses and entering its stores. How many attractions these
stores held for the little country girl! There was the big one on the
Square which had in one of its windows a great lemon tree on which
grew real lemons. Another store had a large Santa Claus in its window
every Christmas--not that Phoebe Metz had ever been taught to believe
in that patron saint of the children--oh, no! Maria Metz would have
considered it foolish, even sinful, to lie to a child about any mythical
Santa Claus coming down the chimney Christmas Eve! Nevertheless,
the smiling, rotund face of the red-habited Santa in the store window

seemed so real and so emanative of cheer that Phoebe delighted in him
each year and felt sure there must be a Santa Claus somewhere in the
world, even though Aunt Maria knew nothing about him.
Most little towns can boast of one or more persons like Granny
Hogendobler, well-nigh community owned, certainly community
appropriated. Did any one need a helper in garden or kitchen or sewing
room, Granny Hogendobler was glad to serve. Did a housewife
remember that a rose geranium leaf imparts to apple jelly a delicious
flavor, Granny Hogendobler was able and willing to furnish the leaf.
Did a lover of flowers covet a new phlox or dahlia or other
old-fashioned flower, Granny Hogendobler was ready to give of her
stock. Should a young wife desire a recipe for crullers, shoo-fly pie, or
other delectable dish, Granny had a wealth of reliable recipes at her
tongue's end. This admirable desire to serve found ample opportunities
for