Jane of Lantern Hill Read Online Free Page B

time before grandmother knew about Jody. She made a great many sweetly sarcastic speeches about her but she never actually forbade Jane going over to play with her in the yard of 58. Jane was to be a good many years older before she understood the reason for that…understood that grandmother wanted to show anyone who might question it that Jane had common tastes and liked low people.
    â€œDarling, is this Jody of yours a nice little girl?” mother had asked doubtfully.
    â€œShe is a very nice little girl,” said Jane emphatically.
    â€œBut she looks so uncared for…positively dirty…”
    â€œHer face is always clean and she never forgets to wash behind her ears, mummy. I’m going to show her how to wash her hair. Her hair would be lovely if it was clean…it’s so fine and black and silky. And may I give her one of my jars of cold cream…I’ve two, you know…for her hands? They’re so red and chapped because she has to work so hard and wash so many dishes.”
    â€œBut her clothes…”
    â€œShe can’t help her clothes. She just has to wear what’s given her and she never has more than two dresses at a time…one to wear every day and one to go to Sunday School in. Even the Sunday School one isn’t very clean…it was Mrs. Bellew’s Ethel’s old pink one and she spilled coffee on it. And she has to work so hard…she’s a regular little slave, Mary says. I like Jody very much, mummy. She’s sweet .”
    â€œWell,”…mother sighed and gave way. Mother always gave way if you were firm enough. Jane had already discovered that. She adored mother but she had unerringly laid her finger on the weak spot in her character. Mother couldn’t “stand up to” people. Jane had heard Mary say that to Frank one time when they didn’t think she heard and she knew it was true.
    â€œShe’ll go with the last one that talks to her,” said Mary. “And that’s always the old lady.”
    â€œWell, the old lady’s mighty good to her,” said Frank. ‘‘She’s a gay little piece.”
    â€œGay enough. But is she happy?” said Mary.
    â€œHappy? Of course, mummy is happy,” Jane had thought indignantly…all the more indignantly because, away back in her mind, there was lurking a queer suspicion that mother, in spite of her dances and dinners and furs and dresses and jewels and friends, wasn’t happy. Jane couldn’t imagine why she had this idea. Perhaps a look in mother’s eyes now and then…like something shut up in a cage.
    Jane could go over and play in the yard of 58 in the spring and summer evenings after Jody had finished washing stacks of dishes. They made their “imaginary” garden, they fed crumbs to the robins and the black and gray squirrels, they sat up in the cherry tree and watched the evening star together. And talked! Jane, who could never find anything to say to Phyllis, found plenty to say to Jody.
    There was never any question of Jody coming to play in the yard of 60. Once, early in their friendship, Jane had asked Jody to come over. She had found Jody crying under the cherry tree again and discovered that it was because Miss West had insisted on her putting her old teddy bear in the garbage pail. It was, Miss West said, utterly worn out. It had been patched until there was no more room for patches and even shoe buttons couldn’t be sewn any more into its worn-out eye-sockets. Besides, she was too old to be playing with Teddy Bears.
    â€œBut I’ve nothing else,” sobbed Jody. “If I had a doll, I wouldn’t mind. I’ve always wanted a doll…but now I’ll have to sleep alone away up there…and it’s so lonesome.”
    â€œCome over to our house and I’ll give you a doll,” said Jane.
    Jane had never cared much for dolls because they were not alive. She had a very nice one