CHAPTER 12 A Quilt Show

FOR a long moment, no one said a word. Veve, Connie and Eileen merely stared at the Mexican baby and their crazy quilt.

Then Eileen reached down and turned back one corner of the coverlet.

Just as she had feared, the Brownie troop name was stitched in the corner.

“This is our quilt,” she said, looking hard at Juan. “It is the one we lost.”

Eileen was certain that the Mexicans had stolen the coverlet, but she was careful not to make a direct accusation.

“Your quilt?” Juan repeated. He seemed very much surprised.

“Juan, how did it get here?” Veve asked. She hoped that somehow he would be able to explain.

“Why, I found the quilt,” he answered without hesitation.

“You found it?” Eileen demanded. “Where?”

“Blown against the fence at the edge of Mr. Hooper’s orchard.”

“Blown against the fence!” Eileen could not understand.

“Miss Gordon left the quilt folded up under a tree,” Connie declared. “There was a fence not far away—”

“This quilt is yours?” Juan asked politely.

“Of course it is,” Eileen told him, pointing to the Brownie name. “That’s the name of our organization.”

“Brownies?” Juan appeared to consider the name an odd one.

“It’s a national organization,” Connie said proudly. “When we’re too old to be Brownies we’ll ‘fly up’ and be Girl Scouts.”

“We try to help others,” Veve explained. “That’s why we started picking cherries at Mr. Hooper’s orchard.”

“And the quilt?” Juan asked.

“We pieced it, expecting to sell it at a quilt show,” Eileen answered. “Instead, we—we lost it. Miss Gordon left it under an oak tree on Mr. Hooper’s place, and the next thing we knew, it was gone.”

“Now we find it here!” Connie said severely. “Juan, did you really find our quilt blown against the fence?”

“Si, Senorita, I truly did,” Juan replied, becoming a bit excited. “I would not steal. Do you not believe me?”

“I do,” said Veve instantly. “Now that I think back, a strong gust of wind did come up that day. It could have blown the coverlet against the wire fence.”

Juan picked up his baby sister and moved her off the quilt.

Carefully, he folded the coverlet and handed it to Veve.

“It is not much hurt,” he said. “I am very sorry.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Veve reassured him. “We’re just glad to get the quilt back. And to know that it wasn’t stolen.”

“I would not steal,” Juan said proudly. “Especially from my friends.”

Now that the girls had their crazy quilt, they started to leave the camp. But Juan would not let them go. He wished to make amends for the quilt.

“Wait!” he commanded.

The little boy ran off. Three minutes later he was back again, bearing an armload of beautiful gifts.

He handed Eileen a blue apron with fancy drawn-work. For Connie he had a bowl painted with red and green and black colors. The design was very unusual.

Upon Veve, Juan bestowed the nicest gift of all. He gave her a handsome red and white hand-woven blanket which was far more expensive than the quilt.

“Oh, we can’t take all these things!” Connie protested. “All we want is our own quilt back again.”

“You are my friends,” Juan said, flashing his warm smile. “Keep the presents. They are mere trifles.”

He told the girls again that he was sorry he had taken the quilt by mistake.

“There’s an old saying that it’s an ill wind that blows no one good,” Connie laughed. “That old wind that carried our quilt off, certainly brought us luck.”

The girls knew that Mrs. Webber and the Brownies were waiting at the roadside. So reluctantly they bade Juan good-bye. They were sorry they did not have longer to stay at the Mexican camp, for everyone seemed very friendly.

“You must come again soon,” Juan invited cordially.

The three girls promised that they would return. They really meant it too, for the camp was a most interesting place.

“We are having a quilt show and a cherry festival Friday night on the church grounds,” Veve informed the little Mexican boy. “Our crazy quilt will be sold to the highest bidder.”

“A cherry festival,” Juan said, his eyes dancing. “Will there be music?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Veve admitted. “We will have lots of fun though and make money.” Impulsively, she added: “You must be sure to come, Juan. And bring all your friends.”

Juan seemed a trifle surprised, but very pleased to receive the invitation.

“You want us?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

“Of course!” Veve did not notice that Connie and Eileen were sending warning signals in her direction.

“Thank you, Senorita,” Juan said, bowing and smiling.

He walked with the girls to the edge of the camp. From there they went on alone, bearing their gifts and the crazy quilt.

Once beyond hearing of the Mexican boy, Connie and Eileen took Veve to task.

“What possessed you?” Eileen demanded. “Why did you invite Juan and his friends to our festival?”

“Because I like him.”

“So do I,” admitted Eileen. “All the same, I don’t think you should have invited him. Do you, Connie?”

“Well—I’m afraid the townsfolk may not like it. They never invite the Mexicans anywhere.”

Veve tossed her head. “That’s all the more reason for asking Juan. I don’t think it’s fair to make the Mexicans stay here in their camp all the time, just because they’re pickers.”

“Well, maybe they won’t come anyhow,” Connie said. “After all, you didn’t tell Juan what time the festival starts.”

“That’s so,” Veve agreed, somewhat in relief.

At the car once more, the girls showed Mrs. Webber and the other Brownies the fine gifts they had received.

“Oh, I’m so glad you have the quilt back again,” Eileen’s mother declared. “How pleased I am that no one actually stole it.”

Rosemary, Sunny and Jane also were delighted to have regained the precious quilt.

Nevertheless, they felt annoyed because the other three girls had not motioned for them to come to the camp.

“You could have waved your hand the way you promised you would!” Jane said with a toss of her head. “I guess you wanted to have all the fun yourselves!”

“And get a lot of presents,” added Sunny.

“We didn’t have time to signal,” Veve insisted. “Honest!”

“That’s so,” added Connie earnestly. “Until the last minute, we didn’t think the crazy quilt was in the camp. Then we finally saw it inside a tent.”

“Juan was standing right beside us,” Eileen explained. “If we had signaled, he would have thought it strange.”

“I think the girls did very well,” Mrs. Webber ended the discussion. “Matters have been handled perfectly—much better perhaps than if we all had gone to the camp.”

Taking the quilt and the gifts with them, the Brownies returned to the orchard. By this time it was too late to do any more picking.

In fact, as they gathered up their belongings to leave, Mr. Hooper told them that they would not need to come the following day, which was Saturday.

“I expect the Mexican crew to move in here early tomorrow,” he explained. “They should finish up at Wingate’s place long before lunch and then pick my orchard. Otherwise, I never could save my fruit. It has been ripening so fast that the cannery soon will start rejecting.”

“Will you lose any of the fruit?” Veve asked the orchard owner.

“Not if the Mexicans move in here on schedule tomorrow,” Mr. Hooper replied. He glanced thoughtfully at the sky. “The only thing that worries me is the weather. If it should rain—”

“Why, the sun is shining,” Eileen observed. “It doesn’t look a bit like rain.”

“Not now it doesn’t. But one never can tell at this season of year. However, I’m not borrowing trouble.”

The Brownies were rather sorry that for them the cherry picking had ended. Although the work had been hard, they had enjoyed it. Likewise, they had earned considerable money. They wondered if Mr. Hooper would speak of that.

Already the orchard owner was consulting the cards in his filing cabinet.

“You’ll have to wait while I figure out how much I owe you girls,” he said. “Shall I make out the sum in one check or several?”

“To the organization,” Connie told him. “How much have we earned?”

“That’s hard to say off-hand. Counting the work your mothers did, it will come to more than fifty dollars. Maybe sixty.”

“Sixty dollars!” gasped Eileen. “Why, the Brownies are rich!”

“That’s the most money our organization ever made,” Connie added proudly. “And we still have our quilt to sell.”

She told Mr. Hooper about the festival which the Brownies planned to have the next day.

“If you aren’t too busy here at the orchard, we would like you to attend,” she invited him.

Mr. Hooper thanked Connie and said he certainly would come if he could.

“It will take me a long while to figure out what I owe you girls,” he said, after consulting the time cards again. “Tell you what! Why don’t I mail the check to your leader, Miss Gordon? Or even better, bring it to your festival?”

The Brownies and their mothers agreed that this would be an excellent plan. Already it was growing late and they were tired from such a long day.

“We will see you at the festival!” Connie declared as the girls left the orchard. “Don’t forget, Mr. Hooper!”

Veve, Connie and Eileen rode home in Mrs. Webber’s car. As they were driving into the outskirts of the city, Veve suddenly noticed the sky.

“Oh, see!” she exclaimed, pointing. “The sun is drawing water up into the clouds! That means it will rain tomorrow!”

Mrs. Webber slowed the car and took a quick glance at the sky. The clouds had separated so that the sun shone through. The rays did appear to be drawing water from the land.

“The sun doesn’t actually pull water up into the sky,” she told the girls.

“Why, you can see it plain as anything!” Veve insisted.

Mrs. Webber smiled and shook her head.

“It only appears that way, Veve. Instead, the sun shines upon dust and millions of water droplets already in the air. They reflect the sunshine and the rays show plainly against the cloudy sky.”

“But how did the water get into the air?” Veve asked.

“I’ll try to make it clear by a simple illustration. Did you ever leave a shallow pan filled with water out in the yard?”

“I guess so,” Veve admitted.

“And later the water nearly all disappeared?”

“That’s right. Danny, the dog that lives next door to us, drank it up!”

“Well, if Danny hadn’t come along, the water would have evaporated.”

“Oh, I’ve seen that happen,” Connie declared. “Once at our house a plant dish filled with water during a rain. A few days later every drop was gone.”

“But how does the water ’vaporate?” Veve demanded. “I never saw it happen.”

“The water separates into particles which are called molecules,” Eileen’s mother explained. “Molecules are too small to be seen. However, they turn into water vapor which is light enough to be carried away.”

Eileen remarked that she would think the air would be damp from the vapor.

“Sometimes it does seem so if the vapor is heavy,” her mother replied. “Water vapor is everywhere. At times a great deal is in the air, and at other times only a small amount.”

Rather anxiously, Veve studied the cloudy sky.

“I just hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow,” she said. “If anything should prevent the Mexican pickers from coming to Pa Hooper’s orchard, he would be almost certain to lose the rest of his fruit.”

“A rain would ruin our festival too,” added Connie, stretching her tired feet. “I wonder how Miss Gordon is feeling? If she should be ill, we would have to postpone the quilt show.”

The next day the Brownies were very relieved to learn that their leader felt as well as usual. She assured the girls that the festival would be held exactly as planned.

Now, all the mothers had worked very hard to make the affair a success. They had made fancy paper lanterns decorated with cherries, to string in the church lawn.

The table where cherry pie was to be served had been decorated with garlands of paper cherry blossoms.

Several booths had been set up for the display of quilts.

However, the Brownies thought the most interesting feature was the queen’s throne. A swing had been used. The ropes which hung from a large maple tree, had been entwined with artificial cherry blossoms.

Mrs. Davidson had fashioned the paper crown to be bestowed upon the girl who was chosen queen. The material was elegant, consisting of gold mat stock shaped to fit a small head. Colored cellophane had been used to fashion jewels.

The queen was to be chosen by vote. Only members of the Brownie organization were privileged to ballot.

“I hope I’m elected queen,” Veve said, trying the crown on her head. “See, it fits perfectly!”

“It fits any of the Brownies,” Jane Tuttle replied. “We’re supposed to vote for the girl who has been the most helpful to the organization. The one considered the most resourceful and kind.”

“I was the one who thought of picking cherries,” Veve pointed out.

“Oh, Miss Gordon doesn’t mean things like that,” Jane retorted. “She wants us to select for our queen the Brownie who has been the most courteous, helpful and fair.”

“That would be Connie,” Veve said honestly. “She always is polite to everyone. And I’ve heard Miss Gordon say that she has very good judgment. I’ll vote for Connie.”

“Maybe I will too,” Jane returned. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Throughout the morning and early afternoon the Brownies were kept very busy. Although their mothers took care of the hardest work, there were many errands to run.

By four o’clock, however, everything was in readiness for the festival.

All of the quilts were arranged for the display. On the long table stood a long row of freshly baked cherry pies.

“My, how good they look!” Veve exclaimed. “Only I wish they were chocolate or lemon or apple. After picking so many cherries, I’m a little tired of them.”

At five o’clock the Brownies went home to dress for the festival and to have an early supper. The affair was supposed to start at six-thirty.

“Be sure to wear your Brownie uniforms and to be here on time,” Miss Gordon warned the girls.

Connie and Veve both were back at the church by six-fifteen. Miss Gordon told them their assignment was to greet the visitors. After nearly everyone had arrived they were to take charge of one of the booths where quilts were displayed.

“When will we auction off our crazy quilt?” Connie asked.

Miss Gordon said the coverlet would not be sold until nearly everyone had arrived. The queen, however, was to be chosen fairly early in the evening.

Veve and Connie enjoyed greeting the guests. Very soon, people began to arrive.

At first only the parents came, but presently others began to straggle in. The table where cherry pie was served became very popular.

“Dear me, I never dreamed so many persons would attend our festival on such short notice,” Miss Gordon whispered to Connie’s mother. “Do you suppose we will have enough cherry pies to serve everyone?”

After that, the mothers cut the pies into smaller pieces. The Brownies did not take any and neither did Miss Gordon.

“Oh, see who’s coming!” Veve said suddenly, nudging Connie.

A tall woman in a stiff sailor hat was walking briskly down the street.

Under her arm was a large bundle.

“Who is she?” Connie whispered, for she did not recognize the woman.

“It’s Miss Adelia Brimborough,” Veve said in an undertone. “She wouldn’t lend me her quilt for the show. I think she has nerve to come here now.”

Seeing the two girls, Miss Brimborough moved directly toward them.

“Good evening,” she said, addressing Veve. “Here is something for you.”

She handed over the awkward-shaped bundle.

“It is my dogwood blossom quilt,” she explained to the startled Veve. “After you left that day, I thought how selfish it was of me to refuse to let you have the quilt. The Brownies, I am told, are highly responsible. So here it is, my dear.”

“Oh, thank you!” Veve gasped.

She and Connie took the quilt to add to the display. They spread it out very carefully, for they knew that Miss Brimborough would hate to have it soiled.

“I have three entries now!” Veve laughed. “The autograph quilt, the Mexican blanket, and now this one!”

A car had driven up to the curb. Connie saw the driver alight, and scarcely could believe her eyes.

“Why, it’s Harold McLean, president of the Rosedale Chamber of Commerce!” she whispered in awe. “He’s terribly important.”

“Did you invite him, Connie?”

“No, I didn’t. Maybe he saw one of the posters. You greet him.”

“No, you,” Veve insisted, hanging back. “I don’t know what to say.”

Miss Gordon herself came forward to welcome the Chamber of Commerce president. She was as surprised as the Brownies to see him there.

“Well, well, WELL,” said Mr. McLean in a hearty voice. “A cherry festival in full swing, eh? I saw your lighted lanterns and couldn’t resist stopping. I always was a push-over for cherry pie.”

“Then do have a large piece,” invited Miss Gordon. She escorted him to the nearby table.

Mr. McLean ate one piece of pie and then asked for another.

“We’re certain to run out if this keeps on,” Connie whispered anxiously. “And see! Someone else is coming.”

Another automobile, one which the girls were certain they had seen before, had driven up to the churchyard.

The driver stepped out and looked around. As the light shone on his face, both Veve and Connie recognized him.

“It’s Carl Wingate!” Veve muttered in an undertone. “Now who invited him?”

“I’m sure I didn’t.”

“Nor I.”

“Eileen must have done it that day she rode back on the Wingate truck from the canning factory. Oh, dear, and we’re running out of pie too. I don’t feel like being nice to him.”

“We must though, Veve. We’re the official greeters.”

The two Brownies went forward to speak to the orchard owner. He did not seem to remember them or to recall that he had refused to give them a job.

After that several women came who had donated quilts for the show. Everyone admired the fine coverlets on display. The Brownies were kept busy explaining about the different patterns, and showing their own crazy quilt.

“I wish Pa Hooper would come and bring our check,” Connie remarked as the evening wore on. “But I guess he isn’t coming.”

“Maybe it’s just as well,” Veve hinted. “With Mr. Wingate here, they might not get along together. I don’t see why he had to come.”

Presently, Miss Gordon announced that it was time for the Brownies to choose their queen. Slips of paper were passed out to the six girls.

Veve was writing Connie’s name on her sheet when she heard laughter from far down the street.

An old battered car chugged up to the churchyard. A Mexican man was driving it. In the automobile were at least a dozen children, dressed in their brightest.

“The cherry pickers!” exclaimed Veve. “They did decide to come.”

“And there is Juan with his brothers and sisters,” added Connie.

The Mexican children piled out of the car, shouting with laughter.

However, as they started across the churchyard, Carl Wingate moved forward to meet them.

Before either Veve or Connie could greet the newcomers, he walked directly to them.

“What do you mean coming here?” he demanded. “You know you’re not wanted.”