From the Relief Society Magazine, February 1953 –

Morning’s at Seven

By Mabel S. Harmer

Janey was not eavesdropping. She had been told to sit there on the porch and shell peas. If her mother had wanted to get her away she could easily have said, “Run down and gather some currants, Janey.” Or, “You may go and play now, dear. The peas can wait.” She did that often enough, when Mrs. Mathews came across the street to visit.

Janey was awfully glad that today wasn’t one of those times. She did so love to hear Mrs. Mathews talk. She knew absolutely everything about everybody and rolled the most delicious little bits of news off her tongue. It was easy to tell that she got real enjoyment just out of talking.

Right now, however, she was merely telling about Mrs. Whitcomb’s operation, and it wasn’t at all exciting, so Janey went back to thinking of Pippa, the little factory girl, about whom she had been reading last night. Pippa was an entrancing character. She had only one day in all the year for herself, and had used that day to go through the countryside singing her song. Although Pippa didn’t know it, the song had changed the lives of everyone who heard it.

Pippa – what a lovely name! Janey said it twice very softly. It sounded like a song sparrow at dawn or wood violets in April. As for her own name, it wouldn’t always be just plain Jane. When she grew up and could wear nylons and a black satin dress she would spell it Jayne. Nearly everyone now called her Janey, so she would only have to juggle the y and e around.

And Pippa’s song! It was as lovely as her name. No wonder it changed everyone who heard it. Janey tried to make up a tune for the words, “The year’s at the spring and day’s at the morn, morning’s at seven …”

She was brought back with a start when she heard Mrs. Mathews mention Andrea Cline.

Anything about her music teacher would be interesting. She was so tall and had such beautiful camellia skin – at least, Janey called it that. And her great dark eyes! Besides, it was so romantic for her to live in the big Cline mansion that had been built by her grandfather, who, some people said, was a rogue. Whatever he was, he had certainly built a beautiful big house with a sparkly glass chandelier in the parlor.

“You know she must be nearly thirty now,” Mrs. Mathews was saying. “And she’s never been able to settle on another fellow since Steve Welling married. After his wife died I thought sure …”

“It’s nothing but pride that keeps them apart,” Janey’s mother interrupted. “And mighty foolish pride at that. Steve met Elsie while he was down in Georgia in the army. I guess he was like a lot of the other boys – so upset with this war business that he didn’t know what he was doing – and they’d get so lonely and all. Not that Elsie wasn’t a sweet little girl, but now that she’s dead, and Steve is left with those two children …”

“That’s just the trouble,” declared Mrs. Mathews emphatically. “I’m just as sure as I am that I’m sitting here that he wants to make up with her, but he’s afraid it might look like all he wanted was someone to take care of the children – although, goodness knows, he sure needs someone better than that poor old slow-moving Mrs. Ransome. And Andrea’s too proud to lift a finger to get him back because he didn’t ask her in the first place.”

Janet let the peas fall absently through her fingers as she drew a mental picture of the lovely Andrea Cline sitting alone in the big two-story house with the glass chandelier and the attic made into a ballroom – her beauty gradually fading, while she taught five-finger exercises to the little girls of Torrey, turning away all suitors because she still loved Steve Welling.

With Mrs. Mathews’ next words, the fascinating, soul-stirring picture was shattered. Janey gave such a start that the pan fell right off her lap and half the peas went rolling across the porch.

“She’s going away, you know.” It was clear from her tone that Mrs. Mathews had been saving this choice bit of gossip until the last. “She’s leaving for Boston to study music, although I’m sure I don’t know why she needs any more.”

Janey knelt to scoop up the peas before her mother saw them and had a conniption. This was a terrible situation. Something must be done about it. Andrea mustn’t be allowed to go off to a big city where she would never see Steve Welling again while his little girls grew up just getting their hair combed every other day and maybe no vitamins.

It was up to somebody to do something about it – probably herself. Would it help to walk past the Cline house singing Pippa’s song? Perhaps Andrea would listen and when she heard the words, “The hillside’s dew pearled, the lark’s on the wing,” her heart would be so full of beauty that there would be no room for pride. On the other hand, maybe she wouldn’t pay the least bit of attention. Pippa didn’t know about the good that came from her song. But this was different. Janey had to know.

She took the peas in the house and said, “If there isn’t anything else for me to do I’d like to go for a walk.”

Her mother nodded, “All right, dear,” and went ahead basting ruffles on curtains.

Janey put on her wide-brimmed hat that she often thought would look beautiful trimmed with big, red roses, and walked briskly down the front steps. She didn’t have a plan yet. She hoped one would come before she reached Andrea’s house. All she knew was that she simply had to do something. Something so that she could sing “God’s in his heaven; All’s right with the world.” So that Andrea and Steve could sing it, too – if they knew it.

She walked the four blocks down to the Cline house, and still had no plan, so she stopped and picked a few rose berries from the bushes that climbed over the fence. For the first time she noticed how shabby the mansion was. The yellow paint had darkened and peeled. The front porch sagged, and the garden was overrun with weeds. All those rooms for just one person, thought Janey. I guess she’ll never be able to sell it, unless someone needs it for a boarding house or a mortuary. But it could sure use a man around.

There was no sound of the piano, so she knew that Andrea wasn’t giving a music lesson. Should she sing, “And day’s at the morn?” She’d have to sing awful loud to be heard above the mail truck coming down the street. There was one thing sure. Pippa didn’t have to compete with motor trucks when she was singing.

She thought once of going inside – but what could she say if she did? She couldn’t very well plead with Andrea not to go to Boston.

She couldn’t stand there picking rose berries all day, so she walked along. She wasn’t quite sure that she had meant to go past the Welling house, but the next thing – there it was.

It looked very small after the Cline mansion, but it was fairly new, and everything, including the garden, was neat and trim. Janey sighed. It was a perfectly darling place, and maybe tile in the bathroom was better than a glass chandelier in the parlor. it would probably be better for them to live here. If nobody would buy the mansion for a mortuary, it could be made into apartments.

She knew well enough there was no need of singing here. The song would do Mrs. Ransome no good, and Steve probably wasn’t home. Anyway, at that moment, there was a shriek from within that would have drowned out all but the very loudest of songs.

Janey walked up to the door. Maybe one of the children had just fallen from the top of the refrigerator. No one answered her knock, and the shrieks were becoming increasingly louder, so she walked in. The two little girls, who looked to be about three and four years of age, were fighting over a doll. There were at least a dozen other toys scattered about, but they were both determined to have that doll. Janey separated the two and consoled one of them with a battered Teddy bear.

“Where’s Mrs. Ransome?” she asked.

“Downstairs,” answered the older child.

Janey was about to go and see if she had, by any chance, fallen down the stairs, when the basement door opened and Mrs. Ransome came into the kitchen.

“Excuse me for walking in,” said Janey. “I knocked, but no one answered, and the children were screaming, so I thought I’d better come in and see if anything was the matter.”

She hoped that Mrs. Ransome wouldn’t ask why she was there in the first place. It would have been a very hard question to answer.

“One of them is always yelling,” shrugged Mrs. Ransome. “Linda wants Gay’s things, and the other way around. I was doing some washing. I have to leave them alone sometimes or I’d never get anything done. All this work and fuss is too much for a woman of my age. I don’t know as I can hold out much longer.”

“You do look awfully tired,” sympathized Janey. “Would you like me to take them for a little walk?”

Mrs. Ransome brightened at once. “I sure would appreciate it. Seems like I just can’t get through the day unless I have a rest of some kind. Maybe I’d even have time to run down to the store.” She looked at the tousled youngsters and sighed. “They ought to be cleaned up, though, only everything they own is in the wash.”

“They’ll be all right,” said Janey quickly. The beginnings of a wonderful plan had just popped into her head. “I’ll take care of them.”

“That’s mighty sweet of you. It’s awful hard for me to get away. I just have to hang up the clothes, and I’ll be through with the washing.”

She plodded off, and Janey turned to the children. “Come on,” she said brightly. “We’re going for a walk.”

She knew that their faces could have done with a washing, but clean faces might be a detriment to her plan. Linda still clung to her rag doll and Gay to the Teddy bear. Janey took hold of the free hand of each.

They had to walk slowly, but came at last to the Cline house. This time there was no hesitation. Janey swung the gate open on its rusty hinges and guided her party up to the front door. She hoped that Andrea was at home. If not, they would have to wait on the porch. There was too much at stake for her to go back now.

She rang the bell and waited breathlessly, as the sound of footsteps came closer. The door opened, and Andrea said with a smile, “Well, Janey, this is a nice surprise. It seems that I have visitors.”

She swung open the screen door and ushered them inside.

“I was just taking the children for a walk, so I thought we’d come in and see you. They wanted a drink,” Janey added, with sudden inspiration.

“Of course. It’s such a warm day. I’ll get them something at once. Do you care for them regularly?” she asked, starting for the door.

“No, just for today. Mrs. Ransome has so much to do that she can’t ever take them for a walk, and they were just dying to get out. Anyway, she’s too old and slow. She can’t even keep them clean – all the time. They’re the Welling children, you know.”

Andrea stopped short for a brief moment, and her cheeks colored lightly. “Oh – I didn’t know,” she said, turning back to look at them again.

Gay stared back with great, solemn eyes. Janey decided that she couldn’t have done better if she had been coached. Linda sat down primly on a footstool and smoothed her doll’s dress.

Presently Andrea came back with glasses of milk and some cookies. “I thought they might like this better than just a drink of water. Anyway, you’re supposed to give company light refreshments,” she said gaily.

“Lovely!” cried Janey. “I’m sure they don’t get cookies very often. I’ll bet they’ve never even tasted homemade ones, like these. I suppose Mrs. Ransome does her best, but she can’t do more than just keep things going. She said today that she didn’t think she could stay there much longer. I guess older women don’t have much patience with children.” She sighed as she patted Gay’s tangled curls.

“I daresay it is difficult,” Andrea agreed.

‘My mother says,” Janey went on, “that Mr. Welling ought to get married again, but that he has too much pride to ask anyone, because they might think it’s just to get a housekeeper. I think pride like that is a terrible thing, don’t you?”

“Yes – I suppose that the wrong kind of pride can cause a lot of heartache,” Andrea agreed slowly.

Janet made her cookie last as long as possible, then remarked, “I guess we ought to be going. I thought maybe I’d take them home for supper tonight. With Mrs. Ransome going to town, there likely won’t be much at their house. Mother is busy canning peas, but there’s always something good and filling. We can go and see, anyway.”

She stood up and was starting for the door, when Andrea said – almost as if she were forcing herself to speak – “I could give them some supper here tonight, if you like. I’m not especially busy.”

“Oh, could you really!” cried Janey quickly. “That would be wonderful. But I’d have to go home and get them some clean dresses. I’d have put them on before, but Mrs. Ransome was just through washing and they weren’t dry enough to iron. I reckon Mr. Welling would just have a conniption if he ever found out I’d taken them away looking like this. Is it all right if I phone him and ask him to pick them up here?”

Janey held her breath. It was the most daring part of her whole plan, and she didn’t know whether she had gone too far or not.

Andrea bit her lip for a moment and then said, “I’ll call him. Perhaps he would like to stay for dinner, too.”

“He works at the Balfour Lumber Company. I’ll run for the clothes right now.”

She hurried down the street and took the dresses from the line. Then she left a note in the door for Mrs. Ransome, telling her that they would all be away for dinner. When she came back she found the little girls with scrubbed faces and smoothly combed hair. Janey ironed the dresses and helped put them on.

“That’s the way they ought to look all the time!” she exclaimed. “Aren’t they just like little dolls?”

“They’re very sweet,” Andrea agreed with a smile.

Janey helped prepare the dinner and kept the children out of the way so that they would be the least possible trouble. She declined an invitation to stay, although she would gladly have given both eye teeth and her Christmas pearls to have done so.

When it was nearly six she said fervently, “It was simply super of you to offer to give this poor family a good home-cooked meal. I’m sure that they’ll never forget it.”

She knew that she ought to go straight home, but she couldn’t resist hiding behind the lilac bush until Steve Welling came. After all, the happiness of four lives was at stake, and she had to know something of how it was going to turn out.

He drove up in his old Chev and stopped at the gate. Then he got out slowly as if it took a lot of courage. All the time Janey stood with her fingers crossed, saying, “Come on, Mr. Welling. Brighten up and leave your silly pride out there in the Chev.”

He opened the gate and seemed to smile at the creak. Must have remembered that, thought Janey. Then he walked up on the porch and rang the bell. She noticed that he didn’t even have to look to see where it was.

There was a tense moment before the door opened. Then Andrea was standing there, looking like a camellia in her pale pink dress and saying in a warm voice that made tingles go up and down Janey’s spine, “Come on in, Steve. It’s good to see you.”

“It’s wonderful to be here,” he replied. He went in, and the door closed. Janet was walking on air as she turned to go.

She opened the gate very carefully so as to subdue the creak. She picked some more rose berries and threw them up high into the maple tree. “The year’s at the spring,” she sang, softly to a surprised robin. “And day’s at the morn. Morning’s at seven …” The six o’clock whistle blew. It was suppertime. Mother would have a conniption.