Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch
Copyright© 2024 by Alice Caldwell Hegan Rice
Chapter 11: The Benefit Dance
“Those there are whose hearts have a slope southward,
and are open to the whole noon of Nature.”
NOTWITHSTANDING the fact that calamities seldom come singly, it was not until the Fourth of July that the Cabbage Patch was again the scene of an accident.
Mrs. Wiggs had been hanging out clothes, and was turning to pick up the empty basket, when Billy precipitated himself into the yard, yelling wildly:
“Chris Hazy’s broke his leg!”
Mrs. Wiggs threw up her hands in horror. “Good lands, Billy! Where’s he at?”
“They ‘re bringin’ him up the railroad track.”
Mrs. Wiggs rushed into the house. “Don’t let on to Miss Hazy till we git him in,” she cautioned, snatching up a bundle of rags and a bottle of liniment. “Pore chile! How it must hurt him! I’ll run down the track an’ meet ‘em.”
She was breathless and trembling from excitement as she turned the corner at Mrs. Schultz’s. A crowd of boys were coming up the track, trundling a wheelbarrow, in which sat Chris Hazy, the merriest of the lot, waving a piece of his wooden leg in the air.
Mrs. Wiggs turned upon Billy;
“I never lied, ma! I said he broke his leg,” the boy gasped out as best he could for laughing, “an’ you never ast which one. Oh, boys! Git on to the rags an’ arniky!”
Such a shout went up that Mrs. Wiggs laughed with the rest, but only for a moment, for she spied Miss Hazy tottering toward them, and she hastened forward to relieve her anxiety.
“It’s his peg-stick!” she shouted. “P-e-g-stick!”
This information, instead of bringing relief to Miss Hazy, caused a fresh burst of tears. She sat down on the track, with her apron over her face, and swayed backward and forward.
“Don’t make much difference which one ‘t was,” she sobbed; “it would be ‘bout as easy to git another sure-’nough leg as to git a new wooden one. That las’ one cost seven dollars. I jes’ sewed an’ saved an’ scrimped to git it, an’ now it’s—busted!”
The boys stood around in silent sympathy, and when nobody was looking Chris wiped his eyes on his coat sleeve. Miss Hazy’s arrival had changed their point of view.
Mrs. Wiggs rose to the occasion.
“Boys,” she said, and her voice had an inspiring ring, “I’ll tell you what let’s do! Let’s give a benefit dance to-night, an’ buy Chris Hazy a new peg-stick. Every feller that’s willin’ to help, hol’ up his hand.”
A dozen grimy hands were waved on high, and offers of assistance came from all sides. Mrs. Wiggs saw that now was the time to utilize their enthusiasm.
“I’ll go right back to the house, an’ git Asia to write out the tickets, an’ all you boys kin sell ten apiece. Miss Hazy, you kin come over an’ help me git the house ready, an’ we’ll put Chris to cleanin’ lamp-chimbleys.”
Under this able generalship, the work was soon under way; the boys were despatched with the tickets, and the house was being put straight—at least the parlor was. It would have required many days to restore order to the chaos that habitually existed in the house of Wiggs.
“Asia, you help me roll these here barrels out on the porch, an’ I ‘ll mop up the floor,” said Mrs. Wiggs. “Miss Hazy, you look ‘round in the kitchen, an’ see if you can’t find a taller candle. Seems like I put one in the sugar-bowl—that’s it! Now, if you’ll jes’ cut it up right fine it’ll be all ready to put on the floor when I git done.”
When the floor was dry and the candle sprinkled over it, Australia and Europena were detailed to slide upon it until it became slick.
“Would you ast ever’body to bring a cheer, or would you have ‘em already here?” asked Mrs. Wiggs.
“Oh, le’ ‘s bring ‘em ourselves!” insisted Asia, who had been to a church social.
So a raid was made on the neighborhood, and every available chair borrowed and ranged against the parlor wall.
By noon the boys reported most of the tickets sold, and Mrs. Wiggs received the funds, which amounted to six dollars.
It being a holiday, everybody was glad to come to the dance, especially as the proceeds were to help little Miss Hazy.
At one time there threatened to be trouble about the music; some wanted Uncle Tom, the old negro who usually fiddled at the dances, and others preferred to patronize home talent and have Jake Schultz, whose accordion could be heard at all hours in the Cabbage Patch.
Mrs. Wiggs effected a compromise. “They kin take turn about,” she argued; “when one gits tired, the other kin pick up right where he left oft, an’ the young folks kin shake the’r feet till they shoes drop off. Uncle Tom an’ Jake, too, is a heap sight better than them mud-gutter bands that play ‘round the streets.”
“Wisht we could fix the yard up some,” said Asia, when there was nothing more to be done in the parlor.
“I got a Japanee lantern,” suggested Miss Hazy, doubtfully.
“The very thing!” said Mrs. Wiggs. “We’ll hang it in the front door. Billy’s makin’ a Jack o’ lantern to set on the fence. Fer the land’s sake! what’s John Bagby a-bringing’ in here?”
The grocery boy, staggering under the weight of an ice-cream freezer and carrying something wrapped in white paper, came up the path.
“It’s fer you,” he said, grinning broadly. John was cross-eyed, so Miss Hazy thought he looked at Mrs. Wiggs, and Mrs. Wiggs thought he looked at Miss Hazy.