Good Charlotte. Carol Beach York
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Copyright © 1969 by Carol Beach York.
All rights reserved.
Published by Wildside Press LLC
This story is affectionately dedicated to
AGNES ERICKSON
Mrs. Singlittle Takes Charge
It was a dark and gloomy day. All the old brick houses around Butterfield Square seemed to be hunched and huddled in the cold and misty rain. The streets were deserted. No one was out on such a day. Even the trees looked forlorn. All afternoon the rain fell, wetting the sidewalks and black iron fences, trickling down the windowpanes, spattering against the sign at Number 18: THE GOOD DAY ORPHANAGE FOR GIRLS.
Inside The Good Day a fire burned in the parlor fireplace, and some very good smells were coming from the kitchen where Cook was baking pumpkin pies and macaroni.
But the cozy fireside and warm kitchen were deserted. Everyone was in the large front hallway: Cook in her apron; all the twenty-eight Good Day girls in their blue dresses and white collars, black shoes, and long black stockings; Miss Lavender and Miss Plum, the ladies who took care of the girls; and a large, round-faced woman whose name was Mrs. Singlittle.
The hall was crowded, and the noise was tremendous with all twenty-eight little girls hopping about and talking at once. But no one said to the girls, “Hush now, we must be quiet.” For an unexpected thing was happening — something that had never happened before.
Miss Lavender and Miss Plum were going away for a whole two weeks’ vacation. They were going together, and that was what had never happened before.
Miss Plum’s nephew Reginald was going to be married, and Miss Lavender and Miss Plum were traveling on a train to go to the wedding. Their suitcases were full of nice things to eat while they traveled, and books to read, and presents wrapped in tissue paper for all of Miss Plum’s relatives. And there was one especially large package with a bow as big as a cabbage: That was the wedding present. It was a silver dish so shiny that you could see your face in it. All the girls had watched as Miss Lavender wrapped up the dish and Miss Plum tied on the big ribbon.
The girls wished they were going to see Reginald and all of Miss Plum’s relatives and the wedding. But, still, it was exciting to be left behind without either Miss Lavender or Miss Plum.
Mrs. Singlittle opened the front door and stuck her large ruddy face into the rain and mist. “What a dismal day,” she announced, as though the others might not have noticed. Mrs. Singlittle was going to take care of the girls while Miss Lavender and Miss Plum were away. She was full of energy and eager to begin.
Miss Lavender was so flustered and excited that she could not seem to find anything she needed.
“Where is my glove?” she asked. “My left glove is gone!” After finding her left glove, and her handbag, and her umbrella, she almost left without her suitcase.
Miss Plum was a good deal calmer, and she had her gloves and handbag and umbrella well under control. She stood straight and serene, as tall and thin as Miss Lavender was short and plump. Miss Plum kissed each one of the twenty-eight little girls good-bye with a special word for each:
“Now, Little Ann, stay out of Cook’s way; Elsie May, you are oldest and you must help Mrs. Singlittle; good-bye, Nonnie, remember to practice your piano every day; Phoebe, I hope to see that your toothbrush chart is full of checks when I return. . . .”
On she went, saying something special to everyone . . . until she reached the very last of all. Miss Plum could not help smiling as she pushed the dark hair back from the last little girl’s forehead. Large dark eyes stared up at Miss Plum from under the hair.
“Good-bye, Tatty —” Miss Plum paused. There were so many instructions she should give to Tatty. Where could she begin? Don’t forget to make your bed . . . don’t forget to wash your hands before meals . . . try to keep your hair combed and your stockings pulled up and your dress clean . . . study your spelling words and sit up straight at the table and don’t lose your mittens. . . . Where to begin indeed? At last Miss Plum only kissed Tatty and said, “We’ll be thinking about you.”
“Here comes your taxicab,” Mrs. Singlittle cried as a yellow car appeared through the rain, a solitary sight upon the deserted street.
Out went Miss Lavender and Miss Plum, their umbrellas opened. Elsie May and two other girls followed behind carrying the suitcases. When Miss Plum and Miss Lavender were all tucked away in the taxicab, the girls ran back to the house. They watched with the others as the cab went away through the rain and was soon out of sight.
No one knew it, but a small gold pin in the shape of a butterfly had fallen from Miss Lavender’s coat (probably not fastened securely by Miss Lavender in her excitement). The pin lay at the edge of the walk by the gate, splashed with raindrops, but no one noticed.
“Good-bye, good-bye,” the girls called one last time as Mrs. Singlittle closed the door.
It seemed very quiet in the hall, after all the bustle and hubbub of Miss Plum and Miss Lavender’s getting ready to go.
“Well,” said Cook, clearing her throat and sniffing, “I guess I’ll get back to my pies —”
The girls stood about aimlessly, feeling rather shy and strange to be left alone with Mrs. Singlittle.
Mrs. Singlittle seemed to be the only one who was not at a loss for something to do. “Come along, girls,” she said. “We are going to get acquainted.” She clapped her hands and all her rings flashed in the lamplight. “Follow me.” And she led the way into the parlor.
Only Tatty did not hear. She had drawn aside one of the lace curtains at the long thin window beside the door and was looking far off down the square into the rain. Already she had begun to miss Miss Lavender and Miss Plum.
Good Charlotte
The next thing Tatty knew, the hall was quiet and empty. No one was there except herself. From the parlor she could hear Mrs. Singlittle’s voice:
“Now we have time to get acquainted before supper.”
As though a thunderbolt had struck her, Tatty remembered where she was and what she was supposed to be doing. She scurried as fast as she could go toward the parlor door. Miss Lavender and Miss Plum had not been gone two minutes, Tatty thought, and already she was in trouble. She hesitated at the parlor door and was just stepping in timidly when Mrs. Singlittle said, “Will someone close that door, please?”
Mrs. Singlittle had her back to the parlor door as she spoke. Tatty closed the door as she stepped in, and just at that moment Mrs. Singlittle turned. Her face lighted with pleasure to see her request obeyed so promptly.
“Ah, there’s a good girl,” Mrs. Singlittle said. She beckoned Tatty to come to her. Tatty went obediently, wishing she had remembered to pull up her stockings and find her hair ribbon.
“What is your name?” asked Mrs. Singlittle.
“Tatty,” the little girl answered.
“Tatty?” Mrs. Singlittle cocked her head to one side to decide what she thought of that. Then she bent down.
“Tatty,” she said again. “What kind of a name is that?”
“It’s short for Charlotte,” Tatty said. She was fascinated by the smell of perfume and the sight of Mrs. Singlittle’s plump pink face coming closer and closer to her.
“Charlotte!” Mrs. Singlittle exclaimed, and everyone jumped.
“Charlotte,” she said a second time, only a little less loudly. “That’s one of the most beautiful names in the world.”
Tatty stared at Mrs. Singlittle. No one had ever told her that.
“Much too pretty not