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CHAPTER VII

“I’ve got a sewing-machine that I know the kinks of,” said Mrs. Fields to Celia and Charlotte and the baby, who regarded her with interest from the couch, where they were grouped.  “The doctor’s going to be away all day to-morrow, and if you’ll all come over, we can get through a lot of little clothes for the baby.  Land knows she ain’t anyway fixed for going outdoors in all kinds of weather, the way the doctor wants her to.”

This was so true that it carried weight in spite of the difficulties in the way.  So before he went off to school on a certain February morning, Jeff had carried Celia across to Mrs. Field’s sitting-room, and by ten o’clock three busy people were at work.  Captain Rayburn had begged to be of the party, and although Mrs. Fields received with skepticism his declaration that he could do various sorts of sewing with a sufficient degree of skill, she allowed him to come, on condition that he look after the baby.

“Well, for the land’s sake!” cried the forewoman of the sewing brigade, as she opened the big bundle Captain Rayburn had brought with him.  “I should say you haven’t left much for us to do!”

The captain regarded with complacency the finished garments she was holding up.

“Yes,” said he, “I telephoned the big children’s supply shop to send me what Miss Ellen would need for out-of-doors.  It seemed a pity to have her stay in another day, waiting to be sewed up.  Aren’t they right?  I thought the making of her indoor clothes would be enough.”

Celia and Charlotte were exclaiming with delight over the pretty, wadded white coat which Mrs. Fields held aloft.  There was a little furry hood to match, mittens, and a pair of leggings of the sort desirable for small travellers.

“If he hasn’t remembered everything!” cried Mrs. Fields, when this last article of apparel came to view.  “Well, sir, I won’t say you haven’t saved us quite a chore.  I’ve got the little flannel petticoats all cut out.  Doctor Churchill bought flannel enough to keep her covered from now till she’s five years old.  Talk about economy—­when a man goes shopping!”

Mrs. Fields plunged into business with a will.  The sewing-machine hummed ceaselessly.  Celia, with rapid, skillful fingers, kept pace with her in basting and putting together, and Charlotte—­well, Charlotte did her best.  Meanwhile Captain Rayburn and the baby explored together mysterious realms of pockets and picture-books.

“For the land’s sake, Miss Charlotte!” cried Mrs. Fields, suddenly, in the middle of the morning.  “If you ain’t made five left sleeves and only one right!”

Charlotte looked up, crimsoning.  “How could I have done it?”

“Easy enough.”  Mrs. Field’s expression softened instantly at sight of the girl’s dismay.  “I’ve done it a good many times.  Something about it—­sleeves act bewitched.  They seem bound to hang together and be all one kind or all the other, anything but pairs.”