The Friendship Of Alanna, Part Two Of Two

In the final part of Kathleen Norris's delightful story about Alanna, we find out what happens when Margaret's father comes home. We also learn what Margaret decides to do about her exhibition dress - a daring solution that causes a real flutter among all the girls and their teachers.

Music by William King.

Transcript

Hello,

It's Mandy here.

Welcome back to the Kathleen Norris story,

The Friendship of Alana.

Tonight we're listening to the second and final part.

But before I begin,

Please feel free to make yourself really comfortable.

Before I begin,

Please feel free to make yourself really comfortable.

Okay,

Part two.

But it was only a day later that Teresa and Alana returned from school with faces filled with expressions of utter woe.

Indignant,

Protesting,

Tearful,

They burst forth the instant they reached their mother's sympathetic presence with the bitter tale of the day's happenings.

Margaret Hammond's father had come home again,

It appeared,

And he was awfully,

Awfully cross with Margaret and Jo.

They weren't to come to the Costellos anymore,

Or he'd whip them.

And Margaret had been crying,

And they had been crying,

And sister didn't know what was the matter,

And they couldn't tell her,

And the rehearsal was no fun.

While their feeling was still at its height,

Dan and Jimmy came in,

Equally roused by their enforced estrangement from Jo Hammond.

Mrs Costello was almost as much distressed as the children,

And excited and mutinous argument held the Costello dinner table that night.

The mayor,

His wife noticed,

Paid very close attention to the conversation,

But didn't allude to it until they were alone.

So Hammond'll take no favours from me,

Molly.

I suppose that's it,

Frank.

Perhaps he's been nursing a grudge all these weeks.

But it's cruel hard on the children.

From his coming back this way,

I don't doubt he's out of work,

And where Margaret'll get her white dress from now on,

I don't know.

Well,

If he don't provide it,

Tess'll recite the salutation,

Said the mayor,

With a great air of philosophy.

But a second later he added,

You couldn't have it finished up now and send it to the child on the chance.

His wife shook her head despondently,

And for several days went about with a little worried look in her bright eyes,

And a constant dread of the news that Margaret Hammond had dropped out of the exhibition.

Margaret was sad,

The little girls said,

And evidently missing them as they missed her.

But up to the very night of the dress rehearsal,

She gave no sign of worry on the subject of a white dress.

Mrs Costello had offered her immense parlours for the last rehearsal of the chief performers in the plays and tableau,

Realising that even the most obligingly blind of mother's superiors could not appear to ignore the gathering of some fifty girls in their gala dresses in the convent hall.

Alanna and Teresa were gloriously excited over the prospect,

And flitted about the empty rooms on the evening appointed,

Buzzing like eager bees.

Presently a few of the nuns arrived,

Escorting a score of little girls,

And briskly ready for an evening of serious work.

Then some of the older girls,

Carrying their musical instruments,

Came in laughing.

Laughter and talk began to make the big house hum,

The nuns ruling the confusion,

Gathering girls into groups,

Suppressing the hilarity that would break out over and over again,

And anxious to clear a corner and begin the actual work.

A tall girl,

Leaning on the piano,

Scribbled a crude programme,

Murmuring to the alert-faced nun beside her,

As she wrote,

Yes,

Sister,

And then the mandolins and guitars.

Yes,

Sister,

And then Mary Kodahi's recitation.

Yes,

Sister.

Is that too near Loretta's song?

All right,

Sister,

The French play can go in between,

And then Loretta.

Yes,

Sister.

Of course Margaret will come,

Tess.

Oh,

Has she come?

Said Mrs Costello,

Who was hastily clearing a table in the family sitting room upstairs,

Because it was needed for the stage setting.

Teresa,

Who had just joined her mother,

Was breathless.

Mother,

Something awful has happened.

Mrs Costello carefully transferred to the bookcase the lamp she had just lifted,

Dusted her hands together,

And turned eyes,

Full of sympathetic interest,

Upon her oldest daughter.

Teresa's tragedies were very apt to be of the spirit,

And had not the sensational urgency that alarms from the boys or Alanna commanded.

What is it then,

Darling?

Said she.

Oh,

It's Margaret,

Mother.

Teresa clasped her hands in an ecstasy of apprehension.

Oh,

Mother,

Can't you make her take that white dress?

Mrs Costello sat down heavily,

Her kind eyes full of regret.

What more can I do,

Tess?

Then,

With a grave head shake,

She's told sister Rose she has to drop out.

Oh,

No,

Mother,

Teresa said distressfully.

It's worse than that.

She's here and she's rehearsing.

And what do you think she's wearing for an exhibition dress?

Well,

How would I know,

Tess,

With you doing nothing but bemoaning and bewildering me,

Asked her mother,

With a sort of resigned despair.

Don't go round and round it,

Dovey.

What is it at all?

It's a white dress,

Said Teresa desperately.

And of course it's pretty.

And at first I couldn't think where I'd seen it before.

And I don't believe any of the other girls did.

But they will.

And I don't know what sister will say.

She's wearing Jo Hammond's surplus.

Yes,

But she is,

Mother.

It's as long as a dress,

You know,

And with a blue sash and all.

It's one of the lace ones that Mrs Dean gave all the altar boys a year ago.

Don't you remember?

She made almost all of them too small.

Mrs Costello sat in stunned silence.

I never heard the like,

Said she pleasantly.

Teresa's fears awakened anew.

Oh,

Will sister let her wear it,

Do you think,

Mother?

Well,

I don't know,

Tess.

Mrs Costello was plainly at a loss.

Whatever could have made her think of it,

The poor child?

I'm afraid it'll make talk,

She added after a moment's troubled silence.

And I don't know what to do.

I wish,

Finished she,

Half to herself,

That I could get hold of her father for about one minute.

What would you do,

Demanded Teresa eagerly in utter faith?

Well,

I couldn't do anything,

Said her mother with her wholesome laugh.

Come,

Tess,

She added.

We'll go down.

Don't worry,

Dear.

We'll find some way out of it for Margaret.

She entered the parlours with her usual genial smile a few minutes later and the flow of conversation that never failed her.

Mary,

You'd ought always to wear that Greek-looking dress,

Said Mrs Costello,

En passant.

Sister,

If you don't want me in any of the dances,

I'll take myself out of your way.

No,

Indeed,

The mayor won't be annoyed by anything,

Girls,

So go ahead with your duets.

He's taken the boys off to the Orpheum an hour ago.

The way they couldn't be at their tricks upsetting everything.

And presently she laid her hand on Margaret Hammond's shoulder.

Are they working you too hard,

Margaret?

Margaret's answer was smiling and ready,

But Mrs Costello read more truthfully the colour on the little face and the distress in the bright eyes raised to hers and sighed as she found a big chair and settled herself contentedly to watch and listen.

Margaret was wearing Jo's surplus.

There was no doubt of that.

But,

Mrs Costello wondered,

How many of the nuns and girls had noticed it?

She looked shrewdly from one group to another,

Studying the different faces and worried herself with the fancy that certain undertones and quick glances were commenting on the dress.

It was a relief when Margaret slipped out of it and with the other girls assumed the Greek costume she was to wear in the play.

The mayor's wife,

Automatically replacing the drawing string in a cream-coloured toga lavishly trimmed with gold paper braid,

Welcomed the little respite from her close watching.

By Nero's command was presently in full swing and the room echoed to stately phrases and glorious sentiments in the high-pitched clear voices of the small performers.

Several minutes of these made all the more startling a normal tone,

Margaret Hammond's everyday voice saying sharply in a silence,

Well then,

Why don't you say it?

There was an instant hush,

And then another voice,

That of a girl named Beatrice Garvey,

Answered sullenly and loudly,

I will say it if you want me to.

The words were followed by a shocked silence.

Everyone turned to see the two small girls in the centre of the improvised stage.

The other performers drawing back instinctively.

Mrs Costello caught her breath and half rose from her chair.

She had heard,

As all the girls knew,

That Beatrice did not like Margaret and resented the prominence that Margaret had been given in the play.

She guessed,

With a quickening pulse,

What Beatrice had said.

What is the trouble,

Girls?

Said Sister Rose's clear voice severely.

Margaret,

Crimson-cheeked,

Breathing hard,

Faced the room defiantly.

She was a gallant and pathetic little figure in her blue draperies.

The other child was plainly frightened at the result of the quarrel.

Beatrice,

Said the nun unyieldingly,

Beatrice,

Said the nun unyieldingly.

She said I was a thief,

Said Margaret chokingly,

As Beatrice did not answer.

There was a general horrified gasp.

The nun's own voice,

When she spoke again,

Was angry and quick.

Beatrice,

Did you say that to Margaret?

I said,

I said.

.

.

Beatrice was frightened but aggrieved too.

I said I thought it was wrong to wear a surplus that was made to wear on the altar as an exhibition dress.

And Margaret said,

Why?

And I said,

Because I thought it was something I wouldn't say.

And Margaret did say,

Did I mean stealing?

And I said,

Well,

Yes I did.

And then Margaret said right out,

Well,

If you think I'm a thief,

Why don't you say so?

Nobody stirred.

The case had reached the open court and no little girl present could have given a verdict to save her little soul.

But,

But the nun was bewildered.

But whoever did wear a surplus for an exhibition dress?

I never heard of such a thing.

Something in the silence was suddenly significant.

She turned her gaze from the room,

Where it had been seeking intelligence from the other nuns and the older girls,

And looked back at the stage.

Margaret Hammond had dropped her proud little head and her eyes were hidden by the tangle of soft dark hair.

Had Sister Rose needed further evidence,

The shocked faces of all about would have supplied it.

Margaret,

She said,

Were you going to wear Jo's surplus?

Margaret didn't answer.

I'm sure,

Sister,

I didn't mean.

.

.

Stammered Beatrice.

Her voice died out uncomfortably.

Why were you going to do that,

Margaret?

Pursued the nun,

Quite at a loss.

Again,

Margaret didn't answer.

But Alana Costello,

Who had worked her way from a scandalised crowd of little girls to Margaret's side,

And who stood now with her small face one blaze of indignation,

And her small person barely vibrating with the violence of her breathing,

Spoke out suddenly.

Her brave little voice rang through the room.

Well,

Well,

Stammered Alana eagerly.

That's not a bad thing to do.

Me and Margaret were both going to do it,

Weren't we,

Margaret?

We didn't think it would be bad to wear our own brother's surpluses,

Did we,

Margaret?

I was going to ask my mother if we couldn't.

Jo's is too little for him and Leo's would be just right for me,

And they're white and pretty.

She hesitated a second,

Her loyal little hand clasping Margaret's tight,

Her eyes ranging the room gravely.

She met her mother's look and gained fresh impetus from what she saw there.

And mother wouldn't have minded,

Would you,

Mother?

She finished triumphantly.

Everyone wheeled to face Mrs Costello,

Whose look,

As she rose,

Was all indulgent.

Well,

Sister,

I don't see why they shouldn't,

Began her comfortable voice.

The tension over the room snapped at the sound of it like a cut string.

After all,

She pursued,

Now joining the heart of the group,

A surplus is a thing you make in the house like any other dress,

And you know how girls feel about the things their brothers wear,

Especially if they love them.

Why,

Said Mrs Costello,

With a delightful smile that embraced the room,

There never were sisters more devoted than Margaret and Maya Llama.

However,

And now a business-like tone crept in,

However,

Sister dear,

If you or mother superior has the slightest objection in the world,

Why,

That's enough for us all,

Isn't it,

Girls?

We'll leave it to you,

Sister,

You're the one to judge.

In the look the two women exchanged,

They reached a perfect understanding.

I think it's very lovely,

Said sister Rose,

Calmly,

To think of a little girl so devoted to her brother as Margaret is.

I could ask superior,

Of course,

Mary,

She added to Mrs Costello,

But I know she would feel that whatever you decide is quite right.

So that's settled,

Isn't it,

Girls?

Yes,

Sister,

Said a dozen relieved voices,

The speakers glad to chorus assent whether the situation in the least concerned them or not.

Teresa and some of the other girls had gathered about Margaret and a soothing purr of conversation surrounded them.

Mrs Costello lingered for a few satisfied moments and then returned to her chair.

Come now,

Girls,

Hurry,

Said sister Rose,

Take your places and let this be a lesson to us not to judge too hastily and uncharitably.

Where were we?

Oh yes,

We'll go back to where Grace comes in and says to Teresa,

Here,

Even in the emperor's very palace,

Just there,

Come,

Grace.

I knew if we all prayed about it,

Your father would let you,

Exulted Teresa the following afternoon when Margaret Hammond was about to run down the wide steps of the Costello house in the gathering dusk.

The mayor came into the entrance hall,

His coat pocket bulging with papers and his silk hat on the back of his head to find his wife and daughters bidding the guests goodbye.

He was enthusiastically informed of the happy change of event.

Father,

Said Teresa,

Before fairly freed from his arms and his kiss,

Margaret's father said she could have her white dress and Margaret came home with us after rehearsal and we'd been having such fun.

And Margaret's father sent you a nice message,

Frank,

Said his wife significantly.

Well,

That's fine.

Your father and I had a good talk today,

Margaret,

Said the mayor cordially.

I had to be down by the bridge and I hunted him up.

He'll tell you about it.

He's going to lend me a hand at the shop,

The way I won't be so busy.

It is an awful thing when a man loses his wife,

He added soberly a moment later as they watched the little figure run down the darkening street.

But now we're all good friends again,

Aren't we,

Mother?

Said Alana's buoyant little voice.

Her mother tipped her face up and kissed her.

You're a good friend.

That I know,

Alana,

Said she.

Reviews

Sweet story about good people. The world could use more of this right now. Thanks for sharing Mandy🙏🏻