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"She can live in New Hamps.h.i.+re on that account," said Uncle Joe.
"That isn't fair," said Peggy. "I ought to be able to live in New Hamps.h.i.+re."
"You can if you like--or in New York, or New Jersey, or New Mexico."
Peggy was dazzled by these opportunities for travel.
"It isn't a bit fair," said Christopher. "Poor Diana oughtn't to have to live in Delaware when Peggy and Alice have such a lot of States to choose from."
"It doesn't seem quite fair," Uncle Joe admitted. "I'll have to let Diana live in a State beginning with a C if she prefers."
"And I am C. C., so I don't have much choice," said Christopher.
"When I get my map of Delaware painted and fixed and I've lived there awhile, I'll come and live in Colorado with you, Christopher."
"I'm going to begin with Pennsylvania," said Peggy. "I'm going to play the game in the right way. But where can Uncle Joe live? In Jersey with the New left off?"
"As I'm uncle to half the children I know, I feel justified in taking up my residence in the State of Utah," he said.
"Mother," Diana called out, as Mrs. Carter pa.s.sed the door, "do come in; you can live in any of eight States, beginning with an M--Maine, Ma.s.sachusetts--"
"My mother can, too," Peggy interrupted. "Her name is Mary. What is your mother's name?"
"Her name is Mary, too."
The two little girls wondered at the coincidence.
"Tom can only live in Tennessee or Texas," said Diana.
"I'm going to live in Texas," said Tom. "Uncle Joe has been there. He said he saw a prairie fire once and it looked like the waves of the sea. And at the ranch where he was, the turkeys roosted in trees and the moon looked as big as a cart wheel."
The children were soon busy tracing their States and cutting them out.
Alice found New Hamps.h.i.+re so hard to do that she was sorry she had not chosen Alabama, but she would not let anybody know this on any account.
She painted New Hamps.h.i.+re a delicate shade of pink. Peggy painted Pennsylvania a blue that shaded in with her blue frock. Diana painted Delaware green, and Tom chose crimson for Texas, the color of the college he hoped to go to some day.
"I was going to paint Colorado crimson," said Christopher.
"You can't," said Tom. "I have chosen crimson."
"Can't I paint Colorado crimson, Uncle Joe?"
"If you like. I think I'll paint Utah orange, so as to have as much variety as possible on the map."
"That is a good idea," said Christopher; "I'll paint Colorado yellow."
Alice and Peggy were so interested in the game that they played it every morning when they first waked up, and they got so they could say the forty-eight States while they were putting on their shoes and stockings.
It amused them to see which States their different friends could live in.
They felt there were very few children and still fewer grown people who ought to be told the game. It was like a secret society. Some people were so scornful they would think it silly, and they did not care enough about most people to let them into the secret. Mrs. Owen thought it a good game, but she was too busy to play it. Age did not seem to make any difference. Old Michael, for instance, took to it very kindly.
Peggy sat in the wheelbarrow one day while he was raking leaves and she explained the game to him.
"You are very lucky," she ended, "for you can live in so many States--Maine, Ma.s.sachusetts--" she began; and she said over the whole eight, ending with Minnesota.
"I think I'll try Minnesoty for a change," said the old man. "I've a cousin who went out to St. Paul. Will you be my grandchild and come and keep house for me?"
"I'd love to, Mr. Farrell, but I have to live in Pennsylvania. I'm learning all about William Penn and Independence Hall in Philadelphia, and Betsy Ross, who made the first flag, so I can tell it to Uncle Joe when he comes back. And I have to read about New Hamps.h.i.+re to Alice, so I'm quite busy. Did you know it was called the Granite State, Mr.
Farrell?"
"I have heard tell as much."
"Oh, Mr. Farrell," said Peggy hopping up, "do let me try to rake the leaves. They dance about as if they were at a party. What does Mrs.
Farrell's name begin with--can she go to Minnesota with you?"
"Her name is Hattie. I guess my old woman will have to stay right here in New Hamps.h.i.+re. It is hard to break up families that way. My old woman and I haven't been separated for forty-two years, come Christmas."
Miss Betsy Porter was another of Peggy's friends who was greatly interested in the game. Peggy often dropped in to see her and her cat.
Miss Betsy Porter always had something very good and spicy to eat. This time it was spice cake. Peggy was on her way back from the village with some b.u.t.tons and tape for her mother, so she could not stop long. Miss Porter thought it a grand game.
"Only, I am a woman without a country," she said. "There are no States beginning with B, and I can't even come in on Elizabeth."
"You can come in on your last name," said Peggy. "You can live in Pennsylvania with me."
"That is great. I went to Philadelphia once when I was a girl." And she told the eagerly listening Peggy all about the Quaker city with its straight streets and its old buildings.
"I am afraid if your mother is in a hurry for those b.u.t.tons and that tape," said Miss Betsy, "you'd better be going home now, but some afternoon when you can stay longer I'll read you a book about some of the signers of the Declaration of Independence."
"What a lucky child I am to have my name begin with a P," Peggy said.
"There can't be any other State as interesting as Pennsylvania."
CHAPTER XII
HOW PEGGY SPENT HER MONEY
As Peggy was going out of Miss Betsy's kitchen door, some hens straggled along the gra.s.s. Some were brown and some were white and some were yellow. Peggy thought they were all fat, prosperous-looking hens. She admired their red combs and their yellow legs.
"I wish we had some hens," she said to Miss Betsy. "Eggs cost such a lot we can't ever have any cake."
"I'd give you some fresh eggs to take back to your mother, only I am afraid you might slip and break them."
Peggy looked thoughtful. It would be nice to have the eggs, but it would be hard to have to walk home with the eggs on her mind.
"Mother, I wish we kept hens," she said as she ran into the kitchen.
"Miss Betsy has such nice ones."