CHAPTER IX
PENELOPE UNBENDS
Caroline went up to bed at half past eight in a happy daze. She hadplayed for ever so long in the parlor that at last was quite dark, Lisztand Brahms, simple arrangements, of course, which her mother hadselected for her and then she had improvised rapturously, enjoying thatpiano as a man who has gone thirsty for hours in the heat may enjoy (tooweak a word!) a draft of cool water.
At last Aunt Eunice had come and turned on the lights and told her itwas bed time. Was she afraid to go to bed alone?
Caroline smiled vaguely and said: "No!"
Then with Aunt Eunice's kiss on her cheek, she went up the stairs to herwonderful room. She found a shaded electric light turned on, thebedcover folded, the bedclothes turned down. A fresh nightgown from thesuitcase lay on the bed, and the blue leather traveling-case was on thedressing-table.
Caroline undressed Mildred and put her in the fresh white bed. Oh, sucha contrast that bed was to the stuffy berth on the train, and therumpled bed with the thin mattress, all in lumps, that she had sharedwith the oldest baby (fat and a terrible crowder!) at Cousin Delia's.
Then she went into the spick and span bathroom, and drew her ownbath--all the hot water she wanted. At Cousin Delia's the hot watersupply had had a bad trick of giving out after the four babies werebathed and before it came Caroline's turn. But here there was hot waterand cold water and three kinds of soap. Caroline bathed luxuriously, anddried herself on one of the huge soft towels and slipped on the freshnightgown (Jacqueline's nightgown!). Then she faced a problem that hadworried her, off and on, for the last half hour.
Toothbrush!
Of course the one in the blue leather traveling-case was Jacqueline's.But to go to bed without washing one's teeth seemed to Carolineimpossible. She decided to look in the medicine closet. Perhaps shewould find in it some sort of mouth-wash that would help her through thenight, and then next day, with the money that was left in Jacqueline'spurse, she would buy a toothbrush.
There were all sorts of things in that Mother Robinson's bag of amedicine closet; several kinds of fresh smelling soap in paper wrappers,rolls of cotton, bottles of sweet oil and mouth-wash, boracic acid andtoilet-water. There were rolls of adhesive and jars of cold cream,papers of pins and crystal clear eye cups. There were also a couple oftoothbrushes sealed in transparent paper cases.
Caroline looked and longed. At last she took one of the sealed brushesin her hand and went to the door that was opposite the door into her ownroom. Sallie had said something about this door's opening into someone's else room, and she must always leave it unlocked, when she wentout of the bathroom.
Caroline knocked at the door. She hoped that Aunt Eunice would open toher, but instead it was Cousin Penelope in a loose lacy gown, whoappeared on the threshold.
"I'm sorry," faltered Caroline.
"No matter," said Penelope, coolly but not unkindly. "I was only readinga silly book. What is it?"
"Could I--could I have this toothbrush?" hesitated Caroline. She feltguiltily that she must make some explanation, so she added: "I don'twant to use the one--the one I brought off the train."
"You're like me," said Penelope, as if she were pleased with theresemblance. "I always want to throw away everything that I've used inthe dirty cars. Of course, take the toothbrush, Jacqueline. Takeanything you wish from the medicine closet. My own personal things Ikeep on my dressing-table."
"Thank you very much," said Caroline.
She stood there, shy and solemn, in the little short-sleeved,square-necked nightgown. She hardly knew whether to turn away or tolinger. Because Cousin Penelope did not turn away.
Cousin Penelope seemed trying to speak, and apparently she did not findit easy.
"Jacqueline," she brought out the words suddenly, "how long haveyou--taken lessons on the piano?"
"Always," said Caroline truthfully, "except last winter."
"Of course," the thought flashed through Penelope's mind, "theyneglected her music at that horrid school where Edith Delane senther--to get rid of her." But what she said aloud to Caroline was: "Whotaught you?"
No doubt Caroline ought to have said, "My mother," and betrayed thewhole deception that Jacqueline had led her into practicing. But ittakes courage to destroy a lovely world in which, however undeservedly,one is very happy, especially when the destruction of that world wouldleave one cowering, a guilty wretch, before such a judge as CousinPenelope, with her serene, high forehead.
"A--a lady taught me," Caroline told a half-truth.
"She must have been quite a good teacher."
Caroline nodded. The tears were near her eyelids.
"Folks called her a very good teacher," she whispered. "She's dead now."
"Loyal and affectionate," thought Penelope. "That's the Gildersleeveblood in her." Aloud she went on, with a change of subject, toCaroline's great relief: "There's a Polish lady spending the summer herein Longmeadow. She's a really exceptional pianist. I believe if I askedher----How would you like to have some lessons from her this summer?"
Caroline clasped her hands upon the toothbrush.
"Oh, I'd love it like anything--but I--I couldn't--it--it wouldcost--lots."
Penelope lifted her brows slightly, but she smiled.
"That sounds like Great-uncle Thaddeus Gildersleeve, who was the mostcautious man in Longmeadow," she said. "Don't fret about the bills! Thiswill be my treat, Jacqueline, to my Cousin Jack's little daughter."
She did not offer to kiss Caroline, but she put her hand on hershoulder, and smiled down at her quite kindly.
"Run along to bed now," she said. "We'll go together and call on MadameWoleski to-morrow."
A little later, when Caroline was settled between the fresh, cool sheetsin the green and golden room, she told it all to Mildred.
"I'm to take lessons from a Polish lady," she whispered. "Oh, I thinkCousin Penelope likes me, or she wouldn't have offered. It's like Heavenhere, isn't it, Mildred? If only we could stay forever!"
And while she whispered the words, Caroline was aware that she meant tostay just as long as ever she could. Any vague scruple of consciencewhich might have driven her to confess to the deluded Gildersleeves, wasnow quite done away with. Jacqueline, inventor of the deed, had told herto keep still, and as long as the reward of silence was to live in thiswonderful house with a piano, and take lessons from an exceptionalPolish lady, she would keep still. She only hoped and prayed thatJacqueline might not find it too terrible with the cows and half-auntMartha, and so be moved to come at once and claim her rightful place.