CHAPTER X
THE CAPTURE OF A HALF-AUNT
When Caroline walked out of the drawing-room on the train, in the wakeof the black porter, you will remember that she left Jacqueline in thepatched brown and white gingham (Caroline's dress!) restrapping theshabby suitcase (Caroline's suitcase!).
Jacqueline was not in the least flustered. Through the open door of thedrawing-room she could see that a stout man with a bag, and severalother passengers were making their way toward the open vestibule. Shehad a couple of minutes to spare. And she fully meant to be the lastperson to leave the train at Baring Junction. She wasn't going to cloudthe issue and spoil her little plot by having the groups of waitingrelatives see two little brown-eyed girls, with bobbed brown hair,descend in a procession from the train.
Jacqueline felt pretty sure--and the event justified her--that when anicely dressed little girl, with J. G. on her smart suitcase and herhatbox, came timidly down the steps of the car, the Gildersleeverelatives would pounce upon her and bear her away. Then later, whenCaroline's shabby little substitute appeared, she would naturally fallto the share of half-aunt Martha.
So at the latest moment she dared to risk, Jacqueline took the redsweater over her arm and the big suitcase in her hand, and trailed alongat the end of the line that was leaving the car. She felt very jubilant,for she loved to play-act--and this was the most perfect piece ofplay-acting that she had ever invented. She wasn't in the least afraidfor, if she found half-aunt Martha horrid and her house impossible, shewould simply go to her Gildersleeve relatives and explain who she was,and ask Caroline to back up her story, and then she would have back herown clothes and her own rightful place, and everything would be just asit was before.
A little hard on Caroline, perhaps, but still, she would be no worse offthan she would have been, if she hadn't met Jacqueline in the firstplace. At least she would have had the society of the piano--why shouldany one yearn for a piano?--for several days.
You see, Jacqueline was a selfish little girl, and a thoughtless littlegirl. But perhaps young Aunt Edith Delane, who now was Edith Knowlton,hadn't been the wisest of foster-mothers. In some things she hadindulged Jacqueline foolishly, and in others she had checked her withequal folly. Jacqueline had had lovely clothes and toys and all mannerof semi grown-up pleasures, but she had not been allowed to make friendswhen and where she pleased, nor do the foolish "rowdy" things, as AuntEdith called them, that she had seen other children do--such as ridingtheir bicycles through the streets to public school or flyinghazardously down hill on rollerskates. Of course Jacqueline had longedto do the very things that she was forbidden to do. And now she could.She was rid of Aunt Edith, and governesses, and teachers, and chaperons.She was just Caroline Tait, and she was going to have the free,untrammeled time of her young life--always with the Gildersleeves toshield her in the background!
Staggering under her suitcase, Jacqueline reached the head of the steps.In the distance she caught just a glimpse of Caroline in thehenna-colored frock being hurried off to a tiresome old limousine by aprim-looking lady in a mauve silk sweater. Thank goodness, she wasn'tCaroline! She knew just the sort of dull old poky house they'd take herto.
Then Jacqueline gave her attention to getting herself and the suitcase,with the porter's help, down the steps of the car. She landed in alittle knot of people who were kissing their friends and sorting outtheir hand-luggage, and she saw a woman hurrying toward her, asolidly-built woman with a weather-beaten face, who wore an old blackskirt and a white shirt-waist, and a black straw sailor-hat, a littleaskew. The woman began to smile as soon as her eyes met Jacqueline's.
Jacqueline play-acted all over the place. She dropped the suitcase andfairly flew to meet the stranger.
"Oh, half-aunt Martha," she cried loudly, and cast herself into thewoman's arms.
"My goodness, child," said Mrs. Martha Conway. "Don't knock the breathout of a body!"
She kissed Jacqueline soundly on the cheek.
"I kind of suspect you're Caroline," she said, with a twinkle in hergray eyes. "Give me hold of that suitcase. I'd have had one of the boyshere to help us--they were all crazy to come meet their cousin--but Iwanted room in the car so as to get your trunk, and I just broughtNellie along."
All the while she talked, half-aunt Martha had been hurrying along thestation platform, and hurrying Jacqueline and the suitcase with her,much as the Red Queen hurried Alice in the Looking Glass Country, youwill remember. They now turned a corner of the station, and there in theshade opposite the open door of the baggage room stood a dingy-lookingFord. In the Ford was a sun-browned little girl of six in a stifflystarched gingham dress, who smiled and waved her hand to them.
"You keep on sitting, Nellie," called Aunt Martha. "Where's yourtrunk-check, Caroline?"
"Gee! I forgot all about it," said Jacqueline ruefully.
"You can't have," Aunt Martha told her, patiently but firmly. "Look inyour pockets--in your sweater pocket."
"It isn't there," Jacqueline confessed. She hardly knew whether to laughat herself or be annoyed. She looked at Aunt Martha's anxious face, anddecided she wouldn't laugh.
"We'll unstrap the suitcase," said Aunt Martha, as she placed thesuitcase on a packing-box. "Don't worry, Caroline. It must be somewhere.I knew a woman once that always kept her trunk-check in the toe of herbedshoe when she went on a long train trip. And even if we don't findit, we can prove property and claim your trunk. What kind of a trunk wasit?"
"I--I don't know," said Jacqueline feebly. She could feel her cheeksburning, and the tears of vexation rising to her eyes. For she fullybelieved that everything was going to be spoiled right at the outset.And somehow, as she looked at Aunt Martha's weather-beaten anxious faceand steady gray eyes, she felt that it would not be what she would calla picnic to explain to Aunt Martha why she didn't know what her owntrunk looked like, and how she came to stand here in the soiled whiteshoes of Caroline Tait.
But Martha Conway saw in Jacqueline's confusion only the naturaldistress of a child, who was tired with a long journey and frightened atthe prospect of losing all her little possessions.
"Don't cry!" she bade briskly. "'Twon't help matters. Nothing's lost, ifyou know where 'tis, as the sea-cook said when he dropped the tea-kettleoverboard, and that check must just be in this suitcase somewheres."
She had the straps unfastened by this time and the lid lifted.
"My, what a hoorah's nest!" she murmured, and indeed Jacqueline's hastyincursion into the suitcase, in search of Mildred's wardrobe, hadutterly disarranged Caroline's neat garments.
Aunt Martha turned over the pink and white soiled gingham and thediscarded underwear. She felt in the toe of each of the worn bedshoes,and looked disappointed at finding nothing in them. She shook out thenightgown. But though she looked more and more anxious, and though hersilence made Jacqueline feel more and more what a real disaster toCaroline and to Caroline's people the loss of a mere trunk would be, shedid not once scold.
At the bottom of the suitcase were Caroline's comb and brush, in achintz case with the initials F. T. worked on it in cross-stitch, and alittle chintz handkerchief-case, with the same initials. Aunt Marthaopened the handkerchief-case and smiled with relief as she saw on top ofthe handkerchiefs the clumsy oblong of the pasteboard trunk-check.
"Well, now," she said, "you were a good girl to put it away socarefully, only next time don't go and forget where you put it. Now I'llgo right and get the baggage man to put the trunk into the Ford. Isuppose there'll be room. Or did you bring a Saratoga, Caroline?"
"The trunk isn't exactly what you might call big," murmured Jacquelinenon-committally. She certainly hoped it wasn't. What mightn't it belike, this unknown trunk of Caroline's that was now her trunk?
While she waited for Aunt Martha to return with the trunk, Jacquelinestarted to restrap the suitcase, but before she did so, she cast ahurried glance about, in search of the trunk-key. She was pretty surethat Aunt Mar
tha would be asking for that, next. To her great relief,she found underneath the comb and brush case a shabby little red purse(Caroline's purse!) and in it were the trunk-key, two pennies, and afifty-cent piece. She pocketed the purse and its contents joyfully. Fairexchange was no robbery, and even after the porter had his fee, therewere left a couple of dollars in the vanity bag (Jacqueline's bag!) thatCaroline had carried away.
By the time the suitcase was strapped, Aunt Martha came back with a manin shirt-sleeves who carried a trunk on his shoulder. Not at all a largetrunk, praise be! but a little battered steamer-trunk, which went quiteeasily between the back and front seats of the Ford, with room enoughbesides for the suitcase, and Jacqueline's red sweater, and some brownpaper bundles and bags that were half-aunt Martha's. One didn't come toBaring Junction every day, it seemed, and one profited by the occasionto do a little shopping.
After the baggage was safely placed, Aunt Martha and Jacqueline settledthemselves on the front seat, with the six-year-old girl between them.
"This is Nellie," said Aunt Martha, "and this is your Cousin Caroline,Nellie."
The little girl hung her head and smiled. She had a pointed chin andthick golden brown eyelashes. She seemed to Jacqueline rather a baby.
After a little rebellion on the part of the Ford, which Aunt Marthasubdued in a capable manner, the car got under way. Jacqueline watchedthe process with interest. She knew a lot of funny stories about Fords,but she had never ridden in one before. Uncle Jimmie had a Locomobile,and Aunt Edie swore by her Marmon.
Rather spasmodically, as they got up speed, they rolled across the wornasphalt of the station park and into the one wide street of BaringJunction. Along the street were two-story buildings of brick, fruitshops and hardware shops and drygoods shops, as the wares thatoverflowed on the sidewalk bore witness, and drug shops. At sight of thelarge advertisements that shouted the joys of sundaes and cool drinks,Jacqueline remembered that she was thirsty. She remembered also thefifty cents in Caroline's shabby red purse. She never dreamed that thegift of fifty cents, because Caroline must not go on a journeypenniless, meant real generosity on Cousin Delia's part.
"Let's stop and get a drink," begged Jacqueline. "My treat, of course.I've got fifty cents--enough for three fifteen-cent sodas."
Aunt Martha turned her head and looked at her.
"Forty-five cents just for drinks?" she said. "You hang on to thathalf-dollar, Caroline. You'll be needing it, like as not, forhair-ribbons."
Jacqueline started to say, very rudely: "It's my money!" But sherecollected that it was really Caroline's. She also caught herselfwondering if it were advisable to be rude to half-aunt Martha. A ladywho could squelch a Ford might be able to squelch a supposed half-niece.
Then she was glad that she hadn't been rude, for Aunt Martha smiled. Sheseemed to guess what it was like to be ten years old, and just off thetrain on a hot June afternoon.
"I'll get you and Nellie each an ice-cream cone," she said.
Nellie smiled. She couldn't have looked more blissfully happy ifsomebody had promised her a beautiful fifty-cent special, with a plateof _petit fours_.
"There's a nice-looking place," suggested Jacqueline eagerly, "the bigone with the little fountain of water in the window."
"Donovan's?" said Aunt Martha. "That's a big place, all right, andprices to match. They'll charge you fifteen cents for an ice-cream coneif you go in there. We'll stop at the little Greek place."
Just at the end of the street of brick buildings they stoppedaccordingly at a tiny shop, wedged in between two pompous neighbors.Aunt Martha bought two ice-cream cones for seven cents apiece. Only twocones. Perhaps she didn't like ice-cream herself.
"Eat 'em up before they melt, and don't spill any more than you canhelp," she advised.
Nellie's little pink tongue was deep in the custardy contents of thepasteboard-like cone before Aunt Martha had regained her seat.Jacqueline clutched her cone and followed suit joyously. Never beforehad she been encouraged to eat dubious ice-cream, publicly, shamelessly,in a moving car, on an open road. She licked the cool drops thatdribbled from the melting mound, and thought them delicious.
"Thank you, half-aunt Martha," she said, with a sticky smile.
Aunt Martha chuckled.
"My land, child," she said. "Don't call me half-aunt. Makes me feel likeI was cut in two."