The Turned-About Girls

  CHAPTER III

  A BOND IN COMMON

  "What's your name?" asked Jacqueline.

  The little girl in gingham blushed and kept her eyes fixed on Mildred'sbuttons.

  "Caroline," she said, in a small voice. "For my grandmother."

  "My name's Jacqueline Gildersleeve," cut in her companion. "At schoolthey call me Jackie. I'll let you."

  Caroline smiled shyly.

  "I like Jacqueline better," she said. "It's like trumpets and redsunsets."

  Jacqueline turned in the plush seat and looked at her, much impressed.

  "You're a funny kid," she said. "How can anybody's name be like atrumpet?"

  "But names are all music and things," the little girl in ginghaminsisted. "That's why I don't care for Caroline. It's like a bushel ofwheat. Muzzy always called me Carol. That's a nice name--like Christmastrees, and snow outside, and yellow candles."

  "Is your mother with you?" asked Jacqueline.

  "No," Caroline answered, and made herself very busy with Mildred'snightdress. "My mother is--dead."

  "Oh!" said Jacqueline blankly, and seemed for a moment unable to thinkof anything else to say.

  "She died last winter," Caroline went on, in her patient little voice."That's why I'm going to my half-aunt Martha. Have you--lost somebody,too? I see you're wearing black."

  "Oh, that's just not to show dirt," Jacqueline explained. "But I haven'tany mother nor father. They died ages ago. Aunt Edie takes care of me,and Judge Blair is my guardian. Have you got a father?"

  Caroline shook her head.

  "Daddy died three years ago when everybody had the flu. He was on anewspaper. My mother gave music lessons. We had a room with the piano init, and a gas flat we cooked breakfast on, and a couch that pulled outand made a bed for us both."

  It was very clear that Caroline was talking against time. Equally clearthat the brown eyes that she kept obstinately fixed on Mildred werefilling fast with tears.

  Jacqueline tumbled out of her seat, just missed a stout old lady as shecaromed down the aisle, and vanished into the drawing-room. BeforeCaroline had dried her eyes--and Caroline was not slow about it,either!--Jacqueline was back, and in her hand was a big satin-coveredbox.

  "Have some chocolates?" she urged, as she slid into the seat besideCaroline. "Those big whales are scrumptious, only they're full of goo.Hold your hanky under your chin when you bite into them! Here, I'll takeyour doll."

  Jacqueline took Mildred on her lap, very carefully, to Caroline's greatrelief. She examined the trimming of her small, clean nightgown andtenderly slipped her into the little flowered crepe kimono, whileCaroline still struggled with the gooey chocolate.

  "What cunning little ducky clothes!" cooed Jacqueline.

  "My mother made 'em," Caroline spoke thickly because of the chocolate."She could make most anything. She made my dress, too--it was for bestlast summer, but I've grown since then. She knitted my sweater, too."

  Caroline bent her head and stroked the red sleeve dumbly.

  "Have another chocolate," coaxed Jacqueline. "Have a lot! Try the onethat's like a porcupine! Have a gummy one!"

  "I dassen't," said Caroline. "I've got a hole in my tooth, and caramelsalways make it ache."

  "That's too bad," agreed Jacqueline. "I've got braces in my mouth so Ican't eat caramels at all. Oh, well, I'll give 'em to the Fish."

  Caroline looked at her questioningly.

  "I mean Miss Fisher," said naughty Jacqueline mincingly. "The piece ofcheese I'm traveling with."

  "You mean the lady in the blue dress?" asked Caroline.

  Jacqueline nodded and cuddled Mildred to her. She looked quite gentleuntil she smiled, and then the imps of mischief crinkled in her eyes.

  "Auntie Blair changed at Chicago for Montreal, and I'm to go East withMiss Fisher that she knew ages ago in college. She's a fuss. She didn'twant me to speak to you. And she's not my aunt or anything. I shall talkto you as long as I want to."

  Caroline longed to say: "Please do!" She was fascinated with this boldlittle girl, who used words her mother had never let her utter, and wasafraid of nobody, not even the black porter or the august conductor. Butshe hardly dared say: "Please do!" She only smiled vaguely and picked asmall chocolate-covered nut from the satin box.

  "Do you go to school?" Jacqueline asked abruptly.

  "Oh, yes," stammered Caroline. "I'll go into the sixth grade inSeptember. That is, I would have gone into it. I don't know what schoolI'll be in, where I'm going."

  "Do you like school?"

  Caroline looked dubious.

  "I like the reading lessons and the history," she said. "I can't doarithmetic. I'd rather play the piano."

  "Play the piano!" Jacqueline repeated, as if she couldn't believe herears. "You mean you _like_ to practice?"

  "Oh, yes!" said Caroline from her heart.

  "Good _night_!" said Jacqueline.

  "Don't--don't you?" faltered Caroline.

  Jacqueline, like the skipper in "The Wreck of the Hesperus," laughed ascornful laugh.

  "But I'm going to get out of it this summer," she boasted darkly. "I'lltell my Great-aunt Eunice I've sprained my thumb, or something. Shehasn't seen me for years and years. I suppose she thinks I'm a littlegoody-goody. Well, she's going to get the surprise of her life."

  Jacqueline tossed her head defiantly, and Caroline fairly glowed withadmiration.

  "You're not a bit afraid of strangers, are you?" she quavered.

  Jacqueline smiled in a superior way, as if to challenge: "Bring on yourstrangers!"

  "I _am_," admitted Caroline. "And I don't know any of them. I never sawmy half-aunt Martha, and I don't know anything about my half-cousins,but I do hope they have a piano, and that there aren't too many babies."

  "Don't you like 'em?" queried Jacqueline.

  "I--I'm kind of tired of them," Caroline confessed shamefacedly. "Istayed with Cousin Delia after Muzzy died, and she had twins besides twoodd ones, and when one fretted, the others always kept him company."

  "You ought to shake 'em," counseled Jacqueline. "Shake 'em good andhard. I would! You're too meek. Don't you let your old half-aunt go andboss you."

  "But--but she's giving me a home," persisted Caroline. "That is, if weget along. If we don't----"

  "Well?" said Jacqueline, with shameless curiosity.

  "I suppose I'll go to an--an Institution," whispered Caroline. "Youknow--orphan asylum."

  "Oh!" said Jacqueline, again blankly. There seemed nothing more to say.But she did have the inspiration to put Mildred into Caroline's arms,and Caroline hugged her dumbly, with her dark little head bent low overMildred's sleek gold curls.

  "You'd better keep the chocolates," said Jacqueline, in a brisk littlevoice. "I always have lots, and the box will be nice to put your doll'sclothes in."

  "I--I oughtn't to," gasped Caroline, overcome with the glory of thegift.

  "The box is mine," snapped Jacqueline. "I can give it away if I want to,can't I? I'd like to see the Fish stop me."

  Suddenly the hard little termagant softened. She put her arm roundCaroline and Mildred.

  "Of course your half-aunt will like you," she said, "and you'll staywith her, and maybe there's a piano. Does she live in Boston?"

  "No," answered Caroline, nestling close to her new friend. "She lives ona farm in a place called Longmeadow."

  "Longmeadow?" parroted Jacqueline.

  "And I get off at a place called Baring Junction."

  Jacqueline suddenly squeezed Caroline in a hug that really endangeredMildred.

  "Can you beat it?" she cried. "I get off at Baring Junction, and I'mgoing to Longmeadow, just the same as you!"