Sisters

  CHAPTER XXXIII. GWYNETTE'S CHOICE

  Jenny Warner could not guess why there were so many mysterious smiles andhead noddings that night at supper and the next morning at breakfast.

  "I just know that you're all up to mischief," she accused as they wereleaving the table.

  "Guess what we four are going to do this morning," Lenora beamed at herfriend.

  "Well, I know Granddad is going into town."

  "And Grandma Sue, you, and I are going with him," Lenora laughingly toldJenny.

  Jenny caught the glance that passed between Grandma Sue and Lenora andknew they had a secret.

  When an hour later Grandpa Warner stopped Dobbin in front of the mostfashionable store in Santa Barbara, Jenny was more puzzled than ever.

  "Come on, sister mine." Lenora took Jenny's hand and the two girls andGrandma Sue entered the store.

  It was all very mysterious and exciting to Jenny. She looked at GrandmaSue who gazed about at the rainbow-hued silks piled high on the counters,at the display of exquisite laces, and at the dainty silk lingerie, asthough she were visiting a museum. "There's a power o' pretty things inthis here shop," she confided to her companions.

  Lenora, having spoken to a uniformed attendant, led them at once to anelevator and they were silently and swiftly lifted to an upper floor.

  There Jenny saw a handsomely furnished room with glass cases around thewalls, and in them hung dresses of every color and kind. She decided thatLenora needed something new to wear on her long journey, which was onlyfive days away, and so she sat with Susan Warner on a velvet upholsteredsofa while the other girl spoke quietly with a trim-looking clerk who wasdressed in black with white lace collar and cuffs.

  "Yes, indeed. We have the very latest things in party gowns." Jenny couldnot help overhearing this remark. The clerk continued: "If you will comethis way, I will show them to you." Susan Warner was on her feet as soonas Lenora beckoned. Jenny was more mystified than ever. Lenora did notneed a party gown, of that she was sure, for were there not two as prettyas any girl could wish to possess hanging in her closet at the farm?

  The saleswoman led them to a small room furnished in old gold and blue.The walls were paneled with gilt-framed mirrors, and here the attendantleft them. Susan Warner sat down smiling as she noted Jenny's perplexity.That little maid could keep quiet no longer. "_Who_ is going to buy aparty gown," she inquired. "Lenora doesn't need another, and Grandma Sue,I'm sure it can't be _you_."

  "It's for you, Miss Jeanette Warner," Lenora whispered. "Sssh! Don't actsurprised, for if you do, what will the saleswoman think? Now, what colorwould you prefer, blue or yellow are both becoming to you."

  Jenny turned toward the older woman. "Grandma Sue," she began, when theclerk reappeared with an armful of exquisite gowns of every hue. So therewas nothing for Jenny to do but try on one and then another. How lovely,how wonderfully lovely they were, but with a blue silk, the color offorget-me-nots, she had fallen in love at once. It was trimmed withshirred blue lovers' knots, looping it in here and there, and withclusters of tiny pink silk roses. "We'll take that," Grandma Sueannounced, not once having asked the price. Jenny gasped. Thesaleswoman's well-trained features did not register the astonishment shefelt. Susan Warner did not give the impression of wealth or fashion, butone never could tell. The truth was that Lenora had told the clerk not tomention the price, fearing that Jenny would refuse the party dress, whichwas to be a gift to her from the two Gales. When they emerged from theshop, the lovely gown carefully folded in a long box, Jenny was againsurprised to find Harold and Charles standing by the curb visiting withher grandfather.

  "Wall, wall, Jenny-gal, did they get you fixed up with fancy riggin's?"

  Grandpa Si beamed at the darling of his heart.

  The girl looked as though she were walking in a dream. It all seemed veryunreal to her. "Oh, it is the loveliest dress!" she exclaimed, "butwherever am I to wear it? I _never_ went to a party, so why do I need aparty gown?"

  "You shall see what you shall see," was Harold's mysterious reply. Thenhe added briskly, "Now since we happened to meet you, will you not honorus with your company for lunch?"

  "Yes, indeed we will." Lenora, twinkling-eyed, was evidently carrying outa prearranged conversation. "Just lead the way."

  An attractive cafe being near, the party, led thither by Harold, was soonseated at a table in a curtained booth.

  Silas Warner beamed across at his good wife. "Sort o' hifalutin doin'swe're up to, hey, Ma?"

  Susan Warner's cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling. "It sure is atreat to me to know what's on the inside of these places. Will yo' hearthat now? There's a fiddle startin' up somewhars."

  The "fiddle" was not alone, for an orchestra played during their entirestay. The boys were told to order the lunch, and they seemed to get agood deal of enjoyment out of doing it. They selected delicacies withlong French names, but Grandpa Si, who by that time had removed his hat,since the boys had done so, ate everything that was brought to him with arelish, smacking his lips appreciatively and asking, "Wall, Ma, do yo'reckon _you_ could make one o' them concoctions if the waiter'd tell youwhat the mixin's was?"

  "Silas Warner, don't yo' go to askin' him," Susan warned. "He'll thinkwe're greener than we be, even though that's green enough, goodnessknows, when it comes to puttin' on sech styles."

  The old man leaned over and patted his wife's hand, which was stillpartly covered with the black lace mit. "Ma, don' yo' go to frettin'about me. I ain't goin' to ask nothin' an', as fer the vittles, thar'snone as can cook more to _my_ likin' than yerself, even though thar beless trimmin's."

  It was while they were eating their ice cream and cake that Haroldsuggested that they go to the theatre. It was quite evident that the oldpeople were delighted and so were the girls. "It's a splendid play,"Charles put in. "I do wish your sister had come with us." Harold hadpurposely neglected to tell his friend of the conversation he had hadthat morning with Gwynette.

  As they were leaving the cafe, Charles asked, "Should you mind, Hal, if Iborrow your little gray car and go back after Gwynette? I'm sure shewould enjoy the play."

  "Go by all means." Harold drew his friend aside, although not seeming todo so, as he added, "I'll get a box for the Warners and Lenora. You wouldbetter get seats somewhere else for you and Gwyn."

  "Why?" Charles questioned. "There is usually room for eight at least in abox. Are they smaller here?"

  "No-o, but----"

  "Hmm! I understand. Well, just leave that to me. So long!"

  Meanwhile Gwyn had been feeling decidedly neglected. She had read to hermother in the garden as had become their morning custom but the olderwoman noted that the girl was listless and disinterested. "Ma Mere," Gwynhad said, dropping the book to her lap, and showing by her remark thatshe had not been thinking of the story. "If it isn't too late I believe Iwill go on that tour you were telling me about. I am desperately unhappy.Something is all wrong with me."

  Mrs. Poindexter-Jones sighed. "I am sorry, Gwyn. It is too late dear, butperhaps I will hear of another. I will make inquiries if you wish." ThenMiss Dane had come to take the invalid indoors, and Gwyn spent a lonelyhour lunching by herself in the great formal dining-room.

  It was in the library that Charles found her. She had been trying toread, but oh, how eagerly she glanced up when she heard his step. The ladbounded in, both hands held out. There was an expression in his fine eyesthat rejoiced the girl's heart.

  "Oh, I've been so dismally lonely," Gwyn said, and there were tears ofself-pity on her long curling lashes.

  "Poor girl I know what it is to be lonely." Then, with one of his mostwinsome smiles, Charles added, "That's why I have come back for you,Gwyn." It was the first time he had called her that. "The others weregoing to the theatre. Harold's to get a box. I couldn't enjoy the playwithout you there--that is, not if you would like to go."

  Gwyn was torn between a desire to be with Charles Gale and a dread of
being seen in a box with these impossible Warners. "Oh, Charles!" Theywere calling each other by their first names without realizing it. "Iwant to go with _you_! I am always _proud_ of you anywhere, but--" shehesitated and looked up at him almost pleadingly, "you won't like me whenI tell you that I would be _ashamed_ to be seen in a box--with mymother's servants."

  Charles released her hands and walked to a window, where he stoodsilently looking out. "Gwyn," he said, turning toward her, "I didn'tthink I would ever meet a girl for whom I would care--_really care_, butI know now that I have met one, but, since she scorns farmers, I shallhave to cease caring, for I by _choice_ am, and shall remain, a farmer,or a rancher, as we are called in the Northwest."

  Gwyn's heart beat rapidly. Was this handsome young man, who stood soproudly erect, telling her that he loved her? And in that moment she knewthat she cared for him. She felt scornful of herself, for, had she notoften boasted that the most eligible bachelor in San Francisco's youngerset would be the one of _her choice_, nor, had she any doubt but that_she_ would also be his, and here she was silently acknowledging that sheloved a mere rancher. However, it might be with her but a passing fancy.He would be gone in another week; then she would visit the city and meetmen of her _own_ class and forget. Yes, that is what she really _wanted_to do, _forget_ this unsuitable attraction.

  Charles broke in upon her meditations with, "Well, Gwyn, time is passing.Do you care to go to the matinee with me and occupy a box with theWarners, my sister and Harold?"

  The proud girl felt that he was making this a test of whether or not shecould care for him as a rancher. "No," she heard her voice saying coldly."I would rather be lonely than be seen in a box with those back-woodsyWarners."

  "Very well, I must return at once or I will be late." Charles started forthe door. Gwyn sensed, and truly, that her "no" meant a refusal of morethan an afternoon at the matinee.

  "Good-bye!" he turned in the portier-hung doorway to say. He saw that shehad dropped to the sofa and, hiding her face in a cushion, was sobbing asthough her heart would break. One stride took him back to her. "Gwyn!Dear, dear girl!" He sat beside her and took both of her hands, but shecontinued to look away from him. "Why won't you try to overcome thesepetty false standards? I _want_ to ask you to be my wife, but I can't,when you think a rancher so far beneath you."

  For answer, she lifted a glowing face. "_I want_ to be a rancher's wife.Charles, please let me."

  The curtain had gone down on the first act when Gwynette and Charlesappeared in the box. They were welcomed with smiles and nods and a fewwhispered words. Harold, from time to time, glanced back at his sister.She was positively radiant. Then he caught a look full of meaning thatwas exchanged by the girl and the man at her side.

  It told its own story. Gwynette, the proud, haughty, domineering girl,had been won by a rancher. Her brother well knew how she had struggledagainst what she would call a misalliance, but Cupid had been the victor.Then he wondered what his mother would say. Involuntarily Harold glancedat the girl near whom he was sitting. Feeling his glance, she smiled upat him, and yet it was merely a smile of good comradeship. He would haveto wait. Jenny was two years younger than her sister, and had neverthought of love.