Brenda's Ward

  CHAPTER V

  ANOTHER PARTING

  To Martine the return to Boston after Christmas was far from cheerful.Not only was she still under the shadow of the parting with her father,but she began to feel that the approaching departure of Brenda would berather hard to bear.

  While her mother was spending a day or two with friends outside thecity, Martine had to stand by and watch Brenda bidding good-bye to herfamily and friends. Her trunks were packed. The walls and mantelpieceswere denuded of many little pictures and ornaments; for at the last shehad decided that it was wiser to take some of her more personalbelongings with her to make her new abode more homelike.

  "I haven't taken a thing that you or your mother would need," Brendaexplained; "only the little presents that have special associations forus. Your mother wrote me that she had a box or two of her own ornamentsand pictures coming, so that she, too, could be reminded of home."

  "Well, I wish our boxes were here now. It makes me so homesick to seethose empty places on the wall. I don't see how you can be so cheerful."

  "But everyone has been so kind. I didn't know how much everyone caredfor me. So much has been done for me the past two weeks that I havehardly had time to pack. Arthur went back to Washington in despairyesterday. He is to join mother and me in New York. He said if we shouldtry to start from Boston we'd never get off. Some one would plan somespecial function just to detain us."

  "I wish that we _could_ detain you."

  "You couldn't do it now," rejoined the optimistic Brenda. "After all,when a thing is finally settled, I believe that I really love change. Ishall miss Lettice and my other little niece--she's a dear if she isonly a baby--but you know I have a niece and namesake in California, andmy mother and father say they will come out in March--so there will be avery short separation."

  "And what about me?" asked Martine, in much the same tone she had usedwhen Brenda first spoke of going away.

  "Oh, you? Why you are better off than you have been for years, with yourmother to take care of you--and Lucian so near--"

  "And no guardian," wailed Martine, in mock sorrow. "Don't flatteryourself that you can get rid of me so easily."

  "I shall write you and think of you. You will still be my ward, nomatter where I am. There, there," as Martine leaned over her to touchher lips gently to her forehead. "Don't act as if we were partingforever. Maggie's red eyes are a constant reproach to me. So please waituntil I am out of sight before you bid me good-bye."

  In spite of her optimism Brenda was far from happy in leaving Boston,her friends, and her pretty apartment, even for a limited time.Sometimes she thought that the various functions in her honor made hergoing all the harder.

  Nora Gostar, who had taken Julia's place at the head of the MansionSchool, gave a tea to which were invited all the former pupils. Not all,naturally, were able to attend, for some of the girls were in situationsfrom which they could not be spared.

  "I wish we had a picture such as they give with patent medicines'before' and 'after' taking," said Brenda. "I can assure you it would beworth framing and taking to California. Do you remember what an untidylittle creature Luisa was when she first entered the Mansion School, andhow thin and forlorn Gretchen looked, and Maggie, who always lost herhead when she had an order given her, and Haleema--why isn't she hereto-day?"

  "Oh, Haleema--haven't you heard? She has gone to Lowell to live. Herhusband is a prosperous rug-merchant and he is very proud of her abilityas a housekeeper. He has promised to contribute something toward sendingher younger sister here for a couple of years."

  "I knew she had married," replied Brenda, "but I had not heard of herremoval to Lowell. It's delightful to know how well most of these girlshave turned out. Even Mrs. Blair admits that the Mansion School is auseful institution."

  "Yes," said Nora, laughing. "She gave us a handsome donation this year.We accepted it gratefully as conscience money for her not letting Edithwork with us."

  "Nora!" cried Brenda, impulsively. "You are a wonder! Of all our four,you are the one best fitted to shine in society. But here you go on withthis work as meekly as if there were nothing else for you to do."

  "There was no one else to take Julia's place this year," replied Nora,quietly, "and it would have been a great pity either to let the schoolrun down or to allow Julia to give up her year in Europe. What fun shewill have when she goes with the Eltons to Greece, and I am sure thatwhen she comes back next year we shall all be the better for her trip.She will have so much to tell us."

  "Nora, you are a brick!" cried Brenda. "You never have been abroadyourself, yet you never utter a word of envy for anyone else's goodtime."

  "Besides," continued Nora, "you are wrong about my shining in society. Idoubt if I should really care for it, even if I had the money to keep upthat kind of thing. You wouldn't wish me to be like Belle, reported inall those silly newspapers as visiting Mrs. This at Lenox, and being theadmired of all who saw her with Mrs. That at Newport, and sitting in thefront row, as at the Horse Show, in a gown that was perfectly _chic_.Oh, no, I hate that kind of thing, and I sympathize with Edith forrefusing to be a mere society girl, such as her mother would like her tobe. But we shouldn't be here by ourselves, for you are the specialguest, and all the girls, old and new, wish to shake hands with you andhear you talk."

  In a moment Brenda was again the centre of an admiring group, for all ofwhom she had a bright smile and a word that really meant something,while they all took note of her dress and little trinkets, and feltdoubly pleased that a person of such elegance should show an interest inthem.

  So exact were the observations of her young admirers that before she hadactually left Boston a hat, a blouse, and a skirt were in process ofconstruction by the deft fingers of three of the girls who had takenspecial note of the details of her attire at this Mansion tea.

  Martine laughed heartily at Brenda's account of the girls at theMansion.

  "I have promised Miss Gostar to go there once a week to give a lesson inwater color. It might seem a case of the blind trying to teach the blindif I were to pretend to teach them much. But the aim is, I believe,simply to give them an idea of colors. I wrote to Mrs. Redmond foradvice while I was away, and it pleased me immensely to have her say Ishould probably do more good than harm by this little experiment."

  "Of course you will do good. I have an idea that you could make thingsvery clear. In the weeks I lived at the Mansion I learned more than Itaught, for I am not a born teacher. But it was wonderful to see whatJulia and Miss South accomplished for their first class of girls. Ienjoyed my afternoon with the old girls far more than the farewellreception mamma arranged for me, and infinitely more than that stiffdinner at Mrs. Blair's last week."

  "If people kill the fatted goose--or was it the fatted calf?--after youreach San Francisco at the same rate they've been doing here, you'llhave indigestion."

  "No danger, my dear. We shall just be nobody there. Mamma has explainedthat I must not expect too much. Here everyone knows who I am--I meaneveryone I come in contact with. But it will be altogether different inthe West. We shall just be part of the great crowd of Easterners whohave left home to better their condition."

  "Nonsense!"

  "But that _is_ why we are going West,--because Arthur will get a largersalary and have more rapid promotion. We are willing to give up thethings we like best, for a while, and live economically. Oh, dear." Andwith her usual inconsistency Brenda did not try to straighten out thequaver in her voice as she concluded with a futile smile.

  "How I wish we could stay here!"

  "Oh, how I wish you could!" moaned Maggie, appearing suddenly on thescene, and the tear-stained face of the latter so amused Brenda that herown melancholy ended in a burst of laughter.

  When Brenda at last was really away, Martine and her mother began toadapt themselves to the new conditions. The cook, of whom Brenda hadstood more or less in awe, gave warning promptly when she heard thatthere was to be a change of mistresses. Maggie, after much tearful
andprayerful consideration, as Brenda put it, also decided not to stay withMrs. Stratford. Only her devotion to Brenda had led her to take thisplace, as she really desired work that would occupy her simply duringthe day. Her aunt, she said, was weak and lonely, and she wished to beat home with her evenings.

  Angelina, learning Maggie's intention, promptly presented herself as acandidate for the vacant place. Mrs. Stratford hesitated, for Martinehad given her an exceedingly humorous account of the Portuguese girl'speculiarities,--an account that did not tend to recommend her as areliable domestic.

  "Of course, mother, she isn't a cut-and-dried housemaid," plead Martine;"but she _is_ so amusing, and if we take her I am sure she will stay,for she says she is perfectly devoted to me. I dare say she won't halfdo the work, for she always has several irons in the fire. But I shallnot mind doing my own room, if we have Angelina, and in fact I'll haveto do it probably, as she is absent-minded and often forgets to do whatshe should. But she loves waiting on table, and it's a great thing tohave a cheerful person in the house. _Do_ say you'll take her, mamma."

  "There seems little chance of escape for me. From what Angelina herselfsays, I should judge that you and she had already settled matters. I donot wish to play the part of a tyrannical parent and so, to please you,just to please you, Martine, I will engage Angelina."

  "Thank you, mamma! You _are_ an angel. I always knew you were."

  "I hope that Angelina is an angel in something besides her name, and Iwish that her name were less dressy. Would she care if I should call herplain Mary?"

  "Oh, mamma, not 'plain,' at any rate. I thought you understood thatAngelina _is_ rather dressy in her feelings. She takes the greatestdelight in her name. Please don't think of calling her anything else."

  So Angelina remained plain Angelina, and on account of her previousexperience with Brenda, proved very useful to Mrs. Stratford. For a weekor two a succession of cooks passed in and out of the little kitchen,until Martine's mother despaired of ever having the apartment in runningorder.

  In this emergency Angelina was only too proud to show what she could do.She would not admit that she had ever learned anything from anybody."I'm a natural born cook," she would say; "and if I didn't consider it amenial position, I would become a professional. It's on account of mySpanish blood, I suppose, that I'm able to season things so well. Youknow in Spain they like things hot and spicy."

  "Spanish blood?" questioned Mrs. Stratford, as Angelina turned away."Aren't the Rosas Portuguese?"

  "Yes, mamma, or they were until our war with Spain. Brenda explained itall to me. During the war Angelina thought it would make her moreinteresting if she called herself Spanish, and now she probably haspersuaded herself that she really _is_ Spanish. This amuses her anddoesn't hurt anyone else."

  "But I don't like the idea of her being untruthful. This quality mayextend to other things."

  "I hope not, mamma. But then we can watch her."

  Lucian, when he heard of Angelina's Spanish proclivities, laughedheartily.

  "She _is_ worth watching," he said. "Each of us must keep an eye onher."