XV
WAR AT HAND
As the weeks went on, Angelina and her little group of special friendsfollowed closely the newspaper reports of the troubles in Cuba; that is,Angelina read the despatches and surmises, and told the others howthings were progressing. Except in the case of such definite events asthe destruction of the "Maine," the others were not extremely interestedin what Concetta called "stupid" accounts of distant happenings.Angelina, however, was all excitement, and her theories were aninteresting supplement to all that the Board of Enquiry didn't find out.When she read of Mr. Cannon's bill appropriating fifty millions fordefence she was sure that war was near at hand. When Maggie said thatthere would be no money left in the country if so much was spent in war,Angelina made a rapid calculation that this meant less than a dollar forevery person in the whole land, "and it would be a strange thing," shesaid, "if we couldn't afford that."
Even at the meetings of the League the conversation turned to war, andthey hastened through their readings of the Quaker poet to talk aboutthings that were rather far away from his teachings, except that he wasalways on the side of the oppressed, and in the war of his time washeard with no uncertain voice.
The stripping of the fleet for war and the movement of the troops thatbegan early in April were described vividly by Angelina, after she hadread about them. The girls all took more interest when war seemed reallyat hand, and Angelina was called upon to explain many things in whichher knowledge hardly equalled her willingness to impart it.
"The mosquito fleet; oh, what can that be? Is it to bite the Spaniards?"Inez had asked, and Angelina had replied most scornfully:
"Of course not; it's a lot of long, thin iron boats that skim over thewater as fast as a mosquito flies--all made of iron, of course, withlong, thin legs that go out from the side like a mosquito's."
"Legs," exclaimed Haleema dubiously; "on a boat!" and Angelina respondedhastily:
"Well, not real legs, only kind of paddles, that make them go faster;"and as no older person heard this original explanation, the girlscontinued to have their very special interest in the curious mosquitofleet.
When the first shot was fired and the little "Buena Ventura" wascaptured on April 22, young and old knew that peace was at an end, andthere was no surprise when the declaration of war came a few days later.
"I've been looking for it," said Angelina, "ever since the 'Maine' wasdestroyed, and I should have been dreadfully disappointed if war hadn'tcome. But I was quite certain that there'd be fighting soon when I heardthat an officer had been sent abroad to buy warships; for what in theworld should _we_," with a strong emphasis on the "we," "want ofwarships if we hadn't made up our minds to have a war?"
During all these weeks Brenda had been no less interested than theyounger girls in the question of what should be done for Cuba.Washington had become the centre of the world for her in the strongestsense of the word, and evidently for the time it was the centre ofinterest for the whole country.
Arthur's letters to her continued rather brief. He spoke of beingoverworked, and Belle in writing rarely failed to say that she had seenhim at this or that social function, and almost as often she mentionedhow popular he was. Brenda at last wrote one or two brief notes toArthur, asking him to return for a dinner that she was giving beforeLent; but he took no notice of these missives, at least he did not writeto her until Lent itself was half over, and then he made a simple littlereference to her request with a mere "I was sorry that I could not dowhat you wished, but you must have known that I could not before youwrote."
Then Brenda came to the point of deciding that she would never write tohim again, and she threw herself into the work at the Mansion with muchmore zeal than Julia had ever expected from her. She was far lesscheerful than the Brenda of old. It was not merely because she could nothave her own way, but rather that she felt the shadow of the impendingwar cloud hanging over the country.
Every Thursday she assisted Agnes at the informal studio tea, and thiswas really her only amusement, and in the early spring the conversationaround the tea-table hovered between the two subjects,--the prospect ofwar and the correct costume for the Festival.
The Artists' Festival was an institution that the artists of the cityplanned and enjoyed with the assistance of their friends. Each yearthose who were invited were asked to appear in costumes suited to achosen period, the range of which might be several hundred years, butwithin the limits of time and place each costume had to be artisticallycorrect, and meet the approval of the costume committee. This was to beBrenda's first experience of the Festival, and earlier in the season,when she and Arthur had talked about it, she had planned a certain styleof fourteenth-century costume, and Arthur was to go as her page. Ralphhad selected the plates, and though the time was then far off, they hadtalked very definitely of what they should expect from the Festival. Butnow--
Brenda decided to make a final test of Arthur. She would remind him ofthe approaching Artists' Festival.
"I shall be mortified to death," she had said to Agnes, "if Arthur doesnot return in season for it."
"Oh, I fear that he cannot, Brenda, from what he writes Ralph; I shouldjudge that he has work enough to keep him busy all the spring."
"Well, it would be nothing for him to come here for two or three daysand then return to Washington; he used to be so fond of travelling."
"You might write," responded Agnes. "Perhaps he may come."
But in answer to Brenda's brief and rather imperative note Arthur wrotesimply that it was impossible for him to leave Washington now, greatlyas he should have enjoyed the Festival. Then after a page of morepersonal matter he added that even if he could go to Boston, he shouldfeel indisposed to take part in gayeties at a season when the affairs ofthe country were so unsettled.
"Humph!" said Ralph, when Brenda repeated this part of the letter tohim. "They must be nearer war in Washington than we are here, for I cancontemplate an Artists' Festival without feeling that I am deserting mycountry in its hour of need."
As for Brenda herself, when Arthur's letter was closely followed by onefrom Belle, in which she described a delightful dinner of the eveningbefore at Senator Harmon's, she tore Belle's letter as well as Arthur'sinto small pieces; for Belle had told her that Arthur was one of thegayest of the guests at the dinner.
Yet even those who were pretty certain that war was near felt that therecould be no harm in planning for the Festival. Pamela was naturallyinterested, but the medieval period chosen demanded more expensivematerials and a more elaborate costume than she felt disposed toprepare. Julia was uncertain whether she cared to give the time to it,and Miss South declared that she herself had not the energy to go.
"So you, Anstiss, are the only one of us who will ornament the scene,"said Julia; "though I really think that Pamela ought to go, it is sodirectly in line with the things that she likes."
"As to that, it is ridiculous, Julia, that you shouldn't be there. Whenyou were out at Radcliffe you used to encourage operettas and tableauxand all such things, but now--"
"Well, now," responded Julia, "I feel as if I were working for a livingand ought not to waste my time in frivolities."
"That is where you are very foolish. Soon we shall hear loud protestsfrom your aunt and uncle; indeed, they will probably come and drag youaway. They would be justified, too, if you continue in yourdetermination to have your whole life bounded by these walls."
"Very comfortable walls they are, too, but I hate to wander too far insearch of costumes, and the thousand and one little things that arenecessary to make them complete. It is too much trouble for oneevening's enjoyment."
"There!" exclaimed Miss South as Julia had finished, "I have an idea;come with me."
It was late and the pupils had all gone to bed, and Concetta, hearingunwonted steps going to the upper story, pushed her door open a little,and was surprised to see the strange procession winding upwards.
It took its way to the end room in the attic, and when she had lit the
gas Miss South asked Anstiss to help her lift out a chest from a cornerof the closet. Selecting a small key from her ring and opening thetrunk, she began to unfold one or two garments.
"Oh, how beautiful! But who could have worn it?" exclaimed Julia, as avelvet gown trimmed with ermine and with a long train unfolded itselfbefore them.
"Ah, but this is lovelier!" she added, as a dove-colored brocade withpattern outlined in pink was shown, intended evidently to be worn withthe pink satin petticoat that accompanied it. Further delving into thetrunk brought out pointed shoes, elaborate head-dresses, and otherfantastic things.
"Did your grandmother ever wear these clothes?" asked Anstiss insurprise. "I should hardly think that they were of the style even of herday."
"Oh, these things are intended for costume parties," returned MissSouth. "My grandmother described some of the occasions when she firstwore them abroad. She took the greatest care of them, and every springshe herself supervised her maid when she shook them and did them upagain in camphor. Strangely enough I have been so busy the past yearthat I had forgotten about these particular things. There are twocomplete costumes. One of them is entirely in the period of theFestival, and the other needs so little alteration that you and Pamela,Julia, will be completely equipped, with almost no thought in thematter."
"But why won't you go yourself?"
"I have quite made up my mind about that; for the present, at least, Ihave no desire for gayety."
It was really amazing that these two costumes should have been found soperfectly to meet all the requirements of the Festival. Julia, ofcourse, could have had a costume especially designed for her by acostumer, but as she had said, in talking it over with Brenda, she wasby no means in the mood for this, and she would have stayed home ratherthan waste the time in this way.
Brenda threw herself into the preparations for the Festival as if shehad no other interest in the world. She was to be a principal figure inthe group that Ralph had arranged. With an artist's sense of beauty, andan accuracy that no one had ever before suspected, Ralph planned thecostumes, and insisted that they should deviate in no particular fromhis design. To effect this proved an unending occupation for Brenda andAgnes.
"There's one thing, Ralph, that has come out of this," said his wife oneday after he had given her a lecture on the unsuitability of certaintrimmings that she had selected. "After this I shall never worry aboutour future."
"Have you been doing so?" he asked in some surprise.
"Well, I have had misgivings as to what might happen if you shouldbecome blind, or if your pictures should fail to sell, or if Papa shouldlose his money, or--"
"How many more 'ifs,'" he asked; "I had no idea that you were a borrowerof trouble. What have I done to deserve this thoughtfulness, or perhapsI should say thoughtlessness, on your part; for you say that now youhave ceased to worry."
"Why, I am sure that you could transform yourself into a man milliner;in fact, I'm not sure that I may not try to persuade you to change to amore lucrative profession than that of a mere painter of portraits. Fromthe very way in which you hold that little pincushion under your arm, Iam sure that you would be a great success."
Ralph only smiled as he snipped a bit from the end of a velvet train.Then he moved off a little, that he might survey his work from adistance.
"It looks like a milliner's shop," said Brenda, pointing to the litterof silk and velvets, embroideries and fur, strewn over chairs, tables,and divan.
"Yes, and I feel much as if I were waiting for customers. I believe,however, that no more are expected this afternoon. I can thereforeattend to my mail orders. Tom Hearst, by the way, is coming on, and I amdesigning something for him."
"Well, if Tom can spare the time, I should think that Arthur might."
"Ah, Arthur writes that he is too much concerned at the prospect of war.He apparently does not approve of our frivolous doings. The times aretoo serious."
"I do not see why he need take things so to heart. He is not a--areconcentrado." Brenda's words may have seemed like an attempt atlevity, but, indeed, she felt far from cheerful. She concluded with aweak, little "But you don't think that there will be a war, do you,Ralph?"
"I do, indeed, think that there will be a war, dear sister-in-law, but Ialso think that it may be some distance off, and that we might as welleat, drink, and be merry, in other words, enjoy the Artists' Festival,"he rejoined.