XXI
AN OCTOBER WEDDING
One fine October morning, almost three months to a day from the victoryat Santiago, Julia and Nora, Edith and Ruth, stood on one of the broadpiazzas at Rockley talking as rapidly as four intimate friends can talk.Ruth and Julia were hand and hand, for this was their first day togethersince Ruth's return from her year's wedding journey, and each wasdelighted to find the other unchanged. "A little older," Julia had saidwhen Ruth pressed her for her opinion; and then, that her friend mightnot take her too seriously, "but I'd never know it."
"A little more sedate," Ruth had responded; "but you do not show it."
Then the four fell to talking over the events of this very remarkableyear.
"Nothing can surprise me," Ruth said, "since I have heard of theengagement of Pamela to Philip Blair. I did not suppose that he had somuch sense. Excuse me," she added hastily, noting Edith's surprisedlook; "I merely meant that Pamela's good qualities are the kind that theaverage man would be apt to overlook."
"Philip is not an average man," responded Edith proudly; "we all thinkthat he is most unusual."
"Yes, indeed," interposed Nora; "my father says that he never saw anyone develop so wonderfully, and when he was first in college every onethought that he was to be a mere society man, like Jimmy Jeremy.Wouldn't you hate it, Edith, if he had decided to devote his life toleading cotillions?"
"Oh, he never would have done that," said the literal Edith; "he wouldhave found something else to do daytimes."
Then Nora, to emphasize Philip's development, told several anecdotes ofhis helpfulness and devotion to the sick soldiers.
But neither Edith nor Nora then told what Ruth learned later, that Mrs.Blair was far from pleased with the turn of events, as the quiet andalmost unknown Pamela was not the type of girl she would have selectedto be Philip's wife. Her objection, however, had been made beforePhilip's engagement was formally announced. When once it was settled,she accepted it with the best possible grace, and even Pamela herselfscarcely realized the obstacles that Philip had had to overcome ingaining his mother's consent.
Edith had found it even harder to conceal her disappointment fromPhilip. Only to Nora did she say, frankly, "I hoped that it would beJulia. They were always such friends, and I am sure that no one ever hadso much influence over him."
"We can give Julia the credit of having made Philip look at life in abroader way, and I am sure that they are still the greatest friends.But I happen to know, Edith, that she never felt the least little bit ofsentiment for him, and never would."
More than this Nora could not be persuaded to say, and Edith, thoughwith a slight accent of resignation, added:
"Oh, well, I'm very fond of Pamela already, and if I can't have Juliafor a sister-in-law, I'm sure that she and I will get along beautifully.Only it will seem very strange to have such a learned person in thefamily."
But to return to the group on the piazza this bright autumn morning.Seldom have tongues flown faster than theirs. There were so many thingsto talk about, more absorbing even than Philip's engagement,--Arthur'swonderful escape, for example, of which Ruth had heard only the vaguestaccount. Now, as she wished to hear details, Nora naturally was ready togive them to her.
"A shot had passed through his ankle, and he couldn't drag himself away,so that there seems not the slightest doubt that he would have beenstruck again, and perhaps killed, for he was just in the line of theenemy's fire."
Nora spoke as if quite familiar with army tactics and military language,and since there was no one present to criticise her or to say whetherher description was technically correct, she continued:
"Yes, we are quite sure that he would have been killed if it hadn't beenfor Tim McSorley, who dragged him away--"
"Ah," interposed Edith, "and isn't it strange this soldier proved to bea cousin or uncle of Maggie McSorley, a girl, you know, who is at theMansion; and it's all the stranger because it was Brenda who discoveredher, and this has made the greatest difference for Maggie. Brenda hadgot into the habit of snubbing her, but now she can't do enough forher."
"It's all very interesting," said Ruth, smiling slightly; "but Maggieherself hadn't anything to do with rescuing Arthur, had she?"
"Oh, no, indeed; but still it has made a difference, for Brendanaturally feels grateful to every one belonging to Tim McSorley. She isso impulsive. Then I think, too, that she saw that she had always beenunfair to Maggie, and so now she can't do enough for her, just to makeamends."
"Yes, and besides, although Maggie had nothing to do with rescuingArthur, it was her uncle's letter to her that gave the first account ofwhat had really happened to Arthur. I was in the room when she camerunning to Brenda with the letter; it was when Brenda was nearly besideherself, waiting for some real news, and I honestly think that thatletter saved her from brain fever," added Julia.
"'All's well that ends well,'" rejoined Ruth, "is too trite a proverb toquote to-day, yet, however it happened, we should be thankful thatBrenda escaped brain fever. No day could be more ideally suited for awedding than this, but if Brenda's illness had been more severe than itwas, who knows when the wedding could have taken place. The day mighthave been postponed to December or some equally disagreeable month, andno tenting on the lawn then."
"I agree with you," said Julia; "and now I must run away, for there arestill several things to do for Brenda, and in less than an hour thetrain will be here bringing Arthur and the rest of the wedding party.Let me advise you," she concluded, "to be arrayed in your weddinggarments by that time, for on an informal occasion like this you willall be needed to help entertain. Many of the guests have never been herebefore."
When at last the wedding guests arrived, the truth of this statement wasevident, for among them were very few of the old friends of the Barlowfamily.
"We have had one family wedding," Brenda had protested, when her friendsexpressed surprise at her plans; "and now, if I wish to have mine smalland quiet, I think that I ought to be suited, and Arthur, too, for hewishes everything to be just as I wish it."
There was no gainsaying this reasoning, nor would Mr. and Mrs. Barlowhave asked Brenda to change her plans. What remonstrances there werecame from some of the relatives, and from many of Brenda's young friendsnot invited to the house, who felt that in some way they were to losesomething worth seeing. As Brenda had decreed that it should be a housewedding, they were not even to have the privileges of lookers-on, asmight have been the case at a church wedding.
But was ever any family perfectly satisfied with the plans made for thewedding of one of its members? Was there ever a wedding in preparingfor which various persons did not think themselves more or lessslighted? How, then, could Brenda expect to please all in her largeconnection? Now, in spite of her impulsiveness, Brenda had beenconsidered rather conventional, and on this account many felt aggrievedthat she had insisted on having the affair small and informal.
Yet after all it wasn't a very small wedding, and the drawing-rooms atRockley were well filled, though with a far less fashionable assemblagethan that which had surrounded and greeted Agnes and Ralph Weston sixyears before. There were naturally a certain number of relativespresent, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Blair, Dr. and Mrs. Gostar, and a fewother old friends of both Brenda's and Arthur's families.
Besides the "Four," and Julia and Amy and Ruth, there were FrancesPounder and two or three of Brenda's former schoolmates. Miss Crawdon,too, had been invited, and one or two teachers from her school.
Frances Pounder, as her friends still called her, was now Mrs. EgbertRomeyn, and her husband was to perform the marriage ceremony. Mr.Romeyn's church was in a mission centre on the outskirts of the city,and Frances gladly shared his parish labors. To the great surprise ofall who knew her, she had really buried the pride and haughty spirit ofher school days.
Anstiss and Miss South and the rest of the staff of the Mansion werepresent; and besides Philip Blair, and Will Hardon and Nora's brothers,and Fritz Tomkins and Ben Creighton, ther
e were several other youngmen, Arthur's special friends chiefly, with a few of those who had knownBrenda from childhood.
Then in addition to these were a number of "unnecessary people," asBelle called them in a stage whisper to Nora,--all the girls from theMansion, for example, every one of whom had accepted the invitation, andthe whole Rosa family, from Mrs. Rosa to the youngest child. Since thedefeat of the Spanish, and especially since the destruction of Cervera'sfleet, Angelina had had little to say about her Spanish blood. Indeed,she had been overheard giving an elaborate explanation to one of theMansion girls of the difference between Spanish and Portuguese, with theadvantage on the side of the Portuguese, from whom, she said, she wasproud to be descended, "although," she had added, "I was born in theUnited States, and so I shall always be an American citizen."
Although Angelina was the especial protegee of Julia, rather than ofBrenda, she took the greatest interest in the wedding. Had she been oneof the bridesmaids she could hardly have taken more trouble in havingher gown of the latest mode, at least as she had understood it fromreading a certain fashion journal, with whose aid she and a ratherbewildered Shiloh seamstress had made up the inexpensive pink muslin.
Mrs. Rosa, dazed by the invitation to the wedding, inclined not toaccept it; but Julia, anxious to please Brenda, did all that she couldto make it possible for the whole Rosa family to come from Shiloh toRockley. The Rosas did not seem exactly essential to the success of thewedding, yet as Brenda had set her heart on their presence, there was noreason why she should not be humored.
To any one who did not know the circumstances, the presence of Mrs.McSorley and Tim may have appeared less explainable even than thepresence of the Rosas.
Yet Tim, Maggie's Tim, was only second in interest in the eyes of manypresent to Arthur himself; for he it was who had saved Arthur's life onthat memorable day of battle, and for this and another act of heroism hehad received especial praise from his commanding officers.
It isn't every family that can have a hero in it, and Mrs. McSorley,after Maggie had shown her Tim's name in print, and some of his letters,had wisely concluded, as she said, to "let bygones be bygones;" and asthe nearest relative after Maggie of the brave soldier, Arthur had senther a special invitation. So it was that sharp-featured little Mrs.McSorley, almost to her own surprise, found herself at Rockley, thoughfeeling somewhat out of place in the midst of what she considered greatgrandeur. She stood in the background, near one of the long glass doorsopening on the piazza, ready to make her escape should any curious eyesbe turned toward her. The Rosas, Angelina excepted, were near Mrs.McSorley, and Mrs. Rosa was in much the same state of mind as thelatter.
Brenda had never looked so well]
Yet after all, who has eyes for any one else when once the bride andbridegroom have taken their places. Punctually at the appointed hour thebridal party entered the room, and the murmur of voices was hushed. Butwhen the impressive service was over, and young and old hastenedforward with their congratulations, again the voices were heard--asubdued chorus of admiration. For although, as Brenda had decreed, thiswas a most informal wedding, though the service was simple, and therewere no attendants but little Lettice and her cousin Harriet, yet nowedding of the year had been more beautiful. Brenda herself had neverlooked so well, and her simple muslin gown was infinitely more becomingthan one more elaborate could have been. She carried a great bouquet oflilies-of-the-valley, and the little bridesmaids carried smaller bunchesof the same flower. They wore little pins of white and green enamel, andpearls in the form of sprays of lily-of-the-valley, Arthur's gift tothem, and they held their little heads very proudly, since this to themwas the most important moment of their lives. Arthur, as a hero of thelate war, was almost as interesting to the onlookers as the bride, andthat is saying a great deal. Though a little against his own will, hewore his uniform, at Brenda's request, and thus gave just the right noteof color, as the artistic Agnes phrased it. Over the spot where the twostood was a wedding-bell of white blossoms,--the one conventional thingthat Brenda had permitted,--and in every possible place were masses ofwhite chrysanthemums and roses and other white flowers.
The continued warm weather had enabled Brenda to carry out herlong-cherished plan of having the wedding-breakfast in a tent on thelawn, and she and Arthur led the way outside as soon as they could. Theothers followed, and quickly all the guests were grouped in smallermarquees arranged for them around the large tent in which the tableswere set. The caterer and his assistants were aided by a rather unusualcorps of helpers,--the girls from the Mansion, who had begged Brenda'spermission to serve her in this way. Every one of them was there, andMaggie, who had been at Rockley all summer, directed them, pleasedenough that her knowledge of the house and grounds enabled her to be ofreal use on this eventful day.
"No," responded Brenda smilingly, as some one asked her what prizesthere might be concealed within the slices of wedding-cake,--"no, thistime I believe there is neither a thimble nor a ring, nor any otherdelusion. You see, at Agnes' wedding I received in my slice ofbride-cake the thimble that should have consigned me to eternalspinsterhood, and Philip had the bachelor's button. Now you can picturemy mental struggle when I found that I couldn't live up to what was soevidently predestined for me, and Philip doubtless has had the sametrouble, and you can see why it is wiser that none of the guests to-dayshould be exposed to similar perplexity."
"But you forget Miss South," said Nora, who was one of the group; "don'tyou remember that she found the ring in Agnes' cake?"
"Oh, yes, but that only proves my rule."
"Why, Brenda Barlow, how blind you are! Haven't you heard?"
"I'm not Brenda Barlow, thank you, and I haven't heard, but I can see,"and she looked in the direction in which Nora had turned. There,surrounded by the rest of the "Four," with Mr. and Mrs. Barlow and Mr.and Mrs. Blair near by, stood Mr. Edward Elston, the picture ofhappiness. Miss Lydia South, leaning on his arm, looked equally happy,and her attitude was that of one receiving congratulations.
"They did not mean to have it come out until next week," explained Nora,"but in some unexplained way it became known, and now I suppose we mayall congratulate them."
In a moment Arthur and Brenda had offered Miss South their cordial goodwishes. "I am more than glad to call you cousin," said Brenda, "and I donot know which to congratulate the more, you or Cousin Edward. But whatwill Julia and the Mansion do without you next year?"
"Oh, I shall be at the Mansion until after Easter," replied Miss South,"and for the remainder of the year I think that Nora and Anstiss arewilling to do double work. Beyond that we cannot look at present."
"Arthur," said Brenda, as they moved away, "you are not half as cheerfulto-day as you were at Agnes' wedding. You and Ralph seem to have changedplaces. It is he who is making every one laugh. It does not seem naturalfor you to be so serious."
Brenda seemed satisfied with Arthur's reply.
"For one thing," said Arthur, "I am thinking of poor Tom Hearst. Icannot help remembering that he was the life of everything then; itseems so hard that he should have been taken."
"Yes, yes," responded Brenda gently. "I, too, have been thinking abouthim. I was looking, last evening, at the photograph we had taken at theArtists' Festival--the group in costume with Tom in it. He was so happythen at the thought of going to Cuba; and now--just think, Arthur, itwas only six months ago." Brenda's voice broke, she could hardly finishthe sentence.
"There, there," interposed Arthur gently, "let us remember only that hedied bravely;" and then in an unwonted poetical vein he recited a fewlines beginning--
"How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes bless'd!"
and Brenda, listening, was partly cheered, though even as her facebrightened she averred that she did not wish ever to wholly forget TomHearst.
To Brenda, indeed, any allusion to the war was painful. She could notsoon forget those first days of anxiety, and the anxious weeks of herconvalescence, when it was not a ques
tion of whether she _would_ writeto Arthur or not, but of whether she _could_. But now, with the futurespreading so brightly before them, it was hardly the time to dwell onthe mistakes of the past.
XXII
THE WINNER
One morning not so very long after the wedding the old Du Launy Mansionwas "bustling with excitement." This, at least, was the way in whichConcetta phrased it, and if her expression was not exactly perfect inthe matter of its English, every one who heard her understood what shemeant, and agreed with her. Girls with eager faces hurried up and downstairs, laughing gayly as they met, even when occasionally the meetinghappened to take the form of a collision.
Lois, entering the vestibule, looked at the doorkeeper in surprise. Sheresembled Angelina, and yet it was not she.
"I'm her sister," the little girl explained; "I'm Angelina's sister.She's going to study all the time this winter."
"Oh, yes," responded Lois absent-mindedly; "so you are to take herplace."
Lois had not known the whole Rosa family, and if she had ever heard ofAngelina's sisters, had forgotten their existence. Her first start ofsurprise, therefore, had not been strange. But now as she went upstairsshe did recall the fact that Miss South and Julia had decided thatAngelina's rather indefinite duties as doorkeeper and assistant were notlikely to fit her for the most useful career. Taking advantageaccordingly of her professed interest in nursing, they had advised herto begin a certain course of training, by which she might fit herself tobe a skilled attendant. "At the end of this course you may be inclinedto return to the Mansion and help us with the younger girls whom weshall then have with us." The suggestion that she might some time teachthe younger girls pleased Angelina, and almost to their surprise sheaccepted the offer. Her letters from the school to which she had gone,though she had been there so short a time, were highly entertaining.Those who were most interested in her were glad that Angelina had madethe change. She had not yet sufficient age and discretion to assume therole of mentor and patroness that she liked to assume before the youngergirls now at the Mansion.
"It is no reflection upon our school," Julia had said cheerfully, "thatwe send Angelina to another; but we shall have younger girls in our nextyear's class, and Angelina herself will then be older, and possiblywiser, so that if she then tries to guide our pupils, it will not be acase of the blind leading the blind."
But this is a little aside from the entrance of Lois into the Mansionthis bright October day. After she had passed the young doorkeeper hersecond surprise came in the shape of Maggie, who greeted herenthusiastically as she stood at the door of the study. Enthusiasm was anew quality for Maggie to manifest, and Lois would indeed have beenunobserving not to notice that the Maggie who now spoke to her wasaltogether different from the Maggie McSorley whom she had known sixmonths earlier. The other Maggie had been thin and pale, and her eyeswere apt to have a red and watery look. But this Maggie was rosy-cheekedand bright-eyed, and her expression was one of real happiness. Lois hadno chance to compliment Maggie on the change, for, before she couldspeak, from behind two hands clasped themselves across her eyes, while adeep voice cried, "Guess, guess,--"
"Clarissa!" exclaimed Lois, and then with her sight restored she turnedquickly about to meet the smiling gaze of her old classmate.
"I knew you were coming soon to visit Julia, but I had no idea that itwould be so soon."
"I hope that you are not disappointed," rejoined Clarissa. "I hurried onaccount of this wonderful prize-day. But how _did_ you manage to playhide-and-seek with me in Cuba. By rights we should have met at thebedside of some soldier, or at least on the hospital ship. Tell me, now,wasn't it great, to feel that one was actually saving life?" and thenand there the two friends sat down on the lowest stair and began to talkover all they had gone through during the past few months, regardless ofthe wondering glances of the girls who passed on their way up and down.
Lois, however, spoke less cheerfully of her experiences. She hadhappened to help attend to a number of extremely pathetic cases, and onthe whole her work had touched her very deeply. A general improvementin Miss Ambrose's condition had enabled her to accept with a clearconscience an opportunity that had come to her for a brief term ofservice as nurse, and her family had put no further obstacles in herway. But on the whole, though glad that she had been able to help, shehad found that she shrank from certain details of the work. An observerwould not have imagined this condition of mind in Lois, for her hand wasalways steady, her mind always alert for every change in her patient,and she was unsparing of herself. But she had learned from herexperience that it would be wiser for her to shape her future studiestoward a scientific career, rather than in the direction of the activepractice of medicine. To have attained this self-knowledge was worth agreat deal to her.
On the other hand, nursing had strengthened Clarissa in her zeal forpersonal service, and she had decided to add to her Red Cross training aregular hospital course for nurses.
In the midst of their eager conversation the two friends suddenly wererecalled to the present by seeing Julia at the head of the stairs.
"What a lowly seat you have chosen!" she cried. "But do go into thestudy; I'll be there in a moment."
When she joined them Lois apologized for having come so early.
"You wrote me that this was to be the most remarkable prize-day you hadever had, and I thought that I might make myself useful by arriving thismorning. But if you tell me that I am in the way, I'll bear the reprooffor the sake of the pleasure I've had in meeting Clarissa. I had notrealized that her visit to you had already begun."
"Oh, we didn't tell you purposely. We wished to surprise you," and thenthe conversation drifted naturally to their Radcliffe days.
Julia herself brought it to an end by asking her friends to go to thegymnasium, where they could make themselves useful by talking to herwhile she did several necessary things in connection with the award ofthe prizes.
"It seems to me that it's always a prize-day here at the Mansion. Didn'tyou have several last winter?" asked Lois. "I remember the tableaux, andthe valentines, and there were some prizes for scrap-books, and dolls,and--"
"Well," said Julia, with a smile, "if competition is the soul of trade,why shouldn't it be the soul of education? At any rate, we feel that atthe Mansion we can accomplish a great deal by stimulating the girls withthe hope of a future reward. The prize award to-day, however, is nothingnew. Prizes will be awarded on last year's record. You must rememberthat we promised two--one to the girl who had improved the most, who hadsucceeded in reaching the highest standard, and one to her who tried thehardest."
"Ah, yes, I remember," responded Lois; "but I thought that they were tobe given last year."
"We were too much occupied at the end of the season with thoughts of thewar. We decided to postpone the prize-day until autumn."
"It's well that you did," said Clarissa, "otherwise you wouldn't havehad the pleasure of hearing me make a speech on the happy occasion," andshe drew herself up to her full height, as if about to begin an eloquentoration.
When afternoon came a baker's dozen of girls assembled in the gymnasium,which was tastefully decorated with flags, branches of autumn foliage,and long-stemmed, tawny chrysanthemums arranged in tall vases.
Besides the pupils there were present all the staff of the Mansion, butno outsiders, since this, after all, was to be a family affair--nooutsiders, at least, except Clarissa; for Lois, like Nora and Amy, andone or two other friends of Julia's, were accounted members of thestaff, though their help was less definite than that of Julia and Pamelaand the other residents of the Mansion.
As the girls took their places in a semicircle in front of the littleplatform, they talked to one another in an undertone.
"I hear that the prizes are perfectly beautiful. Miss Brenda, I meanMrs. Weston, sent one of the prizes, but I don't know what it is."
"Whom did you vote for, Concetta?"
"Oh, that's telling; we were not to tell until all the votes werecounted;
but I think--"
"Hush! Miss Julia's going to speak."
Then as all the eager faces turned toward her, Julia began her informaladdress.
"I need not remind you that last winter you were told that two prizeswould be awarded at the end of the season. The first to the girl who inevery way had been the most successful--whose record was really thebest. The second to the girl who had succeeded in making the most ofherself. Miss South and I have watched you all carefully. Every day wemade a record of your improvement--in some cases, I am sorry to say, ofyour lack of improvement. We have talked the matter over, and have askedMiss Northcote to help us decide; and after we three had made onedecision, we referred it to every other person who had lived here thepast year, or who had taught you even for a short time."
Julia's natural timidity heightened perhaps the seriousness of her tone,and the faces before her grew sober.
"Now at one time, as I think I told you, we thought of leaving it to yougirls to vote on both the first and the second prizes; but on secondthought we have seen that the first prize ought to be based on therecords that have been kept. Accordingly," and she opened a box that layon the table before her, "it gives me great pleasure to present thiscase of scissors to Phoebe, as a prize awarded her for having made thebest record in work and in all other things during the past year."
Now Phoebe had been so quiet a girl, so colorless in many ways, thatno one had thought of her as a possible prize-winner. She accepted thescissors with a smile and a word of thanks, and passed the red moroccocase around the circle that all might see its contents--six pairs ofscissors, of the finest steel, ranging in size from a very small pairof embroidery scissors to the largest size for cutting cloth.
There were whispered comments in the interval that followed. One girlexpressing her astonishment that Phoebe had been the winner, anotherreplying, "Why, she never did wrong, not once; didn't you ever notice?"
Then in a little while Julia spoke again.
"We have decided to let you vote for the girl who deserves the secondprize. Remember it is to be given to the girl who has made the most ofherself, who has shown the greatest improvement. Each must write herchoice independently on one of these slips of paper, and at the end often minutes Miss Herter will collect the slips."
As they wrote, the faces of the girls were worth studying. Evidently thematter was one that demanded deep thought. They bit their pencils, andlooked at one another, and at last wrote the name in haste and foldedthe slip with the air of having accomplished a great thing. There weresome, of course, who wrote their choice instantly, and with nohesitation, and waited almost impatiently for Clarissa to collect theslips. But at last the votes were in, and as it did not take long tocount them, the result was soon known.
"Nine votes--a majority--for Nellie, and it is confirmed by the staff,"announced Clarissa in her clearest tones. At this there was muchclapping of hands, and even a little cheering, for Nellie was afavorite, and no one begrudged her the set of ebony brushes and mirrorfor her table. Even Concetta and Haleema seemed content with theresult, although more than one of the judges surmised that the slipsthat bore the names of these two girls were written each by the girlwhose name it bore.
There was justice in this award to Nellie, who a year before had beenthe most hoidenish of young Irish girls, in speech more difficult tounderstand than any of the others, in dress untidy to an extentbordering on uncouthness, and in disposition apparently very slow tolearn the ways of an ordinary household. By the end of the season herspeech had become clear and distinct, though with a charming brogue; herdress had become neat and tasteful, and she could make most of her ownclothes, and Miss Dreen considered her the deftest of her waitresses.Perhaps, however, the vote would not have been so nearly unanimous hadnot Nellie also endeared herself to the girls by a certain sunniness ofdisposition. She had not made a single enemy during the whole year. Butin the midst of their congratulations--from which the blushing Nelliewould gladly have escaped--the girls again heard Julia's voice.
"I have here a letter from Mrs. Arthur Weston ["Miss Brenda," two orthree explained to their neighbors], who expresses her regret that shecannot be with us to-day."
Julia would have been glad to read her cousin's letter to the girls, hadit not been written in so unconventional a style as to make thisimpossible. There were passages, however, that it seemed wise to give atfirst hand, and with one or two slight changes of wording she was ableto read them. But first she had a word or two of explanation.
"You may remember last year, when I told you that you were to have asmall allowance of money to spend each month as you pleased, I spoke ofthis as 'earnings.' Although we of the staff had decided that we shouldnot criticise your way of spending it, we thought that by calling themoney 'earnings,' you might take better care of it. Well, I know thattwo or three of you opened small accounts in a savings bank. I know thatothers have spent the money in useful things for their relatives athome, and more than one, I am sure, has nothing to show for her moneyexcept the memory of chocolates and oranges, and perishable ribbons andother fleeting pleasures; but we have agreed not to criticise thisexpenditure, and I merely refer to them because _I_ know that one ofyour number has been called a miser, because she was so intent onhoarding that she would not spend a cent for things either useful orfrivolous."
All eyes were now turned toward Maggie, and for the moment she felt likerunning from the room.
"But before I continue," added Julia, "I must tell you a story," andthen in a few words she related the episode of the broken vase; "andnow," she concluded, "I will read directly from Mrs. Weston's letter:
"'You may imagine my surprise,'" she read, "'when a letter came to me aday or two ago from Maggie McSorley containing a post-office order fortwenty-two dollars. This was to pay for the broken vase with interest.It seems she had been saving it all winter from that meagre littleallowance you allowed her, and to make up the whole sum she did somework this summer--berry-picking, _I_ believe. Arthur and I were verymuch touched, and I have put the post-office order away, for I am surethat I should never feel like spending it.'"
"Sensible!" exclaimed Miss South, under her breath.
Then Julia continued to read from Brenda's letter.
"'So of course I want to make it up to Maggie, and I am sending atwenty-dollar gold piece, which you must promise to give her as a prize,on the same day when you give the other prizes, and she's to do exactlywhat she likes with it. It's a prize for her having learned not to breakthings. But I'm writing her that I am very glad she broke that vase, forif she had not, I should never have had the chance of having the helpshe gave me this last, dreadful summer.'"
Perhaps Julia need not have read so much of the letter, though in doingso she attained what she had in mind,--to show the girls that Maggie wasnot a miser, and to explain why Brenda had of late shown so much moreinterest in her than in some of the other girls.
So Maggie in her turn was congratulated, the more heartily even, becauseMiss South had added a word to Julia's speech by saying that, beforeBrenda's letter had come, she had contemplated a special prize forMaggie, since the latter had certainly succeeded in her efforts toovercome some of her more decided faults,--"'A reward,' rather than 'aprize,' perhaps we should call it, but, by whatever name, equallydeserved."
That evening, after Clarissa had accepted Lois' invitation to go withher to her Newton home for a day or two, Julia decided to go to heraunt's to spend the night. The family had not yet returned to town,though the house was now ready for them. A care-taker and anotherservant were in charge, and, weary from her exertions of the afternoon,Julia was rather glad of the rest and quiet that the lonely houseafforded.
But although she enjoyed the quiet, the very freedom from interruptiongave her time for disquieting thoughts. She began to reflect upon herown loneliness, upon the fact that she was not really necessary toanybody. Her uncle and aunt were kindness itself, but even they did notdepend upon her.
Every one--even little Man
uel Rosa--was of special importance to someone else, while among all the people in her circle she alone seemed tostand quite by herself. The thought wore upon her, and deepened when shethought of Brenda's absence. Later, when she went to Brenda's room toput away some things that she had promised to pack for her, the coverslipped from a little pasteboard box that she had lifted from a shelf.Glancing within she saw some bits of broken, iridescent glass. The sightmade her smile. "Brenda's bargain," she said; "how absurd that wholething was,--the loss of the vase, the acquisition of Maggie; and yet Iam not sure," she continued to herself, "but that Brenda gained by theexchange. I am not sure but that Maggie was a better investment than anyof us at first realized. She has been one of the means, certainly, bywhich Brenda has gained a truer knowledge of herself."
Nor was Julia wrong in this. Maggie unconsciously had helped Brenda to aknowledge of herself; for the Brenda of the past year had been verydifferent from the Brenda of six years before. The earlier Brenda, asJulia had first known her, had been unwilling to admit herself wrong,even when her blunders stared her in the face. But the latter Brenda hadprofited by her own blunders, in that she had been willing to learn fromthem; and though Maggie had been only one of the elements working towardBrenda's uplifting, she had had her part in the progress of the pastyear.
Thinking of Brenda in this light, dwelling on the affection that had soincreased as the two cousins had come to understand each other, Juliabecame more cheerful. She felt that she no longer stood alone, for evensetting aside her circle of warm friends (how had she dared to overlookthem?), was she not in her aunt's household a fourth daughter, and lovedas well--almost as well--as Caroline, or Agnes, or Brenda?
LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY, _Publishers_
254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS.
* * * * *
HELEN LEAH REED'S "BRENDA" BOOKS
BRENDA, HER SCHOOL AND HER CLUB
Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith. 12mo. $1.50.
_The Boston Herald_ says: "Miss Reed's girls have all the impulses andlikes of real girls as their characters are developing, and her recordof their thoughts and actions reads like a chapter snatched from thepage of life. It is bright, genial, merry, wholesome, and full of goodcharacterizations."
BRENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY
Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith. 12mo. $1.50.
A charming picture of vacation life along the famous North Shore ofMassachusetts.
The _Outlook_ says: "The author is one of the best equipped of ourwriters for girls of larger growth. Her stories are strong, intelligent,and wholesome."
BRENDA'S COUSIN AT RADCLIFFE
Illustrated by Alice Barber Stephens. 12mo. $1.20 _net._
A remarkably real and fascinating story of a college girl's career,excelling in interest Miss Reed's first "Brenda" book. The _ProvidenceNews_ says of it: "No better college story has been written." The authoris a graduate of Radcliffe College which she describes.
BRENDA'S BARGAIN
Illustrated. 12mo. $1.20 _net._
The fourth of the "Brenda" books by Helen Leah Reed, which will bringthis popular series to a close. It introduces a group of younger girls,pupils in the domestic science school conducted by Brenda's cousin andher former teacher, Miss South. The story also deals with socialsettlement work.
* * * * *
_Anna Chapin Ray's "Teddy" Stories_
TEDDY: HER BOOK. A Story of Sweet Sixteen
Illustrated by Vesper L. George. 12mo. $1.50.
Miss Ray's work draws instant comparison with the best of Miss Alcott's:first, because she has the same genuine sympathy with boy and girl life;secondly, because she creates real characters, individual and natural,like the young people one knows, actually working out the same kind ofproblems; and, finally, because her style of writing is equallyunaffected and straightforward.--_Christian Register_, Boston.
PHEBE: HER PROFESSION
A Sequel to "Teddy: Her Book"
Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 12mo. $1.50.
This is one of the few books written for young people in which there isto be found the same vigor and grace that one demands in a good storyfor older people.--_Worcester Spy._
TEDDY: HER DAUGHTER
A Sequel to "Teddy: Her Book," and "Phebe: Her Profession"
Illustrated by J. B. Graff. 12mo. $1.50.
Introduces a new generation of girls and boys, all well bred and giftedwith good manners, takes them through much fun and such adventures asone may find on a small sandy island, and gives the girl a page or twoof saving common sense about her duties to boys and her obligation to betrue and womanly.--_New York Times Saturday Review._
NATHALIE'S CHUM
Illustrated by Ellen Bernard Thompson. 12mo. $1.20 _net._
A charming story of a courageous fifteen-year-old girl's effort to helpher older brother support an orphaned family of five. "Nathalie is thesort of a young girl whom other girls like to read about," says the_Hartford Courant_.
URSULA'S FRESHMAN. A Sequel to "Nathalie's Chum"
Illustrated by Harriet Roosevelt Richards. 12mo. $1.20 _net._
A hot-tempered, domineering girl, yet full of common sense and capableof loyal love, and Jack, her cousin, who stoically accepts the loss ofhis father's fortune, and begins to earn his own way through Yale, arethe two principal characters in Miss Ray's new book.
* * * * *
_Myra Sawyer Hamlin's Stories_
NAN AT CAMP CHICOPEE; or, Nan's Summer with the Boys
Illustrated by Jessie McDermott. 16mo. $1.25.
The story is one of free, outdoor life, characterized by a deal of finedescriptive writing and many bits of local color that invest the wholebook with an atmosphere which is actually fragrant.--_BangorCommercial._
NAN IN THE CITY; or, Nan's Winter with the Girls
Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman. 16mo. $1.25.
A bright story in which children and animals play an equal part.--_TheOutlook._
She is a womanly girl, and we have met her like outside of story-books.A wonderfully healthy, thoroughly womanly maiden, standing at the pointin life where childhood and womanhood meet, one follows with interestthe account of her first winter at school in a great city, where shemade new friends and found some old ones.--_Chicago Advance._
NAN'S CHICOPEE CHILDREN
Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman. 16mo. $1.25.
Myra Sawyer Hamlin's stories are full of outdoor life, redolent of thewoods, the fields, and the mountain lakes, and her characters are verynatural young folk.--_Cambridge Tribune._
Full of happiness and helpfulness, with experiences in doors and outthat will interest all young people.--_Evening Standard, New Bedford._
CATHARINE'S PROXY. A Story of Schoolgirl Life
Illustrated by Florence E. Plaisted. 12mo. $1.20 _net._
An entertaining story of a very modern young American girl of wealth whofails to appreciate the advantages of an expensive education, and at thesuggestion of her father gives her educational advantage to anothergirl, who for a year becomes her proxy.
The girl characters are from fifteen to seventeen years of age, the boysare preparing for college, and all are instilled with the spirit ofmodern life in our best schools.
* * * * *
NEW BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
JO'S BOYS, And How They Turned Out
A Sequel to "Little Men." By LOUISA M. ALCOTT. _New IllustratedEdition._ With ten full-page plates by Ellen Wetherald Ahrens. Crown8vo. $2.00.
_Uniform with Jo's Boys_
LITTLE WOMEN. Illustrated by Alice Barber Stephens.
LITTLE MEN. Illustrated by Reginald B. Birch.
AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL. Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith.
The four volumes put up in box, $8.00.
THE GOLDEN WINDOWS
A Book of Fables for Old and Young. By LAURA E. RICHARDS. Illustrated.12mo. $1.50.
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This charming book will be a source of delight to those who love thebest literature, and in its pages there is much that will be helpful inshaping children's lives. The stories are simply and gracefully told.
THE AWAKENING OF THE DUCHESS
By FRANCES CHARLES. With illustrations in color by I. H. Caliga. 12mo.$1.50.
A pretty and touching story of a lonely little heiress, Roselle, whocalled her mother, a society favorite, "the Duchess"; and the finalawakening of a mother's love for her own daughter.
A DAUGHTER OF THE RICH
By M. E. WALLER, author of "The Little Citizen." Illustrated. 12mo.$1.50.
A delightful book, telling the story of a happy summer in the GreenMountains of Vermont and a pleasant winter in New York. The two girlcharacters are Hazel Clyde, the daughter of a New York millionaire, andRose Blossom, a Vermont girl.
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