Brenda's Bargain: A Story for Girls

  III

  BRENDA AT THE MANSION

  One fine afternoon, not so very long after she had wasted her twentydollars and made a friend of Maggie McSorley, Brenda in riding costumeopened the front door. As she stood on the top step, somewhatimpatiently she snapped her short crop as she gazed anxiously up BeaconStreet.

  On the steps of the house directly opposite were three girls seated andone standing near by. They were schoolgirls evidently, with short skirtshardly to their ankles, and with hair in long pig-tails. As she lookedat them, by one of those swift flights of thought that so often carry usunexpectedly back to the past Brenda was reminded of another brightautumn afternoon, just six years earlier. Then she and Nora, and Edithand Belle, an inseparable quartette, had sat on her front stepsdiscussing the arrival of her unknown cousin, Julia.

  How much had happened since that day! Then she had been younger eventhan those girls across the street, and Julia, who had come andconquered (though not without difficulties) was now a college graduate.

  But Brenda was not one to brood over the past, and when one of the girlsshouted, "We know whom you're looking for," she had a bright replyready.

  Soon around the corner came the clicking of hoofs on the asphaltpavement. Brenda, shading her eyes from the sun, looked toward the west.

  "Late, as usual, Arthur!" she cried, a trifle sharply, as a young man,flinging his reins to the groom on the other horse, ran up the stepstoward her.

  "Impatient, as usual!" he responded pleasantly, consulting his watch."As a matter of fact, I'm five minutes ahead of time. But I'd have beenhere half an hour earlier had I known it was a matter of life anddeath."

  The frown passed from Brenda's face. The two young people mounted theirhorses, and the groom walked back to the stable.

  "Have a good time!" shouted one of the girls, as the two riders startedoff.

  "The same to you!" cried Arthur.

  "Ah, me!" exclaimed Brenda, as they rode on, "I feel so old when I lookat those Sellers girls. Why, they are almost in long dresses now, and Ican remember when they were in baby carriages."

  "Well, even I would rather wear a long dress any day than a babycarriage," responded Arthur. "There, look out!" for they were turning acorner, and two or three bicyclists came suddenly upon them. Brendaavoided the bicyclists, crossed the car tracks safely, and soon the twowere trotting through the Fenway.

  The foliage on the banks of the little stream was brilliant, and hereand there were clumps of asters and other late flowers. They rode on insilence, and were well past the chocolate house before either spoke aword.

  "Why so silent, fair sister-in-law?"

  "Oh, I was only thinking."

  "No wonder that you could not speak. I trust that you were thinking ofme."

  "To be frank," replied Brenda, "that is just what I was not doing. Infact I was thinking of a time when I did not know of your existence."

  "Mention not that sad time, mention it not! fair sister-in-law."

  When Arthur used this term in addressing Brenda she knew that he wasbent on teasing; for although her sister had married Arthur's brother,her engagement to Arthur, announced in June, might very properly bethought to have done away with the teasing title "sister-in-law."

  "Don't be silly, Arthur," cried Brenda; "you can't tease me to-day.Several years of my life certainly did pass before I had an idea thatyou were in the world. I was thinking of the time before we knew eachother, when I was so jealous of Julia."

  "Jealous of Julia!"

  "Oh, I hadn't seen her when I began to have this feeling."

  "But why--what made you jealous if you hadn't seen her?

  "I can't wholly explain. Perhaps it wasn't altogether jealousy. You seeI didn't like the idea of her coming to live with us."

  "You must have got over that soon. You and she have always seemed to hitit off pretty well since I've known you."

  "Oh, yes, ever since you have known us; and I've always been ashamed ofthat first year. Though Belle led me on, just a little."

  As Arthur still seemed somewhat mystified, Brenda described Julia'sfirst winter in Boston; and she did not spare herself, when she told howshe had shut her cousin out from the little circle of "The Four."

  "Really, however, Nora and Edith were not at all to blame. They likedJulia from the first. Then what a brick Julia was when she made up thatsum of money that I lost after we had worked so hard at the Bazaar forMrs. Rosa."

  Though Arthur had heard more or less about these things before, heenjoyed hearing Brenda narrate them in her quick and somewhat excitedfashion.

  "Why, you may believe that I really missed Julia when she was atRadcliffe, and I'm fearfully disappointed that she won't be at home withus this winter."

  "She isn't going back to Cambridge, is she? I certainly saw her degree,and it was on parchment."

  "Oh, Arthur, how you do forget things. I'm sure that I wrote you aboutthe school that she and Miss South were to start."

  "I was probably more interested in other things in the letter. But hasshe lost her money, and hence starts a school?"

  "Arthur, I believe that you skip pages and pages."

  "No, indeed, dear sister-in-law, but some pages sink more deeply in mymind than others. Has Julia lost her money, and therefore must sheteach?"

  "You are hopeless, though I believe that really you remember all aboutit. It's Miss South's scheme. You see she has that great Du Launy houseon her hands, and it's a kind of domestic school for poor girls, andJulia is to help her."

  "What kind of a school?"

  "A domestic school; I think that's it; to teach girls how to keep houseand be useful."

  "Indeed! Then couldn't you go there for a term or two, Brenda? That kindof knowledge may be very useful to you some time."

  Whereupon Brenda urged her horse and was off at a gallop, so distancingArthur for some seconds before he overtook her. On they went through theArboretum, and around Franklin Park, then over the Boulevard towardMattapan and Milton. It was dusk when they turned homeward, and dark, asthey looked from a height on the city twinkling below them.

  As Arthur left her to take the horses to the stable Brenda called afterhim, "I may take your advice and enter the school for a year or two."

  "We'll see," responded Arthur.

  Now, although Brenda had no real intention of entering the new school,either as resident or pupil, she was deeply interested and extremelyanxious to see what changes had been made in the Du Launy Mansion, andshe was to make her first visit there a day or two after this ride withArthur Weston.

  The school itself was not as new as it seemed. It had existed in MissSouth's mind long before she had a prospect of carrying out her plans.Many persons thought it a fine thing for her when she was able to giveup her teaching and live a life of leisure in the fine old mansion withMadame Du Launy.

  Yet Miss South had wholly enjoyed her work at Miss Crawdon's school, andshe had said good-bye to her pupils with regret. Kind though hergrandmother was, she had sacrificed more than any one realized inbecoming the constant companion of an exacting old lady. Still, as thiswas the duty that lay nearest her, she devoted herself to it wholly.

  Although Madame Du Launy had lived in a large and imposing house,containing much costly furniture, her fortune was smaller than mostpersons supposed. The larger part of her income came from an annuitythat ceased with her death. Miss South had not enough money left topermit her to keep up the great house in the style in which hergrandmother had lived; for out of it small incomes were to be paidduring their lives to three old servants, and after their deaths thismoney was to go to Lydia South's brother Louis. To Louis also went themoney from the sale of certain pictures and medieval tapestries that thewill had ordered to be sold. As to the Mansion itself, Lydia South coulddo what she liked with it and its contents,--let it, sell it, or live init.

  "She'll have to take boarders, though, if she lives there," said someone; "aside from the expense it would be altogether too dreary for ayoung woman to
live there alone."

  But Miss South had no doubt as to what she should do. Here was thechance, that had once seemed so far away, of carrying out her plans fora model school. She found that it was wisest for her to retain the oldhouse for her purpose, as she could neither sell it nor rent it toadvantage. The neighborhood was not what it had once been. Almost allthe older residents had moved away; two families or more were the rulein most of the houses in the street, and not so very far away wereseveral unmistakable tenement-houses. Miss Crawdon's school had left thestreet a year or two before, and if she should sell the house no onewould buy it for a residence. Julia, who was to be her partner in thenew scheme, thought the Du Launy Mansion far better suited to theirpurpose than any house they could secure elsewhere.

  "The North End would be more picturesque, and we could do regularsettlement work among those interesting foreigners. But there is morethan one settlement down there already, and here we shall have the fieldalmost to ourselves."

  Changes and additions to the house had been made during the summer, andnot one of Julia's intimates, excepting those who were to live in theMansion, had been permitted to see it. Nora and Edith and Brenda hadimplored, Philip had teased, but all had been refused. "You must waituntil everything is in readiness."

  When, therefore, Brenda and Nora one morning found themselves walking upthe little flagged walk to the old Du Launy House, they speculatedgreatly as to the changes in the house. Outside, on the front at least,there had been no alterations, and everything looked the same as on thatmorning when the mischievous girls had ventured to pass under theporte-cochere to apologize for breaking a window with their ball. It wasthe same exterior, and yet not the same. It had, as Brenda said, "awide-awake look," whereas formerly almost all the blinds had beenclosed, giving an aspect of dreariness. Now all the shutters were thrownback, blinds were raised, and fresh muslin curtains showed at manywindows instead of the heavy draperies of Madame Du Launy's time.

  In place of the sleek butler who had seemed like a part of thefurnishings, permanent and unremovable, Angelina opened the front door,beaming with satisfaction at the dignity to which she had risen. Indeedshe fairly bristled with a sense of her own importance, and answeredtheir questions in her airiest manner.

  "Oh, Manuel's doing finely at school, Miss Barlow. I can't be sparedmuch now to go to Shiloh, but I was there over Sunday, and my mother'sgot two boarders, young women that work in the factory and don't makemuch trouble for her. So you see I'm not so much needed at home. John'sgot a place, too, in the city this winter, so that I'll see himsometimes," and Angelina giggled in her rather foolish way.

  As she ushered them into the sitting-room Julia emerged from the shadowsof the long hall to greet them, and then there was a confusion ofsounds, as Nora and Brenda eagerly asked questions at the very momentwhen Julia was trying to answer them.

  "Yes," said Julia, as they sat down in the reception-room, "this is thesame room where I first saw Madame Du Launy, the day I took Fidessahome. But you've both been here since?"

  "Oh, yes, and I can see that it hasn't been so very greatly changed.There's that picture of Miss South's mother that brought about thereconciliation, as they'd say in a novel," responded Nora gayly. "I'mglad that you haven't made the reception-room as bare as a hospitalward; I had my misgivings, as I approached the door."

  "Oh, we wished this to be as pleasant and homelike as possible; you cansee that there are many things here that I had in my room at Cambridge,"and she pointed to a Turner etching, and a colonial desk, and aneasy-chair that Brenda and Nora both recognized.

  "The greatest changes," continued Julia, "are in the drawing-rooms;" andleading the way across the hall, Brenda and Nora both exclaimed inwonder. Two drawing-rooms, formerly connected by folding-doors, hadbeen thrown together, and with the partitions removed, the one greatroom was really imposing.

  "You could give a dance here," cried Brenda, pirouetting over thepolished floor.

  "Who knows?" replied Julia with a smile.

  "I'm afraid that you'll have nothing but lectures and classicalconcerts, and other improving things," rejoined Brenda.

  "Who knows?" again responded Julia.

  "But it's really lovely," interposed Nora; "I adore this grayish bluepaper,--everything looks well with it. And what sweet pictures! why,there's that very water color that Madame Du Launy wanted to buy at theBazaar. To think that it should come to her house after all! And there'syour Botticelli print; well, I believe that it will have an elevatingeffect; I know that it always makes me feel rather queer to look at it."

  "Strange logic!" responded Nora, as they wandered through the largeroom. "I suppose that you chose the books, Julia; they look likeyou,--Ruskin, and Longfellow, and Greene's 'Shorter History;' surely youdon't expect girls like these to read such books. Why, I haven't readhalf of them myself; and such good bindings. I really believe that theseare your own books."

  "Why not? We have had great fun in choosing the books we thought theymight like to read from my collections, and from the old-fashionedbookcases in Madame Du Launy's library. The best bindings are her books.Many of them had never been read by any one, I am sure; and as to thecovers, we shall see that they are not ill-treated. We have a theorythat they may be more attracted by handsomely dressed books; for there'sno doubt," turning with a smile toward Miss South, "that they think moreof us when arrayed in our best."

  "I love these low bookcases," continued Nora; "and I dare say thatyou'll train them up to liking this Tanagra figurine, and the WingedVictory, and all these other objects that you have arranged soartistically along the top."

  "And how you will feel," interposed Brenda, "when some girl in dustingknocks one of these pretty things to the floor. That bit of Tiffanyglass, for instance, looks as if made expressly to fall under MaggieMcSorley's slippery fingers."

  "Oh, that reminds me, Brenda, Maggie has come," said Miss South.

  "No; not really?"

  "Yes, her aunt brought her over very solemnly two or three days ago. Shesaid she thought it her duty not to trouble you again, as Maggie hadalready been so much expense to you. She came here the day after you sawher, and I explained our plans, and what we should expect from everygirl who entered. She promised that Maggie should stay the two years,and showed a canny Scotch appreciation of the fact, that although Maggiecould earn little or nothing while here, at the end of the time shewould be worth much more than if she had spent the two years in ashop."

  "But how does Maggie feel?"

  "Oh, I should judge that resignation is Maggie's chief state of mind. Weare going to try to help her acquire some more active qualities," saidMiss South.

  "Come, come;" Brenda tried to draw Nora from the centre table on whichlay many attractive books and periodicals. "I'm very anxious to seeMaggie. Can't we see her now, Julia?"

  "I believe she's in the kitchen, and as this is one of our mostattractive rooms, you might as well go there first."

  "The kitchen, you remember, is practically Ruth's gift," said Julia, asthey stood on the threshold of a broad sunny room in the new ell, towhich they had descended a few steps from the main house. "She paid halfthe expense of building the ell, and her purse paid for everything inthe kitchen."

  "But how beautiful; why, it isn't at all like a kitchen!"

  "All the same it is a kitchen, though we have tried to make it aspleasant as any room in the house--in its way," concluded Julia smiling.

  Advancing a few steps farther, Nora and Brenda continued theirexclamations of admiration. The walls, painted a soft yellow, reflectedthe sunshine, without making a glare. The oiled hardwood floor had itscentre covered with a large square of a substance resembling oilcloth,yet softer. A large space around the range was of brick tiles. The ironsink stood on four iron legs with a clear, open space beneath it; therewere no wooden closets under it to harbor musty cloths and half-cleanedkettles, and serve as a breeding place for all kinds of microbes. Ashelf beside the sink was so sloped that dishes placed there wouldquickly d
rain off before drying. The wall above the sink was of blue andwhite Dutch tiles, and between the sink and the range a zinc-coveredtable offered a suitable resting-place for hot kettles and pans. Belowthe clock shelf was another, with a row of books that closer inspectionshowed to be cook-books. All these details could not, of course, betaken in at once, although the pleasant impression was immediate.

  "Plants in the window, and what a curious wire netting!" cried Brenda.

  "Yes, it is neater than curtains, keeps out flies, and though it is somade that outsiders cannot look into the room it does not obscure thelight. The shades at the top can be pulled down when we really need todarken the room."

  Nora stood enraptured before the tall dresser with its store of dishesand jelly moulds, then she gazed into the long, light pantry, theshelves of which were laden with materials for cooking in jars and tinsand little boxes, all neatly labelled and within easy reach. On the wallwere several charts--one showing the different cuts of beef and lamb,another by figures and diagrams giving the different nutritive values ofdifferent articles of food. On the walls were here and there hungvarious sets of maxims or rules neatly framed, among which, perhaps themost conspicuous, was:

  "I. Do everything in its proper time. "II. Keep everything in its proper place. "III. Put everything to its proper use."