"Yes—" Carita answered after a moment. "You write the note. I always wake early in the morning—I got the habit in Texas and it seems to stay with me. I'll get up and take it over early—very early, and give it to the maid—or—I could send it by Denham, couldn't I? He's always up by six o'clock."
"Of course—the very thing! You're sure you don't mind? You'll be awfully sleepy in the morning."
"I'd love to do it," Carita answered, truthfully. To be of service to Blue Bonnet constituted her greatest happiness. "Hurry up and write it!"
For the next ten minutes Blue Bonnet's pen scratched away busily. There must have been some difficulty in writing the note, for several attempts went the way of the waste basket. Finally it was done. Blue Bonnet read it through three times, then slipped it into an envelope and laid it on the table beside the bed.
"There it is," she said, eying it with misgivings. "I hope it's all right, and I haven't been too awfully humble. I don't suppose he cares a rap, anyway—as longas—"
She stopped abruptly. She was going to say "as long as Kitty Clark was around," but she couldn't bring herself to it.
Carita was up with the larks the next morning and slipping down-stairs quietly, so that she did not even waken Blue Bonnet, found Denham and gave him the note.
"It's for Mr. Alec, Denham," she said, "and it's very,veryimportant. Please take it over immediately and give it to the cook. Tell her to give it to Mr. Alec the first thing when he comes down to breakfast. And, Denham, please impress upon her how important it is. She might mislay it or something."
Denham promised faithfully, and a few hours later at the station Blue Bonnet was rewarded by a cordial handshake from Alec.
"I got the note all right, Blue Bonnet. It was good of you to send it over—makes my going away a lot easier. Hope you have a jolly good vacation. Put Judson through his paces, won't you? Good-by. Send along some of those fine letters of yours and tell me all the news."
He was off, and Blue Bonnet watched the long train vanish into a black speck.
"Come along, Solomon," she said with a faint sigh, after Alec's last salute had been lost to view, "there's no use moping here."
She left the girls at the first corner and turnedinto a little lane that led to the Widow Patten's cottage. The Widow Patten was a unique figure in the village. Small of stature, cheery of countenance, charitable by nature, she mothered the town. Fate had not been kind to Mrs. Patten, but she cherished no resentment; it had left her a pair of willing hands, and indomitable courage to face emergencies.
"Seems to me if I'd had to endure all that the Widow Patten has, I'd have given up long ago," more than one neighbor said, beholding her sorrows and cares; but the Widow Pattennevergave up. "The way will open," was one of her favorite sayings, and nine times out of ten it did. It had opened up opportunely when Miss Clyde asked her to take little Gabriel and his nurse from the city hospital. The pantry had been deplorably bare, and the very substantial check that preceded the invalid's coming had been a godsend.
Blue Bonnet opened the white picket gate and walked up the path bordered with old-fashioned flags that led to Mrs. Patten's front door. She knocked softly.
Mrs. Patten was not long in answering. She flung back the door with a gesture that bespoke hospitality.
"Why, it's Miss Blue Bonnet," she said, smiling a welcome. "Come right in. S'pose you want to see Gabriel. He's out in the orchard with MissWarren. They're both crazy 'bout the fruit blooms and the sunshine."
She led the way through a spotless kitchen, and Blue Bonnet stopped at the door to catch a glimpse of Gabriel's ecstatic face. The child was propped with soft, comfortable pillows in a wheel chair. It was the first time Blue Bonnet had seen him out of bed, and the sight of his crutches gave her a start.
"So you arrived safely?" she said, shaking hands with Miss Warren and dropping down beside Gabriel.
Gabriel removed his eyes from a robin in the peach-tree long enough to say "good morning" at his nurse's request. Then he spied Solomon.
"A dog!" he cried delightedly, as if wonders were multiplying too rapidly to be true.
Blue Bonnet took Solomon by the collar and pulled him closer to the boy. "Pet him," she said, "he won't hurt you." But at Solomon's friendly approach the child shrank away in terror.
"Gabriel has never known much about dogs," Miss Warren explained. "And just think, Miss Ashe, he's never seen a robin before! That's why he forgot to speak to you; he was entranced."
Entranced he was. The trees in bloom; the soft fragrant air swaying the leaves gently; the singing birds; Mrs. Patten's lazy yellow cat drowsing in the sunshine; the chickens cackling in the tinybarnyard, opened up a panorama before the child's wondering eyes that could scarcely be eclipsed by heaven itself. Only one who has lain for months in a hospital ward with blank walls and a sea of sick faces, could have appreciated the vision.
"'Tain't any better than this, is it—the place where we're goin'?"
"Well—" Blue Bonnet paused a moment before answering. She wondered if anythingcouldbe better than Woodford in the spring. She had grown to love it very dearly herself.
"There's the pony," she said at last. "You haven't forgotten about him, have you? And there are great stretches of land to gallop over as soon as you are well enough—and there's Uncle Cliff, and Uncle Joe and Benita. Benita adores little boys. Just wait until you hear some of her stories and taste her cookies."
"Stories 'bout Injuns and soldiers?"
"Yes, some."
Gabriel heaved a sigh of content and his head dropped back on the pillows contentedly.
"Guess it'll suit me all right," he said, "specially the pony. What you s'pose he looks like?"
"I shouldn't wonder if he was a bay—or perhaps brown; and not so very high. Just high enough for a little boy to climb on easily. Were you ever on a pony?"
"Gee—no! Wish I could see him right now!"
"Would you like to see my pony?"
Gabriel's eyes brightened.
"Bet yer!" he said. "Could I get on him?"
"Maybe. I'll see."
"Can you get him now?"
"I reckon I could—yes."
She was back in a short time on Chula; Knight Judson with her on Victor. They hitched the horses round at the back of the little house so that Gabriel might get a good view of them.
"Gee! Oh, I wish—Couldn't I get on one of 'em? Just a minute?"
Miss Warren looked alarmed.
"Not to-day, dear. You aren't nearly strong enough. I couldn't think of letting you."
"Not if I lifted him very carefully and held him, Miss Warren?" Knight asked.
Gabriel's eyes plead with her.
"Knight would be very careful," Blue Bonnet urged.
All three turned and looked at the child. His cheeks had flushed scarlet; his eyes were as brilliant as stars, his little thin arms outstretched toward Chula with the wildest anticipation.
"Just for a minute then, if Mr. Judson will be very careful."
Knight already had the child in his arms and was lifting him with the greatest tenderness. Gabriel sank into the saddle and reached for the lines with a chuckle of delight.
"Git ap!" he said, "git ap!"
Knight patted Chula's shoulder and spoke quietly.
"Careful, old girl. This is a little sick boy you have on your back; no capers to-day."
"Couldn't he just walk round a minute?" Gabriel begged.
Knight looked at Miss Warren.
"If Mr. Judson takes you roundoncewill you get off willingly, Gabriel?"
Gabriel promised with a quick nod.
Around they went once—so carefully; Blue Bonnet leading Chula, and Knight holding the child in the saddle. When they came back to the place where they had started, Gabriel put his arms round Knight's neck and the tired body sank into the strong arms willingly. Knight carried him to the chair and Gabriel snuggled into the pillows exhausted.
"He will be all right presently," Miss Warren promised, noting Blue Bonnet's and Knight's alarm. "He has no reserve strength yet—but it will come; here, in this sunshine."
Miss Warren went into the house for a glass of milk for Gabriel, and Blue Bonnet, dropping down beside him, rubbed his colorless little hands. For a moment the eyelids fluttered weakly; then they opened slowly and the eyes smiled.
"It was fine!" he said, almost in a whisper. "Fine! Say, bring him again to-morrow, will you?"
Blue Bonnet promised, and as she mounted Chula a few minutes later, a weak voice called:
"To-morrow! Don't forget—you promised!"
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TheWe Are Sevens, meeting for the first time in several months for the transaction of business, had selected Mrs. Clyde's orchard as the best possible place to hold council.
"You can't sit under fruit-trees in bloom every day in the year," Debby had insisted. "I'm for that bench under the peach-tree, myself."
The orchard was alluring. A delicious fragrance filled the air. The peach-trees were crowded with bloom, and the pear-trees threatened every moment to outrival their neighbors in gorgeous blossom. Out in the lawn crocuses lifted their heads; daffodils and hyacinths breathed forth their sweetness, and in the elms, birds twittered and sang of spring as they built their nests.
Sarah had brought her sewing, which she pursued diligently. Kitty had a book to read to the girls if they ever stopped talking long enough to listen; and Amanda swayed back and forth in the hammock lazily. Knight Judson, strolling by, thought it a very attractive group, and hoped the girls would see fit to invite him in.
Blue Bonnet, glancing down the road, spied him, and with a smile beckoned to him.
"Sit down," she said, making room for him on the bench beside her. "This is a club meeting, but we're almost through. Love to have you stay to lunch, if you can stand so many girls all at once. I'm going to see if Katie will give it to us out here. We can use that rustic table over there."
"Lovely!" the girls cried in a breath. "Make Knight carry out the chairs."
"Knight's awfully obliging, isn't he?" Kitty Clark said from her cushion, as she watched his long limbs disappear in the doorway. "And so terribly good looking! How do you suppose he ever got such adorable manners on a Texas range? I noticed them the first time I ever met him. He's really polished,Ishould say."
"It's a good thing Blue Bonnet didn't hear you say that," Amanda said, "and—why, Kitty—don't you see Carita? You ought to know that Texas people are the most courteous in the world after last summer. I think you owe Carita an apology."
Kitty hastened to make amends.
"Don't bother," Carita said generously. "I know how you feel about it. One doesn't have much society where we live in Texas; but it doesn't matter—if one isborna gentleman."
Blue Bonnet came out of the house with a tea-cloth, followed by Knight and Delia with the chairs.
"There's gingerbread!" Debby announced, sniffing. "My, doesn't it smell good!"
"Yes, and little hot biscuits with orange marmalade," Blue Bonnet added. "Cold ham and hot chocolate, too. Katie's an old dear, isn't she?"
It was a merry party, and Knight seemed quite at home, even if he was the only man in sight. He admitted that he had never been so popular in his life, and was enjoying the novelty.
"Girls," Amanda said, when the meal was nearly finished. "I have something to propose. You needn't go away, Knight. Maybe you can help us. Blue Bonnet doesn't know anything about it—but—we're going to have a party, and it's to be for Mr. Ashe."
"For Uncle Cliff!" Blue Bonnet said, amazed. "What kind of a party?"
"That's to be decided," Amanda continued. "I'min favor of having it to-morrow night, if we can get ready. It's to be a surprise party—that is, Mr. Ashe isn't to know a thing about it. He's been so perfectly angelic to all of us that we thought it would be nice to show him our appreciation if we could. Do you think he'd like it, Blue Bonnet? That is, if we could get all our parents to come?"
"I think he'd adore it. Where are you going to have it?"
"We haven't decided yet. Where do you think would be the nicest place? You can come to ourhouse—"
"Why not have it here?" Blue Bonnet interrupted. "I know Grandmother wouldn't mind. In fact, I think she'd love it. I'll go ask her."
She was off before the girls could remonstrate and back again with the welcome news that Aunt Lucinda and Grandmother thought it was the proper place to have it.
"All right," the girls agreed, "only—there's one thing we insist upon, Blue Bonnet,wefurnish the refreshments. We're going to make them. It won't be hard, dividing it between us."
"May I turn the ice-cream freezer?" Knight inquired. "I'm quite expert at it."
"You certainly may," Kitty replied. "I engage you right now, and you may report at my house any time before noon to-morrow."
"And when Kitty's through with you, you can come over to our house and help stir cakes. I'm down for angel food, and I loathe beating up the eggs," Amanda said.
Knight promised solemnly.
"What am I going to furnish?" Blue Bonnet inquired. "Is there any other way you shine in the culinary line, Knight?"
"You furnish the house and the guest of honor! Isn't that enough for one person, I should like to know?" Kitty said. "Seems to me you ought to be satisfied. If I could bring out an Uncle Cliff I should consider that I had done all the community could ask of me."
"That's right, Kitty Kat. Not many peoplecanproduce an Uncle Cliff. But as an especial favor might I contribute candy? I should like to have some claim to Knight's society to-morrow. If he's not utterly worn out with you and Amanda he could help me boil sugar."
"Candy's my specialty," Knight declared. "I could come over to-night and we'll make up a lot. I'll show you a Spanish pinoche that's great."
"Thank you, I know that pinoche—it's a Texas product; but you may come over just the same."
The arrangements were soon completed. Blue Bonnet was to waylay Mr. Ashe and not let him escape next day until the party was over.
"That will be easy," she remarked. "You couldn't drive Uncle Cliff away until my vacation is over. He'll be on hand, don't worry." But great was her alarm next morning when, coming down to breakfast she found Mr. Ashe's bag, packed and ready for traveling, in the front hall.
"Where's Uncle Cliff?" she said, rushing into the dining-room greatly excited.
"Here, Honey. Why, what's the matter? You look as if something dreadful were about to happen."
"What's your bag doing in the hall, Uncle Cliff?"
"Business, Honey, business. I have to run up to Boston for a day or two."
"To-day? Oh, Uncle Cliff, not to-day! You can't—possibly. We need you here. We've justgotto have you. You said you would stay with metwo whole weeks. How can you leave me a single minute when we've been separated all these months?"
"But I'll be back to-morrow, Honey."
"Yes—but to-morrow isn't to-day! I specially need you to-day."
"Very well then, I'll go to-night. What did you want to do to-day?"
"Ever so many things. There's the visit to Gabriel; and the ride out to the farm; and—oh, heaps of things. And to-night—if you'll just stay overto-night, Uncle Cliff, I'll try to spare you to-morrow. Really, I will. Please."
Her arms were about his neck; her head against his cheek.
"I'm sorry, Blue Bonnet, but I must go this time. I'll be back in a day or two. Why, here, here, Honey! What's this?"
Two big, bright tears had splashed down uponhis cheeks, and he raised his eyes to behold a very doleful Blue Bonnet.
"Nothing—only—I'm so frightfully disappointed. Uncle Cliff, I need you to-night. I want you!"
"I didn't suppose it was as serious as all that, Blue Bonnet. Dry those tears. I'll stay, of course."
That evening when the guests had all gathered, and Uncle Cliff had been informed as to the significance of the occasion, Blue Bonnet whispered in his ear:
"Wouldn't it have been perfectly dreadful if you had gone away this morning, with all these kind people waiting to do you honor? Why, the We Are Sevens would never have got over it."
"Neither should I, Honey," Mr. Ashe said. "I feel quite like a debutante. This is the first time a party ever was given in my honor. I assure you I am deeply indebted to the We Are Sevens."
"It's a 'get acquainted' affair, Mr. Ashe," Kitty said, coming up behind him and insisting upon his meeting everybody at once. "This is my father, Doctor Clark—think you've met before; and this is Amanda's mother: she's dying to thank you for all the lovely things you've done for us. Aren't you, Mrs. Parker?"
Mrs. Parker, a timid little woman, put out her hand and tried to express her appreciation, but the words were slow in coming. Mr. Ashe saw herdifficulty, and in a moment had put her at ease by assuring her that the pleasure of knowing the We Are Sevens had more than compensated for what little he had done.
"But it hasn't been a little, Mr. Ashe," Mrs. Parker insisted. "It has been a very great deal. The Texas trip was wonderful. Amanda will never forget it—never! She talks about it every day, and her descriptions of the Blue Bonnet ranch are so vivid that I almost feel as if I had seen it."
Blue Bonnet ranch opened up a score of possibilities, and Mr. Ashe and Mrs. Parker were soon chatting like old friends.
"I don't wonder that the girls are enthusiastic about Mr. Ashe," she said to her husband later in the evening. "I had a perfectly delightful visit with him. He's as plain as can be! Nobody would dream he had so much money."
Nor was Mrs. Parker the only one who found Mr. Ashe delightful. Mr. Blake and his wife; Debby's parents; Doctor Clark, all enjoyed talking with the man who had on several occasions played the fairy godfather to their children.
It was a most informal gathering. The guests chatted in groups or found places at card tables, which had been prepared for those who preferred a rubber of whist. The dining-room was very attractive with its wealth of fruit blossoms. Mrs. Parker, sitting at one end of the table, poured coffee, while Debby's mother at the other served chocolate. An atmosphere of hospitality and kindliness prevailed. It was Knight who at an opportune time proposed a toast to the guest of honor, and Mr. Ashe responded in a fitting manner. Altogether the evening was pronounced a great success.
"Don't you think it would be lovely to end the party with a Virginia reel?" Kitty suggested to Blue Bonnet, who instantly favored the idea. The older guests protested that a Virginia reel was a part of youth, and not of middle age; but the young people insisted, and two lines were drawn up on either side of the parlor for the dance, while Blue Bonnet furnished the music. Kitty led with Mr. Ashe. He bowed with old-fashioned courtesy to the little butterfly partner, who proceeded to lead him a merry chase down the middle and back again; hurrying him through the steps in true twentieth-century fashion.
"Wasn't it a fine party, Uncle Cliff?" Blue Bonnet inquired after the last guest had gone, and she sat down breathless in her favorite chair to talk things over.
"Splendid, Honey! I'm very grateful to the We Are Sevens."
"Oh, you needn't be. They adored doing it. They admire you terribly, Uncle Cliff, terribly!"
Mr. Ashe smiled—a little tender smile—as his eyes rested on Blue Bonnet's happy face.
"Society has never been much in my line, Honey; but I've enjoyed to-night more than I can tell you. It was very pleasant to be so nicely entertained. I hardly realize what a lonely life I lead until I get in the midst of so much merriment. It does one good to let down the bars and loosen up the reins occasionally. I've almost made up my mind to turn the ranch over to Uncle Joe next winter and take a house in Boston. Would you like that, Blue Bonnet? Or, if you are still in school, I might manage to exist in a hotel until you finish. I know that you can't desert Grandmother for the ranch again."
Mrs. Clyde cast a grateful glance in Mr. Ashe's direction.
"I feel it is a great deal to ask," she said, "but—it would be very hard to give Blue Bonnet up—now."
Blue Bonnet was out of her chair instantly and on her uncle's knee.
"Uncle Cliff!" she gasped, "do you really truly mean it? A home in Boston?"
"I really truly mean it, Honey. Life's too short for these long separations."
Round his neck, in a close embrace, went Blue Bonnet's arms, and her face glowed with joy.
"But we're not going to give up the ranch altogether, Uncle Cliff? We couldn't, you know!"
"No, not altogether, Honey. I reckon the summers will find us there pretty regularly; and there'sGabriel now, remember. We can't desert the little fellow when he needs us so."
"We wouldn't desert the Blue Bonnet ranch anyway—under any circumstances. We'll just be commuters, and sort of vibrate between our old home and the new—then we'll all be happy."
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Blue Bonnet, after her week at Woodford, found it difficult to accustom herself to the strict discipline, the regular hours, the stated duties that awaited her at school.
"I feel as if I'd been sailing in an airship and had just got back to earth," she said to Annabel Jackson who was diligently pursuing a French lesson. "Howcanyou dig in that way, Annabel, after all the exciting times you had at home? I can't! I'd like to drop this old geometry into the Red Sea."
"I'vegotto dig," Annabel replied complacently. "It isn't such an easy thing to graduate from Miss North's as some people think. I've earned every inch of the little sheepskin I'll carry home next June, I can tell you—if I'm lucky enough to get it."
Blue Bonnet stifled a yawn.
"Oh, you'll get it, Annabel. You're a shark at lessons. What are you going to do next year?"
Annabel looked out of the window dreamily.
"I don't know yet. Mother has given me thechoice between a year's travel and a college course. Father wants me to come home and renew my acquaintance with the family. I think—perhaps—I'll take his advice. This is the fourth year I've been away. A long time, isn't it?"
"Indeed it is! Will you go into society? Have a coming-out party and all that?"
"I hardly think so. In the South we don't come out; we grow out! I can't remember when I went to my first party; along with my dolls, I reckon."
"I suppose that's why you are always so at ease in company. You aren't the least bit self conscious."
Annabel closed her book and stealing over to Blue Bonnet put an arm about her lovingly.
"Flatterer!" she said.
"No such thing. I never flatter. I admire you awfully! You know I do."
"Thank you, Blue Bonnet. I believe you mean it. You're the most truthful person I know. Now! There's a compliment for you."
Arm in arm the girls left the study hall where they had lingered over their books after class had been dismissed. This friendship, which had promised so much in the beginning, grew steadily. Annabel loved the sincere, upright Western girl; and Blue Bonnet had found all the sweet fine qualities that abounded in Annabel's nature. There are moments, living as intimately as boarding-schoolgirls live, when the mask that hides selfishness, hypocrisy and petty jealousy, slips away, revealing the true nature. To Blue Bonnet's somewhat critical eye, Annabel had measured up under all circumstances; and Annabel had found Blue Bonnet as fair and loyal, as honest and just, as was possible in this world where human frailties so often tip the scale in the balance.
At the top of the stairs the girls paused.
"Are you busy for the next half hour, Blue Bonnet?" Annabel asked.
"No, not very. Why?"
"I thought maybe you'd run over some accompaniments for me. Miss North has insisted upon my singing Sunday night when she has that little tea for the illustrious Alfred Noyes, who is going to read some of his poems to us."
"Of course. I'd love to."
Annabel had a splendid voice; one that might have given her fame had she chosen to cultivate it for a profession. It was a deep rich mezzo-soprano, and under Mrs. White's training she had acquired good enunciation, poise and taste.
Blue Bonnet opened the music and ran her fingers lightly over the keys. She had a soft, velvety touch that made her accompaniments a delight. She was in great demand among the girls who sang, and she specially loved to play for Annabel.
"Annabel has something—I don't knowwhat—" she once said to Mrs. White; and Mrs. White had finished the sentence for her.
"Temperament, my dear; a gift of the gods! Annabel is naturally emotional. It is her Southern heritage. When she sings shefeels; that is what you recognize and can't explain."
Blue Bonnet was strongly akin to Annabel in the qualities that made for success in music and a strong affinity strengthened the friendship. They were alike—and yet vastly different. Annabel was emotional without being impulsive; her emotions were well concealed, veiled from the public eye, while Blue Bonnet's rose and fell like a tide; completely submerging her at times—often embarrassing her. Blue Bonnet was sunny and optimistic; Annabel had a little pessimistic streak in her that was often mistaken for contrariness, and she lacked the spontaneity that was Blue Bonnet's chief charm. Blue Bonnet could laugh and cry in a breath. When Annabel wept there was a deluge; it took days to get back to the old light-heartedness.
"Let's have a game of tennis," Blue Bonnet suggested when they had finished practising. "I've got to exercise. If I keep on gaining weight I'll be able to wear Wee's clothes without the slightest difficulty."
Annabel, who inclined to physical laziness, scorned exercise always.
"Oh, Blue Bonnet, you know I loathe it! Get Patty—she's so expert it makes it worth while to play. I'm no match for you."
Blue Bonnet glanced at Annabel's tiny hands and feet, and laughed.
"You weren't made for athletics, Annabel. You're put up wrong—architecturally."
"Praise be!"
At the foot of the stairs the girls separated. Blue Bonnet was off for her game of tennis and Annabel for a walk in the Park.
"See you later," Blue Bonnet called. "If you love me awfully you might make me a cup of tea when I get in. I'll be ravenous! Take a look in my shirtwaist box. I think you'll find some crackers and ginger snaps in the right-hand corner. Good-by!"
Annabel promised, and an hour later when Blue Bonnet returned, flushed and radiant after a stiff game with Patty, she found the kettle boiling and a general air of domesticity reigning in her friend's comfortable quarters. Annabel nodded from the depths of a chair and went on with instructions to Ruth, who was changing pictures on the wall.
"Cleaning?" Blue Bonnet asked, throwing down her racket and dropping in a heap on the couch. "Whew! I gave Patty a run to-day. What's the matter with the Princess Louise?"
"Ruth had her between that Madonna and thePrinceton chap and it got on my nerves," Annabel complained. "The frames screamed at each other, anyway. I can't stand gold and ebony and oak in a medley. A little lower, Ruth. You know it must be on a level with your eyes. That's better! She'll be happier there and so shall I. I'm terribly fussy. I feel about pictures as I do about books. They have a right to an environment. I couldn't any more stand Shakespeare up beside a best seller than I could fly. How did your game come out?"
Blue Bonnet's eyes danced.
"I beat Patty all hollow—six love!"
"Six love! Really? Why, that's splendid! Keep on and you'll make a record."
"I expect to."
Blue Bonnet drank her tea hastily and began making apologies.
"Sorry to have to run," she said, gathering up her belongings, "but I've an important engagement."
"Junior spread committee, I suppose," Annabel ventured, but Blue Bonnet was already out of the door and on her way to Wee Watts' room.
Wee was cross. Blue Bonnet scented trouble in the atmosphere instantly.
"We've waited this meeting for you twenty minutes, Blue Bonnet, and it's very important. We've decided on a play and you have the leading part."
"I—a leading part? How ridiculous! I never acted in my life."
"Then it's time you began. You don't know what you've missed. You play Oonah, an Irish girl who comes under the spell of the fairies. It's a perfectly sweet part—you'll love it! There are a lot of good parts, and we're wild to begin rehearsals. Isn't it a shame that Angela is a Senior? There's a wonderful part that she could do—a young poet called Aillel, who makes a great sacrifice."
"Wouldn't Sue do?"
"Oh, not at all! It takes a very stunning, tallperson—"
"Thanks awfully for the compliment!" came from Sue's quarter.
"Sue! You know I didn't mean anything. It takes a rather masculine person. I think Helen Renwick,perhaps—"
"Much obliged, Wee. I adore that type, you know." This from Helen, who prided herself on her femininity.
Wee threw down the book impatiently.
"You'd better choose another class president," she said. "I'm ready to resign. If any of you think my job's fun, you're welcome to try it!"
Blue Bonnet strove to heal the breach.
"Nobody's angry, Wee—stop it! There couldn't any one take your place. You're doing thebest you can for all of us—we know that. Sue and Helen were only joking."
"Sue hasn't anything to grumble about," Wee insisted. "She has a perfectly dear comedy part: a deaf old lady who's always hearing things wrong.Ithink it's great."
Sue from her corner grinned, and whispered something to Helen; but she wafted a kiss in Wee's direction and Wee brightened.
"Now we're all agreed, are we, that this play is what we want to present?" the president said, rapping for order. "Shall we vote on it?"
A hearty affirmative settled the matter.
"Very well. The duty of making it the best ever given in the school rests with the cast. I am at your service at all times. We shall now adjourn to meet to-morrow afternoon at five o'clock and continue the arrangements."
The next three weeks were the busiest that Blue Bonnet had known since her entrance to the school. Lessons grew in length and importance. There were endless themes to write in English; mathematics became more and more enigmatical; music more difficult. In addition to this were rehearsals for the play.
"I feel as if I were being driven," Blue Bonnet said one day to Sue Hemphill, disconsolately. "Would you mind hearing me say my lines, Sue? I think I almost have them. I'll begin at my secondentrance. I'm sure I know up to there perfectly. I don't know what ever made me take this part. I'm sure to forget at a critical moment."
But whatever Blue Bonnet's doubts may have been, the rest of the cast had no fears for their star. For them she shone brilliantly, and promised, so Wee declared,—and Wee's judgment was never questioned,—to be the "hit" of the evening.
The days leading up to the performance were strenuous indeed. All the Juniors had been pressed into service. They scurried through halls; darted in and out of rooms laden with draperies, gowns and furniture, mum as sphinxes, spry as crickets.
The day of the Junior spread dawned at last. A wonderful day the first week in May. The gymnasium had been transformed into a bower of beauty. Pine-trees—huge banks of them—concealed the walls, giving an idea of a forest with marvelous effect. Wondrous fountains, constructed in a day, bubbled and sang; flowers bloomed in profusion; and the long table with its festive decorations, sparkling glass and silver, bespoke a welcome to all beholders.
But it was in the dressing-rooms, behind the scenes and in the wings, that the greatest excitement prevailed. The smell of powder and cold cream filled the air. Sue Hemphill, completelycovered with a gingham apron from head to foot, was in her element "making up."
"Don't wiggle so, Blue Bonnet," she commanded, as that young person squirmed under the rigorous treatment she was receiving. "I'll have you looking like a Chinaman in a minute if you don't hold still. I've got to take that eyebrow off—it slants too much. There—that's better! Isn't it, Wee? Wait a minute."
She stood at a distance and contemplated Blue Bonnet thoughtfully.
"You have to study your subjects," she said finally, "to get good results. You're not red enough yet, Blue Bonnet. You can stand a lot of color."
Blue Bonnet protested.
"It isn't necessary that I should look like a house afire, is it? I'm not going to have another bit, Sue, and you needn't insist. Uncle Cliff would have a fit if he could see me; and Aunt Lucinda! mercy, she'd think I was disgraced forever. Ugh! I think I look a fright!"
She held the mirror up to her face and frowned into it impatiently.
Sue explained.
"But you'vegotto do it, Blue Bonnet. Why, you'd look ghastly behind the footlights without any color. Come now—please. Wet your lips and put them out—so! There, that's fine. Wee, turn up the lights on the stage and take a look atBlue Bonnet. Go to the back of the room. See if you think she's made up too much."
"Perfectly lovely!" Wee called a moment later. "You're just b-e-a-utiful! Your best friends will never know you." Which very doubtful compliment went unnoticed in the general rush and excitement.
"Now, do be careful," Sue cautioned as Blue Bonnet gave her seat to Helen Renwick, who stood patiently waiting, cold creamed to the proper consistency. "And don't, underanycircumstances, use your handkerchief. You'll look like a painted sunset at close range if you do. Grease paint's terribly smeary. Please be careful, won't you?"
Blue Bonnet passed out into the wings where Wee was giving instructions right and left.
"Oh, Wee," she said, "I'm scared to death! I believe I'm threatened with stage fright. Do you know how it comes on? Feel my hands."
She laid an icy lump in Wee's warm palm tremblingly.
"Absurd!" Wee said. "Did you think you caught it—like measles or chicken-pox?"
"I think it's caughtme, Wee. I feel so sort of choky—and queer."
"You'll get over it. Don't worry. You look too sweet for words. Take a peek at the stage. It's a dream."
It was a pretty setting. Along the light greenwalls were white curtained windows in whose boxes grew bright, red roses, and swinging from the dimly lighted ceiling was the green and yellow shamrock presented by a former class. The stage represented a simple room in an Irish peasant's cottage, with its brick fireplace and high cupboards. Blue Bonnet was exclaiming over its loveliness when a voice at the centre entrance interrupted her.
"Wee!" it called excitedly. "You're wanted in Clare Peters' dressing-room instantly. They've sent her the wrong wig. It should be grey, and its blond and curly—imagine!—Clare's frantic."
Wee and Blue Bonnet both hastened to the dressing-room. Clare Peters, a somewhat spoiled, flighty girl, accustomed to having her way in most things, stood before the mirror in tears.
"I can't do a thing with it," she said. "I told that stupid man at the costumer's that it had to be grey—I—"
"Go for Sue Hemphill," Wee commanded, and Blue Bonnet fled in haste.
With extraordinary skill Sue fitted the offending wig to Clare's head; gave the curls a twist; treated them to a liberal dose of talcum powder and left Clare happy and satisfied.
"My, but she's a wonder!" commented the leader of the fairies, who had watched the operation in amazement. "Sue certainly is a whiz!"
In another moment the cast had been called together for final instructions. When all were gathered Wee laid down the law. The fairies were not to talk in the wings. All were to keep an eye on the prompter, and Blue Bonnet was especially informed that if the wind apparatus got on a rampage, as it did at the dress rehearsal, and drowned what she was saying at her first entrance, she was to raise her voice and compete with the elements, if need be.
Then there was a rush for the closed doors of the gymnasium, behind which the Juniors sang their song of welcome to the waiting Seniors; and the Seniors responded in fitting style.
As the doors were opened, and the Seniors beheld for the first time the fruits of the Juniors' long endeavors there were exclamations of surprise and delight; and after respects had been paid to the receiving line which included, besides the Junior officers, Miss North and Professor Howe, seats were hastily drawn to the front of the room for the best possible view of the stage; the curtain rolled up, and the play was on!
Perhaps no one in the cast felt the fear that possessed Blue Bonnet as she watched the curtain go up and realized that in a few moments she must face the audience beyond. Her heart beat like a trip hammer; her teeth chattered as if with chill, and Wee Watts, alarmed for her star,—the real shining light of the play,—rubbed the cold hands in an agony of apprehension and spoke comforting words.