"GABRIEL LOOKED UP IN DISDAIN."
"Let me try. Perhaps I'll surprise you. Then I'll tell you mine. I have a queer name, too."
"Tell yours first."
"All right. It's Blue Bonnet. Blue Bonnet Ashe."
The child laughed again; less loudly this time.
"It's pretty, though. I like it."
"Why do you like it?"
The eyes half closed for a moment, straying away from the soldiers.
"I don't know. Kind of makes me think of flowers."
"Itisthe name of a flower," Blue Bonnet said, surprised at his intuition. "A very pretty flower that grows down in Texas."
But Texas meant nothing to Gabriel. He was busy again, lining up his soldiers for battle.
"They'll march this way," he said, half to himself—"and these this way. Then they'll fight."
"Oh, I wouldn't let them fight, if I were you. Soldiers don't fight any more—not here in America. This is a land of peace."
Gabriel looked up in disdain.
"Aw—quit yer kiddin'," he paid. "What's soldiers fer?"
Blue Bonnet was not ready with a reply. "You haven't told me your other name," she said. "You took advantage of me. I told you mine."
"It ain't pretty! The kids call me Gaby. That's enough. Call me that."
"How old are you?"
"Nine—comin' next August."
"August? My birthday is in August; the twenty-first."
"That's mine, too!"
Blue Bonnet looked incredulous.
"Really?" she said. "Aren't you mistaken? Certain it's the twenty-first?"
"Sure, I am. Ask her!"
He pointed to a nurse who had come to the foot of the bed.
"That's what he has always said," the nurse vouched.
"Well, we're sort of twins, aren't we, Gabriel? If I'm near Boston next summer we'll have to celebrate, won't we?"
The boy nodded. The soldiers were ready to advance upon the enemy now. Birthdays were of small importance.
"Come again some day," Gabriel called when Blue Bonnet took leave of him. "And bring some soldier books with you."
"If you please," the nurse finished for him. "Miss Ashe won't come again if you are not polite."
"If you please," the child repeated dutifully, and Blue Bonnet went back to school, treasuring thelook of gratitude that had shone from eyes set like jewels in a wasted and world-old face; a face that belied claim to childhood, and spoke only of suffering and poverty.
The next week she was back again with some books. The soldiers were still lined up for battle. They looked as if they had seen hard service, but their commander eyed them with pride and pleasure.
"They been in battle more 'en fifty times since you was here," he announced. "They've licked everything in sight—the American army has. This is them on this side. I'd like some British fellers if you could get 'em. Did you know we licked the British, sure 'nough?" he asked, as if the war had just ended.
"We surely did," Blue Bonnet said, matching enthusiasm with his. It was strange to see a little Jewish emigrant espousing the cause of freedom so rapturously. "Showed them their proper place, didn't we?"
"Bet yer!" Gabriel said, doubling up his fist and aiming a blow at the pillow behind the soldiers. "Bet yer!"
A vivid crimson spot glowed in each cheek.
"You must hurry and get well, and perhaps some day you can go and see the soldiers. I have a friend who is going to be one. He'll be at West Point next year."
Gabriel was very much interested, and Blue Bonnet soon found that she was expected to give Alec's life history to the child.
And so this odd friendship between Blue Bonnet and an unfortunate little waif grew, cementing with each visit, reaching out into a future that meant much to the helpless lad; much to the young girl whose character was strengthened and broadened by the contact.
The advantages for culture offered on all sides in Boston were also of inestimable value to Blue Bonnet. The Symphony concerts were a delight, and wonderful and original descriptions went back to Uncle Cliff, Grandmother Clyde, and Aunt Lucinda of celebrities. Blue Bonnet was a discriminating critic—- if one so young could be called a critic. She had a gift for values. This instinct pleased her teachers immensely; especially Mrs. White and Fraulein Schirmer.
Carita, too, was growing and expanding under the new and favorable conditions, proving herself worthy in every particular of Blue Bonnet's friendship and aid. She had a reverence for Blue Bonnet that was akin to worship, and since she persisted in this attitude of affection, it was well that Blue Bonnet's example usually proved worthy of emulation.
It was a fad in Miss North's school, as in most of its kind, for a younger girl to attach herself toa Junior or a Senior; become her satellite, her abject slave if need be. Carita would have been all this, if Blue Bonnet had permitted it; but being of an independent nature Blue Bonnet required very little service from any one.
"Why don't you let me do more things for you, Blue Bonnet?" Carita would say when she was refused the pleasure of waiting upon her. "I don't believe Annabel Jackson has run a ribbon in her underwear this year. Mary Boyd always does it for her. She loves to do it. Peggy Austin waits on Sue Hemphill, hand and foot. Isabel Brooks is getting a terrible case on Wee Watts, too. By the way, Blue Bonnet, did I tell you? Isabel has the sweetest new way of spelling her name. Isobel! You say it quickly—like this—Isobel! Mary Boyd thought of it. I do wish I could find a new way to say Carita, but it seems hopeless."
"Carita! just you let me catch you changing it.Isobel! Why, that's perfectly absurd!"
"Not when you get used to it. Peggy thinks it's distinguished. I do too. Peggy has taken up her own middle name. We're all trying to call her by it, but it's awfully hard. She says she perfectly hated it when she was a child, but now she thinks it's quite stylish."
"What is it?"
"Jerusha! Priscilla Jerusha is the whole of it. It does sound dreadful, doesn't it? Peggy loathesit put together. She says her mother does too. She had to be named that for her grandmother because she's going to inherit her money some day. Isn't it splendid that there is such a rage for old-fashioned names now? Peggy says it will make an awful hit with her grandmother when she hears that she is being called Jerusha. She thinks it quite likely that she will do something nice for her. Peggy thinks that she will change the spelling of it though. She thought some of 'Jerrushia.' It is much more foreign sounding, isn't it?"
"It's much more ridiculous," Blue Bonnet said with some impatience. "You children must lie awake nights thinking up these weighty subjects. Jerrushia! Really, Carita, I am amazed at you!"
Which showed that Blue Bonnet was advancing, both in taste and wisdom. "Nearly seventeen" has its advantages over "only fifteen."
This conversation had taken place one afternoon in Blue Bonnet's room during chatting hour, and had been interrupted by the hasty entrance of Sue Hemphill, who was very much excited.
"Blue Bonnet! look here! See what just came in the mail! You have one, too, and so has Annabel! Oh, such a lark! Run down to the box quickly and get your letters!"
Carita was off in a twinkling to save Blue Bonnet the trouble.
Sue threw the letter into Blue Bonnet's lap.
"Read it," she said. "It's from Billy. We're invited to a tea at Harvard. Mrs. White is to chaperon us. It's to be next Friday afternoon, and the boys are coming for us in an automobile."
Blue Bonnet looked as if she didn't quite understand.
"But—Sue, can we go? Will Miss North let us?"
"Oh, yes—with Mrs. White. Why not? You're not doing penance for anything are you?"
"No, certainly not! But it seems quite unusual; going off with a lot of boys like that."
"A lot of boys! There's only Billy, and Hammie McVickar, and an escort for me—Billy doesn't say what his name is. I don't call that such a terrible lot; and Harvard is quite respectable. At least, it is supposed to be."
Sue made a funny little grimace that brought all her dimples into play.
"I think it would be glorious, Sue. I certainly hope Miss North will let us accept."
"She will," Sue said confidently. "She let us go last year. Such fun! It makes me laugh to think of it yet. We went to Billy's rooms. He had a caterer and a great spread. Tea and sandwiches; all kinds of cakes, candies—a huge box for each of us to carry home; and the most beautiful ice-cream with nuts in it. Um! I can taste it yet. Oh, but it was larky!"
"It must have been," Blue Bonnet admitted.
"This time, Billy says, it is to be very select. What he calls a close corporation! Just you and Annabel and I, and Mrs. White. They sent Mrs. White a separate invitation. Wasn't that clever of them, since we just had to have a chaperon? I'm going over to her room now to see if she'll accept. Come along."
Mrs. White evidently felt complimented by the invitation. She was looking it over when the girls entered.
"Of course you won't refuse, Mrs. White, will you?" Sue implored, arms about Mrs. White's shoulders. "Billy quite dotes on you, you know. He says in my note that you've just got to come. He and Hammie will accept no substitute. Billy would be so awfully disappointed if you didn't come."
Mrs. White smiled pleasantly.
"I wouldn't hurt Billy for the world, Susan," she said. The teachers always called Sue "Susan"—those who had known her since her entrance as a very young girl. "You know I never inflict unnecessary pain. I happen to know just how hard your friends would take my refusal. I will consult Miss North."
"Will you? Will you really? Oh, you are such a dear, Mrs. White. And try to show her how very necessary it is for us all to go. Billy does getsolonely without me—we're such chums. Father feels dreadfully to have us separated as we are."
Mrs. White promised to put the matter before Miss North as diplomatically as possible, and let the girls know her decision at the earliest possible moment.
"I think afternoon tea is the loveliest thing," Sue said, as they went back to Blue Bonnet's room for a brief visit. "There's something about it that makes one feel so grown up—so sort of lady-like! I've always said that when I keep house—I shall, you know, for father, as soon as I am through school—that I'll serve tea every afternoon, rain or shine, at five o'clock, and advertise the fact among all my friends."
"It's very hospitable," Blue Bonnet replied absently. "Do they have tea every afternoon at Harvard?"
Sue gave a shriek; then she went off into one of her infectious peals of laughter.
"Blue Bonnet! Oh, that's ripping! At Harvard. What do you take them for?"
"I don't know that that's such an awfulfaux pas," Blue Bonnet said with asperity. "They always have afternoon tea at Oxford. Alec Trent has a friend there and he told him so."
"Well—in England—that's different. It's so awfully English, you know."
"That's why I thought maybe they did it atHarvard. Because it is so awfully English, you know!"
Blue Bonnet's eyes twinkled mischievously.
A few hours later, as the girls were on their way to the gymnasium to dance, Mrs. White overtook Sue and stopped her for a moment.
"It is all right, Susan," she said. "Miss North is very glad to have you accept your brother's invitation for Friday afternoon, and I shall go with pleasure."
Sue's feet took wings as she caught up with Blue Bonnet and Annabel.
"We can go," she announced breathlessly. "Friday! Harvard! I just knew we could. Isn't it great? At two-thirty, remember! And girls! Don't forget—borrow everything you can, and look stunning!"
Back to contents
Stillnessreigned in the study hall: stillness save for the occasional rattle of a book, or the falling of a pen or pencil from careless fingers. The large clock at the back of the room ticked regularly, and its hands pointed to a quarter past one.
At the desk Fraulein Herrmann sat, her watchful eyes roaming over the assemblage in search of idleness or disorder. Only a moment before her stentorian tones had rung forth, much to the annoyance of two girls who came under her supervision.
"Emma-lineand Jassa-mineBrown may report at the desk at the end of the period."
Emmalyn and Jassamine Brown, twins, were as much the bane of Fraulein's life as were Mary Boyd and Peggy Austin. Fraulein was not stupid. She had learned that to call forth these names, distorting them with almost unrecognizable inflection, brought its own punishment.
Emmalyn slammed down a book on her desk, her face flushed with mortification. She whispered something to her sister.
"You may say what you have to say to the room, Miss Emma-line," Fraulein invited.
Emmalyn paid not the slightest heed.
"Miss Brown! Answer when I speak! Why do you not answer?"
"I didn't know you were addressing me. My name is not Emma-line!" She drew out the "line" with provoking mimicry.
Fraulein reddened; but she held her peace. She had encountered Emmalyn Brown before. Sometimes disastrously.
At her desk Blue Bonnet worked busily, glancing often at the clock. She was writing a theme, and writing against time. At one-forty-five her paper must be in Professor Howe's hands. There was a strained expression in her eyes as, elbow on desk, she ran her fingers through her hair by way of inducement to thought.
"It's no use," she said in a whisper to Wee Watts, who occupied a seat with her, "I can't get my brain in working order to-day to save me. Have you a glimmer of an idea about Emerson's essay on 'Compensation?' I've got to write it up."
Wee's face looked as blank as a stone wall.
"Emerson! Heavens, no! He's as deep as the sea. Ask me something easy, Blue Bonnet. My grey matter's at your disposal—what's left of it. I think I've overtaxed it with my own theme. Do you know anything about hypnotism?"
"Hypnotism! I should say not. Look out! Fraulein's weather eye is turned this way.
"I think it's the tea we're going to this afternoon that's distracting me," Blue Bonnet confessed, when Fraulein had removed the weather eye. "I can't seem to get it out of my mind. I know we're going to have a perfectly wonderful time. I wish you were going, Wee."
"Yes—it would be lovely. I suppose Annabel has borrowed everything in sight. I've given her my Egyptian bracelet and my jade ring. Don't let her have your furs to-day. You look so pretty in them yourself."
"Oh, she doesn't want them," Blue Bonnet answered loyally. "I think she's going to get Angela's. They are white fox—almost like mine. Oh, bother! What on earth is 'compensation,' anyway? I've read this essay ten times and it's perfect Greek to me. Don't you know, Wee, really? This thing has got to be handed in in twenty minutes."
Wee searched through her desk for a dictionary.
"Look it up," she suggested, turning to the C's. "Sometimes you can get a start that way."
Blue Bonnet gathered up dictionary and papers and moved to a vacant seat.
"Thank you so much, Wee," she whispered in passing, "I've got to sit alone where I can think. You'renice, but you'retooentertaining."
Again she plunged into her subject and for a few minutes worked diligently. A white scrap of paper rolled in a ball falling at her feet distracted her attention. She dropped her handkerchief over it in obedience to a slight cough from Sue Hemphill, and drew it into her lap. A second later it lay open in her book.
"Annabel's changed her mind," it read. "She's not going to wear her suit. She thinks she'll wear her new crepe de chine and borrow Patty's fur coat. Don't you think that will make us look out of place in just waists and suits? Answer."
Blue Bonnet crumpled the note in her hand and looked at the clock anxiously. She didn't give a rap what Annabel wore. It was half past one, and she had but three paragraphs written on her theme. She read them through again. They were utterly impossible. She tore the paper into bits and carried the pieces to the waste basket.
Going back to the seat with Wee Watts she put her books in order and awaited the ringing of the gong which signaled the beginning of the next period.
It was unfortunate—for Blue Bonnet at least—that something had happened to disturb Professor Howe's usual calmness of manner. She was irritated. Blue Bonnet felt it in the atmosphere the moment she entered the recitation-room.
"We will begin with Miss Ashe," she said, busying herself with some papers on her desk. "You may read what you have prepared on the Emerson work, Miss Ashe. Come to the front of the room, please."
Blue Bonnet half rose in her seat and her face flushed scarlet.
"I am not prepared, Professor Howe. I am sorry—but—"
"Have you been ill, Miss Ashe?"
"No, not ill,but—"
"Take your seat and remain after the class is dismissed, Miss Ashe."
"This afternoon, Professor Howe? Oh, I can't to-day. It isimpossible—"
Professor Howe made no reply and passed on to the next pupil.
Blue Bonnet did some quick thinking during the next few minutes. How she was to write a theme and get ready to go to Cambridge by three o'clock, was beyond her ability to calculate. Professor Howe would surely excuse her when she explained; explained that she had tried to write the theme and failed—she felt sure of that. But Professor Howe for once was adamant. No explanation sufficed; no amount of pleading prevailed. Blue Bonnet remained after class and, cross and late, reached her room just as Sue and Annabel were leaving theirs, well groomed and immaculate.
"I reckon you'll have to go on without me," shesaid, her eyes filling with tears of vexation and disappointment. "Professor Howe's on a regular rampage to-day. She's kept me all this time over an old composition on Emerson. She's made me loathe Emerson for all time. I shall perfectly hate him from this hour forth. Go on, don't wait! I won't spoil everything for the rest of you."
"Nonsense," Annabel said, pushing Blue Bonnet into her room and taking out her clothes from the closet. "Just hurry a little. The boys aren't here yet. It won't hurt them to wait a few minutes anyway. It's no killing matter. Wash in a little cold water; it'll freshen you."
Blue Bonnet emerged presently from the bathroom, rosy and happy, gave her hair a vigorous brushing, and got into the becoming silk waist that Sue held ready for her.
"Thought you were going to wear your crepe de chine, Annabel. Sue said you were. Did you change your mind?"
"Yes, Sue made such a fuss; said you girls were going to wear your suits. I suppose it is more sensible. Here are your gloves. Lucky they're clean! Got a handkerchief? Come on."
Three more attractive girls it would be hard to find than Annabel, Sue and Blue Bonnet, as they made their way to the reception-room, where the boys were waiting.
Billy presented Sue's escort. A rather fine-looking young fellow by the name of Billings—Ben Billings. "An awfully common name," Sue sniffed to Blue Bonnet at her first opportunity. "Never could abide the name of 'Ben.'"
"Oh, I don't know, Sue," Blue Bonnet replied, "it's probably short for Benjamin. Benjamin Billings isn't so bad. I think it's quite high sounding."
But Benjamin Billings proved to have assets, if he did have a common name. It transpired that he lived in Boston, was a member of a well-known family. In fact the very elegant looking limousine which waited at the curb proved to be his property—or his mother's—and the party went forth in it, gaily.
The ride to Cambridge was delightful. The car just crowded enough to make every one merry and responsive. Blue Bonnet sat squeezed securely between Mrs. White and Billy Hemphill.
Arriving at the college, Billy, who seemed to be the master of ceremonies, went a little ahead of the party, and throwing open the door of his room hospitably ushered the guests in.
"This way," he said, leading them through the sitting-room to the bedroom beyond. "You'll want to take off your wraps."
A trim maid in a neat cap stood waiting to assist the girls with coats and rubbers.
"They're doing it up brown," Sue whispered as Billy left the room. "They've engaged this maidalong with the caterer. Just wait! I do hope they haven't forgotten that heavenly ice-cream like they had before. The kind with the nuts! Oh, girls; look! Isn't that perfectly killing?"
Sue pointed to a vase of flowers on Billy's dresser. They were exquisite pale yellow roses, about which were tied—as stiffly and properly as Billy would have tied his own necktie—two shades of ribbon, green and white, the colors of the North school.
"Well, it's perfectly dear of him, anyway," Sue said, as the girls shook with laughter. "Of course the bowsarefunny, but the boys have done the best they knew how, and it's a pretty compliment,Ithink."
A pretty compliment it was, elaborated upon in the sitting-room. Vases stood in every available corner and space, and the same bows ornamented each bouquet. The girls were eloquent in praise of them.
"Why didn't you try a four-in-hand on this one, Billy?" Sue asked, pointing to a carefully arranged effect of the "string-tie" variety. "Or a—what you call it—an Ascot! An Ascot would be stunning on those orchids."
A laugh went round the room in which Billy joined good naturedly.
"See what you fellows escape by not having a sister," he said, nodding toward McVickar andBillings. His tone was severe, but the loving look that shot from his eyes to the dimpled face close to his own belied the words. Any fellow would have been proud to have had such a sister. Billy appreciated the fact.
"Anyway, I didn't tie the bows," he added. "McVickar did it. 'Fess up, old man. He's been at it all day—sluffed his classes to tie the bunch."
It was Sue's turn to become embarrassed.
"Really?" she said. "Well, they're perfectly lovely—and the idea's so new. I've never seen it used before. I think you should be congratulated, Mr. McVickar. It's a gift to be able to originate!"
Even Billy regarded Sue with admiration, but a knock at the door prevented further discussion.
"Pardon me," Billy said to Mrs. White on the way to open the door. "Surprising how many interruptions a fellow has in a place like this."
On the threshold stood a young man, groomed within an inch of his life; hair faultless; shoes immaculate; tie and scarf pin elaborate.
"Oh, a thousand pardons, Hemphill. Didn't dream you were entertaining. Just looking for a book—Calculus. Haven't seen it knocking about, have you? Fancied I left it here last night. No—No! Couldn't think of stopping. Oh, if you feel that way,old chap—"
Billy, by this time, had got the intruder inside the room and was presenting him to the guests. Mr. Williams looked about with apparent embarrassment and took a seat by Blue Bonnet.
"Fear I'm intruding. Awful bore—fellows running in like this. Didn't dream Hemphill was entertaining. From Boston, I presume, Miss—beg pardon, didn't quite catch the name."
"Ashe," Blue Bonnet said, casting a rather amused glance at the young man's elaborate afternoon toilet.
"Miss Ashe. Not the Ashes of Beacon Street? They're relatives of mine—distant, of course."
"No. I'm from Texas."
"Texas! You're rather a long way from home, aren't you? Texas seems farther away to me than Paris. Great country that—Texas. Lots of cattle and Indiansand—"
"I don't know about Indians. We have cattle—lots! And cowboys. Maybe you're thinking of cowboys?"
But cowboys were farthest from Mr. Williams' mind. Translated his thoughts ran something like this: "Mighty pretty girl, blooming as a rose. Wonder how many of us the chaperon's going to stand for. Plague take it, why didn't Stuart give me a show—needn't have tread on my heels this way."
But Stuart, at the door, stopping only a half moment for a lost overcoat—so he said—wasbeing presented to the ladies. And in Stuart's wake came others. It was amazing how many things had been lost oh the campus; or in Billy Hemphill and Hammie McVickar's rooms.
Mrs. White began to feel nervous. She was in a quandary. She could hardly take her charges away before tea, neither could she ask the young men to leave. She finally decided to settle down comfortably and close her eyes to any irregularities. After all there could be no real harm.
With the utmost cordiality Billy and his room-mate insisted upon their friends remaining to tea, and the men needed but little urging. They made themselves generally agreeable, assisting in the entertaining; passing tea and sandwiches with ease and aplomb.
Mr. Williams kept the seat next to Blue Bonnet and Hammie McVickar dropped down on the other side of her.
"First visit here?" Mr. Williams asked, trying to successfully balance his ice-cream and cake on one knee.
"Yes—that is, it's the first time I've been inside one of the buildings. I came to a ball game last autumn."
"Then you must have a look round before you go."
Blue Bonnet assured him of her willingness if Mrs. White and the others were agreeable.
"You have pleasant quarters here," she said, turning to Mr. McVickar. "If you were at Oxford you would call this room the 'sitter' and that the 'bedder,'" nodding toward the room where they had laid aside their coats.
"Yes—those are the Oxford terms. Know anybody there?"
"Just one man. I've only met him. He's a friend of a friend of mine. He told me about some of the customs. They interested me very much."
Over in her corner, between young Billings and the interloper, Stuart, Sue was having a beautiful time. She had felt free, since it was Billy's party—hence Billy's ice-cream—to permit herself a second helping. Sue was in her element. Billy and her favorite ice-cream—all in one day! It was almost too much.
Annabel, as usual, was the centre of attraction. She was surrounded by a number of "searchers for lost articles," and Blue Bonnet, as she glanced in her direction, could imagine how the men were enjoying her pretty Southern drawl, her always witty remarks. Billy, with great self-sacrifice, devoted himself to Mrs. White, but his glance strayed often to Annabel. Mrs. White must have noticed the anxious glances, for she got up after she had finished her tea and insisted upon talking to Mr. McVickar for a while.
The hour sped all too soon. Before the girls realized it, they had seen the interesting sights of the campus; the big dining-room in Memorial Hall, where twelve hundred students assembled daily; Sanders Theatre and the Fogg Art Museum.
"I'd love to come in here when the men were dining," Annabel remarked, gazing from the balcony down upon the dining-hall.
A quick glance passed between the men. They smiled in unison.
"What's the joke?" Annabel insisted.
"You'd have to come here at mealtime to find out," Billy informed her. "You see, we are a little averse to an audience, and the fellows act up considerably."
"What do they do?"
"Well," Hammie McVickar explained, "when any one enters this balcony every man down there begins pounding with his knife and fork, or anything that's handy, and raising such a din, that guests usually depart—quickly."
"I think that's very rude," Blue Bonnet said, and the men agreed with her politely.
"Wasn't it just like Billy to pick out the biggest bouquet for Mrs. White?" Sue whispered to Annabel, as they were finally leaving the campus. "She adores American beauties, too. Don't you really think he's a dear?"
"He's a diplomat, to say the least," Annabelreplied, laughing. "And a charming host," she added, to palliate Sue's evident disappointment. "Perfectly charming."
"I'm so glad you think so, Annabel, and—do you know—I've a feeling that he likes you awfully, dear. Not from anything he says—but—well, just the way he looks at you sometimes!"
"How absurd, Sue!" Annabel replied, as she hurried to catch up with the rest of the party; but her eyes sparkled and a beautiful flush crimsoned her lovely face.
After the lights were out that night, Blue Bonnet, with utter disregard of rules, slipped into Annabel's room to talk things over. It was an excellent opportunity, as Ruth had left in the afternoon for a week-end at home.
Sue had already arrived and was comfortably ensconced on the couch in bath-robe and slippers.
"Good!" she cried, drawing Blue Bonnet down beside her while Annabel stirred the fire. "Now, we'll have a regular old-fashioned gossip." The fire, after some coaxing, broke into a ruddy glow, and Annabel, dropping before it on the rug, took down her hair and began brushing it systematically. Annabel never, under any circumstances, neglected her hair. It was one of her chief attractions, and its soft, glossy texture testified to this regular treatment.
"My, but you're enterprising," Blue Bonnet said, as Annabel brushed diligently, counting each stroke. "I couldn't brush my hair that way every night if my life depended upon it. Don't you ever feel too tired to do it?"
"Oh, yes—sometimes; but it doesn't pay to neglect it. Wasn't it glorious over at the college to-day? Didn't you just adore it?"
"Loved it!" Blue Bonnet said rapturously, while Sue clasped her arms about her knees and gazed into the fire dreamily. "I think it was perfectly dear of Sue's brother to have us; and weren't those nice men who drifted in? Do you think any of them had really lost anything?"
Annabel laughed.
"I told them that they ought to form a St. Anthony society. There's strength in union."
"Who's St. Anthony?"
"He's the saint that some people pray to when they've lost things. He helps find them."
"Annabel—that's sacrilegious!"
"I didn't mean it to be. The boys didn't take it that way, I'm sure."
"That Billings person was quite nice after all, wasn't he?" Sue wakened from her dream long enough to remark. "I rather liked him. He's awfully devoted to Billy. It was quite touching the way he talked about him."
Blue Bonnet and Annabel laughed outright.
Sue was indignant.
"I don't see anything to laugh at. What's the matter with him?"
"Nothing. I think he's fine," Annabel answered. "And so clever! Just think of any one being discerning enough to find the way into Sue's good graces by the Billy route!"
Sue got up and drawing her bath-robe closer about her started for the door.
"I think I'll say good night," she said. "I have a Latin exam to-morrow and I've set my alarm for five-thirty."
But Annabel, intercepting, drew her to the hearth-rug and began humble apologies.
"Don't be silly, there's an old dear. I was only teasing—you know that. You're not going for an hour yet. Come to think of it, you'll not go at all; you'll sleep in Ruth's bed. We've loads to discuss, loads! We haven't mentioned Hammie McVickar or that Mr. what's his name—Stuart, wasn't it? or the refreshments. Come to think of it, Blue Bonnet's going to stay, too. We'll roll the couch over here by the fire and give her my down comfort—or my bed, if she prefers it."
An invitation that was accepted after some protest by both.
"But I've simply got to get up early, Annabel," Sue insisted. "I don't want to wake you and Blue Bonnet."
"I'm rising with the dawn myself, thank you, my dear," and in a whisper Annabel sang:
"'There's going to beThere's going to beThere's going to beA Physics test.The girls will shiver round the hall,Waiting for the bell to callThem to the test.And the greasy grinds will murmur:"'Every little molecule has a magnet all its own,Every little North Pole by its action may be known,And every feelingThat comes stealing'Round its being,Must be revealingMagnetic force lines,In some appealingLittle actionAll its own.'"
"'There's going to beThere's going to beThere's going to beA Physics test.The girls will shiver round the hall,Waiting for the bell to callThem to the test.And the greasy grinds will murmur:
"'Every little molecule has a magnet all its own,Every little North Pole by its action may be known,And every feelingThat comes stealing'Round its being,Must be revealingMagnetic force lines,In some appealingLittle actionAll its own.'"
"And you won't be disturbing me in the least, Sue," Blue Bonnet said, "for I'm with you both. I want to have a little 'heart-to-heart' session with Mr. Emerson in the morning on his compensation article. I believe that I can do it justice now that the tea is over."
"But I must get my clock, Annabel. If it should go off at daylight, and Wee found me missing, there'd be trouble."
"All right, trot along, Sue; but come back instantly."
Is it necessary to add that, after talking until the wee small hours of morning, daylight found three girls peacefully slumbering, utterly oblivious to the faithful alarm which trilled forth its summons to unheeding ears?
It was Blue Bonnet who first opened her eyes to the broad sunlight, and sat up with a start. It took her a full minute to get her bearings: then she rushed to Annabel's bed and shook that young person roundly.
"Annabel! Annabel! Sue! For goodness' sake, get up! It's seven-thirty this minute. I hear the girls now, going to breakfast. How am I ever to get into my own room for my clothes? Oh, I never should have stayed here last night—I knew that I shouldn't all the time."
But Sue, sitting up in Ruth's bed, rubbed her eyes vigorously and poured oil on the troubled waters.
"Don't get so excited, Blue Bonnet. It's no killing matter to be late to breakfast. You'll only get a mark in the 'Doomsday Book;' and thank your lucky stars the girlsaregoing down to breakfast. When they're all gone you can slip out easily."
"Yes—but oh, my Emerson!"
"Emerson isn't a patching to a Latin exam!"
"And the two couldn't match up with a Physics test!" Annabel groaned, putting on her clothes with eager haste. "I have a vision of the mark I'll get!"
She went to the door and took a sweeping glance down the hall.
"Coast's clear," she announced. "Shoo—both of you."
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Springhad come at last. In Woodford, up among the hills, the We Are Sevens—or "Sixes," in the absence of Blue Bonnet—were celebrating its advent with a riding party.
It was Saturday afternoon, as might be suspected from the leisurely way the girls rode through the woods, stopping often to admire the maples and elms and the beautiful chestnuts, just beginning to feel the thrill of life after their long winter nap.
"Seems to me those leaves grow greener while you wait," Kitty Clark said, reining her horse beside a chuckling brook and pointing to a near-by birch grove. "I feel just like this water. I want to run as fast as I can, calling, 'Spring is here! Spring is here!' Don't you perfectly love this odor of growing things? Listen to that phœbe! Doesn't it sound as if he were saying, 'Spring's come! Spring's come!'"
She was off her horse before the other girls had time to answer, climbing the steep sides of the glen in search of the first hepaticas.
"Here they are!" she called back joyfully amoment later. Under the lichen-plastered rocks, among the damp leaves, the delicate blossoms peeped forth shyly. Kitty fell upon her knees and buried her nose in the delicious fragrance.
"Oh, the darlings!" Debby exclaimed, close behind. "Girls! Let's gather as many as we can find, and send a box of them to Blue Bonnet. Remember how she raved over them last year? She said they were almost as lovely as the blue bonnets that bloom in Texas about this time."
The suggestion met with instant approval, and for the next half hour six girls worked busily.
"Seems to me they're awfully early this year," Amanda said, searching under the mahogany colored leaves for the little furred heads. "I never knew them to come before April."
"Oh, you forget from year to year, Amanda," Kitty reminded. "Anyway, it's almost April. A week from to-day is the first. That's the day Blue Bonnet gets here. And, by the way, I have a letter from Blue Bonnet. It came just as I was leaving the house and I waited until we were all together to read it. Suppose we go up on the hill a little farther and get in a patch of sunshine. It's a trifle chilly in the shade, even if Mr. Phœbe does keep insisting that 'Spring's come!'"
"Humph! Short and sweet," Kitty commented, as she drew forth the letter. "Suppose it is because she will be with us so soon."
"Dearest Girls:—"This is a joint letter to-day. I am so busy with exams this week that I can't do much letter writing. The tests have been something awful. The girls say they grow stiffer all the time—- but no matter! I daresay you have troubles in this line of your own."I have the pleasure to inform you, girls, that Uncle Cliff will be in Boston the first day of April, and that he has written me to invite the We Are Sevens to be his guests at the Copley Plaza for three days, beginning on that date. This means that we shall all return to Woodford together for the rest of my vacation. I hope nothing will prevent your acceptance. Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda have been included in the invitation, so you will be well chaperoned. Please answer as soon as possible, so that Uncle Cliff can make his reservations at the hotel. I know that we are going to have a splendid time. Bring your prettiest clothes, as there will be something doing every minute. I can hardly wait to see you all, and to have the 'Lambs' meet you.
"Dearest Girls:—
"This is a joint letter to-day. I am so busy with exams this week that I can't do much letter writing. The tests have been something awful. The girls say they grow stiffer all the time—- but no matter! I daresay you have troubles in this line of your own.
"I have the pleasure to inform you, girls, that Uncle Cliff will be in Boston the first day of April, and that he has written me to invite the We Are Sevens to be his guests at the Copley Plaza for three days, beginning on that date. This means that we shall all return to Woodford together for the rest of my vacation. I hope nothing will prevent your acceptance. Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda have been included in the invitation, so you will be well chaperoned. Please answer as soon as possible, so that Uncle Cliff can make his reservations at the hotel. I know that we are going to have a splendid time. Bring your prettiest clothes, as there will be something doing every minute. I can hardly wait to see you all, and to have the 'Lambs' meet you.