"Hoping to hear from you very soon,"I am, ever with dearest love,Blue Bonnet."
"Hoping to hear from you very soon,"I am, ever with dearest love,Blue Bonnet."
There was an instant's silence after Kitty stopped reading, and then everybody broke forth at once.
"At the Copley Plaza! For three days! To visit Blue Bonnet!"
"Isn't it a blessing that our vacation begins on the first, too?" Debby said. "There ought not to be a thing to hinder our going."
"Nothing but—just one thing, Debby. It takes a lot of pretty clothes to stay in a place like the Copley Plaza. And those 'Lambs!' Blue Bonnet says they dress beautifully. Now, what have we got to wear in a crowd like that?"
"If they're going to like us just for our clothes, Kitty!" protested Amanda. "Besides, you have that new blue voile; you're a dream in it; and Sarah has her wine-colored henrietta. Maybe the rest of us could scrape up something; there's—let's see, four or five days yet."
"Maybe we could get something in Boston," Debby suggested. "Blue Bonnet says they have wonderful bargains. You know she got all her clothes for school ready made, and they were as stylish as could be."
"Perhaps we could; that's an idea, Debby," Kitty remarked thankfully. "It's time for spring clothes anyway. We shouldn't want Blue Bonnet to be ashamed of us."
Debby scoffed.
"Blue Bonnet wouldn't be ashamed of us—no matter what we wear. She's not that kind."
"But she'd like to be proud of us, nevertheless.Those 'Lambs' come from awfully rich families; they must, or they couldn't be in that school. It costs a small fortune to go there."
"Blue Bonnet says they are not a bit airy, though, Kitty; and you hardly ever hear a word about money. Blue Bonnet says Miss North is a regular stickler for simplicity, and that she's forever telling the girls where to place values in this world."
"Where does she place them—these values? What are values anyway?"
It was Sarah's turn to speak up quietly.
"I believe I know," she said. "That's one of father's hobbies. It means getting a true estimate of life. We should value things that are worth while, like education and refinement, honesty and courage. It's very vulgar to put value on money; gentle birth and good breeding count for much more."
"I guess our grandsires could measure up with anybody's," Amanda said proudly. "We're every one eligible to the Daughters of the Revolution."
"What's the matter with the We Are Sevens?" Kitty shouted, and the rest took up the cry:
"Who's all right? We're all right!"
Down the hill they ran merrily, and scrambled into saddles for a wild gallop home. Such news was too good to keep, and before the evening was half spent, arrangements were completed for the coming event, and a letter posted to Blue Bonnet.
And in Boston a young girl awaited the first of April with joy that knew no bounds.
"Only two days more until Uncle Cliff comes, now, Joy," she said, tearing a leaf off from the calendar. "Seems to me I just can't wait. I never was so anxious to see him in my life."
Joy smiled sympathetically.
"It will be lovely," she said. "And you have planned so many things to do, Blue Bonnet. I've been wondering if your uncle will wish to keep all these engagements."
Blue Bonnet turned toward Joy quickly.
"You don't know Uncle Cliff," she said gaily. "He'll have the time of his life. He wrote me that three days were at my disposal; to fill them any way I chose. Want to hear the program?"
"Love to," Joy answered.
"Well, Uncle Cliff gets here the morning of the first; that's Friday."
She went to her desk and taking out an engagement book, began turning the leaves hastily.
"Arrives at eight-fifteen. That ought to get him up here about nine, at the very latest."
"Oh, let the poor man get his breakfast first."
"He'll have that on the train, thank you. Then let me see; yes—here: Nine o'clock, visit with Uncle Cliff. Ten, shopping. Eleven o'clock, hospital. I have a little plan about that. One, luncheon. Two o'clock, matinee—or something;haven't planned that yet. Five, meet Aunt Lucinda and the girls from Woodford. Eight,theatre—"
"Mercy, Blue Bonnet, what a mad scramble! And after a five days' journey across the continent I should think your uncle would be dead!"
"I hadn't thought of that," Blue Bonnet said, contritely. "Perhaps wehadbetter cut out the matinee. I shouldn't wonder if we had. It would be hard on Grandmother, too. But you have to do a lot, Joy! Three days slip away before you know it. Now that brings us up to Saturday, doesn't it? Saturday; let me see. Here it is! Saturday,a. m.: Nine o'clock, shopping. Have a little plan about that, too, if Uncle Cliff's willing; know he will be. One, lunch. Two, motor ride. Six o'clock, dinner for the Lambs and the We Are Sevens. You're in on that, too, Joy; you and Mrs. White. Eight, theatre. Sunday. Eleven o'clock, church at Trinity; hope the Bishop preaches. Two o'clock, visit with relatives. Seven, tea—at relatives, probably. Monday morning—Woodford. Sounds fascinating, doesn't it?"
"Alluring, Blue Bonnet. I hope you'll have a happy time."
"I shall, I'm sure, Joy. I've got to run up-stairs now a minute to talk things over with Carita. Carita goes with me to Woodford for the rest of the vacation."
"Begins to look like a holiday," Blue Bonnetthought as she went through the halls and noticed the trunks at each door. "Wonder if Carita is packing."
But Carita was not packing. She was sitting listlessly in a chair by the window, looking a bit forlorn.
"What's the matter, Carita?" Blue Bonnet inquired.
"Nothing."
"Nothing? You look as if you had the blues."
"No—only—"
"Only what?"
Tears welled in Carita's eyes.
"Only what, dear?" Blue Bonnet's arms were round her.
"I reckon it's just a touch of homesickness. It's seeing the girls packing to go home. I want so to see mother—and Baby Joe. They says he's so darling now. Oh, my arms just ache to hold him sometimes, Blue Bonnet—and—and—Texas is so far away, isn't it?"
The tears were coming in a flood now, and Blue Bonnet got out her handkerchief to stop the flow.
"There! there!" she said. "Just think what a good time we're going to have with Uncle Cliff; and it's only a little while until the tenth of June. Why, the time will just fly after Easter, and—oh, my dear, be thankful that you have a mother to go to—suppose—"
But Carita had turned suddenly and gathered Blue Bonnet in a loving embrace.
"How selfish I am," she said, between sobs. "I didn't think, Blue Bonnet—really, I didn't."
"Of course you didn't. And I didn't mean to remind you; it just slipped out. Sometimes it does, when I see girls crying for their mothers and I remember that I shall—never—have mine. Now, don't cry—please don't. Where's Mary?"
Through her tears Carita smiled.
"She and Peg—Jerusha Austin are down in the office. Fraulein is after them again. Last night, when the trunks were brought up, Mary and Peggy waited until the lights were out and then they fixed up a tick-tack. They hid in the trunks and worked the thing for almost an hour. It was awfully spooky—nearly scared Fraulein to death. She's just furious at both of them."
"How did she find them?"
"Oh, Mary got the giggles! Mary would laugh at her own funeral. Peggy was so cross at her. Fraulein traced the giggles to Mary's trunk."
At that instant the door opened and Mary came in, followed by Peggy.
"What did you get this time, Mary?" Carita asked.
Mary, laughed sheepishly.
"You talk as if I'd been sentenced," she said,smiling, and showing every one of her beautiful teeth.
"Weren't you?"
"No, not this time. Miss North was so disgusted she didn't do a thing. She made us feel as if we were infants; said she thought smothering in a trunk for an hour was punishment enough for anybody. She just talked!"
"And—talked!" Peggy added.
"She said that we'd so wrecked Fraulein's nerves—Peg and I—that Fraulein was leaving the school—wasn't coming back after Easter."
"Really? Is that true, Peggy?"
"That we've wrecked her nerves? Hardly. That's just letting her down easy. Miss North's dead tired of her, herself."
"Who's going to take her place?"
"Miss North didn't take us into her confidence," Mary said flippantly. "But I shouldn't wonder if Joy Cross substituted until they get somebody. Joy's a whiz in German. She's had us two or three times lately when Fraulein was having one of her tantrums—beg pardon, nervous break-ups."
Blue Bonnet rose to go.
"Wait a minute, Blue Bonnet," Carita said. "I've some news for you. What do you think! Knight Judson's coming to Boston; my cousin, you know. He's coming with your Uncle Cliff. I've just had a letter."
"Knight Judson! What for?"
"He's always wanted to come, and now he has the opportunity. He's been wild to study engineering, saved his money for it for a long time. Well—he had a chance to come on and do a little work at the Massachusetts Tech. It's awfully late in the year, of course, to enter, but he wants to look up a lot of things and be ready to start in the fall. I'm so anxious to see him. He'll have so much news from home."
"And Sandy? Why didn't he come, too?"
"He will, next year."
"It will be fine to see Knight again," Blue Bonnet said. "Alec will be delighted to know he's coming. They were great friends in Texas."
"Yes, Knight is going to Washington first, then on to Woodford for a few days, with Alec."
"How splendid! Oh, Carita, everything is going so beautifully that it almost makes me afraid. I feel as if the fairies had given me three wishes and they had all come true. I don't know whether I can walk down-stairs or not. I feel like taking a flying leap."
"Take the banister," Mary suggested. "It's safer, and heaps more fun. I tried it yesterday."
Blue Bonnet looked properly shocked.
"Fortunate you didn't run into any one," she remarked.
"But I did! A nice lady who was trying to find Madam de Cartier. We fell—all in a heap!"
The morning of the first of April broke clear and calm.
"Even the weather is on my side," Blue Bonnet said. "I ought to be the very happiest girl in the world—and I am!"
It was a busy time at the school; a general breaking up for spring vacation. In the halls girls scurried in every direction and hasty good-bys were said; trunks were carried out noisily by careless expressmen to the vans that stood waiting outside.
"Terribly exciting, isn't it?" Sue said, passing Blue Bonnet in the hall shortly after breakfast. "I'm so glad Annabel and I are staying over until Monday. Has your uncle arrived yet?"
"I'm just watching for him. He should be here in about ten minutes. I'm keeping my eye on the front door—oh, Sue, there's a ring now; perhaps it's he! It is! It is!"
And the next moment Blue Bonnet was folded in her uncle's arms.
"Uncle Cliff! dear Uncle Cliff!" she cried, rapturously, while she led him toward the reception-room, holding to his arm tightly as if by some chance he might escape. "How ever did you get up here so soon? It's only a quarter to nine, now."
"Taxi, Honey. And the train was on time,fortunately. Come over to the light and let me have a look at you. Why, child, how you have grown! And what's this—long dresses! Honey, Honey, where's Uncle Cliff's little girl?"
There was a note in the man's voice that struck deep at the girl's heart.
"Here she is," she cried, snuggling into the warm embrace again. "She'll never be anything but a little girl to you—never! That's proper length—just a speck below my shoe-tops. Will you sit here a minute while I find Carita? Poor Carita has been a little homesick the last few days. It's seeing the girls start for home, I reckon."
She was away in a trice, bringing back Carita, who welcomed Uncle Cliff with almost as much enthusiasm as Blue Bonnet had.
"Now the plans, Honey. What are they?" Mr. Ashe said, looking at his watch. "Have you had breakfast?"
"Uncle Cliff! An hour ago."
"Well, I haven't. Suppose you get your things together—both of you—and come over to the hotel with me right away. The taxi is waiting."
It didn't take the girls long to get their suitcases and run back to Mr. Ashe.
"All ready?" he inquired.
"Just as soon as we say good-by to Miss North."
At the hotel Blue Bonnet and Carita found themselves in the daintiest suite of rooms imaginable.
"I will come for you in twenty minutes," Mr. Ashe said. "Then we will go down to breakfast. I have a suspicion that you could eat another bite if you tried, while we talk over the plans. Suppose you have them all settled, Honey?"
"Yes, I have, Uncle Cliff. It's going to be very strenuous, too, I'm afraid. I hope you aren't awfully,awfullytired."
At which Uncle Cliff smiled one of his tender, adoring smiles, and patted Blue Bonnet's shoulder affectionately.
"I think I shall be equal to the demand," he said, and was off.
In the dining-room a cosy table was found for three. Many a head turned in passing to gaze at the little party, who, oblivious to time or surroundings, chatted merrily.
It was after they had left the dining-room, that Blue Bonnet, pausing at her uncle's door, asked Carita if she would mind going on to their rooms for just a minute: she had something she must say to Uncle Cliff alone—a secret.
"It's this, Uncle Cliff," she said, when the door had closed, "I want to talk something over with you before Aunt Lucinda comes. You see, I'm not quite sure she'd approve of it, and I want so much to do it. That is—I want to, if we can—without hurting anybody's feelings."
"All right, Honey. What is it?"
She was holding on to Uncle Cliff's coat lapels now, and looking up into his face with the childish trust and confidence she had shown since babyhood, and the man's arm went round her as of old, protectingly.
"You see, it's this way, Uncle Cliff. There's that dinner for the Lambs and the We Are Sevens to-morrow night. Every single one of the Lambs ordered a new gown to wear. I didn't want them to—but they would do it—and—I'm afraid it's going to make the We Are Sevens sort of uncomfortable. So I was thinking, Uncle Cliff—I waswishingthat—we—you and I, maybe—could have a little shopping expedition to-morrow morningand—"
She stopped short, not knowing how to go on without putting herself in the wrong light.
"You understand—don't you, Uncle Cliff? It isn't that I'd be ashamed of the girls; you know that. Their clothes are all right—only I know how girls feel not to be dressed quite like others. It makes them awkward and ill at ease,and—"
Mr. Ashe bent over and imprinted a kiss on the brown head, and for a moment his eyes were suspiciously bright.
"I understand perfectly, Honey," he said.
"But just how could we do it, Uncle Cliff—get them some pretty things without making them think—that—that their things weren't right,—good enough, you know? It's an awfully delicate matter."
"SHE WAS HOLDING ON TO UNCLE CLIFF'S COAT LAPELS.""SHE WAS HOLDING ON TO UNCLE CLIFF'SCOAT LAPELS."
"So it is, Honey, but I think we can find a way. Was it some pretty frocks you wanted to give them?"
"Oh, if I onlycould, Uncle Cliff. Gowns and slippers to match, and I'd thought of some pretty evening wraps, too. You see, we're going to the theatre, and supper afterward, and the Lambs have such pretty ones. We could afford it, couldn't we? There's no one to spend money on but poor little me."
Mr. Ashe laughed as he smoothed out a pucker in his niece's brow.
"I don't think you need worry about the expense," he said. "You are very fortunate in that respect, Blue Bonnet, and you know I always approve of spending money where it means happiness. Do you need a new frock, too,—and Carita, perhaps?"
"We could each use one," Blue Bonnet answered, "though I suppose Aunt Lucinda wouldn't exactly thinkIneeded it."
"This isn't Aunt Lucinda's affair," Mr. Ashe replied quickly. "It's mine, Honey. How would this do? We'll take the We Are Sevens shopping with us to-morrow morning and when you and Carita have selected your gowns I will suggest thatthe others select too—a little gift from me—or from you, if you think best."
Blue Bonnet clapped her hands with delight.
"The very thing," she cried. "Then they can't think it was planned. They'll be so delighted. Oh, Uncle Cliff, you are so dear,so dear!" The last dear was emphasized with a resounding kiss. "I'm so happy;so happythat it seems as if I couldn't stand it. Isn't this a beautiful old world? Now, we must hurry. I want to get you out to the hospital to see Gabriel the very first thing."
Blue Bonnet had explained at breakfast all about Gabriel, and Uncle Cliff had said little. But he was ready for further investigation.
"I'm not sure that I like the idea of you going about these hospitals, Honey—especially where patients are tubercular. You can contract these things, you know."
Blue Bonnet laughed her scorn.
"How perfectly ridiculous! I'm as healthy as ever I can be. Why, look at me! I've put on eight pounds in three months. That's the very worst of boarding-school—- it's bound to make you fat. Poor Wee Watts is discouraged to death."
At the hospital, although it was not visiting hour, they were allowed to see Gabriel.
"He's not been so well the past week," Miss Warren, the nurse, said. "I think it is the confinement. It is beginning to tell upon him. He ought to be out in the country in the sunshine."
Blue Bonnet sat down on the bed and took hold of the little hand. It was hot and feverish.
"What's the matter, Gabriel?" she said. "This won't do. You promised me that you would get well."
"I will," the child maintained stoutly. "There ain't nothing the matter." The bright eyes flashed a smile.
"We're twins,—me and her," Gabriel announced, directing his remarks to Mr. Ashe. "Our birthdays are the same."
"So I understand."
"Are you her father?"
"Yes, and her uncle, too."
Gabriel seemed mystified.
"You see, I haven't any father—or mother either, Gabriel. My uncle has to be both," Blue Bonnet explained.
"That's like me, too. I'm a orphant!"
Blue Bonnet caught her breath quickly. To be an orphan—and ill; desperately poor, too! The world wasn't such a cheerful place after all.
"I lent the soldiers to another feller," Gabriel said presently. "He's sicker than I am."
"Then you shall have some more, Gabriel. It was fine of you to be so unselfish."
"I wasn't. They made me!"
The nurse started to explain. Gabriel interrupted.
"I want my own—they can fight like—I didn't say it, did I? I told you I wouldn't never again, Miss Warren."
Miss Warren's brow cleared.
"These children have some street expressions that are hard to break," she said. "Gabriel is trying very hard to be a gentleman. He got so excited over the soldiers, Miss Ashe, that we had to take them away."
"Shesays—" Gabriel began, pointing to Blue Bonnet, "she says you got ponies where you live, an' you can ride 'em. Can you?"
Mr. Ashe smiled.
"Yes. Lots of them. Would you like to ride a pony, Gabriel?"
"Bet yer!"
Mr. Ashe rose and took the nurse to one side.
"Just how ill is this child?" he asked, much moved. "Is there any chance for his recovery?"
"Yes—yes, indeed, under the right conditions. He has tuberculosis of the knee. If only a home could be found for him in the country! He's an unusually bright child, and so lovable. I feel sure that he must come from excellent Jewish people, though he was brought here from the tenement district a few months ago—just after his mother died."
"And you think he'd have a chance in the country?"
"I'm very sure of it, sir."
Mr. Ashe turned away abruptly. Before his eyes swept a vision of the Blue Bonnet ranch—its vast roaming acres; its clear beautiful skies and warm sunshine; of old, lonely Benita, and Uncle Joe. There was ample roomthere—room that shamed him when he looked at this pitiful wasted bit of humanity dying for the need of what it offered.
He went back to the little cot and touched Blue Bonnet's arm lightly.
"Come, Honey," he said. "I think it's time we were going. We'll see Gabriel again."
Back to contents
"Blue Bonnet! Do you really truly mean it?"
Kitty Clark stood before a pile of fluffy, shimmering gowns at Hollander's, her hands clasped ecstatically, her face wreathed in smiles.
"Girls!" she cried, "Sarah! Amanda! Did you hear what Blue Bonnet said? We are each to choose a gown—a dinner gown and a party coat; gifts from Mr. Ashe. Did you ever hear of anything so splendid in your lives? Just fancy being able tochoosewhat one really wants, and not something that will 'do nicely!' A party coat, too, Blue Bonnet? You're sure you're not mistaken? Why, it will cost a fearful lot for six of us!"
"I don't think you need worry about that, Kitty Kat. Uncle Cliff isn't minding the price. Just choose something pretty and becoming. Carita and I are to select, too. Come on, girls!"
"But, Blue Bonnet!" it was practical Sarah who spoke, "we mustn't be extravagant just because your uncle has been so good. Didn't he put a limit on the price?"
"No, he did not, Sarah. Uncle Cliff doesn't put a limit on what he gives. He said to get what you each liked. You'd better get busy. Kitty's going to have the pick if you don't."
Kitty was already holding up the daintiest blue embroidered chiffon.
"Isn't this perfectly exquisite?" she said, catching Blue Bonnet's glance. The saleswoman came forward with a pale green messaline.
"The young lady could wear either of these, with her hair," she remarked.
"Put one of them on, Kitty," Blue Bonnet suggested. "One could hardly choose, they are both so dear. The blue one is simpler, I think, and blue is your color."
Kitty emerged presently from the dressing-room in the blue gown. The girls exclaimed in a breath. Kitty looked charming. The saleswoman selected a blue velvet wrap of a darker shade and threw it over Kitty's shoulders. The effect was enchanting.
"Kitty!" Blue Bonnet cried, "that's simply stunning! Wait a minute—keep it on until I get Grandmother and Uncle Cliff."
Grandmother and Uncle Cliff beheld the transformation in silence for a minute. Grandmother spoke first.
"It is very beautiful, Kitty—very—but I fear—Is it not a little old for you, dear?"
Kitty looked her disappointment, and the saleswoman came to the rescue.
"The gown is one of our young girl models, madam, and really very simple. The coat is not elaborate either. Indeed it is very plain—as coats go now. I think the young lady could scarcely make a mistake in choosing them."
Mr. Ashe smiled his approval.
"You like them, Kitty?" he asked.
"Oh, Mr. Ashe, I perfectly adore them!"
"Then if Mrs. Clyde thinks them suitable, take them, by all means."
Mrs. Clyde hesitated. She wished that her daughter had not selected this hour to attend to business matters. She would have liked her approval.
"I wish your Aunt Lucinda might see them first, dear," she said to Blue Bonnet. "I hardly feel capable of choosing for Kitty."
"But Aunt Lucinda said she couldn't possibly get through with her affairs before lunch, Grandmother—you remember hearing her say that, don't you? Well, you see we've got to choose quickly, because the girls want to wear the gowns to the dinner to-night, and if there are any alterations it couldn't be managed. Anyway, Grandmother, Iknowthey're all right. They aren't a speck more elaborate than the girls at Miss North's wear. Please let Kitty have them."
And Mrs. Clyde, under pressure of the argument and the moment, capitulated.
Kitty moved off toward the dressing-room in a transport of happiness, and the other girls in turn made their selections. Debby found a rose-colored dress that suited her admirably; Sarah, after much deliberation, chose a substantial afternoon gown that would serve for dinner and party also; a gown that would have pleased Aunt Lucinda down to the ground. Amanda made her selection after the order of Kitty's; a white embroidered swiss over a pink slip, with a wrap that blended, and yet appeared substantial; while Susy and Ruth, showing extremely good judgment, abided by Mrs. Clyde's decision, and selected simple sheer white organdies with charming sashes, and girlish looking coats of dark red broadcloth.
Carita and Blue Bonnet waited until all the others had been supplied. Then Blue Bonnet found a little frock of pale pink crepe de chine; something she had long wanted; and Carita cast her lot with Ruth and Susy, selecting an organdy not unlike theirs, and a coat of blue broadcloth.
It was a happy party that filed out of the store an hour later, after all accessories to the costumes had been found and purchased.
Luncheon was a merry feast, enjoyed at the Touraine; as was also the motor ride in the afternoon. But the real joy of the day came with thedinner in the evening. The table, according to Blue Bonnet's instructions, had been laid in the Palm Room. Miss Clyde much preferred a private dining-room; but Blue Bonnet had insisted that half the fun was in seeing the life at the hotel, and Miss Clyde finally withdrew her objections.
Mr. Ashe sat at the head of the table with Mrs. Clyde at his right and Mrs. White at his left. At the opposite end sat Miss Clyde, and the Lambs and the We Are Sevens alternated about the board. Annabel Jackson had Kitty Clark under her wing; while Sue Hemphill entertained Amanda. An arrangement which proved entirely satisfactory, judging from the merriment that came from their respective quarters.
Blue Bonnet, glancing at her guests, indulged in the utmost satisfaction. The Lambs were charming in the new gowns; but, thanks to Uncle Cliff, not a whit more so than her beloved We Are Sevens—a fact which the Lambs themselves appreciated. Joy Cross, between Blue Bonnet and kind-hearted Wee Watts, looked very happy.
The place cards caused great amusement; and it is safe to say that each one found its way into a memory book for future reference and pleasure. Patty Paine, gifted in art, had painted them charmingly, while Angela Dare, despite her scorn for mere "doggerel," had penned a verse suitable to each guest. Jokes and jests were the order of theevening. Each girl had been asked to bring her best story, and consequently there were no lapses into silence or stupid pauses during courses.
"It has been the most wonderful success, Blue Bonnet," Annabel whispered, as the party left the table. "And Idid soenjoy Kitty Clark. I couldn't keep my eyes off her."
"I'm so glad, Annabel," Blue Bonnet answered, giving the hand in her own a squeeze. "We must hurry a bit now. We're going to the Plymouth to see 'Pomander Walk.' They say it's dear."
The play came up to expectations. The girls enjoyed it hugely. Enjoyed it just as they enjoyed the supper at the Touraine later—with the enthusiasm of youth and good health.
"Uncle Cliff," Blue Bonnet said, when they were finally back at the hotel, and she was saying good night at his own door, "I believe this has been the very happiest day of my life. I can't begin to thank you for it; you've been so good—and so generous. Wasn't it splendid the way the girls took to the dresses—and Aunt Lucinda having that appointment just at that hour? It seemed almost as if—as if the fairies had had a hand in it all, didn't it? We couldn't have arranged it better if we'd tried. But I'm afraid I did Aunt Lucinda an injustice. She didn't mind about our getting the girls the dresses at all. I believe she likedit. She said it was a great privilege to be able to give so much happiness."
And stooping to kiss Blue Bonnet, Mr. Ashe asked:
"You were satisfied, then, Honey? It went off as well as you had expected? You are quite content?"
Blue Bonnet hesitated before she replied.
"What is it, Honey? Speak up. Have we left something undone?"
"There's just one thing, Uncle Cliff. I'm almost ashamed to mention it in the face of all you've done to-day—but—it's about Gabriel. If we could only do something for the poor little fellow. Oh, Uncle Cliff, you can't think how it hurts me to see him fading away in that place, when—when there's sunshine going to waste on the Blue Bonnet ranch, and ponies eating their heads off in the stables."
"I thought of that, too, Honey, and—I wasn't going to tell you to-night, Blue Bonnet—you've had enough excitement for one day; but Miss Clyde went to see Gabriel this morning—that was her business engagement—and we're going to take the little chap to Woodford with his nurse for a while. Miss Clyde thinks that she can find a boarding-place. When he gets stronger we'll get him down to the ranch; down into God's own country, Honey, where people have to look in thedictionary to find out what 'tuberculosis' means. There! there! I knew I shouldn't have told you to-night. You're all worn out. Come, come, Honey! the girls are waiting for you."
But Blue Bonnet, arms about her uncle's neck, was sobbing out the gladness of her heart.
It was on the way back to the hotel from church the next day that Blue Bonnet, lagging a bit behind Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda, said to Kitty:
"I don't know whether you girls will enjoy the visit we have to pay to the relatives to-day very much or not. It won't be exciting, but Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda would be hurt if we didn't go."
"I think it's about time we were considering somebody besides ourselves after all that's been done for us," Kitty replied. "I shall love to go, myself. I met your Cousin Tracy once in Woodford and I liked him ever so much."
And the others, whether out of courtesy or not, echoed Kitty's sentiments.
But the afternoon proved far from stupid. Cousin Tracy went to great lengths to be entertaining, and Cousin Honora and Cousin Augusta were so hospitable in their quaint surroundings that Kitty whispered to Blue Bonnet:
"I feel as if they had stepped out of a book—Cranford,—or something!" An announcementthat Blue Bonnet scarcely knew whether to take as a compliment or not. She recalled the refinement of the Cranford family, but to be so far behind the time in this day and generation.
Kitty saw the puzzled expression and qualified the remark instantly.
"I mean they are so aristocratic—there is such an atmosphere about them."
It was quite eight o'clock when Andrews, the man-servant who had been with Miss Augusta for so many years, came into the library and lighted the tall candlesticks on the bookcases; stirred the fire and made the table ready for the large tray that, laden with cake and sandwiches, followed immediately. Miss Honora poured the tea, and the girls passed the refreshments.
It was all delightfully cosy, and the Boston relatives enjoyed the girls' breezy chatter; and the schoolgirl experiences, which were highly entertaining.
"And have you initiated the Spanish costume at Miss North's yet, Blue Bonnet?" Cousin Tracy asked.
The faintest pink crept into Blue Bonnet's cheeks as she remembered Cousin Tracy's introduction to the costume. She laughed gaily as she answered:
"I haven't worn it myself; but some of the girls have. It makes a fine fancy dress costume. Ibelieve Carita had it last at a Freshman party. She was a picture in it, too."
Ten o'clock came before any one realized it. The girls had been interested in Cousin Tracy's specimens and stories; and Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda had enjoyed a visit with the relatives whom they saw too infrequently.
"Girls, it's almost over," Kitty exclaimed disconsolately, as she put her things in her bag that night at the hotel. "I wish it were just beginning."
She looked about the pretty suite which she and Amanda had occupied jointly.
"I don't know how I'm going to give up all this elegance and come down to earth, and Woodford again. Oh, dear—a little touch of high life is awfully unsettling!"
"I don't feel that way at all," Amanda declared. "It will give me something to think about for weeks to come. Kitty, how are we ever going to pay Mr. Ashe and Blue Bonnet for all they have done?"
"They don't want any pay," Blue Bonnet said, entering the room at that moment. "Uncle Cliff says he has had a beautiful time, and—well, I reckon you all know how I've enjoyed it. Could I help you pack? My trunk went from the school yesterday and my bag's all ready."
"No, I think not, thank you—unless you would be good enough to fold this dress and party coat, Blue Bonnet. I want to keep them as fresh aspossible until Mother sees them. Theyaresuch loves!"
Kitty produced the box in which they had been sent home, and in another moment they were skillfully laid away between tissue paper.
"My, but you do that cleverly," Kitty said, as she watched Blue Bonnet's nimble fingers. "It almost makes one wish for an Aunt Lucinda. She taught you a great deal about neatness, didn't she?"
"She certainly did! I've learned a lot at school, too. Our bureau drawers are inspected regularly. If any one thinks boarding-school is all fun, they're mistaken. You're trained from the ground up!"
Woodford had put on her finest spring array for the return of her children, and Blue Bonnet thought the quaint old village had never looked half so lovely as they drove up the quiet street through the avenue of elms. Denham, with Solomon at his heels, was waiting at the station. Solomon wagged his joy at seeing his mistress, and Blue Bonnet was no less enthusiastic in her greeting.
"I see that you take good care of him, Denham," she said, nodding toward the dog affectionately. "And Chula? Is she up from pasture waiting for me?"
"She is, Miss Blue Bonnet," the old coachman answered cheerfully. "An' right skittish, too. I don't think she's had a saddle to her back since you last rode her. I meant to give her a run yesterday, but Darrell's boy was late getting her in. Think you'd better let me try her out, Miss, before you mount."
"Thank you, Denham, but Chula is as safe as a lamb. I'll take her out this afternoon and give her a taste of what's before her for the next week. I'll put her through her paces. Don't worry!"
But the afternoon was so full of a number of things that Chula stood in her stall indulging in an extra supply of oats which Blue Bonnet had insisted upon in honor of her home-coming.
"She's had poor food all winter, Denham," she said. "Just hay and stuff. Feed her up a bit, and I'll give her a run the first thing in the morning."
But in the morning Alec arrived with Knight Judson, and in the rush of things Chula was again neglected.
It was the third morning after Blue Bonnet's arrival that Chula was at last brought round to the side door. There was to be a riding party; a scamper through the woods with lunch in the hills afterward.
"Hold her a minute, please, Denham," Blue Bonnet called from her bedroom window, which overlooked the side driveway. "I'll be down in two seconds."
At that moment Alec and Knight rode up, and Alec, dismounting, threw Chula's bridle over his arm. Chula gave her head a toss and shied away.
"There, girl!" Alec rubbed her nose and spoke kindly. "What's up? Too much high living?"
"That's it exactly, sir," Denham said, touching his hat respectfully. "I wanted Miss Blue Bonnet to let me give her a turn before she mounted, but she thinks she can manage her. She's just feelin' her oats, sir. She'll settle down after the first mile or two."
But Chula did not settle down after the first mile; nor the second.
"Better let me give her a run," Alec insisted, but Blue Bonnet refused.
After the first five miles Chula began to lose the restlessness that had taken possession of her. Some one in the party suggested that the horses be let out a bit, and they were off in a bunch, Chula well in the lead.
"I don't like the way that mare is acting," Alec said to Knight. "Veer round to the left of Blue Bonnet and keep pretty close to her for a while. I'll take the other side."
Knight urged the big grey horse he was riding and caught up with Blue Bonnet; but Chula, taking the grey's speed for a challenge, shot forth in a wild run.
It took a moment or two for the rest of the party to grasp the fact that Chula, gentle, docile Chula, was in earnest; that she was really running away.
There was a shriek from Debby, which did nothelp matters in the least, and a horrified groan from the rest of the We Are Sevens. Knight Judson, thoroughly alarmed, took up the chase; but his horse, big and clumsy, was no mate for Chula, who was running at breakneck speed.
Alec took in the situation at a glance. He feared to catch up with Blue Bonnet, lest Chula should take Victor's presence as a further invitation to contest; and yet, it seemed the only thing to do. Blue Bonnet was in a fair way to lose control of the animal at any moment. He raced on at top speed. Fortunately they were on a rising piece of ground, and Alec could see that Chula was pretty well winded.
"Hold tight, Blue Bonnet," he called, as he came up behind her. "You're all right! I'm close behind you. Keep up your nerve!"
Whether it was the welcome sound of Alec's voice in such close proximity, or utter exhaustion, Blue Bonnet could scarcely have said, herself; but loosening her feet from the stirrups as if by magic, she swayed forward in the saddle, and in another instant lay an unconscious heap in the road.
Alec was at her side in a moment: lowering her head, rubbing her hands, and calling upon Knight to run to the brook for water.
"She's only fainted, I'm sure," he said in response to Knight's look of distress. "I don't believe she's hurt a bit. The mare was only playing;but, by George, wait till I catch her! I'll teach her how to run away in the future!"
Alec's face was white with anxiety and anger, and his jaw set with determination that boded no good for Chula.
Blue Bonnet stirred presently; opened her eyes. The sight of Alec and Knight bending over her in the road bewildered her. Then she remembered, and a look of horror came into her eyes. She sat up frantically.
"Chula!" she cried, scanning the road eagerly. "Where is she? Alec, catch her! Catch her quickly! If she goes home without me it will frighten Grandmother to death."
Knight was off in a twinkling, coming back in a few minutes leading Chula by her bridle.
"Little devil!" he said, laughing. "She was browsing up there on the hillside as peaceful as a lamb. Weren't you, old girl?"
But Alec, still white with anger, jumped to his feet and snatching Chula's bridle from Knight's hands, struck the mare a stinging blow with his whip across her shoulder.
Blue Bonnet was up and at Chula's side instantly.She wrenched the whip from Alec's hand and her voice quivered with passion.
"How dare you strike my horse, Alec Trent! How dare you!"
Her arms were round Chula's neck instantly;her fingers caressing the ugly mark that was beginning to show deep in the sorrel shoulder.
For a moment Alec gazed at Blue Bonnet, dumb with amazement. Then he took a step toward her apologetically.
"I beg your pardon," he said slowly. "I beg your pardon, Blue Bonnet. Not for striking Chula. She needed what I gave her; but for losing my temper. I'm sorry."
Blue Bonnet, still trying to smooth out the mark on Chula's shoulder, answered not a word. There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then she suggested that the party move on.
"Will you lend me your hand, Knight?" she said. "I don't believe I can mount alone this time."
There was a protest from all the young people.
"Blue Bonnet! You're surely not going to ride Chula again to-day! You can't! You're all unstrung! She may run again; you really must not."
"Your hand, please, Knight," Blue Bonnet insisted calmly.
Alec stepped forward and took Chula's bridle. At his touch the mare shied, almost jerking the reins from his hands.
Blue Bonnet snatched the bridle and turned on Alec.
"Will you leave my horse alone, please?" she said angrily. "You see, she hates your touch!"
It was Kitty who strove to heal the breach.
"Don't be ridiculous, Blue Bonnet! Chula got just what was coming to her. She might have killed you; throwing you likethat—"
"She didn't throw me, Kitty Clark! You don't know what you're talking about! Knight, are you going to help me, or not? If you aren't, I can mount from that log over there."
Knight came forward hesitatingly.
"Really," he said, "I think you are very unwise, Blue Bonnet. The mare is excited yet; shemight—"
"You don't understand, Knight. There is a reason why Imustride Chula—now, this very minute. I am not at all nervous—see?"
She held out a cool, steady hand and Knight took it for an instant in his own.
"You're game, all right," he answered. "Here goes, then."
He lifted her into the saddle and she took up the reins firmly. For the second time she had conquered an abiding fear.
The remainder of the ride was a sad failure. Blue Bonnet felt it as she tried to entertain Knight, who kept close to her side. Alec rode with Kitty; but his eyes scarcely left Chula, who was behaving quite decently now that her frolic was over.
Kitty tried to interest Alec with stories of her Boston trip; the dinner for the Lambs; the gaytheatre party; but all she got for her effort was a mere occasional, "You don't say," or "That was fine, now, wasn't it?"
Finally, in exasperation, Kitty rebelled.
"Forget it, Alec," she said. "That was only one of Blue Bonnet's flashes. She adores Chula, and she knew she was only playing. You did give the horse a bad cut, though. She needed it, nevertheless. I don't see how Blue Bonnet ever escaped breaking her neck, falling like that!"
To all of which Alec made no answer, except to suggest that they ride on and select a place for lunch.
The picnic, which had promised so much, was also a dire failure. In the first place it was a trifle early for a picnic. There was chill in the air, though the sun shone brightly.
Blue Bonnet ate her sandwiches and talked to Knight merrily; but never once did her glance meet Alec's, or her conversation lead in his direction.
As the party reached town and the girls took their respective roads home, Blue Bonnet found herself for the first time alone with Alec. Knight had gone ahead with Kitty and Amanda. Alec drew up beside her and for a moment they rode in silence.
"Were you hurt, Blue Bonnet?" he asked.
"Not in the least, thank you," she replied indifferently.
"I hope you aren't going to be angry. I didexactly what I would have done to Victor, or any other beast that acted that way."
"We'll drop the matter," Blue Bonnet said coolly. "But there's one thing—I hope you won't feel it your duty to tell Aunt Lucinda about what happened and spoil my vacation. It would put a ban on Chula forever more. My falling was my own fault; not hers. I slipped off in preference to—perhaps—being dragged."
All at once the light began to dawn upon Alec. He remembered the fear that had so long obsessed Blue Bonnet; the fear of being dragged.
The horses were walking now, and Alec leaned over and put his hand on the pummel of Chula's saddle; presently it slipped down in a caress on the mare's shoulder.
"I beg your pardon, Chula girl," he said. "I was pretty hard on you, wasn't I? Are you ready to forgive me?"
And whether it was because at that moment Mrs. Clyde's comfortable barn hove in sight, or in response to Alec's pleading, Chula gave a low whinny, and her mistress, looking into Alec's face which was lifted for her approval, smiled.
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"Thatwas plucky—Blue Bonnet's riding the mare home yesterday," Alec remarked at the breakfast-table next morning.
"What was that?" asked the General.
Alec explained.
"It was plucky," Knight remarked. "She's a true Texan, all right. What got into the mare? Only playing, wasn't she?"
"I suppose she was," Alec answered, deep in thought. "But it was a serious business, just the same. When Blue Bonnet fell I scarcely knew whether I'd pick her up whole. Not having a scratch is marvelous."
"She says she has a guardian angel," Knight said, laughing. "Jove, she must have. Only a kind and interested fate saved her yesterday. Well, what's the program to-day?"
Alec came out of his reverie.
"To-day? Nothing in particular. There's the party at the Clarks' to-night. Blue Bonnet's honor, I believe—and yours."
"I'm at the young ladies' disposal," Knight said.
It was late afternoon when Alec, coming in with Knight from a ride, suggested a call at Mrs. Clyde's.
"This is about the tea hour," he said. "I'm not particularly long on tea, but I must pay my respects to Miss Clyde and her mother."
Teawasin order when the boys were ushered into Mrs. Clyde's comfortable sitting-room. Blue Bonnet was helping herself to a second cup.
"Just in time," she said gaily, bestowing a handshake on Knight, and nodding at Alec.
Alec felt the omission.
"Not wholly forgiven yet," he thought, as he turned his attention to Miss Lucinda. "'Fraid that cut on Chula must be looming large to-day."
That was exactly the trouble. Denham had noticed the mark when the horse had been turned over to him the afternoon before, and, alarmed for Blue Bonnet's safety, remarked about it to Miss Lucinda. The situation had been awkward. Blue Bonnet was forced to explain; which she did with as much credit to Chula as possible.
"Do you mean to say that Chula ran away with you?" Miss Clyde had asked.
"She was only playing, Aunt Lucinda." Blue Bonnet carefully guarded the fact of her fall. "She felt so good after the long winter at pasture. She didn't mean a bit of harm. I'm sure she didn't."
But Aunt Lucinda was far from satisfied, and at her first opportunity questioned Alec.
"Don't you think Chula is a bit wild for Blue Bonnet after being out all winter?" she asked.
Alec glanced at Blue Bonnet in surprise.
"Oh, scarcely wild, Miss Clyde. She was a little frisky yesterday from having been in the stable a few days on extra rations. I think the little run we gave her took away some of her surplus energy. I daresay Blue Bonnet will have to prod her to make her move in a day or two."
"Going to stand for that, Blue Bonnet?" Knight asked. "I can't imagine a Texas girl riding anything that had to be prodded. By the way, Kitty tells me that Sarah has become quite expert in the art of riding: asks at the livery stable for 'a horse with some go in him,' and has tried out the best of them."
"Good for Sarah!" Blue Bonnet exclaimed, grateful to Knight for so tactfully diverting the subject. "That reminds me of the day she first rode Comanche at the ranch. The girls made such fun of her, but she stayed with him gloriously. That was Sarah's first experience with a horse with 'go' in him."
Blue Bonnet laughed at the recollection.
"See you and Carita to-night at Kitty's, I suppose," Alec said as he and Knight were leaving a little later. "May we stop and take you over?"
"Thank you—yes," Blue Bonnet answered, looking more at Knight than at Alec. "I reckon Delia will resign in your favor. She's been my duenna for some time now."
Over at Doctor Clark's great excitement prevailed. Kitty, with the aid of Amanda and Debby, was changing the entire landscape of the Clark domain. Furniture was carted out wholesale. Canvas had been laid in the large double parlors for dancing, and the hall and library reveled in cosy corners and tête-à-têtes. Out on the broad veranda, although the season was yet so young, comfortable nooks braved the chill atmosphere, and Japanese lanterns gave an air of festivity.
Kitty was giving a cotillion, an event of some importance in Woodford. Kitty's two cousins from Medford, Jack and Ferren Allen—Amherst men home for vacation—had come over to help with arrangements and make themselves generally agreeable at the party.
"What am I to do with this, Kitty?" Jack asked, lifting a table. "Amanda says it stays here. Is that right?"
"In other words, I'm not to be depended upon," Amanda said, laughing. "I told him that table was for the favors, and had to stay where it was."
"That's true, Jack," Kitty called from the porch, where she and Ferren were struggling with rugs and Indian blankets. "Amanda's perfectly dependable. That's her one accomplishment—making the truth go as far as possible!"
"See?" Amanda retorted, making a littlemoue. "Next time you'll take orders direct, and save time, won't you? Isn't it a lark, getting ready for a party? Oh, would you please straighten out these chairs? They have to go all round the room—so! Then perhaps you'd help Debby with the favors. They are in that box by the window. Kitty got the sweetest things in Boston. I do hope some nice man will present me with a pink fan. I'm pining for one for my new gown."
"I shall try to remember," Jack promised humbly. "Pink, did you say?"
At last everything was in place. Kitty gave a parting glance at the rooms. They must have fulfilled every requirement from the satisfied look on her face.
"Boys," she called to her cousins, who were finishing a hasty lunch in the dining-room, "you'll have to hurry. It's a quarter past seven this blessed minute. How long does it take you to get into evening clothes?"
"Not as long as it takes you by an hour," Ferren called back. "We'll go up to dress at eight, and then hang round for you."
"Don't you ever think it! I dress like chain lightning. Come on, Amanda, we'll show them how long it takes us."
Amanda, living near, had brought her clothes over, intending to dress with Kitty and stay all night. The girls scrambled through a half dozen things forgotten at the last minute, and then proceeded to dress with haste. But, sure enough, at a quarter past eight, Ferren, true to his word, emerged immaculate from his bedroom, and commenced beating a tattoo on Kitty's door.
"Go away!" Kitty called. "We're all ready. We're just resting a minute."
But Ferren, laughing scornfully, kept up the noise until the girls appeared.
Kitty opened the door and gave him a push.
"Go away now. You see wearedressed! We only have to put on a few touches; Amanda's flowersand—"
"I know those touches, Kitty. Come along!"
In the front parlor Doctor Clark stood waiting to receive the guests with his daughter. Mrs. Clark, being an invalid, found herself unequal to such occasions.
"Oh, Father, you look—just lovely!" Kitty said, smiling up to him and noting every detail of his correct evening dress. "Only—just a minute; it's your tie! There! Isn't he splendid, Amelia? My, but this is an occasion! I do hope everybody will have a good time. There's Blue Bonnet. I hear her voice. She's early, isn't she? Amanda, take a peek at the favors, will you, andtell Sarah not to get them mixed. I have explained it all to her a dozen times, but when one doesn't dance, one is apt to bungle."
It had fallen to Sarah's lot to preside at the favor table; a treat she was looking forward to with no little pleasure. It was nice to be taking part, even if one couldn't dance.
Blue Bonnet was looking her best in the pink gown purchased for the dinner the week before. She was very attractive as she entered the room between Alec and Knight, whose glances followed her approvingly.
"Some party, Miss Clark!" Alec said, bowing before that young lady in his best military form. "I was just telling Knight that he was in luck to be introduced to society under such favorable circumstances."
"I'm certainly in luck to be here," Knight said. "May I see your program, Kitty?"
"We haven't any programs, Knight. This is to be a cotillion. Thegirlsget a chance to bestow favors. See that table where Sarah is sitting? Come over and I'll explain."
Which she did, a little to Knight's bewilderment.
The rooms began to fill up. On the up-stairs landing violins squeaked in the tuning. Ferren, who was to lead the cotillion with Kitty, chose six couples for the first figure, and the dance began.
Alec and Knight both stood before Blue Bonnet. "I suppose you are going to say 'how happy I'd be with either,' aren't you?" Knight said laughing.
Blue Bonnet paused only a second.
"Since Knight is the guest of honor I think I'd best dance with him," she said.
But Alec, nothing daunted, brought her his first favor.
"You can't resist this vanity box, Blue Bonnet," he said, smiling broadly.
Blue Bonnet accepted the favor, but after a couple of turns through the rooms, she stopped.
"Want to sit it out?" Alec asked.
"If you please—I think I should rather."
They found a seat in one of the cosy corners. Alec strove to be entertaining. Suddenly, in the midst of the conversation, he broke off abruptly:
"I say, Blue Bonnet! You're not vexed still about that Chula affair, are you?"
"No; certainly not."
"You're awfully quiet!"
"I just happen to feel quiet, I reckon."
"Sorry to miss this two-step. We won't have many more dances."
"Oh, there'll be lots of parties."
"Yes, I daresay—but not for me."
"Why?"
"Because—I leave in the morning."
"In the morning?"
"My holiday is over. I'm only here at all through a special dispensation of Providence. I ought to be at school this minute, grinding like the mischief. Our exams begin the last Monday in April, and they're no joke."
In her keen disappointment Blue Bonnet forgot her small grievance.
"Why, that's perfectly outrageous! The very idea, only three days!"
"But they've been such bully days! It's been so pleasant to see Judson again. He'll be here. He's going to stay on for a week with Grandfather."
"And when will you get another holiday?"
"Two years from next June, if I'm lucky."
"How do you mean, lucky?"
"If I pass the examinations and make the Point. If I do, I enter the twelfth of June for two years."
"Why, it's just like having a sentence! Why didn't you stay at the ranch? One can do as one pleases there, at any rate."
A half wistful expression crept into Alec's eyes.
"That's true," he said. "I loved the ranch life, but—you see—Grandfather had chosen the army for me, and when the appointment came, I knew what a disappointment it would be to him if I didn't make a try at it. It's all right though. I like it. There's a fascination about it. Think you don't want to finish this dance?"
Blue Bonnet rose, but just as they moved off the music stopped.
For the next two or three dances Blue Bonnet saw nothing at all of Alec. She looked about the room once or twice for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's Alec?" she inquired of Knight when he came up to her for a dance. "He seems to have disappeared."
"I saw him on the veranda talking with Kitty a minute ago," Knight said, peering in that direction. "Don't believe he's dancing much."
Blue Bonnet watched her opportunity and carried her next favor to Alec; but Kitty was ahead of her. The rest of the evening was spoilt for her. She had hurt Alec; and Alec was going away to-morrow—for two years! Two years seemed an eternity.
Some one announced supper, and Blue Bonnet and Knight wended their way toward the dining-room. Kitty came into view at the same moment. Alec and her cousin Ferren were both claiming her company for refreshments.
"Go get Debby, Ferren," Blue Bonnet heard Kitty say. "I'm taking care of Alec to-night. He's going away to-morrow and we sha'n't see him again for ages." Then, spying Blue Bonnet and Carita, she, called:
"Come over here, girls, Alec has heaps to sayto you. Did you know he was going away to-morrow, Blue Bonnet? I never was so surprised in my life! I tell him I think it's right horrid of him and such a scarcity of boys in Woodford."
For a few minutes the conversation was lively. Knight took the opportunity to tease Kitty about Sandy, the young Texan who had found her so attractive the summer before.
Blue Bonnet tried to appear interested. She smiled and answered questions in monosyllables. She wondered afterwards if she had smiled in the right place: her thoughts had been miles away from Sandy and Kitty—from her surroundings. She was wondering how she could make Alec understand that she was sorry for having been so disagreeable; that she should miss him terribly during the rest of the vacation. She had turned the matter over in her mind for the twentieth time without coming to any definite conclusion when Alec began saying good-by.
"I'm going to turn Blue Bonnet and Carita over to Knight's care," she heard him saying. "I have to get out early in the morning and there are a few things to be done yet to-night. It's been a great old party, Kitty. If I make the Point you'll have to come down to some of the dances next winter. Good-by. See you all again one of these days, I suppose."
"You'll see us all to-morrow morning at thestation," Kitty answered, looking straight at Blue Bonnet, hoping she would acquiesce, but Blue Bonnet in her surprise could scarcely find voice to speak.
It was not until she was in the privacy of her own room that Blue Bonnet confided her disappointment to Carita.
"I've been perfectly horrid to Alec," she confessed. "I've been angry at him ever since he struck Chula yesterday. I don't know why—Chula did act badly. Perhaps it was because I was so horribly upset. I was so frightened—oh, you can't think how frightened! And now he's going away—for two years—and he'll never know how sorry I am."
"Why didn't you tell him?" Carita asked.
"I wanted to, but I couldn't get a chance. He seemed so terribly interested in Kitty. I couldn't get near him—alone."
"Why don't you write him a note, Blue Bonnet? Write and tell him that youwereangry, but that you're all over it now."
"A note? I hadn't thought of that. How could I get a note to him? He leaves so early in the morning."
"Write it now and we'll skip out and put it under his front door. We can slip down-stairs—no one will hear us,and—"
"Carita! You don't know what you are talkingabout. It's twenty minutes after twelve this instant. Don't you ever think you could get out of this house without Aunt Lucinda's knowing it. She sleeps with one eye open. No—that won't do. Can't you think of something else?"