Mrs. Blair had said that all the preparations for the Bazaar must be completed on Tuesday, the day before it was to open. She knew the ways of girls too well to think that it would be safe to have anything left for Wednesday morning. The flower table, of course had to be arranged on that day, and some things for the refreshment table. But so definite had she been in expressing her wishes, that the girls felt that it was due her for lending her house to pay all deference to what she said. On the Monday therefore after Easter they went to work with a will to gather in the promised contributions. There were naturally some disappointments, but on the whole the fancy articles bestowed upon them were numerous and beautiful, and many were the "ohs and ahs" from the Four and their assistants, when on Tuesday they fell to the task of opening the parcels and arranging their contents on the tables. Tuesday was rainy, and at dusk gave little promise of a bright sky for the following day. Brenda was in a tremor of excitement. "Oh, dear, how dreadful if to-morrow should be stormy! I am sure it will be, and whatshallwe do?" with great emphasis on the "shall."
"Full many a cloudy morning turns out a sunny day," sang Nora, while Edith patted Brenda on the back and said, "Well, we can't do anything to change the weather, and we might as well hope for the best. I know that a lot of people will come even if it rains, and perhaps they'll be good and buy three times as much as they would in fine weather."
Just then Julia came in with the evening paper in her hand. "See, or rather hear the news. Old Probability says, 'clear and fair Wednesday.' Mrs. Blair sent this paper up from the library to cheer you. There was a large patch of blue in the west when the sun went down——"
"The sun!" exclaimed the others derisively.
"In the place where the sun should have gone down," she responded with a smile. "Why, how well the rooms look! there won't be a thing for the boys to do this evening."
For Philip and Will Hardon and one or two others were to come in the evening to see what they could do to help, and in view of their coming Mrs. Blair had invited the girls to stay to dinner.
"Oh, no, there really isn't a thing for them to do, but perhaps when they see how hard we have worked they will make up their minds to spend any amount of money to-morrow. I think it's a rather good idea to have them come to-night, so that they can make a lot of other boys come to-morrow."
"Boys are not so fond of spending money at fairs, I can tell you that," said Nora, rather decidedly, "and besides most of them are so much in debt that they haven't anything to spend."
"Oh, well, Philip's friends are not like that," said Belle, rather sharply. "I know several who have more money than they know what to do with. Some juniors that I know—New York fellows, are coming to-morrow and they will spend a lot of money."
"Gracious!" exclaimed Brenda, "I hope that we have things that will suit them. It seems to me that most of these things are for girls to use."
"Oh, they can buy things for their sisters and cousins; besides, boys like pincushions and picture frames and sofa pillows. Oh, I am sure that we shall have no trouble getting them to buy all that they can afford," replied Belle positively.
As a matter of fact when the boys after dinner were ushered into the pretty little ballroom, where the tables laden with fancy goods stood, they expressed great interest in all that they saw, and began to make bids for the things which seemed to them best worth having.
"Look out," cried Nora, "or we may take you at your word, Will Hardon, and make you pay one hundred dollars for that crimson pillow that you admire so."
"Well, why not?" he enquired, "as long as it is to be in a good cause."
"Oh, no," interrupted the practical Edith, "that would not really be fair. Besides, I am sure that we ought not to sell anything until to-morrow; everybody ought to have an equal chance at the beginning."
"Oh, how silly you are, Edith," broke in Brenda; "as if all the people who come to the Bazaar could be here at the same minute. If any one wants to bid on anything to-night I say that it is perfectly fair." After much discussion, it was at last decided that any one who had a great preference for any special thing might write his name on a piece of paper and have it pinned to the object with the limit of price that he was willing to pay.
"Then you must be willing," said Brenda, "to let us sell the things you have chosen, if some fussy old person comes along and wishes any of these reserved things, and refuses to be contented with anything else."
"But in that case what areweto do?" cried two or three of the boys in chorus.
"Oh, there will be plenty of things that will suit you just as well, if you only make up your minds to it."
"Perhaps you'll want me to buy a blue sofa pillow or some other Yale thing," sighed Will Hardon.
"Perhaps I shall be driven to take this," moaned Philip, holding up a large doll dressed in the long embroidered robes of a baby.
All the girls laughed except Edith, who seldom saw the funny side of things as quickly as the others.
"Well, you can see yourselves, boys," she said, in a determined tone, "that you ought to be glad to buy whatever is left over,—for you probably won't get in until toward evening. You can always find some one to give the things to that you buy."
"This doll?" asked Philip, holding it rather clumsily on his arm.
"Why, of course," said Edith, "we know several children who would be delighted with it at Christmas."
"No, thank you, sister Edith," responded Philip, "I'm not going to spend my hard earned allowance in presents for children; if you make me buy this doll, out it goes to a certain room in one of the college buildings to become a cherished decoration, and," waving the doll dramatically in the air, "I shall defy any proctor or college authority to tear it away from me."
"Then I hope he may get it," murmured Will Hardon to Ruth Roberts; "I can't imagine anything that would amuse the fellows more; we'd have to hold open house for a week or two—a regular reception. But you know I'm in earnest about that pillow," he added, for he knew, and Ruth knew that he knew that the down pillow with its rich crimson cover embroidered with a large "H." was the work of her skilful fingers.
Ruth and Will had met several times since the ball game, and although the Four had not yet discovered it, these two young persons had begun to take considerable interest in each other.
"You wouldn't pay a hundred dollars for it?" queried Ruth.
"If I couldn't get it in any other way, of course I would, and besides it would be worth much more to me."
This was not entirely an idle boast, this readiness to spend a large sum of money for a small thing—on the part of Will, as Philip and some of his classmates might have testified. Although very quiet in his way of living, and in his general conversation, he had a larger income than many in his set. His own tastes were simple, and though he naturally spent more than the average undergraduate, in accordance with the habit of the set to which he belonged, he still had enough to spend on others, and more than one of his less fortunate classmates had reason to thank him for what he had done for him. No one knew of his liberality except those whom he helped, for he had not the least wish to pose as a benefactor.
Now Ruth, while pleased at his wish for the cushion had no idea that he would, if necessary, pay a hundred dollars for it.
"If you really wish to have it, I'll try to secure it for you," she said. "I am sure there won't be any trouble, although I suppose that it can't be laid aside to-night, as long as Edith feels as she does."
"Very well," answered Will, "I'll trust to you, for I really do want it very much."
"Come," cried Brenda, rushing up to them, "you are not doing a thing, you two."
"Well, the rest of you seemed so busy that we thought we should only be in the way," said Will with the glibness that is almost second nature with youths of his age, "but we're ready to work now," and they went across the room to the surprise table where half a dozen of their friends were busy. The "surprise table" had been an idea of Belle's, and was a rather agreeable change from the usual grab-bag. All kinds of little things—toys, novelties, like those used as German favors, small books and photographs, were neatly done up in bright tissue paper wrappings, and tied with silk ribbons. They were heaped on a large table, and purchasers were permitted to buy each little package at their own price, provided at least, according to a sign placed above the table, that no bid should be for less than fifteen cents. Nora was to have charge of this table, and she expected to have a great deal of fun out of the misfits between the purchasers and the parcels.
Altogether the preparations for the Bazaar had moved along much more smoothly than any one had expected. It is true that the various mothers of the girls comprising "The Four" had said that they would be glad enough when it was all over, because for a fortnight it had been impossible to get the girls to think of anything else. Yet each of these mothers saw a compensation for the excitement of this last week or two in the fact that her daughter had shown more perseverance than she had given her credit for. Mrs. Barlow was especially pleased with the good spirit that her niece Julia had shown, for it would have been so easy and natural for her at the last to display a little pettishness in the way of a refusal to have anything to do with the Bazaar in view of the fact that she had not been invited to join "The Four" at their weekly meetings for work.
But Julia was not one to show this kind of resentment, and since she had become interested in Manuel she was only too glad to help the Bazaar that was to benefit him. At her aunt's suggestion she had made it her special duty to collect flowers and plants for the flower table, and armed with notes of introduction from Mrs. Barlow she had gone to many a supposedly close person to ask for some small contribution to the flower table. Her success had been altogether remarkable, and in addition to the cut flowers that were to arrive on Wednesday, a great many beautiful potted plants and vines had been sent in from various conservatories for general decorations.
The only real work for the boys who had come to assist, consisted in moving some of these heavy plants about to places between the mirrors, or near the flower table where they would be most effective. The work did not, of course, proceed very rapidly, for every one in the group of fifteen or more had to give an opinion on everything, and a unanimous opinion as to what looked best in any particular case was naturally impossible.
The large room was so handsome as to require comparatively little decoration. The long mirrors with which every side was paneled formed a complete decoration in themselves, and added to the general effectiveness, as Brenda said by making the tables "look double."
Now if the boys did not find a great deal of work to do they were very outspoken in their admiration for all that had been accomplished by the girls.
"Well, if other people will only be as much impressed as you are, and will open their purses accordingly, we shall have nothing to complain of," said Nora, "and I hope that you will all come back and buy everything that is left over by to-morrow evening."
"Can't we have first choice of anything?" queried Tom Hurst, a mischief loving friend of Philip's whom some of the girls distrusted a little.
"No," answered Nora, sternly, "you must not be so selfish. There may be old ladies who will want——"
"Do you suppose that any old lady will want that tobacco pouch?" asked Tom, with a most innocent expression on his face.
"She might," answered Nora, with a very dignified manner. "She might if she had a son who was fond of smoking, at any rate she ought to have first choice."
"Well, then," replied Tom, "I don't believe that I shall return, for I am not sure that I ought to patronize an institution that encourages old ladies to buy tobacco pouches."
"They're more harmless for old ladies than for Harvard undergraduates," said another of the girls seriously, whereat two or three of the boys pulled cigarette cases out of their pockets, and said, "Wouldn't you rather have us use tobacco pouches than smoke these unwholesome cigarettes?"
"You shouldn't use tobacco at all," cried Edith in a plaintive tone, "at your age, Philip, you know how mamma feels about it."
"Don't be a goose, Edith," retorted Philip, "unless you want us to stay away to-morrow. Anyway it's time we started for Cambridge, we're not used to late hours." At this the rest of the boys laughed rather more loudly than the occasion seemed to warrant, but with a return of good manners they bade the girls good-bye, and promised Mrs. Blair, who had returned to the room that they would certainly drop in some time on Wednesday.
"Don't forget your promise to me," said Will Hardon in an undertone as he shook hands with Ruth, and Ruth promised not to forget. Ruth and one other girl were to spend the night with Julia and Brenda, so as to be ready early in the morning, and the rest of the assistants started off in a large group attended by one of Mrs. Blair's servants, for none of them had very far to walk.
"It certainly does look as if it might clear up," said Belle to Nora, as they walked along.
"Yes, indeed," answered Nora, "there are as many as twenty stars to be seen, and that is almost a sure sign. Some people believe that it will be fine the next day if you can count nine stars the night before."
The sun, after all, did shine on Wednesday morning, and The Four and their assistants arrived bright and early at Mrs. Blair's.
By ten o'clock everything was in order for patrons, and really the arrangement of the tables reflected great credit on the young girls. The table of fancy handiwork was loaded with beautiful articles. There was Nora's afghan with its rich, warm stripes, there was Belle's fine embroidery,—centre piece, doilies, and other dainty bits chiefly for the dining-room. I cannot truly say that Brenda, though giving liberally, had contributed very much that was made by her own hands, and I have an idea that if the bottom drawer of her bureau had been examined, it would have been found to contain the majority of the unfinished things over which at one time or another she had been so enthusiastic. Not even her zeal for the Bazaar had enabled her to disentangle that confusion of odds and ends.
Some of the older girls at school had contributed beautiful things. One had copied an old French miniature and had had it framed in gilt. Another had painted a set of tiny chocolate cups. There were some exquisite picture frames covered in old brocade brought over from Europe by another girl, and still a third had sent some wood carvings done in a peculiar style which she had learned at Venice. An uncle of Edith's who was a publisher, had sent a number of finely bound books. Then there were many smaller and less expensive things, so that it seemed as if every taste must be suited.
"Oh, how lovely," exclaimed Ruth as she stood for a moment beside the flower table which Edith, Julia and Ruth had spent an hour or more in decorating.
"Where did you get those beautiful orchids?" asked Edith.
"Why Edith Blair," answered Julia, "I should think that you ought to recognize your own possessions. Your mother sent these in from your greenhouse in Brookline."
Edith laughed good-humoredly. "I thought that they had a kind of familiar look, but then other people have orchids, too."
"Well other peoplehavebeen generous, as well as your mother. I have quantities of violets besides these on the tables, and the most beautiful roses, and see this dozen of maiden hair fern in little pots. Almost every plant has been engaged by some of the girls at the tables. They are to be left with me until evening."
"What will you do with things that are left over?"
"Oh, I have been told to do with them as I like, and probably they will be sent to the Children's Hospital. Shouldn't you think that a good idea, Edith?"
"Oh, yes, the very best in the world; it would be fun to go up on the same day and see what the children say to them."
"Yes, provided we really do have anything left over. Of course it would be better if we could sell everything in the room."
"Yes, of course, when you can leave do come over to my table for a minute; I want to ask your opinion about arranging something. It's awfully hard to combine the colors, and in some way Frances and I never agree exactly about things, though I try to see things as she does," and Edith walked off, sighing a little over her weight of responsibility, for she had complete charge of the fancy-work table with Frances Pounder as chief assistant. Other girls from their group of friends were to relieve them at intervals during the day, but the responsibility of seeing that there were always two attendants at the table fell entirely on Edith.
Belle had complete charge of the refreshment room, which was a small room off the dancing hall where the other tables were set. Brenda and she had chosen this department, but the latter had declined any responsibility. "I wish to be free to move anywhere; I just hate having to stay in one spot, so ask as many others as you wish, Belle." Thus Belle had surrounded herself with half a dozen of the younger girls, and she was able to assume an air of authority over them that would have been impossible with the girls of her own age.
There were three or four little round tables in this room beside the larger one covered with boxes and baskets of bonbons. At the little tables the girls were to serve ices to all who wished them.
"Dear me," fretted Belle as she and Brenda stood surveying the room. "Dear me! I wish that we had a larger room. This is going to be awfully crowded if we have many people, and there will surely be a crowd before evening. I don't see what we shall do."
"Can't they take turns?" asked one of the younger girls, who happened to be standing near. "We could not have more than a dozen at a time, I should think."
"Oh, you don't know anything about it, Annie Bell," exclaimed Belle in a tone that brought tears to the eyes of the younger girl. "Of course I don't expect that every one who comes to the Bazaar will rush in here the first thing, but we ought to have had a larger room. I'm almost sorry that I said that I would take charge of this part of the Bazaar. It's going to be a great deal more fun outside."
"Ah, well!" replied Brenda, consolingly, "you won't have to stay in here all the time, the girls can look after things, and besides I am not going to be away all the time."
"Oh, no," said Belle, "if I undertake a thing I always calculate to carry it through. Some one has to be here at the money table all the time, or else things will get dreadfully mixed up."
"Well, I'm sorry that you feel so," said Brenda. "But as long as there is no one here now I will go off for a while and see how Nora is getting on at the surprise table."
As Brenda went off, Belle sat down at the little table which answered for cashier's desk. She had already taken in two dollars for bonbons, although as yet the Bazaar had had but a few patrons. Toward noon about forty altogether had visited the Bazaar. Among these were several elderly ladies and gentlemen, and a number of nurses with children who patronized chiefly the surprise table and the refreshment room, and Belle had her hands full making change, and correcting the errors of her young assistants with whom arithmetic was evidently not a strong point.
At about one o'clock the attendants at the Bazaar began to go down to the dining-room where Mrs. Blair had had a luncheon spread for them.
"How's business?" asked Belle of Nora, as they sat there over their salad and cocoa.
"Oh, fine," replied the latter, expressively, if inelegantly. "I've taken nearly twenty dollars, and the table looks as if hardly a thing had been touched. Julia and Ruth have done a great deal better, of course, and I wouldn't dare say how much Edith and Frances have made. They sold that set of chocolate cups for twenty dollars to old Mrs. Bean."
"That was more than they were worth," interrupted Belle.
"Oh, I don't know, theywereLOVELY, there was ever so much work on them."
"Well, I suppose at a Bazaar, a thing is worth what any one is willing to pay for it, but still, even if I could afford it, I would not pay twenty dollars for those cups. I didn't like the shape."
"You're too fussy, Belle, about little things; I've heard ever so many other persons admiring those cups, and Mrs. Bean thought that they were beautiful."
"Well, what else have they sold?"
"I can hardly tell, I've been so busy myself, but the table begins to look just a little bare, at least in spots, and I know that even Frances thinks that they have done very well. You know it's a great deal for her to be contented with anything."
"Well, I wish I could get some one to change with me this afternoon, I'm awfully tired of that little refreshment room. It will be more fun in the evening, but——"
"You ought to make Brenda take charge for an hour or two."
"Who in the world could ever make Brenda do anything?"
"I know she's a kind of a will-o'-the-wisp, and she feels as if she were managing everything and everybody here, but then that does not hurt us and it pleases her."
Here Belle remembered that it was always her custom to stand up for Brenda, and in the fashion which is always rather annoying to the person who has not intended any offence, she said, "Why of course we all understand Brenda, and for my part I think that she is exactly right. Of course, she was the one who planned this whole thing, and except for her no one would have tried to do a thing for the Rosas."
Nora did not think it worth while to reply that she had not been the one to make any criticism of Brenda. Instead she contented herself with saying, mischievously, "Well, you know that it was I who discovered Manuel, and if we had not had an object we should not have had a Bazaar." Belle had nothing to say to this, and indeed there was no chance, for two or three of the younger girls came down with a rush, thus reminding Nora and Belle that they ought to go upstairs again to their duties.
By the middle of the afternoon the Bazaar was a scene of the greatest activity, every one was there, young and old, and the fancy-work table had really begun to look bare. One of Nora's brothers had to be sent down town for a fresh supply of novelties for the surprise table, as not only the children but their parents found great amusement in opening those bright-colored packages. Belle and some of the older girls regretted that there was nothing to raffle.
"Don't you honestly think that it is much more exciting to get a thing in that way than to buy it just as you would in a shop?" asked Edith, who had been influenced by Belle to try to coax Mrs. Blair to change her opinion in the matter of raffles. But Mrs. Blair was firm, and she gave her reasons so clearly that not only her daughter, but all the others interested in the Bazaar, except Belle, seemed convinced.
"I haven't said," she had been careful in explaining, "that raffles are wrong, only very often they lead to things that are not exactly right. It is hard to make the average person see why it is perfectly right to buy shares in a handsome doll-house, and wrong to invest in a lottery ticket."
"Oh, every one understands about lottery tickets."
"Well, that may be true, lotteries are against the law in this part of the country, and yet a raffle at a bazaar or other charitable affair is to my mind always objectionable. Some persons take their disappointment very much to heart, and——"
"But, mamma, do you not call people very silly who take a little thing like that to heart?"
"I may call them silly and yet I cannot justify myself in causing them this discomfort, if a raffle should be held in my house. Without going into all the principles involved, Edith, I am sure that you can see that I have good reasons for feeling unwilling to have any raffles at the Bazaar."
So Edith and the others had acquiesced, with only a slight feeling of rebellion when one or two particularly handsome things were contributed to the Bazaar, which seemed almost too expensive to sell to a single purchaser.
A strong reason given by Mrs. Blair against raffles had been her objection to having people urged to buy shares, and she had cautioned the girls to be careful not to try to influence their friends when looking at things on the tables to buy against their will. On the whole did any action of this kind seem necessary, since almost every one who attended the Bazaar came as a purchaser, and as there was only one fancy-goods table, there was no rivalry among the sellers. Some of the larger and more expensive things did not sell very readily, and Brenda was in a twitter—at least that was what Nora called it—about the fate of these things. There was one especially valuable thing, or valuable from the point of view of The Four, a water color contributed by an artist friend of Mrs. Barlow's. He was a well-known artist, and his work was in demand, and down town the picture would have brought a large price. The girls in making the price of articles for the sale, had been uncertain what to do about this, and after long consultation with the older persons interested, had decided on one hundred dollars.
The artist himself had acquiesced in this, for they had thought it polite to refer the matter finally to him. Every one had prophesied that the picture would sell at once, yet for some reason or other, by the middle of the afternoon it was still unsold. By four o'clock it seemed as if all Miss Crawdon's school had emptied itself into the pretty hall, and about this time Brenda began to yield to a little temptation.
"What are you and Belle so mysterious about?" asked Nora, as she saw the two busily talking in a corner, and evidently rather afraid of being interrupted.
"Oh, nothing, only a little business," Brenda had replied, and then she and Belle had resumed their conversation which seemed to partake of the nature of calculation, with frequent references to a little notebook. After this Nora could not help noticing that Brenda devoted her attention to the older schoolgirls, and the college boys who in the latter part of the afternoon had begun to arrive in considerable numbers.
"What in the world are you doing?" she asked again and again, as Belle darted by as if searching for some special person, or Brenda stalked up and down studying her notebook.
Toward four o'clock there was considerable bustle at the entrance to the room, and Mrs. Blair's waitress, who had been standing in the hall, came forward with a message for Julia. At least she went up to the flower booth, and after speaking to Julia the latter hurried forward to the door where stood an old lady leaning on the arm of a tall serving man. "Who is it?" "Isn't she fine looking?" "Oh, no, I think her rather queer; who ever saw a turban like that?" were a few of the remarks that flew around the room, as Julia and the old lady with her attendant walked over toward the group of easy-chairs which Mrs. Blair had thoughtfully provided in one corner.
"Why, it's Madame Du Launy," cried Nora, who was really the first to recognize the occupant of the mysterious house near the school, and soon the news spread, until there was hardly a person in the room who had not heard it. Every one, naturally enough, was too polite to show her curiosity, although it must be admitted that a few of the bolder wandered nearer to the seated group than was actually necessary in order to get a good view of the old lady, or to overhear a part of what she and Julia had to say to each other. At Julia's request the waitress had found Mrs. Blair, and after making the necessary introduction, Julia had led Madame Du Launy, accompanied by Mrs. Blair, to the flower table. No one who had ever heard Madame Du Launy called miserly, could have believed this true while watching her progress from table to table at the Bazaar. Though every one knew that she had her own little conservatory, she bought plants and cut flowers with great liberality, and while she always asked the price of each thing, she never demurred at the stated sum.
When Madame Du Launy and her little party approached the fancy-work table, Frances fairly bristled with importance, and displayed her goods, as if conferring the greatest favor. In spite of this rather forbidding manner on the part of the young saleswoman, Madame Du Launy proved a good patron. She bought one set of Edith's doilies, as well as several smaller things, and then her eye fell on the water color, which, to display it the better, had been hung on the wall back of the table.
"Is that for sale?" she asked rather abruptly.
"Why, no, or rather, yes," replied Frances with a certain hesitation.
"At least it has been for sale," she added.
"Is it sold?" asked Mrs. Blair in some surprise; "a short time ago, I understood that you had not found a purchaser."
Frances reddened a little under Mrs. Blair's rather searching glance, and reddened still more deeply as Mrs. Blair continued, "Has any one bought it within the last half hour?"
"Why, no," said Frances, "not exactly, although—"
During this conversation, an expression of annoyance had come over Madame Du Launy's face. Apparently she was accustomed to having whatever she expressed a desire to buy, and this reluctance on the part of Frances was far from agreeable to her. It was hardly less distasteful to Mrs. Blair.
"I should think, Frances, that as valuable a thing as this would either be for sale, or if sold would have had a purchaser, whom you could mention."
"I wish that Belle were here," murmured Frances rather helplessly.
"Why I thought that you and Edith had complete charge here," remarked Mrs. Blair.
"Well, so we had, but Edith is resting now, and——"
"It is of no consequence, Mrs. Blair, there are other pictures elsewhere that will probably suit me as well, only I imagined that the young ladies wished to sell this one," interposed Madame Du Launy haughtily, and holding her head rather high, she started in the direction of the surprise table. Now just at this moment Miss South, who had been amusing herself with some of Nora's funny little surprise packages, turned away from this table to meet Julia who was walking a step or two behind Madame Du Launy and Mrs. Blair. She had removed her hat, and her wavy, brown hair, was dressed rather low on each side of her forehead, somewhat as we have seen it in the portraits of a generation or two ago. She smiled brightly as her eye met Julia's, and then she looked toward Mrs. Blair and Madame Du Launy, whom evidently she had not noticed before. For as her eye fell on the latter she gave a start of surprise. At the same time the latter, with a gasp, leaned heavily on the arm of her attendant, and would have fallen had he not led her quickly to a chair.
For several moments all was confusion. While trying not to show an inconsiderate curiosity, the girls behind the tables could not help leaving their places, though they stood at a fair distance from the spot where Julia and Miss South and two or three older women were trying to do what they could to revive Madame Du Launy. Although she had not actually fainted, she was certainly not herself, and for several minutes she leaned back in her chair with her eyes half-closed. Yet although she looked pale and almost pitiful with the lines of age clearly showing in her face, she would not accept help from any one, not even the glass of water which they offered her. At last, after a time that seemed longer than it really was to those who stood by, she opened her eyes, and without a word to those standing near, motioned to her man.
"My carriage, at once," was all she said, then motioning to him again she took his arm, as she rose from her seat. Turning for a moment toward Julia who had extended her hand, "Good-bye, dear," she murmured as she started to walk with stately step across the room.
The whole thing had been so strange—Madame Du Launy's fainting-spell, and her peculiar manner on coming to herself, that those who stood near instead of making any comments only gazed after the old lady in surprise. In the midst of the excitement Miss South, too, had slipped away, and on making enquiries about her Julia was told that she had gone home.
Yet although at the very moment of this strange occurrence no one had had much to say, when the girls gathered in little groups aside, their tongues swung back and forward with great energy.
"What in the world could have caused it?" was asked on every hand, and many were the guesses and speculations as to what had caused the little scene.
"Oh, old ladies ought not to try to go to festive places like this," said one of the girls glancing around the long room with its walls paneled with mirrors, its decorations of vines, and plants, and bright streamers.
"Especially old ladies who have hardly set foot in the house of any one else for fifty years, more or less," added another.
"Well, even then I don't see what made her faint," said Nora, who happened to have heard the last remark. "There wasn't anything particularly exciting going on here."
"Oh," replied Belle, "it had something to do with Miss South. I stood where I could see Madame Du Launy's face, and when she fainted she had just met Miss South's eye, and didn't you notice, Miss South looked as if she would like to faint herself!"
"How ridiculous!" said a girl who had newly joined the group, "you always see more than any one else does, Belle."
"What if I do? I am just as often right, and you can see for yourself that Miss South is not here now. I noticed that she hurried away as soon as she could."
"What if she did?" cried Nora; "I do think, Belle, that you are sometimes perfectly ridiculous. Any number of people are not here now, who were in the room half an hour ago."
"Oh, you know what I mean, Nora; mark my words there is something queer about the whole thing."
"How in the world, I wonder, did Madame Du Launy happen to know about the Bazaar?" asked Frances Pounder.
"Why, Frances Pounder, where have you been?" cried Nora.
"Why, yes, Frances Pounder, where have you been?" echoed Belle. "Haven't you heard of the tremendous intimacy that has sprung up between Julia and Madame Du Launy since she rescued her little Fidessa from the park police? It really is a wonderful story, and we all expect Julia to be the old lady's heir."
"Come, come," interrupted Nora, "we can't afford to waste our time gossiping; we should be thankful that Madame Du Launy ventured to come here at all, for she bought any number of things, and paid good prices, and now if we do not return to our tables, we may lose all the patronage of the other old ladies who are wandering about."
So two by two the little crowd dispersed. Some of the girls went behind the tables, while others hovered about, picking and choosing what they should buy according to their purses or their taste.
But to tell all the happenings of that afternoon and evening would take a longer time than can be spared to it now. In the evening not only the fathers and uncles of many of the girls came upon the scene, but Philip and his friends appeared to form a small army of purchasers. The latter were not on the whole inclined to buy very expensive things, though they patronized the refreshment table so steadily that Belle had to beg one of the New York boys to become assistant cashier. They also almost swept the flower booth clean of cut flowers and plants, to the loss of the little patients in the children's hospital, who might otherwise have been benefited, had any flowers been left over. Yet although I say that they did not buy a great deal I must not be misunderstood. They did carry off all kinds of little things that they thought would raise a laugh in their college rooms. Philip, for example, bought a work-basket, lined with pink and white silk, grumbling as he did so that this was the nearest approach he could find to crimson. Besides that he paid a good price for the doll which he had admired, and which Nora had mischievously reserved for him by pinning to it a card bearing his name. He also bought a small hammock of twisted ribbons, in which he said he intended to suspend the doll in a conspicuous place over his mantelpiece.
Tom Hurst had to buy two or three tobacco pouches, and in addition he chose a rattle, the covering of which Nora had knitted and decorated with bells.
"Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw,"
"Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw,"
quoted Nora, as he carried away his purchase, at the same time presenting him with a wisp of straws from a broom, which she had tied together with a piece of crimson ribbon. "To be forever cherished," responded Tom, as he walked off with his trophies, in a tone that made the usually unsentimental Nora blush.
As to Will Hardon, he lost no time in going to the table over which Frances and Edith presided to enquire for a sofa pillow which had been reserved for him.
"Reserved!" cried Edith in a tone of surprise, for Ruth had taken her into the secret. "I thought it was understood that nothing could be reserved here——"
Will's face fell, for he was very much in earnest.
"Oh, now Miss Blair," he said, "you surely were not in earnest last evening; you know that I had made up my mind to that pillow."
"Wouldn't something else do just as well?" she asked, "this centrepiece for example,Iworked this," with an emphasis on the pronoun.
"Why, it's very pretty," said poor Will, "only I shouldn't know what to do with it, but I'd like it very much, really I would," he hastened to add, as Edith looked a little serious.
"Well, I'm sorry," she responded, "that you fix your affection on such impossible things; now this centrepiece is also disposed of. Mrs. Barlow has bought it, and will take it home this evening."
"Also," exclaimed Will, "you said 'also,' do you mean that the sofa pillow is really gone?"
Edith could not help smiling at his expression of disappointment.
"Here comes Ruth," she said, "ask her;" and Ruth, with her hands full of flowers which she was carrying across the room to Mrs. Pounder, paused for a moment.
"Why, you look as if you were quarreling," she said to Edith, "you and—Mr. Hardon; can't I be umpire?"
"Why, yes," replied Will, "that was just what we wish, for you are the only one who really understands the merits of the case. You remember that cushion?"
Ruth looked sufficiently conscious to make further reply unnecessary.
"Of course youdoremember it," continued Will, "and you know that you more than half promised to save it for me. Now nobody here at this table seems able to tell me about it, at least Miss Blair isn't, and she ought to, if any one could, tell me just where it is."
"I am not sure," responded Edith, "that you have really put the question to me. At any rate I am positive that I have not made any statement about it."
"But you told me to refer to Miss Roberts, and I thought that that meant that you knew nothing about it."
"Well, honestly, I can't tell you about the cushion," said Ruth; "if any one offered more than one hundred dollars, which I think was your limit, I suppose that it has been sold."
"You think that I did not mean what I said," cried Will.
"Oh, no, indeed, but if any one offered more——"
All this time Edith had been standing with one hand behind her back, and at the last minute she raised her arm, and disclosed the cushion, which a minute before she had brought from its hiding-place beneath the table.
"There, that is mine," exclaimed the young man, "let me have it."
"Well, I declare!" cried Edith, as in surprise, "this card really does bear your name, and so I suppose that I must give you the cushion."
Will leaned forward eagerly. "Yes, it is mine, but," as he glanced at the card, "the price is not right. It is only one-tenth what I expected to pay."
"Why! would you really have paid one hundred dollars for it?" asked Ruth.
"Why not?" he asked.
"Oh, it is so much more than it is worth," she replied. "Even for the Rosas we could not have permitted it."
"Well," he answered, as he handed out the crisp ten dollar bill, which paid the price marked on the pillow, "well, I must make it up to the Rosas in some other way." Then turning toward Edith, "thank you, Miss Blair, for waiting on me, although you did give me a bad quarter of a minute, when you made me believe that I might have missed the purchase which I came expressly to make." So with a pleasant smile, carrying the pretty cushion on one arm, he walked across the room with Ruth.
Belle, as she watched them, could not help thinking how well they looked together, even though for the moment she felt a little jealousy of Ruth's growing popularity. Neither the evening before, nor during the whole progress of the Bazaar, had Belle received any special attention from even one of "the boys" as Philip and his friends were called collectively. Ruth, to be sure, was nearly a year and a half older than "The Four," and it was more natural that she should receive a little more attention of the kind that young ladies receive. But Belle thought that she herself felt as old as she should ever feel, and now since she wore her hair done up, and had skirts that almost touched, she did not see why she should not be treated just as if she were "grown up." To suit her ideas, therefore, of the deportment of a young lady, she had begun to assume a very coquettish manner. But this, instead of producing the desired effect—that of gaining for her great admiration, only amused the boys, and led them to make fun of her when by themselves. Edith through Philip, and Nora through her brother, had some knowledge of this fact. But Brenda regarded Belle with more or less awe, and considered her an exceedingly worldly-wise person. When, therefore, Belle proposed to her that instead of selling the water-color painting of which I have spoken, at a fixed price, they should vote it to the most popular young man of their acquaintance, Brenda acquiesced.
"You see it will be this way," said Belle, "we can get people to vote by taking shares."
"How much will the shares be?"
"Oh, a dollar, and we can easily sell a hundred and fifty dollars worth. I am sure that is a great deal better than letting the picture go for one hundred dollars."
"But isn't that the same as a raffle?"
"No, stupid, of course not."
"For you know that Mrs. Blair has forbidden us to have any raffles."
"Yes, I know about that rule, and a very silly rule it is, too," replied Belle, "but this isn't at all the same thing as a raffle. People just pay for the privilege of voting, and don't expect any gain for themselves, as they would in a lottery or raffle. It's a good thing, too, for the person they vote for, it's doing him good, and no one can disapprove of a plan to help other people," said Belle with an unselfishness of sentiment that could not have been looked for in her.
"Oh, no," said Brenda, hesitatingly, "I suppose not."
"All the same," Belle had continued, "I think that we had better not say anything to Edith and Nora about it, they might interfere in some way, and besides I am sure that they both have enough to do looking after their own tables."
"Well, but how can we get any votes if we do not say anything to anybody?" enquired Brenda.
"Oh, of course we must take Frances into our confidence. She is at the table where the picture is. There won't be much danger of its selling at once for one hundred dollars, and we can trust Frances to head any one off who pretends to wish to buy it."
So it was as a result of this plan of Belle's that Frances had prevented a sale of the picture to Madame du Launy. For at that time Brenda and Belle had a number of names on their books, enough in fact to represent one half the valuation of the picture. Each girl who voted was bound to secrecy, for Belle realized (though she had put it in a different light to Brenda) that she was violating the spirit, if not the letter of Mrs. Blair's command. Nevertheless the very fact that the carrying out of this plan involved a certain amount of mystery, gave the whole thing more zest than it would otherwise have had for the two.
Strangely enough, however, after the first fifty votes had been cast, with a great scattering as to the most popular youth, the two girls found it hard to get more names. The evening, indeed, was half over before the list had increased to sixty votes.
About this time an awkward thing happened. Running upstairs from the dining-room, Belle had dropped the neat little book in which she kept record of her votes, and when one of the maids handed it to Mrs. Blair, great was her surprise to find on the fly-leaf the sentence "voting contest for the picture."
"Whose handwriting is this?" she asked Edith, "and what does this all mean; surely none of you is carrying on a raffle."
"It's Belle's writing," answered Edith a little reluctantly, for she saw that her mother was angry. "But I do not know what it means."
Well after this, of course Belle was summoned to talk with Mrs. Blair, and though she reiterated that she had only desired to make as much money as she could for the Bazaar, Mrs. Blair insisted that Belle should give her all that she had already received to return to those who had subscribed or voted. Brenda, too, came in for a good share of reproof, and the whole thing was very humiliating to the two girls, who found themselves so clearly in the wrong. Beyond obliging them to conform, however, to her views of what was proper, Mrs. Blair had no intention of making them unduly uncomfortable.
"Think no more about it," she said, "only remember that you have prevented the sale of the picture, for I saw to-day that Madame Du Launy was very anxious to buy it."
After hearing this Brenda and Belle, although mortified, decided to make the best of the rest of the evening. They merely explained to some of the voters who asked them, that it had been decided to give up this plan for disposing of the picture, and that the money would be returned.
The episode of Madame Du Launy in the afternoon, and this little unpleasant incident of the evening were the only things to make this Bazaar seem very different from other Bazaars.
You know what they are all like, and that each fair or sale or Bazaar depends for its charm on the unity with which the workers carry things on, and the extent to which their friends patronize it, and I will say for "The Four" that they were much more in harmony through this whole affair than often they had been in the past, and that their friends—especially their young friends—did even more than had been expected of them to help swell the fund for the Rosas.
Brenda had been anxious to have one or two of this interesting family on the spot to work on the sympathies of the patrons of the Bazaar. She had thought that it would be delightful to have Angelina wait on the refreshment table, and she did not see why Manuel might not have been present all the time. "In some kind of fancy costume, of course, for I know that his own clothes would not be exactly clean and whole."
But Mrs. Blair had objected to the presence of the Rosas whether in fancy dress, or in their usual garb, and Mrs. Barlow had succeeded in making Brenda see that it would not be the best thing in the world for the Rosa children to be introduced to what must seem to them a scene of great luxury in a Back Bay house, even though it might be explained to them that part of the gorgeousness was due to a desire to help them—the special gorgeousness, I mean, of the Bazaar.
"Who in the world is to take care of all the money?" asked Nora, as she looked at the large tin box almost running over with silver and bills taken in as receipts at the various tables.
"Oh, Mrs. Blair is to put it in her safe to-night, and to-morrow it will be exchanged at the bank for large bills!" answered Brenda.
"And then——?"
"And then we must have a committee meeting to decide what is to be done with it. When it was last counted there were nearly three hundred dollars, and there has been something added to it since."
"Why, how perfectly splendid!" cried Nora; "why we should be able to do almost anything we wish to do for the Rosas; why, it is a regular fortune!" for Nora had ideas almost as vague as Brenda of the value of money.
"Oh, yes, we've done very well, but I am glad that it is all over; the Bazaar has been fun, but it is kind of a relief not to have it on my mind any more."
"Oh, Brenda, it hasn't worried you much, you took things very easy until the last day or two."
"Well, that's just it; I've felt so busy to-day, that I would like to rest for a week."
"But you haven't been half as busy as Julia, she has hardly left her post all day, and I think that she looks pretty tired."
"Dear me," said Brenda crossly, "if she had not wished to serve at the flower booth, we could have found some other girl to do it. Oh, Julia," she cried as her cousin drew near her, "are you coming home in the carriage with me?"
"Why, yes, if you wish it."
"Well, it has just taken papa and mamma home, and when it comes back, I shall be ready."
The pretty dancing-hall now presented a thoroughly disordered appearance. It was strewn with wrapping papers that had been pushed from behind the tables, or had been thrown there by careless persons who had tossed down the coverings of their surprise packages. There were also a number of faded flowers lying about, and the tables themselves were in confused heaps. For, of course, not everything had sold, and the "remains" as one of the boys called what was left, had to stay on the tables until the morning.
When Brenda and Julia were finally ready to go home, they were almost the last to leave. Even the Cambridge boys had said "good-bye" and Ruth and Frances had started for home.
"Thank you very much, Mrs. Blair, for letting us come here," said Brenda, as they left the room. For Brenda seldom forgot her good manners where older people were concerned, even though she was sometimes inclined to be pettish toward her younger friends.
"Why, what is that?" she enquired, as Julia had a large package lifted into the carriage.
"It's that water-color that was on Edith's table."
"Why, what are you taking it home for?"
"I have bought it," replied Julia quietly, "and I am going to give it to Aunt Anna."
Brenda was almost too much surprised to speak, for this was the picture which she and Belle had tried to raffle.
"But you did not pay one hundred dollars for it?"
"Why not?" said Julia with a smile, as they reached their door.
Brenda, herself, was too sleepy that night when she reached home, to express her surprise at Julia's having bought the picture. Yet she certainly wondered that the cousin whom she had hitherto regarded as bound down to economy, should have been able to spend so large a sum for a single purchase. Julia on her part was not surprised at her cousin's indifference, for Brenda had a way of seeming curious or especially interested only in relation to things that immediately concerned her. When they had separated, and Julia was alone in her own room, she had opportunity for the first time since the morning for thinking over all the events of the day. Her place at the Bazaar had been a very pleasant one, and while she had not had much to do with any of the girls except Ruth, her attention had been constantly occupied in disposing of her flowers. Philip and his friends had been especially good patrons, and the former had taken the chances that came to him of going up to the table and talking to Julia on one thing and another, not always connected with the Bazaar or with the Rosas. In spite of a certain amount of conceit—and what young sophomore is without this quality—Philip was really a very agreeable fellow, and in Julia he had some one ready to listen to him more attentively than was Edith's habit, or indeed that of the other girls. For Belle, for example, although she liked what she called "attention" from the boys of her set, wished to have the conversation turn entirely upon herself and her own affairs, and she always showed impatience when the person with whom she was talking turned to any other subject. Now Philip—though in this he was not so very different from other young men—liked to have some one to talk to who would listen sympathetically to his tales of college triumphs, or grievances, and occasionally give him a word of advice. In Julia he found not only an attentive listener, but an intelligent adviser. So although the Bazaar was not just the place for confidences, he had been able to have several pleasant little snatches of conversation with Julia. She had enjoyed these little fragmentary talks as much as Philip had, and they both had had much amusement from his rather clumsy attempts to help her in arranging bouquets for her customers.
Julia, therefore, had many pleasant things to recall connected with the Bazaar, and not the least pleasant was the fact that she had been able to contribute a good deal toward helping the Rosas.
The one strange feature of the whole affair had been the sudden departure of Madame Du Launy. "And why," mused Julia, "did Miss South go away without bidding me good-bye? I know that she meant to stay until evening. Well, perhaps it will all be explained. Though certainly now I cannot understand it all. Perhaps to-morrow—" and here Julia fell asleep with the question still unsettled.
Early the next morning—as soon at least as she had had her breakfast, Julia started off to find Miss South, but the maid at her boarding-house said that she had gone out and probably would not be back before evening; with this she had to be content, although in addition to general enquiries about the strange event of the day before, she wished to talk over with Miss South some of the plans which they had been discussing for the assistance of the Rosa family. They had been finally successful in getting Mrs. Rosa to promise to go to the country for the summer, if for no longer a time. They had found a house in Shiloh, a small village with elevated land not so very far from Boston, and they were sure that a residence there would benefit the sick woman. A man whom Miss South knew, who had been at one time given up by the doctors as in hopeless consumption, had moved to this village, and after a year had been pronounced almost well. He had opened a little shop there, his children had found employment for their spare hours, and the family had at last started on the high road to prosperity. This was a great change for them, for during their father's illness in town, they had often had to have charitable relief. Miss South's plan for Mrs. Rosa included a certain amount of work for the family. A farmer had been found who promised to employ the oldest boy, and a woman who took summer boarders said that she could pay Angelina two dollars a week, to help in her kitchen, if she could sleep at home. The house which they had selected had a small piece of land where it was hoped that Mrs. Rosa could raise some vegetables.
To accomplish what they wished, considerable money was needed, and they had enlisted Brenda's interest to so great an extent that she professed herself perfectly willing to have the money raised at the Bazaar used to rent and equip the house, and pay the many little expenses that would be caused by the enterprise. "As Brenda really has been interested in Manuel, it would be hardly fair to leave her out of this plan, although," said Julia, "although we might get on without her help."
"Oh, dear, no," Miss South had said, "it would never in the world do to overlook Brenda. She is an impulsive little thing, and although Mrs. Rosa and the children might have fared badly this winter, had they had no one but Brenda to depend on, still it is a great advance for Brenda to be interested in some one besides herself, and it is excellent discipline for her to have a certain share in carrying out this plan. It is not altogether a matter of money."
Now, Brenda, of course, in deciding to favor the plan proposed by Miss South was not acting entirely for herself. Edith, Nora, and Belle were as much concerned as she, and Nora in fact, as the rescuer of Manuel, was more interested than any of the others. Belle, the only one who might have been expected to oppose Miss South's plan, really had no objection to it. Her one thought in the whole matter had been to get as much pleasure and glory as possible out of the Bazaar itself. Edith, while practical about some things,—needlework for example, and lessons,—seldom put her mind on money matters, and Nora was as heedless about this as about other things. Brenda was almost as heedless, and yet The Four had thought it perfectly proper that she should be treasurer of their little fund.
So it happened that on the very morning when Julia was trying to find Miss South, Brenda had received from Mrs. Blair's hands four crisp one hundred dollar notes. This was a little more than had been taken at the Bazaar. But in getting the loose bills and cheques changed into more compact form, Mrs. Blair had added enough to make the sum an even four hundred dollars.
The other three girls were with Brenda as she received the money from Mrs. Blair, and immediately they sat down to count up the expenses that must be paid from their receipts. Rather to Mrs. Blair's surprise these expenses mounted up to more than one hundred dollars, and she scolded The Four a little for having engaged an expensive orchestra for the music of the preceding evening, when music was not really needed at all. The ices and other things furnished the refreshment room made another large item in the bills, although there had been some profit from this department.
"I will take one of your one hundred dollar bills, and with it pay the expenses," said Mrs. Blair, "and I would advise you to take care of the three hundred dollars, for after all it is not a large sum to be used toward the support of a sick woman and five children."
"Of course we'll take care of it, at least Brenda will," cried Nora, as Brenda folded the money away carefully in her purse, and placed the purse in a small leather bag. Then they went home with Brenda, and they saw her lock the bag into her top bureau drawer.
After this they sat for a while as girls will, idly talking about the affairs of the day, while Mrs. Barlow's French maid bustled about, laying away some new waists and skirts of Brenda's that had just come home from the dressmaker's.
"Look," at last cried Brenda, jumping up from her seat impetuously, "look, Marie, did you ever see so much money," and opening the drawer and the purse she brandished the three hundred dollar bills before the eyes of the young Frenchwoman.
"Oh, my! Mees," cried Marie, "three dollars, that is not so very much!"
"Three dollars!" shouted Brenda, "three hundred dollars, what you call twelve hundred francs."
"Oh, my!" exclaimed Marie, her eyes almost jumping out of her head, "oh, my! I never did see so much money, let me look." So they let her touch the bills, and they laughed at the comments she made, and especially when she cried, "Louis would marry me if that money was mine."
"I thought he was going to anyway," said Belle, "you have always said that you were engaged."
"Oh, yes," she replied. "Oh, yes, sometime, perhaps, but it takes much money to get married. If I have to wait too long, perhaps Louis will find another girl with more money. But no matter." And she went out of the room looking much less cheerful than before she had seen the money.
"How mercenary!" said Belle as she disappeared, for Belle always had a word large enough to fit every happening.
"Well, it must be hard not to have any money but just what you earn every week," interposed Edith sympathetically.
"Oh it's better not to have much money than to have a man think only of that in marrying you," responded Belle in her most worldly-wise voice.
"Come, I think that we are talking of things that we know nothing about," said Nora, "but if I were you, Brenda, I would not let every one in the house know where that money is."
"Nonsense, I always carry the key with me, and anyway it won't be here long," answered Brenda.
"No matter, if I were you I would give it to Mr. Barlow to take down town."
"Yes, you ought to," added Edith.
"Oh, what fusses you are!" cried Brenda, "any one would think that I was a two-year-old baby."
Just then there was a tap at the door.
"May I come in?" said a voice, which they at once recognized as Julia's.
"Yes, indeed," cried Nora and Edith, and the former flung the door wide open and greeted Julia with a kiss.
"Where have you been, but of course you have been to see Miss South. It was so funny that she did not stay last evening. What was the reason?"
"Well I did not find her; she was not expected home to-day," answered Julia.
"How queer!"
"Why, to tell you the truth, I was a little surprised myself, for we had an appointment together this morning, although if we had not had one, I should have gone up there to find out if she was ill yesterday."
"Oh, tell me," enquired Edith, "have you heard anything about Madame Du Launy? Mamma said that she would send there to enquire this morning, but I have not been home since she sent."
"Yes," said Julia, "I did make enquiries at the house, and was told that she was feeling pretty well to-day, but that she could not see anybody."
"Not even you!" exclaimed Belle, a little sarcastically.
"Not even me," replied Julia pleasantly. "I suppose for one thing that the Bazaar yesterday tired her. They tell me that it is the first time in twenty years that she has been inside of any house in Boston besides her own."
"I wonder if that is true," said Edith, reflectively.
"Yes, I believe that it is," answered Julia. "Madame Du Launy said almost as much to me, although I must admit that she never talks very much about that kind of thing. As often as I have seen her this spring, she has never said a word to me on the subject of Boston people and their attitude to her,—or her attitude to them—" she hastened to add.
"You talk like a book, Julia," said Brenda, who had complained once or twice that Julia talked too precisely, "like a school-teacher," she generally said, when she spoke on the subject to Belle.
Julia laughed good-naturedly. Brenda's little arrows did less harm now than in the earlier part of the season.
"So long as I make myself clear, it is all right, isn't it?" she asked.
"Oh, of course," answered Brenda, "but you and Belle always do use such alarmingly correct expressions."
"Brenda," called Mrs. Barlow from the floor below. The girls exchanged glances. There was something ominous in the tone, and even the dilatory Brenda decided that it would be best to respond as quickly as possible to the summons.
Thereupon the other girls rose to go. In fact, the morning was almost over, and during the two or three hours which The Four had spent together they had talked about everything connected with the Bazaar until there was little more for them to say. The late hours which they had been keeping were telling upon them all, and if any one of them had been asked to tell what she felt the most need of at that particular moment, she would probably have said, "A good nap."
Julia, however, was the only one to say frankly that she felt sleepy, and she excused herself as the others went downstairs, while they bade her good-bye at the door of her own room. She had been there but a few minutes seated in a wicker easy-chair before the long window which afforded a beautiful view of the river, when the door was hastily flung open, and in a second Brenda stood before her.
"I think that you are just as mean as you can be, Julia Bourne," she cried angrily. "It does seem as if I ought not to have spies in my own house watching everything that I do and carrying tales just as if I were a baby."
"Why, what do you mean, Brenda?" asked Julia in genuine astonishment.
"You know very well what I mean. You and Miss South, you saw me with Belle the other afternoon; oh, it wasn't so long ago that you could forget it, you saw us down there by the Music Hall and you told mamma that we had been there. Anyway, I do not see whose business it is. We are old enough to go about by ourselves, but I think that you are just as mean as you can be," and with this final outburst Brenda flung herself from the room without giving Julia time to reply.
The latter for a moment sat in her chair completely puzzled. Then she remembered the day on which she and Miss South returning from the North End had seen Belle and Brenda in Winter Street. The two girls had disappeared so quickly that she did not suppose at the time that they had seen her. Now, however, it seemed that they had been merely in hiding. But of one thing she was sure, she had never spoken of the encounter to her aunt, and all this torrent of anger on Brenda's part was wholly uncalled for. It did seem too bad that Brenda should have taken this tone just as she had begun to hope that she and her cousin were to understand each other. On the other hand the case was not very serious, since to Brenda in a calmer mood it would be very easy to give an explanation. Yet if it were not for her uncle and aunt, who were always considerate, Julia now felt that it would be hard for her to continue under the same roof with Brenda. Julia herself, had always been closely observant of the golden rule. Nor was her piety of the kind that was displayed only on occasions. She had been most regular in her attendance at Sabbath-school, and she and Nora and Edith never thought of letting rain, or heat, or any other thing prevent their attendance at the morning service as well. But besides these outward observances she kept the spirit of the teachings of her Church, or tried to keep them in her daily life. Neither Brenda, therefore, nor any one else could accuse her of hypocrisy. She believed strongly in the soft answer that turneth away wrath, and yet no one could say that behind any one else's back she indulged in harsh criticism.
At luncheon Brenda did not come to the table, and a question or two from Mrs. Barlow brought out the fact that Brenda had vented on her cousin part of the annoyance that she had felt at her mother's reproof.
"Of course I shall make it clear to Brenda that I did not get my information from you. Indeed I do not see how she could have thought so. I certainly intimated that I had had my information from some one who had seen her in the hall. In going there with Belle, Brenda broke two well-understood rules of mine. In the first place she is not allowed to go down town except with some older person. It the second place I disapprove of young girls going to matinees of any kind, and the performance they went to see was not at all a proper one for them. I know that I had previously declined to take them. Brenda knew my opinion of this particular performance, and two friends of mine who saw her and Belle there were exceedingly surprised that I had permitted them to go alone. They spoke of the matter incidentally to me, and in that way I learned of Brenda's disobedience. But I am sorry that Brenda should have troubled you about the affair, for I know that when she is angry she can say very disagreeable things."
"It is not of very much consequence, Aunt Anna," replied Julia, "as long as it is a thing that can be straightened out. If I really had seen Brenda at the Hall, I might have mentioned the fact without realizing that it could make her so angry, but when she understands about this I am sure that we shall be as good friends as ever."
"I hope so," responded Mrs. Barlow.