CHAPTER II
Changes
Mrs. Dallas greeted Eleanor's tempestuous entrance with, "Softly, dear, you know papa is not well." Eleanor lowered her excited tones and poured forth her grievance, Mrs. Dallas listening quietly. At the close of the recital she said: "I am sorry, my child, that it has happened, and from what you tell me, I do not think Janet will prove to be just the kind of a friend you would prefer. I think the best plan will be for me to send a note to Mrs. Forrester and tell her that we will use every means to find the ring, and ask her to let us know if it is discovered at her own home."
"Please don't let Bubbles take the note."
"No, I will not. I am going to send a prescription to the drug store, and the note can be taken at the same time, but if Bubbles does not take it, I think you will have to."
"O, mamma, I don't want to. Can't Sylvy go?"
"I cannot spare her."
Eleanor was silent for a moment. She did not want to subject Bubbles to a possible wordy attack from Janet, and yet she dreaded seeing her late companion again. But her loyalty to Bubbles at last overcame all other feeling, and she said: "I don't have to go in, do I, mamma? I can leave the note at the door?"
"Yes, that will be quite sufficient."
"Then I will go instead of Bubbles."
Her mother smiled. "I thought you would decide it so. I can generally be sure of my little daughter's good heart."
"You don't believe Bubbles took the ring, do you, mamma?"
"No, I think Janet has probably dropped it somewhere."
Eleanor started off on her errand, and after going to the drug store, she went on to deliver the note, and reached the gate just in time to meet Mrs. Forrester coming out with Janet. The two little girls looked at each other in rather an embarrassed way. It was not an agreeable meeting for either of them.
"This is one of your little school friends, isn't it, Janet?" Mrs. Forrester asked. "Oh, you have a note for me? Wait a minute."
Eleanor would rather have made her escape at once, but she obediently remained while Mrs. Forrester read the note. "Why, I don't know anything about this," said the lady. "What does your mamma mean? What ring is it she mentions?"
"Janet lost a pearl ring at our house," Eleanor answered.
"Did she? I didn't know she had one," said Mrs. Forrester laughing. "That is one of your fairy tales, Janet."
"I did have a pearl ring, and that nigger girl stole it," Janet returned.
Eleanor flushed up. "She means Bubbles, and I know she didn't steal it."
"You are a silly little creature, Janet," said Mrs. Forrester airily. "Where did you get your valuable ring?"
"I bought it for five cents."
Mrs. Forrester laughed again. "So precious it must have been. Here, take this five cents and go buy another, and that will end the matter."
"I don't want another, I want that one."
"You spoiled child, I don't believe you did lose it, you just wanted me to give you the nickel." She turned to Eleanor. "Don't pay any more attention to it, my child," she said. "It is really of no consequence."
"Her name is Dimple," broke in Janet.
"My name is Eleanor," maintained the other, sturdily.
"It's of no consequence, Dimple," Mrs. Forrester said. "You can tell your mother that Janet has her ring."
"But she hasn't," said Eleanor in surprise.
"She will have as soon as we can go to the shop and get it."
This sort of reasoning was quite new to Eleanor, and she stood stock still puzzling over it. While she stood thus a housemaid came out with something in her hand. "You left this in the sitting-room on the windowsill," she said to Janet, holding out a little trumpery ring. Janet shot one look at Eleanor, and Eleanor with a dignified "Good-evening," turned away thoroughly disgusted with this new acquaintance, and it is safe to say that Bubbles was immediately informed of the finding of the ring, and was, moreover, told that Eleanor did not intend to play with Janet any more, a fact which pleased Bubbles mightily.
The next few days, however, were very anxious ones for Mrs. Dallas, for her husband was found to have a severe attack of rheumatic fever, and even after he was pronounced better, his recovery was so slow that at last the doctor said he must go away to some famous springs in the far west. The day after this was decided upon, Mrs. Dallas called Eleanor to her. "My little girl," she said, "I am going to ask you to do a very hard thing for papa and me."
Eleanor looked up with wide open blue eyes. "Of course I'll do it, mamma."
"Wait, dear, till you know what it is. You know the doctor says papa must go away; now, I do not feel as if he were well enough to travel that distance alone, besides, in every way it would be better for me to go with him. He is greatly depressed, and if he were to go off alone he would mope and be homesick, and the trip would not do him the good that it ought to. Now, dear, it will be a very expensive journey and it will not be possible for us to take our little daughter, and besides, now that she is fairly started in school we do not want her to be interrupted, so dear——"
"Oh mamma!" came with piteous entreaty.
Mrs. Dallas put her arm around the child and drew her close to her. "Darling, you do not know how hard it is going to be for me to leave you."
Eleanor winked away her tears. "Oh mamma, why can't I go to Aunt Eleanor's and go to school with Florence?"
"Because several of your Aunt Eleanor's children have the whooping-cough. Florence was the last to succumb, so a letter from Aunt Eleanor to-day told me, and you know your Uncle Heath and Aunt Dora have gone to California to look after some business there that must be settled up, and Rock will be sent to boarding-school, so you cannot go to them."
"And shall you leave me here all alone?"
"No, indeed; papa and I have talked it over and we have decided to ask Cousin Ellen Murdoch to come here with her family, and remain while we are gone."
"She is the one whose husband died a little while ago and left her with—how many children?"
"Four. Yes, she is the one."
"But, mamma——"
"Well, dear."
"I thought—I didn't know that you were very fond of her."
Mrs. Dallas smiled. "Perhaps I am not so fond of her as I am of some persons."
"Then why do you let her come to your house?"
"Because she needs a change of scene, and it would be a good thing for her if she could come here till her affairs are straightened out. It is not only toward those we like that we should show consideration. We ought not to be so selfish as to entertain only those persons who are agreeable to us. If a person needs our sympathy we ought to offer it in whatever way we can."
"Do you think I ought to entertain Janet?"
"No," answered Mrs. Dallas smiling, "I don't think she needs your consideration; if she were in trouble and you could do her a kindness I think you should do it. Some day you may have an opportunity of doing some such thing, and then I hope you will not hesitate to do it."
"Mamma."
"Well, dear?"
"Was Cousin Ellen ever hateful to you?"
"You mustn't ask such searching questions, dear child. All you have to do is to make it as pleasant as possible for her while she is here. She has had much trouble and sorrow, but I know she will take excellent care of you, and the rest we must not think about. Sylvy and Bubbles will be here and you will be in your own home."
"But, mamma, I shall miss you so."
"And I shall miss you, my pet." They hugged each other, but when Eleanor felt tears splash down from other eyes than her own she squeezed her mother tighter and said: "Please don't cry, mamma, I will be very good, I will so."
"Thank you for the promise, dear. If papa sees you are bright and cheerful about our going it will make him feel easier, and so will help him to get well the sooner. See what a baby your mamma is. I must not go before papa with such teary eyes."
"With blue eyes trimmed with red," said Eleanor laughing. "Let me go tell him that I don't mind so very, very much, and—oh mamma, is there a baby?"
"You mean among Cousin Ellen's children? Yes, there is a little girl about a year and a half old."
"I shall like that. I love babies." And with this Eleanor left the room to go to her father.
The next few days were full of excitement, for the packing and arranging required Mrs. Dallas' constant attention. Mrs. Murdoch was not to arrive till the evening of the day which saw Mr. and Mrs. Dallas take their departure. Eleanor kept up bravely till she saw the carriage turn the corner and then she sobbed unrestrainedly. It was not only that it wrung her heart to see her father come hobbling on crutches out of the house, but he looked so pale and thin that the thought of being separated from him and from her mother was more than she could bear. Never before did she remember having her mother parted from her for any length of time, certainly a week, at the furthest, was the very longest time that they had ever been away from each other.
Bubbles tried her best to comfort her. "Ne' mind, Miss Dimple," she said. "Yo' pa goin' off on crutches, but terreckly he comin' back 'thout 'em. Yuh don' want him go hippy-hop all he lifetime."
"Bubbles tried her best to comfort her"
"Bubbles tried her best to comfort her"
"Bubbles tried her best to comfort her"
"No," sobbed Eleanor, "of course I don't, but I do wish he hadn't that horrid rheumatism, and I want my mamma, I do, I do. It will be so long before I see her again. I wish I could go, oh, I wish I could go!" she sobbed afresh.
Bubbles clasped her knees entreatingly, the tears rolling down her own cheeks in sympathy. "Miss Dimple, ef yuh cries that-a-way, I git so miserble I won't know what to do," she said.
"I'm miserable," said Eleanor. "I wish Florence didn't have the whooping-cough, then I could go to Aunt Eleanor's." Then suddenly she thought of Rock Hardy, who this year was at boarding-school. That must be worse than being left in one's own home, and she began thinking so hard about him that the tears ceased to flow, and, although it was a very mournful little face which was seen about the house for the next hour, no more tears were shed that afternoon.
Mrs. Dallas had suggested that Eleanor should go with Bubbles to the train to meet her relatives, and about five o'clock they started down to the railroad station. "I don't like to see the cars," said Eleanor; "they make me think of mamma and papa; they are traveling on and on, and every minute takes them further away." But at this moment the train came in sight and in watching for the newcomers Eleanor for the moment, forgot her griefs.
"There they are, Bubbles," she cried. "I am sure that lady in black is Cousin Ellen, and there are the two little girls and the boy. Where is the baby, I wonder. Oh, the conductor is lifting her down. She can walk, you see, for he has set her down on the platform." She went forward rather timidly, saying, "I am Eleanor Dallas, and this is Bubbles. You are Cousin Ellen, aren't you? Shall Bubbles carry the baby?"
Mrs. Murdoch assented. "I shall be glad if some one will take charge of her. I am tired to death. Here, Donald, take these checks and find an expressman to take the trunks. Eleanor will show you where to go. Come, Olive, come, Jessie, we can go on."
Thrust thus suddenly into the company of a strange boy, Eleanor had nothing to say for some minutes. She was not used to boys, and, as a rule, avoided them. The one before her was not specially attractive, she thought, but after a while she found her voice and said: "Here is the place."
Donald threw down the checks. "Where are the trunks to go? What is your number?" he asked Eleanor curtly.
She told him and when the address was given they went on, Donald striding along with his hands in his pockets and vouchsafing no reply to Eleanor's "we go this way."
"Do we have to walk? Aren't there any electric cars?" he asked when they had turned the first corner.
"Yes, but it isn't very far, and the cars don't go by our house," Eleanor told him.
"'Tisn't much of a place, is it?"
"It isn't a real big city, of course. Did you think it was?"
"No, but you needn't be so smart."
Eleanor wondered wherein she had shown her special smartness, and made up her mind, then and there, that this boy was not going to be any company for her. He was about nine years old, but assumed the manner of a boy older. The two girls seemed to be about six and eleven.
Eleanor was glad when they reached home; the others had already arrived. It gave the child a pang to see Mrs. Murdoch established in her mother's room, although it seemed perfectly proper that the girls should occupy the guest chamber. A little room back of it was set apart for Donald.
"Say, mamma, I don't like that room," he said on seeing it. "I want one next to you. Isn't there one there?"
"Yes, but it is Eleanor's room."
"Well, I don't care. I always have a room next to you. Her mother isn't here and she won't care."
"You will be next to your sisters," said Mrs. Murdoch.
"I don't want to be next to a pair of giggling girls. I want to be next to you, so I can call you if I have earache or anything."
Mrs. Murdoch looked uncertainly at Eleanor. "Perhaps Eleanor would just as lief be next the girls," she said.
"Mamma said I was to keep my own room," returned Eleanor with rising color. "It has always been my room since I had one."
"Oh, very well," said Mrs. Murdoch. "We'll see about it after a while, Donald." But Donald's black looks did not add to Eleanor's serenity, and she felt that every mouthful of supper would choke her although Sylvy had prepared a specially appetizing meal.