Man carrying girl under his armTHE STURDY FELLOW CARRIED HER OUT OF THE ROOM.
THE STURDY FELLOW CARRIED HER OUT OF THE ROOM.
"Not that way—not that way!" shouted the firemen, pointing towards a glowing, spreading patch on the ceiling of the main hall. "It's breaking through—you can't reach the door! It's not safe at that end."
"Down to the basement!" shouted the Janitor, nodding toward a narrow doorway, through which the men promptly vanished.
Then, seemingly, a new thought assailed the Janitor.
"Open door number twelve," he shouted after the men.
Then, hurriedly pushing up a sliding door at the safest end of the hall and murmuring "Quicker this way," the Janitor unceremoniously lifted Mabel and dropped her down the big dust-chute.
What a place for a heroine! In spite ofher surprise, Mabel felt deeply mortified. It was humiliating enough for a would-be rescuer to be rescued; but to be dropped down a horrid, stuffy dust-chute and to land with a queer, springy thud on a pile of sliding stuff—the contents of a dozen or more waste-baskets and the results of innumerable sweepings—was worse.
In a very few seconds, the hasty Janitor had opened the lower door of the chute and, with the firemen standing by, was calmly hauling her out by her feet—Oh! She couldnevertell that part of it.
And then, as if that were not bad enough, that inconsiderate Janitor seized her by the elbow and hurried her right into the coal bin, forced her to march over eighty tons of black, dusty, sliding coal and finally compelled her to crawl—yes,crawl—out of a small basement window on the safest side of the building. The only explanation that the rescuer vouchsafed was a gruff statement that the fire was "More to the other end"and that short-cuts saved time. Mabel tried to tell him whatshethought about it, but the Janitor seemed too excited to listen.
Of course, by this time, the Bennetts, the Cottagers, the firemen, the Janitor's wife and most of the bystanders were in a perfectly dreadful state of mind; for the coal-hole window was not on their side of the building—Mabel was glad of that—so none of her friends witnessed her exit. The Cottagers, in particular, were clutching each other and fairly quaking with fear when a familiar voice behind them panted breathlessly:
"I saved it, girls."
Jean, Marjory and Bettie wheeled as one girl. It was certainly Mabel's voice, the shape and size were Mabel's, but the color——
"Oh!" cried Jean, in a horrified tone. "Are youburned? Are you all burned up to a crisp?"
But thoughtful Bettie, after one searchinglook to make certain that it really was Mabel, had not stopped to ask questions, nor to hear them answered. She remembered that the Bennetts were still anxious concerning their missing daughter, and straightway flew to relieve their minds.
"She's safe, Mabel's safe," she shouted, running to the Bennetts, to Mr. Black, to the Tuckers, to all Mabel's friends, and completely forgetting her own usual shyness. "Yes, she's all safe. No, not burned; just scorched, I guess."
Then everybody crowded around Mabel. Mrs. Bennett was about to kiss her, but desisted just in time.
"Mabel!" she cried, as Jean had done. "Are you burned?"
"No," mumbled Mabel, indignantly. "I'm not even singed. I—I just came out through the coal hole, but you needn't tell. That horrid Janitor dragged me out over a whole mountain of coal."
"Thank Heaven!" breathed Mrs. Bennett.
"Huh!" snorted Mabel, "that's a mighty queer thing to thank Heaven for, when it was only last night that I had a perfectly good bath. That's the meanest Janitor——"
"Where is he?" demanded Dr. Bennett, eagerly. "I must thank him."
"Yes," said Mrs. Bennett, "I must thank him too."
"And I," said Dr. Tucker, "should like to shake hands with him."
And would you believe it! Not a soul had a word of praise for Mabel's bravery. Not a person commended her for saving that precious purse. Instead, the local paper devoted a whole column to lauding the prompt action of that sickening Janitor, Dr. Bennett gave him a splendid gold watch, the School Board recommended him for a Carnegie medal—all because of the dust-chute.
"Don't let me hear any more," Dr. Bennett said that night, "about that miserable two dollars and forty-seven cents. I'drather give you two hundred and forty-seven dollars than have you take such risks."
"Yes, sir," rejoined Mabel, meekly. "But you didn't say anything like that day before yesterday when I asked for three more cents to make it an even two-fifty. I must say I don't understand grown folks."
"Mabel, you go—go take that bath. And when you're clean enough to kiss, come back and say good-night."
"Yes, sir," sighed Mabel, "but Idowish Icouldraise three more cents."
Mr. Bennett fished two quarters and three pennies from his pocket and handed them to Mabel.
"There," said he, "you have an even three dollars, but I hope you won't consider it necessary to rescue them in case of any more fires."
Fortunately, there were no more fires; but the original one made up for this lack by lasting for an astonishing length of time. For seven days the school building continuedto burn in a safe but expensive manner; for the eighty tons of coal over which Mabel had walked so unwillingly had caught fire late in the afternoon and had burned steadily until entirely reduced to ashes. It was a strange, uncanny sight after dark to see the mighty ruin still lighted by a fitful glare from within. Only the four walls, the bare outer shell of the huge structure, remained. You see, all the rest of it had been wood—and steam pipes. Every splinter of wood was gone; but the pipes, and there seemed to be miles of them, were twisted like mighty serpents. They filled the cellar and seemed fairly to writhe in the scarlet glow. It made one think of dragons and volcanoes and things like that; and caused creepy feelings in one's spine.
Even the dust-chute was gone. Mabel was glad of that. She hated to think of the Janitor proudly pointing it out to visitors and saying:
"I once dropped a girl down there."
BUT if Mabel derived little joy from her experience as a heroine, there was at least some satisfaction in knowing that there could be no school on Monday, for Mabel was decidedly partial toward holidays.
"If I ever teach school," she often said, "there'll be two Saturdays every week and no afternoon sessions."
Jean, however, really liked to go to school. So did Marjory, but Bettie was uncertain.
"If," said Bettie, "I could go long enough to know what grade I belonged in it might be interesting; but when you only attend in patches it's sort of mixing. There's a little piece of me in three different grades."
When Mrs. Crane realized that there could be no school on Monday, she too waspleased. She stopped a moment after church on Sunday to intercept the girls on their way to Sunday School.
"My!" said she. "How spruce you look!"
They did look "spruce." Tall Jean was all in brown, even to her gloves and overshoes. Marjory's trim little winter suit was of dark green broadcloth with gray furs, for neat Aunty Jane, whatever her other failings, always kept Marjory very beautifully dressed. Bettie's short, kilted skirt was red under a boyish black reefer that had once belonged to Dick, and a black hat that Bob had discarded as "too floppy" had been wired and trimmed with scarlet cloth to match the skirt. This hand-me-down outfit was very becoming to dark-eyed Bettie, but then, Bettie was pretty in anything. Plump Mabel was buttoned tightly into a navy blue suit. Although she had owned it for barely six weeks it was no longer big enough either lengthwise or sidewise.
"But," said Mabel, cheerfully, "by holding my breath most of the time I can stand it for one hour on Sundays."
"How would you like," asked Mrs. Crane, "to spend to-morrow with me and Rosa Marie?"
"We'd love to," said Jean.
"We'd like it a lot," said Marjory.
"Just awfully," breathed Bettie.
"Oh, goody!" gurgled Mabel.
"You see," said Mrs. Crane, "I'm not altogether easy about Rosa Marie. I do every living thing I can think of, but someway I can't get inside that child's shell. I declare, it seems sometimes as if she really pities me for being so stupid. And I think she's falling off in her looks."
"Oh, Ihopenot," cried Mabel, fervently.
"No," agreed Marjory, "it certainly wouldn't do for Rosa Marie to fall off verymuch."
"However," returned Mrs. Crane, loyally, "she might be very much worse and atany rate she is warm and well fed, even if she does seem a bit—foreign. So that Janitor put you down through the dust-chute, did he, Mabel? You must have landed with quite a jolt."
"No," returned Mabel, rather sulkily, for every one was mentioning the dust-chute. "I had all September's and October's sweepings to land on. It was all mushy and springy, like mother's bed."
"How," pursued kindly Mrs. Crane, "did he get you out?"
"I'd—I'd rather not say," mumbled Mabel, flushing a brilliant crimson. No one else had thought to ask this dreaded question, and the papers, fortunately, had overlooked this detail.
"Why!" giggled teasing Marjory, "hemusthave dragged her out by her feet because she's so fat that she couldn't possibly have turned herself over in that narrow space. It's just like a chimney, you know. I've often looked down that place and wonderedif Santa Claus could manage the trip down. Oh, Mabel! It must have been funny! Tell us about it."
Mabel grinned, but it was rather a sickly grin.
"First," she said, "he clawed out a lot of papers and stuff. Ugh! It was horrid to feel everything sliding right out from under me—I didn't knowhowfar I was going to drop. Then he grabbed my two ankles and just jerked me out on the bias through the little door at the bottom. I suppose it was a lot quicker. But hedidn'tneed to make me climb all that coal."
"Yes, he did," returned Jean. "The cornice on the other three sides was all loose and flopping up and down in the flames. Pieces kept falling. The coal-bin side was the last to burn—the wind went the other way—and Miss Bonner's room was the last to catch fire."
"That Janitor," declared Mrs. Crane, with conviction, "knew exactly what he wasabout. Now, girls, you'll be sure to come to-morrow, won't you? I think it will do Rosa Marie good and there's a reason why I'd like a little company myself, but I shan't tell you just now what it is."
"Oh, do," begged all four.
"No," returned Mrs. Crane. "It's a secret, and not a living soul knows it but me. I'll tell you to-morrow."
"We'llsurelycome," promised the girls.
Of course they kept their promise. The four Cottagers arrived very soon after breakfast, were let in most sedately by Mr. Black's man, who smiled when the unceremonious visitors rushed pell-mell past him to fall upon Mrs. Crane, who was watering plants in the breakfast room.
"Tell us the secret!" shouted Mabel. "Oh—I mean good-morning!"
"Good-morning," smiled Mrs. Crane, setting the watering pot in a safe place. "The secret isn't a very big one. It's only that to-day is my birthday and I thought I'dlike to have a party. You're it. The cook is making me a birthday cake, but she doesn't know that it is a birthday cake."
"Goody!" cried Mabel.
"Doesn't Mr. Black know it's your birthday?" queried Jean.
"I don't think so. You see, it's a long time since Peter and I spent birthdays under the same roof, and men don't remember such things very well. We'll surprise him with the cake to-night. Now let's go to the nursery."
Rosa Marie's dull countenance brightened at sight of her four friends. She gave four solemn little bobs with her head.
"Mercy!" cried Marjory, "she's learning manners."
"And see," said Bettie, "she's stringing beads."
"That's a surprise," said Mrs. Crane, proudly. "I taught her that."
"Fourteen," said Rosa Marie, unexpectedly.
"Goodness me!" cried Mabel. "Can she count?"
"Ye-es," admitted Mrs. Crane, guardedly, "but not to depend on. In fact, fourteen is the only counting word shecansay. Peter taught her that."
"Fourteen," repeated Rosa Marie, holding up her string of beads.
"You ridiculous baby!" laughed Mabel, hugging her. "Who are the pretty beads for?"
Rosa Marie hurriedly clapped the string about her own brown throat.
"No, no," remonstrated Mrs. Crane. "You're making them for Mabel."
But Rosa Marie set her small white teeth firmly together and continued to hold the beads against her own plump neck.
"Sheknows whose beads they are," laughed Jean.
"I can't teach her a single Christian virtue," sighed Mrs. Crane. "There isn't one unselfish hair in that child's head."
"She's too young," encouraged Bettie. "All babies are little savages."
"Not Anne Halliday," said Jean, who fairly worshiped her small cousin.
"That's different," said Marjory. "Anne was born with manners."
"The little Tuckers weren't," soothed Bettie. "Rosa Marie will be generous enough in time."
"I wish I could believe it," sighed Mrs. Crane.
"Hi, hi! What's all this racket?" cried Mr. Black from the doorway. "Is Rosa Marie doing all that talking? Get your things on quick, all of you, and come for a ride with me."
"A ride!" exclaimed Mrs. Crane. "What in?"
"An automobile," returned Mr. Black, turning to wink comically at Bettie.
"An automobile!" echoed Mrs. Crane. "I'd like to know whose. There's only one in town and I don't know the owners."
"Yours," twinkled Mr. Black. "It's your birthday present."
"How did you know that this was the day?"
"Perhaps I remembered," said Mr. Black, smiling rather tenderly at his old sister. "Youusedto have them on this day."
"I do still," beamed Mrs. Crane. "That's why I invited the girls; they're my birthday party. But what's this about automobiles?"
"Only one. It's yours."
"Peter Black! I don't believe you."
"Look out the hall window."
Everybody rushed to the big window in the front hall. Sure enough! A splendid motor car stood at the gate.
"Peter," faltered Mrs. Crane, "have Igotto ride in that? I've never set foot in one, and I'm sure I'd be scared to at this late day."
"What! Not ride in your own automobile? Bless you, Sarah, in another week you'll refuse to stay out of it. Get yourthings on, everybody; and warm ones, too. Find extra wraps for these girls, Sarah. There's room for everybody but Rosa Marie."
"Now, isn't that just like a man?" said Mrs. Crane, looking about helplessly. "Whose clothes does he think you're going to wear for 'extra wraps'? His, or mine?"
Everybody laughed, for obviously Mr. Black's house was a poor one in which to find little girls' garments.
"We'll stop at your houses," said he, "and pick up some duds. Besides, perhaps your mothers might like to know that you've been kidnaped. What! no hat on yet? Here, pin this on," said Mr. Black, handing Mrs. Crane a pink dust-cap. "I can't wait all day."
"Mercy! That's not a bonnet," cried Mrs. Crane, scurrying away. "I'll be ready in two minutes."
"PETER," demanded Mrs. Crane, stopping short on the horse-block, "who's going to run that thing?"
"I am."
"Not with me in it. You don't know how."
"My dear, I've been learning the business for five weeks."
"Sothat'swhat has taken you to Bancroft every afternoon for all that time?"
"That's exactly what," admitted Mr. Black.
"And you'resure," queried Mrs. Crane, doubtfully, "that you understand all those fixings?"
"Every one of them."
"Will you promise to go slow?"
"There's a fine for exceeding the speed limit," twinkled Mr. Black.
"Well, I'm glad of that," said Mrs. Crane, permitting her patient brother to help her into the vehicle. "My! but these cushions are soft."
"Yes," said Bettie, "it's just like sitting on baking powder biscuits before they're baked."
"How do you know?" asked Mr. Black.
"Because I've tried it. You see, ministers' wives are dreadfully interrupted persons, and one night when Mother was making biscuits some visitors came. Instead of popping one of the pans into the oven, mother dropped it on a dining-room chair on her way to the door and forgot all about it. When I came in to supper that chair was at my place and I flopped right down on those biscuits! And I had tostaysitting on them because Father had asked one of the visitors—sucha particular-looking person—to stay to tea; and I knew thatMother wouldn't want a perfectly strange man to know about it."
"That was certainly thoughtful," smiled Mr. Black. "Now, is every one comfortable? If she is, we'll go for those extra wraps."
The new machine rolled down the street and turned the corner in the neatest way imaginable. Mrs. Crane looked decidedly uneasy at first; but when Mr. Black had successfully steered the birthday present past the ice wagon, a coal team, a prancing pony and two street cars, she folded the hands that had been nervously clutching the side of the car and leaned back with a relieved sigh.
But when Mabel asked a question, Mrs. Crane silenced her quickly.
"Don't talk to him," she implored. "There's no tellingwhatmight happen to us if he were to take any part of his mind off that—that helm, for even a single second. Don't evenlookat him."
What did happen was this. After the extra wraps had been collected and donned, Mr. Black carried his charges all the way to Bancroft, a distance of seventeen miles, in perfect safety. The road was good, the day was mild and the only team they passed obligingly turned in at its own gate before they reached it. They stopped in front of the biggest and best hotel in Bancroft.
"Everybody out for dinner," ordered Mr. Black.
"But, Peter," expostulated Mrs. Crane, hanging back, bashfully, "I'm in my every-day clothes."
"Well, this isn't Sunday; and you always look well dressed. You're a very neat woman, Sarah."
"Well Iamneat, but black alpaca isn't silk even if my sleevesarethis year's. And for goodness' sake, Peter, don't ask me to pronounce any of that bill of fare if it isn't plain every-day English, for you know there isn't a French fiber in my tongue. Youorder for me. There's only one thing I can't eat and that's parsnips."
It was a very nice dinner and plain English enough to suit even matter-of-fact Mrs. Crane. After the first few bashful moments, the four girls chattered so merrily that all the guests at other tables caught themselves listening and smiling sympathetically.
"I never ate a really truly hotel dinner before," confided Bettie, happily.
"And to think," sighed Jean, contentedly, "of doing it without knowing you were going to! That always makes things nicer."
"And Ineverexpected to ride in a navy-blue automobile," murmured Marjory.
"Or to have four kinds of potatoes," breathed Mabel, who sat half surrounded by empty dishes—"little birds' bath-tubs," she called them.
"You must be a vegetarian," smiled Mr. Black.
"N-no," denied Mabel. "Only a potatorian."
"Mabel!" objected Marjory. "There isn't any such word."
"Yes, there is," returned Mabel, calmly. "I just made it."
"Well, I'm sure," sighed Mrs. Crane, "I never expected to have any such birthday as this."
"You see," said Mr. Black, giving his sister's plump elbow a kindly squeeze, "this is a good many birthdays rolled into one."
"It seems hard," mourned Mabel, who was earnestly scanning the bill of fare, "to read about so many kinds of dessert when you've room enough left for only three. I wish I'd began saving space sooner."
"You're in luck," laughed Bettie. "A very small, thin one is allIcan manage—pineapple ice, I guess."
"Anyway," said Marjory, "I shan't choose bread pudding. We have that every Tuesday and Friday at home. AuntyJane has regular times for everything, so I always know just what's coming. I'm going to have something different—hot mince pie, I guess."
"Ice-cream," said Jean, "with hot chocolate sauce."
"Bringme," said Mabel, turning to the waiter, "hot mince pie, ice-cream with hot chocolate sauce and a pineapple ice with little cakes."
"Bring little cakes for everybody," added Mr. Black.
"I declare," said Mrs. Crane, "I don't know when I've been so hungry."
"Now," remarked Mr. Black, half an hour later, "I think we'd better be jogging along toward home because it won't be as warm when the sun goes down and I want to show you some of the sights in Bancroft—there's a pretty good candy shop a few blocks from here—before we start toward Lakeville. We can run down in about an hour."
"Peter," demanded Mrs. Crane, "whatisthat speed limit?"
"About eight miles an hour."
"Hum—and it's seventeen miles——"
"Now, Sarah, don't go to doing arithmetic—you know you were never very good at it. If I were to keep strictly within that limit you'd all want to get out and push. Got all your wraps? Whose muff is this? Here's a glove. Whose neck belongs to this pussy-cat thing? Here's a handkerchief and two more gloves—Well, well! It's a good thing you had somebody along to gather up your duds. What! My hat? Why, that's so, Ididhave a cap—here it is in my coat pocket."
There was still time after the pleasant ride home for a good frolic with Rosa Marie and a cozy meal with Mrs. Crane; strangely enough, everybody was again hungry enough to enjoy the big birthday cake and the good apple-sauce that went with it. Then Mr. Black carried them all home in themotor car and delivered each damsel at her own door. But only one stayed delivered, for the other three immediately ran around the block to meet at Jean's always popular home. You see, they had to talk it all over without the restraint of their host's presence.
"I think," said Mabel, ecstatically, "that Mr. Black is just too dear for words.Somefolks are too stingy to live, with their automobiles and horses and neverthinkof giving anybody a ride."
"He's certainly very generous," agreed Jean.
"Of course," ventured Marjory, meditatively, "he has plenty of money or he couldn't do nice things."
"He would anyway," declared Bettie. "It's the way he's made. Don't you remember how Mrs. Crane was always being good to people even when she was so dreadfully poor? Well, Mr. Black would be just like that, too, even if he hadn't a single dollar. He has a Santa Claus heart."
"Therearefolks," admitted Marjory, "that wouldn't know how to give anybody a good time if they had all the money in the world. There's Aunty Jane, for instance. She's averygood woman, with a terribly pricking conscience, and I know she'd like to make things pleasant for me if she knew how, but she doesn't, poor thing. She doesn't know a good time when she sees one. And Mrs. Howard Slater doesn't, either."
"Good-evening, girls," said Mrs. Mapes, coming in with a newspaper in her hand. "IthoughtI heard voices in here. Have you had a nice day? You're just in time to read the paper; there's something in it that will interest you."
IT seemed too bad for such a delightful day to end sorrowfully, but the evening paper certainly brought disquieting news. It stated that the School Board hoped to provide, within a very few days, suitable schoolrooms for all the pupils. And, in another item, the unfeeling editor complimented the Board on its enterprise.
"I'd like that Board a whole lot better," said Marjory, "if it weren't so enterprising. I s'posed we were going to have at least a month to play in."
"Just before Christmas, too," grumbled Mabel. "They might at least have waited until I'd finished Father's shoe-bag. And what do you think? Mother says I'd better give that Janitor a Christmas present!"
"Perhaps the paper is mistaken," soothedJean. "You know it always is about the weather reports. If it says 'Fair,' it's sure to rain; and when it says 'Colder,' it's quite certain to be warm. Besides, there isn't a place in town big enough for all that school."
But this time it was Jean and not the paper that was mistaken. In just a few days the School Board announced that its hopes were realized. It had found "suitable quarters" for all the classes. Two grades went into the basement of the Baptist Church. The underground portion of the Methodist edifice accommodated two more. The A. O. U. W. Hall opened its doors to three others. A benevolent private citizen took in the kindergarten. A downtown store hastily transformed itself from an unsuccessful harness shop into nearly as unsuccessful a haven for two other grades. The City Hall gave up its Council Chamber to the Seniors, and the Masons loaned their dining-room to the Juniors, without, however,providing any refreshment. The enterprising Board had telegraphed for desks the very day of the fire; and as soon as that dreadfully prompt furniture arrived, it was remorselessly screwed into place. The Stationer, too, had speedily ordered books. They, too, traveled with unseemly haste from New York to Lakeville. By Thursday, less than a week after the fire, there were desks and seats and books for everybody; and would you believe it, they even kept school on Saturday, that week!
And now, an utterly unforeseen thing happened. Hitherto Jean, who was usually the first to be ready, had stopped for Marjory and Bettie. All three had stopped to finish dressing Mabel, who always needed a great deal of assistance, and then all four had walked merrily to school together. But now this happy scheme was entirely ruined, for here was Jean doing algebra under the Baptist roof, Bettie struggling with grammar in the Methodist basement, Marjoryclimbing two long flights of stairs to the A. O. U. W. Hall and Mabel passing six saloons to reach her desk in the made-over harness shop.
"It isn't just what we'd choose," apologized the School Board, "but it won't last forever. We'll build just as soon as we can."
Except for the inconvenience of having to go to school separately the children were rather pleased with the novelty of moving into such unusual quarters as the Board had provided; but the mothers were not at all satisfied.
"That Baptist cellar is damp and Jean's throat is delicate," complained Mrs. Mapes. "I know she'll be sick half the winter; but of course she'll have to go to school there as long as there's no better place."
"That Methodist Church is no place for children," declared Mrs. Tucker. "Its brick walls were condemned seven years ago and it's likely to fall down at any moment,even if they did brace it up with iron bands. But Bettie's too far behind now for me to take her out of school, so I suppose she'll just have to risk having that church tumble in on her."
"It's a shame," sputtered Aunty Jane, "for Marjory to climb all those stairs twice a day. It's all very well for the Ancient Order of United Workmen to climb two flights with grown-up legs, but it isn't right for delicate girls. However, there's no help for it just now, and I can't say I blame the child for sliding down the banisters, though of course I do scold her for it."
"There are saloons on both sides of that harness shop," said Mrs. Bennett, "and six more this side of it, besides a livery stable that is always full of loafers and bad language. Mabel has never been allowed to go to that part of town alone, and now I have to send a maid with her twice a day. But of course she has to go, even if the maidismore timid than Mabel is."
"By next year," consoled the Board, "we'll have a bigger and better schoolhouse than the old one. In the meantime we must all have patience."
Except that Mabel, without the others to get her started, was always late and that Bettie, without Marjory to coach her on the way, found it difficult to learn her lessons, school life went on very much as usual, for matters soon settled down as things always do and Lakeville turned its attention to fresher problems.
Poor Bettie, indeed, was busier than ever because Miss Rossitor, the Domestic Science teacher, whose classes were temporarily housed in the Methodist kitchen, discovered that Bettie could draw. Every day or two she asked Bettie to remain after school to copy needed illustrations on the blackboard. One day, Miss Rossitor demanded a cow. She needed it, she explained, to show her class the different cuts of meat.
"A side view of a plain cow," said she.
"I think," said Bettie, reflectively nibbling the fresh stick of chalk, "that I could do the outside of that cow, but I know I couldn't get his veal cutlets in the proper spot."
"I'll give you a diagram," smiled Miss Rossitor, "for I see very plainly, that it wouldn't be safe not to."
"Perhaps Miss Bettie thinks," ventured a belated pupil, a pink-cheeked girl with an impertinent nose, "that one cow is a whole butcher shop."
"Well," returned Miss Rossitor, meaningly, "it isn't a great while since some other folks were of the same opinion. But, since you are now so very much wiser, you may label the parts after Bettie has drawn them."
The girl made such a comical face that Bettie's gravity was in sad danger, but she accepted the chalk. On the cow's shoulder she printed "Pork sausages," on the flank, "Mutton chops," on the backbone, "Oysterson the half-shell," on the breast, "buttons."
Bettie looked puzzled and doubtful but Miss Rossitor laughed outright.
"Henrietta Bedford," she said, "you're a complete humbug. If you don't settle down to business you won't get home to-night."
"I'm going to walk home with Bettie," returned Henrietta, quickly substituting the proper labels. "I can easily write out that luncheon menu while she's putting feathers on the cow's tail."
And the new girl did walk home with Bettie, and teased her so merrily all the long way that Bettie didn't know whether to like her or not.
Near the Cottage they met Jean, Marjory and Mabel just starting out to look for belated Bettie.
"This," said Bettie introducing her new acquaintance, "is Henrietta—Henrietta——"
"Plantagenet," assisted Henrietta Bedford, smoothly. "I am really a Duchess in disguise, but I've left all my retainers in Ohio and I'm simply dying for friends. This is my day for collecting them—I always collect friends on Tuesdays. You are indeed fortunate to have happened upon me on Tuesday. But, Elizabeth, why not finish your introductions?"
"This," obeyed overwhelmed Bettie, "is Jean, this is Marjory and this is Mabel Bennett."
"What! The Damsel of the Dust-chute! I am indeed honored."
Then, as her quick eye traveled over Mabel's plump figure, Henrietta added wickedly:
"Was that chute built to fit?"
Mabel flushed angrily.
"It is I," apologized Henrietta, "that should wear those blushes. Forgive me, dear Damsel. I have an over-quick tongue and all my speeches are followed by repentance.But I have a warm heart and I'm really much nicer than I sound. See, I kneel at your insulted feet."
Whereupon this ridiculous girl with the impertinent nose flopped down on her knees on the sidewalk and made such comically repentant faces that all four giggled merrily.
"Get up, you goose," laughed Mabel. "Your apology is accepted."
"Come along with us," urged Jean. "We're going to have hot chocolate at our house. Mother is trying to fatten Marjory, Bettie and me."
"She seems to succeed best with—hum—no personal remarks, please. Dear maiden, I will inspect your home from the outside, but I regret that I'm strictly forbidden to goinside any strange house without my grandmother's permission. You'll have to call on me first. She isveryparticular in such matters. But," added Henrietta, with a sudden twinkle, "I'm not. So, if you'll kindly rush in and make that chocolate,there's no earthly reason why I shouldn't stand just outside your gate and drink it."
"Oh," cried Bettie, "is it possible that you're Mrs. Howard Slater's new granddaughter?"
"I am," admitted Henrietta, "but I'm not so new as you seem to think. She has owned me for fourteen years. Now, hustle up that chocolate. I've just remembered that I'm to have a dress tried on at four. It is now half-past."
"BETTIE," asked Jean, when the girls were "hustling up" the chocolate in Mrs. Mapes' kitchen (the weather was now too cold for Dandelion Cottage to be habitable), "where did you find her?"
"At school," replied Bettie. "She comes in for Domestic Science. I've seen her about three times, and every time she's had that stiff Miss Rossitor laughing. You know who that girl is, don't you?"
"I've heard something," said Marjory, "but I can't just remember what, about some girl named Henrietta."
"Well, you've seen Mrs. Howard Slater?"
All the girls had seen Mrs. Slater, the beautifully gowned, decidedly aristocratic old lady with abundant but perfectly whitehair and bright, sparkling black eyes. Mrs. Slater, who seemed a very reserved and exclusive person, had spent many summers and even an occasional winter in her own handsome home in Lakeville. She lived alone except for a number of servants; for both her son and her daughter were married. The son lived abroad, no one knew just where; and some four years previously Mrs. Slater's daughter, who was Henrietta's mother, had died in Rome. Since that event Henrietta had been cared for by her uncle's wife; and she had spent a winter in California and another in Florida with her grandmother, but this was her first visit to Lakeville. It was said that Henrietta's mother had left her little daughter a very respectable fortune, that her father, an English traveler of note, was also wealthy, and it was known to a certainty that Mrs. Howard Slater was a moneyed person.
"Yes," said Marjory, replying to Bettie's question, "we sit behind Mrs. Slater inchurch, and she's the very daintiest old lady that ever lived. She's as slim and straight as any young girl. She's perfectly lovely to look at, but——"
"Yes, 'but,'" agreed Jean. "She seems very proud and not very—get-nearable. I don't know whether I'd like to live with her or not; but I know I'd feel terribly set up to own a few relatives thatlookedlike that."
"How do you like Henrietta?" asked Mabel.
"I don't know," said Bettie.
"Neither do I," replied Jean.
"It takes time," declared Marjory, "to discover whether you like a person or not. And when it's such a different person—truly, she isn't a bit like any other girl in this town—it takes longer."
"The chocolate's ready," announced Jean, opening a box of wafers. "Here, Bettie, you carry Henrietta's cup and I'll take these. Let'sallhave our chocolate on the sidewalk."
Henrietta, her hands in her pockets, was leaning against the fence and humming a tune. Her voice, in speaking, was very nicely modulated—which was fortunate, because she used it a great deal. She straightened up when the door opened.
"I'm an icicle," said she. "I hope that chocolate's good and hot. My! What a nice big cup! And wafers! I'm glad I stayed for your party. I've had chocolate in France, in Germany, in Italy, in Switzerland and in England, but I do believe this is the very first time I've had any in America."
"I'm sorry," said Jean, "that you have to have your first on the sidewalk."
"I shan't, next time," promised Henrietta. "I have a beautiful plan. I made it while waiting for the chocolate. You're all to come after school to-morrow and pay me a formal call. Then I'll return it. After that, I suspect I shall be allowed to run in. But first you'll have to call, formally."
"A formal call!" gasped Bettie.
"We never made a formal call in all our lives," objected Jean.
"They're dreadful," agreed Henrietta, "but in this case you'll really have to do it. I've planned it all nicely. In the first place, you must hand your cards to the butler——"
"Cards!" gasped Jean and Bettie.
"Cards!" snorted Mabel, flushing indignantly. "We haven't a card to our names!"
"Youmusthave them," declared Henrietta, firmly, "or Simmons may consider you suspicious characters. Simmons is a very lofty person. You can write some, you know, because Simmons holds his chin so high that it interferes with the view, so he'll never know what's on them. Then you must be very polite to Grandmother and say 'Yes, ma'am,' 'No, ma'am,' 'Thank you, ma'am'—and not very much else. You've seen Grandmother, of course? Then you know how very formal and stiff she looks. Well,youmust be like that, too."
"I'll try," said Mabel, "but it'll be pretty hard work."
"Be sure to wear gloves," cautioned Henrietta. "Grandmother is exceedingly particular about shoes and gloves. I know it's a lot of trouble, but you'll find it pays; for after you've beaten down the icy barrier that surrounds me, you'll find me quite a comfortable person. Anddocome just as early as you can—I'm really desperately lonely."
This was a different Henrietta from the merry one that Bettie had encountered. That other Henrietta had made her laugh. This one, with the wistful, sorrowful countenance and the four words "I'm really desperately lonely," was almost moving her to tears.
"You'll surely come," pleaded Henrietta.
"We'll come," promised Bettie, "cards and all."
"Au revoir," said Henrietta, carefully balancing her cup on the top rail of thefence. "I must run along now to try on my clothes."
"Was that French?" queried Mabel, gazing after the departing figure.
"I think so," replied Jean.
"She can certainly talk English fast enough," said Marjory. "I suppose just one languageisn'tenough for anybody that chatters like that."
"Do you think," asked Bettie, "she meant all that about cards and gloves and butlers? She's so full of fun most of the time that I don't exactly know whether to believe her or not."
"I think she did," said Marjory. "You see, I sit behind Mrs. Slater in church—and I'm thankful that it's behind."
"Perhaps that's the reason," ventured Bettie, "that nobody'll rent the three pews in front of her. Father says it's hard to even give them away. No one likes to sit in them."
"That's it," agreed Marjory. "Onewould have to be sure that her back hair was absolutely perfect to be at all comfortable in front of Mrs. Slater."
"And that," groaned discouraged Mabel, "is the sort of person I'm to make my first formal call on."
"You'd better take your bath to-night," advised Jean, "and lay out all your very best clothes. And don't forget to polish your shoes."
"Father has some blank cards," said Bettie, "and he writes beautifully. I'll get him to do cards for all of us."
"I think," said Marjory, with a puzzled air, "that we ought to take five or six apiece. I know Aunty Jane leaves a whole lot at one house, sometimes."
"No," corrected Jean, "we need just two. One for Mrs. Slater and one for Henrietta. My aunt, Mrs. Halliday, always gets two whenever her sister-in-law is visiting there."
"There are holes in my best gloves," mourned Bettie. "They came in a missionarybox, and missionary gloves are never very good even to start with. Besides, Dick wore them first—I never had anewpair of kid gloves."
"Never mind," said always generous Mabel. "I must have about six pairs and I've never had any of the things on. I know I've outgrown some of them. Your hands are lots smaller than mine. Come over and I'll fix you out—Mother said we'd have to give them to somebody and I guess you're just exactly the right somebody. I hate the thing myself."
"Goody!" rejoiced Bettie.
"I wish," said Jean, "that my shoes were newer, but I'll get the boys to black 'em."
"I can't helpyouout," laughed Mabel. "My shoes are short and fat and yours are long and slim."
"A coat of Wallace's blacking will be all that's needed, thank you, Mabel. There's nothing like having brothers when it comes to blacking shoes."
"We'll have to get up a little earlier to-morrow morning," said Marjory.
"Mercy!" exclaimed Jean, "are you leaving all those chocolate cups on the fence formeto carry in?"
"Of course not," said obliging Bettie, seizing two. "Come on, you lazy people."
THE four girls were wonderfully excited all the next day. They were restless in school and fidgety at home.
"A body would think," scoffed Aunty Jane, at noon, "that you were going to your own wedding. Don't worry so. I'll have everything ready for you to put on the moment you get out of school."
"Oh, thank you," breathed Marjory, fervently. "That'll help a lot; but I do hope that Bettie's father will remember to do those cards. And, Aunty Jane,couldyou lend me a perfectly inkless hankerchief?"
"Jumping January!" growled Wallace Mapes, Jean's older brother. "That makes nineteen times, Jean, that you've reminded me of those miserable shoes. I'll black them when I've finished lunch. I'm notgoing to rush off in the middle of my oyster soup to blackanybody's best shoes."
"Is it a reception?" asked Roger.
"No," replied Wallace, "just a formal call on Henrietta Bedford."
"She's in my French class," said Roger. "And kippered snakes! You ought to hear her recite. She talks up and down and all around poor little Miss McGinnis, whose French was made right here in Lakeville. It's a daily picnic."
"You won't forget my shoes, will you?" reminded anxious Jean.
"I'd like to know how Icould," demanded Wallace, feelingly.
Although Mabel had taken a most complete bath the night before, she spent the noon-hour taking another. She put on her best stockings and shoes, but looked doubtfully at her Sunday suit.
"If I have to do my language in ink," reflected she, "it'll be all up with my clothes. I'll just have to change after school."
The girls were out by half-past three. Fortunately, Miss Rossitor needed no more cows that afternoon, so Bettie was home in good season. All four dressed speedily. Three of them got into their gloves unassisted; but Jean, Marjory and Bettie found plump, impatient Mabel seated on the piano stool with her mother working over one hand, her perspiring father over the other. Several other gloves that had proved too small were scattered on the floor.
"You needn't think," said Mabel, greeting her friends with an expressive grimace, "thatIever picked out these lemon-colored frights. Somebody sent 'em for Christmas. None of the pretty ones were big enough—I've tried four pairs."
"Neither are these," returned Mrs. Bennett, "and the color certainly is outrageous, but it's Hobson's choice. And just remember, Mabel, if you touch a single door-knob they'll be black before you get there. And don't put your hands in your pockets.Andpleasedon't rub them along the fences. There! Mine's on as far as it will go."