Moreand more Shirley grew into the life of the school. Hope Holland was her most intimate friend, though her room-mate, Madge Whitney, continued to be a close chum.DulciePorter, Hope’s room-mate, was often with Shirley after the Christmas vacation, and Hope and Dulcie, it will be remembered, were of the famous Double Three. Caroline Scott, Betty Terhune, and later, more in class relations, Olive Mason and her chum, Barbara Sanford, were Shirley’s firm friends.
Though she was invited by both Hope and Caroline to Chicago for the spring vacation, Shirley accepted the urgent invitation of Madge and went with her to a quiet little town on the lake shore in Michigan, where she met Madge’s friends and had a real rest besides. This was due largely to Madge’s sensible mother.
Letters and cards came from Dr. and Mrs. Harcourt, but there was no reference to Shirley’s question. From different comments Shirley knew thatthey had not received that letter, though later news from her was acknowledged. They had been at that time upon an African expedition and had returned by a different route than that touching the point where they had ordered their mail to follow them. In consequence, the letter was received only just before their sailing for America, having followed them around as letters to travelers abroad sometimes do.
Hope, who had never cared much for clothes, blossomed out after the vacation with some particularly pretty and tasteful frocks, chiefly hung away, however, during the days of the uniform and the dinners when the old frocks would do as well. But the time of the spring Prom was appearing.
Mac Holland had instructed his sister to arrange that he should be with Shirley on that occasion and Hope had talked it over with Shirley. The result was that Dick was to be one of this foursome, as Mac called it, though Hope insisted that Shirley must introduce Dick to all the girls. Knowing Dick, Shirley consented to this, and hoped that it would turn out as it should.
When Shirley saw Sidney on her return, she was shocked at Sidney’s white, worn face. “What is the matter with Sidney Thorne?” she asked Hope.
“I don’t know. Mrs. Thorne is worried abouther, Mother says. She seemed to get sick all at once, but the doctor says that there is nothing the matter with her. She does not sleep very well and is nervous. The doctor gave her something, but Sidney says that she does not want any medicine. I think that Sidney has changed, too. It is odd.”
Shirley felt drawn toward the pale, quiet girl who came to classes, recited well, but without any enthusiasm. No one but Olive now would be a rival of Shirley’s for highest grades. These easily would be Shirley’s though her only motive for her hard study was to please her father by as high marks as possible, rivalry not concerning her at all.
But Sidney Thorne had during the vacation received a shock from which she had not been able to recover. Her pillow at home had received many bitter tears whose traces were carefully removed when necessary. But at night she usually cried herself into a sleep of exhaustion which left her merely pale in the mornings and brought much concern to Mr. and Mrs. Thorne. It would have been better if she had confided her grief to these dear people who loved her; but she could not bring herself to do it in the short time that she was at home. Uncomforted, therefore, she returned to school, struggling to readjust her thoughts, and stricken in heart.
The girls asked her what was the matter and the Double Three said that Sid didn’t “eat enough to keep a bird alive.” The most delicious fudge did not tempt her. Miss Gibson, “Gibby,” the hated, found Sidney one afternoon, strolling alone in the farther part of the grove under the pretence of looking for wild flowers. This was one of the times of rebellion, when it was all Sidney could do to keep back her tears. But Miss Gibson was purposely blind to the evidences of trouble and succeeded in interesting Sidney enough to forget herself. They sat down on one of the benches which faced the lake while Miss Gibson, talking away, told Sidney a little of her early struggles for an education. “But grit carries us through anything,” cheerily Miss Gibson closed her brief reference, “and I have such a wonderful opportunity here that I am very happy about it.” With that she left Sidney to her own reflections, waving to another of the teachers who was passing along not far away.
Sidney turned a little to watch Miss Gibson as she went away. She felt a new sympathy. Why, Gibby probablyneededthis position, and shewasa good teacher and knew what she was about. How awful if the girls drove her away! Well, weren’t things mixed up in this old world? She would do what she could to keep Gibby now! Strange that ittakes a touch of misfortune to teach us what others go through. Sidney had never known anything but having a home and protection. Helping the poor was one thing; but to Sidney the unfortunate were a world apart.
Grit. That was it. Thanks to Gibby for suggesting it. She had not quite gone to pieces anyway. Sidney had not realized how much of her life had been built upon what she knew now was not hers. Foundations were slipping from under her. Little thoughts of pride brought a realization that they had no root in fact. These were bitter days. But Sidney kept up her lessons automatically, glad of their thought-compelling frequency.
One Saturday the Double Three and some others had gone on a picnic. Sidney made the excuse of not feeling equal to the jaunt and remained in her room, glad to be alone. Shirley, as it happened, was alone, too, Madge had gone with the rest; but Shirley had work to do for Monday. She, too, had begun the day with a headache, but that had disappeared by noon and a box of delicious fruit had arrived from her aunt. It was not the fruit season, but Aunt Anne had found various things, among them some strawberries which had kept beautifully on the way.
Shirley hastened to prepare them, but they weretoo ripe to keep, for they had come from the South. She thought of the teachers, then of Sidney. Perhaps they would tempt Sidney’s flagging appetite. While she opened the package of confectioner’s sugar which her aunt had sent, she considered. Should she run the risk of disturbing Sidney? Well, why not? At the worst Sidney could only be inhospitable, and that would not hurt Shirley in any vital way.
With a tempting dish of the red berries sprinkled with the white sugar, Shirley swallowed her hesitation and rapidly walked through the halls to Sidney’s door. Lightly she rapped, thinking of the last time she had entered.
A faint voice said, “Come in.” Shirley opened the door, to see Sidney through the open door from the study. She was lying on her bed, but dressed.
“Oh, excuse me,” said Shirley. “Were you trying to sleep? I’ll run right away, but my aunt sent me some berries and I thought of you, for the girls say that you have spring fever, or something and have lost your appetite.”
Shirley made her voice as bright as possible, as she put the attractive dish of berries on the study table.
“Oh, isn’t that good of you!” said Sidney, in a tone of pleased surprise. She sat up, saying, “Waita minute. I don’t want to sleep,—and I have to make up for being so mean when you were here once before.”
Sidney had not expected to say that and Shirley showed her surprise for a moment. “Oh, there is nothing to make up,” she said. “Aren’t you a bit well, Sidney? Is there anything that I can do for you?”
“Nobody can do anything; but I’m really better, a little. I just didn’t want to go on a picnic. Oh, these are lovely! So many of the berries that we begin to get early are not ripe. But where are yours? Haven’t you any for yourself?”
“Oh, yes, plenty.”
“Do you mind going to get them, then? Come in to eat them with me. I have some delicious cookies that Edith had sent her from home. Shewouldgive me some, and I did not want them then.”
Shirley looked at Sidney to make sure that she really wanted her; she hurried back to bring a dish of berries for herself and another spoon. How odd this little lunch was, but how charming Sidney could be. No wonder that she had been influential in the school. They sat in the window seat together, while one by one the red berries disappeared, and the cookies took their place among the things that were. Sidney looked like a more sober and thinneredition of Shirley. “Wouldn’t a snap shot of us be funny?” she asked, a smile dawning with the thought. “Shirley,” she added more soberly, “do you suppose that we could be—closely—related?”
“I don’t know, Sidney, though I have thought of it, of course. What do your parents think, Sidney,—anything at all about it?”
“Nothing so far as they have said anything to me. But, Shirley, when I was home on the vacation I found—” Sidney stopped and bit her lips, while the tears came into her eyes. Shirley leaned over to take the dish from Sidney’s hand. With hers she deposited it on the table and returned to the seat beside Sidney. Sidney’s face was in her handkerchief for a moment, while she tried to recover herself. The girls had first talked about school matters, but now at last the veil was dropped between them.
“Let me tell you about it,” shakily said Sidney, wiping her eyes. “Daddy was away. He has been away a great deal lately on business. Mother wanted something out of Dad’s deposit box in the bank, something that he sent for, and as they had arranged long ago, I could be permitted to go to either box. So Mother sent me to the bank instead of going herself. I could not for the life of me find anythingmarked as he had written it was, though there was one envelope thatmightbe it.
“But I thought I ought to make sure, and there was one large white envelope that had nothing marked on the outside. I hesitated to break it, for it was sealed, but Dad was in a great hurry for his papers, so I tore open the envelope. And there, Shirley, was another envelope, marked,—” Sidney broke off and wiped her lips with her handkerchief.
“Oh, don’t tell me, Sidney, if it is so hard for you.”
“I want you to know, and I must tell somebody!”
Shirley waited. What dreadful thing was coming?
“The inside envelope was marked, ‘Papers regarding the Adoption of Sidney’!”
Sidney stopped, while Shirley, amazed, and yet relieved, said, “Oh, Sidney!”
“You can imagine how I felt. No, I don’t believe that you can either. Suppose you thought that you were your father’s and mother’s own child and then suddenly found that—well, you didn’t know who you were!”
Soberly Shirley nodded. “Didn’t you find out any more?” she asked.
“No. I would not open what I was not supposed to know about; I took the first package that I hadthought might be the right one and I went away as quickly as I could. I could scarcely believe what had happened, and I cried all night. Then I went down again to the bank with the key to my father’s box and some big white envelopes like the one I had broken open. I read again what was written on the inner envelope and I realized more than at first what it meant. Then I put it inoneof the envelopes most like the other and sealed it up again. I suppose that I should never have known! They must have meant never to tell me. Why, my great-aunt does not know I amsure, or she would never have talked about my being a Standish, and a Thorne, and all that stuff!” Sidney’s tone was bitter now.
“Even Mother used to join in, but Dad never did. I’ll say that for him. And poor Mother loves to deceive herself about anything that she wants to be so!” Sidney was more tender now, and Shirley recalled with some surprise how Mrs. Thorne had spoken as if Sidney’s ancestry were theirs, or, rather, theirs hers. “I can imagine how my dear, sentimental mother must have persuaded my father never to tell me.”
“And then I came along,” said Shirley thoughtfully.
“Yes, and I can see that my father has beenthinking about it. He has made several remarks to Mother that I remembered after I found the envelope. But your coming, Shirley, had nothing to do with my finding the facts.” Sidney was fair. Shirley was not to blame. “That was why he wanted to have a talk with you, I suppose, Shirley,” Sidney continued, “and Mother invited you there after I had gone on to school.”
Shirley reached over and took Sidney’s hand, looking at it. “Sidney, he asked all about my people, my father and mother, and I even told him all about my ancestry, for I have a great-aunt, too, that thinks a great deal of our family tree. Isn’t it queer? And I wrote to my mother, Sidney, to ask her if I were really her daughter, ‘by borning’ as my little sister that died used to say. I had a sister and a brother that died several years ago. It may be, Sidney, that we are sisters, twins, most likely and that neither of us belong to the families where we are.”
“Well, I’m sorry for you, Shirley, if that is so,” and Sidney’s hand tightened on Shirley’s. Then Sidney’s head went down on Shirley’s shoulder and her slight body shook with sobs. “Oh, I know that they did not mean to be cruel, Shirley,” she said as soon as she could control herself, “but it is soterriblyhard now.”
“I do know a little, Sidney,” whispered Shirley through the golden waves of Sidney’s pretty hair, “because of all the pangs I have when I think about it and wonder about myself.”
“Yes,” said Sidney, “and oh, Idowant so to belong to Father and Mother!”
“I wonder if it would not be best to tell them all about it,” Shirley suggested. “You will want to know how it all came about.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Sidney. “It depends on where I came from.”
“You are sure of this, that they do not want you to leave them and that you are legally their child. Isn’t that some consolation?”
“A little.”
“And they have known it all along and yet have loved you to pieces and been so proud of you and everything.”
Sidney brightened a little at this suggestion, but soon she sobered again. “There is one thing, though, Shirley, I’m going tobearit and never complain to either of them. I do know what they have done for me. I have thought of that, Shirley. But I have to wait a little. I can’t do it now. I am glad that I have told you and it will be good to see you occasionally. You will stand by, won’t you,and keep the other girls from knowing what is the matter?”
“Mercy yes!” Shirley gasped at the very idea of her telling any one.
“I always have liked you down in my heart, Shirley, though I just couldn’t stand it to have you look so like me.”
“I don’t blame you,” laughed Shirley. “I didn’t exactly relish it myself, but I thought that it would only be for a little while, and wouldn’t spoil the fun much.”
Sidney laughed with Shirley and then led her into her bedroom where she drew her before the mirror. “If twins ever looked more alike than that,” Sidney finally said, “then, as my friend Ran Roberts says, I’m a fishworm!”
“You are coming on, Sidney,” said Shirley. “Goodbye, Twin. If you get lonesome, come around. I’m studying, or shall be, but ever and anon I shall long for intermission.”