The year passed away uneventfully. Porter and Basil returned to their home for the holidays, but were back again in the autumn, Mrs. Phillips having concluded that it would again be necessary for her to spend the winter in California, as her sister’s health demanded it. There was, therefore, an unbroken circle in the Holmes family. It was Lisa’s last year at school, and she was looking forward to being graduated in June. It was a struggle with her to decide whether or not she should enter college another year. She was divided between her love of pleasure and her desire to do her parents honor by winning distinction in a collegiate course. Lisa had rather a good opinion of her ability, and fancied she could do or be almost anything with little effort on her part. There had been a long rivalry between herself and Margaret Green, and there was great conjecture among the school-girls as to which would be graduated with highest honors,—a question which would not be decided until the very last week of school.
“I shall be mortified to death,” Persis confessed to Basil, “if Lisa does not come out first. I have made such a talk about it. That’s just like me to talk too much, you know. I get excited and carried away, and the first thing I know I’m saying all sorts of things I’d better have left unsaid.”
“Speech is silver, but silence is golden,” replied Basil, who was one of the silent kind himself.
“I know that. I wish I could remember it. I hate to be wordy. I see the fault in others fast enough. Connie is a bit that way. There, I needn’t have said that!”
“You don’t see much of Connie these days.”
“No-o,” doubtfully; “I like Annis best. Grandma once said that the safest kind of a friend to have was one who helps us to do our best, and the unsafest,—that’s not exactly the word, but it will do,—the unsafest the one who doesn’t make it easy for you to do right. And yet, Basil, do you think we ought to keep away from those to whom we might do good?”
“That depends upon how strong we are. You know it would be a sort of a silly thing to do if I were to go with a fellow who was always knocking me down unexpectedly if I hadn’t muscle enough to give him back as good as he sent.”
“That’s so. I didn’t realize that it meant something like that.”
“One doesn’t like to be tumbled over in the mud with a broken head for no reason,” went on Basil, “and yet if we had to fight for honor’s sake it would be right enough to square off.”
“I understand. You’re a real good brother, Basil. How far off we are from our subject; we began with Lisa. I think I shall simply sink to the earth if Margaret comes out ahead.”
“No you won’t,” replied Basil; “or if you do, you’ll bob up serenely.”
Basil was tinkering at Persis’s wheel. He was always ready to do some kind little act for Persis, and they discussed moral and psychological subjects with great gravity while Basil was deftly using his tools and Persis was looking on appreciatively.
A few days after this conversation Persis entered her snuggery and saw hanging over the door the motto, “Silence is golden.” It was prettily framed, and the lettering was done in a most artistic manner. “That’s Basil’s work, I know,” thought the girl. “It’s just like him to do that. Now, Porter would have given me a copy of ‘Chatterbox’—that’s just the difference between them. No one but Basil and I will ever know just what it means; the rest will think it is intended as a hint to keep quiet while I am studying my lessons. It was awfully good of him to try to help me in such a nice way,” she thought, gratefully.
The fateful day arrived when Lisa would learn how she stood, and to her intense chagrin, as well as that of her sisters, it was announced that Margaret stood first. Miss Adams explained it by saying that Lisa’s theme displayed less originality than Margaret’s and her examination papers were more superficial.
For once Lisa was humbled. She was so used toreceiving praise for her brilliancy, so accustomed to having high marks for her glib recitations, that she could hardly reconcile herself to accepting the verdict, although inwardly she could but acknowledge it to be just. In spite of the disappointment, which gave her a feeling of tightness about the throat, her eyes shone like two stars and there was a red spot on each cheek as with head held high she hastened to be the first to offer Margaret her congratulations. One or two of Margaret’s special friends declared that Lisa’s graceful acknowledgment was done for effect, but that it was well done. Nevertheless, there was real bravery in Lisa’s act, and to herself and Miss Adams it represented a recognition of the justice of the decision. Especially did it seem so to Miss Adams, who saw tears in the dark eyes when she praised Lisa for having done so well as to win second honors.
Persis had never in her life loved Lisa more dearly than she did that day. She passionately declared that it was injustice, favoritism, or trickery, but Lisa stopped her with a gentle gesture. “It’s all right, Persis. Thank you for wanting to battle for me, but I can see where Margaret’s theme is far ahead of mine, and no doubt her examination papers are the same.” Then she stooped and kissed the disappointed little sister, making the girl feel a new admiration for Lisa in this tender mood.
“Anyhow there will not be one of the graduates—not one—so beautiful as you,” declared Persis, emphatically. And Lisa smiled, feeling quite sure that she could wear beauty’s palm if the other were denied her.
It was all this which decided the girl not to go to college. “I am too ambitious to go,” she declared to her parents. “I would want to be first, and I know I could not be. I have suddenly become aware of my limitations in an intellectual direction, and I know I could be a success in the social world.” And she drew herself up, with a glance of assurance toward her mirror.
“Do you think a purely social life would make you happy?” asked her father, rather disappointedly. He had been very proud of this handsome daughter, and had almost expected great things of her. “Mere excitement is not pleasure, nor does selfish amusement bring happiness. Think it over daughter,” he advised; “you need not decide just yet.”
“I am sure you have done well,” interposed Mrs. Holmes. “Don’t let this little disappointment persuade you to give up college. It certainly is no small thing to stand second in a class of ten girls.”
But Lisa shook her head. “None of the class have much brains except Margaret. I must be a leader,” she declared. “Don’t look so, papa. It isn’t very dreadful to say that, is it?”
“That depends entirely upon your motive,” replied her father, slowly. “If it is love of admiration, I am grieved; if it is because you feel your best powers can be put to their fullest use in a different direction, it is another thing. I do not want to think that one of my daughters would be willing to be a soulless butterfly.”
“I don’t know what it is,” returned Lisa, flushing alittle. “I haven’t analyzed it, so far. Now, mamma, what are the plans for the summer?”
“It is a puzzling question, dear, and much depends upon you,” replied her mother. “Mrs. Brown knows of a quiet, pleasant place on the bay shore, and your grandmother has quite decided to go there. It has the recommendation of being moderate in price, as well as being delightfully situated. Persis, of course, is only too ready to go. Mrs. Phillips, likewise, thinks she will join the party with the two boys, and, as Basil has determined to do some extra work this summer, that he may catch up with his class and be ready to take his examinations in the fall, your father has suggested that Mr. Danforth, one of the instructors at the college, shall go along to coach him. Mr. Danforth is anxious to make some such arrangement for the summer, and Persis is quite sure she will like to go ahead with her Latin under his tutelage. Your father must go elsewhere on account of his hay-fever, and I, of course, shall go with him. We feel that we can afford to take only one of you with us, so now, which shall it be, you or Mellicent?”
“Oh, mamma, I should be bored to death down there where the Browns want to go. Will there be other boarders?”
“I think our party, including the Browns and the Phillipses, will about fill the house, which suits the others perfectly.”
Lisa looked annoyed. “I don’t see why there should be any question of who should go with you,” she said; “only that the mountains agree with Mellicent muchbetter than the shore, and she is not very well this spring; she gives signs of inheriting that unpleasant hay-fever. Then, of course,—oh, mamma, why can’t I go somewhere with some of our friends?”
“Because it is not every one in whose care I would be willing to have you go, and you could probably not find any of our intimate friends going where there is as moderate board as that at Bellingly; and I should, moreover, have to provide you with a wardrobe more expensive than I can afford. You know this year we must not expect great help from grandma.”
Lisa looked very dissatisfied. “Everything comes in a lump,” she sighed. “I know I would be perfectly miserable down there.”
“The place has many attractions,” Mrs. Holmes continued, comfortingly. “There is delightful boating, fishing, and bathing; then the drives around are very pretty, and there will be no disagreeable persons in the house.”
“No; only old women and school-girls.”
“Pray, how long since you were a school-girl?” laughed Mrs. Holmes.
“I was eighteen last winter.”
“And Persis is scarcely two years younger.”
“Yes; but we always rub each other the wrong way, although, to do Perse justice, she is less aggressive as she grows older, and for the past week, since school closed, she has never been hateful once. I don’t see anything for me, mamma, but to go with grandma. I couldn’t be such a beast as to refuse when Melly would suffer by it.”
“You relieve my mind very much,” returned Mrs.Holmes. “There may be pleasant persons in the neighborhood, and you may have a better time than you expect. One does not always have the happiest time at a fashionable watering-place.”
This somewhat consoled Lisa, although she made her preparations for her summer outing in rather a half-hearted way.
Persis, on the contrary, was in great glee over the prospect. To have grandma and Annis, not to mention her “brother” Basil, was quite enough to insure her a happy time, she reflected.
“We can have no end of fun,” she said to Lisa. “I don’t see how you can feel so grumpy over it. In the first place, we don’t have to fuss over our clothes, and then we can live in the water if we like. I am crazy to learn to swim, and oh, Lisa, you can learn to ride my wheel; they say those shell roads are delightful. Then we can go cruising all around. Papa says Mr. Danforth is a splendid sailor.”
“I wish he, at least, didn’t have to go,” rejoined Lisa. “Who is he, anyway? Some didactic old Methuselah, I suppose.”
For once Persis kept a golden silence, but a smile of amusement passed over her face. “Such a joke!” she thought. “I’ll let her be surprised.”
And Lisa certainly was surprised a couple of weeks later, when all of the party excepting the tutor were comfortably settled at Bellingly, and the arrival of Mr. Danforth showed her a stalwart young fellow not over twenty-five, who had been a college student himself only a year before.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Persis?” demanded Lisa. “You said you had seen him.”
“I thought you’d enjoy the joke,” returned Persis, demurely. “He took Professor Hunter’s place the last half-year just to fill in while the professor was abroad. Basil says he is one of the best athletes in the college; that what he doesn’t know about sailing a boat and all that sort of thing isn’t worth knowing. Yet he doesn’t let himself get carried away by such matters; he is devoted to study, and is just a regular, nice, manly fellow, not a bit what is called a ladies’ man.”
“I’ve no doubt he is a prig,” decided Lisa. “I shall not bother myself to entertain him.”
“I don’t suppose he’ll be very miserable if you don’t,” retorted Persis, with some of her wonted fire.
Nevertheless, when Lisa encountered a pair of keen blue eyes regarding her across the table she was annoyed at finding herself disposed to wish the owner might be looking at her with favor, and in consequence avoided any appearance of giving a friendly notice to the young man. This, however, in no way disconcerted Mr. Danforth. He devoted himself specially to Mrs. Estabrook during his leisure time when he was not boating or riding or fishing with the boys. Two hours each morning were given to Basil and Persis, and the rest of the day a free-and-easy, homelike way of occupying himself seemed to be what he preferred.
“I just love to go out in the water,” Persis remarked one day, as with glowing face she dried herwet locks. “I wish you’d come, Lisa. Mr. Danforth is such a fine swimmer; he is just like a big sea-lion in the water; he is teaching Annis and me to swim, and I did ten strokes this morning. Maybe you’d like rowing better. I didn’t even catch a crab once yesterday; but, my! I am getting tanned.”
In her secret heart Lisa was sure she would like to know how to use the oars skilfully. She was a fine tennis player, and was equally devoted to golf. Such sports always attracted her, but she had made up her mind that Mr. Danforth ignored her rather too determinedly, and she was not going to make advances, she told herself. “I don’t like your Mr. Danforth,” she informed Persis.
“Well, you might treat him civilly,” returned Persis. “You sweep by him as if he were a small beetle on the floor, and when you say ‘good-morning’ the words sound as if they were wrapped up in a case of blue ice.”
“How absurd!”
“It’s so. Even Mrs. Brown noticed it.”
“Mrs. Brown!” contemptuously.
“You needn’t be so top-lofty. She’s as good as you are, and lots more amiable. There, Lisa, I didn’t mean to say that. I promised myself that if you came down here this summer I wouldn’t say one disagreeable thing. Come, go out in the boat with the rest of us to-morrow. You know the water is not deep enough to be unsafe if we don’t go out too far. Mr. Danforth is going to be busy all morning. He said so.”
To this Lisa graciously agreed, and the next morningwas laughing as merrily as any of them in their boat on the blue waters. But while they were all rocking and singing in great glee, Lisa making the most of Basil’s lessons in rowing, they saw another boat coming toward them.
“Hallo, Mr. Dan!” called Porter, catching sight of the occupant; “I thought you were boxed up till noon.”
“So I thought,” was the reply as the boat came alongside, “but the mail let me out of my work by bringing me a letter I did not expect, so I have a respite and couldn’t resist joining you. Here, Basil, you can take care of Miss Persis and Miss Annis. Porter and I will see that Miss Holmes overcomes her difficulty,” for Lisa was trying in vain to keep her oar from flying up in the air, while Basil was laughingly directing her. And before she could utter a word of remonstrance Mr. Danforth stepped aboard, steadying the two boats and handing Persis and Annis into the one he had just left, while Basil exchanged places with him.
“I am fairly caught,” thought Lisa. “I can’t swim, I can’t run away, so I’ll have to make the best of it.” And she amiably lent herself to her task, although finding a very critical and exacting teacher, who was not disposed to give praise or encouragement simply because she was a pretty girl, and she felt nettled by his lack of recognition. “I’m simply a person,” she told herself. “He acts as if I had no individuality. I don’t believe he knows whether I am old or young, good-looking or ugly. He is horrid!”
There was, however, nothing rude in Mr. Danforth’s manner; he simply avoided the little honeyed speeches and the obsequious attentions which Lisa liked, and she could but admit that he treated her quite as well as she did him.
“He is much nicer to grandma than he is to me,” Lisa told Persis. “He says the nicest little complimentary things to her, and he jumps up and joins her the minute he sees her coming, as if she were the only person in the place of any account.”
“He just loves grandma,” returned Persis. “He told Basil so.”
“Well, I am very glad,” Lisa averred. “It doesn’t concern me anyway. He never could be a leader of fashion like Ned Carew.”
“I wouldn’t call him a leader. I would call him just the opposite,” remarked Persis, her mouth dimpling.
“What would you call him, pray?”
“The off ass,” responded Persis, impudently.
“You are perfectly shocking,” pronounced Lisa, sailing out of the room and taking her place on the balcony where she could overlook the water.
“That was rather a shameless speech,” Persis admitted to herself. “I don’t believe I’ll ever learn to be careful of Lisa’s beautiful smooth feathers. I forgot that she considers Ned Carew one of her special admirers. How she can like such a flavorless, insipid creature I can’t imagine. He always reminds me of sugar and water. But I can’t lose that sunset, Lisa mad or Lisa not mad.” And Persis walked outon the balcony where her sister sat. “Come, let’s go down to the beach,” she said, in a conciliatory tone. “Don’t be mad, Lisa. I’ll borrow Annis’s wheel and we’ll take a little try at riding.” And Persis, bending to look at her sister, was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
“Why, Lisa, what is the matter?” she inquired, solicitously. “I didn’t hurt your feelings, did I? It never occurred to me that you were so very fond of Edwin Carew,” she added, in a half-puzzled way.
“Edwin Carew! I hate him!” cried Lisa. “I hate men anyhow, and I despise this place. I wish I could go home and stay by myself.”
“Why, you dear, homesick thing,” said Persis, caressingly. “Don’t feel lonely, sissy. Basil wants some one to ride with him. Take my wheel and go, won’t you? I’m sure it will cure your blues.”
But Lisa shook her head, and Persis decided to give up the ride to which she had been looking forward, and to devote herself to amusing her sister.