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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:05:01 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:05:01 -0700 |
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diff --git a/46059-h/46059-h.htm b/46059-h/46059-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bc8c2c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/46059-h/46059-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8790 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Adopting of Rosa Marie, by Carroll Watson Rankin. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + .maintitle {font-size: 200%; font-weight: bold; text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%; text-indent: 0;} + .author {font-size: 120%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + .authorof {font-size: 70%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; text-indent: 0;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +hr.chap {width: 65%} +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + + + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0;} /* page numbers */ + +.bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 30%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + +.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + +.right {text-align: right; text-indent: 0;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 90%; text-indent: 0;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/*Drop caps*/ +.drop-cap { + text-indent: 0em; + text-align: justify; +} +.drop-cap:first-letter +{ + float: left; + margin: 0.15em 0.1em 0em 0em; + font-size: 250%; + line-height:0.5em; +} +@media handheld +{ + .drop-cap:first-letter + { + float: none; + margin: 0; + font-size: 100%; + } +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 46059 ***</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 509px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="509" height="800" alt="cover" /> +</div> +<hr class="chap" /> + + + +<div class='bbox'> +<div class='maintitle'>THE ADOPTING +OF ROSA MARIE</div> + +<p class='center'> +<i>by</i><br /> +CARROLL WATSON RANKIN<br /> +<br /> +<i>Illustrated by</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">Florence Scovel Shinn</span><br /> +<br /> +<i>Frontispiece and jacket in full<br /> +color by</i> <span class="smcap">Miriam Selss</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p>In this charming girl's book we meet +again the four chums of <i>Dandelion +Cottage</i>. Their friendship knit closer +than ever by their summer at playing +house, the girls enlarge their activity +by mothering a pretty little Indian +baby.</p> + +<p>"Those who have read <i>Dandelion +Cottage</i> will need no urge to follow +further. . . . A lovable group of four +children, happily not perfect, but full +of girlish plans and pranks and a delightful +sense of humor."</p> + +<p class='right'> +—<i>Boston Transcript.</i><br /> +</p> + +<p>Just the type of book that every girl +<i>from eight to fifteen</i> enjoys.</p> +</div> +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 403px;"><a id="frontispiece"></a> +<img src="images/i006.jpg" width="403" height="600" alt="girl pointing at baby in grass" /> +<div class="caption">"MY SOUL, WHAT ARE YOU, ANYWAY?"</div> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p class='center'><b><span class='u'> Dandelion Series </span></b></p> + + +<h1>THE ADOPTING OF<br /> +ROSA MARIE</h1> + +<p class='center'>(<i>A Sequel to Dandelion Cottage</i>)<br /><br /> + +<br /> +BY<br /> + +<span class='author'>CARROLL WATSON RANKIN</span><br /> + +<span class='authorof'>Author of "Dandelion Cottage," "The Girls of<br /> +Gardenville," etc.</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<i>With Illustrations by</i><br /> +<small>FLORENCE SCOVEL SHINN</small><br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 112px;"> +<img src="images/emblem.jpg" width="112" height="139" alt="emblem" /> +</div> + +<p class='center'><br /><br /> +<small>NEW YORK</small><br /> +HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY<br /> +</p> +<hr class="chap" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> + + + + +<p class='copyright'> +COPYRIGHT, 1908,<br /> +BY<br /> +HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +COPYRIGHT, 1936,<br /> +BY<br /> +CARROLL WATSON RANKIN<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +PRINTED IN THE<br /> +UNITED STATES OF AMERICA<br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p class='center'> +TO<br /> +<br /> +EMILY, PHYLLIS, POLLY<br /> +AND SUZANNE<br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a><br /><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='2'><small>CHAPTER</small></td> +<td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">I. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Borrowed Babies</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">II. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Rosa Marie</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">III. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mabel's Day</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">IV. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">An Unusual Evening</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">V. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Returning Rosa Marie</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">VI. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Dark Secret</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">VII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Discovery</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">VIII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Fugitive Soldier</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">IX. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Surprise</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">X. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Breaking the News</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XI. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Alarm</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Fire</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Heroine's Come-Down</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIV. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Birthday Party</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XV. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">An Unexpected Treat</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVI. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Scattered School</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">An Invitation</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XVIII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Obeying Instructions</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XIX. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">With Henrietta</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_173">173</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XX. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Call Returned</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXI. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Getting Even</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Full Afternoon</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Taking a Walk</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIV. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Statue from India</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_226">226</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXV. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Comparing Notes</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXVI. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Christmas Eve</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXVII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Crowded Day</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXVIII. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Bettie-less Plan</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXIX. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Anxious Days</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="right">XXX. </td> +<td align="left"><span class="smcap">An April Harvest</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_286">286</a></td> +</tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>THE PERSONS OF THE STORY</h2> + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="cast"> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='2'><span class="smcap">Bettie Tucker</span>,</td> +<td align="left">aged 12:</td> +<td align="left" class='br bt'> </td> +<td align="left" rowspan='4'> The Cottagers</td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='2'><span class="smcap">Jeanie Mapes</span>,</td> +<td align="left">aged 14:</td> +<td align="left" class='br'> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='2'><span class="smcap">Marjory Vale</span>,</td> +<td align="left">aged 12:</td> +<td align="left" class='br'> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='2'><span class="smcap">Mabel Bennett</span>, </td> +<td align="left">aged 11:</td> +<td align="left" class='br bb'> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='6'><span class="smcap">Rosa Marie</span>: The Unreturnable Baby.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='6'><span class="smcap">The Mother of Rosa Marie.</span></td> +</tr> +</table></div> +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="cast"> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Anne Halliday</span>:</td> +<td align="left" class='br bt'> </td> +<td align="left" colspan='3' rowspan='3'> Borrowed Babies.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Marcotte Twins</span>:</td><td align="left" class='br'> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Little Tuckers</span>:</td><td align="left" class='br bb'> </td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='6'><span class="smcap">Henrietta Bedford</span>: The New Girl.</td> +</tr> +</table></div> +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="cast"> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Howard Slater</span>:</td> +<td align="left" class='br bt'> </td> +<td align="left" colspan='3' rowspan='3'> Of Henrietta's Household.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Simmons</span>:</td><td align="left" class='br bb'> </td> +</tr> +</table></div> +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="cast"> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='6'><span class="smcap">The Janitor</span>: An Unappreciated Hero.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='6'><span class="smcap">Dr. Tucker</span>: A Clergyman with More Children than Money.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='6'><span class="smcap">Dr. Bennett</span>: A Physician.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='6'><span class="smcap">Mr. Black</span>: A Friend to Children.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='6'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Crane</span>: His Sister.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='6'><span class="smcap">Aunty Jane</span>: Marjory's Sole Visible Relative.</td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='6'><span class="smcap">Some Mothers and Brothers.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan='6'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Malony</span>: The Light-hearted Egg-woman.</td> +</tr> +</table></div> +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a><br /><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">My soul, what are you, anyway</span></td> +<td align="right"><i><a href="#frontispiece">Frontispiece</a></i></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left"> </td> +<td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Rosa Marie and the sidewalk were one</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The sturdy fellow carried her out of the room</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The decidedly depressed four started down the street</span></td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr><td align="left">"<span class="smcap">Another 'eathen God from Hindia</span>"</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td> +</tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>THE ADOPTING OF ROSA +MARIE</h2> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<h2>CHAPTER I<br /> + +<small>Borrowed Babies</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>THE oldest inhabitant said that Lakeville +was experiencing an unusual fall. +He would probably have said the same thing +if the high-perched town had accidentally +tumbled off the bluff into the blue lake; but +in this instance, he referred merely to the +weather, which was certainly unusually mild +for autumn.</p> + +<p>It was not, however, the oldest, but four +of the youngest citizens that rejoiced most +in this unusual prolonging of summer; for +the continued warm weather made it possible +for those devoted friends, Jean Mapes, Marjory +Vale, Mabel Bennett and little Bettie +Tucker, to spend many a delightful hour in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +their precious Dandelion Cottage, the real, +tumble-down house that was now, after so +many narrow escapes, safely their very own. +Some day, to be sure, it would be torn down +to make room for a habitable dwelling, but +that unhappy day was still too remote to +cause any uneasiness.</p> + +<p>Of course, when very cold weather should +come, it would be necessary to close the beloved +Cottage, for there was no heating +plant, there were many large cracks over and +under the doors and around the windows; +and by lying very flat on the dining-room +floor and peering under the baseboards, one +could easily see what was happening in the +next yard. These, and other defects, would +surely make the little house uninhabitable in +winter; but while the unexpectedly extended +summer lasted, the Cottagers were rejoicing +over every pleasant moment of weather and +praying hard for other pleasant moments.</p> + +<p>Of all the games played in Dandelion Cottage, +the one called "Mother" was the most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +popular. To play it, it was necessary, first of +all, to divide the house into four equal parts. +As there were five rooms, this division might +seem to offer no light task; but, by first subtracting +the kitchen, it was possible to solve +this difficult mathematical problem to the +Cottagers' entire satisfaction.</p> + +<p>But of course one can't play "Mother" +without possessing a family. The Cottagers +solved this problem also. Bettie's home +could always be counted on to furnish at +least two decidedly genuine babies and Jean +could always borrow a perfectly delightful +little cousin named Anne Halliday; but Marjory +and Mabel, to their sorrow, were absolutely +destitute of infantile relatives. Mabel +was the chief sufferer. Sedate Marjory, +plausible of tongue, convincing in manner, +could easily accumulate a most attractive +family at very short notice by the simple expedient +of borrowing babies from the next +block; but nowhere within reasonable reach +was there a mother willing to intrust her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +precious offspring a second time to heedless +Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mabel," Mrs. Mercer would say, +when Mabel pleaded to have young Percival +for her very own for just one brief hour, +"I'd really like to oblige you, but it's getting +late in the season, you are not careful enough +about doors and windows and the last time +you borrowed Percival you brought him +home with a stiff neck that lasted three +days."</p> + +<p>"But I did remember to return him," +pleaded Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Do you sometimes forget?" queried +Mrs. Mercer, with interest.</p> + +<p>"I did twice," confessed always honest +Mabel; "but truly I don't see how <i>I</i> can help +it when babies sleep and sleep and sleep the +way those two did. You see, I made a bed +for Gerald Price on the lowest-down closet +shelf, and he was so perfectly comfortable +that he thought he was asleep for all night."</p> + +<p>"What about the other time?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That was Mollie Dixon. But then, I had +five children that day and only one bed. +Mollie slipped down in the crack at the back—she's +awfully thin—and I never missed +her until her mother came after her. That +was rather a bad time [Mabel sighed at the +recollection] for Mrs. Dixon found the Cottage +locked up for the night and poor little +Mollie crying under the bed."</p> + +<p>"Mabel! And you want to borrow my +precious Percival!"</p> + +<p>"But it couldn't happen <i>again</i>," protested +Mabel, earnestly. "Bettie says that +I'm just like lightning; I never strike twice +in the same place. That's the reason I get +into so many different kinds of scrapes. I'll +be ever so careful, though, if you'll let me +borrow Percival just this one time."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mercer, however, refused to part +with Percival. Other mothers, approached +by pleading Mabel, refused likewise to intrust +their babies to her enthusiastic but +heedless keeping. They knew her too well.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The thing for you to do," suggested +Marjory, ostentatiously washing the perfectly +clean faces of the four delightful +small persons that she had been able, without +any trouble at all, to borrow in Blaker Street, +"is to find a mother that really <i>wants</i> to get +rid of her children."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Bob Tucker, who had dropped +in to deliver the basket of apples that Mrs. +Crane had sent to her former neighbors, +"you ought to advertise for the kind of +mother that feeds her babies to crocodiles. +Perhaps some of them have emigrated to +this country and sort of miss the Ganges +River."</p> + +<p>"You might try the orphan asylum," offered +Jean, as balm for this wound. "It's +only four blocks from here."</p> + +<p>"I have," returned Mabel, dejectedly. +"I went there early this morning."</p> + +<p>"What happened?" demanded Bettie, +who had just arrived with a little Tucker +under each arm.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They said they'd let them go 'permanently +to responsible parties.' I didn't +know just exactly what that meant, so I +said: 'Does that mean that you'll lend me a +few for two hours?'"</p> + +<p>"And would they?"</p> + +<p>"Well, they didn't. They said I'd better +borrow a Teddy bear."</p> + +<p>"How mean," said sympathetic Bettie. +"Nevermind, I'll lend you Peter, this time."</p> + +<p>"Say," queried Mabel, after she had accepted +Bettie's proffered brother, "what +does 'permanently' mean?"</p> + +<p>"For keeps," explained Jean.</p> + +<p>"What are 'responsible parties'?"</p> + +<p>"Jean and Bettie and I," twinkled Marjory, +"but not you."</p> + +<p>"That's good," laughed Bob, who, like +Marjory, loved to tease. "But never mind, +Mabel. After you've practised a year or +two on Peter, who's a nuisance if there ever +was one, you'll find yourself growing +respons—— Whoop! What was that?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That" was a sudden crash that resounded +through the house. Everybody +rushed to the kitchen. The big dish-pan +that Mabel had left on the edge of the +kitchen table was upside down on the floor. +At least half of little Peter Tucker was under +it. But the half that remained outside was +so unmistakably alive that nobody felt very +seriously alarmed—except Peter.</p> + +<p>"Thank goodness!" said Mabel, removing +the pan, "this is just a little Tucker and +not any Percival Mercer! Cheer up, Peter. +You're not as wet as you think you are. +There wasn't more than a quart of water in +that pan and it was almost perfectly clean."</p> + +<p>And Peter, soothed by Mabel's reassuring +tone, immediately cheered up.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER II<br /> + +<small>Rosa Marie</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>NOT long after Mabel's ineffectual attempt +to borrow an orphan Mrs. +Bennett dispatched her small daughter to +Lake Street to find out, if possible, why Mrs. +Malony, the poultry woman, had failed to +send the week's supply of fresh eggs.</p> + +<p>Now, the way to Mrs. Malony's was most +interesting, particularly to a young person +of observing habits. There were houses on +only one side of the street and most of those +were tumbling down under the weight of +the sand that each rain carried down the +hillside. But the opposite side of the road +was even more attractive, for there one had +a grassy, shrubby bank where one could pick +all sorts of things off bushes and get burrs +in one's stockings; a narrow stretch of +pebbled beach where one could sometimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +find an agate, and a wide basin of very shallow +water where one could almost—but not +quite—step from stone to stone without +wetting one's feet. It was certainly an enjoyable +spot. The distance from Mabel's +home to Mrs. Malony's was very short—a +matter of perhaps five blocks. But if a body +went the longest way round, stopped to scour +the green bank for belated blackberries, +prickly hazelnuts, dazzling golden-rod or +rare four-leaved clovers; or loitered to +gather a dress-skirtful of stony treasures +from the glittering beach, going to Mrs. +Malony's meant a great deal more than a +five blocks' journey.</p> + +<p>Just a little beyond the poultry woman's +house, on the lake side of the straggling +street, a small, but decidedly attractive point +of land jutted waterward for perhaps two +hundred feet. On this projecting point +stood a small shanty or shack, built, as Mabel +described it later, mostly of knot-holes. She +meant, without knowing how to say it, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +the lumber in the hut was of the poorest +possible quality.</p> + +<p>On this long-to-be-remembered day, a +small object moving in the clearing that surrounded +the shack attracted Mabel's attention. +Curiosity led her closer to investigate.</p> + +<p>"It's just as I thought!" exclaimed +Mabel, peering rapturously through the +bushes. "It's a real baby!"</p> + +<p>Sure enough! It <i>was</i> a baby.</p> + +<p>Mabel edged closer, moving cautiously for +fear of frightening her unexpected find. +She saw a small toddler, aged somewhere +between two and three years, roving aimlessly +about the chip-strewn clearing. The +child's round cheeks, chubby wrists, bare feet +and sturdy legs were richly brown. A +straggling fringe of jet-black hair overhung +the stout baby's black, beadlike eyes.</p> + +<p>Near the doorway of the rickety shack a +man, half French, half Indian, stood talking +earnestly and with many gesticulations to +a dark-skinned woman, framed by the doorway.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +The woman had large black eyes, +shaded by very long black lashes. She wore +her rather coarse black hair in two long, +thick braids that hung in front of her straight +shoulders. In spite of her dark color, her +worn shoes, her ragged, untidy gown, she +seemed to Mabel an exceedingly pretty +woman. The man, too, was handsome, after +a bold, picturesque fashion; but the woman +was the more pleasing.</p> + +<p>Mabel approached timidly. She felt that +she was intruding.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning," said she, ingratiatingly. +"Is this your little boy?"</p> + +<p>"Him girl," returned the woman, with a +sudden flash of white teeth between parted +crimson lips. "Name Rosa Marie. Yes, +him <i>ma petite</i> daughtaire. You like the +looks on him, hey?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, so much," cried Mabel, impulsively. +"Oh, <i>would</i> you do me a favor?"</p> + +<p>"A favaire," repeated the woman, with a +puzzled glance. "W'at ees a favaire?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>would</i> you lend your baby to me? +Would you let me have her to play with +for—— Oh, for all day?"</p> + +<p>"Here?" queried the mother, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"No, not here. In my own home—up +there, on the hill. <i>Could</i> I keep her until +six o'clock? I just adore babies, and she's +so fat and cunning! Oh, please, <i>please</i>! +I'd be just awfully obliged."</p> + +<p>A look of understanding flashed suddenly +between the man and the woman; but Mabel, +stooping to make friends with little Rosa +Marie, did not observe it.</p> + +<p>"Your fodder 'ave nice house, plainty +food, plainty money?" queried the woman, +running a speculative eye over Mabel's plain +but substantial wardrobe.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," returned Mabel, thoughtlessly. +"And besides I have a playhouse. That is, +it isn't exactly mine, but I just about live in +it with three other girls, and that's where I +want to take Rosa Marie. I'll be awfully +careful of her if you'll only let me take her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +Oh, <i>do</i> you think she'll come with me? +Couldn't you <i>tell</i> her to?"</p> + +<p>The woman, bending to look into Rosa +Marie's black eyes, talked loudly and rapidly +in some foreign tongue. The mother's voice +was harsh, but her eyes, Mabel noticed, +seemed soft and tender, and much more +beautiful than Rosa Marie's.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the woman, turning to +Mabel and speaking in broken English, "eef +you want her, you must go at once. Go now, +I tell you. Go queek, queek! Pull hard eef +she ees drag behind. But go, I tell +you, <i>go</i>!"</p> + +<p>The voice rose to an unpleasant, almost +too stirring pitch that jarred suddenly on +Mabel's nerves; but, obeying these hasty instructions, +the little girl drew Rosa Marie +out of the inclosure, led her across the street +and lifted her to the sidewalk. Looking +back from the slight elevation, Mabel +noticed that the man was again talking +earnestly and gesticulating excitedly; while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +the woman, once more framed by the doorway, +followed, with her big black eyes, the +chubby figure of Rosa Marie.</p> + +<p>"I'll bring her back all safe and sound," +shouted Mabel, over her shoulder. "Don't +be afraid. Good-by, until six o'clock!"</p> + +<p>Escorting Rosa Marie to Dandelion Cottage +proved no light task. Her legs were +very short, it soon became evident that she +was not accustomed to using them for walking +purposes, the way was mostly uphill +and the little brown feet were bare. At first +Mabel led, coaxed and encouraged with the +utmost patience; but presently Rosa Marie +sat heavily on the sidewalk and refused to +rise. That is, she didn't <i>say</i> that she +wouldn't rise. She remained sitting with +such firmness of purpose that it seemed +hopeless to attempt to break her of the habit.</p> + +<p>Mabel walked round and round her firmly +seated charge in helpless despair. Rosa +Marie and the sidewalk were one.</p> + +<p>"Want any help?" asked a friendly voice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +It belonged to a large, freckled boy who was +carrying two pails of water from the lake +to one of the tumble-down houses.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 315px;"> +<img src="images/i034.jpg" width="315" height="500" alt="Toddler on sidewalk with girl trying to lift her" /> +<div class="caption">ROSA MARIE AND THE SIDEWALK WERE ONE.</div> +</div> + +<p>"Yes, I do," responded Mabel, promptly. +"If you could just lift this child high +enough for me to get hold of her I think I +could carry her."</p> + +<p>So the boy, setting his pails down, obligingly +lifted Rosa Marie's solid little person, +Mabel clasped the barrel-shaped body closely, +and, after a word of thanks to the kind boy, +proceeded homeward. But even now her +troubles were not ended. By silently refusing +to cuddle, Rosa Marie converted herself +into a most uncomfortable burden. Her entire +body was a silent protest against leaving +her home.</p> + +<p>"Do make yourself soft and bunchy," +pleaded Mabel, giving Rosa Marie sundry +pokes, calculated to make her double up like +a jack-knife. "Here, bend this way. <i>Haven't</i> +you any joints anywhere? Do hold tight +with your arms and legs. <i>This</i> way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +Pshaw! You're just like a stuffed crocodile. +Well, <i>walk</i> then, if you can't hang on like a +real child. There's one thing certain, you +shan't sit down again. I s'pose we'll get +there <i>sometime</i>."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER III<br /> + +<small>Mabel's Day</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>ALMOST hopeless as it seemed at times, +Mabel and the silent brown baby +finally reached Dandelion Cottage. There +they found Jean, seated in a chair with her +lovely little cousin Anne Halliday perched +like a pink and white blossom on the edge +of the dining table before her, tying Anne's +bewitching yellow curls with wide pink +ribbons. Anne was a perpetual delight, for, +besides being a picture during every moment +of the long day, her ways were so quaint +and so attractive that no one could help +admiring her.</p> + +<p>Marjory, her countenance carefully arranged +to depict the deepest sorrow, stood +guard over the Marcotte twins, who, touchingly +covered with nasturtiums, were laid out +on the parlor cozy corner, awaiting burial.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +Their blue eyes blinked and their pink toes +twitched; but, on the whole, they played +their parts in a most satisfactory manner.</p> + +<p>Bettie, with two small but attractive +Tucker babies clinging to her brief skirts, +was exclaiming: "These are my jewels," +when tired, dusty Mabel, pushing reluctant +Rosa Marie before her, walked in.</p> + +<p>"For mercy's sake, what's that!" gasped +Jean, sweeping Anne Halliday into her protecting +arms.</p> + +<p>"Is—is it something the cat dragged in?" +asked Marjory.</p> + +<p>"Is—<i>can</i> it be a <i>real</i> child?" demanded +Bettie.</p> + +<p>"This," announced Mabel, with dignity, +"is <i>my</i> child. Her name is Rosa Marie—with +all the distress on the <i>ee</i>."</p> + +<p>"The distress seems to be all over both +of you," giggled Marjory.</p> + +<p>"That's just dust," explained Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Did you both roll home like a pair of +barrels?" queried Jean, "or did the Village<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +Improvement folks use you to dust the sidewalks?"</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with that child's complexion?" +demanded Marjory. "Is she +tanned?"</p> + +<p>"Coming home took long enough for us +both to get tanned," returned Mabel, crossly, +"but Rosa Marie's French, I guess."</p> + +<p>"French! French nothing!" exclaimed +Marjory. "She's nothing but a little wild +Indian. Look at her hair. Look at her +small black eyes. Look at her high cheekbones. +Where in the world did you get +her?"</p> + +<p>Mabel explained. For once, the girls +listened with the most flattering attention. +Anne Halliday bobbed her pretty head to +punctuate each sentence, the Tucker babies +stood in silence with their mouths open, even +the nicely laid-out Marcotte twins on the +sofa sat up to hear the tale.</p> + +<p>"And she's all mine until six o'clock," +concluded Mabel, triumphantly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If she were mine," said Jean, "I'd give +her a bath."</p> + +<p>"I'd give her two," giggled Marjory.</p> + +<p>So Mabel, assisted by Jean, Marjory, +Bettie, little Anne, the two Tucker babies +and the now very much alive Marcotte twins +gave Rosa Marie a bath in the dish-pan. +Although they changed the water as fast as +they could heat more in the tea-kettle, +although they used a whole bar of strong +yellow soap, two teaspoonfuls of washing +powder and a <i>very</i> scratchy washcloth +lathered with Sapolio, Rosa Marie, who bore +it all with stolid patience, was still richly +brown from head to heels, when she emerged +from her bath.</p> + +<p>"Let's play Pocohontis!" cried Marjory, +seizing the feather duster. "Put feathers +in her hair and drape her in my brown petticoat. +I'll be Captain John Smith in Bob +Tucker's rubber boots."</p> + +<p>"You won't either," retorted Mabel, indignantly. +"I guess, after I dragged this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +child all the way up here to play 'Mother' +with, I'm not going to have her used for any +old Pocohontises. She's my child, and I'm +going to have the entire use of her while she +lasts."</p> + +<p>"After all," replied Marjory, cuttingly, +"I don't want her. I'm sure <i>I</i> wouldn't +care for any of <i>that</i> colored children. The +usual shade is quite good enough for me."</p> + +<p>But, while the novelty lasted and in spite +of Marjory's declaration, Rosa Marie was a +distinct success. Little Anne Halliday's +cunningest ways and quaintest speeches went +unheeded when Rosa Marie refused to wear +shoes and stockings. She had never worn +a shoe, and, without uttering a word, she +made it plain that she had no intention of +hampering her pudgy brown feet with the +cast-off footgear of the young Tuckers.</p> + +<p>Neither would she wear clothes, until Jean +showed her the solitary garment she had +arrived in, now soaking in a pan of soapy +water. After they had arrayed her in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +long-sleeved apron of Anne's—it didn't go +round, but had to be helped out with a +cheese-cloth duster—it was evident that the +unaccustomed whiteness bothered her. She +was not used to being so remarkably stiff +and clean.</p> + +<p>The Marcotte twins, again prepared for +burial, quarrelled most engagingly as to +which should be buried under the apple-tree, +both preferring that fruitful resting-place +to the barren waste under the snowball +bush; but nobody listened because Rosa +Marie was doing extraordinary things with +her bowl of bread and milk. Having +lapped the milk like a cat, she was deftly +chasing the crumbs round the bowl with a +greedy and experienced tongue. It was +plain that Rosa Marie had no table manners.</p> + +<p>As for the infantile Tuckers, they were +an old story. On this occasion they +crawled into the corner cupboard and went +to sleep and nobody missed them for a whole +hour, just because Rosa Marie was emitting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +queer little startled grunts every time Marjory's +best doll wailed "Mam-mah!" "Pap-pah!" +for her benefit. There was no doubt +about it, Rosa Marie was decidedly +amusing.</p> + +<p>The day passed swiftly; much too swiftly, +Mabel thought. Very much mothered +Rosa Marie, who had obligingly consumed +an amazing amount of milk—all, indeed, +that the Cottagers had been able to procure—started +homeward, towed by Mabel. That +elated young person had declined all offers +of company; she coveted the full glory of +returning Rosa Marie to her rightful guardian. +Mabel, indeed, was visibly swollen +with pride. She had given the Cottagers a +most unusual treat. She had not only surprised +them by proving that she <i>could</i> borrow +a baby, but had kept them amused and +entertained every moment of the day. It +had certainly been a red-letter day in the +annals of Dandelion Cottage.</p> + +<p>Mabel more than half expected to meet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +Rosa Marie's mother at the very first corner. +The other real mothers had always seemed +desirous—over desirous, Mabel thought—of +welcoming their home-coming babies back +to the fold; but the mother of Rosa Marie, +apparently, was of a less grudging disposition.</p> + +<p>Mabel laboriously escorted her reluctant +charge to the very door of the shanty without +encountering any welcoming parent. +The borrower of Rosa Marie knocked. No +one came. She tried the door. It was +locked.</p> + +<p>"How queer!" said Mabel. "Seems to +me I'd be on hand if I had an engagement at +exactly six o'clock. But then, I always <i>am</i> +late."</p> + +<p>Dragging an empty wooden box to the +side of the house, Mabel climbed to the high, +decidedly smudgy window and peered in.</p> + +<p>There was no one inside. There was no +fire in the battered stove. The doors of a +rough cupboard opposite the window stood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +open, disclosing the fact that the cupboard +was bare. There were no bedclothes in the +rough bunk that served for a bed; no dishes +on the table; no clothing hanging from the +hooks on the wall. Both inside and outside +the house wore a strangely deserted aspect. +It seemed to say: "Nobody lives here now, +nobody ever did live here, nobody ever will +live here."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER IV<br /> + +<small>An Unusual Evening</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>MABEL looked in dismay at Rosa +Marie.</p> + +<p>"Where do you s'pose your mother is?" +she demanded.</p> + +<p>It was useless, however, to question Rosa +Marie. That stolid young person was as +uncommunicative as what Marjory called +"the little stuffed Indians in the Washington +Museum." The Indians to whom Marjory +referred were made of wax. Rosa +Marie seemed more like a little wooden +Indian. The countenance of little Anne +Halliday changed with every moment; but +Rosa Marie's wore only one expression. +Perhaps it had only one to wear.</p> + +<p>"I say," said Mabel, gently shaking her +small brown charge by the shoulders, "where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +does your mother usually go when she isn't +home?"</p> + +<p>A surprised grunt was the only response.</p> + +<p>Rosa Marie, too suddenly released, sat +heavily on the ground, thoughtfully +scratched up the surface and filled her lap +with handfuls of loose, unattractive earth.</p> + +<p>"Goodness! What an untidy child!" +cried Mabel, snatching her up and shaking +her, although Rosa Marie's weight made her +youthful guardian stagger. "I wanted +your mother to see you clean, for once. +Here, sit on this stick of wood. I s'pose +we'll just have to wait and wait until somebody +comes. Well, <i>sit</i> in the sand if you +want to. I'm tired of picking you up."</p> + +<p>Rosa Marie's home was in rather an attractive +spot. The big, quiet lake was +smooth as glass, and every object along its +picturesque bank was mirrored faithfully in +the quiet depths. The western sky was +faintly tinged with red. Against it the +spires and tall roofs of the town stood out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +sharply; but at this quiet hour they seemed +very far away.</p> + +<p>Mabel, seated on the wooden box that she +had placed under the window, leaned back +against the house and clasped her hands +about her knees, while she gazed dreamily +at the picture and listened with enjoyment +to the faint lap of the quiet water on the +pebbled beach.</p> + +<p>Both Mabel and Rosa Marie had had a +busy day. Both had taken unusual exercise. +And now all the sights and sounds were +soothing, soothing.</p> + +<p>You can guess what happened. Both little +girls fell asleep. Rosa Marie, flat on her +stomach, pillowed her head on her chubby +arms. Mabel's head, drooping slowly forward, +grew heavier and heavier until finally +it touched her knees.</p> + +<p>An hour later, the sleepy head had grown +so very heavy that it pulled Mabel right off +the box and tumbled her over in a confused, +astonished heap on the ground.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My goodness!" gasped Mabel, still on +hands and knees. "Where am I, anyway? +Is this Saturday or Sunday? Why! It's all +dark. This—this isn't my room—why! +why! I'm outdoors! How did I get outdoors?"</p> + +<p>Mabel stood up, took a step forward, +stumbled over Rosa Marie and went down +on all-fours.</p> + +<p>"What's that!" gasped bewildered Mabel, +groping with her hands. She felt the rough +black head, the plump body, the round legs, +the bare feet of her sleeping charge. +Memory returned.</p> + +<p>"Why! It's Rosa Marie, and we're waiting +here by the lake for her mother. It—ugh! +It must be midnight!"</p> + +<p>But it wasn't. It was just exactly twenty +minutes after seven o'clock but, with the +autumn sun gone early to bed, it certainly +seemed very much later. The house was +still deserted.</p> + +<p>"I guess," said Mabel, feeling about in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +the dark for Rosa Marie's fat hand, "we'd +better go home—or some place. Come, +Rosa Marie, wake up. I'm going to take +you home with me. Oh, <i>please</i> wake up. +There's nobody here but us. It's way in the +middle of the night and there might be <i>any</i>thing +in those awfully black bushes."</p> + +<p>But Rosa Marie, deprived of her noontide +nap, slumbered on. Mabel shook her.</p> + +<p>"Do hurry," pleaded frightened Mabel. +"I don't like it here."</p> + +<p>It was anything but an easy task for Mabel +to drag the sleeping child to her feet, but she +did it. Rosa Marie, however, immediately +dropped to earth again. During the day she +had seemed stiff; but now, unfortunately, +she proved most distressingly limber. She +seemed, in fact, to possess more than the +usual number of joints, and discouraged +Mabel began to fear that each joint was reversible.</p> + +<p>"Goodness!" breathed Mabel, when Rosa +Marie's knees failed for the seventh time,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +"it seems wicked to shake you <i>very</i> hard, +but I've got to."</p> + +<p>Even with vigorous and prolonged shakings +it took time to get Rosa Marie firmly +established on her feet, and the children had +walked more than a block of the homeward +way before Rosa Marie opened one blinking +eye under the street lamp.</p> + +<p>If it had been difficult to make the uphill +journey in broad daylight with Rosa Marie +wide awake and moderately willing, it was +now a doubly difficult matter with that young +person half or three-quarters asleep and most +decidedly unwilling.</p> + +<p>"I wish to goodness," grumbled Mabel, +stumbling along in the dark, "that I'd borrowed +a real baby and not a heathen."</p> + +<p>The longest journey has an end. The +children reached Dandelion Cottage at last. +Mabel found the key, unlocked the door, +tumbled Rosa Marie, clothes and all, into the +middle of the spare-room bed; waited just +long enough to make certain that the Indian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +baby slept; then, reassured by gentle, half-breed +snores, Mabel, still supposing the time +to be midnight, ran home, climbed into her +own bed nearly an hour earlier than usual +and was soon sound asleep. Her mind was +too full of other matters to wonder why the +front door was unlocked at so late an hour.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bennett, dressing to go to a party, +heard her daughter come in.</p> + +<p>"How fortunate!" said she. "Now I +shan't have to go to Jean's and Marjory's +and Bettie's to hunt for Mabel. She must +be tired to-night—she doesn't often go to +bed so early."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER V<br /> + +<small>Returning Rosa Marie</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>EARLY the next morning, Jean, needing +her thimble to sew on a vitally necessary +button, ran to the supposedly empty cottage +to get it. Taking the short cut through +the Tuckers' back yard she found Bettie +feeding Billy, the seagull, one of Bob's +numerous pets.</p> + +<p>"Billy always wakes everybody up crying +for his breakfast," explained thoughtful little +Bettie. "Bob's spending a week at the +Ormsbees' camp, so I have to get up to feed +Billy so father can sleep."</p> + +<p>"Why don't the other boys do it?"</p> + +<p>"Mercy! <i>They'd</i> sleep through anything. +Going to the Cottage?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, come with me," returned Jean, +"while I get my thimble. It's so big that it +almost takes two to carry it."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All right," laughed Bettie, crawling +through the hole in the fence.</p> + +<p>Jean's thimble was a standing joke. A +stout and prudent godmother had bestowed +a very large one on the little girl so that Jean +would be in no danger of outgrowing the +gift. Jean was now living in hopes of sometime +growing big enough to fit the thimble.</p> + +<p>"Why!" exclaimed Jean, after a brief +search, "the key isn't under the doormat! +Where do you s'pose it's gone?"</p> + +<p>"Here it is in the door. But how in the +world did it get there? I locked that door +myself last night and tucked the key under +the mat. I <i>know</i> I did."</p> + +<p>"I saw you do it," corroborated Jean.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Marjory's inside."</p> + +<p>"It isn't Mabel, anyway. She's always +the last one up."</p> + +<p>"Mercy me!" cried Bettie, who had been +peeking into the different rooms to see if +Marjory were inside. "Come here, Jean. +Just look at this!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This" was brown little Rosa Marie sitting +up in the middle of the pink and white +spare-room bed, like, as Bettie put it, a brown +bee in the heart of a rose. Her small dark +countenance was absolutely expressionless, so +there was no way of discovering what <i>she</i> +thought about it all.</p> + +<p>"My sakes!" exclaimed Jean, with indignation, +"that lazy Mabel never took her +home, after all! Why! We'll have a whole +band of wild Indians coming to scalp us +right after breakfast! How <i>could</i> she have +been so careless. This is the worst she's +done yet."</p> + +<p>"But it's just like Mabel," said Bettie, +giving vent, for once, to her disapproval of +Mabel's thoughtlessness. "She likes things +ever so much at first. Then she simply forgets +that they ever existed."</p> + +<p>"Who forgets?" demanded Mabel, bouncing +in at the front door.</p> + +<p>"You," returned Jean and Bettie, with +one accusing voice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Prove it."</p> + +<p>"You forgot to take Rosa Marie home +last night."</p> + +<p>"I never did. I took her every inch of +the way home, stayed with her all alone in +the dark for pretty nearly a <i>year</i>, and then +had to bring her all the way back again, +walking in her sleep. So there, now!"</p> + +<p>"But why in the world didn't you leave +her with her own folks?"</p> + +<p>"Her horrid mother wasn't there. And +between 'em, I didn't get any supper and +only a little sleep."</p> + +<p>"But what are you going to do?" queried +astonished Jean.</p> + +<p>"After she drinks this quart of milk," explained +Mabel, "I'm going to take her home +again."</p> + +<p>"Where did you get so much milk?" +asked Bettie, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>Mabel colored furiously. "I begged it +from the milkman," she confessed. "That's +why I'm up so early. I've been sitting on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +our kitchen doorstep for two hours, waiting +for him to come."</p> + +<p>Mabel spent all that day industriously returning +Rosa Marie to a home that had +locked its doors against her. No pretty, +dark, French mother stood in the doorway. +No tall, dark man wandered about the yard. +No neighbor came from the tumbling houses +across the street to explain the woman's +puzzling absence.</p> + +<p>It proved a most tiresome day. Mabel +was not only mentally weary from trying to +solve the mystery, but physically tired also +from dragging Rosa Marie up and down the +hill between Dandelion Cottage and the +child's deserted home. The girls went with +her once, but, having satisfied their curiosity +as to Rosa Marie's abiding-place, turned +their attention to pleasanter tasks. Walking +with Rosa Marie was too much like +traveling with a snail. One such journey +was enough.</p> + +<p>Moreover, Mabel's pride had suffered. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +grinning boy, looking from plump Mabel's +ruddy countenance to fat Rosa Marie's expressionless +brown one, had asked wickedly:</p> + +<p>"Is that your sister? You look enough +alike to be twins."</p> + +<p>After that, Mabel feared that other persons +might mistake the small brown person +for a relative of hers, or, worse yet, mistake +her for an Indian.</p> + +<p>"Goodness me!" groaned Mabel, toiling +homeward from her second trip, "it was +hard enough to borrow a baby, but it's +enough sight worse getting rid of one afterwards. +There's one thing certain; I'll <i>never</i> +borrow another."</p> + +<p>Late in the day Mabel thought of +Mrs. Malony, the egg-woman. Perhaps she +would know what had become of Rosa +Marie's vanished mother. Dropping Rosa +Marie inside the gate, Mabel knocked at +Mrs. Malony's door.</p> + +<p>"The folks that lived in the shanty beyant?" +asked Mrs. Malony. "Sure, darlint,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +nobody's lived there for years and years save +gipsies and tramps and such like."</p> + +<p>"But day before yesterday—no, yesterday +morning—I saw a young Frenchwoman——"</p> + +<p>"A black-eyed gal wid two long braids +and wan small Injin? Sure, Oi know the +wan you mane. Her man, Injin Pete, died +a month ago, some two days after they come +to the shack."</p> + +<p>"But where is she now?" asked Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Lord love ye," returned Mrs. Malony, +"how wud Oi be after knowin'? She came +and she wint, like the rest av thim."</p> + +<p>"There was a man—not a gentleman and +not exactly a tramp—talking to her yesterday. +Perhaps you know where <i>he</i> is. I +couldn't find <i>anybody</i>."</p> + +<p>"Depind upon it," said Mrs. Malony, +easily, "she's gone wid him. She's Mrs. +Somebody Else by now, and good riddance +to the pair av thim."</p> + +<p>"But," objected Mabel, drawing the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +branches of a small shrub aside and disclosing +Rosa Marie sprawling on the ground behind +it, "she left her baby."</p> + +<p>"The Nation, she did!" gasped Mrs. +Malony, for once surprised out of her serenity. +"Wud ye think of thot, now!"</p> + +<p>"I've <i>been</i> thinking of it," returned +Mabel, miserably. "And I don't know what +in the world to do. You see, she left the +baby with <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p>"Take her home wid ye," advised Mrs. +Malony, hastily; so hastily that it looked as +if the Irishwoman feared that <i>she</i> might be +asked to mother Rosa Marie. "I'll kape an +eye on the shack for ye. If that good-for-nothin' +black-haired wan comes back, Oi'll +be up wid the news in two shakes of a dead +lamb's tail, so Oi will. In the mane toime, +be a mother to thot innocent babe yourself. +She needs wan if iver a choild did."</p> + +<p>"I've been that for two whole days now," +groaned Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Thot's right, thot's right," encouraged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +Mrs. Malony. "Ye were just cut out for +thot same. Good luck go wid ye."</p> + +<p>Rosa Marie spent a second night in the +spare room of Dandelion Cottage. She, at +least, seemed utterly indifferent as to her +fate.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER VI<br /> + +<small>The Dark Secret</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>THE four Cottagers sat in solemn conclave +round the dining-room table next +morning. Rosa Marie, flat on her stomach +on the floor, lapped milk like a cat and +licked the bowl afterwards; but now no one +paid the slightest attention.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Jean, removing her elbows +from the table, "that we'd better tell our +mothers and Aunty Jane all about it at once. +They'll know what to do."</p> + +<p>"So do I," said Marjory.</p> + +<p>"So do I," echoed Bettie.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> don't," protested Mabel, whose hitherto +serene countenance now showed signs of +great anxiety. "If you ever tell <i>anybody</i>, +I'll—I'll never speak to you again. This +joke—if it <i>is</i> a joke—is on <i>me</i>. I got into +this scrape and it's <i>my</i> scrape."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But," objected Jean, "we always do tell +our mothers everything. That's why they +trust us to play all by ourselves in Dandelion +Cottage."</p> + +<p>"Give me just a few days," pleaded +Mabel. "Perhaps that woman got kept +away by some accident. I'm sure Rosa +Marie's mother has mother feelings inside of +her, <i>some</i> place—I saw 'em in her face when +I was leading Rosa Marie away. I <i>know</i> +she'll come back. Until she does, I'll take +care of that poor deserted child myself."</p> + +<p>"It's a blessing she never cries, anyway," +observed Bettie. "If she were a howling +child I don't know <i>what</i> we'd do. As it is, +she's not <i>much</i> more trouble than a Teddy +bear."</p> + +<p>If Mrs. Mapes hadn't had a missionary +box in her cellar to pack for Reservation +Indians of assorted sizes and shapes with the +cast-off garments of all Lakeville; if Mrs. +Bennett had not been exceedingly busy with +a seamstress getting ready to go out of town<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +for an important visit; if Aunty Jane had +not been even busier trying to make green +tomato pickles out of ripe tomatoes; if Mrs. +Tucker had not been too anxious about the +throats of the youngest three Tuckers to give +heed to the doings of the larger members +of her family, these four good women would +surely have discovered that something unusual +was taking place under the Cottage +roof. As it was, not one of the mothers, +not even sharp Aunty Jane, discovered that +the Cottagers were borrowing an amazing +amount of milk from their respective refrigerators.</p> + +<p>The novelty worn off, Rosa Marie became +a heavy burden to at least three of the Cottagers' +tender consciences. Mabel's conscience +may have troubled her, but not enough +to be noticed by a pair of moderately +careless parents. Mabel, however, grew +more and more attached to Rosa Marie; the +others did not. To tell the truth, the borrowed +infant was not an attractive child.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +Many small Indians are decidedly pretty, +but Rosa Marie was not. Her small eyes +were too close together, her upper lip was +much too long for the rest of her countenance +and her large mouth turned sharply down +at the corners. But loyal Mabel was blind +to these defects. She saw only the babyish +roundness of Rosa Marie's body, the cunning +dimples in her elbows and the affectionate +gleam that sometimes showed in the +small black eyes. But then, it was always +Mabel who found beauty in the stray dogs +and cats that no one else would have on the +premises. During these trying days the +Cottagers <i>almost</i> quarreled.</p> + +<p>"That child is all cheeks," complained +Marjory, petulantly. "They positively hang +down. Do you suppose we're giving her too +much milk? She's disgustingly fat, and she +hasn't any figure."</p> + +<p>"She has altogether too much figure," declared +Jean, almost crossly. "I fastened +this little petticoat around what I <i>thought</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +was her waist and it slid right off. So +now I've got to make buttonholes. Such a +nuisance!"</p> + +<p>"Pity you can't use tacks and a hammer," +giggled Marjory.</p> + +<p>The clothing of Rosa Marie had presented +another distressing problem. She owned +absolutely nothing in the way of a wardrobe. +The single, unattractive garment she had +worn on her arrival had not survived the +girls' attempts to wash it. They had left it +boiling on the stove, the water had cooked +off and the faded gingham had cooked also.</p> + +<p>To make up for this accident, all four of +the Cottagers had contributed all they could +find of their own cast-off garments; but +these of course were much too large without +considerable making over.</p> + +<p>"If," said Jean, reproachfully, as she took +a large tuck in the grown-up stocking that +she was trying to re-model for Rosa Marie, +"you'd only let me tell my mother, she'd +give us every blessed thing we need. One<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +live little Indian in the hand ought to be +worth more to her than a whole dozen invisible +ones on a way-off Reservation; and +you know she's always doing things for +<i>them</i>."</p> + +<p>"Jeanie Mapes!" threatened Mabel, "if +you tell her, that's the very last breath I'll +ever speak to you."</p> + +<p>"I'll be good," sighed Jean, "but I just +hate <i>not</i> telling her. And this horrid stocking +is <i>still</i> too long."</p> + +<p>"Button it about her neck," giggled Marjory, +who flatly declined to do any sewing +for Rosa Marie. "That'll take up the slack +and save making her a shirt."</p> + +<p>"Don't bother about stockings," said Bettie, +fishing a round lump from her blouse. +"Here's a pair of old ones that I found in +the rag bag. One's black and the other's +tan; but they're exactly the right size and +that's <i>something</i>."</p> + +<p>"What's the use," demurred Marjory. +"She won't wear them."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If Rosa Marie were about eight shades +slimmer," said Jean, "I could easily get +some of Anne Halliday's dear little dresses—her +mother gave my mother a lot day before +yesterday for that Reservation box; but +goodness! You'd have to sew two of them +together sideways to get them around <i>that</i> +child."</p> + +<p>"She <i>is</i> awfully thick," admitted Mabel.</p> + +<p>Yet, after all, dressing Rosa Marie was +not exactly a hardship. Indeed, it is probable +that the difficulties that stood in the way +made the task only so much the more interesting; +then, of course, dressing a real +child was much more exciting than making +garments for a mere doll.</p> + +<p>Whenever the Cottagers spoke of Rosa +Marie outside the Cottage they referred to +her as the D. S. D. S. stood for "Dark +Secret." This seemed singularly appropriate, +for Rosa Marie was certainly dark and +quite as certainly a most tremendous secret—a +far larger and darker secret than the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +troubled girls cared to keep, but there seemed +to be no immediate way out of it.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, the stolid little "D. S." was +amiable to an astonishing degree. She never +cried. Also, she "stayed put." If Mabel +stood her in the corner she stayed there. If +she were tucked into bed, there she remained +until some one dragged her out. She spent +her days rolling contentedly about the Cottage +floor, her nights in deep, calm slumber. +Never was there a youngster with fewer +wants. Teaching Rosa Marie to talk furnished +the Cottagers with great amusement. +The round brown damsel very evidently preferred +grunts to words; but she was always +willing to grunt obligingly when Mabel or +the others insisted.</p> + +<p>"Say, 'This little pig went to market,'" +Mabel would prompt.</p> + +<p>"Eigh, ugh, ugh, ee, ee, <i>ee</i>, hee!" Rosa +Marie would grunt.</p> + +<p>Then, when everybody else laughed her +very hardest, Rosa Marie's grim little mouth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +would relax to show for an instant the row +of white teeth that Mabel scrubbed industriously +many times a day. This rare smile +made the borrowed baby almost attractive. +But not to Marjory. From the first, Marjory +regarded her with strong disapproval.</p> + +<p>Fortunately for Mabel's secret, little Anne +Halliday, the Marcotte twins and the two +Tucker babies were too small to tell tales out +of school, so in spite of sundry narrow +escapes, Rosa Marie remained as dark a +secret as one's heart could desire.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER VII<br /> + +<small>Discovery</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>SCHOOL began the first day of October—fortunately, +repairs to the building had +delayed the opening. And there was Rosa +Marie still on the Cottagers' hands, still a +dark and undivulged secret. In the meantime, +Mabel had paid many a visit to Mrs. +Malony, who for reasons of her own had +kept silence about the borrowed baby. +Probably she felt that Mrs. Bennett would +blame her for advising Mabel to harbor the +deserted child.</p> + +<p>"No, darlint," Mrs. Malony would say, +encouragingly. "Oi ain't exactly <i>seen</i> her, +but she'll be back prisintly, she'll be back +prisintly—Oh, most anny toime, now. Just +do be waitin' patient and you'll see me come +walkin' in most anny foine day wid yon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +blackhaired lass at me heels an' full to the +eyes of her wid gratichude. Anny day at +all, Miss Mabel."</p> + +<p>Buoyed by this hope, Mabel had waited +from day to day, hoping for speedy deliverance. +And now, school!</p> + +<p>"We'll just have to get excused for part +of each day," said Marjory, always good at +suggesting remedies. "Last year, all my +recitations came in the morning; perhaps +they will again. Then, if one of you others +could do all your reciting during the afternoon +we could manage it."</p> + +<p>The year previously Mabel had been +obliged to spend many a half-hour after +school, making up neglected lessons. Now, +however, she studied furiously. If she +failed frequently it was only because she +couldn't help making absurd blunders; it was +never for lack of study. In this one way, at +least, Rosa Marie proved beneficial.</p> + +<p>The united efforts of all four made it +possible for Rosa Marie to possess a more or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +less unwilling guardian for all but one hour +during the forenoon. It grieves one to confess +it, but Rosa Marie spent that solitary +hour securely strapped to the leg of the dining-room +table; but, stolid as ever, she did +not mind that.</p> + +<p>It was there that Aunty Jane discovered +her, the second week in October. Aunty +Jane had missed her best saucepan. Rightly +suspecting that Marjory had carried it off to +make fudge in, she hurried to the Cottage, +discovered the key under the door-mat, +opened the door and walked in.</p> + +<p>Rosa Marie was grunting. "Eigh, ugh, +ugh, ee, ee, <i>ee</i>, hee!" to her own bare +brown toes.</p> + +<p>"For mercy's sake! What's that?" +gasped Aunty Jane, with a terrified start. +"There's some sort of an animal in this +house."</p> + +<p>Arming herself with the broken umbrella +that stood in the mended umbrella jar in the +front hall, Aunty Jane peered cautiously into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +the dining-room. The "animal" turned its +head to blink with mild, expressionless curiosity +at Aunty Jane.</p> + +<p>"My soul!" ejaculated that good lady, +"what are you, anyway?"</p> + +<p>The pair blinked at each other for several +moments.</p> + +<p>"Are—are you a <i>baby</i>?" demanded +Aunty Jane.</p> + +<p>No response from Rosa Marie.</p> + +<p>"What," asked Aunty Jane, cautiously +drawing closer, "is your name?"</p> + +<p>Still no response.</p> + +<p>"Who tied you to that table?"</p> + +<p>Silence on Rosa Marie's part.</p> + +<p>"I'm going straight after Mrs. Mapes," +declared Aunty Jane, retreating backwards +in order to keep a watchful eye on the queer +object under the table. "I might have +known that those enterprising youngsters +would be up to <i>something</i>, if I gave my +whole mind to pickles."</p> + +<p>Excited Aunty Jane collected not only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +Mrs. Mapes, but Mrs. Tucker and Mrs. +Bennett, before she returned to the Cottage. +And then, the three mothers and Aunty Jane +sat on the floor beside Rosa Marie and asked +questions; useless questions, because Rosa +Marie licked the table-leg bashfully but +yielded no other reply.</p> + +<p>This lasted for nearly half an hour. And +then, school being out and the four Cottagers +discovering their front door wide open, Jean, +Bettie, Marjory and Mabel, all sorts of emotions +tugging at their hearts, rushed breathlessly +in. On beholding their mothers and +Aunty Jane, they, too, turned suddenly bashful +and leaned, speechless, against the Cottage +wall.</p> + +<p>"Whose child is that?" demanded all +four of the grown-ups, in concert.</p> + +<p>"Mine," replied Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Mabel's," responded the other three, +with disheartening promptness.</p> + +<p>"What!" gasped the parents and Aunty +Jane.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I borrowed her," explained Mabel, "so +she's <i>mostly</i> mine."</p> + +<p>"She's spending the day here, I suppose," +said Mrs. Mapes.</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," faltered Mabel. Marjory giggled, +and Mabel turned crimson.</p> + +<p>"I hope," said Mrs. Bennett, severely, +"that you're not thinking of keeping her all +night."</p> + +<p>"I—I—we—" faltered Mabel, "we—we +sort of did."</p> + +<p>"Well!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennett, not +knowing how very late she was, "I guess +we've come just in time. Mabel, put that +child's things on and take her home at once."</p> + +<p>"I can't," replied Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"She hasn't any home."</p> + +<p>"No home!"</p> + +<p>"No. It's—it's run away."</p> + +<p>"What! That baby?"</p> + +<p>"No," stammered Mabel, "that baby's +home. Not—not the house. Just her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +mother. She—she—Oh, she'll be back, +<i>some</i> day."</p> + +<p>"Mabel Bennett!" demanded Mrs. Bennett, +suspecting something of the truth, +"how long have you had that child here?"</p> + +<p>"Not—Oh, not so <i>very</i> long," evaded +Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Mabel," demanded her mother, "tell me, +instantly, exactly how long?"</p> + +<p>"About—yes, just about five weeks."</p> + +<p>"Five weeks!" gasped Mrs. Bennett.</p> + +<p>"Five <i>weeks</i>!" shrieked Mrs. Tucker.</p> + +<p>"Five weeks!" groaned Mrs. Mapes.</p> + +<p>"Fi—ve weeks!" cried Aunty Jane.</p> + +<p>"It'll be five to-morrow," said Bettie.</p> + +<p>"No, the day after," corrected Marjory.</p> + +<p>For the next few moments the mothers +and Aunty Jane were too astounded for +further speech. The girls, too, had nothing +to say. All four of the Cottagers kept their +eyes on the floor, for they knew precisely +what their elders were thinking.</p> + +<p>"Jean," began Mrs. Mapes, reproachfully.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I—I <i>wanted</i> to tell," stammered Jean.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't let her," defended Mabel, +looking up. "They <i>all</i> wanted to tell, but I +wouldn't let them. Truly, they did, Mrs. +Mapes."</p> + +<p>"But five whole weeks!" murmured Mrs. +Bennett. "I wonder that you were able to +keep the secret so long. Why! I've been +over here half a dozen times at least to ask +for my scissors and other things that Mabel +has carried off."</p> + +<p>"So have I," said Mrs. Mapes.</p> + +<p>"So have I," echoed Mrs. Tucker.</p> + +<p>"And so have I," added Aunty Jane, +"and I've never heard a sound from that remarkable +child."</p> + +<p>"You see," confessed Bettie, flushing +guiltily, "we kept the door locked. Whenever +we saw anybody coming we whisked +Rosa Marie into the spare-room closet."</p> + +<p>"If Rosa Marie had been an ordinary +child," explained Jean, "she would probably +have howled; but you see, every blessed thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +about us was so new and strange to her that +she just thought that everything we did was +all right. And anyhow, she doesn't have +the same sort of feelings that Anne Halliday +does. Anne would have cried."</p> + +<p>"You naughty, naughty children," +scolded Mrs. Mapes, "to keep a secret like +that for five whole weeks."</p> + +<p>"But, Mother," protested Jean, gently, +"we never supposed it was going to be a five-weeks-long +secret. We didn't <i>want</i> it to be. +We've been expecting her horrid mother to +turn up every single minute since Rosa +Marie came."</p> + +<p>"It was all my fault," declared loyal +Mabel. "<i>They'd</i> have told, the very first +minute, if it hadn't been for me. Blame me +for everything."</p> + +<p>"What," asked Mrs. Bennett, "do you +intend to do with that—that atrocious +child?"</p> + +<p>"She <i>isn't</i> atrocious!" blazed Mabel, +with sudden fire. "She's a perfect darling,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +when you get used to her, and I <i>love</i> her. +She isn't so very pretty, I know, but she's +just dear. She's good, and that—and that's—Why! +You've said, yourself, that it was +better to be good than beautiful."</p> + +<p>"But what do you intend to do with +her?" persisted Mrs. Bennett.</p> + +<p>"Keep her," said Mabel, firmly. "She +doesn't eat anything much but milk and +sample packages."</p> + +<p>"You can't. I won't have her in my +house. Why! Her parents are probably +dreadful people."</p> + +<p>"That's why she ought to have me for a +mother and you for a grandmother," pleaded +Mabel, earnestly. "But if you don't like +her, I'll keep her here."</p> + +<p>"But you can't, Mabel. It's so cold that +there ought to be a fire here this minute, and +you can't possibly leave a child alone with a +fire."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't <i>you</i> take her, Mrs. Mapes?" +pleaded Mabel.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, I'm afraid I couldn't. If she were +the least bit lovable——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she <i>is</i>——"</p> + +<p>"Not to me," returned Mrs. Mapes, +firmly.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't <i>you</i> take her, Mrs. Tucker?"</p> + +<p>"What! With all the family I have now? +I couldn't think of such a thing."</p> + +<p>"Then you," begged Mabel, turning to +Aunty Jane. "There's only you and Marjory +in that great big house. Oh, <i>do</i> take +her."</p> + +<p>"Mercy! I'd just as soon undertake to +board a live bear! Why! Nobody wants a +child of <i>that</i> sort around. She's as +homely——"</p> + +<p>"I'm extremely glad," said Mabel, with +much dignity and a great deal of emphasis, +"that <i>my</i> child doesn't understand grown-up +English."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said Mrs. Mapes, smiling +with sympathetic understanding, "we four +older people had better talk this matter over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +by ourselves. Suppose you walk home with +me.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> think," said Aunty Jane, forgetting all +about the saucepan that had led her to the +Cottage, "that the orphan asylum is the +place for that unspeakable child."</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Mrs. Bennett, "she'll certainly +have to go to the asylum."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII<br /> + +<small>The Fugitive Soldier</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>THE Cottage door closed behind the +three excited parents and Aunty Jane. +The four Cottagers, all decidedly pale and +subdued, looked at one another in silence. +It is one thing to confess a fault; it is quite +another to be ignominiously found out. +Jean and Bettie and Marjory were feeling +this very keenly; but Mabel was far more +troubled at the prospect of losing Rosa +Marie.</p> + +<p>"The orphan asylum!" breathed Bettie, +at length.</p> + +<p>"It's wicked," blazed Mabel, "to make an +orphan of a person that isn't."</p> + +<p>"I've heard," said Marjory, reflectively, +"that orphans have to eat fried liver."</p> + +<p>"Horrors!" gasped Mabel.</p> + +<p>"And codfish."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh <i>horrors</i>!" moaned Mabel, who detested +both liver and codfish.</p> + +<p>"And prunes," pursued teasing Marjory, +wickedly remembering Mabel's dislike for +that wholesome but insipid fruit. The +prunes proved entirely too much for Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Pup—pup—prunes!" she sobbed. "And +you stand there and don't do a thing to save +her! I guess if I were Eliza escaping with +my baby on cakes of ice——"</p> + +<p>"Rosa Marie's about the right color," +giggled Marjory, who could not resist so +fine an opportunity to tease excitable Mabel.</p> + +<p>"You'd all be glad enough to help, but +when it's just me——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, we'll help," soothed Jean, slipping +an arm about Mabel. "You know we +always do stand by you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we'll all help," promised Bettie, "if +you'll just tell us what to do. Only <i>please</i> +don't get us into any more trouble with our +mothers."</p> + +<p>"There's the cellar," suggested Mabel,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +doubtfully, yet with glimmerings of hope. +"I read a story once about a lady who sat +on a cellar door, knitting stockings."</p> + +<p>"Why in the world," demanded Marjory, +"did she sit on the door?"</p> + +<p>"Some soldiers were hunting for an +escaped prisoner and she had him hidden +there."</p> + +<p>"Was the cellar all horrid with old papers +and rats and mice and spiders and crawly +things with legs?" asked Bettie, with +interest.</p> + +<p>"I hope not," shuddered Mabel, "but a +soldier wouldn't mind. Dear me, I wish +we'd cleaned that cellar when we first came +into the Cottage. If we had, it'd be just the +place to hide Rosa Marie in."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it isn't too late, now," said +Marjory, stooping to loosen the ring in the +kitchen floor. "Let's look down there, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Let's," agreed Bettie. "It'll be something +to do, at least."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>Everybody helped with the door. When +it was open and propped against the kitchen +stove, the four girls crouched down to peer +into the depths below. Even Rosa Marie, +who had been released from the table-leg, +crept to the edge to look.</p> + +<p>They were not very deep depths. The +place was filled with rubbish, mostly old +papers and broken pasteboard boxes; but it +was perfectly dry, and clean except for a +thick layer of dust.</p> + +<p>"Let's clean it out," said Mabel, recklessly +grasping an armful of dusty papers +and dragging them forth.</p> + +<p>"Phew!" exclaimed Jean, tumbling back +from the hole. "Er—er—er hash!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, ki—<i>hash</i>! Hoo!" blubbered Bettie, +likewise tumbling backwards.</p> + +<p>"Who-is-she, who-is-she," sneezed Marjory.</p> + +<p>"Kerchoo, kerchoo, kerchoo!" sneezed +Rosa Marie, her head bobbing with each +sneeze. "Kerchoo, kerchoo!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's pepper," explained Mabel, when she +had finished <i>her</i> sneeze. "I spilled a lot of +it the day of Mr. Black's dinner party. I +didn't know what else to do with it, so I +swept it down that biggest crack."</p> + +<p>"Goodness! What a housekeeper!" rebuked +Jean, wiping her eyes.</p> + +<p>"It's good for moths," consoled Bettie. +"At any rate, Rosa Marie won't get moth-eaten."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," suggested Mabel, hopefully, +"it's driven away all the rats and crawly +things."</p> + +<p>Working more cautiously, the girls drew +forth the yellowed papers and pasteboard +left by some former untidy occupant of the +Cottage. They burned most of the rubbish +in the kitchen stove, Jean standing guard lest +burning pieces should escape to set fire to the +Cottage. The work of clearing the cellar, +indeed, was precisely what the girls needed, +after the humiliating events of the day. All +four were growing more cheerful; but they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +worked as swiftly as they dared, for they +felt certain that the cellar, as a place of concealment +for Rosa Marie, would be speedily +needed.</p> + +<p>The cellar proved to be a square hole +about three feet deep. When Mabel, who +for once was doing the lion's share of the +work, had swept the boarded floor and sides +perfectly clean, it was really a very tidy, inviting +little shelter; as neat a shelter as fugitive +soldier could desire.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Mabel, "we'll put a piece of +carpet and an old quilt in the bottom, tack +clean papers around the sides——"</p> + +<p>"Papers rattle," offered Marjory, sagely.</p> + +<p>"Then we'll use cloth," declared Mabel, +snatching an apron from the hook behind +the door. "We'll begin right away to +practise with Rosa Marie, so she'll get used +to it. Then we must rehearse our parts, +too."</p> + +<p>The retreat ready, Rosa Marie went without +a murmur into the underground babytender—Marjory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +gave it that name. Rosa +Marie, at least, would do her part successfully. +But it was different above ground.</p> + +<p>"Who," demanded Jean, "is to sit on the +door and knit? <i>I</i> couldn't—I'd fly to +pieces."</p> + +<p>"It's my child," said Mabel, "<i>I'm</i> going +to."</p> + +<p>"But," objected Marjory, "you <i>can't</i> +knit. You don't know how."</p> + +<p>"I can crochet," triumphed Mabel, "and +I guess that's every bit as good."</p> + +<p>"Where," asked Bettie, "is your crochet +hook?"</p> + +<p>But that, of course, was a question that +Mabel could not answer, because Mabel +never did know where any of her belongings +were. Thereupon, Jean, Marjory and +Mabel began a frantic search for the missing +article. Mabel had used it the week +previously; but could remember nothing +more about it.</p> + +<p>"Goodness!" groaned Mabel, groveling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +under the spare-room bed in hopes that the +hook might be there. "If I'd dreamed that +my child's life was going to depend on that +hook, I'd have kept it locked up in father's +fire-proof safe."</p> + +<p>"That's what you get," said Marjory, +with one eye glued to the top of a very tall +vase, "for being so careless. It isn't in +here, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Here's one," announced Bettie, scrambling +in hastily and locking the door behind +her. "I skipped home for it. But there's +no time to lose. All our mothers and Aunty +Jane are going out of Mrs. Mapes's gate +with their best hats and gloves on. There's +something doing!"</p> + +<p>In another moment, the cellar door was +closed, a rocking chair was placed upon it, +and Mabel, with ball of yarn and crochet +hook in hand, was nervously twitching in +the chair. Her fingers were stiff with dust—there +had been no time to wash them—so +the loop that she tied in the end of the white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +yarn was most decidedly black; but Mabel +was thankful to achieve a loop of any color, +with her whole body quivering with excitement +and suspense.</p> + +<p>"Goodness!" she quavered. "That +soldier lady was a wonder! Think of her +looking calm outside with her heart going +like a Dover egg-beater. Do—do <i>I</i> look +calm?"</p> + +<p>"Here," said Bettie, extending a basin of +warm water. "Soak your hands in this. +Warm water is said to be soothing."</p> + +<p>"Also cleansing," giggled Marjory.</p> + +<p>"Hurry!" gasped quick-eared Jean, +snatching the basin and hurling a towel in +Mabel's direction. "I heard our gate click. +There's somebody coming."</p> + +<p>"Don't let 'em in," breathed Mabel, +defiantly.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid," said Jean, "we'll have to."</p> + +<p>"Anyway," soothed Bettie, "we'll peek +first—there's the door-bell!"</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER IX<br /> + +<small>A Surprise</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>JEAN and Bettie flew to one window, +Marjory to the other. Mabel wanted to +fly, too, but she remained faithfully at her +post, feeling quite cheered by her own +heroism.</p> + +<p>"It's dark gray trousers with a crease in +'em; not skirts," announced Marjory, peering +under the edge of the shade.</p> + +<p>"Probably a man from the asylum," +shuddered Bettie. "Let's keep very still. +He may think that this is the wrong house +and go somewhere else."</p> + +<p>"But," objected Jean, "he'll only come +back again."</p> + +<p>"Yes," sighed Bettie. "I s'pose we will +have to open the door. You do it, Marjory."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to," returned Marjory, unexpectedly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +shrinking. "It seems too much +like giving Rosa Marie into the hands of the +enemy. After all, we're going to miss her +dreadfully and Mabel'll be just about broken-hearted. +She <i>does</i> get so attached to things—Oh! +He's ringing again."</p> + +<p>"We'll have to unlock the door," sighed +Jean, placing her hand on the key, "but +dearie me, I feel just as Marjory does about +it. Knit fast, Mabel."</p> + +<p>The key turned in the lock, but the girls +did not need to open the door; the visitor did +that. Then there were rapturous cries of +"Mr. Black! Mr. Black!"</p> + +<p>Mabel wanted to greet Mr. Black, too, for +there was nobody in the world that was +kinder to little girls than the stout gentleman +who had just opened their door; but +she remembered that the soldier lady (in +spite of the Dover egg-beater heart) had +remained seated, placidly knitting; so Mabel +likewise sat still and plied her crochet hook.</p> + +<p>"Hi, hi!" exclaimed Mr. Black. "What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +are you all locked in for? And here I had +to ring four times when I came with a +present—apples right off the top of my own +barrel. Began to be afraid I'd have to eat +them all myself, you were so long letting +me in."</p> + +<p>"If we'd guessed that it was you and +apples," said Marjory, "we'd have met you +at the gate."</p> + +<p>"Where's the other girl?" asked Mr. +Black's big, cheery voice. "Doesn't she +like apples, too?"</p> + +<p>"In the kitchen," chorused Jean, Marjory +and Bettie.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul!" said Mr. Black, striding +kitchenward, "here she is, knitting like +any old lady. Aren't you coming in here to +eat apples with the rest of us?"</p> + +<p>"Can't," mumbled Mabel.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, grandma?" teased +Mr. Black. "Rheumatism troubling you +to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Nope," returned Mabel.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Lost all your teeth?"</p> + +<p>"Nope."</p> + +<p>"Are you knitting me a pair of socks or +is it mittens?"</p> + +<p>"Just a chain," replied Mabel, suddenly +beaming. "But, Mr. Black, does it really +look as if I were knitting?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely," smiled Mr. Black. "So +much so that you remind me of the story of +the woman who sat on the trap door and +knitted—By Jove! That <i>is</i> a trap door! +Here's the ring sticking up."</p> + +<p>The girls shot a quick glance at the floor. +Then they gazed guiltily at one another. +Sure enough! The tell-tale ring stood upright, +ready for use. No one had thought +to conceal it.</p> + +<p>"Is there a wounded soldier down +there?" asked Mr. Black, jokingly.</p> + +<p>"No!" shouted all four with suspicious +haste.</p> + +<p>The deep silence that followed was suddenly +punctuated by a muffled sneeze from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +Rosa Marie. Undoubtedly, some of the +pepper dislodged from the crack in the floor +had sifted down to the prisoner.</p> + +<p>The faces of the four girls flushed guiltily. +Mr. Black looked wonderingly at the +little group. It was plain that something +was wrong. Jean, who had always met her +friend's glance with level, truthful eyes, was +now looking most sheepishly at her own +toes. Bettie, hitherto always ready to tell +the whole truth, was now fiddling evasively +with the corner of her apron. Marjory's +fair skin was crimson; her usually frank +blue eyes were intent on something under +the kitchen table.</p> + +<p>"Is there some sort of an animal in that +cellar?" demanded Mr. Black.</p> + +<p>Rosa Marie chose this moment to give +another large sneeze.</p> + +<p>"Is it something you're afraid of?" demanded +Mr. Black.</p> + +<p>"'Fraid of losing," mumbled Mabel, +shamefacedly. Poor Mabel realized only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +too well that she, with her knitting and her +too-perfect playing of the part, had given the +secret away; and she felt all the bitterness +of failure.</p> + +<p>Seizing the back of Mabel's chair, Mr. +Black drew it swiftly off the trap door. In +another moment, he had the door open.</p> + +<p>Rosa Marie, blinking at the sudden light, +bobbed upward. Mr. Black involuntarily +started back from the opening.</p> + +<p>"What under heavens is that!" he +gasped. "A monkey?"</p> + +<p>And, indeed, the error was a perfectly +natural one, for all he had been able to see +was a tousled head of hair, beneath which +gleamed small black eyes.</p> + +<p>"I should say not!" blazed Mabel. "It's +my little girl—my Rosa Marie."</p> + +<p>"Does she bite? Is she dangerous? Is +that why you treat her like potatoes?"</p> + +<p>"Most certainly not," returned Mabel, +with dignity. "She's an Indian."</p> + +<p>"Bless me!" said Mr. Black, leaning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +cautiously forward. "Let's have a look +at her."</p> + +<p>Now that the secret was out, everybody +eagerly clutched some portion of Rosa +Marie's clothing. She was drawn, with +some difficulty and sundry tearings of cloth, +from the "Soldier's Retreat." Mabel cuddled +the blinking small person in her lap.</p> + +<p>"Did you pick her up in the woods?" +asked Mr. Black, "or did you simply kidnap +her? Or, dreadful thought! Did you +order her by number from some catalogue? +And did they charge you full price?"</p> + +<p>Then Mabel, helped by the other three, +told all that they knew of the history of +Rosa Marie; and of Mabel's affection for +the queer brown baby. They told him +everything. Mabel, with visions of the +orphan asylum's doors yawning to engulf +precious Rosa Marie, considered it a very +sad story. She felt grieved and indignant +because Mr. Black, instead of sympathizing, +laughed until his sides shook. Even the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +pathetic diet of liver, codfish and prunes +seemed to amuse him.</p> + +<p>"What would you have said if your +mothers had asked you where this child +was?" inquired Mr. Black presently. "I +mean, when you had her down cellar?"</p> + +<p>Jean looked at Bettie, Bettie looked at +Marjory, Marjory looked at Mabel.</p> + +<p>"We never thought of that," confessed +Bettie.</p> + +<p>"Oh," groaned Mabel, holding Rosa +Marie closer, "our plan isn't any good after +all. We'd have to tell the truth if they +asked; we always do."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jean, "they'd get it out of us +at once."</p> + +<p>"Even," teased Marjory, shrewdly, "if +Mabel, sitting upon that trap door, were not +every bit as good as a printed sign."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," soothed Jean, slipping an +arm about Mabel's shoulders, "we'd rather +be honest than smart, since we can't be +both."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mabel needed soothing. She sat still and +made no sound; but large tears were rolling +down her cheeks and splashing on Rosa +Marie's black head. Mr. Black regarded +them thoughtfully. He noticed too that +Mabel's moderately white hand was closed +tightly over Rosa Marie's brown fingers. +It reminded him, some way, of his own +youthful agony over parting with a puppy +that he had not been allowed to keep—he +had always regretted that puppy.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the front door, propelled by +some unseen force, opened from without to +admit the three mothers and Aunty Jane, +followed closely by Mr. Tucker, Dr. Bennett +and two young women in nurses' uniform. +They crowded into the little parlor +and filled it to overflowing. None of the +Cottagers said a word; but Mabel, tears still +rolling down her cheeks, silently clasped +both arms tightly about Rosa Marie's body. +It began to look as if Rosa Marie would +have to be taken by force.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's all arranged," announced Mrs. Bennett, +breathlessly. "The asylum is willing +to take her and she is to go at once with +these young ladies. Come, Mabel, don't be +foolish. Take your arms away. You're +behaving very badly—There, there, I'll buy +you something."</p> + +<p>"You're just a little too late," said Mr. +Black, keeping watchful eyes on Mabel's +speaking countenance. "I've decided to +take the responsibility of Rosa Marie into +my own hands."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER X<br /> + +<small>Breaking the News</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>WHEN Mr. Black went home that afternoon +to explain the matter to his +good sister, Mrs. Crane, he took with him +not only Rosa Marie, but Jean, Marjory, +Bettie and Mabel, whose parents had given +them permission to escort the brown baby +to her new home.</p> + +<p>"You see," said he, while waiting for +Rosa Marie to be made somewhat more attractive, +"I want you to tell the story to +Mrs. Crane, precisely as you told it to me. +But don't mention <i>me</i> until you get to the +very end."</p> + +<p>With her hair brushed and braided and +her fat little body stuffed into a pink gingham +apron that the Cottagers had laboriously +cut down from a wrapper of Mrs. +Halliday's, Rosa Marie looked her best, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +spite of the fact that she wore no shoes and +stockings. She trotted contentedly at +Mabel's side; but Bettie, who was supposed +to be walking with Mr. Black, pranced delightedly +about him in circles, to show her +gratitude. Jean and Marjory followed more +sedately but with beaming countenances.</p> + +<p>Now that Mrs. Crane was no longer poor, +she was always dressed very neatly in black +silk. Except for that she was precisely the +same jolly, good-natured woman that she +had been when she lived alone in the little +house just across the street from Dandelion +Cottage. Now, however, she lived with her +brother, Mr. Black, in his big, imposing, but +rather gloomy house. She had no husband, +he had no wife and neither had any children. +Perhaps that is why they were both so fond +of the Dandelion Cottagers.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Crane was planting bulbs in the garden +when Mr. Black ushered his procession +in at the gate.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul!" said she, "here you are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +just in time to help. I always said that if +ever I got a chance to plant all the tulip +bulbs I wanted, I'd die of pure happiness; +but I guess I stand <i>more</i> chance of dying of +a broken back. My land! I've planted two +thousand three hundred and forty-eight of +the best-looking bulbs I ever laid eyes on, +and there ain't a hole in those boxes yet. +They're all named, too. Here's Rachel +Ruish, Rose Grisdelin, Rosy Mundi, Yellow +Prince, the Duke of York—think of having +<i>him</i> in your front yard—and Lady Grandison, +two inches apart, clear to the gate. But +land! I suppose a body's tongue'd go lame +counting <i>diamonds</i>."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you let Martin plant them?" +asked Mr. Black, with a twinkle in his eye. +It was plain that he enjoyed his talkative +elderly sister.</p> + +<p>"And have them all bloom in China?" +retorted Mrs. Crane. "Now you know, +Peter, that Martin couldn't get a bulb right +end up if there were printed directions on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +the skin of every bulb. But Jean there, and +Bettie——"</p> + +<p>"We'll do it," cried the girls. "Just tell +us how."</p> + +<p>"Two inches apart, pointed end up, all +the way along those little trenches," directed +Mrs. Crane, seating herself in the wheelbarrow. +"No, not <i>you</i>, Mabel. You and +Martin—Well, I won't <i>say</i> it. Why! +What's the matter with your face? Looks +to me as if you'd dusted the coal bin with +yourself and then cried about it. What's +the trouble?"</p> + +<p>Thereupon Mabel introduced Rosa Marie, +who had been shyly hiding behind a rosebush, +told her story and graphically described +the horrors of the orphan asylum.</p> + +<p>"While I don't believe that any orphan +asylum is as black as you've painted that +one," said Mrs. Crane, "it does seem a pity +to shut a little outdoor animal like that up +in a cage when she ain't used to it. Now, +Peter, you listen to me. Why couldn't <i>we</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +keep Rosa Marie here for a time. Like +enough, her mother'll be back after her most +any day. In the meantime, she'd be more +company than a cat and easier to wash than +a poodle."</p> + +<p>"Well now, I don't know," returned Mr. +Black, winking at Mabel. "A child is a +great deal of trouble."</p> + +<p>"Shame on you, Peter Black. It's only +yesterday that you bought a wretched old +horse to keep his owner from ill-treating +him; and here you are refusing——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not exactly refusing——"</p> + +<p>"Begrudging, anyway, to rescue that innocent +lamb——"</p> + +<p>"She means black sheep," whispered +Marjory, into Jean's convenient ear.</p> + +<p>"From that institution. Peter Black! +I'm just going to keep that child, anyway."</p> + +<p>At this, all five laughed merrily. Rosa +Marie, cheered by the sound, reached +gravely into a paper bag, gravely handed +each person a tulip bulb and appropriated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +one herself. She took a generous bite out +of hers.</p> + +<p>"We'll plant 'em in a ring around that +snowball bush," said Mrs. Crane, rescuing +the bitten bulb, bite and all. "That shall be +Rosa Marie's own flower bed."</p> + +<p>"There's a nursery on the second floor," +said Mr. Black. "You girls must help us +fix it up. And, Mabel, perhaps <i>you</i> would +like to spend this money for some toys that +would just exactly suit Rosa Marie."</p> + +<p>Mabel beamed gratefully as she accepted +the money and the responsibility. Never +before had any one singled her out to perform +a task that required discretion. It was +always Jean, or Bettie, or sometimes even +Marjory that was chosen. Never before +had greatness been thrust upon Mabel. She +lavished grateful, affectionate glances on +Mr. Black and inwardly determined to save +part of the cash with which to buy him a +Christmas present, not realizing that that +would be a misappropriation of funds.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mabel, however, felt a pang of jealousy +when Rosa Marie, digging contentedly in +the sand at Mrs. Crane's feet, allowed her +former guardian to depart absolutely unnoticed.</p> + +<p>"I <i>did</i> think," confided Mabel to Bettie, +who walked beside her, "that she'd at least +<i>look</i> as if she cared."</p> + +<p>That night the mothers made peace with +their daughters, and Aunty Jane extended a +flag of truce to Marjory.</p> + +<p>"It was all for your own good," explained +Mrs. Bennett, her arm about Mabel, who +was missing the pleasant task of putting +Rosa Marie to bed. "I couldn't let you +grow up with a little Indian continually at +your heels. You'd have grown tired of her, +too. And by keeping silence so long, you +did a great deal of harm. If we'd known +about the matter at once, we might have been +able to find her mother. Now it's too late."</p> + +<p>"I never thought of that," said Mabel, +contritely. "I'll tell right away, next time."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mabel! There mustn't <i>be</i> a next time. +Promise me this instant that you'll never +borrow another baby unless you know +that its mother really wants to keep it. +Promise."</p> + +<p>"All right, I promise," said Mabel, +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"But I <i>can't</i> think," remarked Mrs. Bennett, +"what possessed Mr. Black to be so +foolish as to take such a child into his own +home."</p> + +<p>There were other persons that wondered, +too, why Mr. Black should burden his household +with the care of what Martin, his man, +called an uncivilized savage; but the truth +of the matter was just this. The large +silent tears rolling down Mabel's forlorn +countenance had suddenly proved too much +for the tender heart of Mr. Black. In some +ways, perhaps, impulsive Mr. Black was not +a wise man; but, where children were concerned, +there was no doubt of his being an +exceedingly tender person.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XI<br /> + +<small>The Alarm</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>NOW that the burden of caring for Rosa +Marie was shifted to older and more +competent shoulders, the Cottagers' thoughts +returned to their school-work. It was time. +Never had lessons been so neglected. Never +before had four moderately intelligent little +girls seemed so stupid. But of course +with their minds filled with Rosa Marie, it +had been impossible to keep the rivers of +South America from lightmindedly running +over into Asia, or the products of British +Columbia from being exported from +Calcutta.</p> + +<p>These fortunate girls attended a beautiful +school. That is, the building was beautiful. +It stood right in the middle of a great big +grassy block, entirely surrounded, as Bettie +put it, by street, which of course added<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +greatly to its dignity. It was built of "raindrop" +sandstone, a most interesting building +material because no two blocks were +alike and also because each stone looked as +if it had just been sprinkled with big, spattering +drops of rain. It was hard when +looking at it to believe that it wasn't raining, +and certain naughty youngsters delighted +in fooling new teachers by pointing +out the deceiving drops that flecked the +balustrade. Perhaps even the grass was +fooled by this semblance to showers for, in +summer time, it grew so thriftily that no +one had to be warned to "Keep off," so a +great many little people frolicked in the +schoolyard even during vacation.</p> + +<p>Of course the Dandelion Cottagers were +not in the same classes in school. Jean, +being the oldest, the most sedate and the +most studious, was almost through the +eighth grade. Marjory, being naturally +very bright and also moderately industrious, +was in the seventh. Mabel and Bettie were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +not exactly anywhere. You see, Bettie had +had to stay out so often to keep the next to +the youngest Tucker baby from falling +downstairs, that naturally she had dropped +behind all the classes that she had ever +started with; and Mabel—of course Mabel +<i>meant</i> well, but when she studied at all it +was usually the lesson for some other day; +for this blundering maiden never <i>could</i> remember +which was the right page. But one +day she happened by some lucky accident to +stumble upon the right one, and on that +solitary occasion she recited so very brilliantly +that Miss Bonner and all the pupils +dropped their books to listen in astonishment, +and Mabel was marked one hundred.</p> + +<p>But in spite of this high mark in good +black ink (if one stood less than seventy-five +red ink was employed) the thing did not +happen again that fall because Mabel was +too busy bringing up Rosa Marie to study +even the wrong lesson. However, she was +exceedingly fond of pretty Miss Bonner and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +having learned the exact date of that young +woman's birthday, hoped to appease her by +a gift to be paid for by contributions from +all the pupils in Miss Bonner's room. Mabel +herself received and cared for the slowly accumulating +funds, and the little brown purse +was becoming almost as weighty a responsibility +as Rosa Marie had been. Sometimes +it rested in Mabel's untrustworthy pocket, +sometimes in her rather untidy desk, sometimes +under her pillow in her own room at +home. One day Mrs. Bennett found it +there.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mabel!" she exclaimed. "Where +did all this money come from? I know <i>you</i> +don't possess any."</p> + +<p>"It's the M. B. B. P. F.," responded +Mabel, who was brushing her hair with +evident enjoyment and two very handsome +military brushes. "I guess I'd better put +it in my pocket."</p> + +<p>"The what?" asked puzzled Mrs. +Bennett.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The Miss Bonner Birthday Present +Fund. I'm the Cus—Cus—Custodium."</p> + +<p>"The what kind of cuss?" asked Dr. +Bennett, who had just poked his head in at +the door to ask if, by any chance, Mabel had +seen anything of his hair brushes.</p> + +<p>"The Custodium," replied Mabel, with +dignity.</p> + +<p>"I think she means 'Custodian.'" explained +Mrs. Bennett, rescuing the brushes.</p> + +<p>"Well," retorted Mabel, "the toad part +was all right if the tail wasn't. Marjory +named me that, and she's always using bigger +words than she ought to."</p> + +<p>"So is somebody else," said Dr. Bennett, +forgetting to scold about the brushes. "But +I think the 'Custodium' had better hurry, +or she'll be late for school."</p> + +<p>That was Friday, and the little brown +purse contained two dollars and forty-seven +cents, which seemed a tremendous sum to inexperienced +Mabel.</p> + +<p>She remembered afterwards how very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +big, imposing and substantial the school +building had looked that morning as she approached +it and noticed some strangers fingering +the "rain-drops" to see if they were +real. Indeed, everybody, from the largest +tax-payer down to the smallest pupil, was +proud of that building because it was so big +and because there was no more rain-drop +sandstone left in the quarry from which it +had been taken. Even thoughtless Mabel +always swelled with pride when tourists +paused to comment on the queer, spotted appearance +of those massive walls. She meant +to point that building out some day to her +grandchildren as the fount of all her learning; +for the huge, solid building looked as +if it would certainly outlast not only Mabel's +grandchildren but all their great-great-grandchildren +as well. But it didn't.</p> + +<p>The catastrophe came on Saturday. +Afterwards, everybody in Lakeville was +glad, since the thing had to happen at all, +that the day was Saturday, for no one liked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +to think what might have happened had the +trouble come on a schoolday. It was also +a Saturday in the first week of November, +which was not quite so fortunate, as there +was a stiff north wind.</p> + +<p>At two o'clock that afternoon the streets +were almost deserted, but weatherproof +Dick Tucker, with his hands in his pockets, +was going along whistling at the top of his +very good lungs. By the merest chance he +glanced at the wide windows of Lakeville's +most pretentious possession, the big Public +School building.</p> + +<p>From four of the upper windows floated +thin, softly curling plumes of gray smoke. +The windows were closed, but the smoke appeared +to be leaking out from the surrounding +frames.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" muttered Dick, suddenly shutting +off his whistle. "That looks like +smoke. The janitor must be rebuilding the +furnace fire. But why should smoke—I +guess I'll investigate."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<p>The puzzled boy ran up the steps, pulled +the vestibule door open and eagerly pressed +his nose against the plate-glass panel of the +inner door, which was locked. Through the +glass, however, he could plainly see that the +wide corridor was thick with smoke. He +could even smell it.</p> + +<p>"Great guns!" exclaimed Dick. "There's +things doing in there! That furnace never +smokes as hard as all that and besides the +Janitor always has Saturday afternoons off. +Perhaps the basement door is unlocked."</p> + +<p>Dick ran down the steps to find that door, +too, securely fastened.</p> + +<p>"I guess," said Dick, with another look +at the curling smoke about the upper windows, +"the thing for me to do is to turn in +an alarm."</p> + +<p>Dick happened to know where the alarm-box +was situated, so, feeling most important, +yet withal strangely shaky as to legs, the lad +made for the corner, a good long block +distant, smashed the glass according to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +directions, and sent in the alarm, a thing that +he had always longed to do.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later, the big red hosecart, +with gong ringing, firemen shouting and +dogs barking, was dashing up the street. +The hook and ladder company followed and +a meat wagon, or rather a meat-wagon horse, +galloped after. The foundry whistle began +to give the ward number in long, melancholy, +terrifying toots and the hosehouse bell +joined in with a mad clamor. People +poured from the houses along the hosecart's +route, for in Lakeville it was customary for +private citizens to attend all fires.</p> + +<p>Dick, feeling most important, stood on +the schoolhouse steps and pointed upward. +The hosecart stopped with a jerk that must +have surprised the horses, firemen leaped +down and in a twinkling the foremost had +smashed in the big glass door.</p> + +<p>"It's a fire all right," said he.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the Janitor, chopping wood in +his own backyard (which was his way of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +enjoying his afternoons off), had listened +intently to the fire alarm.</p> + +<p>"Six-Two," said he, suddenly dropping +his ax. "Guess I'll have a look at that fire. +That's pretty close to my school."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XII<br /> + +<small>The Fire</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>JEAN, Bettie, Marjory and Mabel ran with +the rest to see what was happening, for +their homes were not far from the schoolhouse. +Indeed, owing to its ample setting, +the building was plainly visible from all +directions; and from a distance, it always +loomed larger than anything else in the +town. To all the citizens it was a most unusual +and alarming sight to see thick, black +smoke curling about the eaves and rising in +a threatening column above the familiar +building. Such a thing had never happened +before.</p> + +<p>Marjory was the first of the quartette to +discover what was going on. She had +opened her bedroom window the better to +count the strokes of the fire-bell when, to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +astonishment, she saw the fire itself or at +least the smoke thereof. Her first thought +was of her three friends; for of course no +Cottager could view such a spectacle as this +promised to be without the companionship +of the other three.</p> + +<p>So Marjory flew around the block—like +a little excited hen, Dr. Tucker said—and +collected the girls. They ran in a body to +join the swelling crowd that surrounded the +smoking building.</p> + +<p>"Keep back out of danger," called Aunty +Jane, who was watching the fire from her +upstairs window.</p> + +<p>"We will," shrieked Marjory, who, with +the other three, was rushing by.</p> + +<p>"Don't get mixed up with the hose," +warned Dr. Tucker, who was carrying young +Peter to view the fire.</p> + +<p>"We won't," promised Bettie. "We'll +stand on the very safest corner."</p> + +<p>"This is it," declared Jean, stopping short +on the sidewalk. "We can see right over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +the heads of the folks that are close to the +building."</p> + +<p>"Should you think," panted Mabel, hopefully, +"that there'd be school Monday?"</p> + +<p>"Looks doubtful," said Marjory.</p> + +<p>"Not upstairs, anyway," returned Jean. +"Everything must be smoked perfectly +black. And it's getting worse every minute +instead of better."</p> + +<p>"Goodness!" cried Mabel, suddenly turning +pale at a new and alarming thought. +"I do hope it won't burn <i>my</i> room. The +money for Miss Bonner's birthday present +is in my desk. It's—it's a horrible lot of +money to lose. I ought never to have left +it there. Dear me! Do you think——"</p> + +<p>"Phew!" cried Jean, paying no heed to +Mabel. "Look at that!"</p> + +<p>"That" was a terrifying flash of red that +suddenly illumined six of the big upper +windows.</p> + +<p>"The High School room," groaned Bettie. +"It's—it's <i>flames</i>!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hang it!" growled an indignant tax-payer. +"Why doesn't somebody <i>do</i> something? +That building cost fifty thousand +dollars."</p> + +<p>"Fire started from a defective flue on top +floor," explained another bystander, "but +that's no reason why the whole place should +go. There's no fire downstairs, but there +<i>will</i> be—What's that? No water? Broken +hydrant?"</p> + +<p>Mabel listened attentively. The bystander +continued:</p> + +<p>"Then the whole building is doomed. +It's had time enough to get a tremendous +start."</p> + +<p>"Oh, look!" cried Jean. "It's bursting +through into the next room—<i>my</i> room! +Oh, how <i>dreadful</i>! All our plants, our +books, our pictures—Oh, oh! I can't bear +to look."</p> + +<p>Firemen and volunteer helpers were, +hurrying in and out the wide south door. +Men carried out towering piles of books and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +tossed them ruthlessly to the ground. Miss +Bonner's big pink geranium was added to +the heap. The Janitor appeared with the +big hall clock, that wouldn't go at all on +ordinary occasions but was now striking +seven hundred and twenty-seven—or something +like that—all at one stretch. It +seemed to be crying out in alarm. The roar +of flames could now be heard, likewise.</p> + +<p>"Why!" exclaimed Jean, wheeling suddenly. +"Where's Mabel? Wasn't she +right beside you a minute ago, Bettie? I +certainly saw her there."</p> + +<p>"She was—but she isn't now," returned +Bettie, looking about anxiously. "I +thought she was behind me."</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" murmured motherly Jean. +"I hope she hasn't gone any closer. Suppose +the scallops on that roof should begin +to melt off."</p> + +<p>"Oh, look!" cried Marjory. "There! +In the doorway!"</p> + +<p>All three looked just in time to see a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +short, not-very-slender girl in an unmistakable +red cap dart in at the smoky doorway.</p> + +<p>"Oh," groaned Jean, "it's Mabel!"</p> + +<p>"Oh," moaned Marjory, "why did I ever +tell her that there was a fire?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid," hazarded Bettie, "that +she's gone to Miss Bonner's room to get that +money."</p> + +<p>Bettie was right. That was exactly what +Mabel had done.</p> + +<p>All along Mabel's way hands had +stretched out to stop the flying figure. But +the hands were always just a little too late. +You see, the owners of the tardy hands did +not realize quickly enough that rash little +Mabel actually meant to enter a building +whose top floor was all in flames. She was +fairly inside before the onlookers grasped +the situation.</p> + +<p>"How perfectly foolish!" cried Marjory, +stamping her foot in helpless rage. "Of +course somebody'll get her out—there's two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +men going in now—but how perfectly silly +for her to go in at all!"</p> + +<p>Mabel, however, was not feeling at all +foolish. No, indeed. The little girl, to her +own way of thinking, was doing a worthy, +even a heroic, deed. She was rescuing the +precious two dollars and forty-seven cents +that her class had so laboriously raised to +buy Miss Bonner a birthday gift. She +would have liked to accomplish it in a little +less spectacular manner, but, no other way +being available, she had made the best of circumstances +and was ignoring the crowd. +She hoped, indeed, that no one had noticed +her; with so much else to look at it seemed +as if one small girl might easily remain unobserved. +To be sure she was risking her +life, the life of the only little girl that her +parents possessed; but that seemed a small +affair beside two dollars and forty-seven +cents. The roof might fall, the cornice +might drop, the huge chimney might collapse, +the suffocating smoke or scorching<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +flames might suddenly pour into that still +unburned lower room. Let them! Heroes +never stopped for such trifles with such a +sum at stake.</p> + +<p>By this time, Jean, Marjory and Bettie +were white and absolutely speechless with +fear. Four firemen were sitting on Dr. +Bennett to keep him from rushing in after +the little girl he had promptly recognized as +his own, and five women were supporting +and encouraging Mrs. Bennett, who had +grown too weak to stand although she still +had her wits about her.</p> + +<p>"Fifty dollars reward," Mr. Black was +shouting, "to the man that gets that child!"</p> + +<p>He would have gone after her himself, +but Mrs. Crane had him firmly by the coat-tails +and both Dr. and Mrs. Tucker were +clinging to his arms.</p> + +<p>"Be aisy, be aisy," Mrs. Malony, the egg-woman +was murmuring to the world in +general. "Miss Mabel's the kind thot's always +escapin' jist be the skin av her teeth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +Rest aisy. Thim fire-laddies'll be havin' +her out av thot dure in another jiffy."</p> + +<p>But, although the crowd rested as "aisy" +as it could, the moments went by and no +Mabel appeared.</p> + +<p>With every instant the fire grew worse. +By this time, the smoke and angry sheets of +flame had burst through the roof and were +streaming, with a mighty, threatening roar, +straight up into the blackened sky—a splendid +sight that was visible for a long distance. +There was no water to check the mighty +fire, for, a very few moments after the hose +had been attached, the hydrant had burst and +the water that should have been busy quenching +the fire was quietly drenching the feet +of many an unheeding bystander.</p> + +<p>And presently the thing that everybody +expected happened. With a lingering, horrible +crash a large part of the upper floor +dropped to the main hall below. Smoke +poured from the lower doors and windows. +In another moment leaping hungry flames<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +were visible in every room except the basement. +The entire superstructure seemed +now just like a gigantic, topless furnace; +and of course it was no longer possible for +even the firemen to venture inside.</p> + +<p>But <i>where</i> was Mabel?</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIII<br /> + +<small>A Heroine's Come-Down</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>MABEL, with the Janitor and four pursuing +firemen at her reckless heels, +had made a bold dash through the long corridor +that led to Miss Bonner's room. Owing +to a strong upward draft, there was +surprisingly little smoke in this corridor and +none at all in Miss Bonner's distant corner.</p> + +<p>Still hotly pursued, Mabel, who had the +advantage of knowing exactly whither she +was bound, darted down the narrow aisle, +reached into her desk, and, unselfishly passing +by sundry dearly loved treasures of her +own, seized the fat brown purse. Such joy +to find it when so many of the desks had +been stripped of their contents!</p> + +<p>She was none too soon, for the next moment +the Janitor's hands had closed upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +her and, plump as she was, the sturdy fellow +easily carried her out of the room, although +Mabel protested crossly that she would +much rather walk. In this uncomfortable +fashion they reached the corridor.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 310px;"> +<img src="images/i0132.jpg" width="310" height="500" alt="Man carrying girl under his arm" /> +<div class="caption">THE STURDY FELLOW CARRIED HER OUT OF THE ROOM.</div> +</div> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Down to the basement!" shouted the +Janitor, nodding toward a narrow doorway, +through which the men promptly vanished.</p> + +<p>Then, seemingly, a new thought assailed +the Janitor.</p> + +<p>"Open door number twelve," he shouted +after the men.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>What a place for a heroine! In spite of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +her 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.</p> + +<p>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 could +<i>never</i> tell that part of it.</p> + +<p>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, <i>crawl</i>—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"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +and that short-cuts saved time. Mabel tried +to tell him what <i>she</i> thought about it, but the +Janitor seemed too excited to listen.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"I saved it, girls."</p> + +<p>Jean, Marjory and Bettie wheeled as one +girl. It was certainly Mabel's voice, the +shape and size were Mabel's, but the +color——</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Jean, in a horrified tone. +"Are you <i>burned</i>? Are you all burned up +to a crisp?"</p> + +<p>But thoughtful Bettie, after one searching<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +look 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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Then everybody crowded around Mabel. +Mrs. Bennett was about to kiss her, but +desisted just in time.</p> + +<p>"Mabel!" she cried, as Jean had done. +"Are you burned?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven!" breathed Mrs. Bennett.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> + +<p>"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——"</p> + +<p>"Where is he?" demanded Dr. Bennett, +eagerly. "I must thank him."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Bennett, "I must thank +him too."</p> + +<p>"And I," said Dr. Tucker, "should like +to shake hands with him."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Don't let me hear any more," Dr. Bennett +said that night, "about that miserable +two dollars and forty-seven cents. I'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +rather give you two hundred and forty-seven +dollars than have you take such risks."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Mabel, you go—go take that bath. And +when you're clean enough to kiss, come back +and say good-night."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," sighed Mabel, "but I <i>do</i> wish +I <i>could</i> raise three more cents."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bennett fished two quarters and three +pennies from his pocket and handed them to +Mabel.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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 continued<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +to 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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"I once dropped a girl down there."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIV<br /> + +<small>A Birthday Party</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>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.</p> + +<p>"If I ever teach school," she often said, +"there'll be two Saturdays every week and +no afternoon sessions."</p> + +<p>Jean, however, really liked to go to school. +So did Marjory, but Bettie was uncertain.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Crane realized that there +could be no school on Monday, she too was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +pleased. She stopped a moment after +church on Sunday to intercept the girls on +their way to Sunday School.</p> + +<p>"My!" said she. "How spruce you +look!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But," said Mabel, cheerfully, "by holding +my breath most of the time I can stand +it for one hour on Sundays."</p> + +<p>"How would you like," asked Mrs. Crane, +"to spend to-morrow with me and Rosa +Marie?"</p> + +<p>"We'd love to," said Jean.</p> + +<p>"We'd like it a lot," said Marjory.</p> + +<p>"Just awfully," breathed Bettie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, goody!" gurgled Mabel.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I <i>hope</i> not," cried Mabel, fervently.</p> + +<p>"No," agreed Marjory, "it certainly +wouldn't do for Rosa Marie to fall off very +<i>much</i>."</p> + +<p>"However," returned Mrs. Crane, loyally, +"she might be very much worse and at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +any 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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"How," pursued kindly Mrs. Crane, "did +he get you out?"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Why!" giggled teasing Marjory, "he +<i>must</i> have 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 wondered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +if Santa Claus could manage the trip +down. Oh, Mabel! It must have been +funny! Tell us about it."</p> + +<p>Mabel grinned, but it was rather a sickly +grin.</p> + +<p>"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 know <i>how</i> far 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 he <i>didn't</i> need to +make me climb all that coal."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"That Janitor," declared Mrs. Crane, +with conviction, "knew exactly what he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +about. 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."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do," begged all four.</p> + +<p>"No," returned Mrs. Crane. "It's a +secret, and not a living soul knows it but me. +I'll tell you to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"We'll <i>surely</i> come," promised the girls.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Tell us the secret!" shouted Mabel. +"Oh—I mean good-morning!"</p> + +<p>"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'd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +like 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."</p> + +<p>"Goody!" cried Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't Mr. Black know it's your birthday?" +queried Jean.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Rosa Marie's dull countenance brightened +at sight of her four friends. She gave four +solemn little bobs with her head.</p> + +<p>"Mercy!" cried Marjory, "she's learning +manners."</p> + +<p>"And see," said Bettie, "she's stringing +beads."</p> + +<p>"That's a surprise," said Mrs. Crane, +proudly. "I taught her that."</p> + +<p>"Fourteen," said Rosa Marie, unexpectedly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Goodness me!" cried Mabel. "Can +she count?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," admitted Mrs. Crane, guardedly, +"but not to depend on. In fact, fourteen +is the only counting word she <i>can</i> say. +Peter taught her that."</p> + +<p>"Fourteen," repeated Rosa Marie, holding +up her string of beads.</p> + +<p>"You ridiculous baby!" laughed Mabel, +hugging her. "Who are the pretty beads +for?"</p> + +<p>Rosa Marie hurriedly clapped the string +about her own brown throat.</p> + +<p>"No, no," remonstrated Mrs. Crane. +"You're making them for Mabel."</p> + +<p>But Rosa Marie set her small white teeth +firmly together and continued to hold the +beads against her own plump neck.</p> + +<p>"<i>She</i> knows whose beads they are," +laughed Jean.</p> + +<p>"I can't teach her a single Christian virtue," +sighed Mrs. Crane. "There isn't one +unselfish hair in that child's head."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She's too young," encouraged Bettie. +"All babies are little savages."</p> + +<p>"Not Anne Halliday," said Jean, who +fairly worshiped her small cousin.</p> + +<p>"That's different," said Marjory. "Anne +was born with manners."</p> + +<p>"The little Tuckers weren't," soothed +Bettie. "Rosa Marie will be generous +enough in time."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could believe it," sighed Mrs. +Crane.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"A ride!" exclaimed Mrs. Crane. +"What in?"</p> + +<p>"An automobile," returned Mr. Black, +turning to wink comically at Bettie.</p> + +<p>"An automobile!" echoed Mrs. Crane. +"I'd like to know whose. There's only one +in town and I don't know the owners."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yours," twinkled Mr. Black. "It's +your birthday present."</p> + +<p>"How did you know that this was the +day?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I remembered," said Mr. Black, +smiling rather tenderly at his old sister. +"You <i>used</i> to have them on this day."</p> + +<p>"I do still," beamed Mrs. Crane. "That's +why I invited the girls; they're my birthday +party. But what's this about automobiles?"</p> + +<p>"Only one. It's yours."</p> + +<p>"Peter Black! I don't believe you."</p> + +<p>"Look out the hall window."</p> + +<p>Everybody rushed to the big window in +the front hall. Sure enough! A splendid +motor car stood at the gate.</p> + +<p>"Peter," faltered Mrs. Crane, "have I +<i>got</i> to ride in that? I've never set foot in +one, and I'm sure I'd be scared to at +this late day."</p> + +<p>"What! Not ride in your own automobile? +Bless you, Sarah, in another week +you'll refuse to stay out of it. Get your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +things on, everybody; and warm ones, too. +Find extra wraps for these girls, Sarah. +There's room for everybody but Rosa +Marie."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed, for obviously Mr. +Black's house was a poor one in which to +find little girls' garments.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Mercy! That's not a bonnet," cried +Mrs. Crane, scurrying away. "I'll be ready +in two minutes."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XV<br /> + +<small>An Unexpected Treat</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>"PETER," demanded Mrs. Crane, stopping +short on the horse-block, "who's +going to run that thing?"</p> + +<p>"I am."</p> + +<p>"Not with me in it. You don't know +how."</p> + +<p>"My dear, I've been learning the business +for five weeks."</p> + +<p>"So <i>that's</i> what has taken you to Bancroft +every afternoon for all that time?"</p> + +<p>"That's exactly what," admitted Mr. +Black.</p> + +<p>"And you're <i>sure</i>," queried Mrs. Crane, +doubtfully, "that you understand all those +fixings?"</p> + +<p>"Every one of them."</p> + +<p>"Will you promise to go slow?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There's a fine for exceeding the speed +limit," twinkled Mr. Black.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Bettie, "it's just like sitting +on baking powder biscuits before they're +baked."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" asked Mr. Black.</p> + +<p>"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 to <i>stay</i> sitting +on them because Father had asked one +of the visitors—<i>such</i> a particular-looking +person—to stay to tea; and I knew that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +Mother wouldn't want a perfectly strange +man to know about it."</p> + +<p>"That was certainly thoughtful," smiled +Mr. Black. "Now, is every one comfortable? +If she is, we'll go for those extra +wraps."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>But when Mabel asked a question, Mrs. +Crane silenced her quickly.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk to him," she implored. +"There's no telling <i>what</i> might happen to +us if he were to take any part of his mind off +that—that helm, for even a single second. +Don't even <i>look</i> at him."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Everybody out for dinner," ordered Mr. +Black.</p> + +<p>"But, Peter," expostulated Mrs. Crane, +hanging back, bashfully, "I'm in my every-day +clothes."</p> + +<p>"Well, this isn't Sunday; and you always +look well dressed. You're a very neat +woman, Sarah."</p> + +<p>"Well I <i>am</i> neat, but black alpaca isn't +silk even if my sleeves <i>are</i> this 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. You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +order for me. There's only one thing I +can't eat and that's parsnips."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I never ate a really truly hotel dinner +before," confided Bettie, happily.</p> + +<p>"And to think," sighed Jean, contentedly, +"of doing it without knowing you were +going to! That always makes things +nicer."</p> + +<p>"And I <i>never</i> expected to ride in a navy-blue +automobile," murmured Marjory.</p> + +<p>"Or to have four kinds of potatoes," +breathed Mabel, who sat half surrounded by +empty dishes—"little birds' bath-tubs," she +called them.</p> + +<p>"You must be a vegetarian," smiled Mr. +Black.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> + +<p>"N-no," denied Mabel. "Only a potatorian."</p> + +<p>"Mabel!" objected Marjory. "There +isn't any such word."</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is," returned Mabel, calmly. +"I just made it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm sure," sighed Mrs. Crane, "I +never expected to have any such birthday as +this."</p> + +<p>"You see," said Mr. Black, giving his sister's +plump elbow a kindly squeeze, "this is +a good many birthdays rolled into one."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You're in luck," laughed Bettie. "A +very small, thin one is all <i>I</i> can manage—pineapple +ice, I guess."</p> + +<p>"Anyway," said Marjory, "I shan't +choose bread pudding. We have that +every Tuesday and Friday at home. Aunty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +Jane 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."</p> + +<p>"Ice-cream," said Jean, "with hot chocolate +sauce."</p> + +<p>"Bring <i>me</i>," said Mabel, turning to the +waiter, "hot mince pie, ice-cream with hot +chocolate sauce and a pineapple ice with +little cakes."</p> + +<p>"Bring little cakes for everybody," added +Mr. Black.</p> + +<p>"I declare," said Mrs. Crane, "I don't +know when I've been so hungry."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Peter," demanded Mrs. Crane, "what +<i>is</i> that speed limit?"</p> + +<p>"About eight miles an hour."</p> + +<p>"Hum—and it's seventeen miles——"</p> + +<p>"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, I <i>did</i> have a cap—here it is in my coat +pocket."</p> + +<p>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 the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +motor 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.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Mabel, ecstatically, "that +Mr. Black is just too dear for words. <i>Some</i> +folks are too stingy to live, with their automobiles +and horses and never <i>think</i> of giving +anybody a ride."</p> + +<p>"He's certainly very generous," agreed +Jean.</p> + +<p>"Of course," ventured Marjory, meditatively, +"he has plenty of money or he +couldn't do nice things."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There <i>are</i> folks," 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 a <i>very</i> good 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."</p> + +<p>"Good-evening, girls," said Mrs. Mapes, +coming in with a newspaper in her hand. +"I <i>thought</i> I 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."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVI<br /> + +<small>A Scattered School</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the paper is mistaken," soothed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +Jean. "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."</p> + +<p>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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +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!</p> + +<p>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, Marjory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +climbing 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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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 maid +<i>is</i> more timid than Mabel is."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"A side view of a plain cow," said she.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I'll give you a diagram," smiled Miss +Rossitor, "for I see very plainly, that it +wouldn't be safe not to."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Miss Bettie thinks," ventured +a belated pupil, a pink-cheeked girl with an +impertinent nose, "that one cow is a whole +butcher shop."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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, "Oysters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +on the half-shell," on the breast, +"buttons."</p> + +<p>Bettie looked puzzled and doubtful but +Miss Rossitor laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"Henrietta Bedford," she said, "you're +a complete humbug. If you don't settle +down to business you won't get home to-night."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Near the Cottage they met Jean, Marjory +and Mabel just starting out to look for belated +Bettie.</p> + +<p>"This," said Bettie introducing her +new acquaintance, "is Henrietta—Henrietta——"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"This," obeyed overwhelmed Bettie, "is +Jean, this is Marjory and this is Mabel +Bennett."</p> + +<p>"What! The Damsel of the Dust-chute! +I am indeed honored."</p> + +<p>Then, as her quick eye traveled over +Mabel's plump figure, Henrietta added +wickedly:</p> + +<p>"Was that chute built to fit?"</p> + +<p>Mabel flushed angrily.</p> + +<p>"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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +But I have a warm heart and I'm +really much nicer than I sound. See, I +kneel at your insulted feet."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Get up, you goose," laughed Mabel. +"Your apology is accepted."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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 go +<i>in</i>side any strange house without my grandmother's +permission. You'll have to call on +me first. She is <i>very</i> particular in such +matters. But," added Henrietta, with a +sudden twinkle, "I'm not. So, if you'll +kindly rush in and make that chocolate,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +there's no earthly reason why I shouldn't +stand just outside your gate and drink it."</p> + +<p>"Oh," cried Bettie, "is it possible that +you're Mrs. Howard Slater's new granddaughter?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVII<br /> + +<small>An Invitation</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"I've heard something," said Marjory, +"but I can't just remember what, about some +girl named Henrietta."</p> + +<p>"Well, you've seen Mrs. Howard +Slater?"</p> + +<p>All the girls had seen Mrs. Slater, the +beautifully gowned, decidedly aristocratic +old lady with abundant but perfectly white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +hair 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.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Marjory, replying to Bettie's +question, "we sit behind Mrs. Slater in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +church, 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——"</p> + +<p>"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 that <i>looked</i> like that."</p> + +<p>"How do you like Henrietta?" asked +Mabel.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Bettie.</p> + +<p>"Neither do I," replied Jean.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"The chocolate's ready," announced Jean, +opening a box of wafers. "Here, Bettie, +you carry Henrietta's cup and I'll take these. +Let's <i>all</i> have our chocolate on the sidewalk."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," said Jean, "that you have +to have your first on the sidewalk."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"A formal call!" gasped Bettie.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We never made a formal call in all our +lives," objected Jean.</p> + +<p>"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——"</p> + +<p>"Cards!" gasped Jean and Bettie.</p> + +<p>"Cards!" snorted Mabel, flushing indignantly. +"We haven't a card to our +names!"</p> + +<p>"You <i>must</i> have 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, <i>you</i> must be like that, too."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll try," said Mabel, "but it'll be pretty +hard work."</p> + +<p>"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. And <i>do</i> come just as +early as you can—I'm really desperately +lonely."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"You'll surely come," pleaded Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"We'll come," promised Bettie, "cards +and all."</p> + +<p>"<i>Au revoir</i>," said Henrietta, carefully +balancing her cup on the top rail of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +fence. "I must run along now to try on +my clothes."</p> + +<p>"Was that French?" queried Mabel, gazing +after the departing figure.</p> + +<p>"I think so," replied Jean.</p> + +<p>"She can certainly talk English fast +enough," said Marjory. "I suppose just +one language <i>isn't</i> enough for anybody that +chatters like that."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I think she did," said Marjory. "You +see, I sit behind Mrs. Slater in church—and +I'm thankful that it's behind."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"That's it," agreed Marjory. "One<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +would have to be sure that her back hair was +absolutely perfect to be at all comfortable in +front of Mrs. Slater."</p> + +<p>"And that," groaned discouraged Mabel, +"is the sort of person I'm to make my first +formal call on."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Father has some blank cards," said +Bettie, "and he writes beautifully. I'll get +him to do cards for all of us."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"There are holes in my best gloves," +mourned Bettie. "They came in a missionary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +box, and missionary gloves are +never very good even to start with. Besides, +Dick wore them first—I never had a <i>new</i> +pair of kid gloves."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Goody!" rejoiced Bettie.</p> + +<p>"I wish," said Jean, "that my shoes were +newer, but I'll get the boys to black 'em."</p> + +<p>"I can't help <i>you</i> out," laughed Mabel. +"My shoes are short and fat and yours are +long and slim."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We'll have to get up a little earlier to-morrow +morning," said Marjory.</p> + +<p>"Mercy!" exclaimed Jean, "are you +leaving all those chocolate cups on the fence +for <i>me</i> to carry in?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said obliging Bettie, +seizing two. "Come on, you lazy people."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> + +<small>Obeying Instructions</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>THE four girls were wonderfully excited +all the next day. They were restless +in school and fidgety at home.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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, <i>could</i> you +lend me a perfectly inkless hankerchief?"</p> + +<p>"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 not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +going to rush off in the middle of my oyster +soup to black <i>any</i>body's best shoes."</p> + +<p>"Is it a reception?" asked Roger.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Wallace, "just a formal +call on Henrietta Bedford."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You won't forget my shoes, will you?" +reminded anxious Jean.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to know how I <i>could</i>," demanded +Wallace, feelingly.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"You needn't think," said Mabel, greeting +her friends with an expressive grimace, +"that <i>I</i> ever picked out these lemon-colored +frights. Somebody sent 'em for Christmas. +None of the pretty ones were big enough—I've +tried four pairs."</p> + +<p>"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.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +And <i>please</i> don't rub them along the fences. +There! Mine's on as far as it will go."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i0186.jpg" width="600" height="387" alt="Four girls in hats and coats" /> +<div class="caption">THE DECIDEDLY DEPRESSED FOUR STARTED DOWN THE STREET.</div> +</div> + +<p>"I guess you'd better finish this one," +said Dr. Bennett, abandoning his task. +"I rather tackle a case of smallpox than +wrestle with another job like that. She'd +look much better in mittens."</p> + +<p>"Mittens!" snubbed Mabel. "You can't +make formal calls in mittens! Now, Somebody, +please put me into my jacket and hat, +if I'm not to touch anything."</p> + +<p>The decidedly depressed four, in their +Sunday best, started down the street. +Mabel's gloves, owing to their brilliant +color, were certainly conspicuous, and unconsciously +she made them more so by the careful +and rigid manner in which she carried +them. It was plain that she had them very +much on her mind. And when her hat tilted +forward over one eye she left it there rather +than risk damaging those immaculate lemon-hued +gloves.</p> + +<p>"Take my muff," implored Marjory.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +"That yellow splendor lights up the whole +street."</p> + +<p>"No, siree," declined Mabel. "If Mrs. +Slater wants gloves she's going to have 'em. +Do you think I'm going to suffer like this +and not have 'em <i>show</i>?"</p> + +<p>So Mabel, a swollen, imprisoned but +gorgeous hand dangling at each side, a big +navy-blue hat flopping over one eye, strutted +muffless down the street.</p> + +<p>"That's the house," announced Jean, as +they turned the corner. "That big one +with the covered driveway."</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" shuddered Marjory, "it gives +me chills to think of ringing such a wealthy +doorbell. Are the cards safe, Bettie? My! +I hope you haven't lost them."</p> + +<p>"In my pocket in an envelope," assured +Bettie.</p> + +<p>"Can you see any white?" queried Jean, +nervously. "I think my top petticoat has +broken loose."</p> + +<p>"It seems all right," said Marjory, stooping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +to test it with little sharp jerks. "Firm +as the Rock of Gibraltar."</p> + +<p>"It won't be if you pull like that," objected +Jean.</p> + +<p>"Somebody open the gate," requested +Mabel. "I can't touch things."</p> + +<p>"Everybody stand up straight," commanded +Marjory. "We must look our +best when we go up the walk."</p> + +<p>"I wish I hadn't come," demurred Bettie, +hanging back, diffidently. "Let's wait till +it's darker."</p> + +<p>"No," asserted Jean. "We'd better get +it over."</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Mabel, "I don't want to +wear these gloves a minute longer than I +have to."</p> + +<p>"All right," sighed Bettie, despondently, +"but you go first, Jean."</p> + +<p>They had waited on the imposing doorstep +for a long five minutes when it occurred +to Marjory to ask if any one had pushed the +bell.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," replied Jean, with a surprised air. +"I thought <i>you</i> had."</p> + +<p>"And I," said Bettie, "supposed that +Mabel had."</p> + +<p>"How could I," demanded Mabel, hotly, +"in these gloves?"</p> + +<p>And then, all four began to giggle. +Never before had such an inopportune fit of +helpless, hysterical giggling seized the Cottagers. +No one could stop. Tears rolled +down Mabel's plump cheeks, and, fettered +by her lemon-colored gloves, she had to let +them roll, until Bettie wiped them away. And +that set them all off again. In the midst of +it Marjory's sharp elbow inadvertently struck +the push-bell and Simmons, the imposing, +much-dreaded butler, opened the door. Instantly +the giggling ceased. Four exceedingly +solemn little girls filed into the big hall. +Bettie groped nervously for her pocket, +found it and endeavored to extract the +cards. But the large, stiff envelope stuck +and, for a long, embarrassing moment, Bettie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +fumbled in vain; while the butler, his +chin "very high and scornful" as Marjory +said afterwards, waited.</p> + +<p>At last the cards were out. Diffident +Bettie dropped them, envelope and all, on +the extended plate; but Jean deftly seized +the envelope and shook out the cards. Next +followed a most unhappy moment. Simmons +was evidently expecting them to do +<i>something</i>, they hadn't the remotest idea +what.</p> + +<p>Then, to their great relief, there was a +sudden "swish" of silken skirts, a flash of +scarlet and lively Henrietta, who had slid +down the broad banister, was greeting them +warmly.</p> + +<p>"Grandmother's out," said she. "Come +up to my room and have a real visit before +she gets back. Simmons, just toddle down +to the lower regions for some fruit and anything +else you can find; send them up to my +room."</p> + +<p>Something very like a smile flitted across<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +Simmons's wooden countenance. Perhaps +it amused him to be ordered to "toddle."</p> + +<p>"Do you like my new gown?" queried +Henrietta, leading the way upstairs and +flirting her accordion-pleated skirts in graceful +fashion. "It's my dinner dress. I +have to dress for dinner every night—such +a fuss for just two of us. Come in here—this +is my sitting-room."</p> + +<p>"How very odd," said Jean, finding her +voice at last.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it?" laughed Henrietta, shaking +her brown curls. She wore them tied back +with two enormous black bows. "Grandmother's +a mixture of everything, you know—French, +English, New York Dutch—and +her furniture shows it. Lots of it came +from Europe and Father picked up things +in India and China—such a jolly dad as he +is. That's why this place is such a jumble."</p> + +<p>"I like it," declared Jean. "It looks interesting—as +if there were lovely stories +in it."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There are," said Henrietta, drawing +aside a heavy, silken curtain, "and I keep +making new ones to fit. This is my bedroom, +this next one is my dressing-room and +this is my bath."</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" shuddered Mabel, "do you take +shower baths?"</p> + +<p>"Every morning," laughed Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"What a lovely dressing table!" exclaimed +Bettie, peering into the oval mirror +and smiling into her own dark eyes. "I +never saw such pretty things, even in a +catalogue."</p> + +<p>"It's French," said Henrietta, "but all +those little jeweled boxes came from Calcutta—Father +just loves to buy little boxes +with inlaid tops. Oh, here's Greta, with +things to eat." Henrietta hastily swept her +belongings from a dainty little table and the +smiling maid deposited the heavy tray.</p> + +<p>"Tangerines, nuts, figs and sponge cake," +chattered Henrietta. "That's very nice, +Greta. Help yourselves to chairs, girls.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +Here's a tabouret for you, little Marjory. +Catch, Jean," and the merry little hostess +tossed a golden tangerine to Jean. "Oh, +wait," she added. "You mustn't take off +your gloves or get them soiled, because +Grandmother always gets in about this time, +and you know you must be very formal with +Grandmother. I'll peel them for you. Now +draw up closer. You mustn't spot your +gloves, so I'll feed you. First, a bit of +sponge cake all around. Now an almond. +Now the orange. Oh, I'm forgetting myself! +Now more sponge cake."</p> + +<p>"This is fine," said Bettie. "I'm always +hungry after school."</p> + +<p>"So am I," said Jean.</p> + +<p>"If I'd s'posed," said Mabel, "that formal +calls were like this, I'd have started +sooner."</p> + +<p>"Are you a different person every time +anybody sees you?" asked Bettie, curiously.</p> + +<p>"Why?" queried Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"Because," explained Bettie, "you seem<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +so very changeable. You're a mischief in +school, yesterday you seemed almost sad and +to-day you're so polite."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>thank</i> you," said Henrietta, rising +to sweep a deep and very much exaggerated +courtesy. "Nobody <i>ever</i> before said that I +was polite."</p> + +<p>"Miss Henrietta," said Greta, tapping at +the door, "the carriage has just turned the +corner."</p> + +<p>"Follow me," said Henrietta, with an instant +change of tone, as she hurriedly +brushed the crumbs from her lap and pulled +Mabel's jacket into place. "Follow me and +don't make a sound. It's time to be formal."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIX<br /> + +<small>With Henrietta</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>THROUGH a long corridor, around +several corners and down two flights +of back stairs, the formal callers, their +hearts in their throats, followed Henrietta, +who finally paused at the basement +door.</p> + +<p>"There," said Henrietta, mysteriously, +"you're safe at last. Now listen. You +must slip out through the alley, walk slowly +round the block, approach the house with +dignity, ring the doorbell and present your +cards to Simmons."</p> + +<p>"We—we can't," faltered Bettie. "He +has them <i>now</i>."</p> + +<p>"I'll poke them out through the letter +slot," laughed resourceful Henrietta. +"You're not going to escape that formal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +call. Wait, your hat's over one ear, Mabel. +There now, you're perfectly lovely. Now +don't forget to pick up the cards."</p> + +<p>Entirely bewildered by Henrietta's pranks, +the conventional visitors walked out through +the alley, strolled round the block and nervously +ascended the front steps. There, sure +enough, were eight white cards popping out +through the letter slot.</p> + +<p>"My goodness!" gasped Jean, "they're +not <i>our</i> cards. This one says 'Mrs. Francis +Patterson.'"</p> + +<p>"And this," said Marjory, picking up another, +"says 'John D. Thomas, sole agent +for Todd's shoes.'"</p> + +<p>"According to mine," giggled Bettie, +"I'm Miss Ethel Louise Cartwright. What's +on yours, Mabel?"</p> + +<p>"'With love from Father,'" groaned +Mabel.</p> + +<p>"What in the world shall we do?" +queried Jean, gathering up the remaining +cards. "Not one of them will fit <i>us</i>."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Give them to Simmons in a bunch," suggested +Marjory. "He didn't look at the +last lot, so perhaps he won't now."</p> + +<p>So the girls, gathering what courage they +could, touched the bell, presented their odd +assortment of cards to Simmons—who +almost succeeded in not looking astonished +at seeing the callers again so soon—and +were ushered into the reception room.</p> + +<p>Such a sedate Henrietta advanced to meet +them! Such a dignified, but charming old +lady rose to shake hands all around! +Such a sheepish quartette of visitors perched +on the extreme edge of the nearest four +chairs! Mrs. Slater smiled encouragingly; +but Henrietta, from her post behind her +grandmother's chair, displayed every sign of +abject terror.</p> + +<p>"We—we came to call," faltered Jean.</p> + +<p>"That was pleasant," responded Mrs. +Slater. "You are just in time to have some +tea. Midge, will you please ring for Greta? +I'm very glad you came, for I wanted my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +granddaughter to meet some of the young +people."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Slater, her slender, beringed fingers +moving daintily among the cups, made the +tea. Henrietta, in absolute silence and much +subdued in manner, passed the cups, the +delicate sandwiches and the little frosted tea +cakes.</p> + +<p>"Midge," demanded Mrs. Slater, turning +suddenly to her granddaughter, "what in +the world is the matter with you? You +haven't said a word for fifteen minutes. I +never knew you to be still for so long a +time."</p> + +<p>"It's my conscience," groaned Henrietta, +dolefully. "I'm in another scrape."</p> + +<p>"What have you done now?" asked Mrs. +Slater, who seemed very much less terrifying +than the girls had expected to find her. +"Confession is good for the soul, my dear."</p> + +<p>Henrietta's infectious laugh gurgled out +suddenly and merrily.</p> + +<p>"I've frightened four girls almost into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +spasms," said she. "You see, Grannie, I +told them that they'd <i>have</i> to call formally if +they wanted me to visit them. When they +came you were out, so I took them upstairs, +gave them things to eat and a jolly good +time, generally. Then, just for a joke, I +had Greta tell me when you were coming +and I led them carefully down the back way, +made them go round the block and do it all +over again, cards and all. You see, Grannie, +they don't know you. They haven't seen +anything but your husk; and I had them +scared blue; didn't I, girls?"</p> + +<p>"Midge, you shouldn't have done it," reproved +Mrs. Slater, whose black eyes, however, +were sparkling with only half-suppressed +merriment. "That wasn't quite a +courteous way to treat your guests!"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," pleaded Henrietta, flopping +down on her knees and looking the very +picture of penitence. "Walk on me, Jean. +Wipe your shoes on me, Bettie. I grovel at +your feet—at <i>every</i>body's feet."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't grovel too hard in that dress," +warned Mrs. Slater.</p> + +<p>"Am I forgiven?" implored Henrietta, +gathering up her ruffles with elaborate care.</p> + +<p>The girls were not certain. Their pride +had been injured and they eyed Henrietta +doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"When you've known Midge as long as +I have," said Mrs. Slater, "you'll discover +that she is really too tender-hearted to hurt +a fly. But you'll also discover that she +never misses an opportunity to play pranks +on every soul she loves. It's a symbol of +her favor. She will never tell you an untruth, +she is too honorable to practise downright +deceit; but depend on it, girls, she will +fool you until you won't believe your own +ears. And she's always sorry, afterwards. +She spends half her time apologizing."</p> + +<p>"Ah, <i>do</i> forgive," pleaded extravagant +Henrietta, suddenly extending imploring +hands. "I mean it, truly. It <i>wasn't</i> nice +of me."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jean, stooping suddenly, kissed the upturned +lips.</p> + +<p>"Why!" exclaimed Jean, genuinely surprised, +"I didn't know I was going to do +that."</p> + +<p>"She gets around everybody," said Mrs. +Slater, "and the worst of it is she's so good +and so naughty that you'll never know +whether you like her or not."</p> + +<p>"Why, Grannie!" exclaimed Henrietta, +"don't <i>you</i> know?"</p> + +<p>"I know that I like you," said the old +lady, smiling fondly at pretty, whimsical +Henrietta, "but you know very well that I +also regard you with strong disapproval. I +consider you a very faulty young person."</p> + +<p>"You're a dear Grannie," breathed Henrietta, +kissing the old lady's delicate hand, +"but I'm quite sure you're spoiling me; isn't +she, Bettie?"</p> + +<p>"Were you like Henrietta," queried Jean, +"when you were young?"</p> + +<p>"My dear, you've found me out," laughed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +Mrs. Slater. "I was just such a piece of +impishness; but my father was very severe, +and I think I began earlier to restrain my +prankishness. Midge, unfortunately, has a +lenient father and a doting grandmother. +Between them she is having pretty much her +own way."</p> + +<p>"I'll be good," promised Henrietta, comically, +"in spite of them; but you see, girls, +with such a pair of relatives dogging my +footsteps, it's uphill work."</p> + +<p>After a little more conversation, the girls +rose to depart. Mrs. Slater begged them to +come again. She said that she enjoyed +young people. Then the big front door was +closed behind them and the dreaded visit was +over.</p> + +<p>"So," said Marjory, "<i>that's</i> what Mrs. +Slater is like inside."</p> + +<p>Mabel, unable to bear them longer, was +recklessly peeling off her lemon-colored +gloves.</p> + +<p>"She's lovely, inside and out," declared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +Bettie, "but I never dreamed that she was +like <i>that</i>."</p> + +<p>"She wouldn't have cared if I <i>had</i> gone +without gloves," mourned aggrieved Mabel. +"I'd like to pay Henrietta back for <i>that</i>."</p> + +<p>"Girls," asked Marjory, "do you <i>like</i> +Henrietta?"</p> + +<p>"I adore her," declared Jean.</p> + +<p>"I <i>think</i> I like her," said Bettie.</p> + +<p>"I know <i>I</i> don't," asserted Mabel, waving +her throbbing hands in the evening breeze +to cool them.</p> + +<p>"I do and I don't," said Marjory. "I admire +her, but she makes me uncomfortable. +I feel as if she were just playing with me."</p> + +<p>"She seems more than fourteen," murmured +Jean, dreamily.</p> + +<p>"That's because she's traveled so much," +explained Bettie.</p> + +<p>"She's like the big opal in Mother's ring," +mused imaginative Jean. "One moment all +warm and sparkly, the next, all cold and +quiet."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And you never know," supplemented +Marjory, "which way it's going to be."</p> + +<p>"I like folks that are downright bad or +good," said Mabel, crossly. "Burglars +ought to be burglars and ministers ought to +be ministers and they all ought to be marked +so you can tell 'em apart; else, how are you +going to?"</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XX<br /> + +<small>The Call Returned</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>THE following Saturday, the girls carried +their Christmas sewing to Jean's. +The sewing had not reached a very exciting +stage, so tongues moved faster than fingers. +Mabel was still working on a shoe-bag for +her father but, owing to some misadventure, +one of the two compartments was several +sizes larger than the other. Mabel regarded +this difference with disapproval until comforting +Jean came to the rescue.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," suggested Jean, "there's a +difference in the size of your father's feet."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there is," cried Mabel, gleefully. +"His right shoe is always tighter than the +left."</p> + +<p>"But," objected quick-witted Marjory, +"it isn't his feet that are going into that bag. +It's his shoes, and they're the same size."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh," groaned Mabel, settling into a disconsolate +heap, "that's so."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Bettie. "Give me +the bag, and I'll fix those pockets."</p> + +<p>Bettie was embroidering an elaborate pincushion +for her mother, but she stopped so +often to help the others that there seemed +small hope of its ever getting finished. +Marjory, who was making one just like it +for her Aunty Jane, was progressing much +more rapidly.</p> + +<p>Jean, rummaging in her work-bag, was +trying to decide which of four partly completed +articles to sew on when a carriage +stopped at Mrs. Mapes's gate.</p> + +<p>"It's a caller," said Jean. "We'll have +to vacate. Here, scurry into the dining-room +with all your stuff. I'll answer the +bell; and you, Bettie, remind Mother to take +off her apron—she's apt to forget it."</p> + +<p>Jean, stopping long enough to twitch the +chairs into place, went primly to the door.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning," said a familiar voice,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +"I've come to return your visit. It's all +right, James. You needn't wait."</p> + +<p>"Come back, girls," called Jean, when she +had ushered the caller in. "It's Henrietta."</p> + +<p>"What luck!" cried Henrietta, pulling off +her gloves. "Now I can make a long, long +call instead of four short ones. What are +you doing—Christmas presents? Give me +a spool of fine white thread, some pins and a +sofa pillow. I'm going to make one, too."</p> + +<p>"Take off your things," said Jean, +smilingly.</p> + +<p>Henrietta wriggled out of her jacket and +tossed her hat on the couch.</p> + +<p>"What is it going to be?" asked Bettie, +watching the merry visitor's deft fingers fly +to and fro.</p> + +<p>"Lace," returned Henrietta. "I learned +to make it in France. Of course these aren't +the right materials for very fine lace, but I +can make an edge for a pincushion or a mat. +I like to do things with my fingers."</p> + +<p>"Can you draw?" asked Bettie.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A little," returned Henrietta, modestly, +"but you mustn't tell Miss Rossitor, or she'll +have <i>me</i> doing cows and pigs and roosters."</p> + +<p>"What grade do you belong in?" asked +Jean.</p> + +<p>"None," laughed the visitor, arranging +the pins in what looked like a very intricate +pattern. "I couldn't be graded. I'm having +Domestic Science under the Methodist +church, Senior Latin in the Council Chamber, +Post-graduate French in a cloak-room off the +A. O. U. W. Hall, Sophomore American +History with the Baptists, and I'm doing +mathematics in the kindergarten—or somewhere +down there. I had to go back to the +very beginning. If I ever tell you anything +with numbers in it don't believe it. I don't +know six from six hundred. But I'm doing +lessons in five different buildings and getting +lots of exercise besides. That's doing pretty +well for my first year in school."</p> + +<p>"Your first year!" cried Marjory. +"Surely you're fooling!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not this time," assured Henrietta. +"I've had governesses and tutors ever since +I could think, but this is truly my first school +year. And it's great fun. But if I stay in +America, I'm to go to boarding school, +Grandmother says. I've always wanted to, +and Grannie thinks it will be good for me to +be with other girls. You see, I've always +lived with grown folks, so I need to renew +my youth."</p> + +<p>"Mother's been reading the boarding-school +advertisements in the magazines +lately," said Mabel. "I heard her read some +of them aloud to Father. But of course +they couldn't have been thinking about <i>me</i>. +But they sounded interesting."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," offered Bettie, "they had read +all the stories and those boarding schools +were all they had left to read."</p> + +<p>"I guess so," said Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Jane reads them, too," added Marjory. +"There's some money that is to be +used for my education and for nothing else.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +When I've finished with High School I'm to +go to College."</p> + +<p>"Oh well," laughed, Jean, lightly, "you're +safe for another five years."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i>'m not," returned Henrietta. "I'm +going next September, and if Grandmother +had known how the schools were going to be +you wouldn't be having the pleasure of my +company now. She says I'm getting thin in +the pursuit of knowledge—it's too scattered, +in Lakeville. That's why she made me ride +to-day."</p> + +<p>"Look!" cried Mabel, her eyes bulging +with astonishment. "She's really making +lace!"</p> + +<p>"It's for you," said Henrietta, flashing a +bright glance at Mabel. "It's an apology, +Mam'selle, for my past—and perhaps my +future—misdeeds."</p> + +<p>"I <i>said</i> I didn't like you," blurted honest +Mabel, "but I do."</p> + +<p>"Don't depend on me," sighed Henrietta. +"I don't wear well. You'll find the real me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +rubbing through in spots. Granny says I'm +an imp that came in one of Dad's Hindoo +boxes."</p> + +<p>"Why does your grandmother call you +Midge?" asked Bettie.</p> + +<p>"Because she doesn't like Henrietta. You +see, I have five names—they do that sort of +thing on the other side—and I take turns +with them. When I find out which one suits +me best, I'll choose that one for keeps."</p> + +<p>"What are they?" demanded Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Henrietta Constance Louise Frederika +Francesca—you see, there isn't a really suitable +name in the lot. But when you have +five quarrelsome aunts, as Father had, you +have to please all or none of them by giving +your poor helpless baby all their horrid +names. Call me Sallie—I've <i>always</i> wanted +to be Sallie."</p> + +<p>"Think of anybody," laughed Jean, "with +as many names as that wanting a new one."</p> + +<p>"Where's that baby you adopted?" asked +Henrietta, abruptly changing the subject.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +"Didn't one of you adopt a baby or something +like that?"</p> + +<p>"It was Mabel," replied Marjory. "The +rest of us are pretty good, but Mabel's sort +of thoughtless about borrowing things. She +just happened to borrow an unreturnable +baby, one day."</p> + +<p>"Where is it now?"</p> + +<p>"At Mr. Black's. Her name is Rosa +Marie."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to see her," said Henrietta, carefully +moving a pin.</p> + +<p>"Stay to luncheon," urged Jean. +"Father's away, so there'll be plenty of +room. Afterwards we can all pay a visit to +Rosa Marie."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid," said Marjory, "she's getting +to be a burden to Mrs. Crane."</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Bettie, "but it isn't Rosa +Marie's fault. Mrs. Crane has been reading +a lot of books about bringing up children—you +know she never had any. Before she +discovered how many things <i>might</i> happen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +to a baby she was quite comfortable; but +now she's always certain that Rosa Marie +is coming down with something."</p> + +<p>"And she doesn't seem very bright," +mourned Jean.</p> + +<p>"Who—Mrs. Crane?"</p> + +<p>"No, Rosa Marie. You see, we don't +know exactly how old she is—Mabel didn't +think to ask—but she seems big enough to +be lots smarter than she is. We're rather +disappointed in her."</p> + +<p>"I'm not," protested Mabel, loyally. +"She's just slow because she hasn't any little +brothers and sisters. She's a <i>dear</i> child."</p> + +<p>"Cheer up, Mabel," soothed Henrietta. +"As long as she's beautiful she doesn't need +to be bright."</p> + +<p>At this, Marjory looked at Jean, then at +Bettie, and smiled an odd, significant smile. +Here was a chance to get even with Henrietta; +and, unconsciously, Mabel helped.</p> + +<p>"She's beautiful to me," said Mabel, +"and she's ever so cunning."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What color are her eyes?"</p> + +<p>"Dark," said Marjory. "Darker than +yours."</p> + +<p>"Then she's a brunette?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," said Marjory, as if considering +the question. "She's darker, at least, than +I am."</p> + +<p>"We all are," said Henrietta, with an admiring +glance at Marjory's golden locks. +"We seem to shade down gradually. Mabel +comes next, then Jean, then Bettie; I'm the +darkest, because Bettie's eyes are like brown +velvet, but mine are black, like bits of hard +coal. Where does Rosa Marie come in?"</p> + +<p>"I think," said Marjory, with an air of +pondering deeply, "that Rosa Marie is almost, +if not quite, as dark as you; even +darker, perhaps. But her hair isn't as +curly."</p> + +<p>"Dear little soul," breathed Henrietta, +tenderly. "I've a tremendous liking for +babies, but they're pretty scarce at our house. +But there was one in England that was—Oh,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +if I could just see that English baby <i>now</i>! +Wouldn't I just hug her!"</p> + +<p>Henrietta's eyes were unwontedly tender, +her expression unusually sweet.</p> + +<p>"You're not a bit like you've been any of +the other times," observed Bettie. "I like +you a lot better when you're like this."</p> + +<p>"I'm not myself to-day," twinkled Henrietta. +"I'm Sallie—just plain Sallie. But +beware of me when I'm Frederika, the Disguised +Duchess. <i>That's</i> when I'm not to be +trusted."</p> + +<p>"I think," said Jean, listening to some faraway +sound, "that lunch is about ready."</p> + +<p>"Good!" exclaimed Henrietta. "The +sooner it's over, the sooner I can hug that +darling baby. It's months since I've held +one in my arms—the dear little body."</p> + +<p>"You'll find——" began Mabel; but the +other three promptly headed her off before +she had time to explain that Rosa Marie was +a pretty big armful.</p> + +<p>"It's time to go home," exclaimed Marjory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +and Bettie, in chorus. "Come on, +Mabel."</p> + +<p>"If you'll excuse me," said Jean, speaking +directly to Mabel, "I'll go set a place for +Henrietta. Sorry I can't ask everybody to +stay; but come back at two o'clock."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXI<br /> + +<small>Getting Even</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>LUNCHEON at Jean's that day proved +a lively affair, for both boys were +home; Henrietta chatted as frankly and as +merrily as if she had known them all her +life. Wallace, who was shy, squirmed uneasily +at first and kept his eyes on his plate; +but Roger, who had encountered the visitor +in his French class, was able to respond to +her friendly chatter.</p> + +<p>"I like boys," asserted Henrietta, frankly, +"but I haven't any belonging to me but one +and he's a horrid muff—sixteen and a regular +baby. He's my cousin."</p> + +<p>"I thought you liked babies," laughed +Jean.</p> + +<p>"I do, but not that kind. He's been +molly-coddled until it makes you sick to look +at him."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Trot him out," offered Roger. "I'll +give him an antidote."</p> + +<p>"He's in England," said Henrietta, "and +I hope he'll stay there. He hasn't any idea +of doing anything for himself; he's always +talking about what he'll do when somebody +else does such and such a thing for him."</p> + +<p>"You mean," said Roger, "he hasn't any +American independence."</p> + +<p>"That's it," agreed Henrietta. "He'd +have made a nice pink-and-white girl, but +he's no use at all as a boy."</p> + +<p>"How dark it's getting," said Jean. "I +can hardly see my plate."</p> + +<p>"I think," prophesied Wallace, breaking +his long silence, "that it's going to snow. +The sky's been a little thick for three days; +when it comes we'll get a lot."</p> + +<p>"Goody!" cried Henrietta, "I've never +seen a real Lake Superior snowstorm and I +want to. So far all the snow we've had has +come in the night. I want to <i>see</i> it snow."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't," growled Wallace, "if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +you had to shovel several tons of it off your +sidewalk."</p> + +<p>"Will it snow very soon?" queried Henrietta, +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Probably not before dark," returned +Wallace, turning to glance at the dull sky. +"It's only getting ready."</p> + +<p>Enthusiastic Henrietta, that odd mixture +of extreme youth and premature age, was all +impatience to see Rosa Marie. She had +telephoned her grandmother to ask permission +to spend the day with her new friends, +and now she was eager to add Rosa Marie to +the list. It was easy to see that she was expecting +to behold something very choice in +the line of babies. Jean was tempted to undeceive +her, but loyalty to Marjory kept her +silent.</p> + +<p>"A baby," breathed Henrietta, rapturously, +"is the loveliest thing in all the world. +<i>Isn't</i> it most two o'clock? Wait, I'll look +at my watch—Mercy! I forgot to wind +it!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hark!" said Jean, "I think I hear the +girls. Yes, I do."</p> + +<p>"Get on your things," commanded Marjory, +opening the door. "Bettie stopped to +feed the cat, sew a button on Dick, wash +Peter's face, tie up her father's finger and +hook her mother's dress, but she's here at +last and we're to pick up Mabel on the way +because Dr. Bennett called her back to wash +her face."</p> + +<p>"We mustn't stay too long," warned Jean, +glancing at the dull sky. "It looks as if it +would get dark early."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Crane was glad to see her visitors +and appeared delighted to add a new girl to +her collection of youthful friends.</p> + +<p>"You and Jean are just of a size," said +she.</p> + +<p>"And about the same age," added Bettie, +who had always regretted the two years' difference +in her age and Jean's. "I wish <i>I</i> +were as old as that."</p> + +<p>"Aren't you afraid," blundered well-meaning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +Mrs. Crane, turning to Bettie, +"that she'll cut you out? You and Jean +have always been as thick as thieves. Don't +you let this pretty Henrietta steal your Jean +away from you."</p> + +<p>Bettie, dear little unselfish soul, had +hitherto been conscious of no such fear, but +now her big brown eyes were troubled. +This new possibility was alarming.</p> + +<p>"We'd like to see Rosa Marie," said Marjory. +"Is she well?"</p> + +<p>"She has a bad cold," returned Mrs. +Crane, shaking her head, sorrowfully. +"I've just been looking through my books, +and in the very first one I found more than +twenty-five fatal diseases that begin with a +bad cold."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you find <i>any</i> that folks ever get +over?" suggested Jean, comfortingly.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," replied Mrs. Crane, brightening. +"I've known of folks pulling through +at least twenty-four of them. But there's +one thing. You won't like Rosa Marie's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +clothes to-day. They're—they're sort of an +accident."</p> + +<p>"An accident?" questioned Bettie. +"What happened?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you see, I ordered her a ready-made +dress out of a catalogue. It sounded +very promising but—Well, it's <i>warm</i>, but I +guess that's about all you can say for it. I'll +take you to the nursery; I have to keep her +out of drafts."</p> + +<p>Rosa Marie, well and becomingly clad, +would hardly have captured a prize in a +beauty show, even with very little competition. +Poor little Rosa Marie, suffering with +a severe cold, appeared a most unlovable object. +Her eyes were dull and all but invisible, +her nose and lips were red and swollen +and her wide mouth seemed even larger +than usual. The catalogue dress was more +than an accident; it was an out and out +calamity. Its gorgeous red and green plaid +was marked off like a city map in regular +squares with a startling stripe of yellow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +Moreover, the alarming garment was a distressingly +tight fit.</p> + +<p>"It looked," sighed Mrs. Crane, apologetically, +"as pretty as you please in that book; +but of course nobody would <i>think</i> of buying +such goods as that <i>outside</i> a catalogue. But +Rosa Marie liked it."</p> + +<p>After the first glance, however, the Cottagers +did not look at Rosa Marie or the +hideous plaid. They gazed instead at Henrietta's +speaking countenance. Having led +their new friend to expect something entirely +different in the way of infantile charms, they +wanted to enjoy her surprise; but strangely +enough they did not. It was evident that +something was wrong with their plan.</p> + +<p>The bright, expectant look faded suddenly +from the sparkling black eyes. All the +animation fled swiftly from the girlish countenance. +Two large tears rolled down Henrietta's +cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she mourned, "I was <i>so</i> lonely for +a real, dear little baby."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dear me," sighed penitent Jean, "we +thought you'd enjoy the joke. We saw at +once that you supposed that Rosa Marie was +an ordinary child—a nice little pink and +white creature in long clothes. It seemed +such a good chance to get even that we——"</p> + +<p>"It was my fault," apologized Marjory. +"I <i>tried</i> to fool you. I never thought you'd +<i>care</i>."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," said offended Mabel, stiffly, +"that you don't like Rosa Marie. She's +much more interesting than a common baby, +and I think, when I picked her out——"</p> + +<p>"It isn't that," said Henrietta, smiling +through her tears. "You see, I had a baby +cousin in England that I just hated to leave—Oh, +the sweetest, daintiest little-girl baby—and +she'll be all grown up and gone before +I ever see her again. I simply adored that +baby."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," soothed Bettie, generously. +"We've any number of real babies +at our house and three of them are small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +enough to cuddle. And even the littlest one +is big enough to be played with."</p> + +<p>"What an accommodating family," said +Henrietta, wiping her eyes. "I guess +they'll make up for this remarkable infant."</p> + +<p>"Rosa Marie certainly isn't looking her +best to-day," admitted Jean, "but you'll +really find her very interesting when you +know her better. But she never does appeal +to strangers—we've found <i>that</i> out."</p> + +<p>"And just now," said Bettie, "she's +surely a sight; but when you've seen her in +the cunning little Indian costume that Mr. +Black bought for her you'll really like her."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said Henrietta, doubtfully.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXII<br /> + +<small>A Full Afternoon</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>"NOW," said Mrs. Crane, with a note +of pride in her tone, "I want to +show you what Peter Black's been doing <i>this</i> +time. It's in the library."</p> + +<p>The interested girls followed Mrs. Crane +into the cozy, book-lined room. Mr. Black's +purchases were apt to be worth seeing, for, +now that he had a family after so many +years of solitude, he was spending his money +lavishly. And he delighted in surprising his +elderly sister with unusual gifts.</p> + +<p>"There," said Mrs. Crane, pointing to a +square cabinet of polished wood. "What +do you think of that! Can you guess what +it is?"</p> + +<p>"I think," replied Jean, "it's a cupboard +for your very prettiest tea-cups—the ones +that are too nice to use."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> think," said Marjory, "that it's a fire-proof +safe to keep Rosa Marie's plaid dress +in, so it won't set the house afire."</p> + +<p>"I guess," said Bettie, "it's some sort of +a refrigerator to use on Sundays only."</p> + +<p>"It looks to me," ventured Mabel, "like a +cage with a monkey in it. I've seen them in +processions, only they were fancier."</p> + +<p>"I <i>know</i> what it is," said Henrietta, "because +we have one like it, but ours isn't as +nice as this."</p> + +<p>"Now turn your backs," requested Mrs. +Crane.</p> + +<p>In another moment the girls were listening +to a delightful concert. Wonderful +music was pouring from the polished cabinet.</p> + +<p>"I was the nearest right," asserted Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Why!" objected Bettie, "you said it +was a monkey—monkeys don't sing."</p> + +<p>"I was right, just the same. It's a hand +organ, and everybody knows that a monkey's +pretty near the same thing."</p> + +<p>The girls laughed, for Mabel, who was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +usually wrong, always insisted obstinately +that she was right.</p> + +<p>"It's a phonograph," explained Henrietta, +"and the very best one I ever heard."</p> + +<p>"It's a whole brass band," breathed Bettie.</p> + +<p>"I knew it was good," said Mrs. Crane, +contentedly, "for Peter refused to tell what +he paid for it."</p> + +<p>It took a long time for the phonograph to +give up all that was inside its polished case, +and before the entertainment was quite over +Mr. Black came in.</p> + +<p>Bettie, eager to display her new acquaintance, +hardly waited to greet him before introducing +Henrietta. It was a pleasure, as +well as a novelty, to have so attractive a +friend to present.</p> + +<p>"This," said Bettie, proudly but a little +flustered, "is my hen, Frenriet—I mean, my +hen——"</p> + +<p>Bettie turned scarlet and stopped. The +girls shrieked with delight. Mrs. Crane +laughed till she cried. Mr. Black's roars of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +laughter drowned the phonograph's best +effort.</p> + +<p>"I'm <i>not</i> your hen," giggled Henrietta. +"Not even your chicken. This settles <i>that</i> +name—I can't risk being mistaken for any +more poultry."</p> + +<p>"She's Henrietta Bedford," explained +Jean, wiping her eyes.</p> + +<p>"And how long," teased Mr. Black, +"have you been keeping poultry, Miss Bettykins?"</p> + +<p>"About two weeks," giggled Bettie. +"She's Mrs. Slater's granddaughter."</p> + +<p>"I don't like to seem inhospitable," said +Mr. Black, a few moments later, "but it's +beginning to snow, and the weather's going +to be a good deal worse before it gets any +better. If you start now, you'll be home +before the snow begins to drift—there's a +strong north wind and the thermometer's a +bit down-hearted."</p> + +<p>The girls had removed their wraps and it +took time to get into them. Also, Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +Crane, noticing that the girls were dressed +for mild weather, detained them while she +hunted up a silk handkerchief to wrap about +Marjory's throat, a veil to tie over Bettie's +ears and some warmer gloves for Jean. +Henrietta and Mabel refused to be bundled +up.</p> + +<p>The outside air was many degrees colder +than it had been two hours earlier, and was +full of flying snow. The wind came in +gusts, yet there was something bracing and +stimulating about the stirring atmosphere, +particularly to Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried she, "this is fine! Why +can't we take a long walk? It's a shame to +hurry home. I just love this. Isn't there +somebody we can go to see? Hasn't anybody +an errand?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," said Mabel, doubtfully. "We +could go down to Mrs. Malony's. Mother +told me this morning to get her bill, and I +forgot all about it."</p> + +<p>"Mabel always has a few forgotten errands<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +laid away," teased Marjory. "She +can show you, too, where she found Rosa +Marie—it's down that way."</p> + +<p>"I hope," said Henrietta, making a comical +grimace, "that there's no danger of finding +any more like her. But let's go. It's a +shame to miss any of this."</p> + +<p>Going down the long hill toward Mrs. +Malony's was entirely delightful, for the +wind, of which there was a great deal, was +at their well-protected backs; they fairly +scudded before it, laughing joyously as they +were swept along almost on a run. Going +westward at the bottom of the hill was not +so very bad either, for here the road was +somewhat sheltered, though the snow was +much deeper than the girls had expected to +find it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Malony, the garrulous egg-woman, +was at home; she expressed her surprise and +delight at the advent of so many unexpected +visitors.</p> + +<p>"'Tis mesilf thot's glad to see so manny<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +purty faces," said she, flying about to find +chairs. "'Tis the lovely complexion you +have to-day, Miss Jean. An' who's the little +lady wid the rosy cheek? The gran'choild +av Mrs. Lady Slater—wud ye hark to thot +now! An' how's Bettie darlin' wid all her +purty smiles? Thot's good—thot's good. +An' Miss Mabel here—sure she's the fat +wan——"</p> + +<p>"Mother," explained Mabel, with dignity, +"would like her egg-bill."</p> + +<p>"Bill, is ut?" replied Mrs. Malony, graciously. +"Sure there's no hurry at all, at all. +The sooner it comes the sooner 'tis spint. +Ah, well, if you're afther insistin' [no one +<i>had</i> insisted] joost count the banes in me +owld taypot. Ivery wan stands fer wan +dozen eggs at twinty-foive cints the dozen."</p> + +<p>"Thirteen beans," announced Jean, who +had counted them several times to make +certain.</p> + +<p>"Sure," persuaded smooth-tongued Mrs. +Malony, "you'd best be takin' wan more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +dozen, Miss Mabel. 'Twould be sore unlucky +to stop wid t'irteen."</p> + +<p>While she was counting the eggs, Mr. +Malony, redolent of the stable and bearing +two steaming pails of milk, came into the +kitchen. Mrs. Malony, beaming with hospitality, +went hastily to the cupboard, brought +forth five exceedingly thick cups, filled them +with milk and passed them to her dismayed +guests.</p> + +<p>Some persons like warm milk, fresh from +the cow, with the cow-smell overshadowing +all other flavors. Mrs. Malony's visitors did +not. They were too polite to say so, however, +so there they sat, five martyrs to +courtesy, sipping the distasteful milk. It +clogged their throats, it made them feel +queerly upset inside, but still, solely out of +politeness, they continued to sip.</p> + +<p>"Take bigger swallows," advised Mabel, +in a smothered whisper.</p> + +<p>"I cuk—can't," breathed Bettie.</p> + +<p>Mr. Malony had left the room. Presently,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +Mrs. Malony, in search of a basket for the +eggs, stooped to rummage in the untidy +recess beneath the cupboard. Quick as a +wink, Henrietta emptied her cup into the +original pail, but the other unfortunates were +left to struggle with their unwelcome refreshment. +Henrietta, however, gained +nothing by her trick, for the egg-woman, +discovering that her cup was empty, +promptly refilled it, much to the amusement +of the other victims.</p> + +<p>Henrietta, discovering their state of mind, +was moved to defiance. Lifting her cup, +with a determined glint in her black eyes, +she drank every drop in four courageous, +continuous gulps. In a twinkling, the other +girls had imitated her example and were declining +Mrs. Malony's pressing offer of +more milk.</p> + +<p>"Joost a wee sup," pleaded Mrs. Malony, +reaching for Jean's cup.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," said Jean, rising hastily. +"We ought to be getting home."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> + +<p>Getting home, however, proved a different +matter from getting away from +home. After escaping Mrs. Malony's insistent +hospitality, the girls waded across the +snowy street and out toward the point to see +if Rosa Marie's home were still there. The +door hung from one hinge and snow had +drifted, and was still drifting, in at the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Do you think," asked Henrietta, gazing +at the deserted house, "that Rosa Marie's +mother will ever come back?"</p> + +<p>"No," returned Jean.</p> + +<p>"Not to any such homely baby as that," +declared Marjory.</p> + +<p>"She <i>will</i> come back," asserted Mabel, +loyally. "She loved Rosa Marie—I saw it +in her eyes."</p> + +<p>"Looks don't matter, with mothers," +soothed Bettie. "A cat likes a homely yellow +kitten as well as a lovely white one. +And Dick has more freckles than Bob, but +Mother likes him just as well."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Rosa Marie's mother stood right in that +doorway," said Mabel, "and, as long as I +could see her, her eyes were stretching out +after Rosa Marie."</p> + +<p>"They must have stuck out on pegs like a +lobster's," giggled Henrietta, "by the +time you reached the corner."</p> + +<p>"I think you're <i>mean</i>," muttered Mabel.</p> + +<p>"I repent," apologized Henrietta. "For +a moment I relapsed into Frederika, the Disguised +Duchess; but now I'm your own +kind-hearted Sallie and I wish that my toes +were as warm as my affections. Let's start +for civilization—we seem to have the world +to ourselves. Doesn't anybody else like +snow, I wonder?"</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> + +<small>Taking a Walk</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>"PHEW!" gasped Jean, wheeling as the +north wind, sweeping round the corner, +caught her square in the face. "I don't +think much of that! It's like ice."</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" groaned Marjory, "I wish I'd +stayed home."</p> + +<p>"Mercy!" gulped Henrietta, "it's blowing +my skin off."</p> + +<p>After that, no one had very much to say. +The girls needed their breath for other purposes. +With heads down and jackets pulled +tightly about them, they started up the long +hill with the wind in their faces. It was +not a pleasant wind. Cold and cutting, it +flung icy particles of snow against their +cheeks, nipped their unprotected ears, stung +their fingers and found the thin places in +their garments. It rushed down their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +throats when they opened their mouths to +speak, wrapped their petticoats so tightly +about them that they had to keep unwinding +themselves in order to walk at all, heaped +the whirling snow in drifts and filled the air +so full of flakes that it was only between +gusts that the houses were visible. Worst +of all, the way was very much uphill, and +Mabel, besides being short of breath, was +burdened with the basket of eggs. The +snow seemed to take a delight in piling itself +directly in front of them.</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" gasped Henrietta, "I wish my +stockings were fur-lined. They thawed out +in Mrs. Malony's and now they're frozen +stiff. I don't like 'em."</p> + +<p>"Mine, too," panted Mabel.</p> + +<p>"And all my skirts," groaned Marjory. +"The edges are like saws and they're scraping +my knees."</p> + +<p>"How do you like a real storm?" queried +Jean, steering Henrietta through a mighty +drift.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not so well as I thought I should," admitted +Henrietta. "I miss my blizzard +clothes."</p> + +<p>The streets, when the girls finally reached +the top of the hill, were deserted. Even the +sides of the houses looked like solid walls of +snow, for the wind had hurled the big flakes +in gigantic handfuls against the buildings +until they were all nicely coated with a thick +frosting; and so, all the world was white. +And, by the time the five girls reached Jean's +house, for they finally accomplished that +difficult feat, they, too, were nicely plastered +from head to heels with the clinging snow. +They looked like animated snow men as +they piled thankfully into Mrs. Mapes's +parlor.</p> + +<p>The girls themselves were warm and +glowing from the unusual exercise, but their +stockings and cotton skirts were frozen stiff.</p> + +<p>"Henrietta will simply have to stay all +night," said Mrs. Mapes, discovering the +wet stockings. "I sent the coachman home<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +half an hour ago for the sake of the horses. +I'll telephone Mrs. Slater that you're safe. +You other girls must go home at once and +change your clothes before they thaw. And, +Jean, you and Henrietta must get into bed +at once. I'll bring you a hot supper inside +of five minutes."</p> + +<p>"That'll be fun," declared Jean, seizing +Henrietta's hand and making for the stairs. +"Good-night, girls."</p> + +<p>"I guess," said Marjory, when the +Mapes's door had closed behind Bettie, +Mabel and herself, "Jean and Henrietta are +going to be great chums."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid so," sighed Bettie. "I like +Henrietta; but, dear me, I don't want Jean +to like her better than she does me."</p> + +<p>"She won't," comforted Marjory. "Henrietta's +all right for a little while at a time, +but you're <i>always</i> nice."</p> + +<p>Thanks to Mrs. Mapes's instructions, +none of the girls caught cold; but their +mothers were so afraid that they might that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +not one of them was permitted to poke her +nose out of doors the next day. To Henrietta's +delight, the drifts reached the fence +tops; and, until a huge plow, drawn by six +horses arranged in pairs, had cleared the +way, the roads were impassable. The wind, +after raging furiously all night, had quieted +down; but the snow continued to fall in big, +soft, clinging flakes, every tree and shrub +was weighted down with a heavy burden +and all the world was white. To Henrietta, +who had never before seen snow in such +abundance, it was a most pleasing spectacle.</p> + +<p>Bettie, however, was sorely troubled. +There was Jean shut in with attractive Henrietta +and getting "chummier" with her +every minute. There was Bettie, a solitary +prisoner in a fuzzy red wrapper and bed +slippers, sighing for her beloved Jean. To +be sure, Bettie had brothers of assorted sizes +and complexions, but not one of them could +fill Jean's place in Bettie's troubled affections.</p> + +<p>Had Bettie but known it, however, Jean<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +was not having an entirely comfortable day. +It happened to be one of Henrietta's "Frederika" +days. The lively girl tormented +bashful Wallace by pretending that she herself +was excessively shy, and, as shyness was +not one of her attributes, her victim was +covered with confusion. She teased and +bewildered Roger by chattering so rapidly +in French that he couldn't understand a +word she said, although he had studied the +language for three years under Miss McGinnis +and was proud of his progress. A +number of times she became so witty at +Jean's expense that "Sallie" had to rush to +the rescue with profuse apologies. Also, +she disturbed both Mr. and Mrs. Mapes by +her extreme restlessness.</p> + +<p>"My sakes," confided Mrs. Mapes, in the +privacy of the kitchen, whither she had fled +for the sake of quiet, "I'm glad that girl +doesn't belong to me; she isn't still a +minute."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said Roger, who had escaped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +on the pretext of blacking his shoes, "it's +because she has traveled so much. Maybe +she feels as if she had to keep going."</p> + +<p>"Bettie's certainly a great deal quieter," +agreed Jean, who looked tired, "and she +doesn't talk all night when a body wants to +sleep; but Henrietta's more fun. You see, +you never know what she's going to do next, +but Bettie's always just the same."</p> + +<p>At dinner time that day, Mrs. Mapes +asked her husband if he knew whether the +School Board had accomplished anything at +the meeting held the night previously.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Mr. Mapes, a tall, thin +man with a preoccupied air. "And they +never will as long as each one of them wants +to put that schoolhouse in a different place. +They can't come to any sort of an agreement."</p> + +<p>Indeed, the poor School Board was having +a perplexing time. The citizens that +lived at the north end of the town wanted +the new school built there. Other tax-payers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +declared that the southern portion of +Lakeville, being more densely populated, +offered a more suitable site. Then, since +the town stretched westward for a long distance, +a third group of persons were clamoring +for the building in <i>their</i> part of the town. +Besides all these, there were persons who declared +that the old site was the <i>only</i> place +for a school building. As the Board itself +was divided as to opinion, it began to look +as if Lakeville would have to get along without +a schoolhouse unless it could afford to +build four, and the tax-payers said it +couldn't do that.</p> + +<p>"I wish," said Mrs. Mapes, "that I could +find a first-class girls' school within a reasonable +distance. If they don't have a proper +building in Lakeville by next September I'll +send Jean away. That Baptist cellar is +damp, and I know it. Besides, I went to a +good boarding school myself and I'd like +Jean to have the experience—I'll never forget +those days."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Send her," suggested Henrietta, "to the +school I'm going to."</p> + +<p>"Which one is that?" asked Mrs. Mapes.</p> + +<p>"I don't know; but Grandmother says it +mustn't be too far away. She wants me +within reach."</p> + +<p>"I think," said Mrs. Mapes, reflectively, +"I'll send for some catalogues."</p> + +<p>The next morning the sun shone brightly +on a glittering world. Henrietta went into +ecstasies over it, for even the tree trunks +seemed incrusted with diamonds—or at least +rhine-stones, Henrietta said. The coachman +arrived with the Slater horses a little +before nine o'clock and the two girls were +carried off to school in state. They waved +their hands to Bettie as they passed her +trudging in the snow; and poor Bettie was +suddenly conscious of a sharp twinge of +jealousy.</p> + +<p>Now that Henrietta had been properly +called on and had returned the call, she became +a permanent part of all the Cottagers'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +plans. Thereafter, there was hardly a day +when one or another of the four girls did +not see the fascinating maid of many names. +They always found her interesting, attractive +and entertaining. Yet, there were days +when she teased them almost to the limit of +their endurance, times when they could not +quite approve her and moments when she +fairly roused them to anger; but, in spite of +her faults, they could not help loving her, +because, with all her impishness and her +distressing lack of repose, she was warm-hearted, +loyal and thoroughly true. And, +although she possessed dozens of advantages +that the other girls lacked, although she was +beautifully gowned, splendidly housed and +bountifully supplied with spending money, +never did she show, in any way, the faintest +scrap of false pride. She mentioned her life +abroad, in a simple, matter-of-fact way (as +if it were a mere incident that might have +happened to anybody), but never in any +boasting spirit. Her prankishness, however,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +kept her from being too good or too +lovable; for, as her Grandmother said, she +spared no one; sometimes even Jean, who +was a model of patience, found it hard to +forgive fun-loving Frederika, the Disguised +Duchess.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> + +<small>The Statue from India</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>ALL the shops in Lakeville wore a holiday +air, for money was plentiful and +trade was unusually brisk. The windows +were gay with wreaths of holly and glittering +strings of Christmas-tree ornaments. +Clerks were busy and smiling. Customers, +alert for bargains, crowded about the counters +and parted cheerfully from their cash. +Persons in the streets, laden with parcels of +every shape, size and color, pushed eagerly +through the doors or hurried along the busy +thoroughfares. All wore an air of eager +expectancy, for two weeks of December +were gone and Christmas was fairly scrambling +into sight.</p> + +<p>The five girls had money to spend. Very +little of it, to be sure, belonged to the Cottagers; +but Henrietta had a great deal, and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +as they all went together on their shopping +expeditions, it didn't matter very much, as +far as enjoyment went, who did the purchasing. +Bettie said that it was quite as much +fun to help Henrietta pick out a five-dollar +scarf pin for Simmons, the butler, as it was +to choose ten-cent paper weights for Bob +and Dick. Besides, no one was obliged to +go home empty-handed, because it took all +five to carry Henrietta's purchases.</p> + +<p>All five were making things besides. +Sometimes they sewed at Jean's, sometimes +at Henrietta's, occasionally at Marjory's and +once in a while at Mabel's. They liked least +of all to go to Marjory's because Aunty +Jane, who was a wonderfully particular +housekeeper, objected to their walking on +her hardwood floors and seemed equally +averse to having them step on the rugs. As +they couldn't very well use the ceiling or feel +entirely comfortable under the battery of +Aunty Jane's disapproving glances, they +liked to go where they were more warmly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +welcomed. Perhaps Henrietta's once-dreaded +home was the most popular place, +though in that fascinating abode they could +not accomplish a great deal in the sewing +line because Henrietta invariably produced +such a bewildering array of unusual belongings +to show them that their eyes kept busier +than their fingers. In another way, however, +they accomplished a great deal. Henrietta, +who was really very clever with her +needle, had started at one time or another a +great many different articles. These, in +their half-finished condition—the changeable +girl was much better at beginning things +than at completing them—she lavishly bestowed +on her friends. Lovely flowered +ribbons, dainty bits of silk and lace, curious +scraps of Japanese and Chinese embroidery, +embossed leather and rich brocades, all these +found their way into the Cottagers' work-bags.</p> + +<p>Out of these fascinating odds and ends +they fashioned gifts for Mrs. Crane, Anne<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +Halliday's mother, their out-of-town relatives, +their parents and their school-teachers. +They wanted, of course, to buy every toy +that ever was made for Rosa Marie, little +Anne Halliday, Peter Tucker and the Marcotte +twins; but Mr. Black, meeting them in +the toy-shop one day, implored them to leave +just a few things in the shops for him to +buy, particularly for Rosa Marie and little +Peter Tucker, his namesake.</p> + +<p>And now, Mabel was immensely pleased +with Henrietta; for, one day, Rosa Marie, +cured of her cold, had been dressed in her +cunning little Indian costume for the new +girl's benefit. Rosa Marie had looked so +very much more attractive than when she +had had a cold that Henrietta had been +greatly taken with her. As the way to +Mabel's affections was through approval of +Rosa Marie, Henrietta quickly found it, so +the threatened breach was healed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Crane," Henrietta had cried, +on beholding the little brown person in buckskin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +and feathers, "do let me telephone for +James to bring the carriage so I can take +Rosa Marie to our house and show her to +my Grandmother. I'll take the very best of +care of her. And all four of the girls can +come with her, so she won't be afraid."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>do</i>," pleaded the others.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's mild out to-day," returned +Mrs. Crane, glancing out the window, "and +a little fresh air won't hurt her. I guess her +coat will go on right over these fixings and +I can tie a veil over her head. You'll find a +telephone in the library, on Mr. Black's +desk."</p> + +<p>Half an hour later, the six youngsters, +carefully tucked between splendid fur robes, +were on their way to Mrs. Slater's.</p> + +<p>"I have a perfectly heavenly plan," said +Henrietta, her black eyes sparkling with +impishness. "Want to hear it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course we do," encouraged the Cottagers.</p> + +<p>"You see," explained Henrietta, "a large<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +box came from Father this morning. It +hasn't been opened yet; but Greta and Simmons +don't know that. I'm going to make +them think that Rosa Marie is what came in +that box—it's time I cheered them up a little, +for Simmons has lost some money he had in +the bank and Greta is homesick for the old +country. Will you help?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," promised Jean, doubtfully, "if +you're not going to hurt anybody's feelings."</p> + +<p>"Shan't even scratch one," assured Henrietta. +"Now, when we reach the house, +I'll slip around to the basement door with +Rosa Marie—the cook will let us in—and +you must ring the front-door bell because +that will take Simmons out of the way while +I get up the back stairs. Ask for Grandmother, +and I'll come down and get you +when I'm ready."</p> + +<p>So the girls asked for Mrs. Slater—every +one of them now liked the entertaining old +lady very much indeed—and chatted with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +her merrily until Henrietta came running +down the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Grannie," asked the lively girl, pressing +her warm red cheek against Mrs. Slater's +much paler one, "would you like to be +amused? Would you like to be a black +conspirator and humble your most haughty +servitor to the dust? Then you must ascend +to my haunted den and not say a single +word for at least five minutes. Come on, +girls."</p> + +<p>In Henrietta's oddly furnished room there +were two large East Indian gods and one +heathen goddess. Henrietta had managed +to group these interesting, Oriental figures +in one corner of the spacious chamber, with +appropriate drapings behind them. Near +them she had placed an empty packing case, +oblong in shape and plastered with curious, +foreign labels. It looked as if it were waiting +to be carried away to the furnace room +or some such place.</p> + +<p>Darkening her bedroom and her dressing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +room, she placed her obliging grandmother +and her four friends behind the heavy +portières.</p> + +<p>"You can peek round the edges," said she, +"but you mustn't be seen or heard or even +suspected."</p> + +<p>Then, fun-loving Henrietta brought Rosa +Marie from another room, removed her +wraps, concealed them from sight and placed +the stolid child in a sitting posture on a large +tabouret near one of the richly colored +statues. Next she rang for Greta, and ran +downstairs in person to ask Simmons to +come at once to remove the heavy packing +case.</p> + +<p>Simmons obeyed immediately and just as +the pair reached Henrietta's door, Greta, +who had been in her own room, joined them. +All three entered together.</p> + +<p>"Don't you want to see my lovely new +statue?" asked Henrietta. "There, with +the rest of my heathen friends."</p> + +<p>"Ho," said Simmons, leaning closer to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +look. "<i>That's</i> wot came in that 'eavy box. +Another 'eathen god from Hindia."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 310px;"> +<img src="images/i0258.jpg" width="310" height="500" alt="maid and butler looking at baby in native costume" /> +<div class="caption">"ANOTHER 'EATHEN GOD FROM HINDIA."</div> +</div> + +<p>"He ees very pretty god-lady, Miss Henrietta," +approved Greta. "Looks most like +real."</p> + +<p>Rosa Marie, awed by her strange surroundings, +played her part most beautifully. +For a long moment she sat perfectly still. +But, just as Simmons leaned forward to take +a better look at her, Rosa Marie, who had +suddenly caught a whiff of pungent smoke +from the joss-sticks that Henrietta had +lighted to create a proper atmosphere for +her gods and goddesses, gave a sudden +sneeze. The effect was all that could be +desired. Simmons leaped backward and +Greta, who was excitable, gave a piercing +shriek.</p> + +<p>The hidden girls restrained their giggles, +but only with difficulty; and Bettie said +afterwards that she could feel Mrs. Slater +shaking with helpless laughter.</p> + +<p>"My heye!" exclaimed Simmons, "wot'll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +they be mykin' next! Look! Hit's movin' +'is 'ead."</p> + +<p>Rosa Marie proceeded deliberately to +move more than her head. Putting both +hands on the tabouret, she managed somehow +to lift herself clumsily to all-fours, +balancing uncertainly for several moments +in that ungainly attitude. Then she rose to +her feet, and, stiffly, like some mechanical +toy, stretched out her arms toward Henrietta. +Greta backed hastily through the +doorway; but Simmons eyed the swaying +youngster with enlightened eyes.</p> + +<p>"Hit's a real biby, from Hindia," said he, +"but think of hit comin' hall that wy in that +there box. But them Indoos 'ave a lot of +queer tricks and Hi suppose they drugged +'im, mide a bloomin' mummy of 'im and sent +directions for bringin' of 'im to."</p> + +<p>"Take the box downstairs, please," said +Henrietta, succeeding in the difficult task of +keeping her face straight. "This is a little +North Indian from Lakeville, Simmons, not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +an East Indian from India, and it was only +some things that I'm not to look at till Christmas +that came in the box."</p> + +<p>"Hi <i>thought</i> hit was mighty stringe," returned +Simmons, looking very much relieved +and not at all resentful. "Hit seemed +sort of hawful, Miss 'Enrietta, to think as +'ow 'uman bein's could tike such chances +with heven their hown hoffsprings. But, +just the sime, Miss 'Enrietta, Hi've 'eard of +them 'Indoos doing mighty queer things, +and Hi, for one, don't trust 'em."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXV<br /> + +<small>Comparing Notes</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>IT was eight o'clock, the morning of the +twenty-fourth day of December, which +is twice as exciting a day as the twenty-fifth +and at least ten times as interesting as the +twenty-sixth.</p> + +<p>Bettie, and as many of the little Tuckers +as had been able to find enough clothes for +decency, were eating pancakes a great deal +faster than Mrs. Tucker could bake them +over the Rectory stove. Marjory, her young +countenance somewhat puckered because of +the tartness of her grapefruit, was sitting +sedately opposite her Aunty Jane. Jean had +finished her breakfast and was tying mysterious +tissue paper parcels with narrow +scarlet ribbon; and Mabel, having suddenly +remembered that this was the day that the +postman brought interesting mail, was hurrying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +with might and main to get into her +sailor blouse in order to capture the letters. +Of course she didn't expect to open any of +her Christmas mail; but she did like to +squeeze the packages. Henrietta was reading +a long, delightful letter from her father. +Mrs. Slater, too, had Christmas letters.</p> + +<p>Five blocks away Mr. Black and Mrs. +Crane were finishing their breakfast. Their +dining-room was at the back of the house, +where its three broad windows commanded +a fine view of the lake. Just at the top of +the bluff and well inside the Black-Crane +yard stood a wonderfully handsome fir tree, +a truly splendid tree, for in all Lakeville there +was no other evergreen to compare with it in +size, shape or color.</p> + +<p>Every now and again, Mr. Black would +turn in his chair to gaze earnestly out the +window at the tree. For a long time, Mrs. +Crane, her nice dark eyes dancing with fun, +watched her brother in silence. But when +he began to consume the last quarter of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +second piece of toast she felt that it was time +to speak.</p> + +<p>"Peter," said she, "you can't do it."</p> + +<p>"Do what?" asked Mr. Black, with a +guilty start.</p> + +<p>"Cut down that tree. I know, just as +well as I know anything, that you're just +aching to make that splendid big evergreen +into a Christmas-tree for Rosa Marie and +those four girls."</p> + +<p>"<i>How</i> do you know it?" queried Mr. +Black, eying his sister with quick suspicion.</p> + +<p>"Because I had the same thought myself. +It <i>would</i> be fine for Christmas—it looks like +a Christmas-tree every day of the year. +And if you've been a sort of bottled-up +Santa Claus all your life you're apt to be +pretty foolish when you're finally unbottled. +And that tree——"</p> + +<p>"But," queried Mr. Black, "what would +it be the day after?"</p> + +<p>"That," confessed Mrs. Crane, "is what +bothers <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It does seem a shame," said Mr. Black, +rising and walking to the window, "to cut +down such a perfect specimen as that; and +yet, in all my life I never met a tree so evidently +designed for the express purpose of +serving as a Christmas-tree. It's a real +temptation."</p> + +<p>"I know it," sighed Mrs. Crane. "It's +been tempting <i>me</i>; but I said: 'Get thee behind +me, Santa Claus, and send me to the +proper place for Christmas-trees.'"</p> + +<p>"And did you go to that place?"</p> + +<p>"It came to me. I engaged a twelve-foot +tree from a man that was taking orders +at the door."</p> + +<p>"So did I," confessed Mr. Black. "I'm +not sure that I didn't order two."</p> + +<p>"Peter Black! You're spoiling those +children."</p> + +<p>"I'm having plenty of help," twinkled +Mr. Black, shrewdly.</p> + +<p>With so many trees to choose from, it +certainly seemed probable that the Black-Crane<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +household would have at least one +respectable specimen to decorate; but half +an hour later, when the three ordered balsams +arrived, both Mr. Black and Mrs. +Crane were greatly disappointed. The trees +had shrunk from twelve to six feet, and the +uneven branches were thin and sparsely +covered.</p> + +<p>"Why!" exclaimed Mr. Black, "all three +of those trees together wouldn't make a +whole tree."</p> + +<p>"They look," said Mrs. Crane, "as if +they were shedding their feathers."</p> + +<p>"Most of them," agreed Mr. Black, +"have already been shed. I said, Mr. Man, +that I wanted <i>good</i> trees."</p> + +<p>"My wagon broke down," explained the +tree-man, "so I couldn't bring anything that +I couldn't haul on a big sled. They weigh a +lot, those big fellows."</p> + +<p>"Can't you make a special trip," suggested +Mrs. Crane, "and bring us a first-class +tree—just one?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's too late. I have to go too far before +I'm allowed to cut any."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Black, "I'll pay you for +these, and I'll give you fifty cents extra to +haul them off the premises. We don't want +any such sorrowful specimens round here to +cast a gloom over our Christmas, do we, +Sarah?"</p> + +<p>"Peter," announced Mrs. Crane, when +the man had departed with his scraggly +trees, "I have an idea. The weather's +likely to stay mild for another twenty-four +hours, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"And this is an honest town?"</p> + +<p>"As honest as they make 'em."</p> + +<p>"And all those girls are accustomed to +being outdoors——"</p> + +<p>"I <i>see</i>!" cried Mr. Black, giving Mrs. +Crane's plump shoulders a sudden, friendly +whack. "I <i>almost</i> thought of that myself. +We'll certainly surprise 'em <i>this</i> time."</p> + +<p>Although it was getting late, Mr. Black<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +still hung about the house as if he had not +yet freed his mind of Christmas matters.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," said Mr. Black, breaking a +long silence, "that you've thought of a few +things to put on the tree for those girls?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," admitted Mrs. Crane, guardedly, +"I've gathered up some little fixings that I +thought they'd fancy."</p> + +<p>"It might be a good idea," said Mr. Black, +rising to ring for Martin, "for us to compare +notes. Two heads are better than one, +you know; and after what they did for us, +we owe those little folks a splendid Christmas."</p> + +<p>"We certainly do," agreed Mrs. Crane, +wiping away the sudden moisture that +sprung to her eyes at thought of the memorable +dinner party in Dandelion Cottage—the +dinner that had brought her estranged +brother to the rescue. "I don't know where +I'd have been now if it hadn't been for those +blessed children. In the poorhouse, probably."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Martin," said Mr. Black, huskily, "you +go to the storeroom in the basement. Take +a hatchet with you and knock the top off that +wooden box that is marked with a big blue +cross and bring it up here to me."</p> + +<p>Presently Martin, who always blundered +if there was the very faintest excuse for +blundering, returned, proudly bearing the +cover of the large box.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," replied Mr. Black, turning +twinkling eyes upon Mrs. Crane, who +twinkled back. "Now bring up the box +with all the things in it."</p> + +<p>"I'll get my things, too," offered Mrs. +Crane. "They're right here in the library +closet, in a clothes hamper."</p> + +<p>Then when Martin had brought the box, +the two middle-aged people began to sort +their presents. They went about it rather +awkwardly because neither had had much +experience; but they were certainly enjoying +their novel occupation.</p> + +<p>"This," said Mr. Black, clearing a space<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +on the big library table, "is Bettie's pile, and +Heaven knows that I tried not to get it bigger +than the other three; but everything I +saw in the shops shouted 'Buy me for Bettie'—and +I usually obeyed."</p> + +<p>"This is Jean's pile," said Mrs. Crane, +baring another space, "and I guess I feel +about Jean the way you do about Bettie; but +I love Bettie too—and all of them. Rosa +Marie's things will have to go on the floor—they're +mostly bumpy and breakable."</p> + +<p>Mr. Black rummaged in his box, Mrs. +Crane fished in her basket. Presently there +was a rapidly growing, untidy heap of large, +lumpy bundles on the floor for Rosa Marie, +and four very neat stacks of square, compact +parcels for the Cottagers.</p> + +<p>"Let's open them all," suggested Mr. +Black, eagerly. "We can tie them up +again."</p> + +<p>So the elderly couple, as interested as two +children, opened their packages. At first, +both were too busy renewing acquaintanceship<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +with their own purchases to notice what +the other was doing; but presently Mrs. +Crane gave a start as her eye traveled over +the table.</p> + +<p>"Why, Peter Black," she exclaimed. +"Here are two watches in Bettie's pile!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't buy but one of them," declared +Mr. Black, placing his finger on one of the +dainty timepieces. "That's mine."</p> + +<p>"The other's mine," confessed Mrs. +Crane. "And, Peter, did you go and buy +dolls all around, too?"</p> + +<p>"I did," owned Mr. Black, opening a +long narrow box. "One <i>always</i> buys dolls +for Christmas."</p> + +<p>"Well," sighed Mrs. Crane, "I guess +they can stand two apiece, because ours are +not a bit alike. You see, you got carried +away by fine clothes and I paid more attention +to the dolls themselves. The bodies are +first-class and the faces are lovely. I bought +mine undressed and I've had four weeks' +pleasure dressing them—I sort of hate to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +give them up. The clothes are plain and +substantial; I couldn't make 'em fancy."</p> + +<p>"But the watches, Sarah?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess we'll have to send half of +those watches back. Yours are the nicest—we'll +keep yours."</p> + +<p>"I suspect," said Mr. Black, reflectively +pinching two large parcels in Rosa Marie's +heap, "that we've both bought Teddy bears +for Rosa Marie. And we've both supplied +the girls with perfume, purses and writing +paper, but I don't see any books."</p> + +<p>"We'll use the extra-watch money for +books," decided Mrs. Crane, promptly. +"Suppose you attend to that—if we both do +it we'll have another double supply. I see +we've both bought candy, too; but I need a +box for the milk-boy and I'd like to send +some little thing to Martin's small sister."</p> + +<p>"On the whole," said Mr. Black, complacently, +"we've managed pretty well considering +our inexperience; but next time +we'll do better."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> + +<small>Christmas Eve</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>IN Lakeville, Christmas always began at +exactly four o'clock the afternoon of the +twenty-fourth; for the young people of that +little town—even the very old young people +with gray hair and youthful eyes—always +indulged in an unusual and extremely enjoyable +custom. The moment that marked this +real beginning of Christmas found each +person with gifts for her neighbor sallying +forth with a great basketful of parcels on +her arm. If one had a great many friends +and neighbors it often took until ten o'clock +at night to distribute all one's gifts. As +each package was wrapped in white tissue +paper, tied with ribbon and further adorned +with sprigs of holly or gay Christmas cards, +these Christmas baskets were decidedly attractive; +and the streets of Lakeville, from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +four to ten, were certain to be full of gayety +and genuine Christmas cheer.</p> + +<p>On all other days of the year, the Cottagers +traveled together; but on this occasion +each girl was an entirely separate person. +Bettie, wearing a fine air of importance, +went alone to Mabel's, to Jean's and +to Marjory's to leave her gifts for her three +friends. Although, at all other times, it was +her habit to run in unceremoniously, to-day +she rang each door-bell and was formally admitted +to each front hall, where she selected +the package designed for each house. Jean +and the other two, likewise, went forth by +themselves to leave their mysterious little +parcels. But when this rite was completed +all four ran to their own homes, added more +parcels to their gay baskets and then congregated +in Mrs. Mapes's parlor.</p> + +<p>They had gifts for dear little Anne Halliday, +the Marcotte twins, Henrietta Bedford, +Rosa Marie, Mr. Black, Mrs. Crane, some +distant cousins of Jean's and for all their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +school-teachers that had not gone out of +town for the holidays. Besides, their +parents had intrusted them with articles to +be delivered to their friends and Mabel had +a gift for the dust-chute Janitor, a silver +match-safe with the date of the fire engraved +under his initials.</p> + +<p>"We'll go to Henrietta's first," decided +Jean, "because that's the farthest."</p> + +<p>"And to the Janitor's next," said Mabel, +"because I want to get it over and forget +about it."</p> + +<p>To make things more exciting for Henrietta, +the girls went in singly to present +their offerings, the others crouching out of +sight behind the stone balustrades that +flanked the steps. Each time the bell rang, +Henrietta was right at Simmons's heels when +he opened the door. Then, after a brief +wait outside, all four again presented themselves +to invite Henrietta, who had gifts for +Rosa Marie, to go with them to Mr. Black's +and all the other places. Henrietta was glad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +to go, because she herself was too new to +Lakeville to have very many friends to favor +with presents. The five had a very merry +time with their baskets; but they were much +too excited to stay a great while under any +one roof. They shouted merry greetings to +the rest of the basket-laden population and +paused more than once to obligingly pull a +door-bell for some elderly acquaintance who +found that she needed more hands than she +had started out with.</p> + +<p>"How jolly everybody is!" remarked +Henrietta. "I never saw a more Christmassy +lot of people. It must be lovely to +have a long, long list to give to."</p> + +<p>"Father says this is an unusually nice +town," offered Bettie. "The people seem +actually glad to have folks sick and in trouble +so they can send them flowers and things to +eat."</p> + +<p>"What a charitable place," laughed +Henrietta, gaily. "I hope nobody's longing +for <i>me</i> to come down with anything.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +I'd rather stay well than eat flowers—they're +too expensive just now."</p> + +<p>"My!" exclaimed Mabel, after all the +gifts had been distributed and the girls, with +their empty baskets turned over their heads, +had started homeward, "won't to-morrow +be a lively day. First, all our stockings; very +early in the morning at home. Next, all our +Christmas packages to open—I've about ten +already that I haven't even squeezed—that +is, not <i>very</i> hard, except one that I know is a +bottle. Then our dinners——"</p> + +<p>"Too bad we can't have all our dinners +together," mourned Marjory, "but of course +your mothers and my Aunty Jane and Henrietta's +grandmother would be too lonely if +we did; and all the families in a bunch would +make too many to feed comfortably."</p> + +<p>"And then," proceeded Mabel, "a tree at +Mr. Black's just as soon as it's dark enough +to light the candles, and supper and another +tree at Henrietta's in the evening, and a ride +home in the Slater carriage afterwards, because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +by that time we'll surely be too tired to +walk."</p> + +<p>"And I've trimmed a tree for the boys at +home," said Bettie. "There won't be anything +on it for you, but you can all come to +see it."</p> + +<p>"Aunty Jane says that Christmas-trees +shed their feathers and make too much litter," +said Marjory, "but with three others +to visit I don't mind if I don't have one."</p> + +<p>"You can have half of mine," offered +Mabel, generously. "I shan't have time to +trim more than half of it, anyway, so I'd +like somebody to help."</p> + +<p>"I suppose," said Marjory, doubtfully, +"that we ought to do something for the +poor, but I don't know where to find any +since our washwoman married the butcher."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you don't," laughed Henrietta. +"I've nine cents left and it's got to last, for +I shan't have any more until I get my allowance +the first of January, unless somebody +sends me money for Christmas."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I guess," giggled Jean, fishing an empty +purse from her pocket, "the rest of us +couldn't scare up nine cents between us; but +I have an uncle who always sends me a paper +dollar every year. I've spent it in at least +fifty different ways already. I always have +lovely times with that dollar <i>before</i> it comes, +but it just sort of melts away into nothing +afterwards."</p> + +<p>"I wish," breathed Mabel, fervently, "<i>I</i> +had an uncle like that."</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Henrietta, "a few uncles +with the paper-dollar habit wouldn't be bad +things to have."</p> + +<p>"I caught a glimpse of your tree, Henrietta," +confessed Marjory. "I stood on +the balustrade outside and peeked in the window +when Jean was inside. It's going to be +perfectly grand; but of course I didn't <i>mean</i> +to peek. I just got up there because I was +too excited to stay on the ground."</p> + +<p>"So did I," owned Bettie.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," said Mabel, "where Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +Black's tree is. We were in all the downstairs +rooms and I didn't see a sign of it."</p> + +<p>"Probably," teased Henrietta, "he's forgotten +to order one. Unless one forms the +habit very early in life, one is very apt to +overlook little things like that."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Black never forgets," assured Bettie.</p> + +<p>"Probably it's some place in the yard," +ventured Marjory, not guessing how close +she came to the truth.</p> + +<p>"No," declared Mabel, positively. "I +looked out the windows and there wasn't a +single sign of a tree anywhere. I pretty +nearly asked about it, but I wasn't sure that +that would be polite."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry," soothed Jean. "There'll +<i>be</i> one if Mr. Black has to plant a seed and +grow it over night. He and Mrs. Crane are +more excited over Christmas than we are. +They can't think of anything else."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII<br /> + +<small>A Crowded Day</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>MABEL rose very early indeed on +Christmas morning to explore her +bulging stocking and to open her packages; +but Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane were even +earlier, and they were delighted to find that +the weather had remained mild. Putting on +their outside wraps and warm overshoes, the +worthy couple went with good-natured Martin +and Maggie, the nimble nursery maid, to +the garden as soon as it was light. They +strung the tall tree from top to bottom with +tinsel and glittering Christmas-tree ornaments, +the finest that money could buy. +Martin and the maid, perched on tall step-ladders, +worked enthusiastically. Mr. Black +and Mrs. Crane handed up the decorations. +The cook, watching them from the basement +window, grinned broadly at the sight.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sure," said she, "'tis a lot of children +they are; but 'twould do no harrum if all the +wurruld was loike 'em."</p> + +<p>By church time the towering tree was in +readiness except for a few of the more precious +gifts, to be added later.</p> + +<p>"I hope," said Mrs. Crane, with a lingering, +backward glance, when there was no +further excuse for remaining outdoors, +"that the air will be as quiet to-night as it +is now. It would be dreadful if we couldn't +light the candles."</p> + +<p>"We'll have to trust to luck," returned +Mr. Black, "but I'm quite sure that luck will +be with us."</p> + +<p>Of course the girls enjoyed their stockings +at home, their gifts that arrived by mail +and express from out-of-town relatives and +the bountiful dinners at the home tables. +But the Black-Crane tree to which Henrietta, +likewise, had been invited, was something +entirely new and so proved particularly enjoyable; +if not, indeed, the crowning event<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +of the day. Martin had cleared away the +snow and had laid boards and even a carpet +for them to stand on, and there were chairs +and extra wraps, only the girls were too excited +to use them. But Mrs. Crane and +placid Rosa Marie sat enveloped in steamer +rugs while the others capered about the brilliantly +lighted tree, constantly discovering +new beauties.</p> + +<p>"I declare," sighed Mrs. Crane, happily, +"you're the youngest of the lot, Peter."</p> + +<p>"Well," returned Mr. Black, "why not? +It's the first real Christmas I've had for forty +years—but let's have another Christmas dinner +on New Year's Day; I was disappointed +when all these young folks said, 'No, thank +you,' to our invitation to dinner. Just remember, +girls, we expect to see you all here +the first of January or there'll be trouble—I'll +see that it lasts all the year, too."</p> + +<p>"Peter Black," warned Mrs. Crane, "that +step-ladder's prancing on one leg. If you +go over that bluff you won't stop till you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +land in the lake. Let Martin do all the +circus acts."</p> + +<p>"I've got it, now," said Mr. Black, coming +down safely with the small parcel that +had dangled so long just above his reach. +"Here's something for Henrietta Bedford, +with the tree's compliments."</p> + +<p>"How nice of you to remember me," +cried Henrietta, opening the parcel. "And +what a dear little pin—just what I needed. +Thank you very much indeed."</p> + +<p>Of all their gifts, however, the Cottagers +liked their lovely little watches the best. +They had expected no such magnificent gifts +from Mr. Black, and their own people had, +of course, considered them much too young +to be trusted with watches.</p> + +<p>"Dear me," said Mabel, strutting about +with her timepiece pinned to her blouse, "I +feel too grown-upedy for words. I never +expected this moment to come."</p> + +<p>"I've <i>always</i> wanted a watch," breathed +Jean, "but I certainly supposed I'd have to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +wait until I'd graduated from high-school—folks +almost always get them then."</p> + +<p>"And I," beamed Marjory, "never expected +a <i>pretty</i>, really truly girl's watch, because—worse +luck—I'm to get Aunty Jane's +awful watch when she dies. Of course I don't +want her to die a minute before her time, but +getting even <i>that</i> watch seemed sort of hopeless +because all Aunty Jane's ancestors that +weren't killed by accident lived to enjoy their +nineties. But that doesn't prevent Aunty +Jane's promising me that clumsy old turnip +whenever she's particularly pleased with +me."</p> + +<p>Bettie was too delighted for speech. But +her big brown eyes spoke eloquently for her.</p> + +<p>Rosa Marie accepted the unusual tree, all +her Teddy bears, her dolls and other gifts, +very much as a matter of course. Nothing +it appeared was ever sufficiently surprising +to astonish calm little Rosa Marie.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," offered Bettie, "she's awfully +surprised inside."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I know <i>I</i> am," laughed Mabel. "Inside +and out, too."</p> + +<p>Then, just as Mrs. Crane had decided that +Rosa Marie had been outdoors long enough, +the Slater carriage arrived for the girls. +Mr. Black, beaming at the success of his +Christmas party, packed them with all their +belongings into the vehicle and they rolled +happily away.</p> + +<p>They stopped at their own homes just +long enough to drop most of the gifts they +had garnered from the Black-Crane tree; +and then Henrietta whisked her friends to +the Slater home, where Mrs. Slater entertained +them for two hours over a delightful, +genuinely English Christmas supper.</p> + +<p>Henrietta's tree, too, was a very handsome +one. A realistic Santa Claus who seemed +as English as the supper, since he dropped +the letter H just as Simmons always did, +distributed the gifts. When the Cottagers +opened odd, foreign-looking parcels and +found that Henrietta had given each girl a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +set of three beautiful Oriental boxes with +jewelled tops, their delight knew no bounds. +They had expected nothing so fine.</p> + +<p>"You see," explained Henrietta, "I told +Father, months ago, to send me a lot of little +things to give away for Christmas and of +course he bought boxes. I believe he buys +every one he sees."</p> + +<p>"They're darlings," declared Jean, +dreamily. "They take you away to far-off +places where things smell old and—and +magnificent."</p> + +<p>"It's the grown-upness of my presents +that I like," explained eleven-year-old +Mabel, with a big sigh of satisfaction. "It's +lovely to have people treat you as if you were +somebody."</p> + +<p>"You see," laughed Marjory, "it's only +two years ago that an absent-minded aunt +of Mr. Bennett's sent Mabel a rattle, and the +poor child can't forget it."</p> + +<p>"Miss 'Enrietta," inquired Santa Claus, +anxiously, when the Slater tree, too, had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +stripped of all but its decorations, "might +Hi be hexcused now? Hi'm due at a Christmas +ball and Hi'm hawfully afride these +togs is meltin' me 'igh collar."</p> + +<p>"Yes," laughed Henrietta, "you've done +nobly and I hope you'll have a lovely time at +the party."</p> + +<p>It was half-past ten before the Cottagers +got to bed that night—a long day because +they had risen so early.</p> + +<p>"But," breathed Bettie, happily, "when +days are as nice as this I like 'em long."</p> + +<p>"It's nice to have friends," said Jean.</p> + +<p>"I wish," sighed Mabel, "they'd make +some kind of a watch that had to be wound +every hour; it seems awfully hard to wait +until morning."</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Bennett looked in that night +to see if Mabel had remembered to take off +her best hair ribbon, she found a doll on each +side of the blissful slumberer, a watch pinned +to her nightdress, a jeweled box clasped +loosely in each relaxed hand and at least half<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +a bushel of other treasures under the uncomfortable +pillow. As Mrs. Bennett gently +removed all these articles and straightened +the bed-clothes Mabel murmured in her sleep, +"Merry Christmas, girls."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /> + +<small>A Bettie-less Plan</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>THE first thing that happened after +Christmas was the announcement of +the School Board's decision to wait a full +year before beginning to build a new schoolhouse.</p> + +<p>"Even if we could decide on a site," said +they, "it would be hard on the tax-payers +to furnish money for such a building all at +one assessment. By spreading it over two +years' tax-rolls it will come easier."</p> + +<p>The fathers, for the most part, were +pleased with the arrangement, but many of +the mothers disliked it very much indeed.</p> + +<p>"We must do something about it," said +Aunty Jane, who had called at Mrs. Bennett's +to talk the matter over. "I'm in +favor of sending Marjory away to some +good girls' school, because she has some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +money that is to be used solely for educational +purposes. There is enough for college +and for at least one year at a boarding school, +besides something for extras. My conscience +will feel easier when that money begins +to go toward its proper purpose."</p> + +<p>"The Doctor thinks of going to Germany +next fall for a special course of study that he +thinks he needs," returned Mrs. Bennett. +"If we could place Mabel in a safe, comfortable +school, I could go with him. We've +been talking of it for a long time."</p> + +<p>"I certainly am not satisfied," admitted +Mrs. Mapes, when Aunty Jane put the matter +to her. "There are too many pupils +crowded into that Baptist basement and it's +so damp that I've had to put cold compresses +on Jean's throat four times since the fire. If +you can find a good school to fit a modest +pocketbook we'd be glad to send Jean for +the one year."</p> + +<p>Then Aunty Jane unfolded her plans to +the Tuckers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's a beautiful idea," said pleasant Dr. +Tucker, "as far as the rest of you are concerned; +but you will have to leave Bettie +entirely out of the scheme; we simply can't +afford it. We've always hoped to be able +to do something for Dick—he wants to be a +physician—but even that is hopelessly beyond +us at present."</p> + +<p>"No," added Mrs. Tucker, shifting the +heavy baby to her other arm and hoping that +Aunty Jane would not notice the dust on the +battered table, "we couldn't even think of +sending Bettie. But Mrs. Slater intends letting +Henrietta go some place next fall; why +don't you talk it over with her?"</p> + +<p>"I mean to," assured Aunty Jane. "You +see, it will need a great deal of talking over +because it may prove hard to find exactly the +right kind of school. The eastern seminaries +are too far away. It must be some place +south of Lakeville, within a day's journey, +within reach of all our pocketbooks, and in +a healthful location. It mustn't be too big,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +too stylish, or too old-fashioned. I'm sending +out postal cards every day and getting +catalogues by every mail; but so far, I +haven't come to any decision except that +Marjory is to go <i>some</i> place."</p> + +<p>At first, the older people said little about +school matters to the four girls, but as winter +wore on it became an understood thing +that not only fortunate Henrietta but Jean, +Marjory and Mabel were to go away to +school the following September.</p> + +<p>"Won't it be simply glorious," said Henrietta, +who was entertaining the Cottagers +in her den, "if all four of us land in the +same school; and we <i>must</i>—I shall stand out +for that. And you and I, Jean, shall room +together and be chums."</p> + +<p>"Then Marjory and I," announced +Mabel, "shall room together, too, and fight +just the way we always do if Jean isn't on +hand to stop us."</p> + +<p>"Won't it be perfectly fine?" breathed +Marjory. "I've always loved boarding-school<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +stories and now we'll be living right +in one."</p> + +<p>Bettie kept silence, but her eyes were big +and troubled. With the girls gone she +knew that her world would be sadly changed. +Her close companionship with the other Cottagers—she +was only three when she first +began to play with Jean—had prevented her +forming other friendships. Without doubt, +Aunty Jane would be lonely; the Bennetts, in +Germany, might miss noisy, affectionate +Mabel, Mrs. Mapes might long for helpful +Jean and Mrs. Slater would certainly find +her big, beautiful home dull with no sparkling +Henrietta but it was Bettie, poor little +impecunious, uncomplaining Bettie, who +would be the very loneliest of all. The +others would lose only one girl apiece; Bettie's +loss would be fourfold. Lovely Jean, +sprightly Marjory, jolly Mabel and attractive +Henrietta—how <i>could</i> she spare them all +at once! And the glorious times the absent +four would have together—how <i>could</i> Bettie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +miss all that? It seemed, to the little, overwhelmed +girl, too big a trouble to talk about.</p> + +<p>For a long, long time the more fortunate +girls were too taken up with their own +prospects to think very seriously of Bettie's; +but one day Jean was suddenly astonished at +the depth of misery that she surprised in +Bettie's wistful, tell-tale eyes. After that, +the girls openly expressed their pity for Bettie, +who would have to stay in Lakeville. +This proved even harder to bear than their +light-hearted chatter; for it made Bettie pity +herself to an even greater extent.</p> + +<p>Of course, it would be several months before +the hated school—Bettie, by this time, +was quite certain that she hated it—would +swallow up her dearest four friends at one +sudden, hideous gulp; but remote as the date +was, the interested girls could talk of very +little else. No matter what topic they might +begin with, it always worked around at last +to "when I go away next fall."</p> + +<p>"I can't have any clothes this spring,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +said Jean, when the girls, in a body, were +escorting Henrietta home from her dressmaker's. +"Mother's letting my old things +down and piecing everything till I feel like +a walking bedquilt. You see, I'm to have +new things to go away with."</p> + +<p>"Same here," asserted Mabel. "Only <i>my</i> +mother's having a worse time than yours to +make my things meet. My waist measure is +twenty-nine inches and my skirt bands are +only twenty-seven."</p> + +<p>"<i>Only</i> twenty-seven," groaned shapely +Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"If you see a second Aunty Jane," said +Marjory, skipping ahead to imitate the elder +Miss Vale's prim, peculiar walk, "running +round Lakeville all summer, you'll know +who it is. She's cutting down two of her +thousand-year-old gowns to tide me over the +season. One came out of the Ark and she +purchased the other at a little shop on Mount +Ararat."</p> + +<p>"Grandmother's making lists," laughed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +Henrietta, "of all the things mentioned in +all the catalogues. When she gets done, +probably she'll add them all up and divide +the result by <i>me</i>; and that will give a respectable +outfit for one girl."</p> + +<p>"Poor Bettie!" said sympathetic Jean, +squeezing Bettie's slim hand. "You're out +of it all, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>But this was too much for Bettie. She +turned hastily and fled.</p> + +<p>The girls looked after her pityingly.</p> + +<p>"Poor Bettie!" murmured Jean. "It's +awfully hard on her to hear all this talk +about school. She's always had us, you +know, and she thinks there won't be a scrap +of Lakeville left when we're gone."</p> + +<p>In February Rosa Marie created a little +excitement by coming down with measles. +Maggie, the maid, had broken out with this +unlovely affliction and no one had suspected +what the trouble was until she had peeled in +the actual presence of Rosa Marie. Of +course Rosa Marie came down with measles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +too. But there was an unusual feature about +this illness. Although it was Maggie and +Rosa Marie who were supposed to be the +sufferers it was really Mrs. Crane who did +all the suffering. You see, this inexperienced +lady read all the literature that she +could find that touched on the subject of +measles and its after-effects; and long after +Rosa Marie had entirely recovered, conscientious +Mrs. Crane remained awake +nights waiting for the dreaded "after-effects" +to develop.</p> + +<p>"We'll bury Mrs. Crane with whooping +cough," sputtered Dr. Bennett, writing a +soothing prescription for the good lady, "if +Rosa Marie ever catches it. She's a hen +bringing up a solitary duckling, and she's +certainly overdoing it. She ought not to +have the responsibility of that child; she's +not fitted for responsibilities, yet she's the +sort that takes 'em."</p> + +<p>"I'll adopt Rosa Marie myself," declared +Henrietta Bedford, hearing of this opinion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +and waylaying Dr. Bennett in Mrs. Slater's +hall to make her light-hearted offer. "She'd +go beautifully with the other picturesque objects +in my den and I'm very sure that the +responsibility won't weigh <i>me</i> down."</p> + +<p>"So am I," laughed Dr. Bennett. "So +sure of it that I shan't allow you to afflict +your grandmother with any carelessly +adopted babies. But that child is on my +conscience, since Mabel was the principal +culprit in the matter. We'll try to get Mrs. +Crane to send her to an asylum; only that +dear lady's conscience will have to be bombarded +from all sides before it will let her +consent to any such sensible plan. Perhaps +you can get the girls—particularly Mabel,—to +look at the matter from that point of +view; we must rescue Mrs. Crane."</p> + +<p>"I'll try to," promised Henrietta.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX<br /> + +<small>Anxious Days</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>FOR the next few weeks the Cottagers led +as quiet a life as almost daily association +with Henrietta would permit. Jean +grew a trifle taller, Marjory discovered new +ways of doing her hair and Mabel remained +as round and ruddy as ever. But everybody +was worried about Bettie. She seemed +listless and indifferent in school, she fell +asleep over her books when she attempted to +study at night, she grew averse to getting +up mornings and day by day she grew thinner +and paler, until even heedless Mabel observed +that she was all eyes.</p> + +<p>"What's the trouble?" asked Jean, when +Bettie said that she didn't feel like going to +the Public Library corner to view the Uncle +Tom's Cabin parade. "A walk would do +you good, and it's only four blocks."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm tired," returned Bettie. "My head +would like to go but my feet would rather +not. And my hands don't want to do anything—or +even my tongue. You can tell me +about the parade—that'll be easier than looking +at it."</p> + +<p>Now, this was a new Bettie. The old one, +while not exactly a noisy person, had been so +active physically that the others had sometimes +found it difficult to follow her dancing +footsteps. She had ever been quick to wait +on the other members of her large family; +or to do errands, in the most obliging +fashion, for any of her friends. This new +Bettie eyed the Tucker cat sympathetically +when it mewed for milk; but she relegated +the task of feeding pussy to one of her much +more unwilling small brothers.</p> + +<p>"She needs a tonic," said Mrs. Tucker, +giving Bettie dark-brown doses from a large +bottle. "It's the spring, I guess."</p> + +<p>Two days after the parade there was great +excitement among Bettie's friends. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +had not appeared at school. That in itself +was not an unusual occurrence, for Bettie +often stayed at home to help her overburdened +mother through particularly trying +days; but when Jean stopped in to consult +her little friend about homemade valentines, +Mrs. Tucker met her with the news that +Bettie was sick in bed.</p> + +<p>"Can't I see her?" asked Jean.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not," replied Mrs. Tucker, +who looked worried. "She's asleep just +now and she has a temperature."</p> + +<p>When Mabel heard this latter fact she at +once consulted Dr. Bennett.</p> + +<p>"Father," she queried, "do folks ever die +of temperature?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," returned the Doctor. "If +the temperature is below zero they sometimes +freeze. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Tucker says that's what Bettie's +got—temperature."</p> + +<p>"It isn't a disease, child. It's a condition +of heat or cold. But it's too soon to say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +anything about Bettie—go play with your +dolls."</p> + +<p>Henrietta and the remaining Cottagers +immediately thought of lovely things to do +for Bettie. So, too, did Mr. Black. Impulsive +Henrietta purchased a large box of +most attractive candy, Jean made her a +lovely sponge cake that sat down rather +sadly in the middle but rose nobly at both +ends; Mabel begged half a lemon pie from +the cook; Marjory concocted a wonderful +bowl of orange jelly with candied cherries on +top, Mrs. Crane made a steaming pitcherful +of chicken soup and Mr. Black sent in a +great basket of the finest fruit that the Lakeville +market afforded.</p> + +<p>But when all these successive and well-meaning +visitors presented themselves and +their unstinted offerings at the Rectory door, +Dr. Tucker received them sadly.</p> + +<p>"Bettie is down with a fever," said he. +"She can't eat <i>anything</i>."</p> + +<p>The days that followed were the most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +dreadful that the Cottagers had ever known. +They lived in suspense. Day after day +when they asked for news of Bettie the response +was usually, "Just about the same." +Occasionally, however, Dr. Bennett shook +his head dubiously and said, "Not quite so +well to-day."</p> + +<p>For weeks—for <i>years</i> it seemed to the disheartened +children—these were the only tidings +that reached them from the sick-room. +There was a trained nurse whose white cap +sometimes gleamed in an upper window, the +grave-faced, uncommunicative doctor visited +the house twice a day, a boy with parcels from +the drug store could frequently be seen entering +the Rectory gate and that was about all +that the terribly interested friends could +learn concerning their beloved Bettie. They +spent most of their time hovering quietly +and forlornly about Mrs. Mapes's doorstep, +for that particular spot furnished the best +view of the afflicted Rectory. They wanted, +poor little souls, to keep as close to Bettie as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +possible. If the sun shone during this time, +they did not know it; for all the days seemed +dark and miserable.</p> + +<p>"If we could only help a little," mourned +Jean, who looked pale and anxious, "it +wouldn't be so bad."</p> + +<p>"I teased her," sighed Henrietta, repentantly, +"only two days before she was taken +sick. I do wish I hadn't."</p> + +<p>"I gave her the smaller half of my +orange," lamented Mabel, "the very last +time I saw her. If—if I don't ever see—see +her again——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," comforted Marjory, hastily, +"she might have been just that much sicker +if she'd eaten the larger piece. But <i>I</i> wish +I hadn't talked so much about boarding +school. It always worried her and sometimes +I tried [Marjory blushed guiltily at +the remembrance] to make her just a little +envious."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid," confessed Jean, "I sometimes +neglected her just a little for Henrietta;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +but I mean to make up for it if—if I +have a chance."</p> + +<p>"That's it," breathed Marjory, softly, "if +we only have a chance."</p> + +<p>Then, because the March wind wailed forlornly, +because the waiting had been so long +and because it seemed to the discouraged +children as if the chance, after all, were extremely +slight—as slight and frail a thing as +poor little Bettie herself—the four friends +sat very quietly for many minutes on the +rail of the Mapes's broad porch, with big +tears flowing down their cheeks. Presently +Mabel fell to sobbing outright.</p> + +<p>Mr. Black, on his way home from his +office, found them there. He had meant to +salute them in his usual friendly fashion, but +at sight of their disconsolate faces he merely +glanced at them inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"She's—she's just about the same," +sobbed Jean.</p> + +<p>Mr. Black, without a word, proceeded on +his way; but all the sparkle had vanished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +from his dark eyes and his countenance +seemed older. He, too, was unhappy on Bettie's +account and he lived in hourly dread of +unfavorable news. The very next morning, +however, there was a more hopeful air about +Dr. Bennett when he left the Rectory. +Mabel, waiting at home, questioned him +mutely with her eyes.</p> + +<p>"A very slight change for the better," +said he, "but it is too soon for us to be sure +of anything. We're not out of the woods +yet."</p> + +<p>Next came the tidings that Bettie was +really improving, though not at all rapidly; +yet it was something to know that she was +started on the road to recovery.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the tedious days that followed +were the most trying days of all, however, +for the impatient children; because the +"road to recovery" in Bettie's case seemed +such a tremendously long road that her little +friends began to fear that Bettie would +never come into sight at the end of it, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +she did at last. And such a forlorn Bettie +as she was!</p> + +<p>She had certainly been very ill. They had +shaved her poor little head, her eyes seemed +almost twice their usual size and the girls +had not believed that any living person could +become so pitiably thin; but the wasting +fever was gone and what was left of Bettie +was still alive.</p> + +<p>Long before the invalid was able to sit up, +the girls had been admitted one by one and +at different times, to take a look at her. +Bettie had smiled at them. She had even +made a feeble little joke about being able to +count every one of her two hundred bones.</p> + +<p>After a time, Bettie could sit up in bed. +A few days later, rolled in a gaily flowered +quilt presented by the women of the parish; +she occupied a big, pillowed chair near the +window; and all four of the girls were able +to throw kisses to her from Jean's porch. +And now she could eat a few spoonfuls of +Mrs. Crane's savory broth, a very little of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +Marjory's orange jelly and one or two of +Mr. Black's imported grapes. But, for a +long, long time, Bettie progressed no further +than the chair.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what ails that child," confessed +puzzled Dr. Bennett. "She's like a +piece of elastic with all the stretch gone from +the rubber. She seems to lack something; +not exactly vitality—animation, perhaps, or +ambition. Yes, she certainly lacks ambition. +She ought to be outdoors by now."</p> + +<p>"Hurry and get well," urged Jean, who +had been instructed to try to rouse her too-slowly-improving +friend. "The weather's +warmer every day and it won't be long before +we can open Dandelion Cottage. And +we've sworn a tremendous vow not to show +Henrietta—she's crazy to see it—a single +inch of that house until you're able to trot +over with us. Here's the key. You're to +keep it until you're ready to unlock that door +yourself."</p> + +<p>"Drop it into that vase," directed Bettie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +"It seems a hundred miles to that cottage, +and I'll never have legs enough to walk so +far."</p> + +<p>"Two are enough," encouraged Jean.</p> + +<p>"Both of mine," mourned Bettie, displaying +a wrinkled stocking, "wouldn't make a +whole one."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Slater wants to take you to drive +every day, just as soon as you are able to +wear clothes. She told me to tell you."</p> + +<p>"It seems a fearfully long way to the +stepping stone," sighed Bettie. "Go home, +please. It's makes me tired to <i>think</i> of +driving."</p> + +<p>"There's certainly something amiss with +Bettie," said Dr. Bennett, when told of this +interview. "Some little spring in her seems +broken. We must find it and mend it or we +won't have any Bettie."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXX<br /> + +<small>An April Harvest</small></h2> + + +<p class='drop-cap'>SPRING is an unknown season in Lakeville. +But if one waits sufficiently long, +there comes at last a period known as the +breaking of winter. Since, owing to the +heavy snows of January, February and +March, there is always a great deal of winter +to break, the process is an extended and—to +the "overshoed" young—a decidedly trying +one. But even in northerly Lakeville there +finally came an afternoon when the girls +decided that the day was much too fine to be +spent indoors; and that the hour had arrived +when it would be safe to leave off rubbers. +The snow had disappeared except in very +shaded spots and the Bay was free of ice +except for a line of white that showed far +out beyond the intense blue. The sidewalks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +were comparatively dry, but streams of icy +water gurgled merrily in the deep gutters +that ran down all the sloping streets. Although +this abundant moisture was only the +result of melting snow in the hills back of +Lakeville and possessed no beauty in itself, +these impetuous streams gave forth pleasant +springlike sounds and made one think sentimentally +of babbling brooks, fresh clover +and blossoms by the wayside. Yet one +needed to draw pretty heavily on one's imagination +to see either flowers or grass at +that early date; but the <i>feel</i> of them, as Jean +said, was certainly in the air.</p> + +<p>"Let's walk down by Mrs. Malony's," +suggested Mabel.</p> + +<p>"She doesn't milk at this time of day, +does she?" queried Henrietta, cautiously.</p> + +<p>"We needn't go in," assured Mabel. +"We'll just run down one hill and up the +other; but it's always lovely to walk along +the shore road. There's a sort of a side-walk—if +folks aren't too particular."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it be beautiful," sighed Jean, +"if Bettie could only come too? This air +would do anybody good."</p> + +<p>"Yes," mourned Marjory, "nothing +seems quite right without Bettie."</p> + +<p>The girls, a trifle saddened, went slowly +down the hill.</p> + +<p>"We must certainly steer clear of Mrs. +Malony," warned Henrietta, as the egg-woman's +house became visible. "Another +dose of her hot milk would drive me from +Lakeville."</p> + +<p>"There she is now!" exclaimed Mabel. +"I recognize her by her cow; she's driving +it home."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it ran away to look for summer," +offered Marjory. "The lady seems +displeased with her pet."</p> + +<p>"An' how are the darlin' childer?" cried +Mrs. Malony, greeting her friends while yet +a long way off. "'Tis a sight for a quane +to see, so manny purty lasses. But where's +me little black-oiyed Bettie—there's the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +swate choild for yez? Sure Oi heard she +was loike to die, wan while back. Betther, +is ut? Thot's good, thot's good. An' wud +yez belave ut, Miss Mabel,—'tis fatter than +iver yez are, Oi see—Oi had yez in me moind +all this blissid day."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Mabel, rather coldly.</p> + +<p>"Well, 'twas loike this, darlin'," explained +Mrs. Malony, dropping her voice to +a more confidential tone and nodding significantly +toward a distant chimney. "'Twas +siven o'clock the mornin' whin Oi seen +smoke risin' from the shanty beyant. All +day Oi've been moinded to be goin' acrost +the p'int an' lookin' in at thot windy to see +if 'twas thot big-eyed Frinch wan come back +wid the spring."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean Rosa Marie's mother!" +gasped Mabel.</p> + +<p>"Thot same," proceeded Mrs. Malony, +calmly. "But what wid Malony white-washin' +me kitchen, an' me pesky hins +walkin' in me parlor and me cow breakin'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +down me fince, sure Oi've had no toime to be +traipsin' about."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you go now?" queried Jean, +eagerly. "If it <i>is</i> that woman we ought to +know it."</p> + +<p>"Wait till Oi toi up me cow," consented +Mrs. Malony.</p> + +<p>The four friends, with Mrs. Malony in +tow, picked their way over the badly kept +path that led to the shanty.</p> + +<p>"The door's been mended," announced +observant Marjory.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't seem quite proper," said gentle-mannered +Jean, "to peek into people's +windows. Couldn't we knock and ask in a +perfectly proper way to see the lady of the +house?"</p> + +<p>"Sure we could thot," replied Mrs. +Malony.</p> + +<p>"Do hurry!" urged Mabel, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>There was no response to Jean's rather +nervous knock; but when Mrs. Malony applied +her stout knuckles to the door there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +were results. The door was opened cautiously, +just a tiny crack at first, then to its +full extent. A dark-eyed woman with two +thick braids falling over her shapely shoulders +confronted them.</p> + +<p>She swept a mildly curious glance over +Mrs. Malony, over Jean, over Marjory, over +Henrietta. Then her splendid eyes fell +upon Mabel; they changed instantaneously.</p> + +<p>In a twinkling the woman had brushed +past the others to seize startled Mabel by +both shoulders and to gaze piercingly into +Mabel's frightened eyes. The woman tried +to speak; but, for a long moment, her voice +would not come.</p> + +<p>"You—you!" she gasped, clutching +Mabel still more tightly, as if she feared that +the youngster might escape. "Ees eet you +for sure? But w'ere, w'ere——?"</p> + +<p>No further words would come. The poor +creature's evident emotion was pitiful to +see, and the girls were too overwhelmed to +do more than stare with all their might.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Rosa Marie's all right," gulped Mabel, +coming to the rescue with exactly the right +words. "She's safe and happy."</p> + +<p>"Ma babee, ma babee," moaned the +woman, her long-lashed eyes beaming with +wonderful tenderness, and expressive of intense +longing. "Bring me to heem queek—ah, +so queek as evaire you can. Ma babee—I +want heem queek."</p> + +<p>Then, without stopping for outer garments +or even to close her door, and still +holding fast to the abductor of Rosa Marie, +the woman hurriedly led the way from the +clearing.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Malony would have remained with +the party if she had not encountered her +frolicsome cow, a section of fence-rail dangling +from her neck, strolling off toward +town.</p> + +<p>On the way up the long hill the woman, +who still possessed all the beauty and the +"mother-looks" that Mabel had described, +talked volubly in French, in Chippewa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> +Indian and in broken English. As Henrietta +was able to understand some of the +French and part of the English, the girls +were able to make out almost two-thirds of +what she was saying.</p> + +<p>On the day of Mabel's first visit the young +mother had departed with her new husband, +who, not wanting to be burdened with a +step-child, had persuaded her to abandon +Rosa Marie, for whom she had subsequently +mourned without ceasing. As might have +been expected, the man had proved unkind. +He had beaten her, half starved her and +finally deserted her. She had worked all +winter for sufficient money to carry her to +Lakeville and had waited impatiently—all +that time without news of her baby—for +mild weather in order that the shanty, the +only home that she knew, might become +habitable.</p> + +<p>The hill was steep and long, but all five +hastened toward the top. Marjory ran +ahead to ring the Black-Crane door-bell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +Mabel piloted the trembling mother straight +to the nursery. Jean, learning from Martin +where to look for Mrs. Crane, ran to +fetch her.</p> + +<p>Rosa Marie, in her little chair and placidly +stringing beads, looked up as unconcernedly +as if it were an ordinary occasion. The +woman, uttering broken, incoherent sounds +sped across the big room, dropped to her +knees and flung her arms about Rosa Marie. +Then, for many moments, her face buried in +Rosa Marie's neck, the only-half-civilized +mother sobbed unrestrainedly.</p> + +<p>The child, however, gazed stolidly over +her mother's shoulder at the other visitors, +all of whom were much more moved than +she. Mrs. Crane, indeed, was shedding +tears and even Mr. Black seemed touched. +As for Mabel, that sympathetic young person +was weeping both visibly and audibly, +without exactly knowing why.</p> + +<p>Since the repentant mother, who refused +to let her baby out of her arms for a single<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +moment, begged to be allowed to take Rosa +Marie to the shanty that very night, Mrs. +Crane, aided by the willing girls and Mr. +Black, did what they could toward making +the place comfortable.</p> + +<p>After Martin and Mr. Black had carried +a whole motor-carful of bedding, food and +fuel to the shanty, the now radiant mother, +Rosa Marie, her toys, her clothes and all her +belongings, were likewise transported to +the humble lakeside dwelling. Everybody +was so busy and the whole affair was +over so quickly that no one had time for +regrets.</p> + +<p>"I declare," said Mrs. Crane, wonderingly, +"I ought to feel as if I'd lost something. +Instead, I'm all of a whirl."</p> + +<p>"I said," Mabel triumphed, "that she'd +come back."</p> + +<p>Jean was commissioned to go the next +morning to break the news to Bettie. It +seemed to Dr. Bennett and to the hopeful +Cottagers that this important happening<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> +would surely rouse the listless little maid if +anything could. Mr. Black, who arrived +with a great bunch of violets while Jean was +telling the wonderful tale as graphically as +she could, expectantly watched Bettie's pale +countenance. Her wistful, weary eyes +brightened for a moment and a faint, tender +smile flickered across her lips.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad," said she. "Now Mrs. +Crane won't have to have whooping cough +and all the other things."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Crane is going to find work for +Rosa Marie's mother," announced Jean, +"and the shanty is to be mended."</p> + +<p>"That's nice," returned Bettie, who, however, +no longer seemed interested in Rosa +Marie's mother. "But my ears are tired +now; don't tell me any more."</p> + +<p>After this failure, Mr. Black followed +crestfallen Jean downstairs; he drew her into +the shabby Rectory parlor.</p> + +<p>"Now, Jean," demanded he, sternly, "is +there a solitary thing in this whole world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> +that Bettie wants? Is there anything that +could <i>possibly</i> happen that would wake her +up and bring her back? I'm dreadfully +afraid she's slipping away from us, Jean; +and she's far too precious to lose. Now +think—think <i>hard</i>, little girl. Has she <i>ever</i> +wanted anything?"</p> + +<p>"Why," responded Jean, slowly, as if +some outside force were dragging the words +from her, "right after Christmas there <i>was</i> +something, I think. A big, impossible something +that <i>nobody</i> could possibly help. She +didn't talk about it—and yet—and yet—— Perhaps +she did worry."</p> + +<p>"Go on," insisted Mr. Black, "I want it +all."</p> + +<p>"She seemed to get used to the idea so—so +uncomplainingly. Still, she may have +cared more than anybody suspected. She's +<i>like</i> that—never cries when she's hurt."</p> + +<p>"What idea?" demanded Mr. Black. +"Cared for what? Make it clear, +child."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You see," explained Jean, "all of us—Henrietta, +Marjory, Mabel and I—have +been talking a great deal about going away +to boarding school—we're all going. But +Bettie—Bettie, of course, knew that she +couldn't go. There was no money and her +father said——"</p> + +<p>"And why in thunder," shouted Mr. +Black, forgetting the invalid and striding up +and down the room with his fists clenched, +"didn't somebody say so? What do folks +think the good Lord <i>gave</i> us money for? +Why didn't—Come upstairs. We'll settle +this thing right now."</p> + +<p>Impulsive Mr. Black, with dazed Jean at +his heels, opened Bettie's door and walked in. +Bettie lifted her tired eyes in very mild +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Bad pennies," she smiled, "always come +back. What's all the noise about?"</p> + +<p>"Bettie," demanded Mr. Black, "do you +want to go away to school with those +other girls next September?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bettie opened her eyes wide. Jean said +afterwards that she "pricked up her ears," +too.</p> + +<p>"Because," continued Mr. Black, keeping +a sharp watch on Bettie's awakening countenance, +"you're going. And if <i>I</i> say +you're going, you surely are. Now, don't +worry about it—the thing's settled. You're +going with the others."</p> + +<p>"Open the windows," pleaded Bettie, her +face alight with some of the old-time eagerness. +"I want to see how it smells outdoors."</p> + +<p>"I believe we've done it," breathed +Jean. "She looks a lot brighter."</p> + +<p>And they had. No one had realized how +tender, uncomplaining Bettie had dreaded +losing her friends. And in her weakened +state, both before and after the fever, the +trouble had seemed very big. The load had +almost crushed sick little Bettie. Now that +it was lifted, and it was, for Mr. Black +swept everything before him, there was nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> +to keep the little girl from getting well +with truly gratifying speed.</p> + +<p>"Bettie," asked Dr. Bennett, the next +evening, "are you sure this is your own +pulse? If it is, it's behaving properly at last."</p> + +<p>"She ate every bit of her supper," said +Mrs. Tucker, happily, "and she asked, this +afternoon, if she owned any shoes. She's +really getting well."</p> + +<p>"I'm hurrying," laughed happy Bettie, +"to make up for lost time. Do give me +things to make me fat—as fat as Mabel."</p> + +<p>"She's certainly better," said the satisfied +doctor. "By to-morrow we'll have to tie +her down to keep her from dancing. She's +our own Bettie, at last."</p> + +<p class='center'> +THE END<br /> +</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class='tnote'> +<p class='center'><b>Transcriber's Notes:</b></p> + +<p>Punctuation errors repaired. Varied hyphenation retained.</p> + +<p>Front page description, "Scovill" changed to "Scovel" (Florence Scovel Shinn)</p> + +<p>Page 96, "Bennettt" changed to "Bennett" (Mrs. Bennett, rescuing)</p> + +<p>Page 165, "shruddered" changed to "shuddered" ("Ugh!" shuddered Marjory)</p> + +<p>Page 214, repeated word "a" removed from text. Original read (like a +a lobster's)</p> +</div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 46059 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/46059-h/images/cover.jpg b/46059-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..85cc42a --- /dev/null +++ b/46059-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/46059-h/images/emblem.jpg b/46059-h/images/emblem.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..33c953c --- /dev/null +++ b/46059-h/images/emblem.jpg diff --git a/46059-h/images/i006.jpg b/46059-h/images/i006.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..85a6bee --- /dev/null +++ b/46059-h/images/i006.jpg diff --git a/46059-h/images/i0132.jpg b/46059-h/images/i0132.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..04d35e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/46059-h/images/i0132.jpg diff --git a/46059-h/images/i0186.jpg b/46059-h/images/i0186.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7b7b3f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/46059-h/images/i0186.jpg diff --git a/46059-h/images/i0258.jpg b/46059-h/images/i0258.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bc16fc3 --- /dev/null +++ b/46059-h/images/i0258.jpg diff --git a/46059-h/images/i034.jpg b/46059-h/images/i034.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f5b655 --- /dev/null +++ b/46059-h/images/i034.jpg |
