Caroline Emilia Jacobs

“ And yet, for the girl’s own sake, she could not be too easy.
“And so,” Blue Bonnet ended wearily, “I want to go home. I’m so tired of being ‘trained,’ Grandmother.”
“Tired of it, at fifteen, Elizabeth! When the training has only just begun! But you shall go back—if you really wish to—though the going must be done decently and in order; or you shall stay, and do that which in your heart you know to be right. The decision shall rest with yourself; but remember, Elizabeth, as you decide, so will your whole life be the weaker or the stronger for it.” ”

“ Mrs. Boyd cried.
"You ain't had your supper yet, have you, Miss Shirley?" Mr. Boyd asked.
"Father and I had tea out on the lake," Shirley answered, "but I'm hungry enough again by now, for a slice of Mrs. Boyd's bread and butter."
And presently, she was seated at the table, chatting away with Paul and Hilary, as if they were old acquaintances, asking Mr. Boyd various questions about farm matters and answering Mrs. Boyd's questions regarding Betsy Todd and her doings, with the most delightful air of good comradeship imaginable. ”

“ Blue Bonnet looked surprised. “No, Aunt Lucinda; did you expect me to? I never did at home.”
“Then it is quite time that you began, Elizabeth. If you will come upstairs with me you shall have your first lesson. I consider it most necessary that a young girl should be taught to depend on herself as much as possible.”
Blue Bonnet followed silently. Her room was just as she had left it on going down to breakfast that morning. Now, with the noon sunshine flooding it, and with Aunt Lucinda looking about with grave disapproving eyes, it looked very untidy indeed. ”

“ How long ago and remote it all seemed; how far from the hopeless discontent, the vague longings, the real anxiety of that time, she and Hilary had traveled. She looked up impulsively. "There's one thing," she said, "we've had one summer that I shall always feel would be worth reliving. And we're going to have more of them."
"I am glad to hear that," Mr. Shaw said.
Pauline looked about her—the lanterns at the ends of the boats threw dancing lights out across the water, no longer quiet; overhead, the sky was bright with stars. "Everything is so beautiful," the girl said slowly. ”

“ Blue Bonnet came home from school one afternoon, flushed and impatient. “It seems to me,” she said, standing by one of the sitting-room windows and restlessly twisting the curtain cord back and forth, “that school’s a fearfully over-rated place.”
“What has gone wrong, Elizabeth?” her grandmother asked.
“Nothing very much, Grandmother; but I do think that tutors are a long sight—”
“Are what, Elizabeth?” Miss Clyde interposed.
“A great deal more accommodating than women teachers. I’m not sure that I shall like going to school.” ”

“ To Patience's astonishment, nothing was said at supper, either of Uncle Paul's letter, or the wonderful things it was to lead to. Mr. Shaw kept his wife engaged with parish subjects and Pauline appeared lost in thoughts of her own. Patience fidgeted as openly as she dared. Of all queer grown-ups—and it looked as though most grown-ups were more or less queer—father was certainly the queerest. ”

“ Patricia had seen to the footstool herself, hunting it out up garret that morning. She had wondered why Daddy's eyes twinkled at sight of it—Daddy would tell her nothing about grandmother, she must wait and see. And Patricia so hated waiting for anything, from surprises to scoldings.
"Yes, it certainly does look grandmothery, Custard," she said; "and the flowers help a lot. I know she'll love asters; they're such an old-ladyish flower. Mind, sir, you're not to go rushing at her! And the very first time you run off with any of her things you're going to get your ears boxed." ”

“ The next day was a truly April day; showery enough by afternoon to keep people indoors,—anyone, that is, who happened to be visiting the Boston relatives,—but with sweet, damp odors coming from the Common in to Blue Bonnet through her open window, as she sat writing to Uncle Cliff, and thinking a little longingly of the broad veranda at Woodford, the big, pleasant garden, fast putting on its Spring dress. How could people be content to live their lives out in cities? ”

“ It was a large old-fashioned garden, separated on the further side by a low hedge from the old ivy-covered church. On the back steps of the church, Sextoness Jane was shaking out her duster. She was old and gray and insignificant looking; her duties as sexton, in which she had succeeded her father, were her great delight. The will with which she sang and worked now seemed to have in it something of reproach for the girl stretched out idly in the hammock. Nothing more than half-way things, and not too many of those, had ever come Sextoness Jane's way. ”

“ Clyde was waiting, and to her Blue Bonnet’s heart went out instantly.
“Ah, but you are like your mother, my dear!” Mrs. Clyde cried, holding the girl close. “It is very good of your uncle to spare you to us. I could hardly believe the good news when it came. But you are tired, dear; you shall go to your room at once.”
“I am tired,” Blue Bonnet said; she wondered why it was she wanted to cry. And why in this first moment of coming—coming home, Aunt Lucinda had called it—her thoughts kept going back to the home she had left. ”

“ Patricia ran to open the front door. "Come and admire, Daddy," she urged.
Dr. Kirby went with her to the library; in the center of the broad square room stood the tree, its slender tip just escaping the ceiling.
"And I trimmed it nearly all myself!" Patricia explained, proudly. "Aunt Julia had to go out. Maybe you don't think I've been busy to-day, Daddy! I don't know but what it is a good thing that Christmas doesn't come more than once a year."
"I should be bankrupt if it did," the doctor said, pulling one of Custard's long ears. "An only daughter is rather an expensive luxury." ”

“ Hilary was to drive him over to The Maples for dinner.
"Or such a summer altogether," Pauline added, from just inside the study window.
"Then Winton has possibilities?" Mr. Shaw asked.
"I should think it has; we ought to be eternally grateful to you for making us find them out," Pauline declared.
Mr. Shaw smiled, more as if to himself. "I daresay they're not all exhausted yet."
"Perhaps," Hilary said slowly, "some places are like some people, the longer and better you know them, the more you keep finding out in them to like." ”

“ Miss Lucinda half smiled. “And you consider that my especial prerogative? No, Blue Bonnet, I am not going to ‘say anything,’ as you express it, to you. I am going to ask that another time you will give a little thought to the worry and anxiety your heedlessness is likely to cause other people. I do not think you realize how troubled your grandmother was last evening.”
“Oh, I will try,” Blue Bonnet’s voice trembled. “I will, I truly will, Aunt Lucinda!”
“Solomon,” she confided to him later, as they two were alone in the firelight, “Solomon, Aunt Lucinda can be such a dear!” ”

“ PAULINE ALMY SHAW.
WINTON, VT., May Sixteenth.
Pauline laughed rather nervously as she slipped her letter into an envelope and addressed it. It wasn't a very big flag, but perhaps it would serve her purpose.
Tucking the letter into her blouse, Pauline ran down-stairs to the sitting-room, where her mother and Hilary were. "I'm going down to the post-office, mother," she said; "any errands?"
"My dear, in this rain?"
"There won't be any mail for us, Paul," Hilary said, glancing listlessly up from the book she was trying to read; "you'll only get all wet and uncomfortable for nothing." ”

“ Blue Bonnet dropped her strap of books, ran for her skates, paid a visit to the cookie jar in the pantry, patted Solomon, and with a “Good-bye, Grandmother,” was off, leaving Mrs. Clyde feeling as if a small whirlwind had swept through the quiet house.
What with school, her afternoons on the pond, her evenings of study, broken by occasional neighborhood gatherings, Blue Bonnet found the time slipping by very fast. ”

“ Pauline glanced up quickly. How could she have thought him unheeding—indifferent?
"Somehow, I think it will work out all right," she said. "Anyhow, we're going to try it, aren't we. Mother Shaw? Patience thinks it the best idea ever, there'll be no urging needed there."
Pauline went up to bed that night feeling strangely happy. For one thing the uncertainty was over, and if they set to work to make this summer full of interest, to break up the monotony and routine that Hilary found so irksome, the result must be satisfactory. ”

“ Now the center table, the wide lounge, generously supplied with the biggest and softest of cushions, the quaint medley of chairs,235 big and little, the low hassocks at either end of the broad hearth, made it, in the eyes of club members, an ideal gathering-place. There was nothing breakable—in the ordinary sense—and there were no curtains at the four windows,—just shades that could be raised quite out of sight when necessary; and on club days, a bright fire burned in the deep fireplace, behind the tall wire screen.
“So you’ve got your work, Blue Bonnet!” ”

“ Harry said to
Pauline.
Pauline laughed. Suddenly she looked up from her flowers with sobered face. "I wonder," she said slowly, "if you know what it's meant to us—you're being here this summer, Shirley? Sometimes things do fit in just right after all. It's helped out wonderfully this summer, having you here and the manor open."
"Pauline has a fairy-story uncle down in New York," Shirley turned to
Harry. "You've heard of him—Mr. Paul Shaw." ”

“ In the garden Blue Bonnet found Alec. He knew by now who Blue Bonnet’s company was; Kitty had enlightened him that morning.
“How’s the guest of honor getting on?” he asked.
“Finely.” Blue Bonnet led the way to the sheltered corner of the garden where the chrysanthemums grew. “Got your knife, Alec? I always do forget to bring out the garden scissors.”
Under her direction, Alec cut a great cluster of the big white, yellow, and tawny blossoms.
“Don’t you love them?” Blue Bonnet laid her face caressingly against one of the round feathery balls. “Alec, do you know—Aunt Lucinda isn’t half bad.” ”

“ There was a big braided mat on the floor of the porch, its colors rather faded by time and use, but looking none the worse for that, a couple of rockers, a low stool, and a small table, covered with a bit of bright cretonne. On it stood a blue and white pitcher filled with field flowers, beside it lay one or two magazines. Just outside, extending from one of the porch posts to the limb of an old cherry tree, hung Hilary's hammock, gay with cushions. ”

“ They had reached the woods now, the brook a slender, noisy thread beside them. On and on they followed it; now on this side, now on that; talking, laughing, growing better acquainted every moment. Ahead of them, the three dogs raced and barked and behaved in the absurd, carefree way usual with puppies.
“Isn’t Solomon getting better-looking every day?” Blue Bonnet said.
“Is he? He must have been a beauty at the start,” Alec declared.
“Oh, he isn’t a thoroughbred—except as to his feelings; but he’s a mighty nice dog. He’s devoted to Aunt Lucinda.” ”

“ Patience subsided reluctantly, her blue eyes most expressive.
"Isn't it nice for Hilary, mother? Now she'll be contented to stay a week or two, don't you think?" Pauline said.
"I hope so, dear. Yes, it is very nice."
"She was looking better already, mother; brighter, you know."
"Mummy, is asking a perfectly necessary question 'interrupting'?'"
"Perhaps not, dear, if there is only one," smiled Mrs. Shaw.
"Mayn't I, please, go with Paul and Hilary when they go to call on that girl?"
"On whom, Patience?"
Patience wriggled impatiently; grown people were certainly very trying at times. ”

“ Clyde said.
There was the sound of quick steps on the drive; a moment after, Blue Bonnet, hatless, her white dress soiled and crumpled, appeared, carrying a small dog in her arms.
“Grandmother,” she cried, “I’ve got a dog! I bought him from a boy up the road,—he was treating him mighty mean.”
“What are you going to do with him, Elizabeth?” Miss Clyde asked.
“Why, keep him, Aunt Lucinda. He’s a pretty dilapidated-looking specimen now, isn’t he? But wait until he’s had a bath and a few good meals. I reckon if ever a dog needed a good home, he does.” ”

“ Pauline called. "Mind, you're to be ever and ever so much better, next time I come, Hilary."
"Your sister has been sick?" Shirley asked, her voice full of sympathetic interest.
"Not sick—exactly; just run down and listless."
Shirley leaned a little forward, drawing in long breaths of the clear evening air. "I don't see how anyone can ever get run down—here, in this air; I'm hardly indoors at all. Father and I have our meals out on the porch. You ought to have seen Betsy Todd's face, the first time I proposed it. 'Ain't the dining-room to your liking, miss?'" she asked. ”

“ Her first thought was to sit down and read them then and there; but, with a little resolute shake of the head, she made herself get quite ready for bed136 first; then, wrapping a gaily striped Mexican blanket about her, she curled herself up on the foot of her bed, the letters in her lap.
And so vivid were they, so dear and familiar the scenes they portrayed, that presently the girl had forgotten time and place, and was feeling the prairie wind on her face; seeing the swaying of the tall grass; hearing the sounds of the ranch life—rejoicing in the freedom of it all. ”

“ Patience, who had hit upon the happy expedient of braiding her hair—braids, when there were a lot of them, took a long time—got slowly up from the hearth rug, her head a sight to behold, with its tiny, hornlike red braids sticking out in every direction. "I suppose I'd better be going. I wish I had someone to talk to, after I'd gone to bed." And a deep sigh escaped her.
Pauline kissed the wistful little face. "Never mind, old girl, you know you'd never stay awake long enough to talk to anyone." ”

“ It seemed to Blue Bonnet, as she stood there in the fast-falling snow, watching the six walk briskly off down the darkening street, Kitty and Debby stopping now and again to exchange snowballs with a passing friend, that of all seasons of the year, Christmas was the very nicest in which to be part of a large family.
She was turning to go in when she caught the sound of Alec’s whistle, and waited to speak to him. “Do come in,” she urged, “I feel—just like Mrs. Gummidge. I want someone to talk to who is—young, and can’t do things with his hands.” ”

“ Hilary cried, following with Pauline.
Beside the minister's shabby old gig, stood the smartest of smart traps, and hanging on the wall behind it, a pretty russet harness, with silver mountings.
Hilary sat down on an old saw horse; she felt again as though she must be dreaming.
"There isn't another such cute rig in town, Jim says so," Patience said. Jim was the stable boy. "It beats Bell Ward's all to pieces." ”

“ At the Clyde gate the club members turned in, slipping in at the side door and straight on up to Blue Bonnet’s room. She had spread most of her gifts out on her bed, trying to realize them that way.
“But I can’t—yet,” she said now. “I wonder if anyone ever felt as rich as I do.”
“Not everyone has such cause,” Debby answered. All of the others had fared well; but, as Kitty put it, it almost seemed as if Blue Bonnet had fared too well for her own good. “You haven’t anything left to want for,” she insisted.
“I don’t want Uncle Cliff to go West.”
“Nor do we,” Ruth laughed. ”

“ For Hilary's outing was to be a cherry picnic at The Maples, with supper under the trees, and a drive home later by moonlight.
Shirley had brought over the badges a day or two before; the blue ribbon, with its gilt lettering, gave an added touch to the girls' white dresses and cherry ribbons.
Mr. Dayre had been duly made an honorary member. He and Shirley were to meet the rest of the party at the farm. As for Patience H. M., as Tom called her, she had been walking very softly the past few days. There had been no long rambles without permission, no making calls on her own account. ”