Helen Leah Reed

“ After a few rather futile efforts to improve the appearance of these beds, Martine turned toward the house.
The red cottage, as she faced it, was far from imposing.
"It's like some of the roadside cottages I have seen in England and Wales. It isn't much larger. I'm glad that it is red instead of white—well I should have had to live in it just the same, but I should have hated a white house. A coat of red paint always makes a house seem picturesque," she concluded.
At this moment Angelina, in a pink calico in which she looked more gypsy-like than ever, ran down the little slope to meet Martine. ”

“ I try to be as modest as I can about it," responded Arthur Weston.
"Wait till the baseball season comes," interposed Robert Pringle, "and then you'll see another side of Yale."
"I wish we girls could have seen the game," cried Martine. "I can't see why they played it at New Haven; it was the one Saturday of the whole autumn when I had to stay in Boston."
"Why, it was New Haven's turn to have the game; you know Harvard and Yale have them on their own fields every other year," said Elinor, as if explaining something that Martine did not understand. ”

“ The next evening Lucian came home to dinner.
"What an unexpected honor," said Martine. "I've never known you to favor us with a Monday visit. You look rather glum, too," she added with sisterly frankness. "Is anything the matter?"
"No, no," he said, "nothing special. You shouldn't be so curious."
"I can read you like a book," replied Martine. "You are worrying over your finals and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. If I were a Harvard Sophomore, with all my time to use as I liked, I wouldn't be in such a state of mind over a few questions, for that's all an examination amounts to." ”

“ Upon this Angelina disappeared, and in the pleasant twilight Martine went outside with her mother to the little retreat in the garden.
"I half wish," said Mrs. Stratford, "that we had had a few fireworks. Even if we are shut off from the world, we ought not to forget the Fourth. I didn't suppose there would be much celebrating down here, but see!"
Looking where her mother pointed, Martine saw a great fire balloon soaring slowly into the air. They watched it until it disappeared and as the twilight deepened, they counted many rockets and Roman candles going up in various directions. ”

“ You, young man," he continued, "expect life to continue to be one continual round of pleasure; you bathe, play golf, drive, have evening excursions, and it's all right for the summer; but after a while you will have a hard hill to climb, and that is right too; it's part of life; only you mustn't let the summer spoil you."
"Oh, but Mr. Gamut," began Martine.
"Yes, I know," said Mr. Gamut, turning to Balfour, "you think perhaps there needn't be a hill for every one."
"I think I know what Miss Stratford meant to say; she meant to tell you that I am not a pleasure seeker, but a worker. ”

“ Yet even as she spoke Brenda could but admit to herself that Martine had an air of dignity suited to one much older than a girl of seventeen. But if she had thought Martine altogether grown up, she quickly changed her opinion, for at this very moment Martine sank on the floor beside her, and as her laughter re-echoed through the rooms Brenda was driven to say:
"My dear, don't talk to me about being grown up. You act precisely like a child of ten. What in the world is the matter?" ”

“ It is true that she had not even a word with Hazen Andrews, her special host, who, like most Seniors, was thoroughly occupied looking after relatives and the girls of the older set, to which Martine did not belong.
She had not many friends among the Seniors, though two or three in their flowing gowns, mortar-boards in their hands, came up to speak to her or Mrs. Redmond.
"Isn't it fun?" cried Martine to the latter. "It's like taking a journey somewhere, and running upon all kinds of people that one hasn't seen for a long time—only one seldom sees so many persons one knows on a single journey." ”

“ Poor Herbert looked at Martine in surprise. Was this the girl who was famous for her wit, who was one of the best dancers and riders in their set two or three years ago? How sad that she should have changed so; but it was all on account of Boston; no girl could live in Boston a year without becoming affected. But what a pity that a pretty girl like Martine should turn into a bookworm! Nevertheless, Herbert handed Martine the desired pencil and paper, and he sat beside her while she made a great show of writing down the few facts that she had gathered from the volatile Peggy. ”

“ But I hope you'll think kindly of me, Miss Martine, and so now good-bye."
After this extraordinary speech, Angelina tripped gayly down the path in the direction of the cars.
"It's frightful ingratitude!" said Martine. "I feel as if I should never wish to do anything for any one again."
"Angelina has earned her money," responded Mrs. Stratford. "She has worked pretty faithfully. As I have studied her character, I have sometimes wondered that she should stay so contentedly with us, when we have given her so little opportunity to indulge in her favorite gossip." ”

“ Stacy, "I will try to hunt up some Mayflower ancestors, for I can't let Priscilla continue to be so superior to me in this respect."
"Indeed, I don't feel superior," said Priscilla, "but I can't tell you how pleased I am, Martine, that you have stopped making fun of Plymouth and the Pilgrims."
"Dear Prissie, you should not take things so seriously. My fun was only fun, and you were too ready to take it in as earnest." ”

“ Angelina spoke with all the impressiveness of one in authority.
"You make me think of a trained nurse, Angelina. But what in the world are we to do?"
"Come with me," cried Angelina, and Martine, following her to the kitchen, noticed as she turned her head that there was a twinkle in Angelina's eye.
"Perhaps there's something in the refrigerator," thought Martine; "refrigerators always are full of things that can be warmed over. We might call it 'luncheon' instead of 'dinner,' and tell Mrs. Tilworth that's the way we do in Chicago. She will believe anything about Western people." ”

“ Stratford talked by themselves, Peggy's tongue flew on reciting the attractions of York. Trips up the river, tea at the Country Club, yachting, trolley and auto excursions apparently filled her days; "really I never have a minute to myself," she said, "and to-morrow we are going to have a fish dinner at the Shoals, the whole crowd of us. We've got a special car to take us over to Portsmouth, and then we go by the steamboat; we thought it would be more fun than simply to sail over. There's a seat for you, Martine; I know your mother will let you go, and of course we shall see you too, Clare." ”

“ Danforth, you must be umpire."
"Tell them one little unexciting witch story," replied Mrs. Danforth. "Priscilla is too old to be troubled by bad dreams, at least from so small a cause."
"It isn't that," protested staid Priscilla, "only witch stories are so silly."
"Oh, if that's the only thing against them," cried Martine, "please tell me as many as you can. I love silly things—sometimes. So please tell us a story, Mr. Stacy." ”

“ There were occasional glimpses of water on one side, and once in the distance, across the water, rose the massive outlines of a hotel.
"This is Kittery," exclaimed Clare. "We are almost on the boundaries of Maine and New Hampshire; that water is the mouth of the Piscataqua; you must go down on the shore some time; artists love it."
"I should like to sketch one of these tree-shaded old houses myself," replied Martine; "that one over there looks as if it could tell a story if it would." ”

“ So it must be the rock on which the Mayflower's passengers landed."
"I wonder why they didn't just step out on the beach," persisted Martine. "I should think that would have been ever so much more comfortable than hopping down on this rock."
"Others besides you have intimated the same thing," persisted the old gentleman; "but you must admit that a rock is a better foundation for the sentiment of a nation to base itself on than a sandy beach. Even our foreign-born children pin much of their patriotism to Plymouth Rock." ”

“ You seldom lose your temper; I should hardly say 'never.' Neither does Priscilla."
"Well, then, why won't she let me pay for the photographs?" Martine looked keenly at Amy, who had been spending an hour with her that afternoon, as if she expected to read the answer in her friend's eyes.
"I cannot tell you Priscilla's reasons, but her spirit of independence."
"Spirit of independence! Boys of '76! How tired I am of American history! Priscilla is just like one of her own Pilgrim Fathers—only more so. ”

“ In the early summer, a few months before, Priscilla and Martine had first become really acquainted, when as travelling companions they made a journey with Amy and her mother. For some time the two seemed far from congenial; each looked at life from a very different standpoint. Priscilla, brought up rather strictly and economically, prided herself, perhaps unduly, on her unworldliness, and found it hard to understand the extravagant, fun-loving Martine. But each girl at last accepted the other's good qualities, and before they had left Canadian soil the two had begun to be good friends. ”

“ But Elinor and Martine had no intention of wasting their time listening to Robert's nonsense, and were now pushing through the doors into the transept.
"The real Memorial is here," said Elinor, reverently, passing from one tablet to another, on which were inscribed the names of those Harvard men who fell in the Civil War.
"'The real Memorial is here,' said Elinor, reverently, passing from one tablet to another."
"A short life hath Nature given to man, but the remembrance of a life nobly rendered up is eternal!" she murmured, translating one of the inscriptions on the wall. ”

“ She was a Russian girl who had been in Boston but a year, and her gift took the form of a genius for making caricatures.
Her pencil was constantly in her hand, and even with her brush she could outline figures and scenes on the margins of her pictures that would send the others into fits of uproarious laughter.
"Esther, Esther," Martine said one day, "you should never make fun of older people. Who is that tall, thin person, with the lorgnette in her hand?" ”

“ Martine was popular at school, and her invitations far exceeded those of the majority of her classmates. The younger girls liked her because she was always cheerful, and never snubbed them. The older girls admired her because she had an air of knowing the world, and was ever ready with some amusing story. She was popular without having many intimate friends, and Priscilla was proud of the distinction of being the one girl who knew Martine the best. Here and there, naturally enough, there were girls who did not care especially for Martine. ”

“ The fan, parasol, and other little accessories were quickly chosen from Martine's abundant store, and then the two girls sat down for the promised long talk.
"I know you'll like York," said Elinor. "Every one does."
"Oh,—I dare say,—I remember Peggy Pratt at school was always talking about it. But of course I am not going for fun, and we are to live in the littlest bit of a house, with only Angelina for maid, and I shall hardly have a cent to spend."
"I know, I know," responded Elinor gently, "but spending money is not everything, you can enjoy so many things without it." ”

“ Stratford to England. There was a great lump in Martine's throat as she wiped away her tears with the handkerchief that a moment before she had been waving frantically at her father.
"Goose, goose!" whispered Lucian. "You are too big a girl to cry."
"Oh, I hate saying good-bye," murmured Martine.
"Why, we've hardly been together—all four of us—for years."
"That's just it! It's been so pleasant lately—and now to have father in South America!—it's just dreadful."
"Nonsense, child! South America isn't so very far away. The trouble is, you've had too long a vacation. ”

“ Do you wish me to frighten the young lady from Chicago?"
"A witch story!" repeated Martine; "why, I thought the witches were only in Salem. I supposed people down here were too sensible to believe in witches."
"Few localities are so sensible as to escape all delusion. A vague belief in evil spirits and witches existed in all the colonies even well-through the eighteenth century, although the witchcraft persecution was of comparatively short duration."
"I don't care for witchcraft stories," said Priscilla, quietly.
"Well, well!" cried Mr. Stacy, smiling; "between two fires, what shall I do? ”