An Invitation
"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?"
"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?"
"I've heard something," said Marjory, "but I can't just remember what,
about some girl named Henrietta."
"Well, you've seen Mrs. Howard Slater?"
All the girls had seen Mrs. Slater, the beautifully gowned, decidedly
aristocratic old lady with abundant but perfectly white 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.
"Yes," said Marjory, replying to Bettie's question, "we sit behind Mrs.
Slater in 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----"
"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
_looked_ like that."
"How do you like Henrietta?" asked Mabel.
"I don't know," said Bettie.
"Neither do I," replied Jean.
"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."
"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
_all_ have our chocolate on the sidewalk."
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.
"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."
"I'm sorry," said Jean, "that you have to have your first on the
sidewalk."
"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."
"A formal call!" gasped Bettie.
"We never made a formal call in all our lives," objected Jean.
"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----"
"Cards!" gasped Jean and Bettie.
"Cards!" snorted Mabel, flushing indignantly. "We haven't a card to our
names!"
"You _must_ 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, _you_ must be like that, too."
"I'll try," said Mabel, "but it'll be pretty hard work."
"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 _do_ come just as early as you can--I'm really desperately lonely."
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.
"You'll surely come," pleaded Henrietta.
"We'll come," promised Bettie, "cards and all."
"_Au revoir_," said Henrietta, carefully balancing her cup on the top
rail of the fence. "I must run along now to try on my clothes."
"Was that French?" queried Mabel, gazing after the departing figure.
"I think so," replied Jean.
"She can certainly talk English fast enough," said Marjory. "I suppose
just one language _isn't_ enough for anybody that chatters like that."
"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."
"I think she did," said Marjory. "You see, I sit behind Mrs. Slater in
church--and I'm thankful that it's behind."
"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."
"That's it," agreed Marjory. "One would have to be sure that her back
hair was absolutely perfect to be at all comfortable in front of Mrs.
Slater."
"And that," groaned discouraged Mabel, "is the sort of person I'm to
make my first formal call on."
"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."
"Father has some blank cards," said Bettie, "and he writes beautifully.
I'll get him to do cards for all of us."
"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."
"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."
"There are holes in my best gloves," mourned Bettie. "They came in a
missionary box, and missionary gloves are never very good even to
start with. Besides, Dick wore them first--I never had a _new_ pair of
kid gloves."
"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."
"Goody!" rejoiced Bettie.
"I wish," said Jean, "that my shoes were newer, but I'll get the boys
to black 'em."
"I can't help _you_ out," laughed Mabel. "My shoes are short and fat
and yours are long and slim."
"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."
"We'll have to get up a little earlier to-morrow morning," said Marjory.
"Mercy!" exclaimed Jean, "are you leaving all those chocolate cups on
the fence for _me_ to carry in?"
"Of course not," said obliging Bettie, seizing two. "Come on, you lazy
people."