With Henrietta
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.
"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."
"We--we can't," faltered Bettie. "He has them _now_."
"I'll poke them out through the letter slot," laughed resourceful
Henrietta. "You're not going to escape that formal call. Wait, your
hat's over one ear, Mabel. There now, you're perfectly lovely. Now
don't forget to pick up the cards."
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.
"My goodness!" gasped Jean, "they're not _our_ cards. This one says
'Mrs. Francis Patterson.'"
"And this," said Marjory, picking up another, "says 'John D. Thomas,
sole agent for Todd's shoes.'"
"According to mine," giggled Bettie, "I'm Miss Ethel Louise Cartwright.
What's on yours, Mabel?"
"'With love from Father,'" groaned Mabel.
"What in the world shall we do?" queried Jean, gathering up the
remaining cards. "Not one of them will fit _us_."
"Give them to Simmons in a bunch," suggested Marjory. "He didn't look
at the last lot, so perhaps he won't now."
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.
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.
"We--we came to call," faltered Jean.
"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 granddaughter to meet some of the young people."
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.
"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."
"It's my conscience," groaned Henrietta, dolefully. "I'm in another
scrape."
"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."
Henrietta's infectious laugh gurgled out suddenly and merrily.
"I've frightened four girls almost into spasms," said she. "You see,
Grannie, I told them that they'd _have_ 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?"
"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!"
"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 _every_body's feet."
"Don't grovel too hard in that dress," warned Mrs. Slater.
"Am I forgiven?" implored Henrietta, gathering up her ruffles with
elaborate care.
The girls were not certain. Their pride had been injured and they eyed
Henrietta doubtfully.
"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."
"Ah, _do_ forgive," pleaded extravagant Henrietta, suddenly extending
imploring hands. "I mean it, truly. It _wasn't_ nice of me."
Jean, stooping suddenly, kissed the upturned lips.
"Why!" exclaimed Jean, genuinely surprised, "I didn't know I was going
to do that."
"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."
"Why, Grannie!" exclaimed Henrietta, "don't _you_ know?"
"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."
"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?"
"Were you like Henrietta," queried Jean, "when you were young?"
"My dear, you've found me out," laughed 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."
"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."
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.
"So," said Marjory, "_that's_ what Mrs. Slater is like inside."
Mabel, unable to bear them longer, was recklessly peeling off her
lemon-colored gloves.
"She's lovely, inside and out," declared Bettie, "but I never dreamed
that she was like _that_."
"She wouldn't have cared if I _had_ gone without gloves," mourned
aggrieved Mabel. "I'd like to pay Henrietta back for _that_."
"Girls," asked Marjory, "do you _like_ Henrietta?"
"I adore her," declared Jean.
"I _think_ I like her," said Bettie.
"I know _I_ don't," asserted Mabel, waving her throbbing hands in the
evening breeze to cool them.
"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."
"She seems more than fourteen," murmured Jean, dreamily.
"That's because she's traveled so much," explained Bettie.
"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."
"And you never know," supplemented Marjory, "which way it's going to
be."
"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?"