Christmas morning dawned cloudy and very cold, but it had stopped
snowing, and after a while the sun came out and turned the country
into a radiant, dazzling spectacle.
Cynthia and the boys went forth to dig out some of the paths and have
a good time in the snow. Bob, frantic with delight, ploughed about
in the drifts, jumping, diving, shaking off the dry flakes, and
turning wonderful somersaults, to the great entertainment of Janet
and Willy, who, too small to venture out before the paths were cut,
watched the others from the window.
A gigantic snow man was in course of construction when it became time
to go to church, and they all bundled themselves up in furs and warm
clothes, and packed themselves in the three-seated sleigh under the
buffalo-robes. It was great fun to drive the three miles to the
village after such a storm, the children thought, for, although a
four-horse team had been sent out early from Oakleigh to break the
road, their progress was slow and exciting.
Then came the Christmas dinner, with turkey and plum-pudding and
mince-pie, and plenty of laughter and jokes, and after that the
family settled down to read their new books, look at their presents
anew, and amuse themselves in various ways.
The Franklins were to have a party during the holidays, and it had
been planned for the following Tuesday--New Year's Eve.
"If we had only arranged to have it earlier we might have escaped
that horrid Bronson," said Cynthia, regretfully, the day after
Christmas. "Now, of course, he will come with the Morgans, and,
worse still, we shall have to be polite to him in our own house."
"I should hope so," said Edith. "You were rude enough to him at the
picnic, and I do think good manners are so attractive. I am going to
cultivate them as much as possible. No one will ever like you unless
you are polite, Cynthia."
"I seem to have plenty of friends," returned her sister, composedly,
"and I don't really care to have Bronson like me. In fact, I would
rather prefer that he shouldn't. I wouldn't consider it much of a
compliment to be liked by a--a--_creature_ like that!"
It would be impossible to convey an idea of the contempt in Cynthia's
voice as she said this.
"And if you are going to have such lovely manners, I should think it
would be just as well to begin at home," she added.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I don't suppose you will like it, but really, Edith, sometimes
it does seem as if you just tried to hurt mamma's feelings. I know I
ought not to say this, perhaps, for you think I am only a younger
sister, I suppose, and haven't any right to lecture you; but when I
remember how nice you really are, I can't bear to have you act so.
If you only would try to like her, instead of trying not to like her!
There, don't cry, dear; I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
And Cynthia threw her arms around her sister and kissed her.
"You have hurt them," said Edith, with a sob, "but I know I deserve
it. I don't know what has gotten into me since the Gordons came. I
can't like her being here. Oh, Cynthia, you don't know how I feel
sometimes! I wish I didn't have such bad, wicked thoughts."
"Do you really try to get over it, Edith?"
"No-o, not very hard," she faltered; "I can't forgive her for coming
and taking my place, and--and--I don't want to forgive her. There, I
know you will think I am bad and horrible and everything else, but I
can't help it."
And, rising abruptly, she left the room.
"Poor old Edith!" sighed Cynthia, compassionately. "She will come
round some time; she can't help it."
Now that Christmas was over, the Franklins devoted themselves to
coasting, which, owing to a slight thaw and a freeze, had become
excellent. It slightly lessened the pleasure of Cynthia and Neal
that the Morgans, with Tony Bronson in attendance, usually met them
on their favorite hill with their sleds; but the Christmas spirit was
in the air, and nothing was said or done to mar the peace, and to
outward seeming the two boys were perfectly good friends.
On New Year's Eve was to be the Franklins' party.
"Edith, we must have it very original and unique, something quite
different from anything we have ever had in our lives," said Cynthia,
a few days before.
"How can we? There's nothing new."
"Yes, there is, right in my head. I have an idea."
"What in the world is it?"
"Well, I'll tell you," and she proceeded to unfold it.
It proved to be a good one, and with Mrs. Franklin's help it was
carried into effect. The suggestion was to have a "character" party,
but to enact the parts without dressing especially for them. A list
was made of persons well known in history or fiction, and from this
list Mrs. Franklin chose those she considered the best, and wrote
against each name that of some girl or boy in Brenton. This she did
without telling her daughters how she had apportioned the parts, that
they might be as ignorant as their guests about one another's
characters.
"It is a truly Bostonese party," said Mrs. Franklin, laughing, when
they talked it over. "There is an intellectual flavor to it that you
wouldn't find far away from 'the Hub,' but it is a capital idea,
nevertheless, Cynthia."
When the list was duly made Mrs. Franklin drove about Brenton to the
various girls and boys who were expected, and invited them for
Tuesday evening, explaining to them at the same time what they were
to do.
It was an old-fashioned tea-party, and the guests began to arrive at
six o'clock. There were twenty in all, and they came hurrying in out
of the cold, and up-stairs to remove their heavy wraps, the girls
tripping down again in their dainty evening dresses, while the boys
stood about the doorways in rather an aimless fashion, wondering what
they were expected to do at such a very peculiar tea-party as this
seemed to be.
It added to the mystery that each was given a card with his or her
own name prettily printed upon it, and a little pencil attached.
"I never heard of anything like it, don't you know," drawled Bronson.
"I'll be hanged if I know what to talk about."
After supper, which was very jolly and effectually broke the ice, Mr.
Franklin made a little speech.
"You are all supposed to be somebody, and no one but my wife knows
which is which," he said. "The object is for each one to guess as
many characters as possible from their conversation, and when you
have made up your mind who some one is, you will write the name on
your card, with the name of the person you are guessing about. When
your card is filled with twenty-four names, which means that you have
given a guess about every one here, you will hand it in. Then the
prizes will be bestowed."
"Prizes!" was murmured by the girls; "how lovely!" while the boys
looked relieved as the matter became clearer.
Cynthia turned to her nearest neighbor and began to talk.
"Good-evening!" she said; "did you see anything of my broom? I
forgot to bring it along. Dear me, there's a lot to be done up
there," gazing towards the ceiling; "why didn't I bring it along?"
The neighbor chanced to be Dennis Morgan.
"I haven't seen your broom," he replied, "but I'm going to find out
why you want it. The trouble is, I've come too soon, I think, and I
can't find my way; but I can't tell you where I want to go, or you
would guess me on the spot."
"Ho!" laughed Cynthia; "I know where you want to go. I think you
would like a glass of water, wouldn't you? For I am sure you have
burned your mouth," she added, in a whisper.
Then she wrote on her card: "Dennis Morgan--Man in the Moon."
"Pshaw! How did you guess me so soon? And I haven't the ghost of an
idea who you are. Let me see, you want your broom. I can't imagine
why you need a broom."
"Cobwebs, cobwebs everywhere," murmured Cynthia, as she turned away
and listened to the conversation that was being carried on between
Neal and Gertrude Morgan.
"I'm a wonderful man," said Neal. "In fact, I don't know but what
I'm about as great a person as you ever heard of. You can't mention
my name without alluding to it."
"I don't believe you are half as great as I am," retorted Gertrude,
"only I don't talk as much about it. Why, I am a queen."
"And I am a king. What kind of a queen are you?"
"I rule over a very important kingdom, and not only do I reign but I
can cook, too. I am one of those very convenient people to have
about that can turn their hand to almost anything, but I am chiefly
celebrated for my cookery. I made something very nice one hot summer
day--"
"Take care, Gertrude!" cried Cynthia; "I know you." And she wrote on
her card: "Gertrude Morgan--Queen of Hearts."
"Oh come, Cynth, that's too bad!" exclaimed Neal. "I can't guess her
at all, but it's because I am so taken up reading a wonderful book
when I am very young, and making colored candles, and all that sort
of thing."
"Why, I thought you said you were a king?" said Gertrude.
"So I am; a terribly good sort, too."
At last Gertrude guessed him, and wrote "Alfred the Great" with his
name on her card.
Neal, however, could not discover who she was, not being as well
posted in "Mother Goose" as was Cynthia.
The one who was most mysterious was Edith. For a long time no one
could imagine who she was.
"I have had a great many adventures," she said, as they gathered
about her. "I have travelled to places that the rest of you have
never been to. I have played games with a duchess, and I've taken
care of a duchess's baby. A great many of my friends talk poetry. I
have long, light hair, and sometimes I'm tall and sometimes I'm
short."
"Never short, Edith, I'm sure," said Neal. Every one laughed, for
they teased Edith about her stately height.
"I know you! I know you!" cried Cynthia, dancing with glee; "you
told too much that time," and she hastily scribbled "Alice in
Wonderland" on her card.
She herself, as the "Old woman who swept the cobwebs from the sky,"
was easily guessed, much to her own chagrin.
At last each one had written twenty-four names on his or her card,
and they were given to Mrs. Franklin for inspection. Some funny
mistakes were made, and as they were read out they created much
merriment.
Somebody thought Yankee Doodle must be Paul Revere, because he had
been spoken of as a rider; Julius Cæsar and Columbus were hopelessly
mixed, both having mentioned themselves as crossing the water, and it
being impossible, from the description given, to distinguish between
the Rubicon and the Atlantic Ocean; the Lady of the Lake and
Pocahontas were confused, as they each saved a life; and every one
mistook the Old Woman that lived in a Shoe for Puss in Boots, because
of her persistent talk about foot-wear.
Cynthia bad made a greater number of correct guesses than any one,
but as she was one of the hostesses she could not, of course, claim a
prize, so it fell to Tony Bronson, who was next on the list. Cynthia
turned away to hide the grimace which she could not repress when the
dear little clock in a red-leather case was given to him as first
prize.
Kitty Morgan, Gertrude's cousin, was awarded the "booby" prize, for
having made the poorest guesses--a dainty little pin, which, she
said, quite repaid her for her stupidity; while one of the Brenton
girls, whose list was next best to Bronson's, received a pretty
silver-framed calendar as "Consolation."
It made a merry evening, and after the game was over they danced and
played other games until it was time to go home. It was eleven
o'clock when the last sleigh drove away.
"Only an hour to midnight," said Cynthia; "can't we sit up and see
the old year out? Do, papa, let us! We never have, and it must be
such fun. We couldn't go to sleep, anyhow, after such an exciting
evening."
Mr. Franklin consented, and they sat about the fire discussing the
success of the game and the girls and boys who had been there, one or
two of whom remained for the night at Oakleigh.
Neal and Cynthia were alone for a few moments. They had gone out
into the hall to see the hour by the tall clock, and they found the
hands pointing to ten minutes of twelve.
"Let us wait here for it to strike," said Cynthia, going to the
window.
The lamp had gone out in the hall, and it was but dimly lighted from
the room where the family were sitting. Outside, the moon was
shining on the white fields and frozen river. The old year was dying
in a flood of glory.
"I always feel so full of good resolutions on New Year's Eve," said
Cynthia, in a low voice; "I wish I could keep them all."
"So do I," returned Neal. "I am always turning over a new leaf. I
must have turned over three volumes of new leaves by this time. But
they don't amount to much."
"It is discouraging, isn't it? I have never said anything about it
to any one before. It seems to me I am always breaking my good
resolutions."
"I don't see how. First of all, it doesn't seem as if you did
anything that is wrong--a girl doesn't have much chance to."
"Oh yes, she does. You don't know. And I have so many faults.
There are my bureau drawers--I can't keep them neat, and my clothes
would be all in tatters if it were not for Edith and mamma. And,
worst of all, there is my tongue."
"Your tongue?"
"Yes. It is such fun to make fun of people and say sharp things when
I don't like them--the kind of thing I am always saying to that
Bronson."
Neal laughed, and then he sighed.
"You are putting me into a bad corner. If you think your faults are
so tremendous, what must you think of mine? I'm a thief and a
coward."
"Neal!"
"Yes, I am. I am a thief because I don't pay that money. I had no
business to borrow it in the first place, and I could save it out of
my allowance if I would take the trouble, but I am too lazy; and I am
such a coward I won't ask Hessie for it, because I am ashamed to have
your father know it. It's all a nasty business, anyway."
He looked moodily out on the snow, drumming his fingers on the
window-pane.
"Neal," said Cynthia, softly touching his arm with her hand as she
spoke, "let's turn over one more new leaf. I will look out for my
tongue and my bureau drawers, and you will tell mamma everything and
start fresh. Will you, Neal? Promise!"
Before he answered the clock began to strike.
"Happy New Year! Happy New Year!" was heard from the parlor. "Neal
and Cynthia, where are you? Come in here, that we may all be
together when the clock stops striking."
So the old year died, and Neal had not given the required promise.
One day, shortly before he returned to St. Asaph's, he said to his
sister:
"Hessie, if I had been of age I think I would have tried to break
that will of grandmother's."
"Oh, Neal dear, don't say that! What do you mean?"
"Well, it isn't that I mind your having the money; you have always
been a brick about keeping me supplied; but the trouble is, I need
more than you give me."
"Neal, I am afraid you are spending too much," said Mrs. Franklin,
looking at him anxiously. "Are you in debt again? You know I would
love to give you all I have, but your guardians and the trustees of
the estate and John all think that you have a very large allowance
for a school-boy, and it would not be a good plan to let you have any
more."
"Bother them all!" exclaimed Neal, seizing the poker and giving the
fire an angry thrust. A shower of sparks flew out, but he let one
burn a hole in the rug without noticing. "I'm tired of being tied to
your apron-string. I've a good mind to cut loose altogether."
"Don't say that!" cried Mrs. Franklin, in distress, going to him and
putting her arm through his. He was taller than she, and she had to
look up at him.
"If it were only you, it would be different," continued her brother;
"but you see you're married now, and everything is changed."
"But John is fond of you, Neal; I know he is. But he knows all about
boys, and his advice is good. Would--would five dollars help you?"
"You're a good little soul, Hessie," said Neal, looking down at her
affectionately, his momentary ill-humor passing, "and I suppose it is
not your fault if you can't give me any more. No, thank you; I won't
take the fiver. Don't worry about me. Here comes Jack in the
cutter; we're going to the village." And in a moment he was off.
The next day he went back to St. Asaph's.
The winter passed quickly after Christmas had come and gone, and all
had settled down again to the regular routine of work. Mrs. Franklin
could not help feeling anxious about Neal. She confided her fears to
her husband, but he made light of them.
"The boy only wanted more spending-money, Hester. He is very
extravagant, and you will be doing very wrongly if you supply him
with more money. His allowance is too large, at any rate, for a boy
of his age. Jack gets along perfectly well with just one-fifth the
amount."
"But Jack is different,"
"Very different, and Neal ought to be different, too. You paid his
debts in the fall, which were enormous for a school-boy, and then he
was free to start afresh. You will never cure him of extravagance if
you keep him supplied with all the money he wants."
Mrs. Franklin was forced to acknowledge the truth of her husband's
remarks. She said no more, though she was none the less worried.
Cynthia noticed that her step-mother was not as light-hearted as
formerly. They were going in to Boston one Saturday morning to do
some shopping together. Cynthia had decided to buy a watch with Aunt
Betsey's money, and she had brought the gold pieces with her.
"I am so afraid of losing them I don't know what to do," she said.
"Fifty dollars is so enormous, isn't it? Please take it in your bag,
mamma; I know I shall lose it."
Mrs. Franklin smiled absently, and when she had put away the money
she looked out of the window again.
"Mamma," said Cynthia, leaning towards her, "you are worried about
something, aren't you? Tell me, is it Neal?"
Mrs. Franklin looked startled.
"I did not know I had such a tell-tale face," she said; "yes, you
have guessed it, Cynthia. I cannot help feeling worried about him.
I have not heard from him for some time, and that makes me uneasy.
But it is just fancy, and will pass off. Probably there will be a
letter from him to-night."
Cynthia also had remarked on Neal's silence, and this confirmed her
fears. She did not say anything more to Mrs. Franklin, however, for
Neal had again made her promise to repeat nothing he had told her.
"I'll never confide in you again if you tell," he had said; so, of
course, Cynthia had promised.
Her mind was busy during the remainder of the trip to Boston, and
when the train glided into the station she had determined to put her
thoughts into action.
"We will go to Shreve's and then to Bigelow's to look at watches,"
said Mrs. Franklin, as they walked across the Common. "We had better
look at both places before you decide."
"I have changed my mind, mamma. I don't think I will buy a watch."
"Why, Cynthia!" exclaimed Mrs. Franklin, almost stopping short in her
surprise; "you want one so much!"
"No, I don't think I do--at least, not just now. Let us just go buy
the clothes, and I'll keep Aunt Betsey's money a little longer."
She would give no further explanation, and her mother could not
induce her even to glance at the watches in Shreve's window. No; she
had decided that she did not need one.
When they reached home she took the money and went to her own room.
She was standing by the window, carefully packing the coins in a
little box with cotton, and about to do it up for the mail--for she
knew no better way of sending the money--when she heard the sound of
wheels on the drive.
Looking out, she saw one of the depot carriages approaching, and in
the vehicle was Neal himself.
Full of apprehension, dreading she knew not what, Cynthia dropped the
box of money and flew down-stairs.
It was not vacation, it was the middle of the school-term.
Why had Neal come home?