SUMMER DAYS.
The year passed away uneventfully. Porter and Basil returned to their
home for the holidays, but were back again in the autumn, Mrs. Phillips
having concluded that it would again be necessary for her to spend the
winter in California, as her sister’s health demanded it. There was,
therefore, an unbroken circle in the Holmes family. It was Lisa’s last
year at school, and she was looking forward to being graduated in June.
It was a struggle with her to decide whether or not she should enter
college another year. She was divided between her love of pleasure
and her desire to do her parents honor by winning distinction in a
collegiate course. Lisa had rather a good opinion of her ability, and
fancied she could do or be almost anything with little effort on her
part. There had been a long rivalry between herself and Margaret Green,
and there was great conjecture among the school-girls as to which would
be graduated with highest honors,—a question which would not be decided
until the very last week of school.
“I shall be mortified to death,” Persis confessed to Basil, “if Lisa
does not come out first. I have made such a talk about it. That’s just
like me to talk too much, you know. I get excited and carried away, and
the first thing I know I’m saying all sorts of things I’d better have
left unsaid.”
“Speech is silver, but silence is golden,” replied Basil, who was one
of the silent kind himself.
“I know that. I wish I could remember it. I hate to be wordy. I see the
fault in others fast enough. Connie is a bit that way. There, I needn’t
have said that!”
“You don’t see much of Connie these days.”
“No-o,” doubtfully; “I like Annis best. Grandma once said that the
safest kind of a friend to have was one who helps us to do our best,
and the unsafest,—that’s not exactly the word, but it will do,—the
unsafest the one who doesn’t make it easy for you to do right. And yet,
Basil, do you think we ought to keep away from those to whom we might
do good?”
“That depends upon how strong we are. You know it would be a sort of a
silly thing to do if I were to go with a fellow who was always knocking
me down unexpectedly if I hadn’t muscle enough to give him back as good
as he sent.”
“That’s so. I didn’t realize that it meant something like that.”
“One doesn’t like to be tumbled over in the mud with a broken head for
no reason,” went on Basil, “and yet if we had to fight for honor’s sake
it would be right enough to square off.”
“I understand. You’re a real good brother, Basil. How far off we are
from our subject; we began with Lisa. I think I shall simply sink to
the earth if Margaret comes out ahead.”
“No you won’t,” replied Basil; “or if you do, you’ll bob up serenely.”
Basil was tinkering at Persis’s wheel. He was always ready to do some
kind little act for Persis, and they discussed moral and psychological
subjects with great gravity while Basil was deftly using his tools and
Persis was looking on appreciatively.
A few days after this conversation Persis entered her snuggery and saw
hanging over the door the motto, “Silence is golden.” It was prettily
framed, and the lettering was done in a most artistic manner. “That’s
Basil’s work, I know,” thought the girl. “It’s just like him to do
that. Now, Porter would have given me a copy of ‘Chatterbox’—that’s
just the difference between them. No one but Basil and I will ever know
just what it means; the rest will think it is intended as a hint to
keep quiet while I am studying my lessons. It was awfully good of him
to try to help me in such a nice way,” she thought, gratefully.
The fateful day arrived when Lisa would learn how she stood, and to her
intense chagrin, as well as that of her sisters, it was announced that
Margaret stood first. Miss Adams explained it by saying that Lisa’s
theme displayed less originality than Margaret’s and her examination
papers were more superficial.
For once Lisa was humbled. She was so used to receiving praise for
her brilliancy, so accustomed to having high marks for her glib
recitations, that she could hardly reconcile herself to accepting the
verdict, although inwardly she could but acknowledge it to be just.
In spite of the disappointment, which gave her a feeling of tightness
about the throat, her eyes shone like two stars and there was a red
spot on each cheek as with head held high she hastened to be the
first to offer Margaret her congratulations. One or two of Margaret’s
special friends declared that Lisa’s graceful acknowledgment was done
for effect, but that it was well done. Nevertheless, there was real
bravery in Lisa’s act, and to herself and Miss Adams it represented a
recognition of the justice of the decision. Especially did it seem so
to Miss Adams, who saw tears in the dark eyes when she praised Lisa for
having done so well as to win second honors.
Persis had never in her life loved Lisa more dearly than she did that
day. She passionately declared that it was injustice, favoritism, or
trickery, but Lisa stopped her with a gentle gesture. “It’s all right,
Persis. Thank you for wanting to battle for me, but I can see where
Margaret’s theme is far ahead of mine, and no doubt her examination
papers are the same.” Then she stooped and kissed the disappointed
little sister, making the girl feel a new admiration for Lisa in this
tender mood.
“Anyhow there will not be one of the graduates—not one—so beautiful as
you,” declared Persis, emphatically. And Lisa smiled, feeling quite
sure that she could wear beauty’s palm if the other were denied her.
It was all this which decided the girl not to go to college. “I am
too ambitious to go,” she declared to her parents. “I would want to
be first, and I know I could not be. I have suddenly become aware of
my limitations in an intellectual direction, and I know I could be a
success in the social world.” And she drew herself up, with a glance of
assurance toward her mirror.
“Do you think a purely social life would make you happy?” asked her
father, rather disappointedly. He had been very proud of this handsome
daughter, and had almost expected great things of her. “Mere excitement
is not pleasure, nor does selfish amusement bring happiness. Think it
over daughter,” he advised; “you need not decide just yet.”
“I am sure you have done well,” interposed Mrs. Holmes. “Don’t let this
little disappointment persuade you to give up college. It certainly is
no small thing to stand second in a class of ten girls.”
But Lisa shook her head. “None of the class have much brains except
Margaret. I must be a leader,” she declared. “Don’t look so, papa. It
isn’t very dreadful to say that, is it?”
“That depends entirely upon your motive,” replied her father, slowly.
“If it is love of admiration, I am grieved; if it is because you
feel your best powers can be put to their fullest use in a different
direction, it is another thing. I do not want to think that one of my
daughters would be willing to be a soulless butterfly.”
“I don’t know what it is,” returned Lisa, flushing a little. “I
haven’t analyzed it, so far. Now, mamma, what are the plans for the
summer?”
“It is a puzzling question, dear, and much depends upon you,” replied
her mother. “Mrs. Brown knows of a quiet, pleasant place on the bay
shore, and your grandmother has quite decided to go there. It has
the recommendation of being moderate in price, as well as being
delightfully situated. Persis, of course, is only too ready to go. Mrs.
Phillips, likewise, thinks she will join the party with the two boys,
and, as Basil has determined to do some extra work this summer, that
he may catch up with his class and be ready to take his examinations
in the fall, your father has suggested that Mr. Danforth, one of the
instructors at the college, shall go along to coach him. Mr. Danforth
is anxious to make some such arrangement for the summer, and Persis is
quite sure she will like to go ahead with her Latin under his tutelage.
Your father must go elsewhere on account of his hay-fever, and I, of
course, shall go with him. We feel that we can afford to take only one
of you with us, so now, which shall it be, you or Mellicent?”
“Oh, mamma, I should be bored to death down there where the Browns want
to go. Will there be other boarders?”
“I think our party, including the Browns and the Phillipses, will about
fill the house, which suits the others perfectly.”
Lisa looked annoyed. “I don’t see why there should be any question
of who should go with you,” she said; “only that the mountains agree
with Mellicent much better than the shore, and she is not very well
this spring; she gives signs of inheriting that unpleasant hay-fever.
Then, of course,—oh, mamma, why can’t I go somewhere with some of our
friends?”
“Because it is not every one in whose care I would be willing to have
you go, and you could probably not find any of our intimate friends
going where there is as moderate board as that at Bellingly; and I
should, moreover, have to provide you with a wardrobe more expensive
than I can afford. You know this year we must not expect great help
from grandma.”
Lisa looked very dissatisfied. “Everything comes in a lump,” she
sighed. “I know I would be perfectly miserable down there.”
“The place has many attractions,” Mrs. Holmes continued, comfortingly.
“There is delightful boating, fishing, and bathing; then the drives
around are very pretty, and there will be no disagreeable persons in
the house.”
“No; only old women and school-girls.”
“Pray, how long since you were a school-girl?” laughed Mrs. Holmes.
“I was eighteen last winter.”
“And Persis is scarcely two years younger.”
“Yes; but we always rub each other the wrong way, although, to do Perse
justice, she is less aggressive as she grows older, and for the past
week, since school closed, she has never been hateful once. I don’t see
anything for me, mamma, but to go with grandma. I couldn’t be such a
beast as to refuse when Melly would suffer by it.”
“You relieve my mind very much,” returned Mrs. Holmes. “There may
be pleasant persons in the neighborhood, and you may have a better
time than you expect. One does not always have the happiest time at a
fashionable watering-place.”
This somewhat consoled Lisa, although she made her preparations for her
summer outing in rather a half-hearted way.
Persis, on the contrary, was in great glee over the prospect. To have
grandma and Annis, not to mention her “brother” Basil, was quite enough
to insure her a happy time, she reflected.
“We can have no end of fun,” she said to Lisa. “I don’t see how you
can feel so grumpy over it. In the first place, we don’t have to fuss
over our clothes, and then we can live in the water if we like. I am
crazy to learn to swim, and oh, Lisa, you can learn to ride my wheel;
they say those shell roads are delightful. Then we can go cruising all
around. Papa says Mr. Danforth is a splendid sailor.”
“I wish he, at least, didn’t have to go,” rejoined Lisa. “Who is he,
anyway? Some didactic old Methuselah, I suppose.”
For once Persis kept a golden silence, but a smile of amusement passed
over her face. “Such a joke!” she thought. “I’ll let her be surprised.”
And Lisa certainly was surprised a couple of weeks later, when all of
the party excepting the tutor were comfortably settled at Bellingly,
and the arrival of Mr. Danforth showed her a stalwart young fellow not
over twenty-five, who had been a college student himself only a year
before.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Persis?” demanded Lisa. “You said you had seen
him.”
“I thought you’d enjoy the joke,” returned Persis, demurely. “He took
Professor Hunter’s place the last half-year just to fill in while the
professor was abroad. Basil says he is one of the best athletes in
the college; that what he doesn’t know about sailing a boat and all
that sort of thing isn’t worth knowing. Yet he doesn’t let himself get
carried away by such matters; he is devoted to study, and is just a
regular, nice, manly fellow, not a bit what is called a ladies’ man.”
“I’ve no doubt he is a prig,” decided Lisa. “I shall not bother myself
to entertain him.”
“I don’t suppose he’ll be very miserable if you don’t,” retorted
Persis, with some of her wonted fire.
Nevertheless, when Lisa encountered a pair of keen blue eyes regarding
her across the table she was annoyed at finding herself disposed to
wish the owner might be looking at her with favor, and in consequence
avoided any appearance of giving a friendly notice to the young man.
This, however, in no way disconcerted Mr. Danforth. He devoted himself
specially to Mrs. Estabrook during his leisure time when he was not
boating or riding or fishing with the boys. Two hours each morning were
given to Basil and Persis, and the rest of the day a free-and-easy,
homelike way of occupying himself seemed to be what he preferred.
“I just love to go out in the water,” Persis remarked one day, as with
glowing face she dried her wet locks. “I wish you’d come, Lisa. Mr.
Danforth is such a fine swimmer; he is just like a big sea-lion in the
water; he is teaching Annis and me to swim, and I did ten strokes this
morning. Maybe you’d like rowing better. I didn’t even catch a crab
once yesterday; but, my! I am getting tanned.”
In her secret heart Lisa was sure she would like to know how to use the
oars skilfully. She was a fine tennis player, and was equally devoted
to golf. Such sports always attracted her, but she had made up her mind
that Mr. Danforth ignored her rather too determinedly, and she was
not going to make advances, she told herself. “I don’t like your Mr.
Danforth,” she informed Persis.
“Well, you might treat him civilly,” returned Persis. “You sweep
by him as if he were a small beetle on the floor, and when you say
‘good-morning’ the words sound as if they were wrapped up in a case of
blue ice.”
“How absurd!”
“It’s so. Even Mrs. Brown noticed it.”
“Mrs. Brown!” contemptuously.
“You needn’t be so top-lofty. She’s as good as you are, and lots more
amiable. There, Lisa, I didn’t mean to say that. I promised myself
that if you came down here this summer I wouldn’t say one disagreeable
thing. Come, go out in the boat with the rest of us to-morrow. You know
the water is not deep enough to be unsafe if we don’t go out too far.
Mr. Danforth is going to be busy all morning. He said so.”
To this Lisa graciously agreed, and the next morning was laughing as
merrily as any of them in their boat on the blue waters. But while they
were all rocking and singing in great glee, Lisa making the most of
Basil’s lessons in rowing, they saw another boat coming toward them.
“Hallo, Mr. Dan!” called Porter, catching sight of the occupant; “I
thought you were boxed up till noon.”
“So I thought,” was the reply as the boat came alongside, “but the mail
let me out of my work by bringing me a letter I did not expect, so I
have a respite and couldn’t resist joining you. Here, Basil, you can
take care of Miss Persis and Miss Annis. Porter and I will see that
Miss Holmes overcomes her difficulty,” for Lisa was trying in vain to
keep her oar from flying up in the air, while Basil was laughingly
directing her. And before she could utter a word of remonstrance Mr.
Danforth stepped aboard, steadying the two boats and handing Persis and
Annis into the one he had just left, while Basil exchanged places with
him.
“I am fairly caught,” thought Lisa. “I can’t swim, I can’t run away,
so I’ll have to make the best of it.” And she amiably lent herself to
her task, although finding a very critical and exacting teacher, who
was not disposed to give praise or encouragement simply because she
was a pretty girl, and she felt nettled by his lack of recognition.
“I’m simply a person,” she told herself. “He acts as if I had no
individuality. I don’t believe he knows whether I am old or young,
good-looking or ugly. He is horrid!”
There was, however, nothing rude in Mr. Danforth’s manner; he simply
avoided the little honeyed speeches and the obsequious attentions which
Lisa liked, and she could but admit that he treated her quite as well
as she did him.
“He is much nicer to grandma than he is to me,” Lisa told Persis. “He
says the nicest little complimentary things to her, and he jumps up and
joins her the minute he sees her coming, as if she were the only person
in the place of any account.”
“He just loves grandma,” returned Persis. “He told Basil so.”
“Well, I am very glad,” Lisa averred. “It doesn’t concern me anyway. He
never could be a leader of fashion like Ned Carew.”
“I wouldn’t call him a leader. I would call him just the opposite,”
remarked Persis, her mouth dimpling.
“What would you call him, pray?”
“The off ass,” responded Persis, impudently.
“You are perfectly shocking,” pronounced Lisa, sailing out of the room
and taking her place on the balcony where she could overlook the water.
“That was rather a shameless speech,” Persis admitted to herself. “I
don’t believe I’ll ever learn to be careful of Lisa’s beautiful smooth
feathers. I forgot that she considers Ned Carew one of her special
admirers. How she can like such a flavorless, insipid creature I can’t
imagine. He always reminds me of sugar and water. But I can’t lose
that sunset, Lisa mad or Lisa not mad.” And Persis walked out on the
balcony where her sister sat. “Come, let’s go down to the beach,” she
said, in a conciliatory tone. “Don’t be mad, Lisa. I’ll borrow Annis’s
wheel and we’ll take a little try at riding.” And Persis, bending to
look at her sister, was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
“Why, Lisa, what is the matter?” she inquired, solicitously. “I didn’t
hurt your feelings, did I? It never occurred to me that you were so
very fond of Edwin Carew,” she added, in a half-puzzled way.
“Edwin Carew! I hate him!” cried Lisa. “I hate men anyhow, and I
despise this place. I wish I could go home and stay by myself.”
“Why, you dear, homesick thing,” said Persis, caressingly. “Don’t feel
lonely, sissy. Basil wants some one to ride with him. Take my wheel and
go, won’t you? I’m sure it will cure your blues.”
But Lisa shook her head, and Persis decided to give up the ride to
which she had been looking forward, and to devote herself to amusing
her sister.
[Illustration: Decoration]