"It seems queer to settle down the way we have, ever since Christmas.
We had such fun up to that time." Hazel heaved a long sigh as she
wrestled with her Latin and the Third Conjugation.
Rose looked up from her Cicero and smiled at the bored expression on
Hazel's face. "I know, Latin is awfully dull at first, but when you can
read it, you 'll like it. If only you could hear Cicero give this
horrid Catiline--the old traitor--'Hail Columbia' as March says, you
could n't help liking Latin. Then, too, if we had n't settled down,
where would my French have been?"
But Hazel still pouted a little. "I wish papa had n't wanted me to
study at all this winter--I don't see why, when Doctor Heath is always
talking about its 'effect on my health--'"
She was interrupted by a merry laugh. Rose threw down her Cicero,
caught away the grammar from Hazel, and, seizing her by the hand, drew
her into the little bedroom. Then, taking her by the shoulders, she
whirled her about until she faced the small looking-glass.
"There!" she exclaimed, still laughing, "look at that face before you
talk about any 'effect on your health.'"
Hazel looked at the reflection in the mirror, and smiled in spite of
herself. What a contrast to what she was a year ago! For to-morrow
would be St. Valentine's day. There were real American Beauty roses on
her cheeks; the dark eyes were full of sparkling life; the
chestnut-brown hair fell in heavy curls upon her shoulders. She had
grown tall, too, but rounded in the process, and the healthful, bodily
exercise had given her grace of carriage--she was straight as an arrow,
and as lithe as a willow wand.
"Perhaps I shall feel more interest when Miss Alton is here, for she is
a regular teacher. When is she coming, Rose?"
"The very last of the month, when the spring term opens. It's our turn
to have the district-school teacher board with us, and I 've never liked
it before. But now I can't wait for Miss Alton to come. I think she 's
lovely."
"She is n't half as lovely as you are, Rose," said Hazel, turning
suddenly from the glass, in which she had been scrutinizing her
reflection, and giving Rose an unexpected squeeze and a hearty kiss. "I
think you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, I heard Doctor
Heath say so; and--I told Jack so on Christmas night."
"I 'll warrant he did n't agree with you," said Rose, with a pleased
smile. "You forget Miss Seaton."
"I know." Hazel shook her head dubiously. "He did n't say a word to me
about you--I don't care if he did n't, Rose-pose, you 're worth all the
Maude Seatons in the world, and I 'd give anything to have you for my
real cousin instead of her, if only Jack--"
"I don't know what you are talking about, Hazel," said Rose,
interrupting her shortly and sharply.
"And I don't know why you are speaking to me in that tone, Rose
Blossom," retorted Hazel, both angry and hurt. "I 've said nothing I 'm
ashamed of, and I shall say it whenever I choose and to whomever I
please, so now." She flung out of the room, but not before Rose had
laid a firm hand upon her shoulder.
"Hazel Clyde, if ever you speak of that again to anyone, I 'll break
friendship with you, see if I don't."
"Break then," Hazel twitched her shoulder from under the detaining hand.
"I 'll speak whenever I choose. I only said I thought you were the most
beautiful girl I had ever seen, and I wished that you were going to be
my real cousin, instead of Miss Seaton, and you need n't get mad just
because Jack does n't happen to think as I do--"
"Hazel Clyde!" Rose stamped her foot, "don't you speak another word to
me; I 'll not hear it." Rose stuffed both fingers into her ears, and
beat an ignominious retreat to her own room, where she shut herself in,
and was invisible until tea-time.
The family were late in sitting down to the table, for Mrs. Blossom
wanted to wait for Chi, who had driven down to Barton's River to take
Mr. Blossom to the train, and had arranged to bring March home with him.
It was seven already. "We won't wait any longer, children," said Mrs.
Blossom. "Something must have detained Chi. Budd, you may say 'grace'
to-night?" she added as she took her seat.
Budd looked up in amazement. "Why, Martie, Rose is here and you
always--"
"That will do, Budd," said his mother, quietly, ignoring the flame that
shot up to the roots of Rose's hair, and the cool look of indifference
on Hazel's face. Budd folded his pudgy hands and repeated reverently
the words he had heard father, or mother, or sister say ever since he
could remember. Scarcely had he finished when Tell's deep note of
welcome sounded somewhere from the road, and the sleigh-bells rang out
on the still air.
"There they are!" cried Cherry. "May I go to meet them?"
"Yes--but put your cape over you, it's so chilly to-night."
In a minute Cherry was back again, every single curl bobbing with
excitement.
"Oh, Martie! Chi's bringing in something all done up in the buffalo
robe, and March won't tell me what it is."
She was followed by March, who walked up to his mother, put both arms
about her and gave her a quiet kiss.
"There, little Mother Blossom, is my valentine for you," he said
half-shyly, half-proudly, and placed in her hands his first term's
report and a set of books.
"Oh, March, my dear boy!" said his mother, rising from the table and
placing both hands on the broad, square shoulders of her six foot
specimen of youth, "I 'm afraid I 'm getting too proud of you. _Did_
you get the first Latin prize?"
"You bet I did, Martie." March's rare smile illumined his face. "There
is n't another fellow at Barton's, who can boast of such a mother as I
have, and I was n't going to let any second-class mothers read those
books before you did. By Cicky!" (which was March's favorite name for
the famous orator)--"But I 've worked like a Turk, and I 'm hungry as a
Russian bear. Why, Rose, what's the matter with you? You look awfully
glum, and Hazel, too. Here comes Chi; he's bringing something that will
cheer you up. The truth is, mother, these girls miss _me_."
"Indeed, I do, March?" said Hazel, looking straight up into his eyes and
showing the amazed lad tears trembling in her own.
"Guess there 'll be some breakin' of hearts, this year, Mis' Blossom."
Chi's cheery voice was welcome to them all for some unknown reason. He
came in loaded with huge pasteboard boxes.
"Your arms will break first, Chi," said Mrs. Blossom, hastening with
March to relieve him.
"It ain't the heft of 'em, it's the bulk. Valentines are generally
pretty light weight. Romancin' 'n' sentiment don't count for much,
nowadays, though they take up considerable room." He deposited the last
box on the settle. "'N' there's a whole parcel of things come by mail.
I ain't looked at the superscribin's--you read 'em out, Rose-pose."
Rose read the addresses; there was more than one missive for each member
of the family.
"Let's have supper, first, mother," said March, "then, after the table
is cleared, we can sit round and guess who they 're from."
This proposition was welcomed by Budd and Cherry. Rose and Hazel gave a
cordial assent, but there was a frigidity in the atmosphere which the
outside temperature did not warrant. Chi and March were aware of this
so soon as they entered the room, and Mrs. Blossom had known it the
moment she saw the girls' faces at the table. She thought it not wise to
interfere, but let matters straighten themselves in good time. She felt
she could trust them both to see things in their right light, without
the aid of her mental glasses.
"Now let's begin," said Chi, rubbing his hands in glee as, directly
after supper, he piled the boxes on the table while March laid the
envelopes in their proper places before each member of the family.
"This top one says 'Miss Hazel Clyde.' Show us your valentine,
Ladybird."
"They 're violets--from Jack, I know. He always sends them. What's
yours, Rose?" She spoke rather indifferently.
"Oh, roses!" Rose was having the first look all to herself. "The
loveliest things I have ever seen. Look, Martie!" Rose held up the
mass of exquisite bloom, and the children oh'ed and ah'ed at the sight.
"They 're from Mr. Sherrill," said Rose, trying to speak in a most
common-place tone, but, in her excitement, failing signally.
"They are lovely," Hazel remarked, shooting an indignant glance at Rose.
"They're just like the ones he sent Miss Seaton last year, only they
were formed into a great heart. Papa gave me one just like it; he got
his idea from Jack."
Rose suddenly put down the flowers, in which she had buried her face to
inhale their fragrance, as if something had stung her.
"Mr. Sherrill is very impartial with his favors," she said in a tone
that increased the pervading chill of the domestic atmosphere.
"Why, Rose!" exclaimed Mrs. Blossom. "It is not like you to receive a
favor so ungraciously; you 've never had flowers sent you before, and I
'm sure you would never have them again if the donor could witness your
reception of them."
"I don't care for them again, thank you." Rose retorted with flaming
cheeks; "I 'd give more for this of yours, Chi--" she opened a huge
yellow envelope, and took from it a scarlet cardboard heart, with a
small, white, artificial rose glued to the centre and a gilt paper arrow
transfixing both rose and heart.
Chi hemmed rather awkwardly, thinking: "Beats the Dutch what's got into
Rose-pose to-night. I ain't ever known her to treat a livin' soul so
shabby as that in all her life. Beats all what gets into women 'n'
girls, sometimes; when a feller thinks he's doin' 'em just the best turn
he knows how, they up 'n' get mad with him, 'n' turn the cold shoulder,
'n' upset things generally." But aloud he said:
"I 'm glad it pleases you, Rose. Can't most always tell when it's goin'
to please a girl or not. I suppose Jack, now, thought you 'd be tickled
to get those posies just in the dead of winter. They don't grow round
here on our bushes. What's in the other box?"
"Why!" Hazel exclaimed, laughing rather half-heartedly, "it's addressed
to 'Miss Maria-Ann Simmons'--and just look, Mother Blossom! See what
that dear old Jack has sent her! He's just too dear for anything." She
added emphatically;--"I 'd like to give him a kiss for thinking of that
poor girl all alone over there on the Mountain. I don't believe she
ever had a valentine before. Look! Oh, look!"
She took out of the many layers of wadding a mass of yellow tulips,
their closed golden cups shining in the lamp-light as if gilded by
sunbeams.
"Sho!" was all Chi said, leaning nearer to examine the beautiful
blossoms.
"You 'll take them over in the morning, early, won't you, Chi?" said
Hazel, replacing them.
"First thing, Lady-bird; guess you 're right, Rose, about that young
feller's bein' 'n all-round man with his favors. Don't seem to be much
choice between you and Marier-Ann, 'n' that Miss Seaver. Kind of a
toss-up, hey, Rose-pose?"
But Rose was too busy with another package to answer Chi. She grew
wildly enthusiastic over the calla lilies that Alan Ford had sent her,
and caressed their white envelopes, and praised their pure loveliness,
until Hazel, growing jealous for poor Jack and his discarded gift, rose
to put the neglected beauties in water, saying as she did so:
"I 'm sure, Rose, if Jack had known you cared so much for lilies, he
would have sent you some Easter ones, they 're out now. I 'll tell him
to next time."
"Hazel!" Rose burst forth indignantly, "do you mean to tell me you told
Mr. Sherrill to send me these flowers for a valentine?"
Then Hazel, stung by the tone and the words, yielded to temptation--for
it had been the last straw. "What if I did?" she said with irritating
calm, "he 's my cousin. I suppose I can say what I choose to him."
Rose answered never a word; but, rising, took the La France roses from
the pitcher in which Hazel had just placed them, and, going over to the
fireplace, deliberately cast the mass of delicate pink bloom into the
fire.
Mrs. Blossom looked both puzzled and shocked; this was wholly unlike
Rose. What could it mean? The children were too awed by the proceeding
to speak or exclaim. March looked gravely at Hazel, who burst into
tears--it was such an insult to Jack!--and rushed into her bedroom and
shut the door.
"I 'm going to bed; good-night, Martie," said Rose, quietly, after she
had watched the last leaf shrivel in the flame, and, kissing her mother,
she lighted her candle and went upstairs. Mrs. Blossom, following her
with her eyes, felt that she had lost her "little Rose" in that hour.
March looked grave, complained of feeling tired, and said he would go to
bed, too, as to-morrow was the last day of school and there were two
more examinations to take. Budd and Cherry kissed their mother twice,
bade her good-night in suppressed tones and crept upstairs. "It's just
as if somebody was sick in the house," said Cherry, in an awed voice.
Budd's was sepulchral:--
"It's just as if somebody was dead and all the flowers had come for the
funeral."
Across the dining-room table, loaded with boxes and brilliant with
valentines, Chi looked at Mrs. Blossom, and Mrs. Blossom looked at Chi.
The whole affair was so incomprehensible, and the result so painfully
disagreeable, that, for a while, they found no words with which to give
expression to their feelings. Chi broke the silence:--
"Well! I wish I was one of those clairivoyants they tell about, 'n'
could kind of see into the meanin' of this flare-up of Rose-pose's.
Don't seem natural for Rose to go flyin' off at a tangent that way.
What's she got against him, anyway? He 's about as likely as you 'll
find. Beats me!" Chi leaned both elbows on the table, unmindful that
he was crushing some of the flowers, sank his chin in the palms of his
hands and thought hard for full a minute.
"I know Hazel and Rose have had some little trouble this afternoon--the
first quarrel they have had--but Rose is too old to allow herself to
lose her control in that way. I can't imagine what made her--" Mrs.
Blossom broke off suddenly, for Chi had raised his head and sent such a
look of intelligence across the table, handing her, as he did so, Jack
Sherrill's card, which Rose in her confusion had neglected to read,
that, in a flash, something of the truth was revealed to Mrs. Blossom.
She took the card. On the back was written, enclosed in quotation
marks:--
"For I am thine
Whilst the stars shall shine,
To the last--to the last."
"O Chi!" was all Mary Blossom said; but the tears filled her eyes, and,
reaching across the table, her hand was clasped in Chi's strong one.
"I wish Ben was to home," sighed Chi, so lugubriously that Mrs. Blossom
laughed through her tears.
"Oh, it is n't so bad as that, Chi. Girls will be girls, and grow up,
and hearts will ache even when we 're young. We won't make too much of
it. I don't understand the ins and outs of it, but I do know Hazel has
said her family thought he was engaged to Miss Seaton. I 'm sure I 've
thought so all along, and it never occurred to me there could be any
danger for Rose under the circumstances. The mere fact of his name being
connected so closely with Miss Seaton's would be a safeguard. Then,
too, I fear he is spoiled by women on account of his riches."
"I don't know about that Miss Seaver,--but if it's as you say, I kind of
wish Rose could cut her out."
"Sh-sh, Chi!" said Mrs. Blossom, reprovingly.
"Well, I do," Chi retorted with some warmth. "She ain't fit to tie
Rose's old berryin' shoes, 'n' I saw her lookin' at her feet that day we
was sellin' berries down to Barton's to the tavern, 'n' snickerin' so
mean like, 'n' Rose just showed her grit--'n' I wish she'd show it again
'n' cut her out. I _do_, by George Washin'ton!" Chi rose up in his
wrath, lighted his lantern, and started for the shed. At the door he
turned:--
"I wish Ben was to home," he said again. "There 's goin' to be the
biggest kind of a snow-down before long, 'n' he 'll get blocked on the
road, sure as blazes."
"He 'll be back in two days, at the most, Chi; I would n't worry."
"I ain't worryin'; I 'm just sayin' I wish he was to home," repeated
Chi, doggedly, and shut the door.
Mrs. Blossom smiled. She knew Chi's crotchets. When there was any
disturbance of the family peace, Chi was apt to be depressed, and
sometimes despondent. She put away the flowers in the cold pantry,
smiling as she tied up Maria-Ann's box:
"He _is_ universal," she said to herself. "I know it irritated Rose to
be classed with her and Miss Seaton; but things will work around right
with time. I can trust to Rose's common-sense.--Not a prayer to-night!"
she added thoughtfully. "Well, we 'll make it up to-morrow." She took
up the prize books. "That dear March! What a manly fellow he is
getting to be--and so handsome. I wonder--" here Mary Blossom checked
herself, laughing softly. "Goodness! if Ben were here what a goose he
would think me--a regular old Mother Goose--" And again she laughed as
she put out the light.