MIRIAM PLANS A REVENGE
For weeks Miriam Nesbit had felt a sullen resentment toward her brother,
David, because he persisted in being friends with at least two of the
girls in Oakdale High School whom she disliked most.
When he announced, one morning at breakfast, that he had been included
in Mrs. Gray's house party, his sister suddenly burst into tears of
passionate rage.
"Please don't cry, Miriam, old girl," said David, who was not of a
quarrelsome disposition. "I'm awfully sorry if I hurt you, but, you
know, Mrs. Gray was one of my earliest sweethearts."
Which was perfectly true. When David was a little boy he used to crawl
through the garden hedge and call on the charming old lady nearly every
day.
David had hoped that Miriam would laugh at this, but she stormed all the
more, while poor Mrs. Nesbit looked wretched.
"It isn't Mrs. Gray," sobbed Miriam. "But to think that my own brother
would associate with Grace Harlowe, who is always working against me,
and that common little Pierson girl whose sister takes in sewing!"
"Miriam, Miriam!" exclaimed Mrs. Nesbit, "I am shocked to hear you say
such things. Because the girl is poor she is not necessarily common.
Your grandfather was a poor man, too. He started his career as a
machinist. You would never have had the money and position you have now
if he had not become an inventor. Is it possible you would try to keep
some one else from rising in life, when your own family struggled with
poverty years ago?"
Miriam was silenced for a moment. She had seldom heard her mother speak
so forcibly; but Mrs. Nesbit had seen, with growing misgivings, the
innate snobbishness in her daughter's character, and for a long time she
had been looking for an opportunity like the one that now presented
itself.
David had risen during Miriam's contemptuous speech, and had turned very
white; which was always a signal that his slow wrath had been kindled at
last; but since he was a child he had had such admirable control of his
feelings that it had often been remarked by older people. Miriam,
however, knew the sign and resorted again to tears to draw attention to
her own sufferings.
"You and mother have turned against me," she cried. "Mother, you have
always loved David best, anyhow."
"Nonsense!" replied David. "You are a willful, selfish girl, jealous
because a poor girl is getting ahead of you in your classes and because
you are not included in the house party. Do you think Mrs. Gray would
ask you to join those four nice girls in her house after that Miss Leece
business? If you had learned to be polite and agreeable you would never
have gotten into this state now." Having delivered himself of his
opinion, and spent his rage, David walked out of the room and quietly
closed the door after him.
"You see what you have done, Miriam," exclaimed Mrs. Nesbit. "You have
made your brother angry. I have seldom seen him like that before, not
since the stable man beat his dog. But don't cry, my child. It's all
over now," and Mrs. Nesbit drew her daughter to her and stroked her hot
forehead. "Why don't you give a house party, too?" she added after a
moment's thought. "Would it give you any pleasure or help to heal your
hurt feelings?"
"O mother!" exclaimed Miriam, looking up quickly. "I believe I _will_
invite four girls and boys to spend Christmas week with me. Wouldn't it
be fun?"
And it was in this manner that a plan for an opposition house party
sprang into existence; although the son of the house had joined the
other side.
All through her preparations Miriam carefully guarded the secret that
she was bitterly hurt at having been left out of Mrs. Gray's party, and
she meditated a revenge that was still only a half-formed idea. In the
first place, she chose Julia Crosby as one of the guests of the
Christmas house party; Julia Crosby the tall, mischievous sophomore who
had originated the "Black Monks of Asia." Surely the two together could
work out some scheme which would bring her enemies to her feet and
humble little Mrs. Gray, who had dared to slight her.
Meanwhile, the holidays were approaching. The crisp, cold air resounded
with the jingle of sleigh bells, for snow had fallen the first week in
December and all the sleighs in Oakdale were taken from their summer
quarters.
The four chums were full of secret preparations. Grace had devised a
scheme of entertainment which, in the town of Oakdale, would be unique,
but it required much work and practice to perfect it. In the meantime
Nora O'Malley had decided to entertain her friends at a bobbing party to
start the Christmas holidays. And it was at this party that Miriam
seized her first opportunity to make trouble.
"Anne, you are learned in many things, but not in outdoor fun," said
Grace as the young people in mufflers and sweaters started to climb the
long hill where the coasting was best.
"Do you mean to say you have never been coasting, Anne?" demanded David.
"I'm afraid I'll have to admit it," replied Anne. "To tell the truth, I
never did have any fun, except reading, until I started in the High
School and met all of you. You see, little city children are denied all
these nice things unless they go to the parks, but it's no fun going
alone."
"Well, you won't be alone now," said Hippy Wingate. "There are four to a
sled, and we'll put you in the middle to keep you from getting lost in
the snow."
"Look out, here comes some one!" called Grace, just as a small sled shot
past them like a flash, with a laugh and a cheer from its occupants,
Miriam and Reddy Brooks.
"They ought not to have done that," exclaimed David. "We couldn't see
them over the knob of the hill and they might have run us down."
By this time they had reached the top of the hill, and Anne's heart
bounded at the sight of the long, white track made by the sled which had
just passed them and disappeared far below across a flat meadow now
smooth and hard as a table top.
"Don't be frightened, Anne," said David, who sat behind her on the sled.
He pinioned her arms with his own and with a wild whoop the four young
people skimmed down the hill.
There was no time to be frightened, no time even to think, as they shot
through the fine bracing air like a ball from a cannon. Before they knew
it, they were landed at the bottom.
"O Hippy," cried Grace, her cheeks glowing like winter berries, "I feel
as if I were riding the comet. But look out for the others," for the
remaining sleds followed in quick succession and the air resounded with
the whoops of the boys and girls as they shot past. "Is there any sport
in the world that can touch it?" she demanded of the world in general.
Three or four more such rides, and Anne felt an exhilaration she had
never before known. She was climbing the hill for a final trip before
the party returned to Nora's for hot chocolate and sandwiches, when she
heard some one cry out just behind her. She had lingered a little to
watch the sleds pass, and had failed to notice a small sled with a
single occupant come over the brow of the hill well out of the beaten
path and make straight for her. It was Miriam Nesbit, riding flat on her
stomach and going like the wind.
"Jump to the left, Anne," cried Grace's voice, "or you'll be hurt!"
Anne looked up and saw the sled. It all happened in a flash, and how
David managed to get there first she never knew; but the next instant
the two were rolling over and over in the snow with Miriam on top of
them and a broken sled skidding on its back down the hillside.
"It was Miss Pierson's fault," exclaimed Miriam as she pulled herself
out of the snow, and the others came running to the scene of the
accident. "Why didn't she get out of the way? Inexperienced people ought
not to come to bobbing parties. They always get hurt."
David was binding up a cut in his wrist, which was sprinkling the snow
with blood. He was too angry to trust himself to answer his sister
before the others just then. They had pulled Anne out of a snowdrift and
she was leaning limply against Jessica, trying to collect her senses. It
seemed to her that she had been walking well out of the sled track, out
of everybody's way; but it didn't make any difference since nobody was
killed.
"All I can say now, Miriam," said Grace, "is that you are entirely
mistaken. If you hadn't hit Anne you'd have knocked me over. I was
walking just ahead of her and nobody can say I am inexperienced."
"Grace Harlowe, do you think I did it on purpose?" demanded Miriam
furiously.
"I haven't insinuated anything, Miriam," replied Grace. "I simply wanted
to disabuse your mind of a mistake. That was all." And she turned away
from the angry girl.
All this time the other young people had said nothing. It was really an
embarrassing situation, considering that David had not said a word
either for or against his sister.
"I think we had better not coast any more to-night," said Nora, after a
pause. "David has hurt his hand and Anne is so shaken that it would be
well to give her something hot to drink. Come on, everybody."
"David, are you much hurt?" asked Grace uneasily.
"Nothing but a little cut," he said shortly, so shortly that Grace
flushed. Perhaps he was angry with her for having spoken out to Miriam.
"I hope you aren't hurt much, David," said Miriam.
David made no reply.
"David," she repeated in a louder voice.
But her brother had started down the hill, his hands in his pockets.
Nobody took much notice of Miriam as the young people followed after
him. Reddy Brooks was secretly congratulating himself that he hadn't
been riding behind her on the sled as she had wished, insisting that she
wanted to do the guiding herself. It was curious, he thought, and might
have resulted in a serious accident, at least to Anne if David hadn't
pulled her away. If Miriam had only thought to throw herself to the
right when she saw Anne in the way. Girls had no heads, anyway, that is,
most girls. Grace, he decided, was almost equal to a man for coolness
and good judgment. But there were few girls who could touch Grace
Harlowe; and he did a series of cartwheels in the snow to emphasize his
feelings, to the relief of everybody present, for the silence was
becoming uncomfortable.
"Nora," said Anne when they had reached town, "if you'll excuse me I
think I'll go home. I'm a little tired."
"I'll take you home, Anne," said David, who had heard her remark. "I
don't feel much like partifying either after this jolt. Come along,
little girl," and he tucked Anne's arm in his and marched her off
without another word.
"All my party is leaving before the party," cried Nora in despair.
"No, not all," replied Hippy Wingate. "There are still a few of us left,
and I promise to drink any extra chocolate you may happen to have."
"Don't give the animals sweets, Nora," exclaimed Reddy. "Especially the
hippopotamus. He has a delicate stomach. You see, his keeper used to
feed him chocolate drops three times a day."
Hippy grinned good-naturedly. He was a round roly-poly boy, famous for
his appetite.
"Get away from here, Red Curls," he cried, hitting Reddy in the back
with a snowball.
"Oh, you coward," cried Reddy, talking in a high falsetto voice, "to hit
a man when his back is turned. I'll slap you for that," and he landed a
snowball on Hippy's chest.
Hippy crouched behind the girls.
"I was a fool to throw at a pitcher," he cried; "he'll be sending me one
of his curves in a minute."
"Hiding behind the ladies, hey?" returned Reddy, beginning to pitch
snowballs at the girls.
"Let's wash his face," cried Nora to the other boys and girls coming up
just then. They chased Reddy all the way to Nora's house and rolled him
in the snow until he cried "enough."
Once inside Nora's cozy home, the coasters were soon doing ample justice
to the good things to eat, which Nora's sister had prepared for them.
Although all three of Anne's chums regretted deeply the unpleasant
affair on the hill it was not mentioned again during the evening. Still,
each girl felt in her heart that poor little Anne had, in Miriam Nesbit,
a dangerous enemy.