"Whom in the world do we know in New Hampshire?" asked Julie one
morning, glancing askance at an envelope in her hand.
"Suppose you open it and find out," meekly suggested Hester, peeping
over her shoulder.
"Why, see, it is addressed to us both--it's probably an invitation or
something."
"It is not," asserted Julie; "I can tell by the look of it. It's--why,
Hester Dale, it's a fifty dollar bill."
"What?" ejaculated Hester.
"It is, and a note. Think of daring to trust such a thing by mail! Look
at it yourself."
Hester seized both the bill and the letter, and unfolding the latter
found the following mysterious communication in typewriting:
"From one some love to those one loves, Greetings:
"A conspiracy having been formed for the purpose of circumventing
fate, the initial step is herewith taken in the form of the enclosed
paltry bill, intending it to be the forerunner of many a happy hour
in which, though absent, will be ever present
"The Arch-Conspirator."
"Whoever could have done such a thing?" queried Hester in astonishment,
"Dr. Ware?"
"No, I don't think so, though he might--is capable of doing anything.
But, Hester, just think of it--fifty dollars! Why, it is almost a
fortune!"
"I should think it was, and it is the kindest, most generous thing I
ever heard of. It couldn't be from Virginia, could it?"
"I don't believe so, Hester. Cousin Nancy disapproves of us too much to
do such a thing. I think it is from some one who loves Daddy and feels
sorry for us all, and takes this way of showing it. Oh, how good people
are!"
"Some people," corrected Hester.
"If it had come from almost any other place than New Hampshire it
wouldn't be quite so puzzling," said Julie. "I am sure we don't know a
soul in the whole state."
"Well, I say let's stop guessing and be thankful we have it," advised
Hester. "It is some one who does not want to be known, and I don't
suppose we really ought to try to guess, but I just hope we will get a
chance sometime to do something for that somebody, whoever he is. You
can see the person has had great fun doing it, by the way it is written,
Julie."
"Yes." softly, still puzzling over the unexpected windfall.
"You've got another letter in your lap, Julie. Have you forgotten its
existence? It looks like Nannie's writing--do read it aloud."
Julie took up the forgotten letter, and opening it began:
"My Sweetest, Preciousest Girls" (Isn't that just like Nan?) "You
owe me a letter, both of you; but it's such ages since we've heard
that I just can't wait any longer. I'm _so_ afraid mummie's last
letter hurt you, though I wrote you at the time just not to mind
anything she said. She was awfully cross and put out for several
days, but father and I played backgammon with her until we actually
played her into a good humor--you know how she'd play backgammon
until she couldn't sit up another minute; and I know she loves you
girls nearly as much as she does me, though she sputters away about
you now and then; but that is just mummie's way.
"How I do wish you were here! I say that a dozen times a day, and
whenever father hears me he says you will be, sometime. He's got
just the loveliest scheme for bringing you all down here on a visit,
since you're so proud and haughty and won't come and live with us! I
shan't tell you a thing about it but you just wait until dear Cousin
Dale gets better, and then you'll see!"
Julie's voice got suspiciously husky here, and it was a moment before
she went on:
"We'll have the grandest old times that ever happened, just like we
did when you were here before.
"Do you know I'd almost forgotten to tell you the thing I began this
letter for--my birthday party. I know you want to hear about it! It
was a surprise party, and such fun! To begin with, it was such a
pretty day that I wanted to be out every minute, so I took a long
ride with father in the morning, and spent most of the afternoon in
the pasture with George Washington, he and I trying to do tricks on
Gypsie the way you did, Hester. I said we were _on_ Gypsie, but it
was mostly _off_, for she didn't take to our circus performance at
all and threw me twice, way over her head, and George Washington no
end of times. He just loved it, and capered around and grinned and
made absurd remarks until my sides ached with laughing. Just as I
was actually succeeding in standing upon Gyp bareback, mummie spied
me from her window, and of course that put an end to everything. She
said she saw no reason why I should celebrate my eighteenth birthday
by breaking my neck, and I expect she was right--but oh, it was fun!
"When I came in to dress for supper, father called me one side and
told me to put on my pink organdie (the one you liked so much, you
know), because it would please mummie; so I did and mummie wore her
claret-colored velvet and I picked two of my pet pink roses--one for
Mummie's hair and the other for father's buttonhole, and we all
looked very gay and festive and I thought it was lovely to be
eighteen, especially as mummie had given me that beautiful pearl
ring of hers which she always said I should have when I was a young
lady.
"Well, about nine o'clock, when mummie and I were in the midst of a
game of backgammon, there was a crunching noise out in the driveway
and I thought some one was coming to call. Then I heard laughter and
a lot of people talking, and father went to the door, and let in a
whole crowd calling for me. I was too surprised to understand, even
when father explained that the neighborhood was giving me a surprise
party. (I found out afterward, girls, that he got up the whole
thing--he vowed them all to secrecy, because he didn't want me to
know he had a hand in it, but Lillie Blake told me--Lil never has
secrets from me.)
"Well, we danced in the big hall most of the evening, while the
older people played cards, and we did have a jolly time, and there
was a stranger here--he was staying with the Blakes and you'd never
guess where he's from--Radnor! He's very fascinating, but he's
old--he must be at least thirty! I know that wouldn't seem old to
you, but it does to me, and I felt very shy with him at first until
I found out he came from Radnor, and then I just pelted him with
questions about you, and he didn't know you at all! I could have
wept! But I talked on about you just the same, and I was dying to
tell him about your work, for I think it's so noble of you, but
mummie has forbidden my mentioning it to any one, and, of course, I
wouldn't disobey her. He got the ring in my birthday cake, girls;
wasn't that the funniest thing? Lillie Blake teased him to give it
to her, but he wouldn't, and slipped it in his pocket out of sight.
I know he enjoyed hearing me talk about you, because he stayed with
me a good part of the evening, and Teddie Carroll got cross and
sulked in the corner. Isn't he the silliest thing?
"Good-by, you old darlings, and don't forget your little cousin,
"Nannie."
Julie smiled as she put down the letter. "Isn't she a darling, Hester? I
don't wonder they call her 'Kitten,' she purrs so. And she's so
ingenuous! Imagine her thinking that a man stayed about with her because
she talked about us. He evidently took a fancy to her--the dear little
thing! I wonder who he was."
"She has forgotten to mention his name," said Hester, "but it does not
much matter. Come, Julie, we must switch our thoughts up from Virginia,
or we'll never get to work to-day."
Julie went over to a shelf and stuck the two letters behind a clock. "It
is an inspiration to work," she said, "when we know people are thinking
of us and loving us. That money, dear, is a godsend. We had scarcely
enough left to market another day."
Julie, who was self-appointed buyer, had been racking her brains to know
how they should get through another day without running into debt--a
contingency of which they had a horror. They had stopped all their
father's accounts and were unanimous in agreeing that they would go
without that for which they could not pay cash. Accordingly they went
without a great deal.
In her first experience of marketing Julie was aghast to find that meats
which she regarded as a common necessity cost so much that she was
forced to act upon the butcher's suggestion that it was "stew meat" she
wanted. It was _not_ what she wanted, but she took it meekly and ate it
with pretended relish, for Bridget took pride in serving a genuine Irish
stew.
It was characteristic of the Dales that they never did things by halves,
and they threw themselves with tremendous energy into their work, which
was developing, though still slowly. Orders for wine jelly and cake came
in from people unknown to them, and they knew that Dr. Ware's influence
was working for their good. Miss Ware, too, though outwardly
antagonistic, had carried out her intention of taking Hester's cake to
the Sewing Class, with the result that the hostess of the next meeting
had ordered all her cake from them for that occasion.
This order they were getting to work on now, and Julie remarked that she
wished white cake were not so much in demand, for the continued increase
of left-over yolks was appalling.
"Bridget has made them into omelette at least twice a day lately, until
it seems to me I can't stand the sight of them, Hester. And the more we
have to make frosting the worse it gets. Either we've got to throw them
away in rank extravagance or keep on eating them and die. I wish we
could think of something to do with them!"
"If we only could afford to buy oil, Bridget would make us some
salad-dressing."
"But we can't afford it. Poor Bridget, that is her one accomplishment.
She says she learned it from mamma, who was famous for it."
"Good gracious, Julie!" the practical Hester ejaculated, "don't take to
'reminiscing' with that far-away look in your eyes. You'll be weighing
salt instead of sugar."
"I am not 'reminiscing'--I am thinking. Why can't we make mayonnaise and
sell it?"
"What!"
"Don't drop dead with astonishment, you chief cook and bottle-washer,
because _I_ have an idea. What do you think of it?"
"Ye gods, but wouldn't that be a scheme! Bridget could teach us--you
know how Daddy's friends always said they never got such salads at any
other table!"
"Don't 'reminisce,' my dear."
"We'll get the grocers to sell it," disdaining to notice the pretended
rebuke, "just as they do pickles and things. We'll put it up in nice
bottles, and----"
"Wouldn't it be rather clever to learn how to make it first?"
interrupting this flight into future possibilities.
"Bridget, Bridget, come here!" called Hester.
Bridget, who was brushing up the sick-room, came down the little hall
and entered the kitchen.
"Do you see all those?" cried Hester, pointing to a bowl full of yolks
standing on the table. "Now if you had your own way, what would you do
with them?'
"Make 'em into mayonnaise, miss."
"Of course you would, you extravagant creature! Well, that is just what
we want you to do. Tell her, Julie--it is your scheme."
An amazed and delighted Bridget heard the girl unfold her plan.
"Shure it's a wonder yez are, Miss Julie, the two of yez, an' my
dressin' can't be beat. Could I be after showin' yez how this mornin'?"
"I'll go straight into the grocery now and get a bottle of oil,"
exclaimed Julie, and calling Peter Snooks, she was off in five minutes.
She noticed as she went down the stairs that the door of the apartment
underneath them was ajar, and to her astonishment Peter Snooks, that
most well-behaved of dogs, thrust his nose into the crack and vanished.
She stood a moment irresolute; then called peremptorily: "Snooks, Peter
Snooks! come here this minute!"
No dog appeared, and she was about to raise her voice for the second
time when from the darkness of the inner hall she heard some one
say--"Do you mind coming in just a minute? Your little dog is making
friends with me, and I can't come to you."
She followed the voice to the front room, where a boy lay in a wheeled
chair, while beside him sat Peter Snooks on his hind legs, putting out
his paw to shake hands in his most approved manner. At sight of his
mistress he curled his tail under and crawled to her guiltily. "Don't
scold him, please," said the boy; "it's my fault. I've been wanting to
know him this ever so long."
There was something so appealing in the boy's voice and so penitent in
the way Peter Snooks looked up at her that she patted the little rascal,
and said brightly:
"I never knew him to play truant before; but if you and he have made
friends I shan't apologize for his intrusion or mine."
"Oh no! don't," said the boy. "I've watched you from the window ever
since you came here to live, and I feel somehow as if I sort of knew
you."
"Are you ill?" she asked, gently.
"Broke my hip two months ago," he said. "It's a long time mending."
"Oh! I am so sorry--I know how hard it must be--my father is--is ill,
too." She never could bring herself to put into words her father's
actual condition.
"I wish you would sit down," the boy said. "Mother may be in any moment.
You can't think how it cheers a fellow up to see somebody." He spoke
hesitatingly, as if he feared to show too great pleasure lest he give
her offense.
"I can't stop, thank you," said Julie, suddenly remembering her errand,
"but if you are lonely and would like to have me, I will leave Peter
Snooks awhile with you--he's no end of company."
"Oh! would you, really?" The boy's eyes glistened. "I wish mother were
here; she'd know how to--to thank you."
At that moment a small, frail woman, gowned in black, entered the room.
"Why, mother," exclaimed the boy, turning to her a flushed, eager face,
"I was just wishing for you. This is the young lady that lives upstairs,
you know."
"How do you do?" the woman said, holding out her hand with quaint
simplicity, neither face nor manner betraying any surprise at finding
Julie there. "You are Miss Dale, are you not? I am Mrs. Grahame. It was
kind of you to come in and see Jack."
"My little dog ran in here, and I followed in search of him and found
your son," Julie explained. "I really did not intend to be intrusive."
"It is a great pleasure to see you." The older woman smiled at her. "You
must pardon the seeming liberty, but Jack and I have long been
acquainted with you. You see I am at work down-town most of the day, and
the boy spends long hours by the window watching his neighbors go in and
out, and he amuses himself by weaving little stories about them until he
comes to regard them as personal friends."
Jack dropped his eyes. "You'll think I'm the one who's intrusive," he
said.
"I do not think anything of the kind," replied Julie; "I think it is a
very clever, happy idea." She went over to the chair and called the dog
up in his lap. "Mrs. Grahame," she said, "if you are not too busy, will
you come up some evening and see us? We are working girls, and we have
an invalid father, and we don't expect to pay visits, but I would like
to come down here again, if I may, and bring my sister. Your son would
weave the most beautiful stories in the world if he really knew Hester."
"Thank you for suggesting so much happiness for my boy," said Mrs.
Grahame, earnestly. "You make me want to go to see you immediately."
Just as Hester's lively imagination was picturing all sorts of
calamities which might have overtaken her sister, that individual came
hurriedly in with a bottle of salad oil in her hand.
"Well, where on earth have you been?" cried Hester; "I thought you must
have dropped dead or been kidnaped or something fearful."
"Was I so long? I am sorry, dear, but you see I made a call en route."
"A call! who ever heard of such a thing! Where is Peter Snooks?"
suddenly missing him.
"He is finishing the visit for me." Julie laughed with a provokingly
mysterious air.
Hester, who had been working on alone and diving her head into a hot
oven every five minutes to anxiously watch the evolution of bothersome
little dabs of thin dough into small puffy cakes, was feeling decidedly
cross and resented her sister's apparent indifference to the business at
hand.
"Well, I'm glad if _you_ have time to gad about," she said, witheringly.
"I _thought_ we were going to take a lesson in making mayonnaise."
"You goose!" exclaimed Julie, pushing her away from the hot oven and
herself kneeling down to peer in. "I'll watch these cakes--you sit down
and draw a breath and the cork of the oil at the same time, while I tell
you what happened."
Somewhat mollified, Hester obeyed, and even deigned to show interest
when Julie graphically described their neighbors.
"Wasn't it odd, Hester, just walking right into the midst of things like
that? And the boy was so pathetic, and his mother was so quaint, with
such a sweet face and pretty, wavy hair, and I only stayed a moment,
dear, really, for all the time I knew you'd be wondering what had become
of me."
"Well, all I've got to say is," remarked Hester, with decided emphasis,
"that if you were willing to leave Peter Snooks with them, they must be
very remarkable people indeed."