PREPARATIONS
And now, of course, you will want to know why a round half dozen of
Lakeville’s most precious inhabitants should be discovered parading the
streets of Chicago and incidentally losing themselves and each other by
the wayside.
It was this way. The Lakeville schoolhouse had burned down, nobody could
decide where to build a new one and the places used as temporary
substitutes were unsatisfactory to many of the parents. Moreover,
Mabel’s father, the village doctor, had long wanted to go to Germany in
order to study certain branches of surgery—this was before the war, of
course. His wife wanted to go with him but she didn’t wish to take
Mabel.
Miss Jane Higgins, otherwise Aunty Jane, had been intrusted with money
to be devoted to the education of her orphaned niece, little Marjory
Vale. Aunty Jane possessed a conscience that would not rest until that
money was spent for that particular purpose. Then there were
accomplishments that Mrs. Mapes desired for her daughter Jean and that
Mrs. Slater wanted for her granddaughter Henrietta that were not, at
that time, procurable in Lakeville. The solution to all these problems
was boarding school, since the girls were much too young for college.
Of course Bettie Tucker, their inseparable companion, wished to go too.
But her father, a clergyman with a large family and a small salary,
could see no way to afford what seemed to him an unnecessary outlay;
until Mr. Black, an elderly widower with a young heart and a warm
affection for all children and especially for Bettie, offered generously
to pay all expenses connected with Bettie’s education.
Of course the selecting of a proper school had proved a matter of much
importance and thought. The mothers and Aunty Jane had sent for and
received vast numbers of catalogues, each more fascinating than the
last. Aunty Jane was in favor of something near Boston. Mrs. Bennett
preferred Philadelphia, while Mrs. Mapes showed a partiality for Ohio.
“I think,” said Mrs. Tucker, “that we’d better be guided by Mrs. Slater.
She has traveled a great deal and I’m sure she must have a great many
friends whose daughters have been to boarding school. Let’s talk to Mrs.
Slater about it.”
“I agree with you,” said all the other parents and Aunty Jane.
Mrs. Slater had, indeed, a great many friends who had had boarding
school daughters. Also, she too had a tall stack of catalogues. Also she
had, in her own mind, already selected a school for Henrietta.
“In the first place,” said she, when her guests were seated in her
handsome house, “we don’t want our little girls too far away from us, so
I am in favor of something near Chicago. In the second place I am
greatly inclined toward the school founded by my old friend Doctor
Rhodes in Hiltonburg. A very fine old gentleman, my dears, with high
ideals and beautiful manners. Highland Hall is perhaps rather an old
fashioned school; but the catalogue states that there is a new gymnasium
and new, up-to-date dormitories. The most charming young woman of my
acquaintance attended that school—Ruth Belding, her name was. Dr.
Rhodes, I assure you, is a wonderful man, splendidly educated, highly
cultured and charming in every way. His teachers are chosen with the
greatest care and only really nice girls are admitted to his school.
There are more expensive schools and some cheaper ones—I had been
thinking of consulting you about this very matter.”
“It sounds all right to me,” said Mrs. Bennett.
“I _had_ thought of that Painesville place,” said Mrs. Mapes, “but
Hiltonburg is certainly nearer home—though any place is far enough from
Northern Michigan.”
“Of course there’s no place like Boston,” said Aunty Jane, who had been
born in the East, “but Marjory _could_ get home from this Hiltonburg
place for her Christmas vacation.”
“I haven’t any particular choice,” said Mrs. Tucker. “Anything that
meets with Mr. Black’s approval will be all right for Bettie.”
“Then,” said Mrs. Slater, “we’d better write at once to Doctor Rhodes.
He may not have room.”
Doctor Rhodes replied very promptly. There _was_ room and he would be
very glad indeed to enroll five new pupils from Lakeville. The mothers
and Aunty Jane were glad to have the matter settled. It did not occur to
any of them, least of all to Mrs. Slater, that charming Ruth Belding was
no longer a very young woman and that considerable time had elapsed
since she had been graduated from Hiltonburg.
The five girls had spent a wonderful summer camping in the woods with
Mr. Black and his good old sister, Mrs. Crane. On their return, all the
dressmakers in the village had been kept busy for a bewildering
fortnight outfitting the lively youngsters with suitable garments for
school. From a mountain of catalogues, the busy parents selected and
studied long lists of articles needed by prospective pupils at various
schools. Then they bought trunks and filled them. Jean, Mabel, Marjory
and Henrietta began to prattle of clothes.
“My silk stockings have come,” said Henrietta. “Two pairs for very best
and Grandmother has sent to New York for my hat.”
“I have my first silk petticoat,” said Jean. “Mother ordered it from
Chicago.”
“I have two new middy blouses from Detroit,” confided Mabel. “The
Chicago ones were not big enough.”
“Aunty Jane sent to Boston for my coat,” said Marjory. “It’s all lined
with satin.”
Bettie said never a word.
“Say, Bettie,” demanded Mabel, “how’s _your_ trunk coming?”
“It isn’t,” returned Bettie, soberly. “The baby has been sick and Mother
hasn’t been able to do a thing. I’ve darned two pairs of stockings and
taken the hem out of an old petticoat—and that’s all. I’m—I’m getting
worried.”
Suddenly Bettie’s lip quivered and Jean noticed it. Now, Jean was
thoughtful beyond her years and she knew that the Tuckers had very
little money to spend for clothes. When she reached home, still
wondering where Bettie’s wardrobe was to come from, she found her mother
entertaining Mr. Black’s stout middle-aged sister, Mrs. Crane.
“Well, Jeanie girl,” said Mrs. Crane, “I’ve been admiring your new silk
petticoat. I suppose you are all just about ready for school.”
“Bettie isn’t,” returned Jean, soberly. “I’ve been thinking about it all
the way home. Mrs. Tucker never _was_ very smart about Bettie’s clothes,
you know, and of course they haven’t any money. The things that come out
of missionary boxes never do seem to be just right. I don’t see where
Bettie’s outfit is coming from.”
“Bless my soul!” cried Mrs. Crane, “I’m just an old idiot. And so is
Peter. Here is this blessed old goose of a brother of mine sending
Bettie off to school for a year and neither of us thinking that she’d
need clothes. What ought she to have, Mrs. Mapes? You make out the list
and I’ll get the things. Why! I’d just _love_ to do it.”
Left to herself, it is to be feared that Mrs. Crane would have done
fearful things. Her mind ran to gay plaids with red predominating; and
at first she talked much of materials for pinafores—a species of garment
in vogue in her own remote youth; but with much sound advice from Mrs.
Mapes it was not long before Bettie’s wardrobe compared very well with
Jean’s.
Mrs. Crane, however, indulged in a few wild purchases that satisfied her
love for color and greatly amused Henrietta. There was a gay plaid dress
with brass buttons, a pair of bright blue stockings, some red mittens, a
wonderful knitted scarf of many hues, a purple workbag and at least four
strings of gaudy beads. Fortunately, there were plenty of garments
without these and Bettie declared that Mrs. Crane’s queer purchases made
the dark depths of her big trunk quite bright and cheerful.
“As for my trunk,” laughed happy Bettie, “it’s big enough to live in and
it’s all mine forever and ever.”