"Put you in your best array."
Miss Betty Bishop lived in a small white house with brown trimmings, which
she herself likened to a white cake with chocolate filling. Everything
about it was snug and neat and seemed to the observer a pleasant
expression of that kindly, busy, cheery lady; but Miss Betty was in the
habit of declaring it had taken her twenty years to get settled in those
small, low-ceiled rooms, and that she didn't feel quite in yet.
There had been a great sacrifice of fine old furniture when the big house
on Main Street had to be exchanged for the little one in Church Lane, and
it was no wonder Miss Betty sighed at the thought. None the less she had
accepted courageously the reverses which at twenty brought her gay
girlhood to an end, and for fifteen years was a cheerful, devoted nurse
to her invalid father. Since his death she lived alone with only Sophy,
her old mammy, to cook and care for her.
When it became known that Miss Betty had invited certain of her young
friends to tea to meet Rosalind Whittredge, a wave of excitement swept
over Friendship.
All the children of the town had heard stories of Miss Betty's beauty and
belleship, but those Washington winters belonged to twenty years ago and
had no connection with her present popularity. Sophy's skill as a cook no
doubt had something to do with the fame of her mistress's tea parties, but
besides this Miss Betty knew how to make her guests, whether young or old,
have a good time.
When asked if she was fend of children, she was sure to reply, "Some
children. I don't like disagreeable children any better than I do
disagreeable grown persons." And for this reason, perhaps, it had come to
be esteemed something of an honor to be asked to her house.
Miss Betty had at first felt a prejudice against Patterson Whittredge's
daughter, deciding in her own mind that she was probably a spoiled little
thing; but the sight of Rosalind taking tea with Morgan, and more than
this, the frank gaze of those disarming gray eyes, had touched her kindly
heart. She knew as well as anybody that it must be lonely in the
Whittredge house; and so she had thought of the tea party.
The interest felt in Patterson Whittredge's daughter was very general.
Patterson belonged to those old times when peace had reigned in
Friendship. He had been a favorite in the village, and to many it seemed
only the other day that he had gone away. It was incredible that this tall
girl seen walking by Mrs. Whittredge's side could be his daughter. There
were those like Mrs. Graham's pupils, who were inclined to invest her with
a halo of romance; others criticised her as not at all the Whittredge
style, not what one had a right to expect in Mrs. Whittredge's
granddaughter. Some pitied Mrs. Whittredge for the responsibility thrust
upon her, others pitied Rosalind, and still more, envied her.
In view of all the discussion, it was not possible to regard an invitation
to meet her as quite an everyday matter.
"I do wish you had not soiled your embroidered muslin, Belle. You will
have to wear your summer silk," said Mrs. Parton, addressing her daughter,
who sat on the dining-room floor entertaining a Maltese kitten with a
string and spool.
"I forgot to tell you, mother, Jack dropped some wax candle on it last
Sunday night, when we were looking for a penny in the grass," Belle
replied, lifting her merry black eyes for a moment. "Anyway, it isn't a
dress-up party--only to supper."
"Bring that dress to me at once. I am astonished at you. The only decent
thing you have!" Mrs. Parton sat down and clasped her hands in an attitude
of desperation.
Followed by the kitten, Belle departed, returning directly with the blue
and white checked silk over her arm.
"Whatever it is," her mother continued, I want you to look nice; Betty
says Rosalind Whittredge has beautiful clothes."
"I just know she is a prig," remarked Belle, caressing the kitten.
"No, she isn't!" A tumbled head and a pair of eyes very like Belle's own
peered out suddenly from beneath the table cover. "If she was, she
wouldn't have run away to take supper with Morgan."
"Mercy upon us, Jack! you are enough to startle the sphinx. Come out from
under that table at once," commanded his mother.
"Did she do that?" asked Belle, with some interest, adding, "Is it very
bad, mother? Can you clean it? How do you know she did, Jack?"
Mrs. Parton shook her head; "I'll try French chalk," she said.
"Miss Betty said so. She saw her," put in Jack.
Mrs. Parton rose. "Another time when you lose a penny, I will make it good
rather than have your best dress spoiled," she remarked.
"But you see, mother, it was a church penny," Belle explained, as if she
were mentioning some rare and peculiar coin. "Arthur brought the
collection home because Uncle Ranney wasn't there, and when he untied his
handkerchief on the porch a penny dropped out and rolled into the grass."
"Who is going to Miss Betty's?" Jack asked, as his mother left the room.
"Maurice and Katherine and you and me, and the Ellises, and--I don't know
who."
"I know it will be stupid; I don't think I'll go."
"If it is stupid, you will make it so," retorted his sister, adding, "and
you will go, too, for mother will make you; besides, you know you wouldn't
miss Sophy's waffles." Belle departed with the kitten, leaving Jack to
return to the latest Henty book and his retreat under the table.
The Partons' was a square house, with a wide hall dividing it through the
middle and opening on a porch at either end. When the weather at all
permitted, these doors stood wide open, and dogs and cats and children ran
in and out as they pleased. In the afternoons Colonel Parton sat on the
front porch smoking and reading, threatening the dogs and the children
indiscriminately, receiving not the slightest attention from either.
As she passed him now, Belle mischievously deposited the kitten on his
shoulder.
"You baggage, you! Take this thing off me," thundered the colonel, as the
kitten made its claws felt in a frantic endeavor to hold on in its
perilous position.
"O father! don't hurt her," Belle cried, running to the rescue, and in the
scuffle that followed, the unfortunate kitten escaped.
"Don't you let me catch you doing a thing like that again," scolded the
colonel, as he picked up his paper and settled himself in his chair again.
Belle laughed, and held up her face for a kiss, which her father gave with
a hearty good will.
Mrs. Parton was not the only one who felt dress to be a matter of
importance on this occasion. Charlotte Ellis stopped at the bank gate to
ask Katherine what she was going to wear.
"My blue lawn, I think," Katherine answered. "Mother says it is nice
enough, and that I must keep my new white dress for Commencement."
"Your blue dress is very pretty, I am sure," Charlotte said. She was two
years older than Katherine, and her manner was mildly patronizing. "I
think I shall wear white. Of course it is not a party, but we want to
make a good impression on a stranger."
Katherine felt the force of this, but Maurice, who overheard Charlotte,
was inclined to jeer. "Much difference it will make to her what you have
on," he said, as Charlotte left them. "Her," meant Rosalind.
"How do you know it won't make any difference?" asked Katherine.
"Because she is not that kind."
"What kind? How do you know?"
Now Maurice had kept his interview with Rosalind to himself, saying
nothing to any one when he returned her book. His sudden interest in
Shakespeare had not passed unnoticed; but as this or something else had
caused longer intervals of cheerfulness, the family had not ventured to
disturb the agreeable change by asking questions.
"I know, because I talked to her the other day," he replied.
"Maurice, really?" cried Katherine. "I don't believe it"
"You needn't if you don't want to," was her brother's lofty answer.
On the appointed evening the guest of honor was the last to arrive, and
the others were in such a state of expectancy they could not settle down
to an examination of Miss Betty's puzzle drawer with which she usually
entertained her young guests until supper was announced. Miss Betty, who
adored puzzles and problems of all kinds, was continually adding to her
collection, and this evening there was a brand new one, brought from the
city only the day before; but even Belle, who was especially good at
puzzles, and besides affected not to care about Rosalind Whittredge, could
not keep her eyes from the window.
The application of French chalk had been successful, and she wore her blue
and white silk; Katherine, in her blue muslin, with ribbons to match on
her smooth braids, wished her mother had been more impressed with the
importance of the occasion. Charlotte was complacent in her white dress
with a large ribbon bow on top of her head, in a new fashion just received
from her cousin in Baltimore.
"That's the way Rosalind wears hers," whispered Katherine.
The boys fingered the puzzles and talked about the ball game to be played
to-morrow, but they shared the feeling of anticipation. Their hostess
bustled back and forth.
"Children," she said, pausing in the door, "I want you to be as nice as
possible to Rosalind. Remember she is a stranger, and we wish her to have
a pleasant impression of Friendship."
"Here she is!" announced Belle, and the rest crowded around the window.
"There's Miss Genevieve," whispered Charlotte; "girls, she is coming in!"
The Whittredge carriage had stopped before the gate and Miss Genevieve, a
marvel of grace in soft chiffons that rippled and curled about her slender
height and emphasized the fairness of her skin, was actually escorting her
niece to the door.
"Isn't she lovely?" sighed Charlotte, in an ecstasy.
"Not so sweet as Miss Celia," said loyal Belle.
Miss Betty met them on the porch, while her guests in the parlor craned
their necks to catch a glimpse, through the open door, of the new
arrivals. The languid sweetness of Miss Genevieve's tone floated in above
Miss Betty's crisper utterance.
"Mamma is just as usual, thank you. Yes, it was very kind of you to ask
her; I have no doubt she finds it dull. Yes, we expect Allan in a week or
two, but there is no counting on him."
So absorbed were the listeners, they did not begin their retreat soon
enough, and their hostess, ushering Rosalind in, encountered a scene of
confusion. Katherine in the excitement fell backward over a footstool and
was rescued, flushed and shamefaced, by Jack Parton. Charlotte smoothed
her dress and tried to look dignified. Belle and Maurice were in fits of
laughter.
Miss Betty surveyed them in surprise. Rosalind stood beside her, and the
girls at once noted that she wore pink.
"Is anything the matter?" asked Miss Betty, observing Katherine's flushed
face. "I want to introduce Rosalind Whittredge to you. Rosalind, this is
Charlotte Ellis, and Katherine Roberts, and Belle Parton--"
Still laughing, Belle held out her hand. "We were peeping at you," she
said.
"Didn't you know I was coming in?" Rosalind asked, a gleam of fun in her
own eyes.
"We wanted to see Miss Genevieve," added Belle.
As Miss Betty proceeded to name the boys, Rosalind said, "Oh, I know
Maurice," quite as if he were an old friend; and she added, standing
beside him, "I am so much obliged to you for bringing my book home."
"Does Maurice know her?" whispered Belle.
Katherine nodded, although she had had her doubts until this minute.
Maurice was agreeably conscious of Belle's eyes as he talked to Rosalind.
He was not at all unwilling to have the distinction of being the only one
to know the new-comer.
"I read the story," he said. "I did not know till after you had gone that
it was one of Shakespeare's plays. We read Julius Caesar at school last
winter."
"I know that too," Rosalind answered. I have Lamb's stories. Cousin Louis
used to read them to me, and then from the real plays, but I like the
story of the Forest best."
"Dear me! they are talking about Shakespeare," Belle exclaimed.
Rosalind looked across the room at her, and smiled in a way that seemed an
invitation.
"It is a little funny for her to sit down beside a boy the first thing,
don't you think?" Charlotte said in a low tone to Katherine, who assented
because she was in the habit of agreeing with Charlotte.
Belle overheard. "Silly!" she said, and to show her scorn she went over
and sat on an arm of the sofa beside Rosalind.
"Do you like to read?" she asked.