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BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON
OR, BOARDING-SCHOOL DAYS AT MISS NORTH'S
[Illustration: "SHE WRENCHED THE WHIP FROM ALEC'S HAND." (_See page
308._)]
The Blue Bonnet Series
BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON
Or, Boarding-school Days at Miss North's
BY CAROLINE E. JACOBS
AND
LELA H. RICHARDS
A SEQUEL TO
A TEXAS BLUE BONNET
AND
BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY
_Illustrated by_ JOHN GOSS
THE PAGE COMPANY BOSTON: PUBLISHERS
_Copyright, 1914_
BY THE PAGE COMPANY
_Entered at Stationers' Hall, London_
_All rights reserved_
Made in U. S. A.
First Impression, August, 1914
Second Impression, November, 1914
Third Impression, March, 1915
Fourth Impression, August, 1915
Fifth Impression, May, 1916
Sixth Impression, April, 1917
Seventh Impression, March, 1918
Eighth Impression, February, 1919
Ninth Impression, April, 1919
Tenth Impression, March, 1920
Eleventh Impression, September, 1921
PRINTED BY C. H. SIMONDS COMPANY
BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE WAIL OF THE WE ARE SEVENS 1
II. A WEEK-END 20
III. IN BOSTON 40
IV. A SURPRISE 54
V. BOARDING-SCHOOL 74
VI. NEW FRIENDS 98
VII. IN TROUBLE 117
VIII. PENANCE 134
IX. WOODFORD 153
X. UNDER A CLOUD 172
XI. THE CLOUD LIFTS 191
XII. INITIATED 208
XIII. SUNDAY 227
XIV. SETTLEMENT WORK 239
XV. A HARVARD TEA 255
XVI. ANTICIPATIONS 274
XVII. THE GATHERING OF THE CLANS 294
XVIII. KITTY'S COTILLION 313
XIX. A SURPRISE PARTY 333
XX. THE JUNIOR SPREAD 344
XXI. THE LAMBS' FROLIC 359
XXII. COMMENCEMENT 377
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"SHE WRENCHED THE WHIP FROM ALEC'S HAND"
(_See page 308_) _Frontispiece_
"BLUE BONNET TOOK THE MIRROR AND LOOKED AT
HERSELF FROM ALL ANGLES" 140
"THE GHOST IN THE CENTRE OF THE GROUP ROSE" 216
"GABRIEL LOOKED UP IN DISDAIN" 245
"SHE WAS HOLDING ON TO UNCLE CLIFF'S COAT
LAPELS" 288
"SHE WAS OONAH, THE BEWITCHING LITTLE IRISH
MAIDEN" 357
Blue Bonnet in Boston
CHAPTER I
THE WAIL OF THE WE ARE SEVENS
Blue Bonnet raised the blind of the car window, which had been drawn all
the afternoon to shut out the blazing sun, and took a view of the flying
landscape. Then she consulted the tiny watch at her wrist and sat up
with a start.
"Grandmother!" she said excitedly, "we'll soon be in Woodford; that is,
in just an hour. We're on time, you know. Hadn't we better be getting
our things together?"
Mrs. Clyde straightened up from the pillows, which Blue Bonnet had
arranged comfortably for her afternoon nap, and peered out at the
rolling hills and green meadow-lands.
"I think we have plenty of time, Blue Bonnet," she said, smiling into
the girl's eager face. "But perhaps we would better freshen up a bit.
You are sure we are on time?"
"Yes, I asked the conductor when I went back to see Solomon at the last
station. Four-twenty sharp, at Woodford, he told Solomon, and Solomon
licked his hand with joy. Poor doggie! I don't believe he appreciates
the value of travel, even if he has seen Texas and New York and Boston.
He loathes the baggage-car, though I must say the men all along the way
have been perfectly splendid to him. But then, any one would fall in
love with Solomon, he's such a dear."
Mrs. Clyde recalled the five dollar bill she had witnessed Mr. Ashe pass
to the baggage-man at the beginning of the journey, and the money she
had given by his instruction along the way, and wondered how much
Solomon's real worth had contributed to his care.
"I'm so glad we're arriving in the afternoon," Blue Bonnet said, as she
gathered up magazines and various other articles that littered the
section. "There's something so flat about getting anywhere in the
morning--nothing to do but sit round waiting for trunks that have been
delayed, and wander about the house. I wonder if Aunt Lucinda told the
girls we were coming?"
Mrs. Clyde fancied not. A quiet home-coming after so strenuous a summer
was much to be desired.
Blue Bonnet and the We Are Sevens had parted company in New York several
weeks before, the girls going on to Woodford in care of the General, in
order not to miss the first week of school.
The stay in New York had been particularly gratifying to Blue Bonnet,
for there had been ample time while waiting for Aunt Lucinda to arrive
from her summer's outing in Europe, to do some of the things left undone
on her last visit. A day at the Metropolitan Museum proved a delight;
the shops fascinating--especially Tiffany's, where Blue Bonnet spent
hours over shining trays, mysterious designs in monograms, and antique
gold settings, leaving an order that quite amazed Grandmother Clyde,
until she learned that the purchase was for Uncle Cliff.
Then there had been a delightful week with the Boston relatives, Aunt
Lucinda going straight to Woodford to open the house and make things
comfortable for her mother's arrival.
Cousin Tracy, as on that other memorable visit, had proved an ideal
host. To be sure, a motor car had been substituted for the sightseeing
bus so dear to Blue Bonnet's heart, but she found it, on the whole,
quite as enjoyable, and confided to Cousin Tracy as they sped through
the crooked little streets or walked through the beloved Common, that
she liked Boston ever so much better than New York, it seemed so nice
and countrified. There was a second visit to Bunker Hill and the
Library, to which Blue Bonnet brought fresh enthusiasm, more stories of
Cousin Tracy's coins and medals, and so the days passed all too swiftly.
"Well, at last!" Blue Bonnet exclaimed, as the train began to slacken
speed and the familiar "Next stop Woodford" echoed through the car.
"Here we are, Grandmother, home again!" She was at the door before the
car came to a standstill.
"Doesn't look as exciting as it did when Uncle Cliff and I arrived in
the Wanderer, does it?" Blue Bonnet's eyes swept the almost deserted
station.
Miss Clyde stood at the end of the long platform, her eyes turned
expectantly toward the rear Pullman, with Denham, the coachman, at a
respectful distance.
Blue Bonnet sprang from the car steps, greeted Aunt Lucinda
affectionately, shook hands with Denham and rushed for the baggage-car
to release Solomon.
"He's perfectly wild to see you, Aunt Lucinda," she called back, as she
ran toward the car--a compliment which Solomon himself verified a moment
later with joyful leaps and yelps and much wagging of tail.
"My, but it seems nice to get home," Blue Bonnet said as she sank back
cosily in the carriage and heaved a sigh of content. The sigh shamed her
a little. It seemed, somehow, disloyal to Uncle Cliff and Texas. She sat
up straight and turned her head away from the houses with their trim
orderly dooryards and well-kept hedges, and, for a moment, fixed her
mind with passionate loyalty on the lonely wind-swept stretches of her
native state; the battered and weatherbeaten ranch-house, Benita--But
only for a moment. The green rolling hills, the giant arching elms,
Grandmother's stately house just coming into view, proved too alluring,
and salving her conscience with the thought that it was her own dear
mother's country she had at last learned to love, gave herself up to the
full enjoyment of her surroundings.
Katie and faithful Delia were awaiting the arrival of the family on the
veranda, their joy at the reunion showing in every line of their happy
faces. Blue Bonnet shook hands with them cordially, deposited a load of
magazines and wraps in Delia's willing arms and ran in to the house.
In the sitting-room tea was ready to be served. Blue Bonnet curled up in
one of the deep armchairs and eyed the table appreciatively. How good it
looked--the thin slices of bread and butter, the fresh marmalade, the
wonderful Clyde cookies. She leaned back and smiled contentedly.
"Come, Blue Bonnet," Miss Clyde said, entering the room followed by
Delia with a brass kettle of steaming water, "make yourself tidy
quickly. Tea is all ready."
"All right, Aunt Lucinda, I sha'n't be a minute, I'm quite famished,"
and to prove the fact Blue Bonnet helped herself to a handful of
cookies on her way out of the room.
Aunt Lucinda cast an inquiring glance in her mother's direction.
"I fear you will find Blue Bonnet a bit spoiled, Lucinda," Mrs. Clyde
said with some hesitancy. "But we must not be too severe with her. The
girls have led a wild, carefree existence all summer. I have done my
best to look after them carefully, but I found seven rather a handful."
Something in Mrs. Clyde's tone made her daughter turn and look at her
closely. Was it imagination, or did she seem unusually fatigued? Miss
Clyde had often wondered during the summer if the responsibility of so
many girls had not been too much of a tax on her mother's strength and
patience, but her letters had been so cheerful, so uncomplaining, that
she had tried to put the thought out of her mind, attributing it to
overanxiety.
Blue Bonnet's entrance prevented further questioning.
"I think, if you don't mind, Grandmother, I'll run over and see the
General a minute. I promised Alec to look after him," Blue Bonnet said,
putting down her tea-cup.
"That would be very nice, Blue Bonnet," Mrs. Clyde answered with a nod
and a smile. "The General is going to miss Alec very much this winter."
As Blue Bonnet passed her Grandmother she stooped and putting her arm
round her shoulder gave her a gentle hug. Mrs. Clyde reached up and
patted the girl's face tenderly. Whatever had been her care, love had
lightened the burden, there could be no doubt of that.
"You can't think what a trump she's been, Aunt Lucinda," Blue Bonnet
said, straightening the bow at her grandmother's neck. "A regular brick!
Why, she's had all the girls at her feet this blessed summer."
"It would have been more to the point if I had had them in hand," her
grandmother replied; making haste to add, as she met Blue Bonnet's
puzzled eyes, "not but that they were good girls, very good girls
indeed."
Blue Bonnet whistled to Solomon and went out of the front door, banging
it carelessly. Miss Clyde looked annoyed.
"I am afraid we are going to have to begin all over again with Blue
Bonnet," she said with some concern. "She seems so hoydenish. I noticed
it immediately."
"It is a good deal the exuberance of youth, Lucinda. Surplus energy has
to be worked off somehow. We must be patient with her."
"I have been thinking," Miss Clyde replied, "that it would be wise not
to enter Blue Bonnet in the Boston school immediately. If we could keep
her with us until after the holidays we could perhaps interest her in
some home duties--the girls will all be in school, and we could have her
more to ourselves, and, perhaps, smooth down some of these rough
corners."
Mrs. Clyde looked wistful.
"I shall miss the dear child so," she said. "I wish we might keep her
with us a bit longer. Boarding-school will be the beginning of a long
break, I fear."
"It is because of the association that I particularly wish her to enter
Miss North's school. She will meet refined girls from some of our old
New England families, and the influence cannot fail to be helpful. I
hope she will not be tempted to tell them that her grandmother is a
brick," Miss Clyde added as an afterthought, but her smile was indulgent
rather than critical.
"Girls are much the same the world over," her mother answered with the
wisdom of experience. "Blue Bonnet is very like her mother. She was a
great romp, but she passed the hoydenish period in safety, so will Blue
Bonnet; never fear."
"She must be taught order and system; and a little domestic science
under Katie might not come amiss, since she will some day be at the head
of a household," Miss Clyde went on, and her mother signified approval.
"Then there is mending and darning. On the whole, I think the next
three months might be made very profitable to Blue Bonnet right here at
home. I am not at all sure but that too much emphasis is given to the
cultural side of education, and too little to the domestic these days. A
girl to be well educated should be well rounded."
After dinner, when the fire in the grate had been lighted--for the
autumn evenings were beginning to bring chill to the air--and the family
gathered for an hour's chat before bed, Miss Clyde broached the subject
to Blue Bonnet.
"How would you like to continue your vacation for three months longer,
Blue Bonnet, to stay on here with Grandmother and me until after the
holidays?"
"And have no studies at all?" Blue Bonnet interrupted, her eyes widening
with surprise. "What a lark!"
"Well, there would be duties," Miss Clyde admitted. "One could not be
altogether idle and keep happy."
"We should like you to be our dear home girl for a while longer, Blue
Bonnet," Mrs. Clyde said gently. "It is going to be very hard to give
you up."
"But I shall be at home for the week-ends."
"We hope so, dear, if it does not interfere too much with your studies.
Sometimes there is distraction in change of scene and habit. When you
enter Miss North's school, you will be under her supervision, not
ours--subject to her approval."
A little pucker wrinkled Blue Bonnet's brow.
"Shall I? Oh, dear, I do so hate being supervised. I mean by strangers,
Grandmother. Will she be terribly strict, and--interfering?"
"Not any more than will be for your interest and welfare."
"Well, I reckon it will be all right. I want to do what you think best
for me."
Mrs. Clyde could not withheld the triumphant look that she turned toward
her daughter. It said plainer than words, "you see how amenable she is,
how sweet her nature."
"And I could see a lot of the girls, even if they are in school. Perhaps
the Club could meet oftener."
Miss Clyde was silent. Discretion and diplomacy often availed where hard
and fast rules failed with Blue Bonnet. She could be led, easily--never
driven.
Miss Clyde's silence puzzled Blue Bonnet more than the unexpected news
that she was to remain in Woodford another three months had done. She
was unusually keen and alert, intuitive to a degree, and while Aunt
Lucinda's manner was all that could be desired, she felt that she had
been a disappointment in some way. She rose a little wearily and going
to the piano ran her fingers over the keys.
"Let us have a little music, dear, before we retire. It will seem good
to hear you play again," Mrs. Clyde said.
Blue Bonnet drifted into one air after another listlessly, as if her
thoughts were miles away from the keyboard over which her hands wandered
so prettily. The familiar melodies floated plaintively through the still
room. She played half through an old favorite, then rose suddenly. When
she turned to her grandmother for her usual goodnight kiss her eyes were
a little dim with tears. She struggled to hide them, and, excusing
herself on the pretext of unpacking her trunks, started for the stairs.
Miss Clyde had risen from her chair as Blue Bonnet rose from the piano.
She waited until Blue Bonnet had said good night to her grandmother,
then she put her arm affectionately over the girl's shoulder and patted
her reassuringly.
"I hope our little girl is not going to be homesick," she said. "There
will be much to do in the next three months--much that is pleasant. Some
day soon you and I will run up to Boston and have a look at Miss North's
school and find out something about its requirements. We shall have a
good deal of shopping to do, too. Suitable frocks play as important a
part at boarding-school as elsewhere."
Miss Clyde smiled one of her rare sweet smiles, and Blue Bonnet felt as
if a weight had been lifted from her heart.
"Aunt Lucinda is a good deal of a dear," she said to herself, as she
perched on the window-seat in her bedroom and looked out into the
moonlight. "She wants me to be happy. I suppose she doesn't always
understand me, any more than I do her. I reckon we'll have to sort of
take each other on faith." And lightly humming a little tune she jumped
up from the window-seat and plunged madly into the unpacking.
"As long as this is Saturday, would you mind, Grandmother, if I had the
girls in this afternoon?" Blue Bonnet inquired at the breakfast-table
next morning. And Mrs. Clyde replied:
"Not at all, dear. They will be so busy in school during the week. I
will see what Katie has planned for to-day, and, if she can manage it,
you might ask them to lunch."
A visit to the kitchen resulted favorably.
"Oh, you're such a duck, Grandmother," Blue Bonnet assured her. "I'll
'phone them right up," an operation which consumed the better part of an
hour, since there was so much to relate after a separation of several
weeks.
"I'll just run down to the barn and give Chula a lump of sugar and feed
Solomon the first thing," Blue Bonnet said as she turned from the
telephone.
"Have you made your room tidy?" Miss Clyde inquired, coming out in to
the hall at that moment.
"Oh, dear, history repeats itself, doesn't it, Aunt Lucinda?" Blue
Bonnet's good-natured laugh was contagious. Miss Clyde smiled in spite
of herself.
"I haven't made my bed yet, Aunt Lucinda, if that's what you mean. I
hate making it up warm--it's not sanitary, is it? You've said so
yourself, often."
Miss Clyde's smile deepened. Blue Bonnet's sudden conversion to the laws
of hygiene was too amusing.
"I fancy two hours of this autumn air will have restored its freshness,"
she said. "Have you finished your unpacking?"
Blue Bonnet recalled the piles of fluffy whiteness that covered chairs
and window-seat, and, turning, went up-stairs quickly.
It took some time to get the room in proper order. It might, not have
taken so long if the view from the south window had not been so
pleasant. Out in the garden the dahlias and coreopsis nodded and
beckoned coaxingly, the soft wind stirred the leaves in the apple-trees,
and Solomon frisked and rolled with glee in the sunshine.
At last it was finished, at least the furniture had been relieved of its
burdens, and the bed made in the most approved fashion. Blue Bonnet was
free to join Solomon, and to gather a great bunch of the golden-hued
coreopsis to adorn the lunch table. She was thinking of a little plan,
as she cut the long stems and arranged the flowers with taste and
precision; a little plan she had barely time to execute before Kitty
Clark's familiar, "Ooh-hoo, Ooh-hoo!" echoed from somewhere in the
vicinity of the front gate.
"I suppose I'm loads too early, but I could hardly wait to see you, Blue
Bonnet," was her cheery greeting. "We've all been pining away for you.
New York must have been fascinating to have kept you so long."
Blue Bonnet admitted that it was. She even opened her lips to tell of
some of its enchantments, but Kitty went on irrelevantly:
"You've missed a heap at school. I suppose you can catch up, but you'll
have to dig in, I can tell you. The Czar"--Kitty's name for Mr.
Hunt--"isn't bestowing any more favors than usual."
Blue Bonnet's first impulse was to tell Kitty that she would not be back
in school with the We Are Sevens this year, but she thought better of it
and waited.
Kitty rambled on.
"Latin's a perfect fright and--oh, Blue Bonnet, what, do you think? Miss
Rankin's engaged! Yes, she is, honest, truly. She's got a ring, a
beauty! She wore it turned in the first two weeks, but now she's picked
up courage and turned it round so everybody can see it. She's going to
quit after Christmas. They're going to live in Boston. He's a
lawyer--Sarah Blake's father knows him, and says he's right nice."
Kitty's patronizing air nettled Blue Bonnet as much as it amused her.
"Why shouldn't he be nice?" she inquired a bit sharply. "Miss Rankin's
nice herself."
The remark went over Kitty's head, and the appearance of Sarah Blake
down the roadway put a stop to the gossip.
It was the gayest kind of a little party that made the rafters in Mrs.
Clyde's dining-room ring with laughter an hour later. Blue Bonnet had
insisted upon Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda lunching with them, so Mrs.
Clyde sat at one end of the broad board and Miss Clyde at the other.
Blue Bonnet's coreopsis had been rearranged, and put in a charming brown
basket. From beneath the basket, and quite concealed from sight, were
seven little boxes attached to yellow ribbons which ran to each of the
We Are Sevens' plates.
Blue Bonnet could scarcely wait for the dessert to be cleared away
before she told the girls to pull the ribbons.
When the boxes came in view there was a scream of delight.
Nimble-fingered Kitty was the first to open hers, and the rest were not
long following suit, revealing to the enraptured gaze quaint and oddly
designed gold rings, the monogram of the We Are Sevens forming a seal.
There was a rush for Blue Bonnet's side of the table, where that young
person was deluged with caresses and many expressions of gratitude.
"It's Uncle Cliff--he did it," Blue Bonnet managed to say when she could
extricate herself. "That is, he suggested it--gave me the money--and I
had them made at Tiffany's."
There was a chorus of praise for Uncle Cliff, which must have made his
ears ring to the point of deafness, even in far-off Texas.
Amanda made a suggestion.
"Let's go up-stairs in the clubroom and organize a Sorority. W. A. S.
looks kind of Greeky in a monogram. We can have rings instead of pins
for our insignia."
The idea met with instant favor. There was another rush for the stairs,
and a few moments later the Club members were comfortably settled in
their quarters with Amanda in the Chair.
Amanda was not quite clear as to the manner of procedure, but she
gracefully waved a tack hammer found on the window-sill, in lieu of a
gavel, and demanded order.
When quiet at last descended upon the disturbed and noisy assemblage,
Blue Bonnet asked if she might have the floor. She looked appealingly at
the Chair.
Debby rose to a point of order.
"We've got to elect officers," she said. "Amanda hasn't been elected. I
move that Blue Bonnet Ashe be our chairman."
This Was the very opportunity Blue Bonnet wanted for her announcement.
She made Debby a profound bow, pushing Amanda out of the way
unceremoniously.
"I thank you all for this very great honor," she began, clearing her
throat in the most professional manner. She had once attended a woman's
club with Miss Clyde in Boston. "But owing to my absence from the city
the coming winter I--"
There was a roar of protest from the Club members, en masse.
"I shall be leaving you about the first of January--"
This announcement prevented the further order of business. Cries of
"What for? Where to? For how long?" assailed Blue Bonnet.
She made her plans and prospects clear to them.
At first the girls seemed stunned. Joy turned to lamentation. There
arose a chorus of wails, plaintive and doleful. They kept it up for some
time--in concert--with Sarah Blake looking on in awed silence, forlorn
and tearful, as if a real tragedy had descended upon her.
Blue Bonnet took the tack hammer from Amanda's apathetic hand and rapped
for order.
"I neglected to state," she said, "that I shall be at home for the
week-ends--at least I hope to be. I see no reason why the Club can't go
on. I'm sure Grandmother would love to let you have this room when I'm
not here. Let's go on with the business. I nominate Sarah Blake for
president. It takes brains and dignity to be the president of a
Sorority. Sarah has both."
"Well, I like that!" Kitty exclaimed with some feeling. "I suppose the
rest of us have neither."
"Now, don't get stuffy, Kitty. You know I'm never personal. I meant no
reflection on anybody."
"We can't organize a Sorority, anyhow," Kitty objected. "They only have
them in colleges and high schools."
"I guess we can have one of our own if we want to," Amanda broke in. "We
can originate one, can't we? Everything has to have a beginning, doesn't
it?"
"Oh, I suppose you can call it what you like," Kitty said with a toss of
her head.
There was some discussion, but Sarah finally received the majority vote
and went in with flying colors.
That evening, from her accustomed seat on the hearth rug before a
glowing fire, Blue Bonnet told her grandmother of the afternoon's
experiences.
"The girls seem sorry to have me go away this winter," she said. "And,
oh, Grandmother, you should have heard them wail when I told them."
She leaned her head against her grandmother's knee and a little smile
wrinkled the corners of her mouth.
"I hate to leave them, too," she said. "They're such fun."
Mrs. Clyde smoothed the girl's hair gently as she answered:
"I want you to be happy, dear, but it can't all be fun. Aunt Lucinda has
a plan for you, which I think we will begin with Monday. You are
entering your seventeenth year, now, Blue Bonnet, and there are duties
and responsibilities which you can no longer evade."
Blue Bonnet sighed unconsciously.
"I suppose there are, Grandmother," she said, "but--couldn't we just put
them off until--well--until Monday?"