A SURPRISE
"Well, to begin at the very beginning," Blue Bonnet said, looking into
the eager faces of the We Are Sevens, "we took an automobile from Cousin
Tracy's house, where we were staying over the week-end. Of course we
could have taken the Cambridge subway, but Cousin Tracy said we were to
have all the frills; and, anyway, the subway is so jammed on the day of
the game that it takes forever to get anywhere--especially home, after
everything is over. Why, Cousin Tracy says--"
"Yes, we know all about that," Kitty said, "get on to the game."
"Well, we took the automobile and went straight to the Stadium. You
never saw so many automobiles in all your life. They would reach from
here to--"
"Oh, Blue Bonnet, we don't care a rap about the automobiles," Kitty
declared impatiently. "What did you do when you got to the Stadium?"
"We took our seats. You see, we got to the Stadium about one o'clock,
and as the game didn't begin until two, we had a perfectly lovely time
watching the people gather. Cousin Tracy said there were about forty
thousand. The cheering section was just a solid mass of college men,
with a band at the bottom, and the most elastic lot of cheer leaders in
white sweaters you ever saw. This is the way they do it."
Blue Bonnet dug her elbows into her knees, supported her face in her
hands and yelled:
"'Har´-vard! Har´-vard! Har´-vard!'
"And Yale would yell out like the snapping of a whip:
"'Yale! Yale! Yale!'
"But the most exciting moment was when the Yale men came trotting out on
the field in white blankets and blue legs."
"In blue legs!" exclaimed Sarah Blake in surprise.
"Well, that was the impression. A few minutes later the Harvard team
came trotting on. They had black sweaters and red legs. They peeled off
the black sweaters though, showing crimson underneath. Then the game
began. I can see them yet."
Blue Bonnet closed her eyes and her lips curled in a smile.
"Then what? Go on!" said Debby.
"Then they played. And how they played, Kitty! And when it was over and
Harvard had won. Did you hear me?--_Harvard won_--twenty to nothing, and
for the first time in years, it was as if--well, as if pandemonium were
let loose."
The high tension of the We Are Sevens relaxed for a brief second.
"And then," Blue Bonnet went on, "then, the funniest thing happened. The
students jumped down from their seats and performed a serpentine dance
the entire length of the field. When they got to the goal posts they
threw their derbies over. It was too funny to see the black hats flying
thick and fast." Blue Bonnet laughed merrily.
"A man passed us afterward with the most pathetic-looking thing on his
head; it hardly resembled a hat, it was so crushed and battered; but he
was explaining to a friend that it would do to get him home. He looked
so silly; but he didn't seem to care a speck. Why, they all lost their
heads completely. Even Cousin Tracy--you know how terribly dignified he
is--got so excited that he began singing
"'Fair Harvard, thy sons to thy jubilee throng,'
"at the top of his voice. Everybody went perfectly crazy."
"Then what happened?"
"Much, Amanda. We went up on top of the Stadium. It has a promenade all
round it, on top; the view is beautiful--the Charles River, and
Cambridge across it, and thousands and thousands of automobiles, and
the crowd moving in a solid mass--the people still cheering and
laughing--oh, it was great! I felt as if I wanted to stay on forever!"
"It must have been heavenly," Kitty murmured. "Did the girls look
pretty?"
"Pretty? Well, they certainly did. I was just going to tell you about
that. The Yale girls all wore big bunches of violets--a Yale emblem. The
Harvard girls wore dark red chrysanthemums. I had some, and a pennant,
which I waved madly. There were more pretty gowns than you ever saw at
one time in all your life. Great splashes of color all through the
crowd; and the furs--that reminds me: all of a sudden I realized that my
fur was gone. The white fox that Uncle Cliff gave me last Christmas. You
can imagine the sinking sensation of my heart."
"Oh, dear, you lost it?" Sarah murmured.
"Yes, but I found it. It had slipped off my back and dropped behind the
seat. You can believe I held on to it mighty tight after that."
Blue Bonnet sighed deeply as she recalled the averted tragedy.
"Did you go home then?"
"Go home? Well, I should say not. People never go home until they have
to, after a big game like that; they're too excited--they have to work
it off gradually. Cousin Tracy and I went to dinner where there were
loads of Harvard people dining. After dinner we went to a light opera,
and there--"
Again Blue Bonnet went off into peals of laughter.
"--a man came out and had the audacity to sing:
"'I am so fond of violets.'
"Imagine! Why, the Harvard men didn't let him finish the first line
before they had him off the stage--"
"Mobbed him?" Sarah gasped.
"Call it what you like. I don't think they injured him, for he came back
and sang Harvard songs--nothing else; sang like an angel, too."
"Oh, but you were in luck, Blue Bonnet," Kitty sighed. "I could die
happy if I'd had your chance."
"It does make you feel that way, Kitty. I can see myself telling my
grandchildren about that game. It's almost like an inheritance,
something you can pass along. I've cut out all the notices from the
papers and kept the literature they passed around. Now, I think I've
told you every blessed thing. Would you all like to come up-stairs and
see my new clothes?"
There was an immediate rush for Blue Bonnet's room.
Miss Clyde wondered an hour later, when she rapped at the door and
glanced in, if the place would ever again take on its natural shape and
order. Bureau drawers yawned; furniture was pulled about; the
window-seat held a mass of underwear, shoes and dresses; but the faces
of the We Are Sevens reflected pride and approval.
"Aunt Lucinda," Blue Bonnet called, "Sarah says she will come over
Saturday and help sew the markers on my clothes. Isn't that lovely?"
"It is very kind of Sarah, I am sure."
"And, Aunt Lucinda, don't you think it would be nice to have a little
tea, or luncheon or something, and let all the girls help?"
"It would be nice to have the girls, Blue Bonnet, but--"
Miss Clyde hesitated. She had seen samples of the We Are Sevens' sewing,
and visions of Blue Bonnet's underwear after it had braved the first
wash, rose before her eyes.
"But what?"
"Marking clothes is rather a particular piece of work, you know."
Blue Bonnet glanced about quickly to see if this reflection had given
offence. None was visible. A relieved expression was rather more in
evidence.
"I think _I_ could help, perhaps, Miss Clyde," Sarah said, determined
not to have her one accomplishment thrust aside so lightly.
"I am sure you could, Sarah, and thank you very much; your work is
always beautiful. Perhaps you would do some of the handkerchiefs."
The next two weeks seemed to take wings--they flew along so fast. The
grey days had come; bleak, raw days when clouds hung over the hills,
threatening snow and ice.
"Only five days now until Uncle Cliff comes," Blue Bonnet said one
morning, pausing in her sewing--she was making bureau scarfs for her
room at school, taking the greatest pride and interest in them.
"Five days! I can hardly wait. Grandmother, did you ever think what
Uncle Cliff's been to me? Why, he's been father, mother, brother,
sister! Many's the time on the ranch when I'd get lonesome he'd play tag
with me, or marbles, or cut paper dolls and make me swings--anything to
make me happy. Seems like I'm only just beginning to understand how much
I owe him; always before I've just kind of taken everything for granted.
Sometimes I can hardly wait until I'm grown up to make a nice home for
him--to take care of him, and do the things--the little things men like
to have done for them."
Miss Clyde turned and scrutinized Blue Bonnet's face closely.
What was this child saying? This woman-child, who only yesterday was
romping through the house, indulging in childish dreams--childish
sports.
"I'm beginning to feel grown up, sometimes, Grandmother. Going
on seventeen is a pretty good age, isn't it? It won't be long
now until I'm twenty-one, and then I suppose I'll have to take
up responsibilities--learn how to run the ranch."
She sighed heavily.
"I fancy Uncle Cliff will stand back of you for some time yet, dear."
Blue Bonnet nodded confidently.
"Yes, and there's Alec. Pretty soon he'll know how to manage everything
on the ranch, too. Uncle Cliff's getting awfully fond of him. Maybe when
Alec is through school he'll make him manager of the whole place.
Wouldn't that be fine? I think Alec will always be better out in the
open. He can't stand city life, it's too cramped for him."
"It certainly would be fine for Alec."
"Yes, and for Uncle Cliff, too. He gets mighty tired of the
grind--that's what he calls it sometimes. Why, his little trips East are
about the only pleasure he has; and yet--I don't believe you could drive
him off the Blue Bonnet Ranch. He loves everything about it, from the
smallest yearling to each blade of grass. He says my father did too, and
_his_ father. It's a kind of a family trait."
She laughed softly.
"And you have inherited the feeling?" Grandmother asked.
"Oh, I love it," the girl answered. "Of course I love it--but I'm not
crazy to winter and summer on it."
Mrs. Clyde seemed satisfied. It would be easier to transplant Uncle
Cliff sometime in the future, she thought, than to sacrifice Blue Bonnet
to the Texas wilderness. The bond between herself and the child was
riveting so close that the thought of a possible separation often
appalled her. Yet she did not wish to be selfish; Blue Bonnet's
allegiance was to her uncle--there could be no doubt of that.
"By the way, Grandmother, did I tell you that the General has a new
picture of Alec? It's just fine. I'll run over and get it."
She was back in the shortest possible time, excited and breathless.
"There he is," she said, thrusting the picture in her grandmother's
hands. "Did you ever see anybody change so in your life? That shows what
Texas air will do for people. Why, he's fat, positively fat, for him,
isn't he?"
"He certainly seems to have grown stouter," Mrs. Clyde admitted.
"And those corduroys--don't they look good--and the sombrero?"
Blue Bonnet's face glowed.
"I don't think you like it," she said, after a moment, taking the
picture in her own hands and regarding it jealously.
"Why, yes, I do, dear. Only it seems a bit strange to see Alec in that
garb. It is cowboy style, is it not?"
"Yes, but it's cowboy dress, and cowboy life, and cowboy freedom that
has given Alec health. He'd never have got it here in Woodford in a
thousand years."
"That is true, Blue Bonnet. You are right. What did the General think of
the picture?"
"He loves it! I reckon it looked better to him than a West Point uniform
with nothing inside of it."
Mrs. Clyde smiled.
"I think the General got over that dream long ago, Blue Bonnet. He is
perfectly delighted with Alec's recovery."
Blue Bonnet put the picture on the mantel-shelf, and, folding her work
neatly, went to the window and looked out. She stood a moment lost in
thought.
"I think I'll go for a gallop, Grandmother," she said, turning suddenly.
"I've just time before dinner. I won't have many more chances."
"The clouds look heavy, dear."
"I know; that's why I want to go. I love the damp air in my face. It's
so refreshing."
But out among the hills where the clouds lay the thickest and the wind
blew the sharpest, the world seemed a little dreary to Blue Bonnet.
"You poor little things," she said to the sparrows hopping from fence
to tree forlornly. "The prospect of a New England winter is not as
alluring as it might be, is it? Why don't you try Texas? It's warm down
there--and sunshiny--and--
"What's the matter with me?" she said, pulling herself up in the saddle.
Then she laughed.
"I know. I'm homesick because I'm going away, and it's perfectly
ridiculous. Who ever heard of any one being homesick before they
started? I sha'n't stand for it!
"It's a good thing Aunt Lucinda didn't hear that, Chula. She'd be
horrified. What I mean is, I sha'n't let it creep in. If I do it will
make me miserable, and I can't afford to be miserable with Uncle Cliff
coming."
Blue Bonnet turned Chula sharply and headed toward home, forcing a
little tune to her lips, a smile to her eyes, with a determination that
would have done credit to a much older person.
"Why, dearie, you did not ride far, did you?" was Grandmother's cheery
welcome.
"No, it was bleaker than I thought. The wind was cold, too, but it was
refreshing just the same."
Mrs. Clyde eyed her lovingly.
Little tendrils from the fly-away hair strayed over her forehead and a
healthy red showed through the tan of her cheeks.
Her grandmother thought of a sweet wild rose just bursting into bloom
as she looked at her. There was something about Blue Bonnet that
breathed the spirit of all wild things--flowers and sweeping prairies,
broad expanses.
"There is a letter for you, Blue Bonnet. You must have known to have
hurried so."
"Why, it's from Uncle Cliff!"
Blue Bonnet tore the end off of the envelope hastily and began reading
aloud:
"'I fear I cannot reach Woodford the day before Christmas as I had
anticipated, Honey, because of a matter here which is delaying me, but I
will arrive sometime on Christmas Day. Go right on with any plans you
may have for that day, as trains are uncertain and I might get in very
late. If I am not there in time to say "Merry Christmas," remember that
I am saying it in my heart and wishing every happiness to the best
little girl in the world. I shall answer your letter in person; we will
discuss the room-mate at that time, and also the other matter which
seems to lie so close to your heart.'"
"He means Carita Judson," Blue Bonnet explained. "I told him how much I
wanted her to go with me to Miss North's school."
"'Remember me to your Grandmother and Miss Clyde, and tell them that I
am anticipating my coming visit with pleasure. Enclosed you will find a
little check for the Christmas shopping which I had hoped to enjoy with
you, but since I cannot you must enjoy it for us both.'"
"That's all. Isn't he a dear! Well, if he gets here on Christmas Day I
sha'n't complain."
Blue Bonnet handed the little pink slip of paper which had been enclosed
in the letter, to her grandmother.
"Take care of it for me, Grandmother. I don't need it any more than I do
a sore thumb, as Uncle Joe used to say."
Christmas week dawned bright and clear. Real Christmas weather, Blue
Bonnet thought one morning as she opened her window and looked out at
the trees in the apple orchard with their burden of glistening snow.
Christmas was to be celebrated rather differently from last year. Since
Uncle Cliff was not to arrive until Christmas morning, Blue Bonnet had
been permitted to spend the preceding days much as she pleased,
shopping, and enjoying the We Are Sevens' holidays with them.
Two days before Christmas she bounded in to her grandmother's presence
in a great state of excitement.
"Grandmother!" she exclaimed, "I've got the loveliest idea! I was just
over to Kitty Clark's, and the doctor is getting a Christmas tree ready
for the people out at the Poor Farm. They are going to have it at four
o'clock to-morrow afternoon, and he says that Kitty and I may go along
and help if we want to. I asked him what he was going to give them, and
he said not much, unfortunately, but a good time. He said he had hoped
to be able to collect enough money this year to buy those old ladies a
phonograph--you know--a Victrola--but everybody seems to feel so poor. I
thought of the check Uncle Cliff sent me and I told the doctor about it.
He didn't want to take it, but I said he just had to, and I ran home to
get it. Where is it, Grandmother?"
"But--Blue Bonnet, you couldn't get a phonograph here in Woodford. Not
the kind you would want--"
"No, of course not; but Doctor Clark said if you thought best for me to
give the money he could telephone to Boston this noon, and they could
get it here on the four-twenty train, without any doubt. Oh,
Grandmother, please don't say no. Seems to me I can't stand it if you
do. Don't you remember how old Mrs. Prior loved Alec's songs that day
she was here to see us? Why, she just seemed starved--"
Mrs. Clyde rose and went to the foot of the stairs.
"Lucinda," she called, "come down a minute, will you?"
Blue Bonnet did not give her grandmother time to explain, but laid her
plan before her aunt in a torrent of words.
At first, Miss Clyde seemed bewildered. Then a very tender, sympathetic
look passed between mother and daughter.
"I hardly think, Blue Bonnet, that your check would pay for the
Victrola," Miss Clyde said. "We should not want to get anything but the
best--something that would last; and records are very expensive."
Blue Bonnet looked woefully disappointed. Then she smiled delightedly.
"But, Aunt Lucinda, there's money left from what Uncle sent to buy my
clothes, you said so. Let's take that. Oh, please, Aunt Lucinda."
"I think it would be a beautiful thing to do, Lucinda," Mrs. Clyde said,
and Blue Bonnet flew to her grandmother and gave her a hug that nearly
took her off her feet.
"You know how little those poor people have to amuse them, and, as Blue
Bonnet says, Mrs. Prior seemed quite starved for music."
Miss Clyde never acted upon impulse. She thought for a few moments, then
turning, went up-stairs slowly. When she came down she handed Blue
Bonnet a check.
"I think this will buy the Victrola--and some records, too," she said.
"I would suggest that Doctor Clark get old-fashioned music--they would
like that best."
Mrs. Clyde and her daughter watched Blue Bonnet as she flew up the
street. When they turned from the window, there were tears in the eyes
of the elder woman.
"It was a generous impulse," she said; "like one of her mother's loving
deeds. I think perhaps--she knows--approves, Lucinda."
* * * * *
When the We Are Sevens heard of what Blue Bonnet had done, they insisted
upon adding their mite to the occasion; so Doctor Clark suggested that
it be turned into a We Are Sevens' party--the girls helping to give the
occupants of the Farm a real Christmas. The rest of the day, therefore,
was spent in the making of cakes and cookies, fudge and pinoche--enough,
Doctor Clark said when he saw it, to keep him employed at the farm for
weeks to come.
The Victrola came in on schedule time. Blue Bonnet and the doctor were
at the train to meet it. It would have been hard to say which was the
happier. The doctor's kindly face beamed as the box was loaded on to an
express wagon and Blue Bonnet's joy found vent in laughter.
It was a merry procession that wended its way toward the Poor Farm a
little later. Doctor Clark and Kitty leading the way in the phaeton with
heavily laden baskets, old Denham and the rest of the We Are Sevens
following in the Clyde carriage.
It must be confessed that the Christmas tree celebration was a bit
disappointing to Blue Bonnet. The old ladies--and the men, who were
permitted to attend also--seemed awed into silence. Perhaps the
sparkling tree, bright with candles and tarlatan bags of sweets, brought
memories cruel in their poignancy; and the old-fashioned songs had
rather a depressing effect than otherwise.
Doctor Clark saw the shade of disappointment cross Blue Bonnet's face,
and hastened to reassure her.
"It will be a great source of happiness to them, later, when the keen
edge of memory has been dulled by frequent contact with the wonderful
invention," he said. "Come out sometime and see for yourself."
Blue Bonnet was rather silent as she rode home that afternoon, in spite
of the We Are Sevens' chatter.
"The world seems an awfully unequal sort of place, doesn't it?" she said
to Sarah Blake. "Some people don't have enough money to make them
comfortable, and others have so much they don't know how to spend it.
What do you suppose is the reason?"
The question was beyond even thoughtful Sarah's ken.
"I don't know," she said, with all the hopelessness of a poor minister's
daughter; "but I have heard Father say that if everybody could be
started out equal--begin all over again--the same ones would be on top
in no time, treading on those less fortunate. It seems to be the law of
things, Blue Bonnet."
"But it's not fair!" Blue Bonnet insisted vehemently. "It makes me feel
wicked to have so much more than others."
"But look at the good you can do--the people you can make happy. Maybe
that is why you have it."
The thought comforted Blue Bonnet.
"I _will_ do good," she said, and there was conviction in her tone. "I
_will_, Sarah Blake. Just you wait till I come of age. Maybe I'll have
an orphan asylum all my own. You'll see!"
As Blue Bonnet entered the house on her return from the Farm, she was
conscious of some sort of scurrying just inside the sitting-room. She
looked about wonderingly as she hung her hat and coat on the hall rack,
but could see nothing unusual. The hat, hung insecurely, fell off its
peg, and she turned from the sitting-room to pick it up. The next moment
a pair of strong arms enveloped her and a deep pleasant voice was
saying, "Merry Christmas, Blue Bonnet."
"Uncle Cliff--Uncle Cliff!" was all she could say. "How ever did you get
here? Why, it isn't Christmas yet!"
"Shall I go back and wait, Honey? It is only another day."
This time her arms were about him in a grip that left no doubt as to his
welcome.
"Well, I should say not! Only--you know you said--you thought it
wouldn't be possible to get here to-day. If I had known I wouldn't have
been away for anything. Come in to the fire this minute and tell me all
about the ranch and Uncle Joe and Benita and Alec--and everything."
By the fire they had their visit out, and then Uncle Cliff turned to
Grandmother.
"Do you think, Mrs. Clyde, that I might give Blue Bonnet the Christmas
present I brought for her? On the ranch we scarcely ever waited beyond
Christmas Eve for our gifts, did we, Honey?"
Blue Bonnet smiled broadly.
"Oh, do let him, Grandmother. There'll be plenty of things left for
to-morrow."
"Your Uncle is your legal guardian, dear. I think the privilege is his
without asking."
"What is the present? Where is it?" Blue Bonnet asked, her eyes shining.
"I think Grandmother took it up in your room. I suspect you might find
it there."
Mrs. Clyde nodded.
Blue Bonnet was out of the room and climbing the stairs in a twinkling.
A second later Grandmother and Uncle Cliff heard a shout of joy, then
laughter and animated conversation.
"She found it without much difficulty," Mr. Ashe said, smiling.
A moment later he was being smothered in caresses, and a voice was
saying between tears and laughter:
"Oh, Uncle Cliff, if you aren't the darlingest, best uncle anybody in
this world ever had!" While a slim, shy young girl with soft brown eyes
looked on with interest.
There was an explanation on Uncle Cliff's part, and then Blue Bonnet
took the girl's hand in her own affectionately.
"Carita," she said, "have you met the family? You remember Grandmother,
of course; and this is my aunt, Miss Clyde. Aunt Lucinda, this is Carita
Judson. She's come to go with me to Miss North's, and I'm the happiest
girl in Massachusetts!"