THE GATHERING OF THE CLANS
"Blue Bonnet! Do you really truly mean it?"
Kitty Clark stood before a pile of fluffy, shimmering gowns at
Hollander's, her hands clasped ecstatically, her face wreathed in
smiles.
"Girls!" she cried, "Sarah! Amanda! Did you hear what Blue Bonnet said?
We are each to choose a gown--a dinner gown and a party coat; gifts from
Mr. Ashe. Did you ever hear of anything so splendid in your lives? Just
fancy being able to _choose_ what one really wants, and not something
that will 'do nicely!' A party coat, too, Blue Bonnet? You're sure
you're not mistaken? Why, it will cost a fearful lot for six of us!"
"I don't think you need worry about that, Kitty Kat. Uncle Cliff isn't
minding the price. Just choose something pretty and becoming. Carita and
I are to select, too. Come on, girls!"
"But, Blue Bonnet!" it was practical Sarah who spoke, "we mustn't be
extravagant just because your uncle has been so good. Didn't he put a
limit on the price?"
"No, he did not, Sarah. Uncle Cliff doesn't put a limit on what he
gives. He said to get what you each liked. You'd better get busy.
Kitty's going to have the pick if you don't."
Kitty was already holding up the daintiest blue embroidered chiffon.
"Isn't this perfectly exquisite?" she said, catching Blue Bonnet's
glance. The saleswoman came forward with a pale green messaline.
"The young lady could wear either of these, with her hair," she
remarked.
"Put one of them on, Kitty," Blue Bonnet suggested. "One could hardly
choose, they are both so dear. The blue one is simpler, I think, and
blue is your color."
Kitty emerged presently from the dressing-room in the blue gown. The
girls exclaimed in a breath. Kitty looked charming. The saleswoman
selected a blue velvet wrap of a darker shade and threw it over Kitty's
shoulders. The effect was enchanting.
"Kitty!" Blue Bonnet cried, "that's simply stunning! Wait a minute--keep
it on until I get Grandmother and Uncle Cliff."
Grandmother and Uncle Cliff beheld the transformation in silence for a
minute. Grandmother spoke first.
"It is very beautiful, Kitty--very--but I fear--Is it not a little old
for you, dear?"
Kitty looked her disappointment, and the saleswoman came to the rescue.
"The gown is one of our young girl models, madam, and really very
simple. The coat is not elaborate either. Indeed it is very plain--as
coats go now. I think the young lady could scarcely make a mistake in
choosing them."
Mr. Ashe smiled his approval.
"You like them, Kitty?" he asked.
"Oh, Mr. Ashe, I perfectly adore them!"
"Then if Mrs. Clyde thinks them suitable, take them, by all means."
Mrs. Clyde hesitated. She wished that her daughter had not selected this
hour to attend to business matters. She would have liked her approval.
"I wish your Aunt Lucinda might see them first, dear," she said to Blue
Bonnet. "I hardly feel capable of choosing for Kitty."
"But Aunt Lucinda said she couldn't possibly get through with her
affairs before lunch, Grandmother--you remember hearing her say that,
don't you? Well, you see we've got to choose quickly, because the girls
want to wear the gowns to the dinner to-night, and if there are any
alterations it couldn't be managed. Anyway, Grandmother, I _know_
they're all right. They aren't a speck more elaborate than the girls at
Miss North's wear. Please let Kitty have them."
And Mrs. Clyde, under pressure of the argument and the moment,
capitulated.
Kitty moved off toward the dressing-room in a transport of happiness,
and the other girls in turn made their selections. Debby found a
rose-colored dress that suited her admirably; Sarah, after much
deliberation, chose a substantial afternoon gown that would serve for
dinner and party also; a gown that would have pleased Aunt Lucinda down
to the ground. Amanda made her selection after the order of Kitty's; a
white embroidered swiss over a pink slip, with a wrap that blended, and
yet appeared substantial; while Susy and Ruth, showing extremely good
judgment, abided by Mrs. Clyde's decision, and selected simple sheer
white organdies with charming sashes, and girlish looking coats of dark
red broadcloth.
Carita and Blue Bonnet waited until all the others had been supplied.
Then Blue Bonnet found a little frock of pale pink crepe de chine;
something she had long wanted; and Carita cast her lot with Ruth and
Susy, selecting an organdy not unlike theirs, and a coat of blue
broadcloth.
It was a happy party that filed out of the store an hour later, after
all accessories to the costumes had been found and purchased.
Luncheon was a merry feast, enjoyed at the Touraine; as was also the
motor ride in the afternoon. But the real joy of the day came with the
dinner in the evening. The table, according to Blue Bonnet's
instructions, had been laid in the Palm Room. Miss Clyde much preferred
a private dining-room; but Blue Bonnet had insisted that half the fun
was in seeing the life at the hotel, and Miss Clyde finally withdrew her
objections.
Mr. Ashe sat at the head of the table with Mrs. Clyde at his right and
Mrs. White at his left. At the opposite end sat Miss Clyde, and the
Lambs and the We Are Sevens alternated about the board. Annabel Jackson
had Kitty Clark under her wing; while Sue Hemphill entertained Amanda.
An arrangement which proved entirely satisfactory, judging from the
merriment that came from their respective quarters.
Blue Bonnet, glancing at her guests, indulged in the utmost
satisfaction. The Lambs were charming in the new gowns; but, thanks to
Uncle Cliff, not a whit more so than her beloved We Are Sevens--a fact
which the Lambs themselves appreciated. Joy Cross, between Blue Bonnet
and kind-hearted Wee Watts, looked very happy.
The place cards caused great amusement; and it is safe to say that each
one found its way into a memory book for future reference and pleasure.
Patty Paine, gifted in art, had painted them charmingly, while Angela
Dare, despite her scorn for mere "doggerel," had penned a verse suitable
to each guest. Jokes and jests were the order of the evening. Each girl
had been asked to bring her best story, and consequently there were no
lapses into silence or stupid pauses during courses.
"It has been the most wonderful success, Blue Bonnet," Annabel
whispered, as the party left the table. "And I _did so_ enjoy Kitty
Clark. I couldn't keep my eyes off her."
"I'm so glad, Annabel," Blue Bonnet answered, giving the hand in her own
a squeeze. "We must hurry a bit now. We're going to the Plymouth to see
'Pomander Walk.' They say it's dear."
The play came up to expectations. The girls enjoyed it hugely. Enjoyed
it just as they enjoyed the supper at the Touraine later--with the
enthusiasm of youth and good health.
"Uncle Cliff," Blue Bonnet said, when they were finally back at the
hotel, and she was saying good night at his own door, "I believe this
has been the very happiest day of my life. I can't begin to thank you
for it; you've been so good--and so generous. Wasn't it splendid the way
the girls took to the dresses--and Aunt Lucinda having that appointment
just at that hour? It seemed almost as if--as if the fairies had had a
hand in it all, didn't it? We couldn't have arranged it better if we'd
tried. But I'm afraid I did Aunt Lucinda an injustice. She didn't mind
about our getting the girls the dresses at all. I believe she liked it.
She said it was a great privilege to be able to give so much happiness."
And stooping to kiss Blue Bonnet, Mr. Ashe asked:
"You were satisfied, then, Honey? It went off as well as you had
expected? You are quite content?"
Blue Bonnet hesitated before she replied.
"What is it, Honey? Speak up. Have we left something undone?"
"There's just one thing, Uncle Cliff. I'm almost ashamed to mention it
in the face of all you've done to-day--but--it's about Gabriel. If we
could only do something for the poor little fellow. Oh, Uncle Cliff, you
can't think how it hurts me to see him fading away in that place,
when--when there's sunshine going to waste on the Blue Bonnet ranch, and
ponies eating their heads off in the stables."
"I thought of that, too, Honey, and--I wasn't going to tell you
to-night, Blue Bonnet--you've had enough excitement for one day; but
Miss Clyde went to see Gabriel this morning--that was her business
engagement--and we're going to take the little chap to Woodford with his
nurse for a while. Miss Clyde thinks that she can find a boarding-place.
When he gets stronger we'll get him down to the ranch; down into God's
own country, Honey, where people have to look in the dictionary to find
out what 'tuberculosis' means. There! there! I knew I shouldn't have
told you to-night. You're all worn out. Come, come, Honey! the girls are
waiting for you."
But Blue Bonnet, arms about her uncle's neck, was sobbing out the
gladness of her heart.
* * * * *
It was on the way back to the hotel from church the next day that Blue
Bonnet, lagging a bit behind Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda, said to
Kitty:
"I don't know whether you girls will enjoy the visit we have to pay to
the relatives to-day very much or not. It won't be exciting, but
Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda would be hurt if we didn't go."
"I think it's about time we were considering somebody besides ourselves
after all that's been done for us," Kitty replied. "I shall love to go,
myself. I met your Cousin Tracy once in Woodford and I liked him ever so
much."
And the others, whether out of courtesy or not, echoed Kitty's
sentiments.
But the afternoon proved far from stupid. Cousin Tracy went to great
lengths to be entertaining, and Cousin Honora and Cousin Augusta were so
hospitable in their quaint surroundings that Kitty whispered to Blue
Bonnet:
"I feel as if they had stepped out of a book--Cranford,--or something!"
An announcement that Blue Bonnet scarcely knew whether to take as a
compliment or not. She recalled the refinement of the Cranford family,
but to be so far behind the time in this day and generation.
Kitty saw the puzzled expression and qualified the remark instantly.
"I mean they are so aristocratic--there is such an atmosphere about
them."
It was quite eight o'clock when Andrews, the man-servant who had been
with Miss Augusta for so many years, came into the library and lighted
the tall candlesticks on the bookcases; stirred the fire and made the
table ready for the large tray that, laden with cake and sandwiches,
followed immediately. Miss Honora poured the tea, and the girls passed
the refreshments.
It was all delightfully cosy, and the Boston relatives enjoyed the
girls' breezy chatter; and the schoolgirl experiences, which were highly
entertaining.
"And have you initiated the Spanish costume at Miss North's yet, Blue
Bonnet?" Cousin Tracy asked.
The faintest pink crept into Blue Bonnet's cheeks as she remembered
Cousin Tracy's introduction to the costume. She laughed gaily as she
answered:
"I haven't worn it myself; but some of the girls have. It makes a fine
fancy dress costume. I believe Carita had it last at a Freshman party.
She was a picture in it, too."
Ten o'clock came before any one realized it. The girls had been
interested in Cousin Tracy's specimens and stories; and Grandmother and
Aunt Lucinda had enjoyed a visit with the relatives whom they saw too
infrequently.
"Girls, it's almost over," Kitty exclaimed disconsolately, as she put
her things in her bag that night at the hotel. "I wish it were just
beginning."
She looked about the pretty suite which she and Amanda had occupied
jointly.
"I don't know how I'm going to give up all this elegance and come down
to earth, and Woodford again. Oh, dear--a little touch of high life is
awfully unsettling!"
"I don't feel that way at all," Amanda declared. "It will give me
something to think about for weeks to come. Kitty, how are we ever going
to pay Mr. Ashe and Blue Bonnet for all they have done?"
"They don't want any pay," Blue Bonnet said, entering the room at that
moment. "Uncle Cliff says he has had a beautiful time, and--well, I
reckon you all know how I've enjoyed it. Could I help you pack? My trunk
went from the school yesterday and my bag's all ready."
"No, I think not, thank you--unless you would be good enough to fold
this dress and party coat, Blue Bonnet. I want to keep them as fresh as
possible until Mother sees them. They _are_ such loves!"
Kitty produced the box in which they had been sent home, and in another
moment they were skillfully laid away between tissue paper.
"My, but you do that cleverly," Kitty said, as she watched Blue Bonnet's
nimble fingers. "It almost makes one wish for an Aunt Lucinda. She
taught you a great deal about neatness, didn't she?"
"She certainly did! I've learned a lot at school, too. Our bureau
drawers are inspected regularly. If any one thinks boarding-school is
all fun, they're mistaken. You're trained from the ground up!"
Woodford had put on her finest spring array for the return of her
children, and Blue Bonnet thought the quaint old village had never
looked half so lovely as they drove up the quiet street through the
avenue of elms. Denham, with Solomon at his heels, was waiting at the
station. Solomon wagged his joy at seeing his mistress, and Blue Bonnet
was no less enthusiastic in her greeting.
"I see that you take good care of him, Denham," she said, nodding toward
the dog affectionately. "And Chula? Is she up from pasture waiting for
me?"
"She is, Miss Blue Bonnet," the old coachman answered cheerfully. "An'
right skittish, too. I don't think she's had a saddle to her back since
you last rode her. I meant to give her a run yesterday, but Darrell's
boy was late getting her in. Think you'd better let me try her out,
Miss, before you mount."
"Thank you, Denham, but Chula is as safe as a lamb. I'll take her out
this afternoon and give her a taste of what's before her for the next
week. I'll put her through her paces. Don't worry!"
But the afternoon was so full of a number of things that Chula stood in
her stall indulging in an extra supply of oats which Blue Bonnet had
insisted upon in honor of her home-coming.
"She's had poor food all winter, Denham," she said. "Just hay and stuff.
Feed her up a bit, and I'll give her a run the first thing in the
morning."
But in the morning Alec arrived with Knight Judson, and in the rush of
things Chula was again neglected.
It was the third morning after Blue Bonnet's arrival that Chula was at
last brought round to the side door. There was to be a riding party; a
scamper through the woods with lunch in the hills afterward.
"Hold her a minute, please, Denham," Blue Bonnet called from her bedroom
window, which overlooked the side driveway. "I'll be down in two
seconds."
At that moment Alec and Knight rode up, and Alec, dismounting, threw
Chula's bridle over his arm. Chula gave her head a toss and shied away.
"There, girl!" Alec rubbed her nose and spoke kindly. "What's up? Too
much high living?"
"That's it exactly, sir," Denham said, touching his hat respectfully. "I
wanted Miss Blue Bonnet to let me give her a turn before she mounted,
but she thinks she can manage her. She's just feelin' her oats, sir.
She'll settle down after the first mile or two."
But Chula did not settle down after the first mile; nor the second.
"Better let me give her a run," Alec insisted, but Blue Bonnet refused.
After the first five miles Chula began to lose the restlessness that had
taken possession of her. Some one in the party suggested that the horses
be let out a bit, and they were off in a bunch, Chula well in the lead.
"I don't like the way that mare is acting," Alec said to Knight. "Veer
round to the left of Blue Bonnet and keep pretty close to her for a
while. I'll take the other side."
Knight urged the big grey horse he was riding and caught up with Blue
Bonnet; but Chula, taking the grey's speed for a challenge, shot forth
in a wild run.
It took a moment or two for the rest of the party to grasp the fact that
Chula, gentle, docile Chula, was in earnest; that she was really running
away.
There was a shriek from Debby, which did not help matters in the least,
and a horrified groan from the rest of the We Are Sevens. Knight Judson,
thoroughly alarmed, took up the chase; but his horse, big and clumsy,
was no mate for Chula, who was running at breakneck speed.
Alec took in the situation at a glance. He feared to catch up with Blue
Bonnet, lest Chula should take Victor's presence as a further invitation
to contest; and yet, it seemed the only thing to do. Blue Bonnet was in
a fair way to lose control of the animal at any moment. He raced on at
top speed. Fortunately they were on a rising piece of ground, and Alec
could see that Chula was pretty well winded.
"Hold tight, Blue Bonnet," he called, as he came up behind her. "You're
all right! I'm close behind you. Keep up your nerve!"
Whether it was the welcome sound of Alec's voice in such close
proximity, or utter exhaustion, Blue Bonnet could scarcely have said,
herself; but loosening her feet from the stirrups as if by magic, she
swayed forward in the saddle, and in another instant lay an unconscious
heap in the road.
Alec was at her side in a moment: lowering her head, rubbing her hands,
and calling upon Knight to run to the brook for water.
"She's only fainted, I'm sure," he said in response to Knight's look of
distress. "I don't believe she's hurt a bit. The mare was only playing;
but, by George, wait till I catch her! I'll teach her how to run away
in the future!"
Alec's face was white with anxiety and anger, and his jaw set with
determination that boded no good for Chula.
Blue Bonnet stirred presently; opened her eyes. The sight of Alec and
Knight bending over her in the road bewildered her. Then she remembered,
and a look of horror came into her eyes. She sat up frantically.
"Chula!" she cried, scanning the road eagerly. "Where is she? Alec,
catch her! Catch her quickly! If she goes home without me it will
frighten Grandmother to death."
Knight was off in a twinkling, coming back in a few minutes leading
Chula by her bridle.
"Little devil!" he said, laughing. "She was browsing up there on the
hillside as peaceful as a lamb. Weren't you, old girl?"
But Alec, still white with anger, jumped to his feet and snatching
Chula's bridle from Knight's hands, struck the mare a stinging blow with
his whip across her shoulder.
Blue Bonnet was up and at Chula's side instantly. She wrenched the whip
from Alec's hand and her voice quivered with passion.
"How dare you strike my horse, Alec Trent! How dare you!"
Her arms were round Chula's neck instantly; her fingers caressing the
ugly mark that was beginning to show deep in the sorrel shoulder.
For a moment Alec gazed at Blue Bonnet, dumb with amazement. Then he
took a step toward her apologetically.
"I beg your pardon," he said slowly. "I beg your pardon, Blue Bonnet.
Not for striking Chula. She needed what I gave her; but for losing my
temper. I'm sorry."
Blue Bonnet, still trying to smooth out the mark on Chula's shoulder,
answered not a word. There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then
she suggested that the party move on.
"Will you lend me your hand, Knight?" she said. "I don't believe I can
mount alone this time."
There was a protest from all the young people.
"Blue Bonnet! You're surely not going to ride Chula again to-day! You
can't! You're all unstrung! She may run again; you really must not."
"Your hand, please, Knight," Blue Bonnet insisted calmly.
Alec stepped forward and took Chula's bridle. At his touch the mare
shied, almost jerking the reins from his hands.
Blue Bonnet snatched the bridle and turned on Alec.
"Will you leave my horse alone, please?" she said angrily. "You see, she
hates your touch!"
It was Kitty who strove to heal the breach.
"Don't be ridiculous, Blue Bonnet! Chula got just what was coming to
her. She might have killed you; throwing you like that--"
"She didn't throw me, Kitty Clark! You don't know what you're talking
about! Knight, are you going to help me, or not? If you aren't, I can
mount from that log over there."
Knight came forward hesitatingly.
"Really," he said, "I think you are very unwise, Blue Bonnet. The mare
is excited yet; she might--"
"You don't understand, Knight. There is a reason why I _must_ ride
Chula--_now, this very minute_. I am not at all nervous--see?"
She held out a cool, steady hand and Knight took it for an instant in
his own.
"You're game, all right," he answered. "Here goes, then."
He lifted her into the saddle and she took up the reins firmly. For the
second time she had conquered an abiding fear.
The remainder of the ride was a sad failure. Blue Bonnet felt it as she
tried to entertain Knight, who kept close to her side. Alec rode with
Kitty; but his eyes scarcely left Chula, who was behaving quite decently
now that her frolic was over.
Kitty tried to interest Alec with stories of her Boston trip; the dinner
for the Lambs; the gay theatre party; but all she got for her effort
was a mere occasional, "You don't say," or "That was fine, now, wasn't
it?"
Finally, in exasperation, Kitty rebelled.
"Forget it, Alec," she said. "That was only one of Blue Bonnet's
flashes. She adores Chula, and she knew she was only playing. You did
give the horse a bad cut, though. She needed it, nevertheless. I don't
see how Blue Bonnet ever escaped breaking her neck, falling like that!"
To all of which Alec made no answer, except to suggest that they ride on
and select a place for lunch.
The picnic, which had promised so much, was also a dire failure. In the
first place it was a trifle early for a picnic. There was chill in the
air, though the sun shone brightly.
Blue Bonnet ate her sandwiches and talked to Knight merrily; but never
once did her glance meet Alec's, or her conversation lead in his
direction.
As the party reached town and the girls took their respective roads
home, Blue Bonnet found herself for the first time alone with Alec.
Knight had gone ahead with Kitty and Amanda. Alec drew up beside her and
for a moment they rode in silence.
"Were you hurt, Blue Bonnet?" he asked.
"Not in the least, thank you," she replied indifferently.
"I hope you aren't going to be angry. I did exactly what I would have
done to Victor, or any other beast that acted that way."
"We'll drop the matter," Blue Bonnet said coolly. "But there's one
thing--I hope you won't feel it your duty to tell Aunt Lucinda about
what happened and spoil my vacation. It would put a ban on Chula forever
more. My falling was my own fault; not hers. I slipped off in preference
to--perhaps--being dragged."
All at once the light began to dawn upon Alec. He remembered the fear
that had so long obsessed Blue Bonnet; the fear of being dragged.
The horses were walking now, and Alec leaned over and put his hand on
the pummel of Chula's saddle; presently it slipped down in a caress on
the mare's shoulder.
"I beg your pardon, Chula girl," he said. "I was pretty hard on you,
wasn't I? Are you ready to forgive me?"
And whether it was because at that moment Mrs. Clyde's comfortable barn
hove in sight, or in response to Alec's pleading, Chula gave a low
whinny, and her mistress, looking into Alec's face which was lifted for
her approval, smiled.