KITTY'S COTILLION
"That was plucky--Blue Bonnet's riding the mare home yesterday," Alec
remarked at the breakfast-table next morning.
"What was that?" asked the General.
Alec explained.
"It was plucky," Knight remarked. "She's a true Texan, all right. What
got into the mare? Only playing, wasn't she?"
"I suppose she was," Alec answered, deep in thought. "But it was a
serious business, just the same. When Blue Bonnet fell I scarcely knew
whether I'd pick her up whole. Not having a scratch is marvelous."
"She says she has a guardian angel," Knight said, laughing. "Jove, she
must have. Only a kind and interested fate saved her yesterday. Well,
what's the program to-day?"
Alec came out of his reverie.
"To-day? Nothing in particular. There's the party at the Clarks'
to-night. Blue Bonnet's honor, I believe--and yours."
"I'm at the young ladies' disposal," Knight said.
It was late afternoon when Alec, coming in with Knight from a ride,
suggested a call at Mrs. Clyde's.
"This is about the tea hour," he said. "I'm not particularly long on
tea, but I must pay my respects to Miss Clyde and her mother."
Tea _was_ in order when the boys were ushered into Mrs. Clyde's
comfortable sitting-room. Blue Bonnet was helping herself to a second
cup.
"Just in time," she said gaily, bestowing a handshake on Knight, and
nodding at Alec.
Alec felt the omission.
"Not wholly forgiven yet," he thought, as he turned his attention to
Miss Lucinda. "'Fraid that cut on Chula must be looming large to-day."
That was exactly the trouble. Denham had noticed the mark when the horse
had been turned over to him the afternoon before, and, alarmed for Blue
Bonnet's safety, remarked about it to Miss Lucinda. The situation had
been awkward. Blue Bonnet was forced to explain; which she did with as
much credit to Chula as possible.
"Do you mean to say that Chula ran away with you?" Miss Clyde had asked.
"She was only playing, Aunt Lucinda." Blue Bonnet carefully guarded the
fact of her fall. "She felt so good after the long winter at pasture.
She didn't mean a bit of harm. I'm sure she didn't."
But Aunt Lucinda was far from satisfied, and at her first opportunity
questioned Alec.
"Don't you think Chula is a bit wild for Blue Bonnet after being out all
winter?" she asked.
Alec glanced at Blue Bonnet in surprise.
"Oh, scarcely wild, Miss Clyde. She was a little frisky yesterday from
having been in the stable a few days on extra rations. I think the
little run we gave her took away some of her surplus energy. I daresay
Blue Bonnet will have to prod her to make her move in a day or two."
"Going to stand for that, Blue Bonnet?" Knight asked. "I can't imagine a
Texas girl riding anything that had to be prodded. By the way, Kitty
tells me that Sarah has become quite expert in the art of riding: asks
at the livery stable for 'a horse with some go in him,' and has tried
out the best of them."
"Good for Sarah!" Blue Bonnet exclaimed, grateful to Knight for so
tactfully diverting the subject. "That reminds me of the day she first
rode Comanche at the ranch. The girls made such fun of her, but she
stayed with him gloriously. That was Sarah's first experience with a
horse with 'go' in him."
Blue Bonnet laughed at the recollection.
"See you and Carita to-night at Kitty's, I suppose," Alec said as he and
Knight were leaving a little later. "May we stop and take you over?"
"Thank you--yes," Blue Bonnet answered, looking more at Knight than at
Alec. "I reckon Delia will resign in your favor. She's been my duenna
for some time now."
Over at Doctor Clark's great excitement prevailed. Kitty, with the aid
of Amanda and Debby, was changing the entire landscape of the Clark
domain. Furniture was carted out wholesale. Canvas had been laid in the
large double parlors for dancing, and the hall and library reveled in
cosy corners and tête-à-têtes. Out on the broad veranda, although the
season was yet so young, comfortable nooks braved the chill atmosphere,
and Japanese lanterns gave an air of festivity.
Kitty was giving a cotillion, an event of some importance in Woodford.
Kitty's two cousins from Medford, Jack and Ferren Allen--Amherst men
home for vacation--had come over to help with arrangements and make
themselves generally agreeable at the party.
"What am I to do with this, Kitty?" Jack asked, lifting a table. "Amanda
says it stays here. Is that right?"
"In other words, I'm not to be depended upon," Amanda said, laughing. "I
told him that table was for the favors, and had to stay where it was."
"That's true, Jack," Kitty called from the porch, where she and Ferren
were struggling with rugs and Indian blankets. "Amanda's perfectly
dependable. That's her one accomplishment--making the truth go as far
as possible!"
"See?" Amanda retorted, making a little _moue_. "Next time you'll take
orders direct, and save time, won't you? Isn't it a lark, getting ready
for a party? Oh, would you please straighten out these chairs? They have
to go all round the room--so! Then perhaps you'd help Debby with the
favors. They are in that box by the window. Kitty got the sweetest
things in Boston. I do hope some nice man will present me with a pink
fan. I'm pining for one for my new gown."
"I shall try to remember," Jack promised humbly. "Pink, did you say?"
At last everything was in place. Kitty gave a parting glance at the
rooms. They must have fulfilled every requirement from the satisfied
look on her face.
"Boys," she called to her cousins, who were finishing a hasty lunch in
the dining-room, "you'll have to hurry. It's a quarter past seven this
blessed minute. How long does it take you to get into evening clothes?"
"Not as long as it takes you by an hour," Ferren called back. "We'll go
up to dress at eight, and then hang round for you."
"Don't you ever think it! I dress like chain lightning. Come on, Amanda,
we'll show them how long it takes us."
Amanda, living near, had brought her clothes over, intending to dress
with Kitty and stay all night. The girls scrambled through a half dozen
things forgotten at the last minute, and then proceeded to dress with
haste. But, sure enough, at a quarter past eight, Ferren, true to his
word, emerged immaculate from his bedroom, and commenced beating a
tattoo on Kitty's door.
"Go away!" Kitty called. "We're all ready. We're just resting a minute."
But Ferren, laughing scornfully, kept up the noise until the girls
appeared.
Kitty opened the door and gave him a push.
"Go away now. You see we _are_ dressed! We only have to put on a few
touches; Amanda's flowers and--"
"I know those touches, Kitty. Come along!"
In the front parlor Doctor Clark stood waiting to receive the guests
with his daughter. Mrs. Clark, being an invalid, found herself unequal
to such occasions.
"Oh, Father, you look--just lovely!" Kitty said, smiling up to him and
noting every detail of his correct evening dress. "Only--just a minute;
it's your tie! There! Isn't he splendid, Amelia? My, but this is an
occasion! I do hope everybody will have a good time. There's Blue
Bonnet. I hear her voice. She's early, isn't she? Amanda, take a peek at
the favors, will you, and tell Sarah not to get them mixed. I have
explained it all to her a dozen times, but when one doesn't dance, one
is apt to bungle."
It had fallen to Sarah's lot to preside at the favor table; a treat she
was looking forward to with no little pleasure. It was nice to be taking
part, even if one couldn't dance.
Blue Bonnet was looking her best in the pink gown purchased for the
dinner the week before. She was very attractive as she entered the room
between Alec and Knight, whose glances followed her approvingly.
"Some party, Miss Clark!" Alec said, bowing before that young lady in
his best military form. "I was just telling Knight that he was in luck
to be introduced to society under such favorable circumstances."
"I'm certainly in luck to be here," Knight said. "May I see your
program, Kitty?"
"We haven't any programs, Knight. This is to be a cotillion. The _girls_
get a chance to bestow favors. See that table where Sarah is sitting?
Come over and I'll explain."
Which she did, a little to Knight's bewilderment.
The rooms began to fill up. On the up-stairs landing violins squeaked in
the tuning. Ferren, who was to lead the cotillion with Kitty, chose six
couples for the first figure, and the dance began.
Alec and Knight both stood before Blue Bonnet. "I suppose you are going
to say 'how happy I'd be with either,' aren't you?" Knight said
laughing.
Blue Bonnet paused only a second.
"Since Knight is the guest of honor I think I'd best dance with him,"
she said.
But Alec, nothing daunted, brought her his first favor.
"You can't resist this vanity box, Blue Bonnet," he said, smiling
broadly.
Blue Bonnet accepted the favor, but after a couple of turns through the
rooms, she stopped.
"Want to sit it out?" Alec asked.
"If you please--I think I should rather."
They found a seat in one of the cosy corners. Alec strove to be
entertaining. Suddenly, in the midst of the conversation, he broke off
abruptly:
"I say, Blue Bonnet! You're not vexed still about that Chula affair, are
you?"
"No; certainly not."
"You're awfully quiet!"
"I just happen to feel quiet, I reckon."
"Sorry to miss this two-step. We won't have many more dances."
"Oh, there'll be lots of parties."
"Yes, I daresay--but not for me."
"Why?"
"Because--I leave in the morning."
"In the morning?"
"My holiday is over. I'm only here at all through a special
dispensation of Providence. I ought to be at school this minute,
grinding like the mischief. Our exams begin the last Monday in April,
and they're no joke."
In her keen disappointment Blue Bonnet forgot her small grievance.
"Why, that's perfectly outrageous! The very idea, only three days!"
"But they've been such bully days! It's been so pleasant to see Judson
again. He'll be here. He's going to stay on for a week with
Grandfather."
"And when will you get another holiday?"
"Two years from next June, if I'm lucky."
"How do you mean, lucky?"
"If I pass the examinations and make the Point. If I do, I enter the
twelfth of June for two years."
"Why, it's just like having a sentence! Why didn't you stay at the
ranch? One can do as one pleases there, at any rate."
A half wistful expression crept into Alec's eyes.
"That's true," he said. "I loved the ranch life, but--you
see--Grandfather had chosen the army for me, and when the appointment
came, I knew what a disappointment it would be to him if I didn't make a
try at it. It's all right though. I like it. There's a fascination about
it. Think you don't want to finish this dance?"
Blue Bonnet rose, but just as they moved off the music stopped.
For the next two or three dances Blue Bonnet saw nothing at all of Alec.
She looked about the room once or twice for him, but he was nowhere to
be seen.
"Where's Alec?" she inquired of Knight when he came up to her for a
dance. "He seems to have disappeared."
"I saw him on the veranda talking with Kitty a minute ago," Knight said,
peering in that direction. "Don't believe he's dancing much."
Blue Bonnet watched her opportunity and carried her next favor to Alec;
but Kitty was ahead of her. The rest of the evening was spoilt for her.
She had hurt Alec; and Alec was going away to-morrow--for two years! Two
years seemed an eternity.
Some one announced supper, and Blue Bonnet and Knight wended their way
toward the dining-room. Kitty came into view at the same moment. Alec
and her cousin Ferren were both claiming her company for refreshments.
"Go get Debby, Ferren," Blue Bonnet heard Kitty say. "I'm taking care of
Alec to-night. He's going away to-morrow and we sha'n't see him again
for ages." Then, spying Blue Bonnet and Carita, she, called:
"Come over here, girls, Alec has heaps to say to you. Did you know he
was going away to-morrow, Blue Bonnet? I never was so surprised in my
life! I tell him I think it's right horrid of him and such a scarcity of
boys in Woodford."
For a few minutes the conversation was lively. Knight took the
opportunity to tease Kitty about Sandy, the young Texan who had found
her so attractive the summer before.
Blue Bonnet tried to appear interested. She smiled and answered
questions in monosyllables. She wondered afterwards if she had smiled in
the right place: her thoughts had been miles away from Sandy and
Kitty--from her surroundings. She was wondering how she could make Alec
understand that she was sorry for having been so disagreeable; that she
should miss him terribly during the rest of the vacation. She had turned
the matter over in her mind for the twentieth time without coming to any
definite conclusion when Alec began saying good-by.
"I'm going to turn Blue Bonnet and Carita over to Knight's care," she
heard him saying. "I have to get out early in the morning and there are
a few things to be done yet to-night. It's been a great old party,
Kitty. If I make the Point you'll have to come down to some of the
dances next winter. Good-by. See you all again one of these days, I
suppose."
"You'll see us all to-morrow morning at the station," Kitty answered,
looking straight at Blue Bonnet, hoping she would acquiesce, but Blue
Bonnet in her surprise could scarcely find voice to speak.
It was not until she was in the privacy of her own room that Blue Bonnet
confided her disappointment to Carita.
"I've been perfectly horrid to Alec," she confessed. "I've been angry at
him ever since he struck Chula yesterday. I don't know why--Chula did
act badly. Perhaps it was because I was so horribly upset. I was so
frightened--oh, you can't think how frightened! And now he's going
away--for two years--and he'll never know how sorry I am."
"Why didn't you tell him?" Carita asked.
"I wanted to, but I couldn't get a chance. He seemed so terribly
interested in Kitty. I couldn't get near him--alone."
"Why don't you write him a note, Blue Bonnet? Write and tell him that
you _were_ angry, but that you're all over it now."
"A note? I hadn't thought of that. How could I get a note to him? He
leaves so early in the morning."
"Write it now and we'll skip out and put it under his front door. We can
slip down-stairs--no one will hear us, and--"
"Carita! You don't know what you are talking about. It's twenty minutes
after twelve this instant. Don't you ever think you could get out of
this house without Aunt Lucinda's knowing it. She sleeps with one eye
open. No--that won't do. Can't you think of something else?"
"Yes--" Carita answered after a moment. "You write the note. I always
wake early in the morning--I got the habit in Texas and it seems to stay
with me. I'll get up and take it over early--very early, and give it to
the maid--or--I could send it by Denham, couldn't I? He's always up by
six o'clock."
"Of course--the very thing! You're sure you don't mind? You'll be
awfully sleepy in the morning."
"I'd love to do it," Carita answered, truthfully. To be of service to
Blue Bonnet constituted her greatest happiness. "Hurry up and write it!"
For the next ten minutes Blue Bonnet's pen scratched away busily. There
must have been some difficulty in writing the note, for several attempts
went the way of the waste basket. Finally it was done. Blue Bonnet read
it through three times, then slipped it into an envelope and laid it on
the table beside the bed.
"There it is," she said, eying it with misgivings. "I hope it's all
right, and I haven't been too awfully humble. I don't suppose he cares a
rap, anyway--as long as--"
She stopped abruptly. She was going to say "as long as Kitty Clark was
around," but she couldn't bring herself to it.
Carita was up with the larks the next morning and slipping down-stairs
quietly, so that she did not even waken Blue Bonnet, found Denham and
gave him the note.
"It's for Mr. Alec, Denham," she said, "and it's very, _very_ important.
Please take it over immediately and give it to the cook. Tell her to
give it to Mr. Alec the first thing when he comes down to breakfast.
And, Denham, please impress upon her how important it is. She might
mislay it or something."
Denham promised faithfully, and a few hours later at the station Blue
Bonnet was rewarded by a cordial handshake from Alec.
"I got the note all right, Blue Bonnet. It was good of you to send it
over--makes my going away a lot easier. Hope you have a jolly good
vacation. Put Judson through his paces, won't you? Good-by. Send along
some of those fine letters of yours and tell me all the news."
He was off, and Blue Bonnet watched the long train vanish into a black
speck.
"Come along, Solomon," she said with a faint sigh, after Alec's last
salute had been lost to view, "there's no use moping here."
She left the girls at the first corner and turned into a little lane
that led to the Widow Patten's cottage. The Widow Patten was a unique
figure in the village. Small of stature, cheery of countenance,
charitable by nature, she mothered the town. Fate had not been kind to
Mrs. Patten, but she cherished no resentment; it had left her a pair of
willing hands, and indomitable courage to face emergencies.
"Seems to me if I'd had to endure all that the Widow Patten has, I'd
have given up long ago," more than one neighbor said, beholding her
sorrows and cares; but the Widow Patten _never_ gave up. "The way will
open," was one of her favorite sayings, and nine times out of ten it
did. It had opened up opportunely when Miss Clyde asked her to take
little Gabriel and his nurse from the city hospital. The pantry had been
deplorably bare, and the very substantial check that preceded the
invalid's coming had been a godsend.
Blue Bonnet opened the white picket gate and walked up the path bordered
with old-fashioned flags that led to Mrs. Patten's front door. She
knocked softly.
Mrs. Patten was not long in answering. She flung back the door with a
gesture that bespoke hospitality.
"Why, it's Miss Blue Bonnet," she said, smiling a welcome. "Come right
in. S'pose you want to see Gabriel. He's out in the orchard with Miss
Warren. They're both crazy 'bout the fruit blooms and the sunshine."
She led the way through a spotless kitchen, and Blue Bonnet stopped at
the door to catch a glimpse of Gabriel's ecstatic face. The child was
propped with soft, comfortable pillows in a wheel chair. It was the
first time Blue Bonnet had seen him out of bed, and the sight of his
crutches gave her a start.
"So you arrived safely?" she said, shaking hands with Miss Warren and
dropping down beside Gabriel.
Gabriel removed his eyes from a robin in the peach-tree long enough to
say "good morning" at his nurse's request. Then he spied Solomon.
"A dog!" he cried delightedly, as if wonders were multiplying too
rapidly to be true.
Blue Bonnet took Solomon by the collar and pulled him closer to the boy.
"Pet him," she said, "he won't hurt you." But at Solomon's friendly
approach the child shrank away in terror.
"Gabriel has never known much about dogs," Miss Warren explained. "And
just think, Miss Ashe, he's never seen a robin before! That's why he
forgot to speak to you; he was entranced."
Entranced he was. The trees in bloom; the soft fragrant air swaying the
leaves gently; the singing birds; Mrs. Patten's lazy yellow cat drowsing
in the sunshine; the chickens cackling in the tiny barnyard, opened up
a panorama before the child's wondering eyes that could scarcely be
eclipsed by heaven itself. Only one who has lain for months in a
hospital ward with blank walls and a sea of sick faces, could have
appreciated the vision.
"'Tain't any better than this, is it--the place where we're goin'?"
"Well--" Blue Bonnet paused a moment before answering. She wondered if
anything _could_ be better than Woodford in the spring. She had grown to
love it very dearly herself.
"There's the pony," she said at last. "You haven't forgotten about him,
have you? And there are great stretches of land to gallop over as soon
as you are well enough--and there's Uncle Cliff, and Uncle Joe and
Benita. Benita adores little boys. Just wait until you hear some of her
stories and taste her cookies."
"Stories 'bout Injuns and soldiers?"
"Yes, some."
Gabriel heaved a sigh of content and his head dropped back on the
pillows contentedly.
"Guess it'll suit me all right," he said, "specially the pony. What you
s'pose he looks like?"
"I shouldn't wonder if he was a bay--or perhaps brown; and not so very
high. Just high enough for a little boy to climb on easily. Were you
ever on a pony?"
"Gee--no! Wish I could see him right now!"
"Would you like to see my pony?"
Gabriel's eyes brightened.
"Bet yer!" he said. "Could I get on him?"
"Maybe. I'll see."
"Can you get him now?"
"I reckon I could--yes."
She was back in a short time on Chula; Knight Judson with her on Victor.
They hitched the horses round at the back of the little house so that
Gabriel might get a good view of them.
"Gee! Oh, I wish--Couldn't I get on one of 'em? Just a minute?"
Miss Warren looked alarmed.
"Not to-day, dear. You aren't nearly strong enough. I couldn't think of
letting you."
"Not if I lifted him very carefully and held him, Miss Warren?" Knight
asked.
Gabriel's eyes plead with her.
"Knight would be very careful," Blue Bonnet urged.
All three turned and looked at the child. His cheeks had flushed
scarlet; his eyes were as brilliant as stars, his little thin arms
outstretched toward Chula with the wildest anticipation.
"Just for a minute then, if Mr. Judson will be very careful."
Knight already had the child in his arms and was lifting him with the
greatest tenderness. Gabriel sank into the saddle and reached for the
lines with a chuckle of delight.
"Git ap!" he said, "git ap!"
Knight patted Chula's shoulder and spoke quietly.
"Careful, old girl. This is a little sick boy you have on your back; no
capers to-day."
"Couldn't he just walk round a minute?" Gabriel begged.
Knight looked at Miss Warren.
"If Mr. Judson takes you round _once_ will you get off willingly,
Gabriel?"
Gabriel promised with a quick nod.
Around they went once--so carefully; Blue Bonnet leading Chula, and
Knight holding the child in the saddle. When they came back to the place
where they had started, Gabriel put his arms round Knight's neck and the
tired body sank into the strong arms willingly. Knight carried him to
the chair and Gabriel snuggled into the pillows exhausted.
"He will be all right presently," Miss Warren promised, noting Blue
Bonnet's and Knight's alarm. "He has no reserve strength yet--but it
will come; here, in this sunshine."
Miss Warren went into the house for a glass of milk for Gabriel, and
Blue Bonnet, dropping down beside him, rubbed his colorless little
hands. For a moment the eyelids fluttered weakly; then they opened
slowly and the eyes smiled.
"It was fine!" he said, almost in a whisper. "Fine! Say, bring him
again to-morrow, will you?"
Blue Bonnet promised, and as she mounted Chula a few minutes later, a
weak voice called:
"To-morrow! Don't forget--you promised!"