THE PARTY ITSELF
The weedy roadside was a witching tangle of shadows, and the air
was drowsy with spicy, wind-blown scents, as four motor cars swept
on their merry way to Foxford.
Juanita Sterling, in the last of the procession, watched the gay
little imps dance across the windshield and thought glad thoughts.
It was going to be a worth-while evening she felt sure, and it was
good that her left-hand neighbors, Miss Major and Mrs. Winslow
Teed, had each other to entertain, and she was free to anticipate
and ponder and to feast her heart on the visions of the night.
The sometimes insisting opinions of Miss Major and the familiar
"When I was abroad" of Mrs. Winslow Teed seldom obtruded on her
dreams. Once, however, she came to her surroundings with a start.
"No," Miss Major was asserting, "Nelson Randolph is not the man for
the place. He takes some things for granted and lets other things
drift. If we had a good, live president, our superintendent would
get her walking ticket instanter."
"A little strange he doesn't marry again. His wife has been gone
for some years, hasn't she?"
"Five last June. They say he is devoted to her memory. I don't
take much stock in such devotedness--so far as men are concerned.
When he finds some pink and white doll that is sufficiently
captivating he will go through with another wedding ceremony."
"That makes me think of a Danish couple I met in Florence," began
Mrs. Winslow Teed; "she couldn't have been over nineteen or twenty,
and he was eighty at least. She--"
Miss Sterling was again absorbed in her own thoughts and never
heard what became of the poorly-mated travelers.
Doodles and Blue ran down from the veranda as the cars speeded up
the slope to the little bungalow, and they were quickly in the
midst of a joyous circle.
Polly and David, alighting from the third car, ran back to help
Miss Sterling and the others.
"Oh, Miss Nita! Wasn't the ride lovely?" Polly squeezed her
friend's arm. "Say, did you know, at the very last minute Miss
Sniffen sent over word that Mrs. Bonnyman couldn't go? She had the
toothache, and so mother came in her place! Oh, I did wish you
were in our car! I wanted to say, 'Isn't that beautiful?' and
'Just look at this!'"
"You could talk to David," laughed Miss Sterling.
"Oh, yes, I did some! But Mrs. Crump was jabbering to him most of
the time. Haven't you ever been out here before? Why, I thought
you had!--How d' y' do, Doodles!"
The three went up the steps hand in hand.
"Isn't that the loveliest, biggest moon you ever saw?" exclaimed
Polly.
While they lingered to look at it a car flashed up the road and
turned in at the entrance.
"Somebody going to the Flemings'," remarked Doodles carelessly.
"No, it's coming here!" returned Polly. The lights blazed toward
them.
They waited, and a man stepped out.
"Mr. Randolph!" breathed Polly, as he emerged from the shadows.
"I feel somewhat like an intruder," said the president, as he
grasped the hand of Doodles. "When Colonel Gresham invited me I
told him my coming was impossible. Then things cleared up a
little--and here I am!"
A visible stir succeeded Nelson Randolph's entrance. Mrs. Stickney
and Colonel Gresham welcomed him most cordially, and Polly, as
president of the Hiking Club, greeted him with a characteristic
little speech.
Presently the unexpected guest was moving easily among the others,
passing from group to group with hearty handshakes and happy words,
at last coming face to face with Juanita Sterling.
She had watched him nearing her corner, the while politely
attending to Miss Leatherland's intermittent chit-cnat and vainly
trying to banish from her mind the recent assertions of Miss Major.
With his first word, however, they fled, and she found herself
talking to the president unabashed and unafraid.
"I am glad to have the opportunity of telling you how much I
thought of those beautiful roses," she said; "I never saw handsomer
ones."
"It is good to know you enjoyed them. I hoped to have the pleasure
of taking you out to Adalina Park in the height of the rose
season." Was there an inquiry in the eyes that bent to hers?
She felt the flush sweep up her cheeks. "I should have been
delighted to go," she replied. Hurriedly she tried to think of
something to add to the brief sentence, but her mind was confused,
and the seconds slipped by.
"I was sorry it happened so," he went on; "but we will try it
again. Adalina Park is in its full glory now, and there are pretty
drives outside of the parks." He smiled whimsically.
Then came the question that put her in doubt whether she should
tell him the truth or not--"When should I be most likely to find
you disengaged?"
"Almost any time," she answered, having decided that she would
leave him to discover why she had not responded to his invitation.
"Work is never pressing at the Home."
"Isn't it?" A puzzled look flickered in his eyes--or was it only
her fancy?
A little flutter about the piano told that somebody was to play or
sing. David took the seat and began a prelude. Then he sang in a
clear, fresh voice:--
"Red as the wine of forgotten ages,
Yellow as gold of the sunbeams spun,
Pink as the gowns of Aurora's pages,
White as the robe of a sinless one,
Sweeter than Araby's winds that blow--
Roses, roses, I love ye so!"
"Who is that boy?" Nelson Randolph asked. "Some relation of
Colonel Gresham's, isn't he?"
"His grandnephew, David Collins."
"He has a fine voice."
"Excellent. Polly Dudley has a sweet voice, too. I hope she will
sing before the evening is over. And Doodles is wonderful! Have
you ever heard him?"
"No. He told me he was in the choir at St. Bartholomew's."
"There he comes! Oh, Polly is to play for him!"
A very sympathetic accompanist was Polly. Juanita Sterling
listened in surprise and wonder. How could such a child do so well!
"Young Davie was the brawest lad
In a' the Lairnie Glen,
An' Jennie was the bonniest lass
That e'er stole hearts o' men;
But Davie was a cotter's lad,
A lad o' low degree,
An' Jennie, bonnie, sonsie lass,
A highborn lass was she."
Applause burst upon the hush that hung on the last note. It was
insistent--it would not be denied. Doodles must sing again.
"He is a marvel!" Nelson Randolph spoke it softly, as the young
singer returned to the piano.
He gave the second verse of the song, which before he had omitted,
and then sang the dainty little love song,--
"Dusk, and the shadows falling
O'er land and sea;
Somewhere a voice is calling,
Calling for me!"
Yet even that did not satisfy his audience. So he returned once
more and gave in an irresistibly rollicking way a song in Yankee
dialect, the refrain to which,--
"Oh, my boy Jonathan is jest as good as gold!
An' he always fills the wood-box 'ithout bein' told!"--
tagging as it did the various topics of the old farmer's discourse
upon his son, never failed to bring laughter from his hearers.
At the end the applause was long and urgent; but Doodles had run
away, and would not come back.
Polly slipped up to Miss Sterling.
"Will you play for us now?--please, Miss Nita!" seeing a refusal in
the eyes that met her own.
"I am not in practice. I should hate to break down before all
these people," she smiled.
"There isn't one mite of danger!" Polly asserted confidently. "Do
come, Miss Nita! Mr. Randolph, I wish you'd coax her to come! She
can play magnificently!"
"Polly!"
"She can!" Polly addressed the president.
"I don't doubt it," Nelson Randolph declared, "and I should be
delighted to hear her."
"You wouldn't be delighted at all," Miss Sterling laughed. "You
would want to stop me long before I had finished one page. My
fingers would be lost in no time."
He dissented with courtliness, and Polly wheedled until Doodles and
Blue came to add their urging to hers; but in the end they had to
let Miss Sterling have her way, which was to remain outside of the
entertaining circle.
So Polly sang, "Such a li'l' fellow," and "Daisytown Gossip." Then
Mrs. Winslow Teed was beguiled into singing the old song of "The
Beggar Girl," and if her voice were a bit uncertain, on the whole
it was sweet and received well-earned applause.
Games interspersed the music, and it was discovered that the
president of June Holiday Home, as well as the eldest of the Home
residents, was quite as clever in guesses as the young folks.
Either by chance or intention,--Juanita Sterling could not decide
which,--Nelson Randolph appeared to have established himself for
the evening at her side. Others came and went, but the president
stayed.
"I wonder when we shall hear Caruso," she said. "He is on the
programme; I think they must be waiting until the moon is high."
"Caruso?" he repeated with a puzzled look. "Not--"
"No, not the great Caruso," she smiled; "the little Caruso."
"But what has the moon to do with his singing? I am in the dark."
She laughed out. "I don't wonder! I supposed you knew about
Caruso. He is a wonderful mocking-bird that belongs to Doodles.
He can--but wait! You will hear him soon, if I'm not mistaken."
Blue was at the window, gazing skyward. He raised the curtain
high, and the moonlight streamed in. A large cage was placed on a
table in the direct beams. Suddenly the lights were out.
A mellow fluting broke the hush,--and Caruso was in song!
Few of the guests had ever heard his like. He was a score of
performers in one. The notes of a dozen birds issued in quick
succession from that one little throat, clear, sweet, delicious.
Then, without warning, came the unmistakable squeal of a pig, the
squawking of hens, the yelp of a puppy, which in a moment merged
into a little carol, and then--Caruso was singing "Annie Laurie"!
The concert reached a sudden end, and the audience came to itself
in such applause as none of the other performers had won.
"Are there any more astonishments in store for me?" asked Nelson
Randolph, as the clapping dwindled to a few tardy hands. "When the
Colonel invited me to come up this evening I did not anticipate a
concert of this nature. He said they were to have 'a little music,'
but you know what that generally means."
"I know," nodded Miss Sterling smilingly. "I wonder, after such an
admission, that you were willing to risk it."
"Oh, I didn't come for the music!" he returned. "Nevertheless, it
is worth going more than twenty miles to hear. Polly and Doodles
and David would make a good concert by themselves--and now the
mocldng-bird! I never heard anything equal to his performance! He
is a wonder!"
"He can whistle 'Auld Lang Syne,' too, I think he does it quite as
well as 'Annie Laurie.'"
The applause had started again, and the lights, which had been
turned on, went out. The audience quieted at once.
Soft and sweet came the tones of a violin.
"Doodles," breathed Miss Sterling.
Nelson Randolph bent his head to hear, and nodded in answer.
Softly the player slipped into "Old Folks at Home," and the tune
went on slowly, lingeringly, as if waiting for something that did
not come. Again it was played, this time with the voice of Doodles
accompanying.
Meanwhile Polly was tiptoeing noiselessly from group to group and
from guest to guest, with the soft-breathed word, "No applause,
please!"
Over and over sounded the sweet, haunting melody, until not a few
of those unfamiliar with the methods of the patient teacher and his
singular little pupil, wondered, with Miss Crilly, "what in the
world was up."
Then, just as almost everybody's nerves were growing tense, Caruso
took up the air and carried it on bewitchingly to its close.
"How can he do it!"--"Wasn't that perfectly beautiful!"--"Did you
teach it to him, Doodles?"--"My! but he's a jimdandy, and no
mistake!" These and a score of others were tossed about as the
lights went up.
"I must have a nearer view of that singer," declared Nelson
Randolph. "I'm sure he can't look like an ordinary mocker; he must
show the marks of genius in his feathers!"
Miss Sterling laughed. "He is certainly surprising. Doodles told
me he was trying to teach him a new song, but I was not prepared
for anything like this."
"Who could be!--Come!" he invited. "Let's go over and see him!"
Juanita Sterling unavoidably brushed Miss Crilly on the way across,
and smiled pleasantly, to which that middle-aged merrymaker
responded with a whispered, "Ain't you swell, a-goin' with the
president all the evening!"
Miss Sterling flung back a laughing shake of the head, and passed
on.
Nelson Randolph scanned the slim gray bird in silence. Then he
turned to his companion.
"It doesn't seem possible that this little fellow could do all
that!"
Doodles smiled across the cage. He was giving Caruso the tidbit
which he had well earned.
"How long does it take you to teach him a song?"
"I've only taught him one, Mr. Randolph. He was several months
learning that. He knew 'Annie Laurie' when he came, and Mr.
Gillespie taught him 'Auld Lang Syne.'"
"The bird had finished his little feast and stood nonchalantly
preening his feathers.
"Caruso!"
The mocker lifted his head and gave a short whistle. Then he went
on with his interrupted toilet.
Nelson Randolph laughed softly.
"Caruso!" began Doodles again. "Caruso!"
The bird looked up and whistled as before.
Doodles bent closer. "Can't you sing 'Auld Lang Syne' for Mr.
Randolph? He has never heard it, you know."
The mocker stretched a wing and let go a mellow strain.
Softly Doodles began to sing,--
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?"
The bird had stood listening, and now caught tip the air with
vigor, carrying it on with a surety that was as astonishing as it
was delightful.
Nelson Randolph shook his head in admiration. "Marvelous!" he
cried; "marvelous!" He put his hand in his pocket--"I wish you
liked pennies!" he laughed.
"His pennies are meal worms," said Doodles with a grimace. "I'll
get him one."
"Ugh! How can he?" laughed Miss Crilly, as the bird disposed of the
dainty.
His reward seemed to incite him to further song, for straightway he
launched into a gay little medley that set his hearers laughing and
admiring at once.
"The birthday supper is ready!" announced Blue informally from the
door of the dining-room.
Doodles ran quickly to Miss Lily's side and they took place at the
head of the little procession.
Colonel Gresham and Mrs. Adlerfeld came next.
"Oh, I'm so glad!" thought Juanita Sterling, catching a sight of
the little Swedish woman's happy face.
The company speedily divided itself into two's, and Miss Sterling,
with a bit of a heart flutter, found herself walking beside the
president of June Holiday Home. Just ahead were Patricia and
David. Where was Polly? She and David were always
together--everywhere. But now she and Leonora were side by side.
Strange!--but wonderings were lost in the pleasant calls of the
occasion.
In the smallish dining-room a long table gave seats to everybody,
and no one was crowded.
Nothing elaborate had been attempted, all was simple and homelike.
Except for the curious decoration above the seat of honor, and the
birthday cake with its pink and white frosting, there was little to
distinguish it from an every-day repast.
Talk and appetite went merrily hand in hand, and the "birthday
girl," as Polly and Doodles insisted on calling her, grew actually
gay.
"When she had cut the cake, and everybody's plate was empty,
Doodles asked her to pull a pink ribbon hanging from the
umbrella-like contrivance over her head.
"With a half-frightened face and fingers that trembled, she plucked
at the dainty string. Nothing happened.
"Pull harder!" urged Doodles.
She made another attempt--and gave a little cry, for tumbling about
her came birthday gifts in wild array.
Into her lap plumped an embroidered pin-cushion, on one shoulder
drooped a muslin and lace apron, over her head was draped a white
silk waist, while all around, on floor and table, were other
articles, besides packages of various sizes tied with pink and
white ribbons. In the laughter and confusion, presents too bulky
or too frail to be risked in a fall were placed near her,--a long
box of pink roses, a tall vase of cut-glass, a big, big box of
candy, a pretty bon-bon dish, a small fern, and a little begonia
with lovely pink blossoms.
To be thus suddenly surprised, and at the same time to be made the
attractive point of so many eyes, was more than Faith Lily's
composure could bear. Her lip quivered like a little child's, her
blue eyes filled with tears and over-flowed--she began softly to
sob.
Doodles looked distressed. Then he did the best thing possible.
He took up the pincushion. "Mrs. Dudley made you this," he said,
"and this is from Leonora,"--he held the apron for her to see.
"Isn't it pretty? Turn round a bit and I'll tie it on!"
The crying ceased, and the tension had passed. Miss Lily smiled
down on the apron with happy eyes.
"Here is a handkerchief that Polly embroidered for you," Doodles
went on, "and this box of chocolates is from Mr. Randolph. Colonel
Gresham gave you the roses--just smell them!" He lifted the box to
her face.
"Oh!" breathed Miss Lily in delight.
"The china dish is David's present, and these cards are from Mrs.
Albright and Mrs. Bonnyman and Miss Crilly. This beautiful
waist--that's from Patricia, and the box of handkerchiefs from her
mother, and the booklet from Miss Castlevaine, and the photograph
from Miss Major. Oh! the vase is from the 'Hiking Club,'--and I
don't know about the packages."
Miss Lily beamed on her riches, upon Doodles, upon the whole
tableful.
"Why," she exclaimed softly, "I don't see how you came to do it! I
never thought of having a single present! Oh, it's beautiful of
you!" Her voice trembled. "I can't thank you half enough, but I
shall love you, every one, as long as I live!"
Doodles was picking up the small parcels scattered on the floor.
"Will you have these now?" he nodded.
"Oh, yes!" she said, eagerly as a child.
Everybody seemed interested in the unwrapping. They were simple
gifts, but Miss Lily fingered them lovingly, even to the plainest
little card.
The telephone called Blue into the next room. He returned almost
at once.
"Mr. Randolph," he said, "some one wishes to talk with you."
They were rising from the table as the president came back.
"I am sorry to say good-bye so early," he told them; "but a New
York man is waiting to see me on important business and has to
return home on the 11.45 train. So I must get down to him as soon
as possible."
He came over to Juanita Sterling with a little rueful smile.
"I hoped to have the pleasure of taking you home, but--" He shook
his head. "We'll make up for it in a day or two," he finished
blithely.
Her eyes met his. Something she saw there sent a warm flush to her
cheeks, and she looked away.
"You will hear from me soon." He held out his hand. "Thank you
for giving me so much enjoyment this evening--good-night."
That was all. Simple courtesy, Juanita Sterling told herself two
hours later; but now--her heart was filled with a quivering joy
that was almost pain.
On the homeward ride she found herself seated next to Miss Major,
with Miss Castlevaine just beyond.
"We seem to be shifted round," Miss Castlevaine observed. "I came
up in the second car, Dr. Dudley's; but Mrs. Winslow Teed has my
seat--I was in front with the chauffeur. So I took the first
vacant place I saw."
"She rode up with us."
"Then it is all right. I see David Collins has got Patricia
Illingworth in tow--he came with Polly. I wonder if they've had a
quarrel."
"I never knew them to quarrel," said Juanita Sterling.
"Oh, don't they? Well, it looks like it now. He took Patricia out
to supper, too."
"So he did," responded Miss Major. "I didn't think of it in that
light. We've had a nice evening, anyway. It seems good to get out
of the rut."
"Yes," answered Miss Castlevaine grudgingly; "but they'll have to
keep this up, now they've begun, or there'll be more fusses than a
few!"
"What do you mean?"
"Why, everybody'll have to have a birthday party, or the rest'll be
jealous."
"Oh, yes, I see! But they couldn't do it for all."
"Then there'll be trouble! And I don't know as I should blame them
any. Why should one of the family have all the good times and
loads of presents, and nobody else have anything--huh!"
"It hasn't established a precedent by any means," asserted Miss
Major.
"Indeed, it has! And they ought to have thought of that before
they began."
"I doubt if any such thing ever occurred to Polly and Doodles,"
interposed Miss Sterling. "They were thinking only of giving Miss
Lily a pleasant birthday. I am glad she had so many presents."
"Well, Mr. Randolph meant she should have enough candy for once,
didn't he? A five-pound box certainly! If she eats it all
herself, it'll make her sick! I don't suppose she ever had so much
at one time before, and she won't use any judgment about it. It
would have been in a good deal better taste to have given her a
simple pound box."
"Oh, no!" laughed Miss Major. "I'd rather have a five-pound box any
time! And so would you!"
"I suppose he's used to that size," retorted Miss Castlevaine. "He
probably gives 'em to his girl by the cartload--huh!"
"Who is she?" queried Miss Major.
"Why, that Puddicombe girl! He is engaged to Blanche
Puddicombe--didn't you know it?"
"No, I hadn't heard."
"Well, he is! They say the wedding isn't coming off till next
spring. I guess he's bound to have all he can get out of his
freedom till then--he won't have much after he's tied to that
silly-pate!"
"She looks it all right! Her mother isn't any too smart."
"No, and the Puddicombe side is worse. We used to think that Si
Puddicombe knew less than nothing! And Le Grand Puddicombe--"
Juanita Sterling edged a little closer into the seat corner. She
had no interest in Le Grand Puddicombe. She stared into the night.
A raw wind struck her face. Thick clouds had suddenly shut out the
moon, and a chill over-spread the earth. All was dark, dark,
except for the flashing lines ahead. The steady pur-r-r-r-r-ing of
the car was in the air. Miss Castlevaine's monotonous voice ran on
and on; but, the little woman at the end of the seat realized
nothing except the insistent words knelling through her
brain,--"Engaged to Blanche Puddicombe! Engaged to Blanche
Puddicombe!"
It was not until she was in her room, with the door safely locked,
that she commanded herself sufficiently to answer the clanging
voice.
"I don't believe it! I don't believe it!" she burst out. "It's a
lie!--a miserable, sneaking lie!"
"Engaged to Blanche Puddicombe! Engaged to Blanche Puddicombe!" was
the mocking retort.
She dropped on her knees by the bedside and covered her face with
her hands.
"Oh, God," she whispered, "forgive me for being a fool!"