THE BOX OF BON-BONS.
It occurred to Stephanotie that, as she could not wear the rose-colored
dress, as she must go perforce to the Hartricks' in her dove-colored
cashmere, with its very neat velvet collar and cuffs, she would at least
make her entrance a little striking.
“Why not take a box of bon-bons to Mrs. Hartrick?” she said to herself.
“There's that great big new box which I have not opened yet It contains
dozens of every kind of sweetmeat. I'll present it to her; she'll be
pleased with the attention.”
The box was a very large one; on its lid was painted a picture of two or
three cupids hovering in the air, some of them touching the shoulders of
a pretty girl who was supposed to be opening a box of chocolates. There
was a good deal of color and embossed writing also on the cover, and
altogether it was as showy and, in Stephanotie's opinion, as handsome a
thing as anybody could desire.
She walked through the village, holding the box, tied with great bunches
of red ribbon, in her hand. She scorned to put a brown-paper cover
over it; she would take it in all its naked glory into the midst of the
Hartrick household.
On her way she met the other two girls who were also going to spend an
afternoon at The Laurels. Rose and Mabel Armitage were the daughters of
a neighbouring squire. They were nice girls, but conventional.
There was nothing original about either of them; but they were very
much respected in the school, not only on account of their father's
position--he represented the county in the House--but also because they
were good, industrious, and so-called clever. The Armitages took prizes
at every examination. Their French was considered very nearly Parisian
in accent; their drawings were all in absolutely perfect proportions.
It is true the trees in Rose's landscapes looked a little stiff; but how
carefully she laid on her water-colors; how honestly she endeavored to
copy her master's smallest requirements! Then Mabel played with great
correctness, never for a single moment allowing a wrong note to appear;
and they both sang, very prettily, simple little ballads; and they were
dressed with exquisite neatness and propriety in very quiet colors--dark
blues, very dark reds, pretty, neat blouses, suitable skirts. Their hair
was shiny, and sat in little tight tendrils and pretty curls round their
heads. They were as like as two peas--each girl had a prim little mouth
with rosy lips; each girl possessed an immaculate set of white teeth;
each girl had a little, straight nose and pretty, clear gray-blue eyes;
their foreheads were low, their eyebrows penciled and delicately marked.
They had neat little figures; they were neat in every way, neat in soul
too; admirable little people, but commonplace. And, just because they
were commonplace, they did not like fiery-red-haired Stephanotie; they
thought Molly the essence of vulgarity; they secretly admired beautiful
Nora, but thought her manners and style of conversation deplorable; and
they adored Linda as a kindred spirit.
Seeing them walking on in advance, like a little pair of doves,
Stephanotie quickened her steps until she came up to them.
“Hallo!” she said; “you guess where I'm off to?”
“I am sure I cannot say,” answered Rose, turning gently round.
Mabel was always Rose's echo.
“I cannot say,” she repeated.
“Well, I can guess where you're going. You're going to have a right down
good time at The Laurels--guess I'm right?”
“We are going to spend an afternoon at The Laurels,” said Rose.
“An afternoon at The Laurels,” echoed Mabel.
“And so am I--that's the best of the fun,” said Stephanotie; “and I mean
to give her something to remember me by.”
“Whom do you mean?” said Rose.
“Why, my good, respected hostess, Mrs. Hartrick.”
“What do you mean to give her?” asked Rose.
“This. How do you like it? It's full of bon-bons.”
Rose, notwithstanding her virtuous and commonplace mind, had a secret
leaning toward bon-bons. She did not dare to confess it even to Mabel;
for Mabel also had a secret leaning, and did not dare to confess it to
Rose. It was not _comme il faut_ in their family for the girls of the
house to indulge in bon-bons; but still, they would have liked some of
those delicious sweets, and had often envied Stephanotie when she was
showing them to her companions.
Of course, not for worlds would they have been friendly with the
terrible American girl; but they did envy her her boxes of sweets.
“How gay!” said Rose, looking at the startling cover, with its cupids
and its greedy-looking maiden.
“How jolly,” said the American girl--“how luscious when you're eating
them! Would you like to see them inside?”
“Oh, I think not,” said Rose.
“Better not,” said Mabel.
“But why better not?” continued Stephanotie. “It's natural that girls
like us should like sweetmeats, bon-bons, or anything of that sort.
Here, there's a nice little bit of shelter under this tree, and there's
no one looking. I'll untie the ribbons; just hold the box, Rose.”
Rose held it. Stephanotie hastily pulled off the red ribbons and lifted
the cover. Oh, how delicious the inside did look!--rows upon rows of
every imaginable sweet--cream-colored sweets, rose-colored, green,
white; plums, apples, pears, figs, chocolates; every sort that the heart
of girl could desire lay before them in rows on rows.
“They are, every one of them, for Mrs. Hartrick,” said Stephanotie, “and
you mustn't touch them. But I have got two boxes in my pocket; they make
it bulge out; I should be glad to get rid of them. We'll tie this up,
but you'll each have one of my boxes.”
In a jiffy the big box was tied up again with its huge crimson bows, and
each of the Armitage girls possessed one of the American girl's boxes of
bon-bons.
“Aren't they pretty? Do have some; you don't know how long you may be
kept waiting for your tea,” said Stephanotie as she danced beside her
companions up the avenue.
In this fashion, therefore, did the three enter the house, for both
of the Armitages had yielded to temptation, and each girl was just
finishing a large bon-bon when they appeared on the scene.
Mrs. Hartrick was standing in the great square central hall, waiting for
her guests.
Stephanotie ran up to her.
“It's very good of you indeed to ask me,” she said; “and please accept
this--won't you? It's from an American girl, a trophy to remember her
by.”
“Indeed?” said Mrs. Hartrick, flushing very brightly. She stepped back a
little; the huge box of bon-bons was forced into her hands.
“Jehoshaphat!” exclaimed Molly.
“Molly!” said her mother.
Linda uttered a little sigh. Rose and Mabel immediately became as
discreet and commonplace and proper as they could be; but Stephanotie
knew that the boxes of bon-bons were reposing in each of their pockets
and her spirits rose higher than ever.
“Where is Irish Nora?” she said. “It's she that is fond of a good sweet
such as they make for us in the States. But have the box--won't you,
Mrs. Hartrick? I have brought it to you as a token of my regard.”
“Indeed? Thank you very much, Miss Miller,” said Mrs. Hartrick in a
chilly voice. She laid the box on a side-table.