THREE GIRLS
Gwynette, dressed in a corn-yellow linen with tailored lines and wearing
a very becoming sport hat of the same material and color, trimmed with
old blue and orange, sauntered out to the cliff. She had intended to
remain there on a rustic bench to watch the boys sail to and fro, hoping,
though scarcely believing, that they would eventually land at the small
pier at their boathouse. Another thought prompted: “They are far more apt
to land nearer the Point of Rocks. Charles will want to be with his
sister, and Harold cares much more for that—that——” She hesitated, for
even in her thought she did not like to connect her brother’s name with
the granddaughter of her mother’s servants.
Rising, and without definite decision to do so, she sauntered along the
cliff in the direction of the rocky point. She saw the two girls seated
on the highest rock, and just at that moment they were waving seaward,
and so Gwyn decided that the sailboat must be nearing the shore. A
low-growing old pine hid the water from her view. When she had passed it,
she glanced quickly out at the gleaming, dancing waves, and there,
turning for a tack, was the boat she sought. Charles, at the rudder, saw
her at once and waved his hat. She flushed. He would know that she was
going over to the point to be with the other girls. Half angry with
herself, when she realized that she was doing it merely to please him,
and not in the least because it was her own desire, she actually paused,
determining to turn back, but before she had done so, Jenny, having
glanced around, saw her, and so it was too late to retreat even if she
had really wished to do so. Remembering her promise to Harold, Jenny
called in her most friendly manner, “Oh, Miss Poindexter-Jones, won’t you
come over on the Reviewing Rocks, as Harold calls them? We have a
wonderful view of the boat from here.”
Gwynette went, and if her smile was faint, it was at least a smile, and
Jenny felt encouraged. She gave up her own position. “Do sit here,” she
said, “this seat is really as comfortable as a rock can be. I would offer
to go to the house for a cushion, but Lenora has the only two that we own
and she needs them both.”
“Indeed, I do not.” The seated girl protested, and she was about to draw
out the one against which she was leaning, but Gwyn had the good grace to
at once declare that her gown washed nicely and she did not in the least
mind sitting on the rocks. Then they turned to watch the antics of the
sailboat.
“Charles is in his element now.” It was evident from her tone that Lenora
was very proud of her brother. “When we were at Tahoe the daughters of
the wealthy cottagers and guests at Tahoe Inn were always eager to have
him accompany them, not only sailing but everywhere.” With a little laugh
she concluded, “As you may guess, I have a very popular brother.” Then,
more seriously, as she recalled why they had been at the lake, far-famed
for its beauty: “But Charles refused nearly all invitations that he might
remain with our dear mother, who was frail. In fact, the only ones he
accepted were those that Mother and I insisted that he should not refuse.
But, oftenest of all, Charles would take me with him for a sunrise sail
before Mother would need us, and I shall never, never forget the beauty
of the awakening day on that mountain-circled lake.” All this was told to
Jenny, who had seated herself on another rock a little apart from the
others.
Gwyn found herself thinking it strange that ranchers from Dakota should
have the entree to Tahoe Inn, which she knew to be exclusive. Then she
had to confess that she, herself, had always associated with only the
first families, and yet she now was seated on the rocks with two girls
far beneath her socially. She flushed as she had to acknowledge that she
was there just to please Charles Gale. He probably had attracted the
girls who had been at Tahoe Inn as he did her. Her lips, though she did
not know it, were taking on the customary scornful lines, when Jenny
stood up.
“They’re coming in close this time. Harold wants to tell us something.
Everyone listen hard.”
The lad, making a trumpet of his hands, was shouting: “We’ll land next
tack. Have some lemonade for us, will you?”
The standing girl nodded her head: then, holding out a hand to Lenora,
said: “That command shall be obeyed.”
More formally, though in a tone of friendliness, Jenny turned to the
other girl: “You will go with us, will you not, Miss Poindexter-Jones?
I’ll gather some fresh lemons and——” her face brightened as she added:
“Let’s set the rustic table out under the trees near the hammock, and
serve some of those little cakes Grandma made this morning, and we might
even have strawberries. I gathered many more than we’ll need for the
shortcake for dinner.”
“Oh! That will be jolly fun!” Jenny’s enthusiasm was contagious as far as
Lenora was concerned, and so all three girls walked toward the house, two
of them eagerly, but one reluctantly. Why didn’t she have the courage to
say that she must go to her own home? What excuse could she give that
would be the truth, for, strangely enough, Gwynette scorned falsehood.
She had been angry with herself ever since she had made the excuse of the
dress, knowing that it had not been true. Though they did not know it,
that high sense of honesty these two girls had inherited from their
missionary father.
While she was struggling with her desire to be one of the party when
Charles should have landed, and her disinclination at being with girls
far beneath her socially, Jenny, who was a little in the lead, turned and
smilingly addressed her:
“Miss Poindexter-Jones, what would you prefer doing—hulling strawberries,
making the lemonade or setting the table under the trees?”
Lenora, who was bringing up the rear of the little procession, smiled to
herself. Jenny surely was daring, for, as they both well knew, Gwynette
would not _prefer_ to do anything at all. Surely she would now find some
excuse for hasty retreat. She might go home and read to her mother if she
had awakened. This Gwyn decided to tell them, but when she did hear her
own voice it was saying: “If I may choose, I prefer to set the table.”
“Good!” Jenny turned to Lenora: “Dearie, shall you mind staining your
fingers rosy red?”
“Strawberry red, you mean, don’t you?” Lenora dropped down on the top
step of the front porch, adding with an upward smile: “Sister Jenny,
bring the fruit and I will hull with pleasure.”
“All right-o.” Then to the other girl, who stood stiffly erect, Jenny
said very sweetly: “If you will come with me, I’ll show you where
Grandmother Sue keeps her best china. I know that she will let us use it
for this gala occasion.” Then pointing: “See over there, by the hammock,
is the little rustic table. There are five of us. I’ll bring out five
chairs.”
“Don’t!” Lenora put in. “I’d far rather luxuriate in the hammock. Anyway,
four chairs even up the table better.”
Gwyn removed her hat, and followed Jenny toward the kitchen, where in an
old-fashioned china closet there were some very pretty dishes. The ware
was thin and the fern pattern was attractive, and suitable for an
out-of-door tea party.
For the next fifteen minutes these three girls were busy, and to
Gwynette’s surprise she was actually enjoying her share of the
preparations. After setting the table with a lunch cloth and the pretty
dishes, she gathered a cluster of pink wild roses for the center.
“I love those single roses!” Jenny exclaimed when she brought out a large
glass pitcher of lemonade on which were floating strips of peel. “They
are so simple and—well—just what they really are, not pretending
anything.”
Lenora appeared with a glass dish heaped with luscious strawberries.
Their hostess was surely in an appreciative mood. “O-o-h! Don’t they look
simply luscious under all that powdered sugar? Those sailors don’t know
the treat that’s in store for them.”
“And for us!” It was Gwyn’s first impulsive remark. “I didn’t know that I
was hungry, but I feel now as though I were famished.”
“So are we!” A hearty voice behind caused them all to turn, and there
were the two boys who had stolen up quietly on purpose to surprise the
girls. “We landed at the cabin, so we are all washed up and ready for the
‘eats’.”
And it truly was a feast of merriment. Gwyn was surprised to find herself
laughing with the others.
Lenora, half reclining in the hammock, was more an observer than a
partaker of the active merriment. From her position she could see the
profiles of the two girls at the table. They were both dressed in yellow,
for Jenny had on her favorite muslin. The shade was somewhat different
from Gwyn’s corn-colored linen, but the effect was startlingly similar.
They had both removed their hats and their hair was exactly the same soft
waving light brown, with gold glints in it. Indeed, it might have been
hair on one head. Charles and Harold, of course, had also noted this at
an earlier period, but it was Lenora’s first opportunity to study the two
girls. What _could_ it mean? _It_ was too decided a likeness to be merely
a coincident. She determined to ask Charles.
That lad was devoting his time and thought to drawing Gwyn out of the
formal stiffness which had been evident when the little party started.
This he did, for Gwyn had had years of practice at clever repartee, and
so also had Charles, for, as she knew, he had associated with the
daughters of cultured families and also, of course, with the sons.
Jenny and Harold, seated opposite each other, now and then exchanged
glances that ranged from amusement to gratification. They were both
decidedly pleased that the difficult guest was being entertained.
When at last the strawberries, cakes and lemonade had disappeared, Harold
sprang up, announcing that, since the young ladies had prepared the
party, the young gentlemen would do the doing that was to follow. Charles
instantly began to pile dishes high, saying in a gay tone, directly to
Gwyn, “I suppose you hadn’t heard that I am ‘hasher’ now and then at our
frat ‘feeds’.”
The girl shuddered. “No, I had not.” Her reply was so cold and her manner
again so formal that Lenora put in rebukingly: “Charles, why do you say
that? Of course I think it is splendid of boys who have to work their way
through college to do anything at all that they can, but father insisted
that you pay your way, that you might have your entire time for
studying.”
“I know, Sis, dear, but it’s the truth, nevertheless, that we all take
turns helping out when there is need of it, and so I have learned the
knack and I’m glad to have it. One can’t learn too many things in this
old world of ours.”
Gwyn rose, saying not without a hint of her old disdainful hauteur, “I am
going now. Mother may be awake and wishing me to read to her.”
“That’s right, she may,” Harold put in. “Otherwise I would remind you
that it is not mannerly to eat and run.”
His sister flushed, and Charles, suspecting that an angry reply was on
the tip of her tongue, hurried to suggest: “Miss Gwyn, if you will wait
until I have finished helping clear up, I’ll sail you home, with Harold’s
permission. We left the boat at the cabin dock.”
“Suppose you go at once,” the other lad remarked, “I’d a whole lot rather
have Jenny wipe the dishes while I wash them.”
“Good! Then I can take a nap in this comfy hammock,” Lenora put in. “This
is the most dissipating I’ve done since I was first taken ill.”
Charles was at once solicitous and Jenny half rebukeful. “Oh, Lenora. I
do hope you aren’t overtired,” they both said in different ways.
Lenora curled down among the pillows that she always had with her.
“Indeed not! I’ll be well enough to travel home one week from today,” she
assured her brother. “Now do go, everybody, and let me sleep.” And so,
after bidding good-bye to Jenny and Lenora in a far more friendly manner
than her wont, Gwyn, her heart again singing a joyous song she could not
understand, walked along the cliff trail, a young giant at her side.
“He’s only the son of a Dakota rancher,” a thought tried to whisper to
Gwyn. “What care I?” was her retort as she flashed a smile of good
comradeship up at the young man, who, she found, was watching her with
unmistakable admiration in his eyes.
“It’s good to be alive this beautiful day, isn’t it?” was all that he
said.
When Charles returned to the farm, he found Lenora still in the hammock
awakening from a most refreshing nap. She held out a hand and took it
lovingly as he sat on one of the chairs that had been about the rustic
table. Lenora spoke in a low voice. “Jenny isn’t near, is she, brother?”
she inquired.
“Nowhere in sight Why? Shall I call her?”
The girl shook her head. “I wanted to ask you a question and I didn’t
wish her to hear.” Charles was puzzled; then troubled to know how to
answer when he heard Lenora’s question: “Have you noticed the close
resemblance between Jenny and Harold’s sister? They might almost be twins
if Gwynette were not two years the older. I think it is simply amazing.
Their profiles are startlingly similar.”
“Yes, I think I noticed the resemblance at once.” Charles was glad to be
able to add, “Here comes Harold!” Excusing himself, he ran lightly across
the grass to meet his friend. In a low voice he explained that his sister
had discovered the resemblance and was amazed at it. His listener said:
“Suppose we let her into the secret. Perhaps she can help us to induce
Gwyn and Jenny at least to like each other.” Harold was sure that his
mother would not mind, as she had said she would trust everything to his
judgment. “I will carry the chairs in. That will leave you alone to
explain as you think best,” he concluded after a merry greeting to the
girl in the hammock. Harold took three of the chairs and went back to the
kitchen. Charles sat again in the fourth chair and took his sister’s
hand. “Dear girl,” he said, “I have received permission from Harold to
share with you a secret which is of a very serious nature.” Lenora
glanced up puzzled and interested.
Then, very simply, Charles told the whole story. The girl’s first comment
was, “Poor Gwyn! She has had a most unfortunate bringing up, and, if she
were now to learn the truth, it would crush her. She might run away and
do something desperate.”
“That is just what Harold fears, and so he has asked his mother to permit
him to have two weeks to think over what would be best to do. He feels
encouraged for Gwynette has twice been over here quite of her own free
will.”
But Lenora shook her head. “There is nothing really encouraging about
that, for she did not come to be with Jenny. She came because she likes
you.”
Charles smiled and surprised Lenora by replying, “And I like Gwynette.
She’s nicer, really, than she knows.” Again there was an interruption.
This time both Jenny and Harold appeared. “It’s time to milk the cow,”
the younger lad announced with the broadest smile. “Charles, it’s your
turn tonight.”
“You are both too late,” Jenny told them, “for Grandpa Si took the pail
out of the milkroom ten minutes ago and by this time it is brimming, I am
sure.”
Charles rose. “Well, I’m rather glad, as I wish to take a swim before
arraying myself for the ball.” Noting his sister’s questioning
expression, he informed her that Gwynette and he were going to a dance at
the Yacht Club House that night. “Why don’t you go with them, Harold?” It
was Jenny inquiring. “I have often heard you say that you like to dance.”
“So I do. If you and Lenora will accompany me, I’ll go only too gladly.”
Lenora shook her head. “I’ll be asleep before it would be time to start,”
she said. “Why don’t you go with him, Jenny?”
That pretty maid’s laughter was amused and merry. “Would I wear my yellow
muslin or my white with the pink sprig? Lenora Gale, you know that I
haven’t a party dress, nor do I know how to dance.”
Harold put in: “We’ll not go tonight, but if Grandma Sue has no religious
scruples, I’ll come over after dinner and give you a first lesson in
modern dancing.” Then the two boys went cabin-ward for their afternoon
swim.