A BIRTHDAY CAKE
Miss Dearborn had returned to Hillcrest, and with her were a small girl
and boy, the children of her dear college friend, who, with her baby, had
been taken from this world. Jenny, with Lenora, had gone that afternoon
to see her and had learned that Miss Dearborn was to make a home for the
little ones for a year, during which time their father was to tour the
world, then he would return and make a home for them himself. Neither
Miss Dearborn nor Jenny spoke their thoughts, but oh, _how_ the girl
hoped that there would then be a happy ending to Miss Dearborn’s long
years of sacrifice. If the young woman were thinking of this, her next
remark did not suggest it. “Jenny, dear, we will have three classes in
our little school next year to suit the ages of my three pupils.”
Then it was that Lenora said impulsively, “How I do wish, Miss Dearborn,
that you could take still another pupil. My father and brother think best
to have me spend the winter in California. Our Dakota storms are so
severe. I am to live with the Warners just as I have been doing this past
two months.” Miss Dearborn’s reply was enthusiastic and sincere:
“Splendid! That will make our little school complete. I know how Jenny
will enjoy your companionship. She has often told me that if she had had
the choosing of a sister, she would have been just like you.”
Lenora glanced quickly at the speaker, wondering if Miss Dearborn _knew_
who Jenny’s _real_ sister was, but just then the little Austin girl ran
to her “auntie” with a doll’s sash to be tied, and the subject was
changed.
On that ride home behind Dobbin, Lenora wondered if Jenny would ever
learn that Gwyn was her real sister. Charles had confided in her, and so
she knew that in the autumn Gwynette would be _her_ sister by marriage
and that would draw Jenny and Lenora closer than ever. How she wished
that she could tell Jenny everything she knew, but she had promised that
she would not. When the girls returned home they found Susan Warner much
excited about something. Gwynette had been over to call, _actually_ to
call, and she had remained on the side porch visiting with Grandma Sue
even when she had learned that Jenny and Lenora had driven to Miss
Dearborn’s.
“More’n that, she left an invite for _all_ of us to come to a party Mrs.
Poindexter-Jones is givin’ on Charles’ birthday. Gwyn said she hoped I’d
make the chocolate cake with twenty-one layers like Harold wanted, just
the same, but we’d have the party over to the big house.”
Jenny, at first, looked disappointed. Then her expression changed to one
of delight. Clasping her hands, she cried, “Oh, Grandma Sue, _that_ will
be a _real_ party, won’t it, and I can wear the beautiful new dress
Lenora has given me. I was afraid I never, _never_ would have a chance to
wear it.”
The old woman nodded. Then she confided: “Thar’s some queer change has
come over Gwynette Poindexter-Jones, and I’ll say this much for her,
she’s a whole sight nicer’n she _was_, for it, whatever ’tis. I reckon
her ma’s glad. I cal’late, on the whole, she’s been sort o’ disappointed
in her.”
Then Jenny astonished them by saying: “Gwyn is a beautiful girl. No one
knows how I want her to love me.” Susan Warner looked up almost
suspiciously from the peas that she was shelling. That was a queer thing
for Jenny to say, and even after the girls had gone indoors, that Lenora
might rest, Susan Warner thought over and over again, now of the yearning
tone in which Jenny had spoken, and then of the words, “No one knows how
I _want_ her to love me.” _What_ could it mean? There wasn’t any possible
way for Jenny to know that she and Gwyn were sisters. Tears sprang to
Susan’s eyes unbidden. “If she ever learns that, she’ll have to know Si
and me ain’t her grandparents.” Then the old woman rebuked her
selfishness. “I reckon Si was right when he said ’twouldn’t make a mite
o’ difference in Jenny’s carin’ for us. Si said _nothing_ could.” But her
hands shook when, a few moments later, she dumped the shelled peas into
the pot of bubbling water that was waiting to receive them. Taking up one
corner of her apron, she wiped her eyes. Jenny had entered the kitchen.
At once her strong young arms were about the old woman, and there was
sweet assurance in her words: “Grandma Sue, I love you.” Then, after
pressing her fresh young cheek for a long, silent moment against the one
that was softly wrinkled, the girl held the old woman at arm’s length as
she joyfully cried, “Oh, Grandma Sue, isn’t it wonderful, _wonderful_,
that you and Grandpa Si and Lenora and I are going to a real party, the
very first one that I have ever attended?”
But the old woman protested. “Now, dearie, Grandpa Si an’ me ain’t
plannin’ to go along of you young folks. ’Twouldn’t be right, no ways you
look at it, us bein’ hired by Mrs. Poindexter-Jones.”
The brightness faded from Jenny’s flower-like face. She stepped back and
shook a warning finger at her companion. Her tone expressed finality.
“Very well, Mrs. Susan Warner, then we might as well take the party gown
back to the shop it came from, for, if you and Granddad aren’t good
enough to attend Gwynette’s party, neither am I. So the matter is
settled.”
“What’s the argifyin’?” a genial voice inquired from the open door, and
there, coming in with a brimming pail of milk, was Grandpa Si.
Jenny turned and flung at him her ultimatum. The old man pushed his straw
hat back on his head and his leathery face wrinkled in a smile. “Ma,” he
said, addressing his wife, “I reckon I’d be on your side if ’twan’t that
I give my word of honor to Harry and Charles, and now it’s give, I’ll not
go back on it. They said ’twouldn’t be no party to them if you’n me
weren’t at it. An’ what’s more, Mrs. Poindexter-Jones sent Harry over
special to give us a bid.”
Jenny nodded her golden brown head emphatically. “There, now, that’s
settled. Oh, good, here’s Lenora, looking fresh as a daisy from her long
nap.” Then, beaming at the pretty newcomer, she exclaimed, “Come this
way, Miss Gale, if you want to see Grandma’s masterpiece.”
“Tut, tut, Jenny-gal; ’twan’t me that prettied it up,” the old woman
protested. Jenny threw open a pantry door, and there, on a wide shelf,
stood a mountain of a chocolate cake. “Honestly, there are twenty-one
layers. They’re thin, to be sure, but light as feathers, for I ate up the
sample. And the chocolate filling is just foamy with whipped cream.”
“How beautiful it is.” There were tears in Lenora’s eyes, as she added
wistfully: “How I wish our dear mother could see the cake you have made
for her son’s twenty-first birthday.”
Then, going closer, she added, admiringly, “Why, Jenny, however did you
make those white frosted letters and the wreath of flowers? They look
like orange blossoms.”
Jenny flashed a smile of triumph around at her grandparents. “There,” she
exclaimed, “doesn’t _that_ prove that I am an artist born? Miss Gale
recognizes flowers. See, here is the spray I was copying. We’re going to
put a wreath of real blossoms around the edge of the plate.”
“But I thought orange blossoms meant a wedding—” Lenora began. She
wondered if Charles’ secret was known, but Jenny, in a matter of fact
way, replied: “A twenty-first birthday is equally important. Our only
other choice would have been lemon blossoms, and, somehow, _they_ didn’t
seem quite appropriate.”
Grandma Sue had again busied herself at the stove, while Grandpa Si
strained the milk.
“Come, girls,” she now called, “everything’s done to a turn. You’ll be
wantin’ a deal o’ time to prink, I reckon.”
The old man removed his straw hat, washed at the sink pump, and, as he
was rubbing his face with the towel, his eyes twinkled above it.
“I cal’late it’ll take quite a spell for me’n you to rig up for this here
ball, Susie-wife,” he said as he took his place at the head of the table.
The old woman, at the other end, shook her gray curls as she protested:
“I sort o’ wish yo’ hadn’t been so hasty, makin’ a promise on your honor
like that to Harry. We’ll feel old-fashioned, and in the way, I reckon.”
“Wall, I’m sort o’ squeamish about it myself, but the word of Si Warner
can’t be took back.” The old man tried to assume a repentant expression.
“You’re a fraud, Grandpa Si!” Jenny laughed across at him. “I can see by
the twinkle in your eyes that you intend to lead the dance tonight.”
* * * * * * * *
Such a merry, exciting time as they had in the two hours that followed.
Jenny insisted on helping her grandparents to dress in their best before
she donned her party gown. Grandma Sue had a black silk which had been
turned and made over several times, but, being of the best of material,
it had not grown shabby.
“Old Mrs. Jones gave it to me,” she told Lenora, “when Si and I were
figgerin’ on gettin’ married.” Susan Warner’s cheeks were apple-red with
excitement.
“Oh, Grandma Sue,” Lenora suddenly exclaimed, “I have the prettiest
creamy lace shawl. It belonged to my grandmother, and there’s a
head-dress to go with it. She’d just love to have you wear it. Won’t you,
to please me?”
“I cal’late I will if you’re hankerin’ to have me.” Lenora darted to her
trunk and soon returned with a small but very beautiful shoulder shawl of
creamy lace, and a smaller lace square with a pale lavender bow which she
placed atop of Susan Warner’s gray curls. Grandpa Si arrived, dressed in
his best black, in time to join in the general chorus of admiration.
“Grandma Sue, you’ll be the belle of the ball!” Jenny kissed both of the
flushed cheeks, then flew to her room, for Lenora was calling her to make
haste or their escort would arrive before they were ready. And that was
just what happened, for, ten minutes later, wheels were heard without,
and a big closed car stopped at the side porch. Harold bounded in, and,
when he saw Grandma Sue, he declared that none of the younger guests
would be able to hold a candle to her. “It’s a blarneyin’ batch you are.”
The old woman was nevertheless pleased. A moment later Jenny appeared,
arrayed in her blue silk party gown, her glinting gold-brown hair done up
higher than ever before, and her flower-like face aglow. For a moment
Harold could not speak. He had not dreamed that she could be so
beautiful. Then Lenora came, looking very sweet indeed in a rose chiffon.
“Silas,” Grandma Sue directed, “you’ll have to set up front, along of
Harry, an’ hold the cake on you’re knees. I do hope ’twon’t slide off.
It’s sort o’ ticklish, carryin’ it.”
But in due time the big house was reached, and the cake was left at the
basement kitchen door. Jenny felt a thrill of excitement course over her,
yet even she could not know how momentous _that_ evening was to be in her
_own_ life.