Just as soon as dinner was over at the asylum, Charlotte sped away to
the gap in the fence--the northwest corner gap. There was a gap in the
southeast corner, too--the asylum fence was in a rather poor
condition--but the southeast gap was interesting only after tea, and
it was never at any time quite as interesting as the northwest gap.
Charlotte ran as fast as her legs could carry her, for she did not
want any of the other orphans to see her. As a rule, Charlotte liked
the company of the other orphans and was a favourite with them. But,
somehow, she did not want them to know about the gaps. She was sure
they would not understand.
Charlotte had discovered the gaps only a week before. They had not
been there in the autumn, but the snowdrifts had lain heavily against
the fence all winter, and one spring day when Charlotte was creeping
through the shrubbery in the northwest corner in search of the little
yellow daffodils that always grew there in spring, she found a
delightful space where a board had fallen off, whence she could look
out on a bit of woodsy road with a little footpath winding along by
the fence under the widespreading boughs of the asylum trees.
Charlotte felt a wild impulse to slip out and run fast and far down
that lovely, sunny, tempting, fenceless road. But that would have been
wrong, for it was against the asylum rules, and Charlotte, though she
hated most of the asylum rules with all her heart, never disobeyed or
broke them. So she subdued the vagrant longing with a sigh and sat
down among the daffodils to peer wistfully out of the gap and feast
her eyes on this glimpse of a world where there were no brick walls
and prim walks and never-varying rules.
Then, as Charlotte watched, the Pretty Lady with the Blue Eyes came
along the footpath. Charlotte had never seen her before and hadn't the
slightest idea in the world who she was, but that was what she called
her as soon as she saw her. The lady was so pretty, with lovely blue
eyes that were very sad, although somehow as you looked at them you
felt that they ought to be laughing, merry eyes instead. At least
Charlotte thought so and wished at once that she knew how to make them
laugh. Besides, the Lady had lovely golden hair and the most beautiful
pink cheeks, and Charlotte, who had mouse-coloured hair and any number
of freckles, had an unbounded admiration for golden locks and roseleaf
complexions. The Lady was dressed in black, which Charlotte didn't
like, principally because the matron of the asylum wore black and
Charlotte didn't--exactly--like the matron.
When the Pretty Lady with the Blue Eyes had gone by, Charlotte drew a
long breath.
"If I could pick out a mother I'd pick out one that looked just like
her," she said.
Nice things sometimes happen close together, even in an orphan asylum,
and that very evening Charlotte discovered the southeast gap and found
herself peering into the most beautiful garden you could imagine, a
garden where daffodils and tulips grew in great ribbon-like beds, and
there were hedges of white and purple lilacs, and winding paths under
blossoming trees. It was such a garden as Charlotte had pictured in
happy dreams and never expected to see in real life. And yet here it
had been all the time, divided from her only by a high board fence.
"I wouldn't have s'posed there could be such a lovely place so near an
orphan asylum," mused Charlotte. "It's the very loveliest place I ever
saw. Oh, I do wish I could go and walk in it. Well, I do declare! If
there isn't a lady in it, too!"
Sure enough, there was a lady, helping an unruly young vine to run in
the way it should go over a little arbour. Charlotte instantly named
her the Tall Lady with the Black Eyes. She was not nearly so young or
so pretty as the Lady with the Blue Eyes, but she looked very kind and
jolly.
I'd like her for an aunt, reflected Charlotte. Not for a mother--oh,
no, not for a mother, but for an aunt. I know she'd make a splendid
aunt. And, oh, just look at her cat!
Charlotte looked at the cat with all her might and main. She loved
cats, but cats were not allowed in an orphan asylum, although
Charlotte sometimes wondered if there were no orphan kittens in the
world which would be appropriate for such an institution.
The Tall Lady's cat was so big and furry, with a splendid tail and
elegant stripes. A Very Handsome Cat, Charlotte called him mentally,
seeing the capitals as plainly as if they had been printed out.
Charlotte's fingers tingled to stroke his glossy coat, but she folded
them sternly together.
"You know you can't," she said to herself reproachfully, "so what is
the use of wanting to, Charlotte Turner? You ought to be thankful just
to see the garden and the Very Handsome Cat."
Charlotte watched the Tall Lady and the Cat until they went away into
a fine, big house further up the garden, then she sighed and went back
through the cherry trees to the asylum playground, where the other
orphans were playing games. But, somehow, games had lost their flavour
compared with those fascinating gaps.
It did not take Charlotte long to discover that the Pretty Lady always
walked past the northwest gap about one o'clock every day and never at
any other time--at least at no other time when Charlotte was free to
watch her; and that the Tall Lady was almost always in her garden at
five in the afternoon, accompanied by the Very Handsome Cat, pruning
and trimming some of her flowers. Charlotte never missed being at the
gaps at the proper times, if she could possibly manage it, and her
heart was full of dreams about her two Ladies. But the other orphans
thought all the fun had gone out of her, and the matron noticed her
absent-mindedness and dosed her with sulphur and molasses for it.
Charlotte took the dose meekly, as she took everything else. It was
all part and parcel with being an orphan in an asylum.
"But if the Pretty Lady with the Blue Eyes was my mother, she wouldn't
make me swallow such dreadful stuff," sighed Charlotte. "I don't
believe even the Tall Lady with the Black Eyes would--though perhaps
she might, aunts not being quite as good as mothers."
"Do you know," said Maggie Brunt, coming up to Charlotte at this
moment, "that Lizzie Parker is going to be adopted? A lady is going to
adopt her."
"Oh!" cried Charlotte breathlessly. An adoption was always a wonderful
event in the asylum, as well as a somewhat rare one. "Oh, how
splendid!"
"Yes, isn't it?" said Maggie enviously. "She picked out Lizzie because
she was pretty and had curls. I don't think it is fair."
Charlotte sighed. "Nobody will ever want to adopt me, because I've
mousy hair and freckles," she said. "But somebody may want you some
day, Maggie. You have such lovely black hair."
"But it isn't curly," said Maggie forlornly. "And the matron won't let
me put it up in curl papers at night. I just wish I was Lizzie."
Charlotte shook her head. "I don't. I'd love to be adopted, but I
wouldn't really like to be anybody but myself, even if I am homely.
It's better to be yourself with mousy hair and freckles than somebody
else who is ever so beautiful. But I do envy Lizzie, though the
matron says it is wicked to envy anyone."
Envy of the fortunate Lizzie did not long possess Charlotte's mind,
however, for that very day a wonderful thing happened at noon hour by
the northwest gap. Charlotte had always been very careful not to let
the Pretty Lady see her, but today, after the Pretty Lady had gone
past, Charlotte leaned out of the gap to watch her as far as she
could. And just at that very moment the Pretty Lady looked back; and
there, peering at her from the asylum fence, was a little scrap of a
girl, with mouse-coloured hair and big freckles, and the sweetest,
brightest, most winsome little face the Pretty Lady had ever seen. The
Pretty Lady smiled right down at Charlotte and for just a moment her
eyes looked as Charlotte had always known they ought to look.
Charlotte was feeling rather frightened down in her heart but she
smiled bravely back.
"Are you thinking of running away?" said the Pretty Lady, and, oh,
what a sweet voice she had--sweet and tender, just like a mother's
voice ought to be!
"No," said Charlotte, shaking her head gravely. "I should like to run
away but it would be of no use, because there is no place to run to."
"Why would you like to run away?" asked the Pretty Lady, still
smiling. "Don't you like living here?"
Charlotte opened her big eyes very widely. "Why, it's an orphan
asylum!" she exclaimed. "Nobody could like living in an orphan asylum.
But, of course, orphans should be very thankful to have any place to
live in and I _am_ thankful. I'd be thankfuller still if the matron
wouldn't make me take sulphur and molasses. If you had a little girl,
would you make her take sulphur and molasses?"
"I didn't when I had a little girl," said the Pretty Lady wistfully,
and her eyes were sad again.
"Oh, did you really have a little girl once?" asked Charlotte softly.
"Yes, and she died," said the Pretty Lady in a trembling voice.
"Oh, I am sorry," said Charlotte, more softly still. "Did she--did she
have lovely golden hair and pink cheeks like yours?"
"No," the Pretty Lady smiled again, though it was a very sad smile.
"No, she had mouse-coloured hair and freckles."
"Oh! And weren't you sorry?"
"No, I was glad of it, because it made her look like her father. I've
always loved little girls with mouse-coloured hair and freckles ever
since. Well, I must hurry along. I'm late now, and schools have a
dreadful habit of going in sharp on time. If you should happen to be
here tomorrow, I'm going to stop and ask your name."
Of course Charlotte was at the gap the next day and they had a lovely
talk. In a week they were the best of friends. Charlotte soon found
out that she could make the Pretty Lady's eyes look as they ought to
for a little while at least, and she spent all her spare time and lay
awake at nights devising speeches to make the Pretty Lady laugh.
Then another wonderful thing happened. One evening when Charlotte went
to the southeast gap, the Tall Lady with the Black Eyes was not in the
garden--at least, Charlotte thought she wasn't. But the Very Handsome
Cat was, sitting gravely under a syringa bush and looking quite proud
of himself for being a cat.
"You Very Handsome Cat," said Charlotte, "won't you come here and let
me stroke you?"
The Very Handsome Cat did come, just as if he understood English, and
he purred with delight when Charlotte took him in her arms and buried
her face in his fur. Then--Charlotte thought she would really sink
into the ground, for the Tall Lady herself came around a lilac bush
and stood before the gap.
"Please, ma'am," stammered Charlotte in an agony of embarrassment, "I
wasn't meaning to do any harm to your Very Handsome Cat. I just wanted
to pat him. I--I am very fond of cats and they are not allowed in
orphan asylums."
"I've always thought asylums weren't run on proper principles," said
the Tall Lady briskly. "Bless your heart, child, don't look so scared.
You're welcome to pat the cat all you like. Come in and I'll give you
some flowers."
"Thank you, but I am not allowed to go off the grounds," said
Charlotte firmly, "and I think I'd rather not have any flowers because
the matron might want to know where I got them, and then she would
have this gap closed up. I live in mortal dread for fear it will be
closed anyhow. It's very uncomfortable--living in mortal dread."
The Tall Lady laughed a very jolly laugh. "Yes, I should think it
would be," she agreed. "I haven't had that experience."
Then they had a jolly talk, and every evening after that Charlotte
went to the gap and stroked the Very Handsome Cat and chatted to the
Tall Lady.
"Do you live all alone in that big house?" she asked wonderingly one
day.
"All alone," said the Tall Lady.
"Did you always live alone?"
"No. I had a sister living with me once. But I don't want to talk
about her. You'll oblige me, Charlotte, by _not_ talking about her."
"I won't then," agreed Charlotte. "I can understand why people don't
like to have their sisters talked about sometimes. Lily Mitchell has a
big sister who was sent to jail for stealing. Of course Lily doesn't
like to talk about her."
The Tall Lady laughed a little bitterly. "My sister didn't steal. She
married a man I detested, that's all."
"Did he drink?" asked Charlotte gravely. "The matron's husband drank
and that was why she left him and took to running an orphan asylum. I
think I'd rather put up with a drunken husband than live in an orphan
asylum."
"My sister's husband didn't drink," said the Tall Lady grimly. "He was
beneath her, that was all. I told her I'd never forgive her and I
never shall. He's dead now--he died a year after she married him--and
she's working for her living. I dare say she doesn't find it very
pleasant. She wasn't brought up to that. Here, Charlotte, is a
turnover for you. I made it on purpose for you. Eat it and tell me if
you don't think I'm a good cook. I'm dying for a compliment. I never
get any now that I've got old. It's a dismal thing to get old and have
nobody to love you except a cat, Charlotte."
"I think it is just as bad to be young and have nobody to love you,
not _even_ a cat," sighed Charlotte, enjoying the turnover,
nevertheless.
"I dare say it is," agreed the Tall Lady, looking as if she had been
struck by a new and rather startling idea.
* * * * *
I like the tall lady with the Black Eyes ever so much, thought
Charlotte that night as she lay in bed, but I love the Pretty Lady. I
have more fun with the Tall Lady and the Very Handsome Cat, but I
always feel nicer with the Pretty Lady. Oh, I'm so glad her little
girl had mouse-coloured hair.
Then the most wonderful thing of all happened. One day a week later
the Pretty Lady said, "Would you like to come and live with me,
Charlotte?"
Charlotte looked at her. "Are you in earnest?" she asked in a whisper.
"Indeed I am. I want you for my little girl, and if you'd like to
come, you shall. I'm poor, Charlotte, really, I'm dreadfully poor, but
I can make my salary stretch far enough for two, and we'll love each
other enough to cover the thin spots. Will you come?"
"Well, I should just think I will!" said Charlotte emphatically. "Oh,
I wish I was sure I'm not dreaming. I do love you so much, and it will
be so delightful to be your little girl."
"Very well, sweetheart. I'll come tomorrow afternoon--it is Saturday,
so I'll have the whole blessed day off--and see the matron about it.
Oh, we'll have lovely times together, dearest. I only wish I'd
discovered you long ago."
Charlotte may have eaten and studied and played and kept rules the
rest of that day and part of the next, but, if so, she has no
recollection of it. She went about like a girl in a dream, and the
matron concluded that something more than sulphur and molasses was
needed and decided to speak to the doctor about her. But she never
did, because a lady came that afternoon and told her she wanted to
adopt Charlotte.
Charlotte obeyed the summons to the matron's room in a tingle of
excitement. But when she went in, she saw only the matron and the Tall
Lady with the Black Eyes. Before Charlotte could look around for the
Pretty Lady the matron said, "Charlotte, this lady, Miss Herbert,
wishes to adopt you. It is a splendid thing for you, and you ought to
be a very thankful little girl."
Charlotte's head fairly whirled. She clasped her hands and the tears
brimmed up in her eyes.
"Oh, I like the Tall Lady," she gasped, "but I _love_ the Pretty Lady
and I promised her I'd be her little girl. I can't break my promise."
"What on earth is the child talking about?" said the mystified matron.
And just then the maid showed in the Pretty Lady. Charlotte flew to
her and flung her arms about her.
"Oh, tell them I am your little girl!" she begged. "Tell them I
promised you first. I don't want to hurt the Tall Lady's feelings
because I truly do like her so very much. But I want to be your little
girl."
The Pretty Lady had given one glance at the Tall Lady and flushed red.
The Tall Lady, on the contrary, had grown very pale. The matron felt
uncomfortable. Everybody knew that Miss Herbert and Mrs. Bond hadn't
spoken to each other for years, even if they were sisters and alone in
the world except for each other.
Mrs. Bond turned to the matron. "I have come to ask permission to
adopt this little girl," she said.
"Oh, I'm very sorry," stammered the matron, "but Miss Herbert has just
asked for her, and I have consented."
Charlotte gave a great gulp of disappointment, but the Pretty Lady
suddenly wheeled around to face the Tall Lady, with quivering lips and
tearful eyes.
"Don't take her from me, Alma," she pleaded humbly. "She--she is so
like my own baby and I'm so lonely. Any other child will suit you as
well."
"Not at all," said the Tall Lady brusquely. "Not at all, Anna. No
other child will suit me at all. And may I ask what you intend to keep
her on? I know your salary is barely enough for yourself."
"That is my concern," said the Pretty Lady a little proudly.
"Humph!" The Tall Lady shrugged her shoulders. "Just as independent as
ever, Anna, I see. Well, child, what do _you_ say? Which of us will
you come with? Remember, I have the cat on my side, and Anna can't
make half as good turnovers as I can. Remember all this, Charlotte."
"Oh, I--I like you so much," stammered Charlotte, "and I wish I could
live with you both. But since I can't, I must go with the Pretty Lady,
because I promised, and because I loved her first."
"And best?" queried the Tall Lady.
"And best," admitted Charlotte, bound to be truthful, even at the risk
of hurting the Tall Lady's feelings. "But I _do_ like you, too--next
best. And you really don't need me as much as she does, for you have
your Very Handsome Cat and she hasn't anything."
"A cat no longer satisfies the aching void in my soul," said the Tall
Lady stubbornly. "Nothing will satisfy it but a little girl with
mouse-coloured hair and freckles. No, Anna, I've got to have
Charlotte. But I think that with her usual astuteness, she has already
solved the problem for us by saying she'd like to live with us both.
Why can't she? You just come back home and we'll let bygones be
bygones. We both have something to forgive, but I was an obstinate old
fool and I've known it for years, though I never confessed it to
anybody but the cat."
The Pretty Lady softened, trembled, smiled. She went right up to the
Tall Lady and put her arms about her neck.
"Oh, I've wanted so much to be friends with you again," she sobbed.
"But I thought you would never relent--and--and--I've been so
lonely--"
"There, there," whispered the Tall Lady, "don't cry under the matron's
eye. Wait till we get home. I may have some crying to do myself then.
Charlotte, go and get your hat and come right over with us. We can
sign the necessary papers later on, but we must have you right off.
The cat is waiting for you on the back porch, and there is a turnover
cooling on the pantry window that is just your size."
"I am so happy," remarked Charlotte, "that I feel like crying
myself."