THINGS PRESENT AND THINGS TO COME
THE ensuing week at sea was one of the most delightful in the Ranch
girls' lives and in many ways illustrative of their future history.
An ocean steamer filled with passengers is in itself a miniature world,
so many different types of people are represented, there is such freedom
of association, such a leveling of artificial barriers that often exist
on land. Frequently a fellow traveler reveals more of his character and
history to some stranger whom he may meet in crossing than ever he has
confided to a life-long friend.
Until the present time the four Ranch girls and their chaperon, Ruth
Drew, had lived singularly sheltered lives. First brought up almost like
boys under the care of their overseer, Jim Colter, three of the girls
had known only the few neighbors scattered within riding distance of
their thousand-acre ranch. While Olive's acquaintance, owing to her
curious childhood, had been even smaller and more primitive. Then had
come the year for Jean, Olive and Frieda at Primrose Hall under Miss
Katherine Winthrop's charge, when their horizon had broadened, admitting
a number of girls and a few young men to be their friends. But this
could hardly be called real contact with the world, since always they
were under Miss Winthrop's wise guidance. While as Jack had spent
exactly the same length of time at a hospital she had had even less
experience with people. The last ten months with three of the girls
again at the Rainbow Ranch had meant a return to the same kind of quiet
every-day existence, varied only by the interests of the working of the
mine. Olive's six months apart from the others had simply been devoted
to further study with Miss Winthrop with week-end visits to her
grandmother at The Towers.
Then, although Ruth Drew was almost ten years older than any one of the
Ranch girls, in many ways she was fully as ignorant of the world. It had
never yet occurred to her that there were persons capable of
misrepresenting themselves, nor of pretending to be what they were not
and using innocent friendships for purposes of their own. Nor had it
occurred to her that the reputation of the four girls for having
suddenly acquired great wealth might place them in danger.
From the time Ruth had been a little girl she had never had the
disposition for making many friends. Always she had been timid and
retiring, devoting herself to her father until after his death. Except
for the year spent at the Ranch and the winter at the hospital in New
York with Jack, Ruth had never known anything outside the narrow circle
of a Vermont village life. Not that a village does not furnish almost
all there is to learn of human nature, but that she had shut herself in
from most of it. The freedom of the wonderful ranch life, the contact
and friendship with Jim Colter, which for a while had looked like
something more than friendship, had widened the little Vermont school
teacher's horizon. Then had come the break with Jim, and the past winter
at home she had shut herself up even more completely. During the many
evenings alone in her small cottage there had been plenty of opportunity
for Ruth Drew to regret her decision against Jim, but whatever passed in
her mind she had kept to herself. Not even to Jacqueline Ralston, who
at one time had been her confidante, had she made any confession.
So perhaps from the standpoint of worldly wisdom the Rainbow Ranch party
was none too well equipped for a long journey or for the meeting with
many different types of people and the making of friendships which might
be of grave importance in after years.
And, notwithstanding the fact that Ruth and the four girls were
singularly devoted to one another, there was no question but that they
were five widely unlike characters, and that their interests must often
lie in as many different directions now that their opportunities were to
be so much broader.
For a disinterested observer (if ever there is such an one) it would
have been difficult at this time in the Ranch girls' lives to have
decided which one was the most attractive--beauty and charm are in
themselves so much a matter of personal taste. But perhaps to older and
more thoughtful persons it was now Jacqueline Ralston who would make the
strongest appeal.
Jack was only a few months older than her friend, Olive Van Mater, less
than a year older than her cousin, Jean Bruce, and yet looked a good
deal more mature and felt so. This was true, not only because after her
father's death she had been in a measure the head of the Rainbow Ranch,
but because her year of illness had given her more time for
introspection than is allowed most girls of her age. Sometimes she
believed that this whole year had been completely lost, and then again
came the knowledge that she could have learned certain lessons in no
other way. Yet now she was determined to waste no further time, but to
get as much as possible out of each passing day and to live fully and
completely.
Jacqueline Ralston did not look entirely like the brilliant, vigorous
Ranch girl who three years before had ridden alone across the prairie to
search for her lost cattle. She had less color in her cheeks, perhaps,
except under the pressure of some unusual excitement, but her hair was a
deeper bronze, her eyes a clearer gray, and her rather full lips a
brighter crimson. There was something about her expression not always
easy to understand. The old wilfulness was still there, the old habit of
knowing her own mind and wishing to have her own way, but with it a
greater power of self-control than most girls of nineteen have--and
something else. What this other trait was neither Jack herself nor her
friends yet knew. This trip abroad might mean more to her than to any
one of the other four girls. In spite of her lameness, which was never
apparent except when she was greatly fatigued, Jack was tall--five feet
seven inches--and held her shoulders with the erectness of other days.
Slender, Jack would always be, but not thin, for sixteen years of
outdoor life had given her too fine a beginning.
In each person's atmosphere or aura, if you prefer to call it so, there
is usually a suggestion of some one distinctive quality, some
characteristic that shows above all others. With Jacqueline Ralston it
was purity. She was straightforward and unafraid, without cowardice and
without suspicion. Having once believed in you, Jack would stand by you
through thick and thin. More than anything in the world she hated a lie.
For some reason she had always been and always would be what for want of
a better word is called "a man's woman," meaning that men would
understand and sympathize with her point of view and she with theirs.
Olive Van Mater was just the opposite of Jack. Although the story of
her strange early life was now fully explained, she would never lose her
shyness and look of gentle mystery. Nor would she ever be able to make
friends among strangers so readily as the three other girls. Many
persons there would always be who would explain her shyness as coldness
and a lack of interest. Still she could reveal herself more easily to
girls and to women than to men. And although her peculiar beauty and
sweetness could not fail to win her admirers because of her sympathy and
self-forgetfulness, all the days of her life her own sex would make the
strongest appeal to her.
In Jean Bruce the two types were mingled. Jean wanted to attract people.
She wanted to make everybody like her and she always had and always
would. It did not matter to her who the people were, whether they were
young or old, girls or boys, she simply had the desire to be liked and
went about accomplishing it on shipboard just as she had at Primrose
Hall and everywhere else. This proved that Jean had the real social
gift, but then her talent had never been disputed by any member of her
family.
With Frieda Ralston, however, the question of type was at this time not
important. She was two years younger not only in years but in a great
many other things, and when it did not interfere with her pleasure she
meant to keep so. There was only one thing at present that Frieda was
interested in and that was having a good time, and certainly she was
accomplishing it. When Dick Grant was not dancing attendance upon her,
and very often when he was, there were a dozen other girls and young men
of about Frieda's age aboard, by whom she was constantly surrounded. It
worried Ruth a great deal, but then, unfortunately, Ruth was the only
member of the Rainbow Ranch party who was seasick. And the three girls
simply did not take the trouble to spend much time looking after Frieda.
Though neither of them wished her to know it, both Olive and Jean tried
to be especially careful of Jack. And this was particularly hard since
Jack resented any suggestion that she was not as strong as they were.
She was under the impression that she could walk without difficulty in
spite of the rolling and pitching of the ship. Nevertheless she did
finally promise Ruth to remain in her steamer chair unless one of the
girls could be with her, and though she did not see any sense in her
promise, meant to keep her word.
On the fourth afternoon out, at about four o'clock in the afternoon, the
weather became unexpectedly heavy. Ruth had long ago given up and gone
to her room. Frieda was playing games in the salon, but Jack, Olive and
Jean were on deck watching the approach of the storm. Jack adored the
water. She had wanted the ocean to look altogether different from her
prairies, to bring a wholly new impression into her life. But until
today the calm, gentle, even roll of the waves at a sufficient distance
had not been so unlike the far-off rippling of the prairie fields. Now,
with the approach of a storm, with the blackness, everything seemed
different.
The three girls had been wrapped in their steamer rugs sitting quietly
in their chairs, Jack supposing that Olive and Jean were as interested
in the storm as she was.
Suddenly Jean sighed. "The face of the waters gets a bit tiresome after
a while, don't you think so?" she asked. "Remember the Princess asked us
to come and have tea with her some afternoon. Suppose we go now. Seems
as though she is a chance that ought not to be neglected. Who knows if
the Princess takes a truly fancy to us she may do something thrilling
for us when we get to Rome. Ask us to a court ball perhaps!" Jean
laughed at the absurdity of her suggestion.
But Jack frowned a little. She was grateful to the stranger for her
interest and former kindness to them; yet she rather resented the air of
mystery and seclusion surrounding her and her haughty attitude toward
the other passengers. A princess might of course be different from other
human beings; Jack felt she had no way of knowing. Nevertheless the
Princess Colonna had confessed that she was an American girl. Why should
a marriage have made so great a change in her point of view? In a vague
fashion Jack was a little resentful of the homage which Ruth and the
three other girls offered their new acquaintance. Now she slowly shook
her head.
"You and Olive go, Jean. Really I would prefer to stay by myself for a
little while and watch the storm."
Five minutes afterwards the two girls had departed, leaving Jack
comfortably wrapped up in her steamer chair, and insisting that they
would return in time to take her down to her stateroom to dress for
dinner.