this particular afternoon at the studio. Yet she had often been far more
disagreeable in her general way of expressing herself. The difference
was that now Brenda herself had begun to look at life in a very
different way. She had a higher standard; she understood and admired her
cousin, even though in many ways they were very unlike, and Belle in
contrast seemed particularly shallow.
Then, too, to be perfectly honest with herself, she had to admit that
she was surprised and not pleased that Arthur Weston should show so much
interest in the society of Belle.
"Come, Brenda, are you dreaming? We are ready to go home."
At the sound of her sister's voice Brenda rose quickly, and was ready
with a laughing reply to one of her brother-in-law's witticisms.
Brenda was not inclined to be melancholy, and the half-hour of
retrospect had been good for her.
VII
IN DIFFICULTIES
On the same floor with the gymnasium at the end of the hall was a room
whose door was usually locked. In passing up and down it was not strange
that occasionally the girls would rattle the handle in their anxiety to
catch a glimpse of the inside of the room. But the door was always
fastened, and this fact allowed them to speculate widely as to what the
room contained.
"It is full of clothes and jewels that belonged to Miss South's
grandmother," announced Concetta. "She was a very strange old lady, and
as rich as rich could be, and when Miss South wants any money, she just
sells some of the things from this room."
"Oh, then the things must be beautiful; I wish we could see them!"
"Well, we'll watch and watch, and perhaps some day we shall find it
open."
Once or twice, however, on their way to the gymnasium the girls had
noticed this door ajar, and great had been their curiosity about it; for
Concetta, who was never backward in wrongdoing, had announced that she
meant to go in at the close of the gymnastic lesson, and look into some
of the trunks that were piled against the wall.
"No, no," replied Gretchen, to whom she confided her intention, "that
wouldn't be right."
"Why not?"
"Oh, we've never been told that we could go in there."
"But nobody said we couldn't go."
"I'm sure Miss South wouldn't like it."
"Ah, I shall go just the same; when I looked in just now, one of the
trunks was open, and on the top I saw a wig, all white curls, and a pink
satin dress. I'd like to have those things to dress up in. Just as soon
as I can I'm going into that room."
It happened, however, to Concetta's disappointment that when the girls
came out from the gymnasium the room in the ell was locked. But she
remembered the room, and another day in passing she noticed that the
door was slightly ajar. She now said nothing to Gretchen, but had a
whispered conference with Haleema and Inez, with the result that these
three lingered behind when the others went downstairs.
As the last footfall died away, the three girls stole quietly to the
room in the ell. Concetta laid her finger on her lips in token of
silence, for she was by no means sure that some older person might not
be within hearing.
"Oh, they're all out this afternoon except Miss Dreen," said Haleema
confidently, "and she's down in the kitchen giving a cooking lesson."
"See! see!" added Concetta, as she tiptoed ahead of the others, "there's
no one here; come on." And in a minute the three were inside the
mysterious room.
"Those are the chests of jewels!" and Concetta pointed to the three
large chests ranged along the wall.
At the end of the room were several large trunks.
"I wish that we could look inside them," said Haleema.
"Oh, no," and there was real terror in Inez's tone.
"Don't be afraid; they're all out," said Concetta.
"Yes, even Miss Angelina," added Haleema; "she's gone to a lecture."
"Miss Angelina," responded Concetta, mimicking her tone. "She's no Miss
Angelina."
"But you always call her that."
"Oh, that only to her face; I should never call her that behind her
back. Why, she's only a girl, just like we are; why, she used to live
down there at the North End, near where Luisa's mother lives. But there,
shut the door, Haleema, so that we can look at these things."
The three little girls bent over the trunk, the lid of which Concetta
had boldly opened. On the top lay the pink satin gown that she had
described in such glowing terms. Haleema slipped her arms into the
sleeves, and strange to say the bodice fitted her very well.
"You oughtn't to touch it," cried Inez.
"You are such a scarecrow," said Concetta, whose English was not always
perfect.
"Scarecrow! you mean 'fraid-cat," corrected Inez.
"Oh, well, it's all the same thing."
What did a little question of English matter, when now they were so near
the mysterious treasure; for Concetta had noticed what the others had
not seen, that a bit of bright-colored fabric was hanging from one of
the chests, and she rightly conjectured that this trunk was unlocked.
Even while she spoke to Inez she was fingering the lid of the chest, and
in a moment it was thrown back. Many were the exclamations of the three
as garment after garment was drawn out from the depths; they were
chiefly of bright-colored and delicate materials, and Madame Du Launy
would have turned in her grave had she seen these little girls trying on
the things that at one time in her life had so delighted her.
"I don't see any jewels," said Haleema disappointedly.
"Oh, we'll find them; there are some boxes at the bottom. But see here!"
and Concetta drew out a mysterious, queerly shaped package. Opening it
rather gingerly, for at first she was uncertain what it contained, and
then with a skip and a jump--
"Oh, let's dress up; here are wigs and--"
"No, no," said Inez, "perhaps some one might find us out."
"No matter, no matter," and she waved the various wigs in the air.
"Are they anybody's real hair?" asked Inez, in an awestruck tone,
pointing to the gray toupee and the short curled wig that Concetta held
in her hand.
"Of course not, child. Oh, see! Haleema has found a box of paint," and
they laughed loudly at the bright red spots on Haleema's cheeks. Then
Haleema put on the curled wig. The others shrieked with laughter. "Your
eyes look blacker than black."
[Illustration: "'I think I hear some one coming upstairs'"]
"Ah, this is better than Angelina's whip," and then they all shouted
again, recalling the episode of Angelina and the switch.
"Hush! hark!" cried Concetta, with her hand at her ear; "I think I hear
some one coming upstairs."
"Shut the trunk! Let's go into the closet;" and as she spoke the other
two followed her into the closet. It was a large closet with a transom
that let in a certain amount of light, and at first their situation
seemed rather amusing to the three. Haleema, who had gone in last, had
closed the door with a snap, and after a few minutes had passed she
started to open it again. But, alas! she could not lift the latch.
Evidently it had closed with a spring, and they would have to wait until
some one should come to their relief.
At first, as before, they giggled a little; then, as they realized their
situation, they sobered down.
"Suppose no one should come; we might have to stay all night."
"They may think that we've run away, and so they won't look for us."
"Oh, some one will remember that we didn't go downstairs; they'll come
up here the first thing."
"No, no, don't you remember how the others all ran down ahead of us?
They won't remember."
"Gretchen's the only one who might think of this room. I told her the
other day that I meant to come in some time."
"That won't do no good," rejoined Haleema; "she'll be glad to have you
shut up."
"We're better off here than we would be in that trunk," continued
Haleema thoughtfully. "I read a poem the other day about a girl that got
shut up in a chest, and she did not get out until she was dead. She was
an Italian, too," she said, looking suggestively toward Concetta, "and
her name was Jinerva."
Whereupon Concetta began to weep softly, either in sympathy for her
countrywoman or from fear that as an Italian she was more likely to
suffer than the others.
"Oh, that's nothing," said Inez; "why, we had a history lesson once
about the Black Hole. Everybody that went into it died, and there were
dozens of people."
"Why did they go in?" asked Concetta with a languid interest.
"Oh, it was in war; I don't remember much about it, only they all died."
"Well, this isn't a black hole," said Haleema cheerfully; "there's quite
a little light comes in at that window." And she began to hum,
"'When a spring lock that lay in ambush there
Fastened her down forever.'
There, that's the last of that Jinerva poem; I couldn't help remembering
it; I read it over several times."
"Oh, Haleema, and we're fastened in with a spring lock."
"Oh, we'll get out all right," said Haleema cheerfully; "'where there's
a will, there's a way.'"
While she spoke she was moving about the closet.
"I wouldn't meddle any more; if you hadn't meddled with that trunk we
wouldn't be in here now."
"I'm not meddling," she replied angrily, "I'm trying to find something."
Her search continued for some time, and at last the others heard an
exclamation of satisfaction.
"What is it?" asked Concetta. "What have you found?"
"A stick," responded Haleema. "Do you know, I believe that I can break
that window."
As she spoke she stood on tiptoe, and reached toward the transom. But,
alas! _she_ was too short, and the stick was too short, and with all her
efforts she could not reach the glass.
"We could not get out through that window," said Concetta scornfully.
"We couldn't get out through that window, so what is the good of
trying?"
"Oh, I didn't mean to get out through the window, but if I break the
glass we can have more air. We won't smother to death."
At the suggestion of smothering, although Haleema had pronounced it an
unlikely happening, Inez began to cry.
"Don't be a baby," said the little Syrian scornfully. "I guess there's
more than one way of catching a bird, even if you can't put salt on his
tail," from which it may be seen that Haleema was well on the way to
becoming a good Yankee, since her proverbs were not strictly Oriental.
How long the time seemed! The light from the other room hardly showed
through the transom. Though they could move about in the closet, their
positions were naturally cramped. The air grew closer and warmer, and
though they were in no danger of suffocation, they were becoming drowsy
from the closeness and warmth.
Haleema strained her ears to hear any one who should pass near, yet even
when she noted a distant step she realized that it would be hard to make
herself heard. Still the three girls kicked on the door, and sang at the
top of their voices, but in vain.
At last Haleema grew desperate.
"There's just one thing I can do," she said, "and I'll do it."
Thereupon she again seized the stick, and telling the others to go close
up to the corners, she threw it toward the transom. The first time it
fell back and hit her on the nose, the second time it merely grazed the
wall beside the glass, the third time it touched the glass without
breaking it.
"There," said Haleema, "I'm sure that I can do it," and with one mighty
effort she took aim again, and the stick crashed through the glass. Most
of the pieces went outside, but a few bits fell into the closet, and one
of these scratched Haleema's forehead. In her triumph at accomplishing
her end she did not mind the injury.
"There! you can come out of the corner. We'll get plenty of air from the
room, and if any one should be passing, why, it will be easier to hear
us. Sing, Concetta, at the top of your voice."
"I'm too tired," said Concetta crossly, "and dreadful hungry. I wish
you'd have let that trunk alone, Haleema; that's what made all the
trouble."
So the time dragged on, and at length Concetta, though she never would
admit it, fell asleep. Haleema kept herself awake by telling wonderful
stories--some of them fairy tales, and some of them stories of
adventures that she professed to have passed through.
At last even her lively tongue was quiet, and she had given up kicking
against the door, as a useless expenditure of energy.
In the meantime the absence of the three girls had become the subject of
conjecture on the part of the others downstairs. No one apparently had
noticed when they left the gymnasium, though Nellie thought that she had
seen them on their way to the street floor.
"Perhaps they've just gone off for fun. Haleema's always up to some
mischief."
"They may have run off for good, like Mary Murphy."
"Oh, no, there's no danger; that ain't likely. They know which side
their bread's buttered on."
The three vacant places troubled Angelina as she sat at the end of the
table opposite Miss Dreen.
"If I hadn't been away, they wouldn't have dared go off."
Anstiss, to whom at last they applied for advice, was uncertain what
they ought to do. She was sorry that this was the evening that Pamela
and Julia and Miss South had taken to dine with Lois in Newton. It would
be late when they returned, and she did not like the responsibility
that had fallen upon her.
While the discussion was going on, many thoughts were passing through
Gretchen's mind. Not until tea-time had she learned of the disappearance
of her schoolmates, and as she was not very quick-witted, she had not at
first connected them with the end room. When she did recall Concetta's
desire to explore it, she hesitated about speaking. In the first place,
if Concetta heard that she had told of her previous efforts to pry into
the mysteries of the trunks, she would surely take vengeance, especially
if at the present time she happened not to be there. If she had been
shut up in the room all this time, or in a trunk--and then the story of
Ginevra came into Gretchen's mind, and she was half afraid to suggest
that the end room be explored.
So positive, however, was Angelina that the girls had run away, or at
least had taken advantage of Miss South's absence to spend the evening
out, that no one suggested exploring the house thoroughly. Anstiss
herself had gone to the room of each girl to assure herself that they
were not in one of them, and had sat herself down to her hour's reading
when she noticed that Gretchen was softly weeping.
"Why, what is the matter, child?" she asked, and Gretchen, wiping her
eyes with a handkerchief that left a little dark streak, looked up for a
moment, and then hung down her head without answering.
"Tell her," said Nellie, who sat beside her, with a nudge that made
Gretchen wriggle her shoulders. To save herself, perhaps, from a second
such demonstration, when Anstiss repeated her question Gretchen replied:
"I'm afraid that they're locked up in the attic."
"Who? Haleema and the other two?"
Anstiss had already started toward the door.
"Yes'm; I went upstairs just before you came in and I thought I heard a
little noise from the end room."
"Then why didn't you look in? Was the door locked?"
"I don't know; I didn't try it. I was afraid that they might be dead."
"But you said that you heard a noise. Oh, Gretchen, you are a silly
girl."
As she spoke Anstiss was wondering why she herself had not thought of
the end room, since every corner of the house ought to have been
thoroughly explored.
Then she ran upstairs to the top of the house, and then down the two or
three steps to the end room, with five girls and Fidessa following her
closely. She felt sure that she heard a noise from the direction of the
room; nor was she wrong. Haleema, who had managed to keep herself awake
amid all the discomforts of her position, was shouting at the top of her
rather weak lungs. Yet she had made herself heard.
A glance around the small room and the sight of the broken glass on the
floor outside showed Anstiss that the girls were in the closet. But here
was a new difficulty. The door had shut with a spring that had locked
it, and no one knew where the key could be found.
The fact, however, that they were discovered had restored the spirits of
the girls inside the closet.
"Yes, we are starved," they admitted when questioned.
"Let's get a ladder, and send down a basket by a rope over the door,"
suggested Angelina; and before any one could object she had gone down to
the kitchen. When she returned with a small basket containing three
oranges and some slices of bread and butter, Anstiss praised her warmly
for bringing just the right things. In her absence a ladder had been
brought from a corner of the gymnasium, and it was very little work to
lower the basket over the transom to the hungry girls within.
They had hardly finished their repast when the diners-out returned, and
when they heard of the disturbance upstairs Miss South hastened at once
to the scene.
"Why, no," she said, "I haven't a key; it is strange that that should
have been a spring latch, for there's nothing very valuable in the
closet. We did not intend to keep it fastened. There are many things of
my grandmother's in these trunks, and though we knew that no one would
meddle with them, we meant to keep them locked, as well as the door of
this room. I was up here myself just before I went out, and I fear that
I must have left the door open."
Not a word thus far of reproof for the meddlesome girls within the
closet, although Miss South saw plainly that one trunk, if no more, had
been ransacked.
A minute later Julia and Pamela appeared with the small tool-chest that
was kept in the hall closet on the first floor, and then, to every
one's astonishment, Miss South herself set to work upon the latch in the
deftest possible way, and in a minute the lock was off and the door
open.
"My! she did it as well as a man could," whispered Gretchen to Nellie.
But Miss South heard the whisper, and, smiling, said, "As well as I hope
every girl in the Mansion will be able to do before her term here is
up."
When the door was opened the prisoners rushed out; their faces were
rather grave. It is true that they were quite wide-awake, but now,
almost for the first time, they realized the impropriety of their
conduct, and dreaded facing their comrades. Everything considered, they
were hardly prepared for the shouts of laughter that greeted their
appearance.
"Oh, Haleema, you do look so funny!" and Haleema, putting her hand to
her forehead, realized that she was still wearing the wig, while the
observers saw what she could not, that the paint was daubed on very
unevenly, and gave her a strange aspect.
VIII
THE FRINGED GENTIAN LEAGUE
The "Fringed Gentian League" was the girls' favorite club; or it would
be truer to say that it was the favorite, partly because it was the only
regular club at the Mansion, and also because all its doings were
extremely interesting. Anstiss Rowe was the Honorary President and Julia
the Honorary Secretary, and the club had met two or three times before
it had elected its own officers. In starting, every one of the girls was
invited to join, and every one accepted. Then Miss South informed them
that a medium-sized room on the second floor in the wing was to be their
club-room.
"I present the club," she said, when they first met in the room, "with
these chairs and the large library-table, but I hope that you will
gradually add to its furnishings from your own earnings."
"Earnings!" At first none of them understood, nor indeed did they learn
for some time later just what she meant by "earnings."
The walls were covered with a cartridge-paper of a curious purplish
blue, and that was what suggested to Gretchen the name for the League.
Some of the girls rejected this as a poor suggestion.
"That would be a funny reason to give," said Concetta, "to name a club
for a wall-paper; we ought to have a different reason."
Other girls gave other opinions, but while they were discussing it
Gretchen had been saying to herself the stanzas of Bryant's poem. At
last she looked as if she had come to a satisfactory reason, but she
hesitated about giving it to the others, lest they should laugh at her.
Accordingly she hastened to the honorary officers, who were busy with
the large book that was to contain the names of the members.
"Why, yes, dear, that is a very good reason," responded Julia, while
Gretchen blushed at the praise. But although she had had the courage to
tell her elders, it was harder for the little German maiden to express
her thoughts to those of her own age. She was a curious mixture of
poetic fancies and practical ideas, and the fancies she always hesitated
to reveal to others. But at last she permitted Julia to tell the girls
why she thought "Fringed Gentian" a good name for the club. "Because
it's a looking upward club; that is, a 'look to heaven' club. Recite it,
Gretchen," urged Miss Julia, and the little girl began timidly,--
"'I would that thus when I shall see
The hour of death draw near to me,
Hope blossoming within my heart,
May look to heaven, as I depart.'"
"Ugh!" cried Concetta, shaking her dark head. "How solemn; we don't mean
to die in this club, Miss Julia."
"No, my dear; but the fringed gentian does not die instantly, as it
looks upward. Blue is the color of hope, and the fringed gentian by this
poem becomes a flower of hope, and so I think that you can give this
reason, if you ever have to give a reason, why this League is called the
'Fringed Gentian' League."
It was therefore a following out of Gretchen's suggestion, that when
they came to draw up the Constitution for the League, its purpose was
defined in the language of much more important organizations.
"The purpose of this League shall be to encourage good thoughts and good
books, and to keep our hearts looking upward." Although some of the more
matter-of-fact objected that hearts did not really look up at all, the
vote was in favor of the phrase, and the honorary officers said that no
club could have a loftier aim.
The officers were to be a President, a Vice-President, a Secretary, and
a Treasurer. But they were not to be elected until the second meeting.
The honorary officers, indeed, had their hands full in advising the
members as to what should and what should not be put in the
Constitution. But at last it was all arranged in paragraphs: one to tell
who should be the members, another to tell how many officers there
should be and what their duties, and others defining the aims of the
club, and one to state under what conditions a member might be put out
of the club. Each girl was perfectly sure that such a thing would never
happen. "It is always best to be prepared for the worst," said Maggie
sagely, and the others acceded. Finally there was a paragraph providing
for amendments, "for you may think of things you may wish to add to this
Constitution, and it would be a pity to find yourselves tied to laws
that you cannot add to or change."
In fact, it was well that this provision was made, for at the next
weekly meeting the girls wished to add to the numbers of the League by
having associate members. Maggie, who made the suggestion, was praised
for it by Julia, who saw that in this way other girls might become
interested in the work of the Mansion.
There was much discussion, of course, about the duties and privileges of
the new members. But at last it was settled that there were to be no
more than twelve associates. Each was to be elected unanimously by
Mansion members of the League, and they were to have the privilege of
attending all the regular meetings. They could take out books from the
library, but unlike the regular members they were not to use the
club-room at other times.
"I would advise you," Julia had said, "not to elect more than half your
associate members at first, for should the list fill up too soon, you
might then find yourselves unable to invite other very desirable
members."
"Couldn't we have them too?"
"Ah! Concetta, the room is small, and even when the League has twenty
girls, you will find it fairly crowded."
Guided partly by this advice, and also moved by the fact that the
founders of the League had difficulty in agreeing on new members, only
five associates had been added by Thanksgiving. One of these was a
friend of Concetta's from Prince Street, a timid little Italian, and
with her a Portuguese girl from the same house. It was again the advice
of the honorary officers that the girls should be chosen from the same
neighborhood, so that they could come and go together; for though the
meetings were on Thursday afternoons, there were certain advantages in
having the associates neighbors. Two others were Jewish girls from
Blossom Street, and the fifth was a little German from Roxbury, a
special friend of Gretchen's.