THE TURNED-ABOUT GIRLS
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BLITHE MCBRIDE
HANDS OFF!
HUGH GWYETH: A ROUNDHEAD CAVALIER
SOLDIER RIGDALE, Ill. by R. Birch
THE MAKING OF CHRISTOPHER FERRINGHAM
A LITTLE CAPTIVE LAD, Ill. by Will Grefe
MERRYLIPS, Ill. by F. Merrill
THE TURNED-ABOUT GIRLS, Ill. by Blanche Greer
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[Illustration: But just as she reached the gap Caroline came pattering
out of the dark and clutched her--]
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THE TURNED-ABOUT GIRLS
BY
BEULAH MARIE DIX
AUTHOR OF "MERRYLIPS," "BLITHE MCBRIDE," ETC.
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1922
_All rights reserved_
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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
COPYRIGHT, 1922,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1922.
FERRIS
PRINTING COMPANY
NEW YORK CITY
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To
MY TRUSTY AND WELL-BELOVED DAUGHTER
EVELYN GREENLEAF FLEBBE
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CONTENTS
I. STRANGERS ON THE LIMITED
II. MILDRED, MISTRESS OF CEREMONIES
III. A BOND IN COMMON
IV. THE BIG IDEA
V. TURNED-ABOUT GIRLS
VI. CLAIMED AND CALLED FOR
VII. LIKE A DREAM
VIII. MUSIC IN THE TWILIGHT
IX. PENELOPE UNBENDS
X. THE CAPTURE OF A HALF-AUNT
XI. ON THE ROAD TO LONGMEADOW
XII. NEW RELATIONS
XIII. "CALL ME JACKIE!"
XIV. THE END OF A PERFECT DAY
XV. TWO PENNIES TO SPEND
XVI. A FAIR ENCOUNTER
XVII. OVER THE TEACUPS
XVIII. OVER THE DARNING BASKET
XIX. THE PRICE OF TEMPER
XX. ACCORDING TO AGREEMENT
XXI. AN HOUR TO TRY THE SOUL
XXII. PENELOPE TAKES ALARM
XXIII. THROUGH THE DARKNESS
XXIV. NEVER AGAIN
XXV. ON A NIGHT OF TEMPEST
XXVI. THE SERPENT OF REMORSE
XXVII. AGAINST A CLOSED DOOR
XXVIII. THE UTTERLY IMPOSSIBLE
XXIX. SO MUCH FOR SO MUCH
XXX. SLEEPY-HEAD
XXXI. A LETTER FROM ALASKA
XXXII. THE HORNS OF A DILEMMA
XXXIII. IN THE HOUSE OF HER KINSFOLK
XXXIV. A BUSINESS TRANSACTION
XXXV. ELEANOR JOINS THE PARTY
XXXVI. CORNERED
XXXVII. ONE WAY OUT
XXXVIII. ALL ON A SUMMER AFTERNOON
XXXIX. THE END OF A JOURNEY
XL. TURN ABOUT AGAIN!
XLI. NIGHT OF JUDGMENT
XLII. PRIDE AND PENELOPE
XLIII. IN THE MEADOWS
XLIV. "HAPPY EVER AFTER!"
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ILLUSTRATIONS
But just as she reached the Gap, Caroline came pattering out of
the dark and clutched her--
"Jacqueline! It's I--Cousin Penelope. Don't be frightened"
"Don't! Don't!" wailed Jacqueline and clasped Aunt Martha tight.
"Don't you cry. There's nothing to cry about"
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THE TURNED-ABOUT GIRLS
CHAPTER I
STRANGERS ON THE LIMITED
At Chicago, on a hot afternoon in early summer, two little girls got
aboard the car on the Limited that was bound through to Boston. Both
little girls had bobbed brown hair and brown eyes and both were going on
eleven, but there all likeness between them ended.
The larger of the two little girls wore a black silk frock embroidered
with amber-colored butterflies and curlicues, and black silk
knickerbockers. The socks that stopped just below her sturdy brown knees
were of black silk, and her black sandals had tiny buckles of onyx. She
wore a hat of fine black straw, and in her arms she carried a little
black vanity bag, two big books with colored pictures on their jackets,
and a box tied up in white paper and gilt cord that screamed--and
smelled--of chocolates.
Before her walked a solemn brown porter, laden with suitcases and
handbags and hatboxes. Behind her walked a worried young woman, in a
fresh blue linen suit. Thus attended the little girl passed along the
aisle, with the air of a good-natured young princess, and vanished into
the drawing-room at the end of the car. When the solemn-looking porter
came out of the drawing-room, he was no longer solemn but smiling, and
the piece of silver that he pocketed was large and round.
The smaller of the little girls had watched this progress admiringly,
but without envy. She was a serious little girl, and this was her first
long journey in the world. She sat very still in her seat, which was
back to the engine, and she clasped a doll tight in her arms. The doll
wore a neat print dress and frilled underclothes, and though the day was
hot, a crocheted sweater and a cunningly made hood. The little girl
herself wore a dress of pink and white checked gingham which was a
little faded and a little short for her. Her hat was of white straw with
a wreath of pink flowers, and her socks were white, and so were her
buttoned boots. Over her arm she carried a knitted sweater coat of red,
and at her feet stood a large suitcase which had seen much travel.
"Did you see the little girl in black?" she whispered to the doll, whose
name was Mildred. "Do you s'pose she's in mourning for somebody? Well,
people can be just as sorry inside--we know it, don't we, Mildred?--even
if they have to wear last summer's clothes, and they happen to be pink."
Mildred was a very intelligent doll. She had steady blue eyes, a sweet
smile, and a shock of flaxen curls. She showed her intelligence by
always listening sympathetically and never speaking. So she did not let
on now that she saw tears in her young mother's eyes.
Meantime in the drawing-room the little girl in black silk had put down
her books and her bag, and hung up her hat, and rung for the porter.
"I want a pillow," she told the worried young lady who accompanied her,
"and a table so I can play Canfield and--oh, yes! I want a big long
drink of lemonade."
"I'm afraid the porter won't come till the train has started," the young
lady told her. "Can't you read your books until then? What are they?"
The little girl resigned herself quite sweetly to going without her
pillow and her table, and even her lemonade. She sat down beside her
companion and showed her the books.
"This one is about Robin Hood," she said, "but I've heard of him before.
This other one is some book!"
"My dear!" the lady murmured in rebuke.
"I'll say it is!" the little girl affirmed. "I read it nights in my
berth till Auntie Blair switched off my light. Some book, I'll tell the
world! It's called 'The Prince and the Pauper.'"
And if a kind old guardian hadn't happened to give that little girl a
gorgeous copy of the beloved romance, when she left Los Angeles, and if
the little girl hadn't "eaten it up," and dreamed of it, and lived
herself into it on the long railway journey, this story, as you soon
will see, would never have been written.