REPLY FOR US, KATE.
Beatrice Meadowsweet and the Bertrams spent a delightful day together.
The Bertrams frankly owned their inability to manage a boat. They
welcomed her timely assistance, and thanked her for offering it, and
then the young folk laughed and joked together, the Bertrams secretly
finding Beatrice all the more interesting and fascinating because they
knew that their mother would not quite approve of their being found in
her society.
Beatrice told them about the harbor, took Kate into her boat, instructed
Loftus how to manage his sail, and showed him the difference between
rowing on a river and on the sea. Finally, she frankly accepted their
suggestion that she should join their impromptu picnic. They landed on
the green banks of that part of the coast which contained the ruins of
an ancient Danish fort. There they kindled a fire, boiled a kettle of
water, made tea, enjoyed bread-and-butter, cold chicken and
strawberries, and had an exceedingly festive time.
When the meal was over Bertram asked Miss Meadowsweet to show him over
the fort. She complied at once, in that easy, unconcerned manner which
gave her a certain charm, and which in itself was the perfection of
good-breeding. Mabel was about to follow, but Kate caught hold of her
skirt.
"Help me to wash up," she said.
When the girls were alone, Mabel burst into a peal of laughter.
"Oh, what a time the little mice are having!" she exclaimed. "What a
time! I only wish that nice Beatrice of yours had a couple of brothers
as charming as herself. Then our state would approach perfection."
"May, you oughtn't to talk in that silly fashion. No one hates
leading-strings as I do, and I'm determined that mother shall allow me
to make Miss Meadowsweet my friend. But this meeting seems like taking
advantage of mother's absence; it does really, and although we could not
help ourselves, I am sorry about it."
"Well, I'm not. We have had a delicious time, and I think, too, we owe
our lives to Miss Bee. Loftie was making an awful mess of that sail, and
you know, Kate, none of us can swim. Now look at Loftie, do look at him!
See how he's bending towards Miss Meadowsweet. He is quite taken with
her, I can see. Oh, what a flirt he is. Doesn't she hold herself nicely,
Kate? And hasn't she an independent sort of way?"
"Yes," responded Catherine. "I think even mother must own that Beatrice
is in good style. I knew that the moment she spoke to me."
"They are coming back," said Mabel. "Just toss me over that towel,
please, Kate. Don't you think I provided a very nice little lunch? Mrs.
Masters and I managed it between us, and you none of you knew, no none
of you, how very ancient that chicken was."
"Didn't I?" replied Kate. "I had one of the drumsticks. That chicken
has woke me in a very lusty manner more than once in the morn. 'Up, Up!'
cries the crowing cock. Oh, Mabel, it was cruel of you to deprive us of
his clarion note."
"Never mind. I saw that Loftie and Miss Meadowsweet had the breast to
eat. I nearly died when I saw you attacking the drumstick, but I knew
you wouldn't split. Now, do look up, Kate? Doesn't Loftus look radiant?
Isn't he a handsome fellow when he is pleased? What can Miss Meadowsweet
be saying to him? How he does laugh!"
"Miss Meadowsweet has a good deal of fun in her," responded Kate. "I
think it is a certain tone in her voice. Well, here they come. How did
you like the ruins, Loftus?"
"Very much--I mean as much as I care for any ruins. And I have had a
capital guide. Miss Meadowsweet wants to propose something to you
girls."
"Yes," said Beatrice, in her bright, quick way. "It will be so nice if
you can do it. Captain Bertram says he is fond of tennis, and we have
four very good courts at home. Will you all come and have supper this
evening? Mother will be delighted to see you--Do come, Miss Bertram."
She looked sympathetically and eagerly at Catherine. Catherine in her
shabby, ill-fitting dress was not nearly such a distinguished figure as
Miss Meadowsweet, whose serge costume fitted her like a glove. Yet
Catherine drew herself up as if the invitation half offended her.
"I?" she began. She looked at Loftus. Her color came and went.
"Catherine is overpowered," remarked the brother, with a smile at Miss
Meadowsweet, but a certain expression about his mouth which Kate too
well interpreted. "Catherine is overpowered. She and this little woman,"
taking Mabel's hand, "have had very few invitations lately. Never mind,
Kate, I'll support you, and if we hurry home now, you can polish up your
rusty tennis powers at Rosendale. We must make a proper court there,
Miss Meadowsweet. In the meantime, we are all delighted to accept your
kind invitation."
"Be with us at seven," said Beatrice. "Mother doesn't like supper to be
later than half-past-eight, but if you are with us by seven we shall
have time for a good game first. And now, I think I must go home, or my
mother will wonder what has become of me."
Mabel picked up the luncheon basket. Loftus flung the rugs over his
shoulder, and the four young people went down to the boats.
Loftus and Mabel lingered a little behind. Catherine and Beatrice led
the way.
"You don't want to come to-night," suddenly said Beatrice to her
companion.
Catherine started and colored.
"Why do you say that? I--I am glad to come."
"Don't come if you don't want to. I shall understand."
They had reached the boats. The Bertrams seated themselves in their own.
Miss Meadowsweet advised them not to put up the sail, but thought if she
kept within easy distance, they might manage the oars. Loftus and Mabel
rowed. Kate sat in the stern and steered. Beatrice Meadowsweet
applauded, and rowed her own boat with skill. She reached the shore
before them, and called out in her clear voice:
"I sha'n't wait now. I shall see you all at seven this evening."
"Reply for us, Kate," whispered Loftus. "Reply for us all, quickly."
"Yes--we'll come," called Catherine across the water.
Beatrice smiled. Her smile was of the sunniest. It flashed back a look
of almost love at Catherine. Then she turned to walk up the steep steps
which led from the quay to the little High Street.
"We ought not to go," instantly began Catherine.
Loftus stopped rowing, bent forward and put his hand across her mouth.
"Not another word," he said. "I'll undertake to conciliate the mother,
and I think she can trust to my ideas of good-breeding."
Meanwhile Beatrice walked quickly home. The Meadowsweets lived at the
far end of the town in a large gray stone house. The house stood back a
little from the road, and a great elm tree threw its protecting shade
over the porch and upper windows. It was, however, an ordinary house in
a street, and looked a little old-fashioned and a little gloomy until
you stepped into the drawing-room, which was furnished certainly with no
pretension to modern taste or art, but opened with French windows into a
glorious, big, old-world garden.
The house was known by the name of the Gray House, and the old garden as
the Gray Garden, but the garden at least bore no resemblance to its
neutral-tinted name. It had green alleys, and sheltering trees, and a
great expanse of smoothly kept lawn. It possessed flower-beds and flower
borders innumerable. There was more than one bower composed entirely of
rose-trees, and there were very long hedges of sweet briar and Scotch
roses.
The tennis-courts were kept to perfection in the Gray Garden, and all
the lasses and boys of Northbury were rejoiced when an invitation came
to them to test their skill at a tournament here. There was no girl in
Northbury more popular than Beatrice. This popularity was unsought. It
came to her because she was gracious and affectionate, of a generous
nature, above petty slanders, petty gossips, petty desires. Life had
always been rich and plentiful for her, she possessed abundant health,
excellent spirits, and a sunny temper not easily ruffled; she was
sympathetic, too, and although, in mind and nature she was many steps
above the girls with whom she associated, she was really unconscious of
this difference and gave herself no superior airs. A companion who would
have been her equal, whose intellect would have sharpened hers, whose
spirit would have matched her own, whose refinement would have delighted
and whose affection would have been something to revel in, she had never
hitherto known.
Unconscious of her loss she had not deplored it. It was not until she
and Catherine Bertram had flashed a look of delight and sympathy at one
another that she first felt stirring within her breast the wings of a
new desire. For the first time she felt unsatisfied and incomplete. She
scarcely knew that she thirsted for Catherine, but this was so.
Catherine awakened all sorts of new emotions in her heart. She had spent
a delightful day with the Bertrams, and hurried home now in the highest
spirits.
In the High Street she met three girls, whose names were Matty, Alice,
and Sophy Bell. Their father was a retired coal merchant. There was
scarcely any active trade down in Northbury, almost all the inhabitants
having retired to live there on their fortunes. The Bells were small,
rather thickly-made girls, with round faces and round eyes. They always
dressed alike, and one was never seen without the other two. They
generally walked through the streets with their arms linked, and each
one echoed the sentiments of the other, so that the effect produced was
a sense of medley and multiplicity.
To such an extent was this felt that the three girls were spoken of by
the wits of the town as the "four-and-twenty Miss Bells." They adored
Beatrice, and bore down upon her now in a neat phalanx.
"Delighted to see you, Bee!" exclaimed Matty.
"Delighted!" echoed Alice.
"Lighted!" exclaimed Sophy.
"Where have you been?" began Matty, again.
Beatrice told. While she spoke, three pairs of lips were raised for a
salute.
People kissed in the streets or anywhere at Northbury.
"You were with those Bertrams! Those _rude_ Bertrams! Oh, fascinating--"
"Fascinating--"
"Nating," burst from the three.
"Tell us about them, darling!" exclaimed one.
"Tell us!" said the other.
"--Us"--gasped the third.
Beatrice narrated her morning adventure with some spirit, praised her
new friends, defended them from any score of rudeness, and altogether
conjured up an interesting picture of them.
The Bells turned to walk with her. Matty hung on one arm, Alice on
another, Sophy hopped backwards in front. Before she quite knew that she
meant to do so, Beatrice had asked the Bells to join the tennis party
that evening. They accepted the invitation rapturously.
"Might Polly and Daisy Jenkins come too, and might Polly's brother come,
and if they met Mr. Jones, the curate--Mr. Jones did so love
tennis--might _he_ come?"
"Is the brother an officer in the real army?" inquired Matty.
"Real army--"
"Army--" echoed the others
Beatrice was able to assure them that Captain Bertram had nothing
spurious about him.
"I'll see you at seven," she added, nodding to her companions. "Yes, you
can bring the Jenkinses and the boys, and Mr. Jones. I really must hurry
home now."
She reached the Gray House, found her mother nodding, as usual, in her
great easy-chair, and told her what she had done.
"I met the Bertrams on the water, and had lunch with them, and they are
coming to tennis to-night, and to supper afterwards, mother," she said.
Mrs. Meadowsweet always approved of her daughter's doings. She approved
now, nodding her kind old head, and raising her face with a smile.
"Quite right, Trixie," she said. "How many Bertrams are there? Is Mrs.
Bertram coming? If so, I had better put on my cap with the Honiton
lace."
"Mrs. Bertram is not coming, mother, but you must put on your best cap
all the same. Mrs. Bertram is from home. It was the girls I met this
morning--the girls, and their brother, Captain Bertram."
"Oh, well, child, if they are all young folk the cap with Maltese lace
will do. I don't wear Honiton, except for those who know."
"Mother, I thought we might have supper in the garden. The weather is so
lovely now, and it is quite light at half-past eight. Shall I give the
order, and take all the trouble off you?"
Mrs. Meadowsweet rose with a slight effort to her feet.
"Do you think I am going to let you be worried, child?" she said. "No,
no, what good is the old mother if she can't manage a thing of that
sort? Of course you shall have supper in the garden, and a good supper,
too. I am glad you have asked your friends, Bee. How well and bright you
look. I am very glad you have made nice friends at last, child."
"All my friends are nice, mother, at least I think so. By the way, I met
the little Bells, and they were dying to come, so I asked them, and they
said perhaps they would bring the Jenkinses, and Mr. Jones, and of
course, the boys will drop in."
"My word, child, but that's quite a party! I had better send out at once
for a salmon, and two or three lobsters and some crabs. There's cream
enough in the house, and eggs, and plenty of stuff in the garden for
salads. Oh, I'll manage, I'll manage fine. I got in a couple of chickens
and a pair of ducks this morning; I'll warrant that your grand friends
have enough to eat, Trixie. But now I must go and have a talk with
Jane."