SEÑORITA
“So, sir,” Blue Bonnet pointed a warning forefinger at the upright
Solomon, “remember, this is the day when Aunt Lucinda expects
everyone--particularly, small brown dogs and nieces from Texas--to do
their duty! The Boston relatives are coming. I can’t exactly explain
all that stands for, Solomon; but I am quite sure it means that they
are to be taken seriously--very seriously; and I’m afraid, old fellow,
that taking folks seriously isn’t our long suit.”
Solomon looked distinctly bored; here was the eventful day, and though
the morning was well along, there was still no sign of dinner--outside
of the kitchen, that is; and Solomon had found, to his pained surprise,
that the attitude of the kitchen was, on this morning of all mornings,
decidedly discouraging to a small dog.
“Dinner’s to be at three,” Blue Bonnet went on; “you needn’t sit up any
longer, sir.”
Solomon availed himself of this permission gladly, pricking up his ears
at the mention of dinner; the subject began to get interesting.
“But the relatives come on the noon train--there are three of them,
Solomon; Cousin Tracy Winthrop, Cousin Honoria Winthrop, and Cousin
Augusta Winthrop! It sounds a bit alarming, doesn’t it? And oh,
Solomon!” Blue Bonnet scrambled to her feet. “I haven’t done a thing to
my room yet, and I’m to go to ride with Uncle Cliff directly.”
Solomon tiptoed upstairs behind her, rejoicing in the fact that it was
not a school day, and that there was a ride in prospect.
“Excepting Saturdays and Sundays, this is the first holiday I’ve had
since starting school,” Blue Bonnet told him. “Oh me, did you ever see
such a room!”
Sitting full in a spot of sunshine, Solomon listened and watched
operations, blinking at the rapidity with which his young mistress went
from one thing to another.
Miss Lucinda had not yet been able to make Blue Bonnet realize the
advisability of putting things as much as possible in order over night.
“I’d give a good bit to see Benita come walking in that door just about
now!” Blue Bonnet declared, giving the bedspread a smoothing touch.
“But it won’t be Benita, it’ll be Aunt Lucinda. And what do you think
she’ll say at finding you in possession, young man?”
Solomon’s manner implied that he willingly shifted all responsibility
on to her shoulders.
“I wonder what I’d’ve been like now--supposing I had been sent East
years ago--as Aunt Lucinda wanted?” Blue Bonnet said.
Before her companion had time to consider this, Miss Lucinda appeared.
“Solomon!” Blue Bonnet commanded, “your manners!”
Solomon advanced, holding up a paw politely.
Miss Lucinda took it, then she looked at Solomon’s mistress. “I draw
the line at my room, Blue Bonnet.”
“Thank you so much, Aunt Lucinda, for not drawing it--any closer. You
hear that, Solomon?”
“To hear is not always to obey, with Solomon,” Aunt Lucinda commented.
“Your uncle is waiting for you, Blue Bonnet.”
“I won’t be a jiffy now!” Blue Bonnet went to the closet for her habit.
“Fortunately, Uncle Cliff never seems to mind my keeping him waiting; I
reckon he’s used to it.”
“I should call that very unfortunate, my dear; not to say, wanting in
proper respect to Mr. Ashe.”
Blue Bonnet looked amazed. “I never thought of it in that way!”
“Uncle Cliff,” she asked, as they cantered briskly off down the drive,
Solomon pelting along behind, “_do_ you mind my keeping you waiting?”
“I’ve always supposed it was the way with women--young or old.”
“Then you do mind! Why didn’t you say so? Have you thought it ‘lacking
in proper respect,’ too?”
“Bless your heart, no, indeed! Is that what you’ve been looking so
sober over, Honey?”
But Blue Bonnet continued to look sober. “There’s such a lot to what
Grandmother calls ‘one’s duty to one’s neighbor.’ Do you reckon I’ll
ever be able to learn it all?”
“I don’t see how your mother’s daughter could very well help it, Honey.”
Blue Bonnet stroked the mare’s neck thoughtfully, looking out across
the bare fields, a wistful look in her eyes--“I wonder why mothers and
fathers have to--go away? One needs them so. I’m not forgetting,” she
turned to Mr. Ashe, “how I have you, and Grandmother, and Aunt Lucinda,
only--”
“I understand, Blue Bonnet.”
Blue Bonnet was looking out over the fields again; they looked gray and
deserted, and the wind blowing across them was bleak and raw. Along the
hills the clouds lay thick and lowering; Denham prophesied snow before
another twenty-four hours. The few sparrows hopping forlornly from
fence to fence had their feathers all ruffled the wrong way.
It was all very dreary, Blue Bonnet thought; and to-morrow Uncle Cliff
would be off to New York without her, and in just a little while longer
he would be going back to the ranch without her.
Blue Bonnet gave herself an impatient shake; her immediate duty to
her immediate neighbor hardly consisted in spoiling his ride for him.
“Don’t you want to give me a good old Texas run, Uncle Cliff?”
“And have folks think we’re being run away with, Honey?”
“There isn’t anyone around--I reckon they’re all home either getting
the turkey ready, or getting ready for the turkey. And if there was, it
wouldn’t matter.” Blue Bonnet gave the mare the word; the next instant
she was off, laughing back at him over her shoulder.
“She’s almost as good as Firefly, isn’t she?” she asked, as her uncle
caught up with her.
“She’s a pretty decent little horse, all right.”
“I wish she had a regular name. Darrel just calls her Pet,--and Lady.”
“Why don’t you name her?”
“I shall--now that Darrel’s going to let me have her right along. I’m
glad you’ve seen to that.”
“Yes, I’ve seen to that. Don’t you want another scamper, Honey?”
Blue Bonnet pointed with her whip at a square white stone by the side
of the road. “Do you see that?”
“The milestone?”
“Do you see how many miles it says we are from Woodford? And I promised
to be in by half-past one at the latest! Indeed I do want a run--but
it’ll have to be in the direction of home. It must be original sin,
and nothing less, that always sets me traveling whenever it’s most
necessary I should be at home.”
“Don’t you worry, we’ll get there in time,” Mr. Ashe promised; and they
did get back just as the tall clock in the hall was striking the half
hour.
From the sitting-room came the murmur of voices. “The Boston
relatives,” Blue Bonnet whispered, her finger on her lips, and beckoned
Solomon back, as he was trotting on in, on hospitable thoughts intent.
“We must make ourselves presentable first,” she told him.
On her bed, Blue Bonnet found her white serge laid out ready; she
hadn’t worn it yet. It was next to the red she had given away--the
prettiest of her new gowns.
“You see, sir,” she confided to Solomon, “this is an Occasion--with a
big O.”
But standing before the glass to unbraid her hair, Blue Bonnet had what
she considered a sudden inspiration.
The next moment, she was kneeling on her closet floor, diving eagerly
into the big box, where she kept certain of her most treasured
possessions. “Solomon Clyde Ashe!” she cried, excitedly, “I’ve such a
surprise in store for them!”
Fifteen minutes later when Delia knocked at her door, Blue Bonnet
resolutely declined to open it. “I’ll be down presently,” she said
through the keyhole.
“But Miss Clyde told me, miss--”
“I don’t need any help, thank you, Delia!” Blue Bonnet insisted.
“But your aunt said I was to--”
“I’m getting on beautifully! Please go away, Delia. And--Delia, please
don’t--say anything.”
Delia hesitated; there was mystery and, it was to be feared, mischief
in the very air. “It’s past two now, Miss Blue Bonnet! And Miss Clyde
said--she--she’ll be wanting you to look your best, I’m thinking.”
“I’ll look--you’ll see how I’ll look!”
Which was cold comfort in Delia’s opinion. She retired, in much
uneasiness of mind, to the kitchen, devoutly hoping Miss Lucinda would
not invade those premises.
“’Deed and she do be big enough to dress herself,” Katie comforted, not
referring, however, to Miss Lucinda.
“’Tis up to something she is!” Delia declared.
Katie gave the big turkey an affectionate glance before closing
the oven door. “Did you ever see such a beauty! And cooking like a
Christian! Leave off worrying, Delia; ’tis no harm she’s up to!”
The tall clock in the hall was striking half-past two when Blue Bonnet
came downstairs. Grandmother, wondering a little anxiously why she did
not come, caught the soft swish of skirts.
It seemed to Grandmother that she took an unusually long time to cross
the short space between the foot of the stairs and the sitting-room
door; then all at once, she gave a little gasp of astonishment.
Standing in the doorway, in quaint, old-fashioned, red satin gown,
with high-heeled satin slippers, and stockings to match, a black lace
mantilla thrown lightly over the hair, dressed high, with a great
carved Spanish comb, a red rose showing coquettishly above the left
ear, on her slender fingers two or three Mexican rings in old-time
setting, and around her throat a string of heavy gold beads, Blue
Bonnet bore as little resemblance to the white-clad figure Grandmother
had been expecting to see as she did to the laughing, bare-headed girl
who had come rushing up the drive little more than an hour before, her
hair flying in the wind.
For a moment no one in the room stirred or spoke, then Mr. Ashe cried
delightedly, “Why Honey!”
The “Boston relatives” looked from Grandmother to Aunt Lucinda, from
Aunt Lucinda to the demure-faced figure in the doorway. They had been
prepared for a mere schoolgirl--someone very like what her mother had
been at her age. It was difficult to imagine Elizabeth Clyde in such a
costume as that.
Grandmother made the introductions. Aunt Lucinda was still asking
herself why, oh, why she had not taken possession of that costume upon
Blue Bonnet’s first showing it to her?
Then the General and Alec came in, creating a diversion for which Blue
Bonnet, who was feeling rather breathless, for all her brave showing,
was truly grateful.
“My dear young lady,” General Trent turned to her, after paying his
respects to the rest--“or, I should say, _Señorita_?--this is a
surprise!”
“To all of us, General,” Mrs. Clyde said. “On the whole, I think I like
it.”
Blue Bonnet came to rest a hand on her grandmother’s shoulder. “Truly,
Grandmother?” she asked softly. “I--hoped you would.”
“Isn’t she stunning!” Alec exclaimed.
When Delia came to announce dinner a few moments later, she broke off
suddenly in the middle of her sentence--much to her own confusion--to
stare open-eyed at Blue Bonnet.
“If you could see her!” she said to Katie, escaping as soon as might
be to the kitchen. “Sitting there like a picture--and that innocent!
For all the world as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth! ‘And please
don’t say anything,’ says she to me--and well she might! I’d like to be
knowing what her aunt do be thinking of such goings-on this minute.”
“I’m after thinking,” Katie remarked wisely, “that the mistress herself
do be enjoying the bit of a lark with the best of them. Sure and it
isn’t the same house, since the darlin’ came.”
Meanwhile, Blue Bonnet found herself placed between the eldest of those
“Boston relatives” and Alec. She had never seen anyone before quite
like this elderly gentleman, whom it seemed almost disrespectful to
call “Cousin Tracy,” even though he had told her to.
He should have looked old, but he didn’t; she supposed he was what Aunt
Lucinda called “well preserved”; and she wondered, a dancing light in
her eyes, if perhaps he was not looking upon her as being something of
a “pickle.”
“Mayn’t I share the good thought, _Señorita_?” Mr. Winthrop asked.
Blue Bonnet looked confused. This was what came of letting one’s
thoughts run away with one before people.
“Do you know,” she said, hurriedly, “this is my first real New England
Thanksgiving.”
“Was that the reason you appeared in Spanish costume?”
“You asked that just the way Aunt Lucinda asks things sometimes! It
must be a Boston fashion.”
“Possibly. And how are you enjoying your ‘New England Thanksgiving’?”
Blue Bonnet looked thoughtfully up and down the long table, with
Grandmother at the head and Aunt Lucinda at the foot. The shades had
been drawn and the only light came from the wax candles in the tall
silver candelabra on table and mantel. They cast a soft, mellow light
about the room and over the perfectly appointed table, in the centre
of which stood the best Blue Canton bowl, filled with great, tawny
chrysanthemums.
“I like it,” she said slowly, finding it hard to express her feeling;
“it is so--homey and--familified. I like to think of how many
Thanksgiving dinners must have been held in this very room--I don’t
mean just the dinner part--anyone can have turkey and such things--but
the way in which it has been done--like to-day. And it is nice to be
part Clyde, isn’t it?”
“Very; though it is an honor I can lay no claim to.”
Blue Bonnet laughed; she liked Cousin Tracy, he treated her as if she
were quite grown-up. “But the Winthrops are--” she hesitated.
“We think they--are. But we have been accused of being over
proud--where family is concerned.”
Blue Bonnet waited to exchange a smile with Uncle Cliff, seated
opposite between Cousin Honoria and Cousin Augusta, and apparently
getting on very well with them both. “Grandmother was a Winthrop,” she
said, then,--“and it’s Aunt Lucinda’s middle name. Names count for a
good deal back here, don’t they?”
“Or what they stand for.”
“Ashe stands for a good deal out in Texas.”
“See here!” Alec protested in an undertone, “I didn’t think you were
the sort to go back on an old friend.”
“I thought you were talking to Aunt Lucinda,” Blue Bonnet answered.
“If not the rose--you know the rest!”
“Did you tell Aunt Lucinda that?”
“I’d be so apt to.”
“Alec, do you realize how long we have been sitting here? I’m getting
dreadfully tired, aren’t you? I wish grandmother would announce fifteen
minutes for recess, and insist--like the ‘rankin’ officer’ does--on our
all getting out into the fresh air.”
“For a game of tag? I can imagine your elderly relative seconding the
motion!”
“A little motion would do him and us all a lot of good. He’s really
awfully nice, Alec; and he hasn’t once asked me how I like Woodford.
I’m so tired of answering that question; I’ve even thought of getting
my answer printed on little slips of paper and handing one to every new
person I meet.”
“Oh, but there’s time yet! The turkey is just going off, having gone
off considerably--before going off. And experience teaches me that
there is more to follow.”
“I begin to understand why Thanksgiving is kept only _once_ a year.”
“Why, _Señorita_?” the General asked, overhearing the remark.
“It is so perfectly lovely to be called ‘_Señorita!_’” Blue Bonnet
assured him; “I haven’t been called that since Benita said good-bye to
me, until to-day.”
“But you haven’t answered General Trent’s question, Blue Bonnet,” Miss
Lucinda reminded her.
“I--was trying not to, Aunt Lucinda!” Blue Bonnet answered.
There was a laugh, then the General said, “I withdraw it, _Señorita_,”
and the talk drifted off to other things.
“Break number two,” Blue Bonnet confided to Alec.
“People shouldn’t ask questions,” he comforted her,--“unexpected
questions like that.”
“N--no,” Blue Bonnet agreed. “Sometimes I think it ought to be--‘elders
should be seen and not heard.’”
At last came desert, with the nuts and raisins; Mrs. Clyde, taking pity
on Blue Bonnet, suggested that the young people take theirs off to the
back parlor.
“Isn’t Grandmother the dearest!” Blue Bonnet said, as she and Alec
settled themselves in two big chairs before the fire.
“She’s all right!” Alec answered. “I’ve a piece of news for you, my
lady.”
Blue Bonnet caught the almonds he tossed her. “Good?”
“I’ve a cousin coming to stay with us; he’s been at school in New York
and--”
“I’m glad; he’s a he!”
“Could a ‘_he_’ be a _she_?”
“Because--there are such a lot of ‘she’s’ in Woodford!”
“The female population of Massachusetts is--”
“A good deal in evidence,” Blue Bonnet interpolated. “What’s your
cousin’s name?”
“Boyd Trent. His people are going abroad--he’s to stay here until
summer.”
“And go to school with you?”
“Yes.”
“How old is he?”
“Three or four months younger than ‘yours truly.’”
“Then he’ll come between you and me.”
“I hope not.”
“As far as age goes--I don’t see how you can help it.” It seemed to
Blue Bonnet, thinking it over afterwards, that Alec showed very little
enthusiasm over his cousin’s coming. At the time, however, she hardly
noticed it.
Going to the piano, she began playing snatches of old Spanish songs,
in which one caught the tinkling of the guitar,--the gay sound of the
castanets. But presently, she slipped gradually off into softer, more
plaintive music. Music, it seemed to Alec, that must have been written
by some exile, longing for the home he had left.
Blue Bonnet had quite forgotten him; when at last he spoke to her, and
she turned to answer, it was to find her audience considerably enlarged.
“You are not going to stop, _Señorita_?” the General asked. He was not
the only one to find both playing and player attractive.
Mrs. Clyde’s eyes were turned upon the slender, brilliantly clad,
little figure opposite with an expression in them that made Miss
Lucinda sigh softly to herself.
Between them all, they kept her there playing for them until Cousin
Honoria declared it was quite unfair--the poor child would be tired out.
“But when you come to stay with us in Boston,” Cousin Augusta added,
“we shall want you to play for us again. You will come for a week end
some-time--even if we are all old people? We will try not to have it
too dull for you. Tracy will show you his collections--he has several
very fine collections.”
“I’d love to,” Blue Bonnet answered; she came to sit between the two
little gentlewomen on the old-fashioned high-backed davenport. They
were not in the least formidable; she thought she should like them very
much.
Then she leaned forward with one of her eager movements; the talk had
suddenly turned on Texas; Mr. Ashe was telling of ranch life out there.
Closing her eyes, Blue Bonnet could almost fancy herself back in the
big ranch house living-room. How the wind would be howling about the
weather-stained house to-night. And how lonesome Uncle Joe Terry and
Benita must be without Uncle Cliff and her.
It occurred to Blue Bonnet that she had not given much thought to that
side of the question. She would write a good long letter to them both
to-morrow, telling them all about her day, and how she had worn her
Spanish dress, and how everyone liked Uncle Cliff so much.
It was later that Cousin Tracy asked--as the good nights were being
said--“By the way, _Señorita_, you have not told me how you like our
East?”
“Did you put him up to it?” Blue Bonnet demanded, cornering Alec.
“Not I,” the boy laughed.
“At least he didn’t say ‘Woodford.’ But why did he call it ‘our East’?”
“Ask him,” Alec advised.
“Solomon,” Blue Bonnet remarked, when Alec and the General had gone,
and she was paying her good night visit to the basket under the back
stairs where Solomon slept, “I hope you have enjoyed your Thanksgiving
as much as I have mine.”
Solomon, who had fared less wisely than too well, grunted sleepily;
Solomon felt that the only fault to be found with Thanksgiving was that
it did not come oftener.
Cousin Honoria and Cousin Augusta had gone upstairs; their brother was
taking a short turn on the veranda with Mr. Ashe. Blue Bonnet went into
the sitting-room, where Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda lingered, talking
over the events of the day.
“And how,” Grandmother asked, “have you enjoyed your ‘first real New
England Thanksgiving’?”
“Immensely!” Blue Bonnet answered.
“It is the first for me that has not been entirely ‘New England.’” Mrs.
Clyde’s glance rested on Blue Bonnet’s dress.
“But you said you liked it?”
Grandmother’s smile was reassuring.
Blue Bonnet turned to her aunt. “And--?” Aunt Lucinda had not expressed
her opinion as yet; Blue Bonnet hoped she had not been holding it in
reserve.
“I think we have all had a very pleasant day--though it has held its
surprises--for some of us,” Miss Lucinda said.
“I don’t know why I did it!” Blue Bonnet explained, “I just took the
notion, I suppose. I’m afraid Benita would think I had done my hair up
very badly--she’s always done it for me before. And I should have worn
the earrings--I have them, great gold ones, with pearl pendants--but
I’ve never had my ears pierced; papa didn’t like it. Benita used to tie
them for me, so one could hardly tell--but I hadn’t the patience--nor
the time.”
Miss Lucinda felt that the day had held its unknown blessings--they
had been spared the earrings. “I think the costume was quite complete
enough without the earrings,” she said.
“I won’t wear any of it again, if you’d rather not,” Blue Bonnet
offered, always ready to meet Aunt Lucinda halfway.
“Suppose we say, not without consulting your grandmother or me. And
now,--suppose we say good night--_Señorita_.”
“I believe in my heart,” Blue Bonnet told her reflection in the glass,
“that she really and truly liked it! I know the Boston relatives did.
Poor dears!”
And in her own room, Miss Lucinda was owning to herself that the day,
for one reason or another, had been different from all the long line of
Thanksgivings stretching out behind her.
“Mother,” she said, coming to the half-open door between their
rooms, “I’ve been thinking--how would it be to give Blue Bonnet a
party--during Christmas week?”
“As a reward of merit?” Mrs. Clyde asked.
“Elizabeth used always to have her Christmas party,” Miss Lucinda
answered. “We have not entertained, in that way, since she went West.”