CONCERNING THE SARGENT
To go into a thing half-heartedly was not Blue Bonnet’s fashion; before
she was half-way to Woodford she was deep in plans for her paper. It
should not be hard, just to tell the story of The Alamo, as her father
used to tell it to her. She must find out about that Woodford man, but
there were any amount of old record books at the Woodford Library;
Alec had shown them to her one afternoon,--she had thought them very
dull-looking.
No one else would have thought of this subject; and she would say
nothing about it to anyone--not even at home--until her paper was
finished. Then Grandmother should be allowed to see it before it was
handed in.
It was mighty good of her and Aunt Lucinda not to have bothered
her about it; perhaps--Blue Bonnet straightened herself at the
thought--they had not considered it worth while,--had been sure that in
spite of her protestations she would come around in the end.
“They came near being disappointed,” she said to herself; “if Cousin
Tracy hadn’t given me such a good subject, I shouldn’t be going to
try.”
Alec was waiting when the train drew into the Woodford station; “I
thought Bruce and the cart would make better time than Peter and the
phaeton,” he explained. “You don’t want to start the week being late to
school, I suppose? So they did get you off in time?”
“They didn’t have to ‘get’ me; I met all their efforts more than
half-way. I’ve had a beautiful time--and I hope Woodford’s missed me a
little bit?”
“Some of it has. Mind you don’t go and do it again.”
“I may not get the opportunity.”
Alec was not the only one glad to see her; as for Solomon, he was all
over her, before she was well out of the cart. There was only time to
kiss Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda, before snatching up her school-books.
“Well!” Kitty demanded, waiting for her at the parsonage gate with
Sarah; “I hope you’re glad to get back.”
“Even if I were not, I hope I am too polite to say so,” Blue Bonnet
laughed, falling into step. Going to and coming from school was fun; it
was the staying there that was apt to prove irksome.
She did not go directly home from school that afternoon; instead,
she turned off in the direction of the Library, standing well back
from the street in its own square of green. It had been easy to put
Sarah and Amanda off; the rest of the club were busy “making up”
these afternoons. It seemed to Blue Bonnet, that, on the whole, it
was Miss Fellows who was paying the penalty for the fourteen’s act of
insubordination.
Once at the Library, Blue Bonnet hurried to the little room at one
side, devoted to the books concerning local history. There was no one
else there, though the reading-room was filling fast with pupils on
Sargent thoughts intent. Standing before the rows of musty-looking old
volumes, Blue Bonnet gave an impatient thought to the originator of so
much trouble. It was positively wicked to waste such a glorious Spring
afternoon indoors. Perhaps, if she hurried there would still be time
for a ride.
Blue Bonnet found that it was not going to be as easy to keep her
secret as she had thought, neither at home nor at school. Some of the
fourteen had already been granted the longed-for permission, and on
the big board up at the front of the assembly-room, the list of papers
turned in--including titles and names of competitors--was lengthening
daily.
“I think,” Blue Bonnet confided one afternoon to Chula, as they started
briskly off down the drive, “that I’ll begin to write mine on Saturday
morning; I’ve got all the dates and details about ready.”
At the sound of quick steps behind her, she looked around. “Two is
company, you know,” Boyd said, riding up beside her; “I hope you are
in a mood for company--present company, at that.”
“Then you don’t call a horse and dog company?”
“Do you?”
“Certainly, and very good company.” Blue Bonnet leaned forward to pat
Victor; they had become good friends since that ride together last
October. “You’ve been riding Victor too hard--again,” she added, with
sudden severity.
“Victor has been spoiled ridiculously. He and I have been having a bit
of an argument.”
Blue Bonnet’s eyes flashed; “He is not spoiled; but he is used to his
owner.”
“He will get used to me--after a while; he’s been learning a thing or
two lately.”
By way of answer, Blue Bonnet wheeled Chula around towards home. She
knew now _why_ she had not liked Boyd Trent; underneath that smiling,
easy politeness were selfishness and cruelty.
Boyd turned too; she was a queer girl, but she was interesting,--which
was more than could be said for some of her friends,--and she rode
well. “Are you always so extremely sociable?” he asked.
Blue Bonnet flushed; Aunt Lucinda would say that she had been showing
her dislike too plainly. “I was thinking of--something,” she said; “I
suppose you are looking forward to summer?” After all, he was even more
of a newcomer in Woodford than she was, and he hadn’t half as many
friends; even if one were horrid, one might have feelings like other
people.
“Well, rather!” Boyd laughed; “I’ve seen livelier spots.”
“Don’t you like it at the academy?”
“Slow like all the rest of the place.” He pulled out a note-book; “I’ll
show you some snap-shots of my school at home.”
Blue Bonnet brought Chula nearer; the snap-shots though small were
clear, and the bits of school-life they gave interested her. She
decided that she would like a camera; she would like some Woodford
views to take back to the ranch.
“Did you take these?” she asked.
“Yes,” Boyd answered. “I’ll overhaul the camera, and we’ll go
picture-hunting some Saturday morning.” He was returning the views to
his note-book, and, as he spoke, some papers fell from it to the ground.
“One would think you were taking notes for a book--” Blue Bonnet began,
then she stopped. They _were_ notes, and they were all in Alec’s
handwriting.
Boyd had slipped down from his horse, and was gathering the slips of
paper up hurriedly; he looked confused, Blue Bonnet thought.
The little incident came back to her the next morning, as Kitty drew
her to a standstill before the bulletin board in the assembly-room.
“Three more names,” Kitty commented; “they’re coming in fast. Why,
there’s Boyd Trent’s. I didn’t know he meant to try; it not being the
regulation thing, apparently, for outsiders to do.”
Blue Bonnet let the little dig pass; she was bending to read the title
of Boyd’s paper--“The After Stories of Some Sargent Winners.” Suddenly,
Blue Bonnet saw again the little pile of papers lying in the dusty
road, and Boyd’s face as he bent to pick them up.
“What’s the matter?” Kitty asked; “Are you beginning to repent? It’s
not too late even yet! Billy’s still on the tenterhooks,--I think Mr.
Hunt might temper judgment with mercy a little more quickly,--and if
there’s time for Billy Slade to get up a paper, there’s time enough for
you. Nothing happening, you’ll be reading Katherine Clark’s name there
before many days.”
“Come on!” Blue Bonnet said. “No, I’m not beginning to repent; I’ve
always understood that it was a very uncomfortable process to go
through with.” Her thoughts were in a whirl. Had Boyd really taken
Alec’s--She couldn’t think that.
She thought about it all during opening exercises; also, all through
the Latin recitation afterwards, with the result that she failed twice
on questions that she knew quite as well as the girl next her who
answered them so glibly.
“So like the dear old days!” Kitty murmured provokingly; and Blue
Bonnet decided to put the matter out of her thoughts until after
school. Just what she intended to do then, was not clear to her; she
could hardly go to Boyd and accuse him of--that.
She wouldn’t ride that afternoon; Boyd would probably have Victor--she
wished General Trent knew how seldom Alec had the use of his own horse
nowadays; she and Alec would go for a walk, and--
“Elizabeth!” Miss Fellows said, “I am afraid that you are not attending
to the matter in hand.”
“But I’m going to, really and truly!” Blue Bonnet promised, with an
earnestness not all for Miss Fellows. “Mind you do,” she told herself,
“or there won’t be any time for walking _this_ afternoon.”
“No, I can’t go home with you!” she assured Kitty after school. “I
can’t go home with any of you girls! Yes, there is something on, Little
Miss Why; but I am not going to tell you what it is.”
Kitty looked impatient; “You’re the greatest girl for wrapping yourself
up in mysteries!”
“I’m not!” Blue Bonnet answered; “but little girls mustn’t ask
impertinent questions; good-bye, I’ll see you to-morrow morning.”
“Or before--perhaps,” Kitty retorted. “As I take the notion.”
Blue Bonnet found Alec reading on the side piazza; he _was_ looking
troubled about something, she told herself. “If you don’t mind, I would
like to follow our brook this afternoon,” she said.
“And I am to follow you?”
“It would be more sociable if we kept together.”
They went out across the back meadow, the dogs leaping and barking on
ahead, just as they had that August afternoon. A good deal had happened
in the eight months since, Blue Bonnet thought; it did not seem as if
any other eight months could ever bring so many new experiences; she
felt considerably more than eight months older.
“What are you looking so sober over?” Alec asked.
“A great many things.”
They had reached the brook, and turning they followed it back along
the way it had come until the woods were reached; here they went more
slowly. The April woods were too lovely to be hurried through, Blue
Bonnet thought, with the light falling soft and shimmering through the
young green of the trees, and the Spring beauties making a delicate
border for the brook, which laughed and splashed over the stones, as if
it knew that at last the long winter were gone for good.
“Let’s go up to our old picnic place,” Blue Bonnet suggested, and they
came at last to the open space where they had lunched that afternoon,
with, it would seem, the very same squirrel eying them askance from
the upper bough of a tall tree.
“Isn’t it nice here!” Blue Bonnet leaned back against the moss-covered
trunk of an old tree. “Why couldn’t we come out here for school! It
would be much more sensible!”
“From your point of view!”
Blue Bonnet passed a hand lovingly over the pink and white beauties
which seemed to be smiling up at her. “And isn’t it good that at last
all the fourteen can try for the Sargent? Billy got his discharge
papers this noon.”
“I thought Mr. Hunt would prove amenable.”
“How soon do you send your paper in?” Blue Bonnet was picking a knot of
the flowers for her blouse and did not look up; she hoped her question
sounded sufficiently casual.
“I--oh, I’ve decided to follow your example.”
“You mean you’ve given up trying?”
“Sounds that way, doesn’t it?” Alec was looking straight ahead of him;
there was a little pucker between his brows.
Blue Bonnet seemed for the moment to be giving _her_ attention to her
flowers. It was just as she had expected; by some means, evidently not
fair ones, Boyd must have secured Alec’s notes and used them. Of course
she had not liked him--he was selfish and cruel and mean! And she would
have to pretend not to know, unless Alec made some sign, which he
would not--she wasn’t good at pretending.
[Illustration: “‘BUT I THOUGHT,’ SHE SAID, ‘THAT IT WAS A GIRL’S
PRIVILEGE TO CHANGE HER MIND?’”]
“But I thought,” she said, “that it was a _girl’s_ privilege to change
her mind?”
“Mayn’t we borrow one of your privileges occasionally? You borrow some
of ours. Besides, I won a prize last year--suppose I should do it
again, wouldn’t too much glory be bad for a fellow?”
“Aunt Lucinda won it three times running when she was a girl.”
“Yes, but she was--Miss Lucinda! Come to think of it, my lady, you are
not precisely in a position to lecture me for not trying.”
“But I--” Blue Bonnet caught herself up; “I don’t want to lecture
anyone--to-day,” she ended, and leaning back again she looked
thoughtfully up at the soft stretch of blue showing between the tree
tops.
She wished Alec would up and fight Boyd on his own ground! But then,
Boyd had stolen his ammunition. Good subjects for the Sargent were not
lying around waiting to be picked up; no wonder, when one remembered
all the papers that had been written since the originating of the
competition.
Blue Bonnet caught her breath; suppose--
But he would not take her subject. Very well, he would have to be
managed. She could not help feeling a very real sense of regret. She
had meant to begin writing her paper to-morrow morning; she had become
honestly interested in the doing of it, and she was looking forward to
Grandmother’s and Aunt Lucinda’s surprise and pleasure when she told
them. As for the girls--
Fortunately, she had said nothing about it. There would not be time to
hunt up another subject; besides, she didn’t want any other, she knew
how Alec felt about that; still, she was offering him a really new
idea. It was the manner of offering it that was troubling her now.
“We aren’t very talkative, are we?” she said.
“We don’t seem to be,” Alec agreed.
“Shall I tell you about Cousin Tracy’s medals? He has a fine
collection;” and presently she had him interested in the short accounts
Mr. Winthrop had given her, introducing--much as he had done--the
subject of the Alamo, and the fact that the father of one of its heroes
had been a Woodford man.
“I never knew that,” Alec said.
“I’m glad, somehow,--so long as I belong to both places,--that Woodford
can claim a share in the Alamo.” And Blue Bonnet went on to tell the
story as her father used to tell it to her; seeing, and making Alec see
the tragic drama enacted there in that little church near San Antonio
during those memorable three weeks; the struggle, the heroic courage,
the no less heroic endurance of the men, who, like the Old Guard,
could die, but would not surrender.
“I don’t wonder your Texans took ‘Remember the Alamo’ for their war-cry
afterwards!” Alec said. There was an eager light in the boy’s gray
eyes; he had not come of a race of soldiers for nothing.
He was not much more talkative going home than he had been coming,
but from a different reason, Blue Bonnet felt sure; and she lingered
a moment on the porch, watching him cross the lawn after saying good
night. “Will he, or won’t he, Solomon?” she asked.
As she came up the drive the next afternoon, after her ride with the
club, Alec came to meet her. “See here,” he said, stroking the head
Chula stretched towards him, “I’ve been thinking--”
“Did it come hard?” Blue Bonnet laughed.
“I’ll settle that score later! We’ll stick to business now, if you
please. My New England thrift makes me hate to see good material going
to waste.”
“He will do it!” Blue Bonnet told herself. “Then why not prevent it?”
she asked.
“Don’t _you_ feel an inner call to turn that Alamo business into a
Sargent?”
Blue Bonnet stroked Chula’s mane thoughtfully; “No,” she answered, “I
don’t think I do;” and to herself, she added, that she didn’t--now.
“I’ve a notion that if you don’t do something of the sort your Woodford
relatives will be a bit disappointed.”
“They might be more disappointed if I did.”
“Then you are _quite_ sure?”
“Perfectly.”
“In that case--it’s such splendid material, I really don’t see how you
have strength to let it alone--I believe I’ll change my mind a second
time.”
“You may; only don’t get into the habit--and change it again,” Blue
Bonnet warned.
“I won’t,” Alec promised; “I’m going straight to work. I’m no end
obliged to you for telling that story; it’s the best subject ever.”
* * * * *
Spring came early that year, and no one rejoiced more in its coming
than Blue Bonnet. Now that the winter was over, she began to realize
how long it had seemed; and, as the days went by, Miss Fellows began
to realize with equal vividness something of what Miss Rankin had gone
through with last fall.
There was no wilful breaking of rules, Blue Bonnet had not forgotten
her promise, but there was much inward rebellion and outward struggle,
resulting in more or less inattention during school hours. Blue
Bonnet’s eyes would wander again and again to the window, her thoughts
drifting even further afield. The remembrance of what the ranch must
be like now grew daily more insistent.
The long rides and walks after school, the hunts for wild flowers, the
tennis which, with the coming of Spring, the Woodford young people had
promptly instituted, helped a good deal.
By the fifteenth of May, all of the papers for the Sargent had to be in.
“And to-morrow is the fifteenth!” Blue Bonnet rejoiced one afternoon.
“Now, perhaps, the old thing can drop!”
“Ah, but the waiting will begin now,” Ruth said.
“Can’t you wait in silence?”
“You’re a very disrespectful girl!” Debby said severely.
Blue Bonnet smiled agreeingly; “I have learned a lot of things since I
came East, haven’t I?”
The “We are Seven’s” were sitting under the trees in Kitty’s front
yard, resting after a long walk. “I’m going to have a birthday next
Saturday week,” Amanda announced.
“Is there to be a celebration?” Kitty inquired.
Amanda nodded importantly.
“Of course there is, little Miss Why!” Debby said. “There’s some use
in having a birthday in Woodford. If you were wise, Blue Bonnet, you’d
arrange to have yours while you were here--there would be something
doing then.”
“In August I’ll be on the ranch--and there’ll be something doing
there. There’s some good in having a birthday on the Blue Bonnet Ranch.”
“Aunt Huldah”--Amanda looked still more important--“says I may bring a
party out there for supper and--”
Kitty came nearer; “‘Codlin’s your friend!’ And look here,” she turned
to the others, “we’ll appoint a body-guard right now to see that Blue
Bonnet doesn’t pay any visits to the Poor Farm between now and a week
from Saturday.”
“I’ve never been there but that once!” Blue Bonnet protested.
“That’s not saying you wouldn’t go again if the fancy seized you,”
Kitty rejoined.
“I wish you would listen,” Amanda objected; “I thought I’d ask you
girls--”
“If you didn’t some of us would be asking the reason why,” Debby
interposed.
“And the boys who were at the ‘skating-rink party’ that day. I couldn’t
take any larger party than that.”
“Making it Gentlemen’s Day?” Blue Bonnet asked.
“Uncle Dave’s just finished building a new barn,” Amanda went on.
Kitty clapped her hands--“And we’re to dance in it after supper! Oh,
what fun!”
“It’ll be moonlight coming home, I looked it up in the almanac.”
Amanda leaned back with a sigh of satisfaction.
“Amanda Parker, you’re the sensiblest girl!” Kitty declared. “Now I
don’t believe Blue Bonnet or I would ever have thought of providing a
full moon too. Sarah might’ve.”
Blue Bonnet carried her good news home. “And I may go this time?” she
said. “I won’t ask anybody to tea for that night. I’d just love to
see a real farm. I suppose it’s what Uncle Joe would call a ‘juvenile
ranch.’ Twelve days is going to be an awful long while to wait.”
“A what, my dear?” Aunt Lucinda suggested.
“Very--spelled like--awful,” Blue Bonnet laughed.
“The days are going pretty fast the past weeks,” Grandmother said,
thinking sadly that already May was half gone and that June would soon
be here; even now, Mr. Ashe was writing of coming East for Blue Bonnet.
The summer seemed to stretch ahead, unusually long and quiet; and who
knew what the fall would bring forth? Blue Bonnet had not said as much
lately about coming back; and once Mr. Ashe had her safely on the
ranch, would he be willing to part with her again?
Grandmother roused herself; at least, Blue Bonnet had not gone yet.
Looking up, she found Blue Bonnet watching her rather soberly; and
presently, when supper was over, the latter ran hastily upstairs to
her own room.
“I’ve the best plan ever, Solomon!” she confided to him, as he danced
on before her. Five minutes later, she was down again. “I’m going to
the office to mail a letter,” she announced from the sitting-room
doorway; “I won’t be gone long.”
Those twelve days were not so long in passing. That all of the
invitations should have been promptly accepted was only to be expected.
“It’s about the only thorough-going jollification we’ll have time for
between now and closing of school,” Debby told Blue Bonnet; “the exams
will be beginning soon.”
“And we’ll have all last winter’s agony to go through with again?”
“That depends upon how easily you agonize.”
“I’m not quite so scared as I was then,” Blue Bonnet said; “I wonder if
one would ever get where an exam didn’t really bother one at all?”
“I’m not wasting my time over any such nonsense,” Kitty declared; “I’m
wondering why the wagon doesn’t come.”
The party were waiting on the Parker front steps for the big hay wagon
from the farm; the girls, in their fresh summer dresses, making a
bright spot of color against the green background of the vine covering
the piazza.
“Here it comes!” one of the boys said.
Billy had provided himself with a horn, a battered old affair which had
seen much service but was still capable of more, as Billy proceeded to
prove, waking the echoes of the quiet old street.
“Billy!” Mrs. Parker implored, coming out, “you’re not going to take
that thing?”
“I am surprised at you!” Billy eyed her reproachfully. “Don’t I always
take it?”
“We won’t let him blow it too often,” Alec promised; “if he tries to,
we’ll drop him and it overboard.”
“Isn’t living in a village ever and ever so much more fun than living
on a ranch?” Kitty demanded of Blue Bonnet as the wagon started.
“Tell her ‘no,’” Alec said.
“Tell her comparisons are odious,” another of the boys suggested.
“Tell _me_ to come and see,” Billy urged.
And suddenly Blue Bonnet found herself wishing that it were possible to
take all the “We are Seven’s” and some of their friends back to Texas
with her. Would they find the life there as strange and as confusing
as she had found it here? At least, there would be no school; just
long happy care-free days to be spent out-of-doors. She would like
Uncle Joe Terry to know Kitty--she could see the twinkle in his shrewd
kindly eyes as he looked down into the freckled, piquant little face;
she would like him to know Sarah, too, and all the girls, and Alec.
And she would like them all to know Uncle Joe. So long as there were
no fences making choice of side imperative, even Amanda was good fun;
besides, she was a club member.
But of course, it was not to be thought of.
“If I were the ‘rankin’ officer,’” Kitty announced, “I should be
calling you to attention just about now, Blue Bonnet Ashe. You are the
unhearingest girl that ever was!”
“But you’re not, you know,” Blue Bonnet answered; “and I was thinking
of something.”
“You mostly are--when you shouldn’t be; and mostly aren’t when you
should be,” Kitty observed.
“The ‘rankin’ officer’ is a part of the past, so far as we are
concerned,” Debby said comfortably.
“And so will the ‘jolly good’ be soon,” Billy said.
“And will you tell me,” Kitty looked from one to another, as if the
question were a momentous one, “what we are going to do next term with
a teacher named _Kent_!”
“You haven’t got her yet,” one of the boys reminded her. “‘There’s many
a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip.’”
“‘Spell it with a we, my lord, spell it with a we,’” Alec quoted.
“And have her _V_ent it all on us?” Ruth laughed.
“Somebody kindly head Sarah off! She’s getting ready to remonstrate!”
Kitty added.
“I see the new barn!” Susy called; “I guess you’re glad we’re nearly
there.” She looked up at Mrs. Parker, in the seat of honor beside the
driver.
“I’ve chaperoned you young people before,” Mrs. Parker answered,--a
remark, which, as Alec said, could be construed in more than one way.
“Choose your partners,” Billy called; “it’ll save time afterwards.”
They were within sight of the low, stone farmhouse by now; from the
front porch, Amanda’s Aunt Huldah was waving a welcome to them.
Boyd gave Billy a sudden shove into the road, slipping into his place
beside Blue Bonnet. “May I have the first dance?” he asked.
“It’s promised,” she answered; Alec had seen to that the night before.
“Well, I like that!” Billy stood staring after the wagon. “A nice way
to treat a fellow.”
“He thought you needed exercise, Billy,” Kitty called.
“Then, the second?” Boyd asked; she had seemed to avoid him whenever
possible lately,--he half wanted to find out why; and outside of that,
she was the best dancer there.
The wagon was stopping, but Blue Bonnet did not appear to have noticed;
she was looking off down the road they had come by, a doubtful
expression in her blue eyes; then she turned, meeting Boyd’s glance
fully, “I’ll give you the next to the last.”
“The next to the last!” She was a queer girl.
“Come on, Blue Bonnet!” Amanda called; “I want to introduce you to Aunt
Huldah--you and Boyd too.”
“I’m coming!” Blue Bonnet did not seem to see the helping hand Boyd
held out.
As she went up the steps with the other girls, he stood a moment
looking after her. He was not so sure now that he did want to find out
why she had--she had some nonsense in her mind. It couldn’t be about--
With a little shake of the shoulders, Boyd followed the rest.