merriment, for the dwellers therein, dressed in their prettiest with
flushed cheeks and eyes glowing like stars, darted from one room to
another.
“Oh, Rosie, come here a moment!” Adele called when that maiden appeared
in the open door to announce that she was dressed and ready.
Rosamond accepted the invitation and Adele looked her over with a
critical though admiring expression. “There is just one more touch
needed; this lovely pink rose ought to be caught among your locks. Look,
girls!” she added, turning to the others as she held a perfect flower
among the short golden curls. “Isn’t it just adorable there?”
“It is indeed!” came a merry and appreciative chorus. Rose was the most
beautiful of the girls, but there was not a jealous heart among them.
“I’m sorry for Bobby-boy!” Peggy Pierce teased as she spread her pretty
ruffled blue skirt, and perched on the arm of Carol’s chair. “If he
isn’t in love now, he will be before midnight.”
But Rose refused to be teased, and then there was a commotion out in the
corridor.
“Oh, isn’t she dazzling?” Betty Burd cried.
“Who, Who?” the others called gaily, and Starr was laughingly led into
their midst. She had on a dress of soft creamy material through which
ran a silvery thread and under the lights it glittered prettily, but it
was the circlet about her dark hair that had attracted the girls, for
poised in front was a silver star. It was Geraldine’s present to her new
cousin.
“Oh!” Adele exclaimed admiringly as she stood off and gazed at this girl
whom she had come to love so dearly. “You fairly scintillate! I wish
your prairie brothers might see you now.”
Starr laughed. “My doggie would never know me, I am sure of that!” she
replied. “Just think, this is the very first party that I have ever
attended.”
Madge Petersen, sitting quietly on the window-seat, looked at one and
another of the flushed faces as she thought that never before had she
seen so many lovely and lovable girls.
Just then Marie, the maid, appeared in the doorway and announced, “The
young gentlemen have arrived and are waiting in the library.”
An hour later the long recreation hall in Linden Seminary was the scene
of a most festive occasion. All that morning the girls had been in the
meadows and little wood gathering daisies, buttercups and ferns, and
these seemed to be blossoming everywhere. In a palm-sheltered nook at
one end of the hall, a group of Hawaiian musicians played waltzes and
one-steps that were sometimes dreamy and sometimes merry, for these
dances were all that were permitted, and the happy lads and lassies
glided about, smiling brightly when they passed the end of the hall
farthest from the musicians, for there sat Madame Deriby looking
wonderfully lovely in a silvery gray silk. At her side was Madge
Petersen.
“These are all charming girls, Madame Deriby,” Madge said. “I have been
watching them for some time and not one have I seen whose manner toward
her partner is other than frank friendliness.”
“I am glad!” the pleased matron replied. “I have always tried to teach
these dear pupils of mine that lads never really admire a girl who is
simpering and sentimental. At first I feared that Gladys Merle Jones
might be that type, but Adele Doring and her friends have done much to
make Gladys like themselves.”
At nine o’clock Adele, who was at that time dancing with her brother
Jack, paused and said softly, “Madame Deriby, is it time for the
surprise?”
“Yes, dear,” the matron replied. “Suppose you tell Arthur Ellsworth the
part that he is to take, and bid the musicians play very softly.”
When the first strains of the next dance were heard, Arthur went at once
and bowed before Gertrude and together they sauntered out on the floor.
Trudie wondered why they seemed to be the only couple dancing, and she
was still more puzzled when Arthur waltzed to the middle of the room and
then paused. Before she had time to question this strange procedure,
from every part of the room came laughing girls. Running toward her and
catching hold of hands, they formed a circle about her as gaily they
sang:
“Happy birthday to our Gertrude;
May many others dawn as bright,
And may you ever be as joyous,
Dear friend, as you are to-night.”
Then little Betty stepped forward holding a long velvet box and
curtsying to the surprised maiden she recited:
“We all of us love you, Gertrude,
Sweetest and dearest of girls,
And, that you may never forget us,
Accept this string of friendship pearls.”
Sudden tears rushed to the eyes of the beautiful lassie, who was indeed
dearly loved, but they were tears of gratitude and joy.
“But—I thought no one knew it was my birthday,” Trudie said when the
pearls had been clasped about her neck, then she added happily, “I love
you all, too, and I thank you!”
Gertrude thought her cup of happiness was brimming full, but another
sweet joy was coming to her that night.
[Illustration: Then little Betty stepped forward holding a long velvet
box.]
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
A BUD OF A ROMANCE
Another hour of dancing passed and then Madame Deriby arose and nodded
smilingly at Adele. This being a signal upon which they had agreed, all
of the girls with their partners fell into line and marched joyously
about the hall, then filed out of the wide doors and into the orchard.
There a festive scene lay before them.
From the branches of the gnarled old trees many gaily colored Chinese
lanterns hung, and underneath, small tables were scattered about with
graceful Hawaiian waiters in attendance.
“I feel as though I had been suddenly transported to some magical
far-away garden,” Adele said to Donald Burnley as they sat together at
one of the small tables where were also Jack and Doris.
There were four seated at each table except at one, and there Gertrude
Willis and Arthur Ellsworth sat alone. It was on the edge of the
orchard, and Trudie, glancing up at the fleecy, slowly drifting clouds,
saw emerging a slender crescent moon. From afar there wafted to them the
sweet yet plaintive strains of “Drowsy Waters.”
“It is a wonderfully lovely night, isn’t it?” the girl said smiling
frankly at the lad whose companionship she so enjoyed.
“Yes,” he replied, and then, as though following aloud a former train of
thought, he asked, “Gertrude, shall you go this summer with the
camping-party?”
“Oh, no, Arthur, I am needed at home, and, moreover, I shall try to find
some mother who would like me to teach her little ones during vacation.
A minister’s salary is not princely, you know,” she told him brightly.
For a moment the lad was thoughtful. “Gertrude,” he said at last, “we
are young, I know, to speak of love, but if you think that in time you
could care for me, I would be very glad,” then he hurriedly added, “I
have spoken about it to my Aunt Louise and she said that she did wish
that you would let her help you now, just as if you were really her
niece, as I do hope that you will be some day.”
For a moment there was a happy light in Gertrude’s eyes, but when she
replied, it was in the old frank way.
“Arthur,” she said, “I like you better than any one else whom I know,
and if you do care when we are older, I will gladly become your aunt’s
niece, but until then, I would rather not accept help.”
And with that Arthur had to be content.
CHAPTER THIRTY
FAREWELL, LINDEN HALL
The next day all was hustle and bustle at Linden Hall. Trunks were being
packed and strapped, and Patrick, with Billie’s help, was carting them
down the back stairs and loading them on a truck.
“Girls!” Adele Doring exclaimed, as at last she stood with hat and coat
on, “I feel like crying one moment, and then the very next, I want to
skip and shout for joy. Of course I am sorry to leave Madame Deriby and
all of our dear friends, but oh, I am so eager to see my adorable mother
and my giant daddy that it seems as though I can’t wait for the train to
take me there. I almost wish Captain Nelson would appear and take us in
his airplane.”
“If you would like to see some one who is radiantly happy, look at
Starr!” Doris Drexel called, then she added, “I don’t think it’s a bit
nice of her to be so glad to leave us.”
Every one turned to look at the graceful, well-gowned girl who had
suddenly appeared in the doorway, her eyes fairly glowing.
“I don’t want to leave you!” Starr cried. “I want to take every one of
you to my wonderful prairie home, and some day, you must come, all of
you, and meet my splendid brothers, and see the cornfields and the
sunsets. Promise me that you will.”
“Indeed I will, if Mummie and fate will permit,” Adele Doring declared.
Then a gong in the corridor called them, and, bidding farewell to
Apple-Blossom Alley, where they had had so many pleasant times, they
trooped down to the lower hall where Madame Deriby and the other
teachers stood. There were tears in the eyes of the matron, and yet she
was smiling, as she said good-bye.
“I shall be lonely without my girls,” she told them, “but most of you
are to return in the fall.”
Then Adele, who had been appointed spokesman, stepped forward. “Madame
Deriby and all of our kind teachers,” she said earnestly, “we wish to
thank you for having made this winter one of the happiest and most
profitable of our short lives. The girls have asked me to say that we
love you and are grateful,” she added simply.
Then Arthur Ellsworth appeared with the tally-ho. He had taken the boys
to the station and returned for the girls. Patrick followed with another
merry crowd in the school bus.
As they rolled down the deserted wooded hill road, they sang a song
which Adele had composed, “Farewell, Dear Linden Hall,” and so sweet
were their mingled voices that even the birds paused their caroling to
listen.
Then, as they drew up to the station, Adele called, “Sunnysiders, here
endeth another chapter, and the next will be——”
“Adele Doring out camping!” Betty Burd finished for her.