BILLOWS THE BEAUTIFUL
Imagine trees, so many beautiful trees that they made canopies,
tunnels and softest green shelters fit for fairies, for elves and for
lovely little children. Outside and beyond this grove, imagine a
carpet so green that the sky threw shadows upon it in futile jealousy,
gardens so gorgeous that butterflies fluttered over the blooms,
bewildered and confused in their temptations and then—just beyond and
yet within all of this, think of a House Beautiful!
That was Billows, the summer home of Cara Burke.
A great iron fence raised its palings outside the farthermost borders
of the estate. But only the ocean and the ocean drive were thus
separated, for acres and acres were shut in behind the iron fence, and
one couldn’t find the gates unless one knew where to look for them.
Greenery everywhere.
Yes, they were very rich, the Burkes, but no one could call them
“stuck up,” not even the most jealous, or most narrow-minded person at
Sea Cosset, who was generally supposed to be old Sarah Jenkins, who
sold peppermints and never stopped talking.
And here at the Billows, Cara Burke was holding her first house party,
while among those present was Barbara Hale.
“Cara, you should be dressed and down here now,” her mother warned
from the alcove near the stairs. “The girls are coming——”
“You do the honors, Moma,” called back Cara, in a voice quite
pardonable if she was a little distance off. “That’s just Louise and
Esther——”
No pompous butler barred the way, for the massive doors were open wide
and the laughter of young girls was echoing clear up to Cara’s
dressing-room, while Sniffy, the black poodle, bumped himself down the
stairs to find out what it was all about.
“Come right along, girls,” Mrs. Burke welcomed the first arrivals,
Esther, Louise, and Lida. “Cara will be down directly.”
The girls hesitated, overwhelmed by the beauty of the flowers and soft
lights. They were already familiar with the house and its luxurious
furnishings, but the urns and vases filled with blooms beneath the
silken floor lamps made the rooms look like a scene from some gorgeous
theatrical set.
“I waited for Ruth,” Esther was saying, “but she didn’t come over.
Then we drove over there and she was gone, in a taxi, her mother
said.”
“Here she is now!” proclaimed Louise, for the rollicking Ruth was
tripping up the stone steps, suit-case dangling by her.
“’Low girls!” she called out. “I missed you! But I got the worth of my
money from old Taxi-Dermot,” she declared, “I made him drive me down
along the ocean, and then—so that every one might see me, I directed
him to drive past the tennis court——”
“Here’s Cara,” interrupted Louise. “Ruth, you didn’t shake hands with
Mrs. Burke,” she whispered to the obstreperous Ruth, although Mrs.
Burke had by now disappeared, leaving the scene to Cara and Sniffy.
Greetings and exclamations peculiar to girls who are only growing up
and think they have already grown up, were being perfunctorily
exchanged, when Cara’s car, almost noiselessly, rolled up the drive,
and then a shadow appeared in the doorway. This time it was the
Burke’s chauffeur, Dixon, and the suit-case he primly placed in the
hall, over near the carved wooden settee, was none other than Barbara
Hale’s.
“Oh, here’s Barbara!” exclaimed Cara, happily, rushing forward to
greet the latest and last arrival, Barbara, in her green and white
sport suit with the close-fitting white felt hat.
Cara gushed and gurgled, saying every pleasant thing she could think
of and all but kissing Barbara, but it seemed as if all the joy was
between those two. The other girls had fallen back a little, into a
group of their own, and just then Barbara wondered if she were going
to be treated as an interloper, an outsider.
Were they not glad to meet her?
“Girls!” called out Cara, “you all know Barbara, don’t you? We met her
at the committee meeting, you know,” she pointed out breathlessly.
“Barbara, this is Louise, and Lida, and you must know Ruth? Ruth
Harrison——”
“Oh yes, I know Ruth,” interrupted the embarrassed Barbara, for she
was feeling the same old catch in her breath which she always
experienced when meeting a lot of strange girls.
But presently the ice was broken and the waters of sociability oozed
along, if a little halting, when Esther blocked their way with her
little snowball about Barbara being “a stranger in Sea Cosset, if she
did live only just across the line.”
Of course Esther had to say that. “Just across the line”, as if a few
scrub pines and a couple of wild fields could really make any
difference in climate or territory. But one place was ordinary,
Landing, the other exclusive, Sea Cosset.
Were they going to snub her? Cara’s profuse welcome seemed to Barbara
a little strained, as if Cara were trying to cover up something. Only
Ruth Harrison attempted to put Barbara at her ease and she undertook
to criticize clothes.
“Now, that’s what I call a nifty little costume,” spoke out Ruth
without an attempt at politeness. “Wherever did you get a rig like
that, Barbara?”
Wherever did she get it? Barbara winced a little, then burst out
laughing.
“No use trying to put on airs,” she declared gaily. “This is home-made
and the cook helped me out.”
After that they all “joined in the chorus.” Every one told about where
her clothes were bought, (if not actually quoting the prices) and
there was more joy over a bargain—it was Ruth’s sport stockings
two-ninety-eight, regular four dollars—than over the wonderful lace
tracery on the side of Louise’s really lovely tub-silk dress.
Clothes! And Barbara would barely trust herself to utter the tricky
little word!
“But are we all here?” Cara presently asked, for they were still
hanging around the door, as if the arrival had not been completed.
Ruth counted six and that was all expected.
“Then let’s get the bags put away and go outside,” proposed Cara.
“Since you haven’t been travelling——”
“But we have!” joked Ruth. “Didn’t I make the Taxi-Dermot drive me all
over the world in his rattle-box?”
“Then perhaps _you_ want to change,” suggested Cara in the same joking
manner. “You must be worn out, Ruthie dear,” she mocked. “I’ll have my
maid help you into a warm baa-th——”
“You will not! I’ve been in the ocean and if I don’t walk straight
I’ll spoil something, for my ears are leaking the briny,” chuckled
Ruth, merrily.
Barbara was merely looking on and listening. She felt out of place,
even awkward, but she knew how to affect poise even if she didn’t feel
it. Yes, she had needed the companionship of girls; there was no
denying that, she was secretly willing to admit.
Up the stairs they raced, suit-cases banging along with them, while
Sniffy, the poodle, turned up his little black nose and went the other
way. The Burkes might not have been of the class picturesquely called
“high-hat” which is the newer word for high-toned, but Sniffy was
worse than that. He was snobby. _He_ hadn’t any use for giggling girls
and he gruntily resented their invasion of the beautiful Billows.
“I was going to have a drawing for room-mates,” Cara told the girls
who were now all gathered in her gold and green room. “But honestly,
girls, I just——”
“Oh, we know you want Barbara——”
“Babs,” corrected Cara. “We’re going to call you Babs, aren’t we?” she
asked the girl who was lost in admiration of a marine scene that hung
between the two latticed windows.
“Let’s get out while it’s so lovely——” suggested Esther, and in that
little suggestion one might have noticed that Esther was adroitly
managing to divert attention from Babs. For which Babs was thankful,
although Esther could not possibly have known that.
Suit-cases unpacked and room-mates assigned, presently they were
racing off to the tennis court although apparently no one was going to
play.
“Too hot,” was the verdict on that suggestion, but it was more likely
too much trouble; and besides, Esther and Louise at least were not
dressed for tennis.
It was all very unreal to Barbara. These beautiful grounds, the gaily
dressed girls, so care-free, so frivolous and more than anything else,
so girlish. It must be fine to feel free from anxiety. There were
Dora’s wages due, and Dr. Hale’s bills not coming in promptly, there
were the cultures for experiments to be paid for and they were so
expensive. And now, if her father was determined to shut her help out,
that would mean also the loss of Glenn Gaynor’s assistance, for he
worked with Barbara, enjoying the experiments and calling them fun
when they worked them out together. He would hardly enjoy Dr. Hale’s
professional methods; what boy, working alone, would?
Words are halting and inadequate to express the mental flashes that
pictured all this in Barbara’s mind, for it came as clearly and as
quickly as the penetrating gleams of the late afternoon sunshine, as
they shot through indifferent clouds. Not even the insistence of the
girls’ laughter nor Cara’s challenge to knocking up balls, could
disguise the reality of the worries she had tried and failed to leave
behind her at home.
And clothes! Clothes! How they mocked her now! She who could sally
forth triumphantly in a skirt, unhemmed (frayed out for effect!); in a
sweater that Dora made for the church fair and it didn’t sell, in a
hat—no, without a hat. Around home and in her unhampered outdoor life
all of this and even worse was all right, rather individual and by no
means a hardship. But now, here with these daintily dressed girls, of
whom even the careless Ruth Harrison admitted paying two dollars and a
half for sport stockings, here Barbara fully realized her shabbiness.
They were seated on the low, white Roman benches, and Cara, who was
wearing a simple but lovely white flannel, had just jumped up to bat a
few balls over or under the net. Glad of a chance to relieve her
misgivings with some positive action, Barbara quickly followed, and
these two girls were again apart from the others, rather
unintentionally.
“I told you,” remarked Esther to Louise.
“What?” demanded Louise.
“What? Why that,” pointing to the flying figures at the tennis net.
“Well, what of it? Cara asked _us_ to play, didn’t she?” Louise was
not going to let a small thing like Cara’s open preference for Barbara
spoil her good time.
“Isn’t she wonderfully athletic?” pointed out Lida. She meant Barbara
and she meant the remark to be a compliment.
“Oh, yes.” Esther’s eyebrows went up quizzically.
“Whew!” whistled Ruth Harrison. “Look at that jump! And _we_ sit here
like bumps on logs. Say girls, if we’re not going to ‘bust’ our new
clothes doing that, we had better find something else to do. As a
grandstand this bench isn’t big enough,” and she tried to push Louise
off at the other end.
It was presently agreed that the non-players should go down to the
lake. The lake was accessible from one end of the grounds, and when
Ruth called out the glad news to Cara, she, Cara, insisted upon going
too.
That her other guests were missing her while she batted balls with
Barbara, Cara easily guessed, but as they planned a boat ride Barbara
hesitated.
“I just love this exercise and really need it,” she demurred. “Let me
play around here and you go along for your sail,” she entreated Cara.
“And leave you all alone?” sang out little Lida.
“All by my loney,” laughed Barbara. “Don’t worry about me, I’m all
right,” and she continued to bat balls against the high wire net that
served to keep them within bounds.
[Illustration: “OH!” GASPED BARBARA. “IT’S NICKY! AND HE’S HURT!”]
Cara hesitated. “I am determined to let every girl do just as she
pleases,” she remarked. “But I hate to leave you alone, Babs.”
“Please do,” begged Barbara. “I’m having a wonderful time,” and she
sprang for a ball that tried to escape her racket, while Ruth again
shouted merrily in applause.
Cara, Lida, Ruth, Louise and Esther, comprising the entire house party
with Barbara excepted, started off along the winding path to the lake.
Unconsciously Barbara sighed. It was good to be left alone.