joyously cried, “Oh, it’s Betty Burd and her Uncle George. Mr.
Wainwright, would you mind if we rode with you into town? Mother is
expecting us home by six.”
“Why, Adele Doring!” Betty exclaimed before her uncle could reply. “You
know we’re glad to have you.”
Then Adele introduced her friends, and Betty asked, “Miss Peterson,
wouldn’t you like to ride with us?”
“Why don’t you, Sis?” Everett exclaimed. “It won’t take but a moment for
Mr. Wainwright to stop at the inn, and then I’ll stay a spell with my
old friend here.”
“Bully! I wish you would!” Eric cried, clapping his hand on his friend’s
shoulder. So when the car started again, the three smaller girls were
seated on the wide backseat, while Madge Peterson sat with the driver.
Mr. Wainwright drove slowly, because, as he explained, the lake road was
in rather poor condition. Adele, hearing this, smiled, for the car had
been plunging along when the boys had stopped it.
“Miss Peterson,” Betty’s Uncle George said, with his pleasant smile, “I
have met you before, haven’t I?”
“Have you? Where?” Madge glanced up inquiringly, and then she exclaimed,
“Oh, yes, I know—at Dora Pendleton’s Musical Tea.”
“And you had some drawings exhibited that day,” Uncle George continued.
“I remember that I thought they were excellent.”
Madge smiled, as she said, “I truly did not want to have them exhibited,
but Dora Pendleton knew that I was eager to do some illustrating, and
she said that several writers would be among the company, and that it
might be a good plan to show them samples of my work.”
“A splendid plan!” Uncle George said warmly. “And I am sure that you
received an order.”
“I did, indeed!” Madge exclaimed enthusiastically. “And such an
interesting one it has proved. Miss Kimberly, the children’s poet, was
there, you remember, and she has asked me to illustrate her book of
fanciful child-verse. I am having the most beautiful time making the
drawings, and, besides that, it pays well and I need the money.”
Adele was surprised to hear this, as she had supposed that Madge
Peterson had no need to earn money. When the inn was reached and
farewells had been exchanged, Madge called, “I’ll be at the Home on
Monday, Eva,” and then the car sped on. Little did the three girls dream
of the wonderful something that was going to happen because of that
lake-shore ride.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A TRIP TO THE CITY
When Eva Dearman awoke on Monday morning in her little iron cot-bed in
the orphanage dormitory, somehow she did not see things plain and
unattractive, as they really were. There was such a joyous anticipation
in her heart that even the dull gray morning seemed aglow. She met
Amanda Brown in the hallway and gave her a sudden hug, as she exclaimed,
“I have had the loveliest time, Mandy. Did you miss me just a little
bit?”
Amanda clung to her friend, as she sobbed: “Oh, Eva, don’t go away and
leave me again. It’s just like funerals all the time when you are gone.
Everybody else is so horrid to me. I tried being nice, the way you asked
me to, and then the girls said I was aping after you, and they called me
Miss Dearman.”
“Well, it’s just a mean shame!” Eva cried, with flashing eyes. “How
girls can take pleasure in being unkind is more than I can understand.
But don’t cry, Amanda! There’s half an hour yet before classes; let’s
run to the woods and back.”
All that day it was hard for Eva to keep her mind on her work, for had
not her wonderful artist-friend said that she would call at the Home on
Monday! And so Eva was continually expecting to be called to the office.
Would Mrs. Friend allow her to accept the drawing-lessons? she wondered.
Never did a day pass more slowly, and, for the first time since she had
been there, Eva’s recitations were poor, but the teacher, Miss Bently,
loved Eva, and was very patient with her. At last there came a rap on
the class-room door and Eva held her breath. Who would it be? Perhaps
Mrs. Friend would bring Madge Peterson to visit the class-room, but it
was only a little girl with a note. Miss Bently read it and then glanced
up with a smile. She believed that she now understood her favorite’s
mental preoccupation.
“You are to go to Mrs. Friend’s office, Eva,” she said, kindly. “You
have a visitor.”
The girl’s face glowed as she went toward the door. In the office Madge
Peterson was seated. She arose as Eva entered, and, taking both her
hands, she exclaimed: “Eva, I have splendid news for you! Mrs. Friend is
pleased with our plan, and you may come to the city next Saturday
morning and spend the day with me.”
“Oh, Mrs. Friend!” Eva cried joyously. “How can I ever thank you!”
“It is Miss Peterson whom you must thank, Eva,” Mrs. Friend replied.
“I do indeed thank her,” the girl exclaimed, with shining eyes. “And I
hope I shall become such a famous artist that she will feel repaid for
her interest. Shall you be very much disappointed if I don’t, Miss
Peterson?”
“Indeed I shall not,” Madge laughingly replied. “I never expect to
acquire fame myself, but I do get a great deal of pleasure from my
sketching, and now and then I am asked to do a bit of illustrating and
so earn extra pin-money, or Roberty-Boberts money, I should say. Some
day you must meet little Bob, Eva. You will just love him.”
Then Madge expressed a desire to look about the orphanage and the matron
asked Eva to show her friend the building and the grounds. What a happy
hour it was for that orphan girl! and Madge, who was patroness of
another orphanage, took great interest in seeing how this one was
conducted.
Then, arm in arm, these two friends sauntered to the front gate. There
stood a little olive-green car, which Eva thought was the prettiest she
had ever seen.
“I like it,” Madge exclaimed, “but Brother Everett makes fun of it. His
car is as big a one as he could find, and when they stand together in
the garage Everett says they look like a giant and a pigmy, so I have
named my car Pigmy, and we are the best of comrades. Some day, Eva, you
shall go riding with me.”
Then Madge was gone. She wanted to visit Adele’s mother and make further
plans for Saturday.
Was ever a week so long? the orphan girl wondered, but at last Saturday
dawned bright and sunny. Eva awakened with the feeling that something
wonderful was going to happen, and then she remembered! Leaping from her
little cot-bed, which was the last of a long row, she looked out of the
open window and up at the sky. How gleaming and blue it was! and out in
the orchard the birds were singing their happy morning-songs. Eva wished
that she too might sing, but even then the dressing-bell was ringing,
and the nineteen other orphans who slept in that dormitory were tumbling
out of their beds.
“Good morning, Amanda,” Eva said softly to the girl who slept in the cot
next her own.
“Good morning,” Amanda replied, but she turned quickly away. She did not
want Eva to see that she had been crying in the night.
At breakfast the orphans were allowed to talk, and Eva chattered like a
magpie, making every one near her bright and happy, but not once did she
tell about her trip to the city, because she did not want the other
girls to feel that she was having pleasures which they could not share.
When the orphans had gone about their Saturday-morning tasks, Eva went
up to the dormitory to put on her pretty white dress. When she was ready
to go, she slipped her mother’s picture out of its hiding-place and
whispered, “Oh, mumsie, dear, everybody is so kind to your little girl.
Aren’t you glad?”
Then down the stairs she skipped, and there was Adele Doring waiting for
her in the hall.
“What do you think?” Adele exclaimed. “We have an invitation to ride
into town with Bob Angel and Brother Jack. They were going in to see a
ball game on the high-school campus, and mother said that we might ride
in with them.”
“Will wonders never cease?” Eva said, joyously. “I adore riding in autos
and I almost never have the chance.”
Mrs. Friend stepped out of her office and greeted Adele. Then she looked
over her young charge, to see if all the buttons were in the right
holes, for Eva was so excited that she could not keep her mind on
ordinary things.
“Have you a clean handkerchief, dear?” Mrs. Friend asked. Eva felt in
her pocket. It was empty. “I’ll run back and get one,” she said. “I
won’t be half a jiffy.”
Up the stairs she fairly flew and into the dormitory she danced.
Suddenly she stopped. She heard some one crying. On the bed next to her
own a girl was lying, sobbing as though her heart would break. It was
Amanda Brown. Eva flew to her friend, and, putting her arms about her,
asked: “Mandy, dear, what is the matter? Has some one been mean, horrid,
to you?”
“No-o!” sobbed the girl. “Oh, Eva, I thought you were gone! Please,
please don’t let me spoil your day.”
“Mandy,” Eva said firmly, “tell me why you are crying! I shall stay here
until you do.”
Amanda knew that Eva meant what she said, and so she replied brokenly,
“It’s—it’s my birthday, Eva, and nobody cares.”
Tears rushed to Eva’s eyes, and she held her friend close. She
remembered how lonely she had felt on her birthday, when she thought
that nobody cared.
“I care, Amanda Brown,” Eva exclaimed sincerely. “You wait here a
moment. I’ll be right back.” And before Amanda could prevent it, Eva had
left the dormitory. Down the stairs she went more slowly, and the two
watching from below wondered at her changed expression.
“Mrs. Friend,” Eva said, “I can’t go to the city! It is Amanda Brown’s
birthday, and she will be so unhappy if I go away and leave her. I know
how I felt when I thought that nobody cared about my birthday.”
“Oh, Mrs. Friend!” Adele exclaimed. “Couldn’t we take Amanda Brown with
us? I know Miss Peterson would be so glad to have her.”
Mrs. Friend readily consented, so Eva hurried back to the dormitory with
the news, and when Amanda tried to refuse, insisted that she would
remain at home unless her friend would go with them.
In less time than it seemed possible, Eva had Amanda dressed in her
Sunday best, and the three girls hurried down the gravelly walk to the
gate. Bob Angel leaped to the ground and threw open the door of the car
with a flourish. “Good morning, ladies,” he said. “Jack is your
chauffeur and I am your footman.”
“My! What a grandness!” Adele laughingly exclaimed as the lad helped
them into the car.
Then such a joyous ride as they had! They had to take off their
broad-brimmed hats, and the fresh wind soon blew the tearstains from
Amanda’s cheeks, and left there such a rosy color that the other two
girls, looking at her, thought that she would be truly beautiful if only
she was loved and made happy.
CHAPTER TWENTY
AMANDA BROWN
The ride, which Amanda Brown wished would last for hours, was quickly
over, for the city was only ten miles away, and very soon the speed had
to be slackened as they entered the busy streets.
“Here is Miss Peterson’s address,” Adele said, as she handed Jack a slip
of paper.
“Nice neighborhood that,” Bob commented as he read it. It was indeed a
nice neighborhood, as the girls decided when, a few moments later, they
turned off of the noisy streets and found themselves in a place so quiet
that it seemed like the village of Sunnyside. There was a small park,
green with grass and trees, around which stood handsome brown-stone
houses. Adele was puzzled. If Madge Peterson lived in one of these, what
could she have meant by saying that she needed to earn money with her
drawing? Adele had not heard of Roberty-Bob.
Jack had stopped the car at the curb, and Adele laughingly said, “Our
footman ought to go up and ring the bell.”
“Very well, Miss Doring,” Bob gayly replied. “Your footman will do your
bidding.”
So out of the car the lad leaped, and up the flight of stone steps he
ran, but before he could ring the bell the door opened and there stood
Everett Peterson.
“Why, Bob Angel!” he cried. “This is great! Did you come in for the
game?”
“Well, Everett, do you live here?” Bob exclaimed in surprise. Bob was
already doing some preparatory work at the North High, and it was there
they had met. Then suddenly remembering the part he was supposed to be
playing, Bob said solemnly, “Mr. Peterson, at present I am Miss Doring’s
footman, and she sent me to inquire if your sister is in.”
“So that’s it,” laughed Everett. “Yes, my sister is at home, and is
expecting her guests.”
The three girls now appeared on the porch, and Madge, hearing merry
voices, came out of the library to greet them. She was indeed glad to
meet Amanda, and that orphan girl, who had dreaded coming, for fear she
would not be welcome, was soon put at her ease.
Everett and Bob had gone back to the car, and Everett was introduced to
Adele’s brother, Jack.
“I’ll tell you what,” Everett cried. “You fellows come back here for
lunch and we’ll all go to the game together.”
Meanwhile Madge had led the girls into the library, which was richly
though simply furnished. She asked them to be seated while they talked
over which classes they would like to enter. “The Art Institute is just
around the corner, and we are not due there until ten-thirty,” Madge
said. “Of course, you lassies understand that it is an endowed
institute, and so the classes are free. Eva has decided to take drawing.
Adele, what would be your choice?”
“Oh, Miss Peterson!” Adele cried joyously. “I didn’t know that I was to
take anything. Have they a class for writers? I may not have any talent,
but I’d so love to try.”
Miss Peterson smiled at the girl’s enthusiasm as she replied, “Then you
shall have the opportunity, and really wanting to do a thing is half of
success, I think, because one is more apt to persevere in spite of
seeming failures.” Then, turning to Amanda, she said kindly, “And what
talent have you hidden away, little Miss Brown?”
Amanda flushed with evident embarrassment as she replied, “Oh, Miss
Peterson, I don’t suppose that I have any talents. If I have, I don’t
know what they are. I never had a chance to try anything.”
Madge Peterson’s heart was touched with pity for this forlorn girl, and
she said softly, “Amanda, won’t you tell us a little about your life,
before you went to the orphanage, and then perhaps we shall know how
best to find your talent?”
“There isn’t much to tell,” Amanda said hesitatingly. “My mother was
only eighteen when I came. She sang in concert-halls, and folks said her
voice was like an angel’s, sweet and sad-like. All that I seem to
remember of her looks is that her face was so white and her dark eyes
shone like stars. She used to leave me in a little back room when she
sang, and then, when her part was over, she would catch me up in her
arms and hold me close, and sometimes she cried. Then, when I was seven
years old, she was taken sick. A kind old woman took care of us. One day
my mother called me to her bedside. She said, ‘Little daughter, if you
can sing when you grow up, promise me that you won’t sing in
concert-halls.’ Of course I promised. The old woman kept me for a while
after mother died, but she didn’t have any money, and so she sent me to
the orphanage and I’ve been there ever since, and now I am thirteen.”
There were tears in the eyes of the listeners, and Madge said kindly,
“Amanda, would you like to try to sing?”
Amanda shook her head. “You have to feel happy inside to want to sing,”
she said, “and I never feel that, at least I never did until Eva came,”
she added, with a loving glance toward her friend.
Then Madge rose and said, “Come, girls, we will go to the Art Institute
now.”
A few moments later they were entering a large building only a block
from the Peterson home. Eva was placed in a drawing-class and Adele in
one for composition. When the other two were alone, Madge said kindly,
“Amanda, there is a dear old singing-master here. I have known him for
years. Will you let him try your voice?”
“If you wish it,” Amanda replied.
The kindly professor welcomed them and was soon testing the quality of
the girl’s voice. Later, he drew Madge aside and said: “The child has a
sweet tone, though not strong. There is a sad note in her voice, strange
for one so young. I will teach her gladly, and see what we can make of
it.”
And so it was that a new joy came into the life of Amanda Brown.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE BALL GAME
When the classes were over, the girls met in the lower hall, and Eva was
delighted to hear that Amanda had consented to have her voice tried.
“And now you will come in with us every Saturday,” she whispered to her
friend, when, for a second, they were together in the merry throng of
students who were leaving the building.
When they entered the Peterson home, a few moments later, they heard a
great racket overhead.
“It sounds as though there were wild Indians in the house,” Madge
laughingly exclaimed. “Ho, there, Brother Everett! Are you making all
that noise just by yourself?”
“Not much, sis,” a boy’s voice replied. “I have company. Be down
directly.” And before the girls had time to lay off their wraps, down
the stairs Everett leaped, followed by Bob Angel and Jack Doring.
“Sister mine,” Everett cried, “I do hope that you ordered grub enough,
for three uninvited guests are coming to your party and we’re as hungry
as Russian wolves in winter.”
Madge laughed and was about to reply, when Jack Doring exclaimed, “Miss
Peterson, I do hope that we are not intruding. Bob and I had no
intention of staying, but—”
Madge laughingly held up her hand as she replied, “My dear boy, if we
had twenty unexpected guests, it would not inconvenience us in the
least.”
“We’d just add twenty more cups of water to the soup,” Everett explained
gayly, and then the Chinese gongs called them to the dining-room. The
cook, who was an especial friend of Everett’s, had been duly notified by
that youth, and so the correct number of places had been laid.
The boys were so excited over the coming game that they could talk of
nothing else. There were two high schools in the city, and the North
High was to play against the South High. Everett attended the North
High, and so, of course, his guests were on his side.
“We’ll win!” Everett cried. “How _could_ we lose? We have the best
pitcher this side of Jerusalem.”
“Everett!” Madge exclaimed. “Isn’t that a good deal of a boast?
Jerusalem is a long way off. Wouldn’t you better say Sunnyside?”
“No, ma’am,” Everett retorted. “Eric Brownley is the best pitcher in the
whole United States, or I miss my guess.”
“Why, that’s the boy we met at Little Bear Lake, isn’t it? The one who
had been brought up by that nice old lumberman?” Adele asked.
“The very same!” Everett replied.
And then, as soon as lunch was over, the merry party put on their wraps,
entered the two cars, and were soon driven to the campus of the North
High, where the game was to be held.
Everett was so excited that he simply had to shout, but a great
disappointment was awaiting him.
The North High campus was crowded with merry boys and girls. Those who
were from the South High waved bright red pennants, and those from the
North High had equally bright yellow ones. Every time one of the
ball-players appeared, his particular class-mates gave their yell and
cheered him until he disappeared again.
“The Souths are making a great to-do,” Everett said scornfully. “As
though they had a ghost of a chance of winning! Not they, with our Eric
Brownley on the diamond. Now, here come the players, and when you see
Eric, _yell_ like good ones.”
The girls stood on tiptoe and watched for Eric as eagerly as did the
boys. The players were taking their places and yet Eric did not appear.
“Great guns!” Everett cried in dismay. “There’s Dorset, Eric’s sub!
What’s he pitching for, I wonder? Say, you wait here till I find out.”
Everett, with a heavy heart, made his way through the crowd to the
diamond. One of the players gave the information that he sought, and
Everett returned to his friends, looking anything but cheerful.
“It’s all up,” he said dismally. “The game is as good as lost. I’ve a
mind to go home.”
“Why, Everett,” Madge asked. “What has happened?”
“Oh, that old lumberman down at Bear Lake was hurt or something, and
they sent for Eric two days ago, and he said that if he possibly could,
he’d be back for the big game, but he didn’t make it. Imagine _anything_
keeping a fellow from playing this game when he’s bound to be the
victor.”
“I felt sure that Eric Brownley was a fine lad,” Madge declared warmly,
“and now I know that he is.”
The game had commenced and the North High was decidedly getting the
worst of it. They were not even playing their best; they were all
disheartened because Eric had failed them.
The students from the South High were making the place ring with their
cheers. Everett was disgusted.
“We’ve as good as lost. Come on! I’m going home,” he said, when suddenly
there was a commotion in the crowd.
“What’s up?” Everett asked, trying to see over the heads.
“There’s a horseman coming at top speed down the road,” some one
replied, “and it _might_ be Eric Brownley.”
“It is Eric!” Everett cried excitedly, as he pushed through the crowd.
Eric had already leaped from his foaming horse and had entered the
shack. As soon as possible he reappeared in his suit, and what a cheer
went up when Dorset dropped out and Eric took his place on the diamond.
The rest of the nine took heart, and never before had they played such a
splendid game as they did then.
When it was over the boys from the North High took Eric on their
shoulders and bore him in triumph to the shack. Everett’s joy knew no
bounds, and he shouted until his hero had disappeared. Soon after, the
three girls and Bob and Jack bade their host and hostess farewell and
sped away over the smooth road which led to Sunnyside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE KING’S HIGHWAY
One day in the week following, Gertrude Willis and Adele were seated on
the front veranda of the Doring home, when the postman came up the walk.
“Does Miss Adele Doring live here?” he asked with twinkling eyes.
“Oh, Mr. Drakely!” Adele exclaimed, skipping down the walk to meet him.
“Have you really a letter for me? Thank you so much! Letters are a rare
treat,” she confided to Gertrude, “because all of my friends live in
Sunnyside, and so there is no one to write to me except Uncle Jerry, but
this letter hasn’t a foreign post-mark and so it isn’t from him. Why,
it’s from Dorchester, and so, of course, Madge Peterson must have
written it. She is that charming artist that I have been telling you
about, Gertrude. I am so eager to have you meet her.”
Then Adele, reseating herself in the porch-swing, tore open the pale
blue envelope, with its delicate odor of spring violets, and read aloud:
“Dear Dryad Oakleaf:
“I just happened to remember that you once told me that you belong to a
clan of seven girls. Are there any among them who have talents which
they are eager to cultivate? If so, do bring them with you on Saturday
mornings to attend the Institute. The more the merrier, and I shall be
glad to have them take luncheon with me, as I shall always expect you
and Eva and Amanda to do.
“Your loving friend,
“Madge Peterson.”
“Oh, Gertrude!” Adele cried joyfully. “Could anything be nicer? I have
so wished that you might go with me to take composition. I am just sure
that you have talent for writing. Do you suppose that your mother could
spare you?”
“If mother will permit me to do my share of the cleaning on Friday,”
Gertrude said, “I would be glad to go, and, since it is vacation, I am
sure that I can. I do want to study everything that will help me to
become a writer. I enjoy that more than anything else, and I am eager to
find some way to earn money, so that I may help educate the babies.
There are so many of us, and a minister’s salary is not princely.”
“Then I will write Miss Peterson this very day and tell her that one of
my dearest, bestest friends will gladly accept her invitation,” Adele
exclaimed happily, as she gave Gertrude an impulsive hug.
Although Adele loved all of the Sunny Six, some way Gertrude was a
little nearer and dearer, and she was beginning to think that, next to
her, she loved Eva Dearman most among her friends.
Mrs. Willis was as pleased with the invitation as Adele and Gertrude had
been, and the very next Saturday four girls instead of three went into
the city of Dorchester. This time they traveled by train, but the
station being within a few blocks of the Institute, the country girls
were in no danger of being lost.