result of her father's desire that she should have some knowledge of
domestic matters before she left school. Dr. Gostar was a busy man,
having little time to spend with his children. His practice was large,
but as he gave his services as willingly to poor as to rich people, he
had not accumulated much money. Nora's home, however, was a very
pleasant one. The numerous members of the family used all the rooms with
the greatest freedom. As the four other members of the household besides
Dr. and Mrs. Gostar and Nora were boys, the furnishings of the house had
a well-worn, comfortable look. No one was kept out of any particular
room. The boys had a large play and workroom in the attic, but when they
wished to sit in the library (which other people might have called a
"drawing-room") they were not forbidden.
Mrs. Gostar, though fond of society, was never too busy to hear what her
children had to say, to read to them or hear them tell about their
school, or to sympathize with them in any way. She had agreed with Dr.
Gostar when he had expressed a wish to have Nora learn cooking.
"I am anxious," he had said, "that my little daughter shall know how to
cook. I have been so often in houses where wives and mothers have been
quite helpless when a cook left, that I should be very sorry to have
Nora grow up as ignorant as they. I know that a great deal of sickness
comes from eating badly prepared food."
Nora herself had been rather pleased at the prospect of learning to
cook. But Belle thought it very vulgar, and for a time was not sure
whether or not she would join the cooking-class.
During the first winter the girls had had lessons once a week. But
through this season of Julia's arrival in Boston, they had met to
practice cooking only once a month. The lessons always were given at
Nora's house, because, as Edith said, her cook wasn't too fashionable to
let them fuss around in the kitchen.
The first winter they had had a teacher, but this year they were
supposed to know enough to concoct certain dishes themselves. The
cooking party took place on the third Friday of the month, and from six
to eight the girls were busy cooking. At eight o'clock any guests whom
they had invited arrived, and at nine o'clock they had a little supper.
They were not permitted to have too elaborate a bill of fare. Even as it
was, Belle's grandmother protested against what she called an
indigestible supper served at this hour. As a matter of fact it was not
apt to be indigestible. Dr. Gostar himself usually made out the list of
eatables. Light salads, simple cakes, bouillon, ices, blanc-manges,
jellies, oysters or eggs cooked in various styles, and chocolate
prepared with whipped cream, were conspicuous on the list from which he
made his selection. But the girls on any given evening were restricted
to one sweet, one solid and two kinds of cake. With the assistance of a
maid each girl in turn set the table, and sometimes, besides their young
friends, their parents were present to see what their skill and taste
had accomplished.
"There, there, Edith, I'm sure your cake is burning," cried Nora on the
Friday evening after their talk with Philip.
"Oh, dear, I can't do anything about it now; I've cut my fingers," and
Edith held up her hands rather plaintively.
"Here, take my handkerchief," said Brenda; and before Edith could stop
her she was binding up the wound with a delicate lace-trimmed
handkerchief. It was Agnes's birthday present to her, sent from Paris,
and intended only for full dress occasion.
"Why, Brenda, that lovely handkerchief!" exclaimed Belle, who was
looking on.
"Oh, it won't hurt it. How does your finger feel, Edith?"
"It feels all right, for it wasn't a deep cut, but with my right hand
tied up I don't believe I can lift that cake out of the oven," and Edith
looked about helplessly, for she was not used to battling with
difficulties.
Over her dress each girl wore a long-sleeved blue-checked apron--each of
them at least except Julia. This was her first appearance at the
cooking-club, and as Brenda had forgotten to tell her about the aprons,
she was unprepared. She had on a small white apron, borrowed from Nora,
and when Edith spoke about the cake, she seized a holder, and opening
the oven door, lifted the pan out. As Edith feared, the cake was burned,
though not the whole top, but black spots here and there gave it a very
unsightly appearance, and Edith felt very much disturbed as she looked
at it.
"How provoking! That was the only cake we were to have to-night, and
there isn't time to make another."
"Oh, we can do something," cried Julia. "Let me help you."
"I don't see what we can do," half moaned Edith.
"I'll show you," cried Julia hopefully. "You have plenty of sugar and
eggs--and----"
"But really there isn't time to make anything not to speak of baking it,
and, oh, dear, I am so unlucky!" sighed poor Edith.
"Nonsense," said Julia. "You haven't any idea what I can do. I shall
just have to show you," and she began to break the eggs into a bowl,
beating them and stirring into them a liberal amount of sugar. "Run,
Brenda," she cried, "and bring me a sheet of that brown wrapping paper."
Brenda obeyed, and after buttering the paper, Julia dropped her mixture
of sugar and eggs, a spoonful at a time, here and there, on the paper.
"Oh, I know," cried Brenda. "Kisses, but I never would have thought of
it myself."
"Well," responded Julia, "there is nothing you can bake so quickly, and
almost every one likes them. There, this first batch must be ready now,"
and she opened the oven door to remove the pan with its sheet of kisses,
delicately browned and of the size and shape that a confectioner could
not surpass. Two or three other lots were baked before there were
enough. By the time they were finished Edith's finger had ceased to pain
her, and she was helping place the other eatables on the dumb-waiter.
From the floor above there came the sound of laughter, and the voices of
the boys could be heard mingled with those of the girls as they called
to the three kitchen maidens.
At last, with the help of Hannah, the maid, who had come down from the
floor above, all the kitchen work was declared at an end.
"That's all," shouted Brenda, as Belle and Philip gave a final pull on
the cords of the dumb-waiter.
A moment later Edith and Julia and Brenda entered the dining-room, with
faces perhaps a little flushed, but otherwise looking very unlike the
three cooks they had been a few minutes before.
Under Nora's direction the dining-table had been exquisitely arranged.
There was a great glass bowl of pink roses in the centre, and the plates
and cups were of china with a wild rose border. The candles in the
silver candelabra at each end of the table had pink shades.
"There, you go, Philip, and tell the others that supper is ready," said
Nora, glancing at the table and giving a final touch to one or two
dishes.
With Philip leading, the guests trooped into the dining-room. "Trooped"
is perhaps too boisterous a word to apply to the procession of young
people who came into the room two at a time with a fair amount of
dignity. To Julia, in fact, they appeared to a certain extent to be
imitating the demeanor of their elders. She could not help thinking that
the manner with which Belle let herself be led to a chair was entirely
too coquettish, and only Nora seemed to be her real self in the presence
of the guests.
But Julia was not a harsh critic, and before very long she forgot that
she had not always known these merry young people. She laughed at the
jokes made by the boys, although she did not always see the point of
them. Most of these jokes turned on something connected with college.
For every one of them was in Harvard, although some were only Freshmen.
The stories that they thought the funniest dealt with the queer things
that some of their friends had had to do when undergoing initiation into
one of the College Societies, and many of their doings seemed really
inane.
Before they had been long in the dining-room Mrs. Gostar joined them,
and later Dr. Gostar himself appeared. The presence of these elder
people lessened the laughter only a very little, for all the young
people knew that Dr. Gostar enjoyed fun as well as they.
"What was the catastrophe to-night?" he asked Nora, for it was a
favorite joke of his that at each meeting of the cooking-class some dish
suffered. When he had heard about the disaster to Edith's cake he
praised Julia so heartily for having come to the rescue that she blushed
deeply. Even without this success in cooking, Julia would have been
voted a great addition to the cooking-class. There was something very
pleasing in her gentle manners, and Belle, to her surprise, found
herself growing a little jealous of Brenda's cousin. Before this she had
not thought her sufficiently important to arouse jealousy.
XII
CONCERNING JULIA
In the meantime the Four Club held regular meetings, and every Thursday
afternoon Julia heard Edith and Nora and Belle rushing up past her door
to Brenda's room on the floor above. Of course in a general way she knew
what was going on, for the affairs of the Four Club were no secret. Yet
although from time to time Brenda and her friends dropped a word or two
regarding their doings, they never talked very freely about the club.
Nora and Edith were silent because they were sorry that they could not
persuade Brenda to let them invite Julia to the meetings. Brenda said
little about the club, because possibly she was ashamed of her own
indifference. As to Belle, she never had had much to say to Julia, and
in this case although she felt pleased that her influence chiefly had
kept Brenda from counting her cousin in the club group, she hardly
ventured to express this feeling in words. There might as well have been
five girls as four in the group working for the Bazaar and no one knew
this better than Brenda and Belle themselves.
Although Julia had a pretty correct idea of what was going on, she tried
to show no feeling in the matter. Her studies, her music, and her
exercise occupied almost all her afternoons, and she reasoned with
herself that even if she had been invited, it would have been only a
waste of time for her to spend hours at fancy-work, which might
otherwise have been more profitably employed. But after a while, when
through the half-open door she heard her friends running upstairs, she
sometimes felt a thrill of disappointment that they did not care enough
for her to stop on their way to ask her to join them. Now Julia meant
always to be fair in her thoughts, as well as in her actions towards
others. So at first when she found that she was left out of the plans of
her cousin and her friends, she reasoned with herself somewhat in this
fashion.
"Now, Julia, you know that you are a newcomer, and you cannot expect
that you will be taken in all at once, just wait."
But after she had waited a good while, she began to feel a little hurt,
although she did her best to conceal her feeling from Nora and Edith. In
the meantime the latter two girls argued warmly with Brenda, and tried
to make her see that it was mean to keep Julia out of the Four Club.
"Nonsense," said Belle, who happened to overhear them, "Julia herself
would say that it was awfully stupid to sit for a whole afternoon,
sewing."
"Well, if she did not work harder than--well than Brenda does, she would
not be very much bored; besides she could look out of the window part of
the time, the view there is perfectly fine," responded the lively Nora.
Brenda had tried to speak when Nora had made this very unflattering
allusion to her own lack of industry, and when Nora finished she said,
holding up a square of linen on which a wreath of yellow flowers was
half embroidered,
"There, I've done all this this month."
"That's very good for you," said Belle, patronizingly, "but I'd be
willing to bet----"
"Don't say 'bet,'" murmured Edith.
"I'd be willing to bet anything," continued Belle, "that you'll never
finish it."
"Why, Belle," continued the others.
"No, you won't," repeated Belle, "you never could, you'll get tired of
the pattern or of the color, or you will spoil it in some way, and throw
it into the fire, or worse into that bottom drawer of yours with all
those other specimens."
Brenda, instead of growing angry at this, only laughed.
"Well if I don't wish to finish it, I certainly won't," she replied.
"But it happens that I have made up my mind to finish it this Autumn,
before Christmas, in fact, so you can make your bet as large as you
please, and pay the money into the fund for Manuel's benefit, for I
shall win."
The girls were all a little surprised at Brenda's reply. She was more
ready usually to answer pettishly any criticism made by Belle.
"Very well," said Belle, "Edith and Nora are my witnesses, and we shall
watch to see when you finish that centrepiece."
"Yes, indeed, Brenda," laughed Nora, "indeed we shall follow the career
of this wreath with great interest, and now since you seem to be in an
amiable frame of mind, let us go back to Julia. It seems terribly mean
not to ask her to join us."
The pleasant expression on Brenda's face changed to a frown.
"I've told you often that Julia would not enjoy working with us, and it
would just spoil everything to have her come."
"Of course it's your house, Brenda, and you started the club, and Julia
is your cousin, so Edith and I have not the same right to say anything,
but it seems to me very unkind to leave her out."
"There, I don't want to hear anything more about it," cried Brenda,
"haven't Belle and I both said that Julia would not enjoy herself,
sewing with us, and it would not be a 'four club,' and I don't want to
hear anything more about it."
By this time Brenda's voice was positively snappish, and Edith looked up
in alarm. But Nora was undismayed.
"Nonsense, Brenda," she cried, "Belle said that Julia would not enjoy
the cooking class, though I'm perfectly sure that no one there had a
better time, and the boys thought that she was splendid, didn't they,
Edith?"
"Yes," returned Edith, "Philip was surprised; he said she was fine, he
always supposed that she was a kind of blue-stocking with glasses,
and----"
Here Brenda interrupted, "Well, I'm sure that I never said anything like
that to him, and I shouldn't think that you would, Edith."
"Of course, I didn't," responded Edith, indignantly, "it was something
Frances Pounder said, and well--Belle----"
"Now, Belle, I do wish that you would not say things about my cousin,"
broke in Brenda.
"Oh," cried Belle, "you wish to have the privilege of saying everything
yourself; but you might as well let other people have a chance."
"Philip did not mean that anybody said anything particularly
disagreeable about Julia, only he had a sort of an idea that she did not
like people, and that she would not join much in any fun that we might
plan."
"Oh, what nonsense, Edith!" exclaimed Nora, "she likes fun as well as
any of us, only she is just a little quiet herself. She wants somebody
else to start the fun for her."
"Well, she does not dance," said Belle, "and a girl can't have much fun
if she does not dance."
"I know that she does not care for round dances, at least her father
would not let her learn, but I'm sure that she does the Virginia Reel as
well as anybody, and the Portland Fancy. Why she was as graceful as, as
anything the other evening," concluded Nora.
But all the conversation at the meetings of the Four Club did not
concern Julia and her absence from the club. The girls had many other
things to discuss, and their tongues were often more active than their
needles. Sometimes as their merry voices floated down to Julia, the
young girl sighed. It is never pleasant for any one to think that she is
not wanted in any gathering of her friends, although in this special
case Julia had no great desire to devote even one of her afternoons to
needlework. Nevertheless she could not repress a sigh that she was of so
little consequence to Brenda and her friends.
Before Thanksgiving came, the club really seemed in a fair way of
realizing its plans for a sale. Edith had finished two or three dainty
sets of doilies, for she worked out of club hours. Nora's afghan was at
least a quarter made, a great accomplishment for Nora. Belle had several
articles to show, and even Brenda had persevered with her centrepiece
until hardly more than a quarter of the embroidery remained unfinished.
Moreover several of the girls at school had promised to help, on
condition that nothing should be expected of them until after Christmas.
"That will be time enough," the Four always answered, "for we shall not
have the sale until Easter week."
The girls at school were especially interested when they heard that the
Bazaar was to be for the benefit of Manuel, not that any one of them had
a clear idea of his needs. But they felt an interest in him because they
believed that his life had been saved by one of their number. There
were, to be sure, one or two sceptics, like Frances Pounder, who said
that of course the child had been in no great danger, for in his own
part of the city children are in the habit of playing most of the time
under the very feet of the horses passing that way. "And who," the wise
Frances had added, "ever heard of a child like that having so much as a
leg broken?"
But Frances was not infallible, and many of the girls had heard of
accidents to poor children. If they had not, the fact remained, which
Nora and Brenda and half a dozen others were ready to testify to that
Manuel had been in great danger on the memorable day of his rescue. With
his danger granted, it was plain enough that caring for him became a
duty imposed on his rescuers.
With little opportunity to show it, Julia had as much interest in Manuel
as the other girls. Strange though it may seem, he was the first very
poor person with whom she had been brought in contact. For in the
secluded life which she had led with her father, she had not seen a
great variety of people. It is true that in traveling she had often come
across miserable looking and ill-clad women and children, and she knew
very well that there were many like them in the world. With her own
allowance she subscribed to a number of charities, but her father had
not encouraged her greatly in this kind of thing. His own ill health had
had the rather unusual effect of making him unsympathetic towards forms
of misery unlike the kind which had been sent to him. He thought, too,
that young people should be as closely sheltered as possible from the
knowledge of the dark side of life. He gave liberally to hospitals, but
poverty in itself did not appeal to him. On that account Julia was not
permitted to hear or to see much of actual poverty.
But Julia, on the other hand, had always had the greatest desire to help
the less fortunate, and to know more about the conditions of their
lives. She was therefore greatly pleased when one day in a book-shop she
found a copy of "How The Other Half Lives." It was very suggestive to
her, and buying it she had read it at home eagerly from cover to cover.
Now she knew that in Boston she was not likely to see any cases of
misery as extreme as those described in that famous book, and yet in the
midst of the luxury of her uncle's house she often wished that she could
do something to help the poor. But Julia, in spite of her self-reliance
in practical matters, was rather shy, and whenever she thought of
speaking to her aunt on the subject, she hesitated in fear lest she
should be thought presumptuous. Manuel and his wants, when Brenda and
Nora came home full of what they had seen at the North End, seemed to
her an opportunity. She hoped, indeed she almost expected that she would
be invited to go with them on a second visit. Her disappointment in this
matter was even greater than that which came from being left out of the
"Four Club." There were things she knew that she could have done for
Manuel and his mother, and even if Brenda and her friends were able to
provide for all his wants, there must be others in the same neighborhood
as poor as he. Yet week after week passed away, and no chance seemed to
open for her to tell Brenda what she would like to do. At school Julia
was left much to herself. The girls near her own age were so absorbed in
their own affairs that they seldom had a thought for the lonely
stranger. They had so many things to talk about in which Julia had no
part,--the dancing class, the bowling club--and a thousand and one
harmless bits of gossip harmless for the most part, though sometimes
carrying with them a little sting. When Julia sat or walked with one of
these chattering groups she felt that she was only tolerated, and she
could seldom join intelligently in what was said, and often a dropping
of the voice, or an only half-intentional glance of significance made
her feel herself in the way. To be sure there were Edith and Nora, of
the set a little younger than the girls with whom she recited. They were
undeniably her friends, and yet Brenda and Belle had a fashion of
dragging them off at recess without giving Julia an invitation to
follow, and the latter had too much sense to care to bring herself too
often within the reach of Belle's sharp tongue. So though she sat or
walked by herself, the older girls who noticed her excused themselves
with "Oh, if she cared to go with any one she would walk with Brenda and
Nora and the others of the 'Four,'" for in school, as in the club the
"Four" had come to have a special meaning. On the other hand Brenda and
Belle would usually say to the remonstrating Edith and Nora:
"What is the use of talking, Julia is in the classes with the older
girls, and she ought to make friends with them. She really doesn't
belong with us, and there is not the least reason why we should have her
on our minds all the time." Now there is hardly any classification of
persons more definite and rigid than that which separates the girls of
one age at school from those who are a year or two older, or a year or
two younger. Nor did Julia generally repine at her own situation. She
thought it perfectly natural that the other girls should be slow in
admitting her to intimacy. If she had any feeling it was regret that her
own cousin seemed so indifferent to her.
XIII
GREAT EXPECTATIONS
For a week before Thanksgiving there was great excitement among the
schoolgirls on account of the approaching football game. The "Four" were
as excited as the others, although not so many of their own particular
friends were in the Harvard team. It was to be a game with Princeton,
one of the great University matches, and for special reasons there was
the deepest interest in the match. Those girls who had brothers in
college, or even cousins or friends, held themselves with more dignity
than any of the others, and those who had relatives in the team "were
too proud for anything," as Brenda said. The game was to be played in
Holmes' Field, and tickets were not easy to get, because the seats were
far less numerous than now on the great Soldiers' Field. The girls were
making up little groups to go to the game with youths of their
acquaintance as escorts, under the chaperonage of older people. A few
who had received no invitation were especially miserable, and took no
trouble to disguise their feelings.
Edith at this time became unusually popular, because it was known that
her mother had given her permission to arrange a large party to
accompany her to the game, and every girl was hoping for an
invitation--every girl, at least who had not been invited elsewhere to
go in some other party.
Now Edith was of a generally generous disposition, and not inclined to
limit her favors, of whatever nature, to any particular set of girls.
For this reason she had to bear many a reproof from Belle, and even
occasionally from Brenda, both of whom were inclined to be more
exclusive.
So it happened that the general harmony of "The Four" was somewhat
disturbed when Nora one day at recess exclaimed,
"Who do you suppose is going with us to the game?" For of course in the
minds of the others there could be but one "game," and that the one to
which they all wished to go.
"Why, who is it?" cried Brenda, and "Who is it?" echoed Belle.
"I know that you can't guess."
"Oh, don't be silly, Nora, it wouldn't be worth while to guess about
something you'll know all about so soon, except that you speak as if it
were some one we might not care to have, and if that's the case, I
declare it's too bad," said Belle.
"If it's anything like that," broke in Brenda, rather snappishly, "I
will just tell Edith what I think."
"_It_--_that_," cried Nora, "didn't I say that it was a person, a girl,
if I must be more definite, Ruth Roberts, if I must tell just who it
is."
"Oh," cried Belle, and "Ah," echoed Brenda.