remembered the day on which she and Miss South returning from the North
End had seen Belle and Brenda in Winter Street. The two girls had
disappeared so quickly that she did not suppose at the time that they
had seen her. Now, however, it seemed that they had been merely in
hiding. But of one thing she was sure, she had never spoken of the
encounter to her aunt, and all this torrent of anger on Brenda's part
was wholly uncalled for. It did seem too bad that Brenda should have
taken this tone just as she had begun to hope that she and her cousin
were to understand each other. On the other hand the case was not very
serious, since to Brenda in a calmer mood it would be very easy to give
an explanation. Yet if it were not for her uncle and aunt, who were
always considerate, Julia now felt that it would be hard for her to
continue under the same roof with Brenda. Julia herself, had always been
closely observant of the golden rule. Nor was her piety of the kind that
was displayed only on occasions. She had been most regular in her
attendance at Sabbath-school, and she and Nora and Edith never thought
of letting rain, or heat, or any other thing prevent their attendance at
the morning service as well. But besides these outward observances she
kept the spirit of the teachings of her Church, or tried to keep them in
her daily life. Neither Brenda, therefore, nor any one else could accuse
her of hypocrisy. She believed strongly in the soft answer that turneth
away wrath, and yet no one could say that behind any one else's back she
indulged in harsh criticism.
At luncheon Brenda did not come to the table, and a question or two from
Mrs. Barlow brought out the fact that Brenda had vented on her cousin
part of the annoyance that she had felt at her mother's reproof.
"Of course I shall make it clear to Brenda that I did not get my
information from you. Indeed I do not see how she could have thought so.
I certainly intimated that I had had my information from some one who
had seen her in the hall. In going there with Belle, Brenda broke two
well-understood rules of mine. In the first place she is not allowed to
go down town except with some older person. It the second place I
disapprove of young girls going to matinees of any kind, and the
performance they went to see was not at all a proper one for them. I
know that I had previously declined to take them. Brenda knew my opinion
of this particular performance, and two friends of mine who saw her and
Belle there were exceedingly surprised that I had permitted them to go
alone. They spoke of the matter incidentally to me, and in that way I
learned of Brenda's disobedience. But I am sorry that Brenda should have
troubled you about the affair, for I know that when she is angry she can
say very disagreeable things."
"It is not of very much consequence, Aunt Anna," replied Julia, "as long
as it is a thing that can be straightened out. If I really had seen
Brenda at the Hall, I might have mentioned the fact without realizing
that it could make her so angry, but when she understands about this I
am sure that we shall be as good friends as ever."
"I hope so," responded Mrs. Barlow.
XXVIII
EXPLANATIONS
Now it happened that on Thursday afternoon Julia went to Nora's and
stayed all night. The next morning the two went out to Roxbury to fulfil
a promise to Ruth to pass a day and night with her. Thus it happened
that Julia and Brenda did not see each other until Saturday evening.
They then met in the presence of an elderly friend of Mrs. Barlow's who
had come to stay over Sunday with the family, and so Brenda had no
opportunity of making an apology--if she intended to make one for her
language of the subject of the matinee. For Mrs. Barlow, of course, had
explained her error to Brenda, and though the latter had not expressed
great contrition, her mother knew that in the end she would do what was
right. Luckily Julia herself was not one to feel resentment, for Sunday
passed without her hearing a word on the subject from Brenda.
After the second service on Sunday, Miss South joined Julia just outside
the church door. "I am very glad to see you," she said, "for I was
greatly disappointed in missing you the other day. I have many things to
tell you, if you will walk with me for half an hour."
This Julia was pleased to do, for it was a beautiful afternoon, and
moreover, she was anxious to hear why Miss South had gone away so
suddenly from Edith's, on the afternoon of the Bazaar.
"I must begin at the beginning, Julia," said Miss South, "for you are
old enough to hear a rather romantic story at first hand, which
otherwise you might hear in an incorrect form."
"I won't say that I have been curious, Miss South," replied Julia,
"although I have thought that in some mysterious way your going off had
some connection with Madame Du Launy."
"That is true logic on your part," responded Miss South, "and you will
be interested to hear that I have spent several hours since Wednesday
with Madame Du Launy. Before I forget it I must tell you that she was
very sorry that she could not see you when you called. She told me to
say this to you as a special message from her."
"Thank you," answered Julia, "but I am very anxious to hear what you
have to say. I feel sure that it is something very interesting."
Miss South smiled. "Then I must begin at the very beginning. You may
have noticed that rather striking portrait of a young girl in the room
where Madame Du Launy usually receives her visitors. Well, that young
girl was my mother." Julia naturally gave a start of surprise, and for a
moment her mind occupied itself in reproducing an image of this
portrait. Then Miss South resumed her story.
"Yes, my mother was the only one of Madame Du Launy's children who
married, and she married against her mother's will. My father was a very
independent man, and when his wife's mother said that she would never
forgive her for having married a poor man without family or position, he
accepted this as final. He would not let my mother make any attempt at
reconciliation, yet had she made such efforts I am sure that they would
have been unsuccessful. He took her to Ohio first, and after a time they
moved further west. We lived from the earliest time that I can remember,
very simply and economically, but we had the advantage of good
schools,--we two children, I mean--and when I showed a desire to go to
college I was sent to the State University of the State where we had
grown up. My brother, as I told you, was several years younger than I,
and was only preparing for college when my father died. Our mother had
died when we were little children, and in accordance with our father's
wishes we had heard little about our grandmother besides her name. Once
he had told us that she was an embittered old woman, and that she had
not shown any regard for him, or my mother after her marriage. We knew
that Boston had been our mother's home for a time, although most of her
youth had been spent in wandering around Europe with her parents. After
our father's death I thought once or twice of trying to find out whether
or not our grandmother was alive. But my brother always dissuaded me, so
keen was his resentment for the way she had treated our father. My
telling him that this had been mere prejudice on her part--for she never
had met my father--did not make him change his mind. He made me believe
that it would be disrespect to both our parents if I should seek my
grandmother. When I came to Boston, and heard about this peculiar Madame
Du Launy, who lived opposite the school, I felt that she must be my
grandmother, and some letters and a picture--a small water-color of the
house--made it perfectly clear that in this surmise I was correct.
Before the Bazaar I had decided in the course of the spring, to make
myself known to Madame Du Launy, and I ought to tell you that it was
your account of her gentler side that led me to think seriously of doing
this."
"How very interesting!" cried Julia. "Why, I never heard anything like
it. But why did not Madame Du Launy ever try to find you?"
"For the very good reason that she did not know of my existence. You see
my mother never wrote to her after the first months of her marriage when
my grandmother returned all her letters unopened. Yet Madame Du Launy--I
find it very hard to say 'Grandmother' had heard that my mother had had
one or two children, but she had also been told that they had died. All
that she heard, however, was mere rumor, for she was too proud to write
to my father after her daughter's death. But of late years, she says,
she has been very unhappy, and has thought much about my mother. It was
my close resemblance to her portrait that caused her to faint the other
day. I have a photograph made from that portrait, and occasionally I
dress my hair in the same style, those old fashions are somewhat in
vogue now, and I can do so with propriety. My grandmother says that I am
wonderfully like my mother."
"Dear me!" said Julia, "it is more interesting than a novel. I suppose
that now you will go to live with Madame Du Launy, and we shall lose you
at school."
Miss South smiled. "I shall certainly finish out my present year of
teaching, although it is probable that I may go to live with Madame Du
Launy." Then after a pause, "There is one thing that I ought to say,
Julia, because I know that already it is reported that I am to be a
great heiress. Madame Du Launy has a good income, but it comes from an
annuity, and when she dies it will die with her. She seemed to think
that she ought to explain this to me before asking me to live with her.
The house is hers outright, and she has said that she will give it to me
and my brother. I would not speak of this if it were not that I should
be placed in a false position otherwise. In fact I am the more ready to
go to live with my grandmother, because she is not the enormously rich
woman that she has been represented to be. But now I have talked enough
about myself, so let us turn to the Rosas."
"Why, yes," responded Julia, "I have been wondering whether or not you
had seen them since the Bazaar."
"Yes, I was able to go down yesterday, and I found Mrs. Rosa quite ready
to go to the country. I did not feel at liberty to tell her of the
success of the efforts of 'The Four,' but I told her that money was
certain to be furnished for the expense of removing her, and setting her
up in the little home that we have planned for her."
"Wasn't she perfectly delighted?"
"Well, she did not show a great deal of emotion. She is almost too weak
for that, but I am sure that she is pleased, although she has a certain
amount of regret at leaving the city."
"She ought to be perfectly thankful to leave that wretched place."
"It does not look quite as wretched and dirty to her as it does to us,
and after all home is home, and the North End has been her home for many
years."
"I won't ask what the children think of the change, for I shall see them
myself in a day or two, and I suppose that I ought to be going home now.
But I do wish to tell you how delighted I am about your good fortune in
finding your grandmother. You know that I have grown quite fond of
Madame Du Launy myself, and I have been so sorry for her loneliness that
I am very glad indeed that she is to have you to live with her. Now,
here I suppose that I ought to leave you at this corner, so good-bye
until to-morrow."
"Wait a moment, Julia, I have been so wrapped up in myself that I have
not given you a message from Madame Du Launy. At least she wished me to
tell you that your kindness in running in to see her this spring had
been greatly appreciated, and that she has been made very happy by the
glimpses of fresh, young life that you have given her. In the future she
hopes to see much more of you and of some of your young friends. Poor
grandmother! It is her own fault that she has been so shut out from
people and interesting things here in Boston. But in her youth she was a
very sharped tongued and overbearing woman,--she says this herself--and
she so resented the criticisms which people made on her marriage that
she was only too glad to give up their society, and in return for their
criticisms she said so many sharp things that even if she had wished it,
there was small chance of her having pleasant associations with most of
the families of her acquaintance. Oh! before we part there is one thing
that I must tell you about Mrs. Rosa. It seems that she has been greatly
annoyed lately by a young man, the son of an old friend of hers, who for
several years was in the habit of lending her small sums of money. The
friend had given her to understand that these sums were gifts in
repayment of kindnesses that Mrs. Rosa had done her friend in her youth.
In fact the young man's mother had borrowed from the Rosas in their
prosperous days. Lately, however, this friend has died, and her son has
a little book in which the money lent Mrs. Rosa amounts with interest to
two hundred dollars. He claims that it is a debt due him, and though he
cannot collect anything from a person who has nothing, he annoys Mrs.
Rosa very much by coming to her house and telling her that she ought to
get some of her rich friends to help her pay the debt. He is very well
off himself, for a Portuguese, and his behavior is a kind of
persecution."
"Well," said Julia, "I must tell the girls, for if they should let Mrs.
Rosa have even a little of the money----"
"He would certainly wheedle it from her, and you ought to give them a
word of warning."
As they parted Julia felt that she had many things to think about--many
more things than she had had to consider for a long time. When she
reached home she found the family all discussing some of the rumors that
had come to them about Madame Du Launy and Miss South, and she was glad
that she had had her information at first hand, and that she could
contradict some rather absurd rumors that were in circulation.
"The worst thing about it," said Mrs. Barlow, "appears to be the fact
that by this turn of Fortune's wheel, Miss Crawdon's school is likely to
lose one of its best teachers."
"I am not so sure of that," responded Julia; "I have an idea that Miss
South may continue to teach; she is very fond of her work----"
"But her grandmother will certainly wish her to give all her time to
her, and her first duty will be with her."
"Whatever her duty is, I am sure that she will do it," replied Julia;
"she is the most conscientious person I have ever known; just think of
her going down to see Mrs. Rosa this very week, when she must have had
so much to interest her in at her grandmother's."
"By the way," asked Mr. Barlow, "are Miss South and Madame Du Launy sure
that they are correct in their surmises about the relationship? They
must have some stronger proof than personal resemblance, and the
possession of one or two old pictures."
"Oh, yes," interposed Mrs. Barlow, "I believe that Miss South has many
other proofs to show in the way of letters, certificates, and some other
things that belonged to her mother."
"Then her name, too,--you know she is called Lydia from a sister of
Madame Du Launy's who died young, and--why how foolish we are, of course
Madame Du Launy always knew that the name of the man whom her daughter
married was George South, the name of your teacher's father. One of her
objections to him was his plebeian name," said Mrs. Barlow's cousin who
had remained over Sunday.
Brenda had had less comment to make on these exciting events than had
Julia, and even Mr. and Mrs. Barlow had seemed to take more interest in
this romance of Madame Du Launy and Miss South. If the truth must be
told Brenda was really half worn out. Her vacation had been anything but
restful. The Bazaar by itself need not have tired her had she not in the
latter part of the week spent almost every hour in some kind of vigorous
exercise in search of what she and Belle called "fun." There had been
two long bicycle rides, one dancing party, a three hours' walk to
Brookline and back one day, and other things that really had told on her
strength. Moreover her conscience was pricking her. For on the preceding
afternoon, moved by an impulse which she now regretted, she had
persuaded Nora to go with her to the North End to visit Mrs. Rosa. This
was not long after Miss South had left the sick woman, and they found
Mrs. Rosa somewhat depressed, first at the thought that she was really
going to leave the city, second by the fact that her persistent creditor
had just been in and had told her that he might "take the law on
her"--so she quoted him, if she did not pay the money which he found
written against her name in his mother's little book. Now Mrs. Rosa
ought to have rested herself on Miss South's assurance that the young
man could not make good his claim in law, but she was only a rather
ignorant foreigner to whom the power of the law meant that she might be
dragged off to the nearest police station by the brass-buttoned
officers. She did not tell the young girls about her creditor, but when
they pitied her for looking so ill, she sighed so sadly that they felt
very sorry indeed for her. Marie, who had accompanied them to the North
End had left them for a quarter of an hour to see a friend of hers
living in the neighborhood, and then Brenda had no one but Nora to
remonstrate with her for any folly she might wish to commit. When,
therefore, out of a small bag which she carried, she took her
purse,--her best purse with the silver monogram,--and when from the
purse she extracted the three hundred-dollar notes, the proceeds of the
Bazaar, even Nora gave a little gasp.
"Why, Brenda, how did you ever dare to bring that money down to this
part of the city?"
"Why shouldn't I, you goose! I am sure that it will do Mrs. Rosa more
good to see this money than anything else possibly could. See! Mrs.
Rosa" she continued, "this is all yours, this three hundred dollars that
we made at the Bazaar that we have been telling you about----" For Nora
and she had expatiated on the charms of the occasion--the flowers, the
music, and the many pretty articles that had been displayed on the
tables. In fact they had brought several simple little things as
presents for Mrs. Rosa and the children, and while the former probably
did not understand all that they said to her, she did realize that some
one had been at a great deal of trouble for her, and that this money was
the result.
"All for me, oh tank you," she said, reaching her hand out towards the
bills. Nora hastily jerked Brenda's arm.
"You mustn't give them to her."
Now up to this moment, Brenda had had no intention of doing this. "Why,
Nora, really I think that I understand things as well as you do." Nora
for the moment forgot the effect which opposition usually had on Brenda.
Mrs. Rosa glanced questioningly from one girl to the other.
"Why, yes, you may look at them close too, you may hold them," said
Brenda, laying the bills on Mrs. Rosa's transparent hand. The expression
on the poor woman's face brightened.
"The money means a great deal to her," said Nora, sympathetically.
"Yes," answered Brenda, "you see that I was right in giving it to her, I
mean in letting her see it. She has a little color in her cheeks
already. She knows what that money can do for her and her children." It
was hard enough for Mrs. Rosa to understand English when spoken in a
full voice, and she made no effort to comprehend the undertone in which
the two girls were speaking.
"Are they for me to keep?" she asked eagerly.
"Not now," responded Brenda, "but by and by, next week, perhaps you
shall have a little money to spend, and some of it we may spend for you
to take you to the country, you know."
"Come, Brenda," said Nora, "we must not stay too long, if the children
are not to be back until five o'clock, we cannot wait to see them. We
ought to be watching for Marie now."
"I know, I know," retorted Brenda, impatiently, "I shall be ready when
you are."
"If I could just have this money in the house for a little while," said
Mrs. Rosa, with her quaint accent, "I should be so happy. I think it
would make me sleep. I haven't slept for _so_ long," and she sighed and
looked paler than ever.
"Poor thing," said Brenda, "I wish that I could give it to you now.
Indeed I do not know why I should not, it is certainly yours, and I do
not care for the responsibility myself,"--this speciously, for Brenda
knew perfectly well that her father stood ready to take care of the
money.
"Nora," she called rather sharply, "I think that we ought to let Mrs.
Rosa have this money until we are ready to spend it. It is really hers
now, people would not have come to the Bazaar, except to help the
Rosas."
"Now, Brenda," cried Nora, "don't be foolish. I cannot imagine your
doing so crazy a thing. It was bad enough for you to have brought the
money down here. It was an awful risk, for suppose you had lost the
purse,--oh, my," with a change of tone, "why there is Manuel. I must run
out and speak to him," and in her usual heedless way Nora left the room
with little thought for the subject which she and Brenda had the moment
before been discussing.
Left alone with Mrs. Rosa, Brenda felt an increase of pity for the poor,
pale woman, who looked as if she had very little more time to live. As
she handled the bills with feverish fingers, Brenda made a quick
resolve.
"Why should I not give her a pleasure that will cost me so little, and I
am sure that no reasonable person can object.
"Mrs. Rosa," she said, leaning forward, "if I should let you keep that
money for a few days, would you promise not to let the children see it.
You must keep it right in this purse, and never let it out of your
sight. I mean when any one is here you must keep it under your pillow,
though of course when you are alone you can look at it."
Mrs. Rosa smiled gratefully, and Brenda taking the bills began to put
them back in her portemonnaie. "I think," she said reflectively, "that I
will keep one of these bills in case there are special things that Miss
South or Julia may have planned for you." She could afford to be liberal
in her feelings now that she was getting ready to do something that in
the bottom of her heart she knew that the others who were interested in
Mrs. Rosa would not approve. So she tied up the one hundred dollar bill,
that she intended to keep, in a corner of her handkerchief, and placed
it carefully in the bottom of her bag.
"Remember," she said, as she handed the little purse to Mrs. Rosa,
"remember that you are not to spend this."
"O, I remember, I promise, miss," responded Mrs. Rosa, and just at this
moment Nora reopened the door.
"Come, Brenda," she said, "Marie is outside waiting, and we ought to
start for home at once. Good-bye, Mrs. Rosa, I suppose we shall hardly
see you again in this uncomfortable room. Come on, Brenda, how long it
takes you to put your gloves on!"
Brenda, of course was greatly relieved that Nora asked not another word
about the money. But all the same her conscience had begun to trouble
her, and after she reached home could she have thought of any way to do
it, without betraying herself, she would have sent down to Mrs. Rosa's
for the purse and its contents. On Sunday, at least in the morning, she
had felt reassured.
"What possibility," she thought, "is there that anything could happen to
the money. There might be a fire at the North End, but so there might be
at the Back Bay. Perhaps she ought to have let her father put it in the
bank. Well on Monday morning she would go down, perhaps before school if
she could wake early enough. But on Sunday it was out of the question."
So she had reasoned until Sunday afternoon. Then as she heard Julia tell
what Miss South had said to her, she became very nervous.
"Oh, dear," she thought. "Oh, dear, what _shall_ I do if anything has
happened to that money?"
XXIX
AFTER VACATION
On Monday morning as might have been expected, Brenda did not awake very
early, and though she had a few uneasy minutes as she thought of Mrs.
Rosa, on the whole she was too much absorbed by her preparations for
school to worry over what had now become a very unpleasant subject to
her.
At school all was bustle and excitement for the quarter hour preceding
the opening. Some of the girls had been in New York, or even as far as
Washington during the vacation, and they had much to tell of their
doings. Even those girls who had remained in Boston had had very
exciting experiences, or at least this seemed to have been the case
judging by the eager tones in which they talked, and the effort of each
girl to make herself heard above all the others. If there had been
nothing else eventful among the girls of the set to which The Four
belonged, the Bazaar would have afforded abundant food for discussion.
Even the older girls were interested in this affair, and felt proud of
the success of their schoolmates. This morning, too, was an exciting one
at the school, because it marked the beginning of the spring term--the
last term of regular school for several of Miss Crawdon's pupils, who
next year were to take their place in society. Already in their spring
gowns, modeled after the styles of their elders, they looked like young
women, and their sweeping skirts and elaborate hats seemed to put a gulf
between them and their younger companions. Among the girls of
intermediate age there was also a special reason for dreading the spring
term, for during the few remaining weeks, two or three of them besides
Ruth and Julia were to concentrate all their energy on preparation for
the preliminary college examinations. Not all of these girls were likely
to go to college, but Miss Crawdon had encouraged them to prepare for
the examinations, hoping that their success in passing them might lead
them eventually to take the college course.