perhaps I should say talking--as eagerly as the others. They had many
little points to talk over regarding the requirements for college, the
special tutoring they might need, and similar things. Julia, although
she had been conscientious in her work during the winter, really did
dread the coming ordeal. Examinations of any kind were new to her, for
until the past winter her studies had always been carried on in an
individual way. It was still a sore point with Brenda that Julia should
think of going to college. She felt certain that teaching was her
cousin's ultimate aim, and she did not like the idea at all. A few years
before this Brenda had been remarkably free from anything resembling
snobbishness. This may have been partly on account of her youth,
although a more probable reason was that she had not in her earliest
days so many snobbish friends to influence her. For in spite of her
intimacy with Nora and Edith, Brenda permitted herself to be too greatly
influenced by Belle. Frances Pounder, too, was only one of a group of
girls much less simple-minded than Brenda, whom the latter had come to
associate with rather closely. Any one of them would have indignantly
denied a special regard for money. They would have been pained had you
said that they made wealth a consideration in choosing their friends.
Yet this was what it amounted to,--their way of cavilling at those who
did not belong to their set. They said that family was the only
consideration with them. But I doubt that a very poor girl, however good
her family, would have been considered by them as welcome as a richer
girl of poorer family. There was Julia, for example, who had in every
way as strong a claim to consideration as Brenda--for were not the two
cousins? Yet Frances invariably had some little supercilious thing to
say about Julia--except in the presence of Nora and Edith--and the
superciliousness came largely from the fact that she regarded Julia as a
poor relation of the Barlows. "She can never be of any great use,"
Frances had reasoned, "to us;" including in the latter term all the
girls with whom she was intimate, "and therefore what is the good in
pretending to be fond of a strong-minded girl who may in a few years be
a teacher in a public school? I honestly think that she would just as
soon as not teach in a public school, Brenda, for I heard her praising
public schools to the sky the other day. I'm sure I wonder that she does
not go to a public school instead of to Miss Crawdon's. It would save
your father and mother a lot of money," concluded Frances, forgetting
that how Mr. and Mrs. Barlow spent their money was really no concern of
hers. At times Frances laid aside her good manners. Brenda never knew
just how to respond to speeches of this kind, and their chief effect was
a little feeling of irritation that a cousin of hers should have put
herself in this position of being classed with mere wage-earners. Brenda
was no longer jealous of Julia in the ordinary sense. She had begun to
lose the childish pettishness of her earlier years. Observation was
teaching her that even in the one household there could be room for two
girls near the same age, and that any privileges or affection accorded
Julia did not interfere with her own rights. Indeed had she been
perfectly honest with herself she would have admitted that Julia's
companionship during the past winter had really been of great value to
her. If any one were to tell her that Julia was not to be in the house
with her another year, she would have admitted that she would be lonely.
In spite of the childishness which Brenda sometimes showed towards her
cousin, the two girls saw a great deal of each other, and Brenda had
lately acquired the habit of slipping into her cousin's room on her way
up and downstairs to talk over little happenings of one kind or another.
But at school on this bright spring morning, Brenda felt some irritation
at the sight of Julia and Ruth in close consultation with the Greek
teacher. "He has such sharp eyes," whispered Frances, as she and Brenda
passed him in the hallway. "Don't you feel as if he were always looking
right through you, and saying, 'you're a little ignoramus; every one is
who does not study Greek with me.'"
"Oh, how tiresome you are, Frances," responded Brenda crossly; "I dare
say Miss Crawdon will say that, too, in the English class at the close
of the next hour unless you have a better composition than I have."
"Why, Brenda Barlow, I had forgotten all about it, and we were expected
to have it ready this morning. Have you written yours?"
"No," replied Brenda, "I forgot mine, too. There were so many other
things to think of last week."
It happened, naturally enough, that Brenda and Frances and several other
girls who had neglected their compositions in the same way received a
reprimand from Miss Crawdon, who thereupon said,
"Since so little English written work has been handed in to-day, I will
submit a composition of my own to you for criticism. It is very simple,
and consists merely of a brief description of an evening party, supposed
to be the work of a girl of about your age.
"Now listen, 'I have seldom had so nice a time as at Clara Gordon's
party. In the first place the house is a particularly nice one, and the
room where we danced has the nicest floor for waltzing that I ever saw.
Then there were so many nice people there, all the girls and young men
whom I know especially well, and some others from out of town. The
orchestra played divinely. I never heard nicer music, and John Brent, my
partner in the German, was just as nice to me as he could be. I wish
that I could describe the nice supper that we had at nice little tables
in the dining-room. There was every imaginable kind of nice thing, ices,
salads, and cakes. The sherbet was so nice that some persons who sat
down late could not get any. It was all gone. I got along very nicely,
for John Brent looked out for me. I have not told you about the dresses,
but they were all so nice that it is hard to say which was the nicest. I
danced until I could hardly stand, for I was determined not to miss a
single dance, but when my aunt tried to urge me to go home before twelve
o'clock so that I wouldn't be tired to death, I wouldn't give in for a
moment, but told her that I felt quite nicely.'
"There," said Miss Crawdon, "this is a longer composition than many of
you have prepared to-day, and mine is voluntary, while many of you have
failed to carry out what was really a command laid upon you. What do you
think of my composition?"
While she was reading, some of the girls had rubbed their eyes in
amazement. It did not take even the duller very long however to see that
Miss Crawdon had been playing a practical joke upon them. She had always
had a great deal to say to them on the necessity of a wide vocabulary,
and she had been particularly severe towards those girls who made the
adjective "nice" take the place of more expressive words. "You noticed,
perhaps," continued Miss Crawdon, "that I have not been extravagant in
the matter of adjectives, at least I have been extravagant in the use of
only one, for I have been able to make 'nice' serve in almost every
instance where an adjective was needed, and in none of these instances
was it used in its own proper sense."
Those girls who had not previously seen the joke, now glanced at one
another in amazement. Yes, it really was a practical joke, this little
composition by Miss Crawdon, and they had only begun to find it out.
Then Miss Crawdon spoke again.
"I will not pretend that my composition has cost me much effort. Indeed,
I only wrote it here in school in the few minutes at my disposal before
the opening hour. I need not say also that it is the result of a few
hastily jotted notes, based on scraps of conversation which came to me
as I passed various groups of my pupils, at recess or before school.
But, seriously," and all eyes were fixed on her, "I do wish that you
would avoid the word 'nice' altogether for the present, unless you can
resist the temptation to make it do duty on all occasions. Now, hoping
that you will take this lesson to heart, I will leave you to Miss South,
who will talk to you for a quarter of an hour on the subject of letter
writing."
Thereupon Miss South took Miss Crawdon's place, and the girls had no
opportunity to exchange opinions regarding Miss Crawdon's humorous, if
brief, essay.
Miss Crawdon and Miss South were joint teachers of this class in
English. Miss South had charge of it oftener than Miss Crawdon. But the
latter had general supervision of it, and as the first hour of certain
mornings was given to it, occasionally Miss South was permitted to
arrive at school a little late, while Miss Crawdon took her place. When
Miss South was late it was not on account of any dilatoriness of her
own; it was usually business of Miss Crawdon's that detained her--for
she was Miss Crawdon's trusted friend--and she often had to go to the
bank, or to hold an interview with an anxious parent, or to do some
other thing by which Miss Crawdon might be spared care or unnecessary
steps.
On this special Monday morning, however, Miss South was not only late,
but she looked a little worried. Many of the girls had heard of the
newly discovered relationship between her and Madame Du Launy, and in
the quarter hour before school, the story of the discovery, with a few
slight variations from accuracy, had been talked over very freely. When
Miss South did not appear to take charge of the English class, most of
her pupils assumed that she was no longer to be a teacher at Miss
Crawdon's. They were therefore astonished when she entered the room, as
ready to assume her school duties as if she had had no change of
fortune.
Yet, as I have said, Miss South looked a little worried, and her glance
wandered two or three times in the direction of Brenda in a way that
caused Brenda's conscience to reassert itself.
"Oh, dear," she thought, "what shall I do if Miss South has heard about
that money? Of course it is no concern of hers, but still, but
still----"
Now Brenda did not know exactly what she dreaded, for her idea of the
value of money was very vague. She only knew that she had not done right
in leaving the two hundred dollars with Mrs. Rosa. Yet she consoled
herself with the reflection, "At any rate I have a third of that money
safe at home, and that is a great deal to have saved, if anything has
happened to the rest."
Nora, too, had come late to school, though Brenda had been too much
carried away by the excitement of seeing the other girls again to notice
this. Later in the morning Nora slipped into her accustomed place, and
her face, too, though Brenda had not observed it, looked a little more
serious than usual.
It was not until the end of school that the storm burst. At recess Nora,
contrary to her usual custom, had remained at her desk studying. But
after school she ran up to Brenda, with an "Oh, how _could_ you, Brenda?
We have lost almost the whole advantage from the Bazaar! Miss South and
I were down at the Rosas this morning--I promised not to say anything to
you, until after school--and, well, Miss South will tell you. I can't
bear to talk about it."
"Brenda," said Miss South, drawing near, "I suppose that you would like
me to tell you about Mrs. Rosa's money, yet I do not feel that it is a
matter with which I ought to meddle. I had nothing to do with raising
the money, only I have been interested in the plan by means of which you
all wished to help the poor woman."
"We all think that you have been very kind," interposed Nora, politely.
"Ah, I have been. I am very much interested in Mrs. Rosa and her
family--and so I know is Brenda," for she saw a cloud settling on the
young girl's face.
"But you were not exactly wise, Brenda, in leaving that money with Mrs.
Rosa."
"Has it been stolen?" gasped Brenda.
"Well, not exactly stolen, although Mrs. Rosa no longer has it."
"Brenda," interrupted Nora, "I certainly begged you not to leave it
there. Though I never imagined that you would do so."
"Well, Brenda," continued Miss South, "Nora received a letter this
morning from Angelina, written apparently in great haste last night.
What she said was very vague, but she spoke of the loss of two hundred
dollars in such a way as to recall to Nora your suggestion that you
might leave the money with Mrs. Rosa. Nora was so excited that she left
her breakfast--so she tells me--almost untasted. She gave her mother a
hasty account of what Angelina had told her, and her mother advised her
to see me. The upshot was that we went at once to Mrs. Rosa's, and there
we found that the young man who has been troubling her lately to pay a
debt which he claimed that she owed his mother had called to see her
soon after you and Nora were at the house. He caught sight of the purse
that you had left with Mrs. Rosa, and when her head was turned, pulled
it from under the pillow and began to examine its contents. Naturally he
was astonished to find that it contained two hundred dollars, and when
Mrs. Rosa saw him with the purse in his hand he refused to give it up to
her. The poor woman was alone and very weak, and so completely in his
power that she could not refuse when he compelled her to tell him how
the money had come into her possession. When he learned that it had been
raised for her at a Bazaar, and that it was to be used for her benefit
he seemed very much pleased. 'It is really your own,' he said, 'or else
the young ladies would not have left it with you. If it is to do you any
good you had better give it to me to keep you out of prison, for that is
where I shall send you for not paying your debts, unless you give me
this money.' So by continued threats he finally made her sign a paper
saying that she paid the money willingly to rid herself of a debt owed
to his mother. He even made her think that he had done her a great favor
in not trying to get the fifty dollars--the balance of the debt which he
claimed."
Brenda had listened with an almost dazed expression while Miss South
told this strange story.
"But he did not really take it, did he?" she murmured.
"He not only took it," said Miss South, "but we have reason to think
that he has left the country with it. His friends say that he had been
getting ready for weeks to go to South America, and that he expected to
sail from New York this morning."
"Can't he be stopped?" asked Brenda. Her voice sounded very weak, and
her face was not at all the face of the usually cheerful young girl.
"He cannot be stopped now, Brenda, and I doubt if in any case we could
recover the money. He was very clever in getting Mrs. Rosa to sign that
paper. If he were in Boston we might recover the money on the ground
that it did not belong to Mrs. Rosa, and that therefore she had no right
to give it away. But we can hardly make that a ground for any action
now. Besides, I know that she thought that the money belonged to her, in
some way you gave her that impression, and any testimony of hers would
not help us very much if you had a case in court against young Silva."
"But she knew," moaned poor Brenda, "that the money was only to help her
to go to the country. I am sure that I said so to her."
"You cannot expect a woman of her limited intelligence, a foreigner,
too, who only half understands English, to grasp the meaning of all that
is said to her. The fact was clear to her that you had brought her some
money, and when her creditor claimed it, she believed that he had a
right to it, and that to use it in this way would benefit her more than
to spend it in going to the country."
"Well, it seems to me that she just deceived me," cried Brenda, angrily.
"No," responded Nora, "you must be fair. Miss South and I both believe
that she didn't mean to do anything with the money when she took it from
you, but she thought that you had given it to her----"
"And she never has been as anxious to move from the city as we have been
to have her," continued Miss South, "yet it is so much the best thing,
and our plans are all carefully made, that I hope we can carry them
out."
"I have one hundred dollars at home," said Brenda, "but, oh, dear, I do
not like to think about it; how angry Belle and Edith will be. Do they
know yet?"
"No," said Miss South, "I thought it better to tell you first. Nora and
I are the only persons except Mrs. Rosa and her friends who know
anything about the money. But of course you must tell the other girls as
well as your father and mother. It might be worth while for them to
consult a lawyer, at least they might feel better satisfied. For my own
part, I am confident that the money cannot be recovered."
"Come, come, Brenda, now do cheer up," cried Nora. "It's no use crying
about spilled milk, and perhaps we can think of some way to straighten
things out."
"I might sell my watch," said Brenda, as they walked away from the
school, "and give up my allowance for the rest of the year, for it is
just as if I had thrown that money away--and we all worked so hard for
it."
"Well, we all had a good time out of the Bazaar," replied the optimistic
Nora, "and perhaps the money has done some good in going to Mrs. Rosa's
creditor. I shouldn't wonder if we could get a subscription for all that
we need to help the Rosas," and so Nora chattered on, in her efforts to
cheer Brenda. For the latter, always at one extreme or the other, was
now very low-spirited.
XXX
BRENDA'S FOLLY
It would make a long story to tell what every one said on the subject of
Brenda's folly. For this was the name given it, and by this name it was
long remembered, much to Brenda's discomfiture, when the subject of Mrs.
Rosa and her money was brought up.
There were so many persons who had a right to express an opinion, that
poor Brenda felt that simply to listen to what they said was punishment
enough. There were all the girls who had worked for the Bazaar, and all
their parents, and all the girls at school who hadn't worked for the
Bazaar, but had done their share of buying. There were the boys from
Harvard, whose criticism took the form of mild chaffing, and there
were--but the list, it seemed to Brenda, included every one whom she had
ever known, and some with whom she was sure that she had no
acquaintance.
Mr. and Mrs. Barlow were especially severe, and told her that she must
gradually reimburse The Four from her allowance. "For the money," said
Mr. Barlow, "did not belong to you, you held it in trust for Edith, and
Belle, and Nora, and indeed I wonder how they ever came to entrust it
entirely to you. You are too heedless a girl to have any real
responsibility, and I only hope that your thoughtlessness is not going
to deprive Mrs. Rosa of the country home that Miss South and the others
have planned for her."
Poor Brenda! Before that fatal Saturday two hundred dollars had seemed
to her very little, but now it seemed an almost infinite amount. Her
father, of course, could easily have given her the sum at once, but he
preferred to make her realize her heedlessness. Indeed the lesson had
already begun to benefit her; for the first time in her life Brenda
realized the value of money. How in the world could she herself ever
save the required sum from her allowance. Why, if she should not spend a
cent upon her own little wants it would take her more than two years to
get together two hundred dollars. For her allowance it should be
explained, was large enough only to provide little extra things that she
needed, or thought that she needed. She had not to use any of it for
clothes, or other useful purposes. Yet when Brenda began to count the
things that she must give up for two years, or longer, it seemed as if
she could hardly bear the sacrifice. But her sense of justice prevailed,
and at last she admitted that she deserved this punishment.
"Poor Brenda!" said Mr. Barlow to Mrs. Barlow, as Brenda walked away
after this interview with her head bent as if in reflection. "Poor
Brenda! This lesson will be a hard one, but if we are ready to help her
out of every difficulty, she will never be able to stand alone. I, at
least, could not feel justified in coming to the rescue just now."
After this conversation with her father, Brenda walked upstairs sadly,
at least her head drooped a little, and any one who had followed her to
her room would have found that the first thing she did was to fling
herself, face downward on that broad chintz-covered lounge of hers.
While she lay there, she did not hear a gentle knock at the door, nor
the soft footstep of some one entering the room.
"Why, Brenda Barlow," cried a pleasant voice. "Why, Brenda Barlow, why
are you lying in this downcast position?"
[Illustration: "'WHY, BRENDA BARLOW, WHY ARE YOU LYING IN THIS DOWNCAST POSITION?'"]
At first there was no reply from the prostrate figure. Then Julia--for
it was she who had entered the room--ventured a little nearer, and
repeated her question in a somewhat different form.
Thereupon Brenda sprang to her feet, and though she attempted to smile
at Julia, there were very evident traces of tears on her cheek.
"Brenda," said Julia, "you know that I am very apt to go straight to the
point, if I wish to say anything, and so I will not apologize for what I
am going to say. I am sure that you won't be offended if I tell you that
you are thinking too much about the loss of Mrs. Rosa's money. I have
been noticing you for several days." (It was now about a week since Miss
South had made the discovery of the loss.)
As Brenda made no reply, Julia continued, this time a little timidly,
"Nora and Edith feel sorry that you will not take an interest in the
plans for moving Mrs. Rosa to Shiloh. You know we have been out to see
the cottage, and we missed you dreadfully. Belle wasn't there either,
but since the Bazaar she hasn't been as much interested in the Rosas.
But we thought that you really had some interest."
"Why, yes, I have," replied Brenda. She did not resent Julia's "we" in
speaking of the efforts now making for the Rosas, although not so very
long before Brenda herself had opposed having Julia considered one of
"The Four."
"Why, yes, I have an interest in Mrs. Rosa," repeated Brenda, then with
a return of her old light-heartedness. "Two hundred dollars' worth of
interest, and what bothers me is to know how to turn it into capital."
(You see from this that Brenda had not altogether forgotten her
arithmetic.)
"There, Brenda, that is just what I have been wishing to speak about to
you. I have been afraid that you have been worrying over this. For Uncle
Thomas has told me that he has decided not to help you to pay it."
Again the girl to whom she was speaking seemed unlike the old Brenda,
for she did not resent the fact that Julia had apparently been taken
into Mr. Barlow's confidence to so great an extent.
"Now, Brenda," continued Julia, "as I have said before, I always prefer
to come straight to the point, and so I must tell you that the two
hundred dollars has been paid to Miss South--the other girls have voted
to make her the treasurer--for Mrs. Rosa's benefit."
"Where in the world,--" began Brenda, in a most astonished tone. Then
with a glance at Julia's face, over which an expression of
self-consciousness was spreading, "Why, Julia Bourne, had you anything,
did you, why I really believe that you had something to do with it. Did
you get some one to give you the money?"
"No," replied Julia, with a look of relief, "oh, no, no, I made no
effort to collect money."
Brenda's wits were now well at work.
"There, Julia, I begin to see; it seemed funny when you paid one hundred
dollars for that picture, at least I thought very little about it then,
but to-day when I was going over everything connected with the Rosas in
my mind, it occurred to me that one hundred dollars was a rather large
amount for you to pay, and I meant to ask you how it happened--" then
stammering a little, as she realized that this was not a very polite way
of putting things, "at least, I know that I should never have so much
money saved up from _my_ allowance for any one thing. But you are more
sensible than I, and of course you can make money go a great deal
farther."
Julia smiled pleasantly, for she understood in spite of a certain
confusion of statement, pretty well what her cousin meant.
But still she did not answer immediately, and Brenda, who was now
thoroughly herself, exclaimed,
"Do tell me, Julia, did you give that two hundred dollars to Mrs. Rosa,
that is, was it a present from you?"