TILLY CROSSES BRIDGES
In the afternoon the young people again started out to explore the town.
This time Mr. Hartley was not with them.
"But are you quite sure you won't get lost?" Mrs. Kennedy demurred
anxiously, as Genevieve was putting on her hat.
"No, ma'am," returned Genevieve, with calm truthfulness and a merry
smile. "But, dearie, it's daylight and there are six of us. What if we
do get lost? We've got tongues in our heads, and we know the name of our
hotel and of the street it's on."
"Very well," sighed Mrs. Kennedy. Then, with sudden spirit she added:
"Dear me, Genevieve! I shall be glad if ever we get back to Sunbridge
and I have you to myself all quiet again. I'm afraid you'll never, never
settle down to just plain living after these irresponsible weeks of one
long playday."
It was Genevieve's turn now to sigh.
"I know, Aunt Julia. It will be hard, won't it?" she admitted. Then,
with a quick change of manner, she observed airily: "As if anything
could be nicer than learning to cook, and keeping my stockings mended!
Why, Aunt Julia!" The next moment, with a breezy kiss, she was gone.
It was a delightful afternoon that the girls spent rambling about the
curiously interesting old town, which--Cordelia impressively informed
them--was the third oldest in the United States. They tried to see it
all, but they did not succeed in this, of course. They did stand in
delighted wonder before the San Fernando Cathedral with its square,
cross-tipped towers; and they did wander for an entrancing hour in the
old Mexican Quarter, with its picturesque houses and people, its
fascinating chili and tamale stands, and its narrow, twisting streets,
which Genevieve declared were almost as bad as Boston.
"Boston!" bridled Tilly, instantly. "Why, Boston's tiniest, crookedest
streets are great wide boulevards compared to these! Besides, when we
are in Boston we don't have to cross a river every time we turn around."
"I don't know about that," retorted Genevieve, warmly. "Just try to go
over to Cambridge or Charlestown and see. I'm sure I think Boston's got
lots of bridges."
Tilly sniffed her disdain.
"Pooh! You're _leaving_ Boston when you cross those bridges, Genevieve
Hartley, and you know it. But just look at them here! We haven't
stirred once out of San Antonio, and I think I've crossed five bridges
in the last seven minutes. I can imagine those old fellows who built
this town getting tired of building houses, and saying: 'And now let's
stop and build a bridge for the fun of it!'"
Genevieve laughed heartily.
"You've won, Tilly. I'll give up," she chuckled. "I hadn't meant to tell
you; but there _are_ thirteen miles of river twisting in and out through
the city, and--there _are_ seventeen bridges."
"Where did you find out all that?" demanded Tilly, suspiciously.
"In a guidebook that I saw last night at the hotel. It's the same one, I
reckon, that Cordelia's been giving all her information from," said
Genevieve.
"Hm-m;" commented Tilly. "Now I _know_ I've crossed five bridges in the
last seven minutes!"
"Well, I wouldn't care if there were forty miles of river and fifty
bridges," retorted Genevieve, "if they'd all have such lovely green
banks and dear little boats!"
"Nor I," agreed two or three emphatic voices.
Everywhere and at every turn the girls found something of interest,
something to marvel at. When tired of walking they boarded a car; and
when tired of riding, they got off and walked.
"Well, anyhow, folks seem to have a choice of houses to live in,"
observed Tilly, her eyes on a quaint little white bungalow surrounded by
heuisach and mesquite trees.
"Yes, they do," laughed Genevieve--Genevieve was looking at the next one
to it: an old-fashioned colonial mansion set far back from the street,
with a huge pecan tree standing guard on each side.
"Well, seems to me just now a hotel would look the nicest of anything,"
moaned Cordelia, wearily. "Girls, I just can't go another step--unless
it's toward home," she finished despairingly.
"Me, too," declared Tilly. "I'm just plum locoed, I'm that tired! Say we
hit the trail for the hotel right now. Come on; I'm ready!"
Genevieve laughed, but she eyed Tilly a little curiously.
"What do you suppose Sunbridge will say to your new expressions a la the
wild and woolly West?" she queried.
"Just exactly what they said to you, Miss Genevieve," bantered Tilly.
"Oh, but Genevieve's were _natural_," cut in Bertha, with meaning
emphasis.
"All the more reason why mine should be more interesting, then,"
retorted Tilly, imperturbably. And with a laugh Bertha and Genevieve
gave it up, as with tired but happy faces, they set out for the hotel.
At breakfast the next morning, Mr. Hartley announced cheerily:
"We'll do the parks, to-day, and the Hot Sulphur Well and Hotel; and
finish with dress parade at Fort Sam Houston."
"But--what about your business?" asked Genevieve.
Mr. Hartley laughed.
"Oh, that's all--done," he answered; then, as the puzzled questioning
still remained in her eyes, he added, a little shamefacedly: "You see,
there wasn't much business, to tell the truth, dearie. I reckon my real
business was to show off the state of Texas to our young Easterners
here."
"You darling!" cried Genevieve, rapturously, while all the rest of the
Happy Hexagons stumbled and stuttered over their vain attempts at
thanking him.
"I declare! I wish we could give him our Texas yell, right here,"
chuckled Tilly, turning longing eyes about the dining-room. "We would
end with 'Mr. Hartley,' of course."
"Tilly!" gasped Cordelia, in open horror.
"What is the Hot Sulphur Well, Mr. Hartley, please?" asked Elsie, who
had not heard Tilly's remark.
"You'll have to ask some one who's been cured by it," laughed the man.
"They say there are plenty that have been."
"Do you suppose it looks any like an oil well?" ventured Cordelia.
"Sounds a bit hot, seems to me, for to-day," giggled Tilly. "I think I
shall like the parks better."
"All right; we'll let you do the parks--_all_ of them," cooed Genevieve,
wickedly. "There are only twenty-one, you know, my dear."
"Genevieve Hartley, if you remember your lessons next year one half as
well as you have that abominable guidebook, you'll be at the head of
your class!" remarked Tilly, severely, as the others rose from the
table, with a laugh.
It was another long, happy day. The parks, as Tilly had predicted,
proved to be cooler than the Hot Sulphur Well, and they certainly were
more enjoyable, even though only two of Genevieve's announced twenty-one
were visited--Brackenridge Park, and San Pedro Park. It was the former
that Cordelia enjoyed the most, perhaps, for it was there that she saw
her much-longed-for buffalo. Tired, but still enthusiastic, they reached
the hotel in time to dress for the visit to Fort Sam Houston, upon which
Mrs. Kennedy was to accompany them.
Getting dressed was, however, a grand flurry of excitement, for time and
space were limited; and there was not one of the Happy Hexagons who did
not feel that on this occasion, at least, every curl and ribbon and
shoe-tie must display a neatness that was military in its precision.
Perhaps only Elsie of all the girls wept over the matter. Her eyes were
red when she knocked at Genevieve's door.
"Why, Elsie!"
"Genevieve, I've come to say--I can't go," choked Elsie.
"Why, Elsie, are you sick?"
"Oh, no; it's--clothes. Genevieve, I simply haven't anything to wear."
"Nonsense, dear, of course you have! We don't have to dress much for
this thing. Where's your white linen or your tan or your blue?"
"The white is too soiled, and the other two have worn places that show."
"But there's your chambray--that isn't worn."
Elsie shook her head.
"But I can't--that, truly, Genevieve. It's got worse and worse every
day, until now _anybody_ can tell Cora and Clara apart!"
Genevieve choked back a laugh. She was frowning prodigiously when Elsie
looked up.
"I'll tell you, Elsie, I've got just the thing," she cried. "Wear my
white linen--it's perfectly fresh, and 'twill fit you, I'm sure."
Elsie's face turned scarlet.
"Oh, Genevieve! I wouldn't--I couldn't! I'd never, never do such an
awful thing," she gasped. "Why, what _would_ Aunt Kate say?--my wearing
your clothes like that! Oh, I never thought of your taking it that way!
Never mind--I'll fix something," she choked, as she turned and fled down
the hall, leaving a distressed and almost an angry Genevieve behind her.
For some minutes Genevieve busied herself with her own toilet, jerking
hooks and ribbons into place with unnecessary force; then she turned
despairingly to Mrs. Kennedy, whose room she was sharing.
"Aunt Julia, what's the use of having anything to give, if folks won't
take it when you give it?" she demanded, irritably.
"Not having followed your thoughts for the last five minutes, my dear, I
fear I'm unable to give you a very helpful answer," smiled Mrs. Kennedy,
serenely. And Genevieve, remembering Elsie's shamed, red face, decided
suddenly that Elsie's secret was not hers to tell.
Half an hour later Mr. Hartley marshaled his party for the start.
"You're a brave sight," he declared, smiling into the bright faces about
him. "You're a mighty brave sight; and I'll leave it to anybody if even
the boys in line to-day will make a finer show!"
The Happy Hexagons laughed and blushed and courtesied prettily; and only
Genevieve knew that the smile on Elsie's face was a little forced--Elsie
was wearing the green chambray.
There was an awed "Oh-h!" of wonder and admiration when Mr. Hartley's
party came in sight of the great parade grounds at Fort Sam Houston.
There was a still deeper, longer, louder "Oh-h-h!" when, sitting at one
end of the grounds, the girls heard the first stirring notes of the
band.
To the Hexagon Club it was a most wonderful sight--those long lines of
men moving with such perfect precision. Fresh from the Alamo as the
girls were, with the story of that dreadful slaughter in their ears--to
them it almost seemed that there before them marched the brave men who
years ago had given up their lives so heroically in the little chapel.
It was Tilly who broke the silence.
"Oh, I do just love soldiers," she cried, with a hurried glance sideways
to make sure that Mr. Hartley in the next carriage could not hear her.
"Don't you, Genevieve?" But Genevieve was too absorbed to answer.
A little later the band played "The Star-spangled Banner," and there
sounded the signal gun for the lowering of the colors. In the glorious
excitement of all this, even Tilly herself forgot to talk.
After dress parade a certain Major Drew, who knew Mr. Hartley, came up
and was duly presented to the ladies. He in turn presented the officer
of the day, who looked, to the Happy Hexagons, very handsome and
imposing in sword and spurs. After this, at Major Drew's invitation,
there was a visit to the officers' quarters, and on the Major's broad
gallery there was a cooling refreshment of lemonade and root beer before
the drive back to the hotel.