books? Doc, make you acquainted with my daughter Sadie. Graduated from
the district school this spring and goin' to town High School this fall.
Guess the' ain't any of the readin'-matter here that's beyond Sadie!
Here, Miss, give us three of them tickets,--that one I had and two more.
Mrs. Chester Holcomb and Miss Sadie Ditto. There! Keep the change," and
gathering up the three cards, he threw a silver dollar heavily upon the
table and turned away. Catherine and her father looked at each other and
laughed outright.
"No man has ever got the best of Chester in a bargain," said Dr. Harlow,
"and I judge no woman ever will! Allow me to make up the deficit. It has
been worth more than that as entertainment!"
By this time the room was full. It was a motley crowd, as all classes of
Winsted were represented. The would-be Smart Set in rather elaborate
hats and gowns, mingled with the quieter Three R's, and their own maid
servants and the "gentlemen friends" of the latter. All the standbys,
who are always on hand at church doings and the County Fair, were out in
force. There was the oldest inhabitant, bestowing his presence with the
"nunc dimittis" air which had characterized him since old age had given
him the distinction vainly sought in other fields. There was old Mis'
Tuttle in her best black and orange bonnet, and Emeline Winslow with her
wig over one ear and a bouquet of artificial flowers under glass as her
contribution. With her came Grandma Hopkins, whose name was the only
nimble thing about her;--ponderous and elephantine, she had once, in
calling upon a fragile little old lady, stumbled in the doorway and
fallen upon her hostess, whose brittle bones had snapped under the
strain. Polly and Dorcas constituted themselves a committee to look out
for the elderly ones, taking great pains to keep Grandma Hopkins in open
spaces where a fall would do little damage. There was a very bony woman
with a smile which was surprising, it was so soft and radiant. She
brought a fat story of the Bible for the children, and offered Algernon
flowers from her garden for all summer. "Flowers are good for the soul
and the mind as well as books," she explained, "and if so be some one
comes in and can't find the book they want, 'twon't hurt 'em to see a
posy."
There was the Sloan family, decked out in the leavings of a milliner's
shop and bringing as offering a worn copy of one of Mary J. Holmes'
novels. There was a good-hearted lady, so disastrously given to
expressing enthusiasm by embracing anyone within her reach that the
heroes and heroines of the evening fought shy of her, and Tom made her
well-known tendency an excuse for withdrawing altogether and going out
to the fence behind the building where he could overlook the festive
scene and smoke a cigar surreptitiously. Not least "among those present"
was the ubiquitous reporter for the _Courier_, biting his pencil
and using abbreviations in his notes with such freedom that the
list of gifts, when finally published, contained such startling
entries as: _Eliza and her Germ Garden_, and _The Victorious
Anthropology_.
"I felt as though I were in a dream half the time," sighed Polly, when
the crowd had dwindled to "the immediate mourners" as Max put it, and
these were sitting wearily at the messy little tables, dipping idle
spoons into the melted cream that had been with difficulty saved for
them. "I kept on smiling and explaining and telling people to go to
Catherine for cards and to Bertha to leave their gifts, and half the
time I didn't know what I was saying or who was talking to me. Bert came
up once and asked me to tell him which door he came in at, and I tried
to find out for him, before I tumbled--before I saw the point, I mean. I
never was so exhausted in all my life."
"Poor Algernon," said Tom. "You're just beginning your work. Every one
of those hundred and sixty-seven cards will be in to-morrow to draw out
a book. You ought to keep open for a week every day."
"Three times a week, with evenings, will be enough," replied A.
Swinburne, librarian. "There's a big job on those books that came in
to-night. How many were there finally, Bertha?"
"Ninety-six. About twenty are worth putting labels on," answered Bertha
cheerfully. "I'm a little inclined to think that that part of our plan
was a mistake."
"I don't believe it," said Dot. "There was one old duck who brought a
German primer, and he strutted around as though he owned the place. I'm
sure he'll use it constantly."
"He seemed to think he ought to have a card free, because he gave it,"
put in Catherine. "I remember him! He wasn't the only one, though. They
all--or a lot of them--seemed to think they ought to be able to draw any
number of books on one card, and they don't like the idea of fines at
all. I don't envy you, Algernon!"
"We ought to have called ourselves the Looking For Trouble Club,"
groaned Archie. "We haven't had a decent Boat Club picnic since we got
into this mess. And look at all this place to clean up to-morrow! I'm
about dead with work, already. I don't know about the rest of you."
The rest had strength enough for a chorus of hoots and jeers at "His
Laziness," who had adorned the scene of their labor for a few minutes
now and then, but for the most part had stayed strictly away.
"I've saved your lives, anyway," declared Archie cheerfully, when their
derision had spent itself. "And I'm going to again. I hired a lovely
scrub-lady to come to-morrow and make this spot look shipshape--"
"O, Archie!" cried the girls, "you beautiful boy!"
"Don't interrupt," said the beautiful boy sternly. "I am going to
vindicate myself. Polly Osgood, didn't that tennis game Friday morning
save you from collapse? How about that little canoe jaunt on the quiet
yesterday, Catherine? Bess needed a drive Thursday, and Winifred did
more good to the public by singing to me all that hot evening than the
rest of you did slaving away over some gooey job or other. Dorcas let me
reward her Sunday-school kids by a hay-rack ride, and she went along to
take care of us. Agnes and Bertha got interrupted on their way down here
one morning, and let themselves be persuaded to take a country walk
instead, to show me birds' nests for a course I'm not ever going to take
next year. And as for Dot,--O, Dot was shamelessly ready to go off any
old time with any old body. But you all would have been nervous wrecks
by now without me. And you call me names, like an ungrateful populace!"
It was a mirth-provoking series of revelations. "Archie has shown
himself a most artistic sly-boots," said Catherine. "I never had more
delicious conscience pangs than I did on that canoe-ride."
"So it was with me," declared Polly. "And I never dared say anything
sarcastic about the other girls not turning up every time, because I
felt so guilty myself."
"So did I!" cried Bertha and Agnes together.
"Well, so didn't I!" exclaimed Dot. "I was perfectly free to say all the
time that I didn't intend to spend my whole summer or even ten days of
it working harder than I do winters. I move that Archie be given a vote
of thanks for introducing the Rest Cure into the Boat Club, and also a
vote of admiration for the beauty of his dissimulation."
"I second the motion," said Archie himself, "and amend it to include
going home. Want any help in locking up, Al?"
"No, thanks," said Algernon, hearing for the first time a nickname that
any fellow might have had applied to himself. "Good night, all of you.
I'll take good care of things, you can count on that."
As the rest drifted in pairs and threes toward their homes, a
well-content young man set the reading-chairs in their places, put out
the low-burning lamps, turned the key in the lock, and walked briskly
away, happier than he had ever been.
Even so early, Catherine's inspiration had shown itself a true one.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A PARTY AT POLLY'S
"Where you goin', Algy?"
Algernon, half-way down the walk, turned at these words, high and clear,
floating down from upper regions.
In the balcony on the second floor Elsmere, clad airily in white
night-drawers, leaned pensively over the railing.
"To the party, you know. Go back to bed, Sonny."
"But the party is to Peter and Perdita's, over there,--" with a gesture
across the street. "Why do you be goin' that way?" The fat little arm
waved in an opposite direction.
"I'm going to get Catherine. Do go in, now, Elsmere. I'll tell you all
about the party in the morning," and Algernon hastened down the street,
bouncing more than usual in his effort to get out of reach of that
penetrating little voice.
"Why," it called after him, "why? Doesn't Caffrine know the way to Peter
and Perdita's house? What you goin' to get her _for_?"
The neighbors on their porches smiled, and Algernon reddened as he
rushed along.
Elsmere, abandoned, still draped himself over the railing and watched
his brother's rapid walk.
"Springs!" he murmured at last, as though he had solved a knotty
problem. "Algy walks like a spring seat!"
Then with a lighted candle Elsmere proceeded to make some preparations
for an evening of festivity. The party at the Osgoods' was so near that
Peter had assured him the music for the porch dancing would reach him
even more clearly in his balcony chamber than if he were a really
invited guest and on the spot. Peter had further coached him in the
method of preparing porches for dancing, and Elsmere had secreted a
candle and matches early in the evening, waiting only till Algernon was
safely away to apply them. His floor nicely waxed, he curled down in a
corner of the balcony to watch the arriving guests, and unexpectedly
fell asleep.
"Walk on your heels, why don't you?"
Algernon, escorting Catherine, made this suggestion as she picked her
way across a narrow muddy crossing, her white party skirts gathered in
one hand. Catherine, poising with difficulty on the toe of one foot,
turned and looked at him.
"It just muddies my heels, and then my heels muddy my skirts. Of course,
you boys with trousers--" then, toppling, she righted herself and leaped
across the last puddle.
"Trousers," said Algernon, getting to her side again, "were worn in
Abyssinia as early as--"
Catherine heaved a mighty sigh.
"It's like going out for a stroll with the _Century Book of Facts_
to walk with you, Algernon Swinburne," she declared suddenly. "Do you
think in statistics party-nights, even? Haven't you any uninstructive
thoughts for warm evenings?"
Algernon regarded her silently.
"Am I such a bore?" he asked quietly.
Catherine caught her breath. She recalled swiftly her father's having
said: "If Algernon should once find out that he was a bore, it would
probably cure him. He has a lot of sense." And here he was finding it
out, on her hands, just because she had, for once, made her groaning
comment on his conversation audibly instead of to herself!
It was a serious moment.
"Listen, Algernon," she said, feeling for words. "I wasn't very polite
to say what I did, but I'm not going to take it back now. It's really
wonderful how you know so much, and people who use the library are
appreciating it. But you see, you've lived by yourself all these years,
accumulating information, and when you get among people you do have a
little way of handing it out to them whether they want it or not. It's
as though Mr. Graham should take potatoes and onions to church and pass
them around to the congregation! They might be very nice potatoes and
onions! I know how it is, because until Hannah Eldred came and woke me
up, I used to do nothing but read poetry and cook, and I know I quoted
Shakespeare to the girls when they came to see me, and it made them
nervous, so they didn't come often. Have you ever noticed how Polly
does? She's always interested in what every one says, and she always
'catches on.' She doesn't try to run the conversation, while Dorcas--"
"Dorcas hits you over the head with a club, and then when you're stunned
she sits down on you and talks to the others! Am I like her?"
Catherine laughed outright.
"That's very 'wink-ed' of you, Algernon, as Elsmere would say, but it
truly does just about describe it. You never do that way yourself, but
you do open up and read aloud, so to speak, in company sometimes, in a
way that is disconcerting. Now, what could one say to a statement about
Abyssinian trousers, for instance, when one is just peacefully walking
along, going to a party?"
Algernon straightened his shoulders.
"Much obliged," he said briefly. "I've been doing a little observing on
my own account lately, since I've been around with the rest of you so
much, and what you tell me fits, all right. I guess I can cut out the
information! I say, doesn't the Osgood place look fine?"
The great porch at the Osgoods' "palatial residence," as the Winsted
_Courier_ always faithfully referred to the house, was alight with
square pink lanterns. A long strip of carpet ran out to the sidewalk,
and as she stepped upon it, Catherine put her hair back with a quick
gesture and smiled up at her tall companion.
"I tell you, I'm proud to make my entrance by the side of the real
Librarian of the Winsted City Library."
"Leave your scarf here, Catriona darling," said Polly, greeting her
guests in the doorway. "You don't need to prink. Mother, Father, here
are Catherine and Algernon."
Mrs. Osgood came forward and took Catherine's hand with ceremony. Then
she turned to Algernon.
"This is really an occasion. I am delighted, in my new capacity as
Trustee, to salute the Founder and the Mainstay of our Library."
"O!" protested Catherine. "But isn't it perfectly lovely the way the
council did take up with the idea? Was there any hitch at all about it?"
"Not the least," said Mr. Osgood. "You never saw anything smoother. You
young folks certainly struck this town with this library scheme of yours
at the psychological moment. The council was all for it. The tax was
voted, and directors appointed as though it had been talked up for
years."
"And Bertha is a trustee," cried Catherine, seeing Bertha in the group
beyond. "O, Bertha dear, do use your influence to keep Algernon in
office!"
Everybody laughed at that, and Mrs. Osgood threw up her hands.
"We can't help ourselves! No one can ever underbid him, except by paying
for the privilege. Algernon won't take a salary."
Algernon flushed uneasily. "I haven't earned one yet," he muttered. "And
besides, salaries for public positions--"
Some choice fact was refused utterance there, for Algernon, seeing
Catherine's eye upon him, swallowed his harmless 'statistic' and lapsed
into silence.
"Where are Bess and Archie?" fussed Polly. "Every one else is here, and
we do want to begin dancing. I wonder what can have kept them."
"Here they are," called some one. "Hurry up, you two. You're the
latest."
"We've brought our excuse with us," and Archie set down before Mrs.
Osgood a bulky newspaper parcel. Bess, smiling mysteriously, refused to
answer inquiries, and when the greetings were over Archie produced a
knife and started to cut the string.
"Tell them the story first, Archie," suggested Bess.
"You think it would be more dramatic? Well, maybe so, maybe so. Ladies
and Gentlemen: I have here a gift for the Winsted Public Library. It
comes most appropriately on this evening, when the original supporters
of that institution are celebrating their release from its
responsibility! Miss Symonds," indicating Bess with a graceful curve of
his thumb, "and myself were proceeding hither to join you. Our way led
us past the spacious edifice dedicated now to the Cause of Learning and
Recreation, having once been given over to hats, and later still, as
many now present remember, to rats! The library is, as some of you are
aware, not open on Wednesday evenings. Therefore we were surprised to
see standing before the door in an attitude of patient expectancy, a
rustic gentleman, bearing in his arm this identical parcel. We hesitated
and then remarked courteously to the gentleman that there was small hope
of his obtaining satisfaction at that particular portal before to-morrow
afternoon. His face fell. Seeing which phenomenon, Miss Symonds," again
the thumb curve, "being of a kindly nature, offered sympathy to the
disappointed reader. He opened his heart to us--and also his bundle. It
seems he was not there to borrow books, but to bestow blessings. The
article herein contained was destined by his wife, its maker, to adorn
the library's walls."
"He said," interrupted Bess, "that he was sure we didn't have anything
like it, because his wife invented it, and he didn't know as there was
another in the world, even. He seemed to think the library was a kind of
museum and every one was sending things, and he and 'wife' wanted to,
too. He was a dear old man. So clean, and he wore a red shawl around his
neck this hot night--" Bess tossed her own bare head at the thought, and
fanned her pretty white shoulders. "Do show it to them, Archie, and
don't make fun. He really thought we would think it was lovely, and it
certainly is unusual."
"Open it, open it!"
Archie dropped to one knee, cut the string, and, removing one paper
after another, lifted slowly a hoop bound in red wool, from which
depended twenty fat little birds made of scraps of velvet.
Silence and bewilderment. Then, "What's it for?" faltered some one.
"We must explain it," said Bess laughing. "They don't understand.
Neither did we, at first. It's not for anything. It's just an ornament,
a beautiful parlor ornament. And you hang it from the chandelier and set
it swinging. So!" She illustrated and the gay little birds bobbed
merrily up and down.
"They are hung on spiral wires of different lengths, you see, to make
them more lifelike and natural."
Every one was full of delight and amusement now, and one hand after
another poked the poor little birds till they bobbed to a degree
dangerous to their shoe-button eyes.
"It's a variation of the Japanese wind-bell motif," said Mrs. Osgood.
"But I shall wish I were not a trustee, if I must act on such problems
as that."
Algernon took the hoop and put it back into its wrappings.
"I'll write and thank him," he said, "and I don't see any objection to
it. The children will love it. I know Elsmere would."
"We can keep it up for a while and not hurt his feelings," said Bertha,
and as Polly at the piano began to play a waltz, the boys chose partners
and the porch filled with dancing couples.
It proved, however, rather warm for dancing. Polly and Winifred took
turns at the piano, but before long every one was willing to sit and
rest.
"Play that pretty last one again, Polly, and let us listen," begged
Bess. "It's too warm to stir, but you play that so beautifully."
Polly obligingly seated herself at the piano once more in the broad open
window. The light tripping music, unmarred by the sound of sliding feet,
floated over the lawn and across the street and up into the Swinburne
balcony. Suddenly the lazy group on the Osgood veranda caught sight of a
flickering flame high in the neighboring house. Algernon started up, but
Bertha restrained him.
"Watch!" she said. "It's Elsmere. I saw him."
The candle was stuck upon the railing of the balcony. Then capering
about, in little white night-drawers, to the sound of the music, Elsmere
danced, bare-toed, upon his well-waxed floor, the unconscious observed
of all observers. Applause long and hearty rewarded his efforts, and
also brought Maggie to the rescue. As she pounced upon him and knocked
the sputtering candle to the ground, Peter and Perdita, splendid in
starched white linen, appeared in the doorway behind "the party" and
invited every one to come and draw bows and arrows.
Peter held a quiver of arrows, tied with bright ribbons "for the
ladies." His sister at his side offered "the gentlemen" a fine
assortment of bows, with varicolored bow-strings. Bows and arrows mated,
the hunters marched in pairs to the screened-in breakfast room, looking
out over the river.
At each end of the table was a chafing-dish, and in the center was a
huge cabbage surmounted by two natural-looking bunnies.
Each marksman tried his luck, and the cabbage was soon riddled, but it
was reserved for Bert, with Dorcas' arrow, to knock one rabbit over
backward. Thereupon Bert and Dorcas were immediately swathed in great
aprons and installed behind the chafing-dishes to show their skill as
cooks. Fortunately both were competent, and though much hampered by
advice and witticisms, by the time Peter and Perdita had passed the
rabbit salad, radishes and olives interspersed with artichokes and
little china bunnies, the critical moment had passed, and creamy messes
were ready to be ladled forth upon wafers, and consumed in eloquent
silence.
When, at last, there was nothing left but a few leathery strings, and
even Archie declared his spirit alone was willing, Polly rapped on the
table with the handle of a big spoon and called the meeting to order.
"Miss Smith has an announcement to make."
Everybody looked at Catherine. Her eyes were shining and her face was
all aglow with pleasure.
"I'm going to have company and I want you all to know it, and come and
get acquainted."
"Who is it?" asked some one.
"The rest of the Wide Awake girls."
"What?" "All of them?" "All of you together?" "Not the German one?" "Is
Hannah Eldred coming?"
The girls all talked together, and the boys looked mystified.
"I wish some one would enlighten me," said Max helplessly. "Who are the
Wide Awake girls?"
"Why, Max! Didn't you ever take _Wide-Awake_?"
"The magazine? Sure thing. What of it? Does Catherine want us to
subscribe? After an ivory manicure set or a lawn-mower premium?"
"No, no. Listen, Max, and any of the rest of you who are so ignorant as
not to know about the Wide Awake girls. Hannah Eldred advertised for
friends once, and Catherine and a little girl in Germany and one out
West answered. And the German one proved to be the daughter of a
long-lost friend of Hannah's mother, and the one out West turned up at
Dexter, rooming next door, when she went there, and now she rooms with
Catherine. Did you ever hear such a tale in your life? If you were to
read such a string of facts in a book, you wouldn't believe it."
"No more you would," commented Max. "I'm not at all sure I believe it,
as it is. Are they all coming at once, Catherine?"
"Not quite. Hannah and Frieda will be here in a week or two, and Alice
as soon after as she can. They are all of them the _dearest_
girls!"
"Pretty?" asked Archie.
"Wait and see," laughed Catherine. "They'll make their own impression,
but I want you all to be friends as we are."
"We'll do our best to entertain them," said Bert. "Distinguished
foreigners don't come our way every day. I move you, Madam President,
that we make these Wide Awake young ladies honorary members of the
Club."
The motion was put and carried with a round of applause, and a few
minutes later the Boat Club meeting was informally adjourned.
Algernon, reaching home at midnight, stole into his brother's room and
hung the bird-hoop near his bedside. With characteristic perverseness
Elsmere, a sound sleeper by day, was easily wakened at night, and, as
Algernon slipped out of the room, he sat up and watched the birds
bobbing in the moonlight. Presently he dropped back on his pillow,
sleepily content.
"Springs!" he said, "like Algy walks."
PART TWO
THE COMING OF FRIEDA
CHAPTER EIGHT
A FORTUNATE MEETING
On the day of Polly's party, far away in the village of Ventnor on the
Isle of Wight, some one was thinking of the young people of Winsted and
their library undertaking.
A tall woman walked swiftly along the road toward Freshwater, enjoying
its charming variety, the sudden glimpses of sea beyond the chalk
cliffs, the quaint cottages and lanes, and at a certain bend the trees
she loved better than all the rest, with ivy running over the ground and
up the mighty trunks. There was a radiance about Clara Lyndesay which
seemed to make whatever she looked upon more beautiful than it had been
before. No one had ever been able to analyze it, to decide how much was
due to the sunny hair, how much to the blue eyes, and the smile that
suggested sweet wistful things that never could be told, and how much to
her own deep inner peace. "The beauty of you certainly helps the
goodness make its impression," Dr. Helen said to her once, "and yet I am
half inclined to believe that it is the goodness that makes the beauty!"
Just now there was no analyst at hand, no one, in fact, but a stout
small boy, driving a butcher's cart. He felt the force of the charm,
however uncritically, and grabbed his cap from his head as he drew up
beside the lady.