A Daughter of the Rich Part 35

It was seven already. "We won't wait any longer, children," said Mrs.

Blossom. "Something must have detained Chi. Budd, you may say 'grace'

to-night?" she added as she took her seat.

Budd looked up in amazement. "Why, Martie, Rose is here and you always--"

"That will do, Budd," said his mother, quietly, ignoring the flame that shot up to the roots of Rose's hair, and the cool look of indifference on Hazel's face. Budd folded his pudgy hands and repeated reverently the words he had heard father, or mother, or sister say ever since he could remember. Scarcely had he finished when Tell's deep note of welcome sounded somewhere from the road, and the sleigh-bells rang out on the still air.

"There they are!" cried Cherry. "May I go to meet them?"

"Yes--but put your cape over you, it's so chilly to-night."

In a minute Cherry was back again, every single curl bobbing with excitement.

"Oh, Martie! Chi's bringing in something all done up in the buffalo robe, and March won't tell me what it is."

She was followed by March, who walked up to his mother, put both arms about her and gave her a quiet kiss.

"There, little Mother Blossom, is my valentine for you," he said half-shyly, half-proudly, and placed in her hands his first term's report and a set of books.

"Oh, March, my dear boy!" said his mother, rising from the table and placing both hands on the broad, square shoulders of her six foot specimen of youth, "I 'm afraid I 'm getting too proud of you. _Did_ you get the first Latin prize?"

"You bet I did, Martie." March's rare smile illumined his face. "There is n't another fellow at Barton's, who can boast of such a mother as I have, and I was n't going to let any second-cla.s.s mothers read those books before you did. By Cicky!" (which was March's favorite name for the famous orator)--"But I 've worked like a Turk, and I 'm hungry as a Russian bear. Why, Rose, what's the matter with you? You look awfully glum, and Hazel, too. Here comes Chi; he's bringing something that will cheer you up. The truth is, mother, these girls miss _me_."

"Indeed, I do, March?" said Hazel, looking straight up into his eyes and showing the amazed lad tears trembling in her own.

"Guess there 'll be some breakin' of hearts, this year, Mis' Blossom."

Chi's cheery voice was welcome to them all for some unknown reason. He came in loaded with huge pasteboard boxes.

"Your arms will break first, Chi," said Mrs. Blossom, hastening with March to relieve him.

"It ain't the heft of 'em, it's the bulk. Valentines are generally pretty light weight. Romancin' 'n' sentiment don't count for much, nowadays, though they take up considerable room." He deposited the last box on the settle. "'N' there's a whole parcel of things come by mail.

I ain't looked at the superscribin's--you read 'em out, Rose-pose."

Rose read the addresses; there was more than one missive for each member of the family.

"Let's have supper, first, mother," said March, "then, after the table is cleared, we can sit round and guess who they 're from."

This proposition was welcomed by Budd and Cherry. Rose and Hazel gave a cordial a.s.sent, but there was a frigidity in the atmosphere which the outside temperature did not warrant. Chi and March were aware of this so soon as they entered the room, and Mrs. Blossom had known it the moment she saw the girls' faces at the table. She thought it not wise to interfere, but let matters straighten themselves in good time. She felt she could trust them both to see things in their right light, without the aid of her mental gla.s.ses.

"Now let's begin," said Chi, rubbing his hands in glee as, directly after supper, he piled the boxes on the table while March laid the envelopes in their proper places before each member of the family.

"This top one says 'Miss Hazel Clyde.' Show us your valentine, Ladybird."

"They 're violets--from Jack, I know. He always sends them. What's yours, Rose?" She spoke rather indifferently.

"Oh, roses!" Rose was having the first look all to herself. "The loveliest things I have ever seen. Look, Martie!" Rose held up the ma.s.s of exquisite bloom, and the children oh'ed and ah'ed at the sight.

"They 're from Mr. Sherrill," said Rose, trying to speak in a most common-place tone, but, in her excitement, failing signally.

"They are lovely," Hazel remarked, shooting an indignant glance at Rose.

"They're just like the ones he sent Miss Seaton last year, only they were formed into a great heart. Papa gave me one just like it; he got his idea from Jack."

Rose suddenly put down the flowers, in which she had buried her face to inhale their fragrance, as if something had stung her.

"Mr. Sherrill is very impartial with his favors," she said in a tone that increased the pervading chill of the domestic atmosphere.

"Why, Rose!" exclaimed Mrs. Blossom. "It is not like you to receive a favor so ungraciously; you 've never had flowers sent you before, and I 'm sure you would never have them again if the donor could witness your reception of them."

"I don't care for them again, thank you." Rose retorted with flaming cheeks; "I 'd give more for this of yours, Chi--" she opened a huge yellow envelope, and took from it a scarlet cardboard heart, with a small, white, artificial rose glued to the centre and a gilt paper arrow transfixing both rose and heart.

Chi hemmed rather awkwardly, thinking: "Beats the Dutch what's got into Rose-pose to-night. I ain't ever known her to treat a livin' soul so shabby as that in all her life. Beats all what gets into women 'n'

girls, sometimes; when a feller thinks he's doin' 'em just the best turn he knows how, they up 'n' get mad with him, 'n' turn the cold shoulder, 'n' upset things generally." But aloud he said:

"I 'm glad it pleases you, Rose. Can't most always tell when it's goin'

to please a girl or not. I suppose Jack, now, thought you 'd be tickled to get those posies just in the dead of winter. They don't grow round here on our bushes. What's in the other box?"

"Why!" Hazel exclaimed, laughing rather half-heartedly, "it's addressed to 'Miss Maria-Ann Simmons'--and just look, Mother Blossom! See what that dear old Jack has sent her! He's just too dear for anything." She added emphatically;--"I 'd like to give him a kiss for thinking of that poor girl all alone over there on the Mountain. I don't believe she ever had a valentine before. Look! Oh, look!"

She took out of the many layers of wadding a ma.s.s of yellow tulips, their closed golden cups shining in the lamp-light as if gilded by sunbeams.

"Sho!" was all Chi said, leaning nearer to examine the beautiful blossoms.

"You 'll take them over in the morning, early, won't you, Chi?" said Hazel, replacing them.

"First thing, Lady-bird; guess you 're right, Rose, about that young feller's bein' 'n all-round man with his favors. Don't seem to be much choice between you and Marier-Ann, 'n' that Miss Seaver. Kind of a toss-up, hey, Rose-pose?"

But Rose was too busy with another package to answer Chi. She grew wildly enthusiastic over the calla lilies that Alan Ford had sent her, and caressed their white envelopes, and praised their pure loveliness, until Hazel, growing jealous for poor Jack and his discarded gift, rose to put the neglected beauties in water, saying as she did so:

"I 'm sure, Rose, if Jack had known you cared so much for lilies, he would have sent you some Easter ones, they 're out now. I 'll tell him to next time."

"Hazel!" Rose burst forth indignantly, "do you mean to tell me you told Mr. Sherrill to send me these flowers for a valentine?"

Then Hazel, stung by the tone and the words, yielded to temptation--for it had been the last straw. "What if I did?" she said with irritating calm, "he 's my cousin. I suppose I can say what I choose to him."

Rose answered never a word; but, rising, took the La France roses from the pitcher in which Hazel had just placed them, and, going over to the fireplace, deliberately cast the ma.s.s of delicate pink bloom into the fire.

Mrs. Blossom looked both puzzled and shocked; this was wholly unlike Rose. What could it mean? The children were too awed by the proceeding to speak or exclaim. March looked gravely at Hazel, who burst into tears--it was such an insult to Jack!--and rushed into her bedroom and shut the door.

"I 'm going to bed; good-night, Martie," said Rose, quietly, after she had watched the last leaf shrivel in the flame, and, kissing her mother, she lighted her candle and went upstairs. Mrs. Blossom, following her with her eyes, felt that she had lost her "little Rose" in that hour.

March looked grave, complained of feeling tired, and said he would go to bed, too, as to-morrow was the last day of school and there were two more examinations to take. Budd and Cherry kissed their mother twice, bade her good-night in suppressed tones and crept upstairs. "It's just as if somebody was sick in the house," said Cherry, in an awed voice.

Budd's was sepulchral:--

"It's just as if somebody was dead and all the flowers had come for the funeral."

Across the dining-room table, loaded with boxes and brilliant with valentines, Chi looked at Mrs. Blossom, and Mrs. Blossom looked at Chi.

The whole affair was so incomprehensible, and the result so painfully disagreeable, that, for a while, they found no words with which to give expression to their feelings. Chi broke the silence:--

"Well! I wish I was one of those clairivoyants they tell about, 'n'