Blue Bonnet in Boston Part 34

"Why, Miss Ashe! Blue Bonnet, dear--what is all this about? What is the matter? Can I help you?"

The girl raised her face and struggled with her tears.

"I just wanted my mother--for a minute," she said slowly. "Sometimes I need her so--want her--n.o.body knows how much! I suppose girls never do get used to being without a mother, do they, Mrs. White--no matter how kind and dear one's friends and relatives may be?"

"Couldn't you tell me what the trouble is? Perhaps I could help you?"

Blue Bonnet shook her head.

Mrs. White lifted the girl's wet face and held it between her cool, firm hands.

"Did you know," she said after a moment, "that I was a mother once--for ever so short a while--a little daughter, dear. She would have been almost your age if she had been spared to me. I, too, know how terrible death is--how it robs us--"

"Oh, were you--were you?" Blue Bonnet cried, her own sorrow for the moment forgotten in another's grief. "It must have been awful to give her up--awful! I'm so sorry."

There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then Blue Bonnet thrust the miniature into Mrs. White's hands.

"Did I ever show you this? It's my mother. I got it last year on my sixteenth birthday. I love it better than anything in the world."

Mrs. White gazed at the likeness for some minutes.

"It is a lovely face," she said, handing it back. "A lovely face--_better_ than lovely--womanly. One feels the spirit back of it.

When you are lonely again, think what a gift such a mother has been.

What a privilege to follow in her footsteps--carry out her hopes of you--her ideals."

She was gone, her own cup overflowing, before Blue Bonnet could reply.

Just before the gong sounded for dinner she came back for a moment, smiling and serene.

"I brought you this," she said. "I tore it off my calendar a few moments ago. It has a little message for you. Let's pin it up here in your mirror for a day or two, so you will see it every time you dress."

And over Mrs. White's shoulder Blue Bonnet read:

"Life is mostly froth and bubble, One thing stands like stone: Kindness in another's trouble, Courage in one's own."

Under the "courage in one's own," a faint line had been drawn.

CHAPTER XI

THE CLOUD LIFTS

"What's the matter with Blue Bonnet?" Annabel Jackson asked Sue Hemphill. "She looks sick--or worried to death. What's happened?"

"I don't know," Sue said, shrugging her shoulders. "I thought myself she looked awfully upset this morning, but when I asked her if anything was wrong, she said--I can't remember what she did say--but I took it that she wasn't going to tell, if there was."

"There's something the matter. That look she's got on her face doesn't spell happiness--not by a long ways."

"Why don't you use your Sherlock Holmes talent on her," Sue inquired flippantly.

"My what, Sue?"

"This intuition business you were telling us about yesterday. You said you could read people's thoughts."

"I didn't say I was a mind reader, did I?"

"Well--something like that."

"Oh, Sue, how perfectly ridiculous! Tell that to one or two more and I'll be a spiritualistic medium holding seances in my room."

Sue laughed, starting the dimples dancing in her cheeks. Those dimples saved Sue many a scolding. They defended her sharp tongue--exonerated malice. They pointed like a hand on a sign post to mirth and pure good nature. "You can't be angry with Sue when those dimples pop out," more than one girl had said.

The morning had been a trying one for Blue Bonnet. She had great difficulty in keeping her mind on her studies. Even Professor Howe had to ask for closer attention--an unheard of thing.

"Are you ill, Miss Ashe?" she had asked, calling Blue Bonnet to the desk after the cla.s.s adjourned. "You don't look well. Better go up and show your tongue to Mrs. Goodwin or Miss Martin."

"It isn't my tongue--that is--I'm not at all ill, thank you, Professor Howe," Blue Bonnet replied absently.

She pa.s.sed on to her Latin cla.s.s, a little droop in her usually straight shoulders showing listlessness. She sat down by Wee Watts and opened her book, but her gaze wandered to the window.

"You may translate, Miss Ashe," Miss Attridge said for the second time and Blue Bonnet did not hear.

A t.i.tter went round the room. Blue Bonnet's gaze rested on the housetops. She was miles and miles away from the small recitation room.

"Come, Miss Ashe, the third oration, please; begin where Miss Watts left off--Cicero attacks Catiline, saying:"

Blue Bonnet came back with a start, and with Wee's a.s.sistance found the line.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Attridge. Where Deborah left off, you say?"

It was the same with French and with Algebra. Blue Bonnet's mind was busy with but one theme--one thought--that revolved round and round again, hemming her in with despair: Who had secreted the book in her drawer? To whom did it belong? How could she establish her innocence?

"Cheer up, cheer up," Sue Hemphill said, as she pa.s.sed Blue Bonnet in the hall after lunch. Sue was executing a fancy step down the hall and her whole manner betokened the utmost excitement.

"You look cheerful enough for all of us, Sue," Blue Bonnet answered.

"What's happened to you?"

"Billy's coming--going to be here for dinner; so is his room-mate, Hammie McVickar."

"Hammie! What a funny name!"

"Hamilton! Funny little chap, too. Wait till you see him."

Sue giggled as she pirouetted back and forth.

"Decided about the club yet, Blue Bonnet?"