Blue Bonnet in Boston Part 40

"Oh, Ruth was asleep. It seemed a pity to wake her. I didn't mind much.

I never was afraid of the dark."

It was late in the afternoon that Sue Hemphill, coming into her room, found the following note pinned to her pincushion with her best hatpin:

"DEAR OLD ROOMY:

"Please forgive me for being such a silly goose last night. I couldn't help it--truly I couldn't, Sue. I have always gotten perfectly panicky over those little beasts ever since I can remember. I can't bear to have you angry with me. I know I feel worse than you do about it, for I must have seemed such an awful fool. It was all the worse because I had boasted about my courage the other day. I never will again. I am going to see if Miss North will let me take Mrs. White and the 'Lambs' to see Maude Adams next Sat.u.r.day afternoon--my treat. I have a birthday check coming and I'd love to spend it that way.

"Your loving pal, "WEE."

"Dear old Wee," Sue said, as she read the note through twice and then carefully pinned it in her memory book. "She's got the biggest heart.

n.o.body could stay angry at her two minutes--I can't anyway. And," she added, philosophically, "I suppose if she's afraid of mice, she's _afraid_--and that's all there is to it."

CHAPTER XIII

SUNDAY

Little has been said about the living-room at Miss North's; one of the pleasantest places in the building. The approach to it was by the way of a rather unusual stairway, and this stairway had a peculiar significance in the school life. It parted on a landing just before it reached the living and dining-room floor, dividing into two separate avenues. One side was claimed by the Seniors; the other by the Juniors. A Senior never thought of coming down the Junior side; and the Juniors were quite as particular. Each cla.s.s had its own "stair song" and on festive occasions the stairs played an important part.

The living-room was just across the hall from the dining-room; and when cla.s.ses entertained--as they did often--the rooms were thrown open and used as one.

But it was on Sunday that the living-room appeared at its best. A beautiful fire of hickory logs always blazed on the ample hearth, casting a rosy glow over the polished oak beams in the ceiling, dancing and flickering on the handsome rugs and old mahogany furniture which had come down with generations of Norths.

At the extreme end of the room were placed three chairs--similar to bishops' chairs in design. The centre one belonged to Miss North. From it on Sunday morning, and often on Sunday evening, she read to the girls; and the girls loved this quiet hour more than almost any other thing that came into their lives. It was a diversion to come into the living-room's warmth and cheer directly after breakfast on Sunday morning, rather than file into chapel. It was delightful to relax after the strain and discipline of the week; to gather in groups and chat intimately; to sit where one pleased--even on the hearth rug, if one desired, while listening to the reading.

It was Miss North's desire to make this place as much a home living-room as possible; to get far away from inst.i.tutional life.

There was always a little time in which to chat after the girls gathered on Sunday morning; then Miss North took her seat and the exercises began. There were a few hymns and the lesson for the day from the Scriptures. Miss North was an excellent Bible student, and she interested and held the girls in these readings and talks through her knowledge and ability to impart what she knew in a fascinating manner.

Thus a quiet and peaceful hour was spent, which meant much in the general culture and up-building of the girls' characters. Many a young woman looking back in after years felt grateful for the high ideals put before her at that time.

"I adore these Sunday mornings," Blue Bonnet said, linking her arm through Annabel Jackson's as they left the room after an especially helpful talk. "I think Miss North is wonderful. She never preaches at you; but what she says sticks. I'd a lot rather hear her talk than Sarah Blake's father--our minister at home. Aunt Lucinda says Mr. Blake is very spiritual, but he's terribly prosy. I have the awfullest time trying to keep awake when he talks--it's dreadful!"

"Well, you'll have a treat to-day at Trinity, Blue Bonnet. The Bishop is going to preach. I adore him. He's terribly good to look at, too, with all his fixings--his cross and ring and beautiful robes. I had a letter to him when I came here, and he called one day. He wasn't nearly so handsome without his robes; but he was perfectly dear--and quite jolly.

I expected to be awed by him; but I wasn't, a bit. I almost caught myself telling him everything I'd done since I arrived here; but I checked myself in time."

Blue Bonnet looked at Annabel with new respect.

"It must have been a beautiful experience," she said.

Annabel paused at Blue Bonnet's door.

"We've just time to do our rooms before we dress. Help me make my bed and I'll return the compliment."

Blue Bonnet complied willingly. Then they went back to her room.

"What are you going to wear to-day, Blue Bonnet?" Annabel asked, her eyes straying toward Blue Bonnet's closet. "I haven't a thing! I've just got to have some new clothes."

Blue Bonnet laughed.

"Poor little 'Flora McFlimsey,'" she said. "'Nothing but your new tailored suit and your velvet hat and your silk waist,' to say nothing of--"

"But I'm tired of them all! I'd so love a change."

Blue Bonnet opened her closet door.

"Choose," she said generously. "Only leave me my m.u.f.f, to-day. I perish by the wayside in this climate. I'd give--oh, most anything, for a streak of Texas sunshine!"

Almost unconsciously a sigh escaped her. There were days when a vision of the Texas prairie obliterated every other sight.

"Oh, thank you, dear! You're so good about your things. I'll take your black fur hat, if you don't mind--and the blue waist. I'm quite mad about blue just now. I never used to think I could wear it."

Blue Bonnet got out the waist, and Annabel held it against her face, trying the effect.

"I don't know about this 'Alice' shade. What do you think? Can I wear it all right?"

"You look beautiful in anything to me, Annabel--yes, I think it is very becoming. Will you walk with me to-day?"

"Surely; though I suppose Ruth will pout--but no matter! Reckon we had better hurry a little."

Blue Bonnet always declared that there was something about Trinity Church that put her in a pious mood. She felt it first when she came in sight of the splendid edifice. She loved its majesty--- its vast impressive central tower; the quaint cloisters; the rich Galilee porch and the ivy-clad walls; and once inside she could never keep her eyes from straying to the wonderful Tiffany stained gla.s.s memorial windows; the famous frescoes, of which "Jesus and the Woman of Samaria" was her favorite. She loved the service, too. Loved it because amid all the grandeur it was simple and impressive, and she could have a part in it.

It was a pretty sight to see the girls from Miss North's school march in to the church, and it spoke well for Miss North's training that they were always dignified and attentive. They took an active part in the service and sang for the very joy of singing. Blue Bonnet's strong, sweet soprano often rang above her fellows, clear and true, and her face reflected the glow that stirred her heart.

"That _was_ a wonderful sermon, Annabel," she said as they left the church. "Dear me, how I do wish Mr. Blake could sit under the Bishop for a while. I wonder if he ever heard him. I daresay he hasn't. He's what Grandmother calls a 'dyed in the wool Presbyterian.'"

She sighed, regretful of Mr. Blake's lost opportunities.

"Cheer up! You don't have to listen to him often," Annabel said consolingly.

"No, that's true. But _think_ of Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda! They've been listening to him for most twenty years."

"Oh, well, 'habit's a cable,'" Annabel quoted glibly. "It jerks us along and we get into the way of thinking we like things whether we do or not.

I daresay your aunt dotes on him."

"Aunt Lucinda isn't--well--she isn't just the doting kind, Annabel; but I don't suppose she'd trade Mr. Blake for the Bishop if she could.

Loyalty's the backbone of Aunt Lucinda. She's very fond of Sarah, too.

By the way, did I tell you that Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda are coming up to spend a few days of the spring vacation with me? Aunt Lucinda has a lot of shopping to do, and Grandmother loves a little change. They've asked Sarah Blake to come with them. I wish the rest of the girls could come. Wouldn't it be fun if the Lambs could meet the We Are Sevens?"

"Oh, lovely, Blue Bonnet! I'm quite wild to see Kitty Clark. I'm real jealous of her. She's your best friend, isn't she?"

Blue Bonnet hedged.