Blue Bonnet in Boston Part 62

"Yes, of course they have," Angela answered. "Ben was there last summer.

He was awfully attentive to me. We went rowing together no end of times.

Their home is only a stone's throw from Fairview. You must be awfully nice to Mrs. Paine, Sue; maybe she'll ask you to remain on--over into the summer."

Angela thoroughly enjoyed seeing the color mount Sue's cheeks, as Sue adroitly changed the subject.

The girls found Sargentville all that Angela's highly colored imagination had pictured it. Miss North permitted the girls to leave Boston on Thursday night, so, arriving at Sargentville early Friday morning, they had three full days at their disposal. And days filled to the brim they were!

The first great treat was Fairview itself. Just why it was called a cottage, baffled Blue Bonnet's Western conception of that t.i.tle.

"Why, it's almost a mansion!" she whispered to Annabel, with whom she occupied a charming room. "One almost gets lost in it. I didn't know that Patty was so rich."

It spoke well for Patty--indeed for Miss North's school--that none of the girls knew. Patty was simplicity itself, as was also her mother.

The first afternoon was taken up with a riding party. Fairview stables held the best saddlers in the country, and the girls had great fun choosing mounts. All the horses were reputed to be safe and gentle, and the party started off in high spirits. The country roads proved delightful, winding through woods and abandoned farms. Haunted houses abounded; and Patty had many a tale to tell of the forlorn places where wells had fallen in, windows were smashed, and a general air of desolation prevailed.

The second day, Angela's favorite spot, Caterpillar Hill, was chosen for a moonlight picnic. The girls started early to catch the sunset from the summit which was, according to tradition, well worth the climb.

Slowly, majestically, the great red ball dropped behind the Camden hills, leaving a trail of splendor behind; and in the little village of Belfast lights glimmered and flickered.

"Seems almost as if they were saying, 'Come down! Come down!' as they wink up at us," Blue Bonnet said, watching them, quite fascinated.

"Look, Angela!"

But Angela heard not. The islands with the many light-houses, like great protecting eyes, held no charm. Nature was inspiring her, as always with the poet's vision. Lost to her companions she dreamed on in utter oblivion.

"Will some one kindly bring Angela back to earth," Sue said. "Ask her if she'd exchange that view for the sight of a ham sandwich. I'm starving."

Sunday, too, was a day of peaceful, beautiful experiences. It was just as well that Patty could not prevail upon her brothers to leave Yale for the week-end, as she had hoped, for the girls' time together was growing so short that they begrudged every moment that separated them. Boys, naturally, were a diversion.

"We're going to sail through the islands to-day," Patty announced at breakfast. "At noon we'll stop somewhere and cook lunch. There are lots of lovely places. We might have a little service, too. I think Miss North would like it. Angela can read the prayers and the lesson for the day and we'll sing our favorite hymns. And then I thought it would be nice, if we have time, to have a sort of farewell meeting of the Lambs--we won't be together much longer, you know."

Something rose in Patty's throat that prevented further speech, and her eyes filled suspiciously.

There was an awed silence for a moment, and then it was Blue Bonnet who spoke:

"I don't believe any of us could stand a _last_ meeting, Patty. I hoped we wouldn't have any."

"But there's business," Sue insisted.

"Our vows and pledges for time to come," Wee supplemented.

"I move we write them and have them recorded, by our secretary, on the books," Annabel suggested. "I'm with Blue Bonnet. It's going to wrench my very soul to give up the Lambs. Oh, girls, I love you all so much, and maybe I'll never see any of you again after this year."

At this there was a general breakdown. Handkerchiefs played a more important part at the morning meal than the delicious bacon and fresh rolls that graced the table.

It was Wee Watts as usual who saved the day.

"Mercy on us, Annabel," she said with scorn, though the twitching of her lips belied her bravado, "any one would think we were all going to pa.s.s away, or go to live in a foreign country. _I'm_ not. Indeed I have plans for visiting Nashville in the near future--to show the natives what a real Yankee looks like."

That night seven happy girls reviewed the day with pleasure. The sail through the islands had been a joy--the dinner a delight; the service a benediction that would long linger in the minds of all present. It had been such fun to cook the meal--fry the bacon on the end of a forked twig over the glowing camp fire; to tramp through the purple fields of rhodora, gather the low pink mounds of sheep laurel; to quaff great breaths of the fragrant sea air.

There had been just a suggestion of a Lambs' meeting, too. The song of the Lambs had been sung with much enthusiasm and feeling, and many injunctions pa.s.sed on to the Junior part of the a.s.semblage for use during the next year. There was a wild enthusiastic cheer for Sargentville; an equally ecstatic one for Mrs. Paine and Fairview, and then the little company pulled for sh.o.r.e to pack their several belongings and make ready for the boat which left at sunrise the next morning.

The days which preceded Commencement were happy ones for Blue Bonnet.

While she shared in a measure Annabel's depression at parting from friends, her a.s.sociation with the school had not been of such duration that it made her absolutely unhappy to leave it. The bright, sunny days had brought many pleasures. Among them were visits with her grandmother, who, now that the weather was seasonable, made frequent trips to Boston.

There was a possibility of a separation from Blue Bonnet in the future, and Mrs. Clyde wished to be near her as much as possible.

"You have quite decided to go back to the ranch with Uncle Cliff for the summer, dear?" she asked Blue Bonnet one afternoon. It was Friday, and Blue Bonnet was spending the week-end with her family; Uncle Cliff was still in Boston. Aunt Lucinda had taken out her sewing and there was a very homey atmosphere--even in the garish hotel room--conducive to a confidential chat.

Blue Bonnet did not answer for a minute.

"I _think_ so, Grandmother," she said presently. "It seems almost as if I should. Uncle Cliff needs me--and there's Gabriel, too! I should like to get him started in his new quarters. Do you know what Uncle Cliff is doing? Having a sleeping-porch built for him. We're going to bring him up outdoors. Doctor Clark says we won't know him in a year. The change has been perfectly wonderful in the little time he has been in Woodford.

I had a letter from Miss Warren yesterday. She says he's crazy over the little Shetland pony Uncle Cliff bought for him--that he has a short ride every morning. Knight Judson has been spending a week-end with the General and he's been awfully kind to Gabriel. The pony? Oh, we were a little afraid to trust Gabriel to a Texas mustang yet, so Uncle Cliff found this little fellow. We're going to ship him ahead of our departure, so as to be at the ranch ready for Gabriel."

"Gabriel is a very lucky boy," Mrs. Clyde said. "A _very_ lucky boy."

"Oh, I don't know, Grandmother. He _is_--of course. But we're lucky, too--Uncle Cliff and I. You can't think what company he'll be to us.

It's going to keep us from growing selfish and self-centred to have him.

You know I've always wanted an orphan asylum all my own. This is just a starter."

Grandmother smiled into the enthusiastic young face.

"Do you ever look ahead into the future, Blue Bonnet, and plan your life a little?" Aunt Lucinda asked. "It seems to me that you are old enough now. Your mother was but a year older when she married."

"And you want me to think about--that--too?" Blue Bonnet asked mischievously.

"No; not yet. You are younger for your years than your mother was, and times have changed; but there is a forward movement all over the world to-day--onward and upward. I should like to feel that with the many blessings meted out to you, you could find your place in the world's work--become an avenue for good. I wish that you might have a definite purpose and work to an end. That is the only way to accomplish anything."

Blue Bonnet's face was shining as she answered:

"That's just exactly the way _I_ feel, Aunt Lucinda. For that reason I should like to come back here to school next year and be near Miss North. She has promised to let me do settlement work--to have a day each month at Dennison House--and Uncle Cliff has already put aside some money for my use. Gabriel isn't the only forlorn child in the world.

Perhaps in the years to come he and I may be able to relieve others in distress--help make the world a little easier for those less fortunate than ourselves. That's what I _want_ to do. That's what I _will_ do!"

For a moment Miss Clyde's face softened into something very like tenderness. She would have considered it extremely bad form to have shown how much Blue Bonnet's words touched her, or to have revealed the pride she felt; but Grandmother, leaning forward, pressed a kiss on the sweet face upturned to her own.

"That's my dear girl," she said, "my own dear Blue Bonnet! It is exactly what your mother would have wished--would have done, with your opportunity."

At the school the days flew along at an astonishing pace.

Commencement--that event long looked forward to--was now in sight.

Excitement was in the air. Rooms began to have a deserted appearance as one after another of the little things that had adorned the walls were packed or stored.

"Commencement is a good deal like a funeral, isn't it?" Blue Bonnet said to Joy Cross, who, true to prediction, had taken Fraulein's place in the German department, and with satisfaction.

"It isn't as cheerful as it might be," Joy answered, checking off an examination paper. "It is hard for the girls who aren't coming back. I hear that Annabel is positively sick over it. I had no idea she was so fond of the school."

"Oh, it isn't altogether the school--it's the girls. Annabel is so loyal and she gives so much of herself in her friendships."

Joy folded up her papers and put away some books. Then she came over to Blue Bonnet and slipped her hand in hers shyly.

"There's something I want very much to say to you, Blue Bonnet," she began. "I hardly know where to commence. It's this--princ.i.p.ally: I want to thank _you_ for the position that has been offered me in this school next year."