Ethel Morton at Sweetbriar Lodge Part 35

"Stop making fun of me," she said with her pretended severity.

"Ethel Blue was the founder of this club. Don't forget that," said James gravely.

"Don't be so solemn, people; you'll make me bawl," and Ethel Blue looked around her wildly, as Ethel Brown made a dive into her pocket for her handkerchief, and Della sniffed.

"Stop your nonsense, children," urged Helen. "Let's make a list of what we are going to do at our breakfast. First, what shall we eat?"

The discussion waxed absorbing, but when it came to the arrangement of a program it was found that there seemed to be fewer ideas than was customary among them.

"What's the matter?" asked Helen. "Usually we're tumbling over ourselves suggesting things."

"I've got an idea, but it's sort of a joke and I don't want to take the edge off it by telling it now," admitted James.

It proved that all of them were in the same predicament.

"I'll tell you--let's have Helen and Roger the committee to arrange this program," suggested Tom. "Then we can each one tell the committee what our particular idea is, and they'll be the only ones who will know all the jokes."

They decided that this would be the best way, and the committee withdrew to a corner where it was visited by one after the other of the rest of the members, while the unoccupied people drew around the piano on which Ethel Blue was playing popular songs.

"When do you go?" Tom asked her as she stopped for a few minutes to hunt up a new piece of music.

"The wedding is the day after our breakfast; then they go off on a week's trip and when they come back they'll pick me up here and take me on to Fort Myer with them."

"That means that you'll only be here about ten days longer?"

Ethel Blue nodded, her eyes filling.

"I wish you'd give us your idea now, Tom," called Helen, seeing from across the room that her little cousin was not far from tears, and Tom went away, leaving her to let her fingers slip softly through a simple tune that her Aunt Marion had taught her to play in the dusk without her notes. She wondered if she would ever do it again; if her new mother and her father would want her to play it to them; if she should be happy, the only young person in the household when she had been accustomed to a large family; if she could ever get along without d.i.c.ky to tease her and to be teased.

"Aunt Marion says that every change in life has its good points and its bad ones," she thought. "I must make the most out of the good points and try not to notice the bad ones or to change them into good ones."

The tune rang out with a gayer lilt.

"Any way, there are so many good points now that I ought not to think about the others. I've all my life wanted to live with Father. Here's my chance, and I must see only that my wish has come true."

"You sound very gay over here by yourself," said James's voice behind her. "You don't sound as if you were sorry at all about leaving us."

"I'm trying to balance things," Ethel Blue answered. "I lose Ethel Brown and all of you, but I gain Father."

"You'll be coming north for your holidays next summer, I suppose. That will be a great old time for the U. S. C.," he said hopefully.

"It would be simply too fine for words if the U. S. C. could go to Washington for Washington's Birthday next winter the way it did this winter," returned Ethel Blue, beaming at him.

"There certainly is every inducement to get up an excursion there now,"

said James. "You know we've decided on a round robin, don't you?"

"A round robin? How does it work?"

"Helen and Ethel Brown and the Honorary Member and Dorothy will be here in Rosemont, Margaret will be in Glen Point, Della in New York, you at Fort Myer and we boys at Harvard and Yale and the Boston Tech. Helen is going to start a letter on the first day of each month. She'll tell us what she's been doing. Ethel Brown will add on a bit; so will d.i.c.ky and Dorothy. It will go to Margaret. She'll put in a big batch of Glen Point news and send it in town to Della. When she has finished she'll send it on to Tom at New Haven, and in course of time it will reach Roger and me in Boston and Cambridge and we'll send it on to you in Washington."

"That will be perfectly great!" exclaimed Ethel. "You can ill.u.s.trate it with kodaks, and we'll all know what every one of us is doing all the time."

"That was Aunt Daisy's idea. She thought we'd all like to keep together in some way even if we couldn't have our Sat.u.r.day meetings."

"Isn't she splendid!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Ethel Blue, and at that instant she felt that she was far richer than ever before in her life.

The morning of the breakfast proved to be clear and not too frost-filled for comfort.

"We really hardly need the gla.s.s," Mrs. Smith said as she and Dorothy examined the terrace at an early hour.

"It was safer to have it, though," answered Dorothy. "It might have rained and it never would have done to have the bride take cold. Now we can have the sashes open and the fire will take off the chill. It's a great combination."

Mrs. Smith agreed that it was, and went on with her scrutiny of the table.

When the guests arrived at nine o'clock, which was the very latest moment permitted them by Roger, they found the sun shining merrily on silver and gla.s.s and china, twinkling as if it were in the secret of the jokes that Helen and Roger had up their sleeves. Mr. Emerson had sent over his car for the Hanc.o.c.ks, for the Doctor's car was too small to convey the entire family.

"It does my heart good to see Richard so radiant," said Mrs. Morton to her sister-in-law as Captain Morton ran down the steps to help his _fiance_.

"I believe the best part of his life is before him," Mrs. Smith answered softly, a smile on her lips.

The hostess sat at one end of the table and Dorothy at the other. In the middle of one side was Helen, the president of the United Service Club, and in the middle of the other, Ethel Blue, the secretary and departing member. Mingled with the other club members were Mr. and Mrs. Emerson, who had contributed so greatly to the Club's pleasure during the preceding year, and Dr. and Mrs. Hanc.o.c.k, relatives of to-morrow's bride.

The hour was too early for Mr. and Mrs. Watkins to come out from New York, but they telephoned their good wishes and congratulations while the meal was in progress.

It was a simple breakfast but everything was good both to eat and to look at. It began with fruit, of which there were several kinds, and continued with a well-cooked cereal.

"None of your five minute cereals for me," smiled Mrs. Smith. "I always have even the short-time ones cooked at least twice as long as they are reputed to need. It brings out their flavor better."

After the cereal with its rich cream came chops for the meat eaters and individual _omelettes souffls_, as light as a feather, for the egg eaters. The coffee was clear and turned to a warm gold when the cream worked its magic upon it. Broiled fresh mushrooms with bacon brought it all to an end.

"Just the kind of m.u.f.fins I like best," Ethel Brown said in a undertone to Dorothy.

"Potatoes from our own farm," announced the hostess.

"All praise to Dorothy, the farmer," hailed Mr. Emerson.

"Mostly to Roger," protested Dorothy. "He managed the vegetable end of our planting."

Helen tapped on her gla.s.s.

"This will be the last meeting of all the members of the U. S. C.," she said, "because Ethel Blue and the boys are going away."

A shade fell over the faces of all those around the table.

"We who are left at home here are going to keep it up, so that there'll always be a Club for the wanderers to come back to. And we're going to have a round robin fly about every month."

"Perhaps we'll all get together next summer in the holidays," suggested Tom.

"We'll try to," the president continued. "Now I want to ask you to drink in Aunt Louise's nice brown coffee to the health of the founder of the United Service Club. She is its secretary and to-day she is distinguished as being about to leave us for good."