Six Girls Part 28

"Capital idea!" a.s.sented Kat, with an approving nod.

"We'll have to bring something in out of the sitting-room," said Bea, pushing the chairs around, with a view to making one fill the s.p.a.ce required by two. "There's so much room, and it makes things look so skimpy."

"Don't have everything pushed back so," advised Kittie, giving a twitch here and a pull there, that brought things to more social angles, and left less s.p.a.ce. "See that fills out some, and in that corner we can put the wire rack and fill it with flowers and vines."

"But the rack is so rusty," said Bea, only half relieved.

"There's some green paint in the woodshed, and I'll touch it up," said Kittie, becoming thoroughly interested. "We can make a lovely corner-piece out of it; there's all those limestones down in the yard, and some of them are such pretty shapes, that will look lovely set in moss, with vines going over them. We can hang the baskets in the windows, and when the curtains are fresh and clean, it will look so pretty."

"Hurrah for my better half," cried Kat, with a flourish of her hat.

"It's bliss to hear you talk. Your words are like wisdom and--b.u.t.ter-scotch."

"What's in the wind?" asked an interested voice from the window. "And what's all this I hear about limestones and b.u.t.ter-scotch and wisdom?"

"Don't you wish you knew?" said Kat, with an unfriendly grimace.

"I do, indeed; and what's more I'm going to find out, because you will tell me, won't you, Posy?" said the new-comer, appealing to Bea, by the nickname which her prettily-colored cheeks had won from him.

"Oh, yes, of course; and you must make yourself useful. I'm going to give a little company for Miss Barnett," said Bea, with a friendly nod, to make up for Kat's ungraciousness.

"So-ho, a party, and we are all going to make our _debut_, are we?"

asked Ralph, swinging himself into the open window, and taking a seat on the sill, with an air of interest. "Good! Tell me what you want done, and I'm ready, Posy."

"We'd like to have you take yourself off, somewhere, and stay till the day after the party," was Kat's uncomplimentary remark.

"And I would like to oblige you, my dear, but I couldn't stay away from you that long," retorted Ralph.

"I'm not your dear, shut up;" cried Kat, flapping her hat, and scowling at the handsome, laughing face.

"There," cried Bea, with a suddenly exhausted air. "I don't see any way of filling that big s.p.a.ce between the windows in the back parlor. Dear me, I wish there was more furniture."

"Bring the piano in," advised Ralph. "That's just exactly the place for it, and it ought to be in here on such an occasion."

"Goodness! To be sure, but there's the expense of moving," exclaimed Bea with a longing sigh. "And it would have to go back, of course."

"Why? Leave it here, a parlor's the place for a piano."

"Yes, but that would never do," said Bea with decision. "We always sit in the other room, because it is so much more sunshiny and cozy than these big parlors; and it would seem deserted without the piano there, especially in the evenings."

"Reasons very good and accepted," a.s.sented Ralph. "The only thing left to be done, is to decide whether or no, the piano shall come in and go back; ready, those who want it so;--and remember, I'm going to attend to it. Now then: yea or nay?"

"Yea," cried the girls, in one delighted breath; after which, Bea ornamented him with a rose-bud, in token of her thanks, Kittie beamed untold grat.i.tude upon him, and Kat remarked with condescension: "You can be a first-rate trump, when you take a notion."

"I'm overcome," said Ralph, with both hands over his heart, and leaving his seat to make an extravagant bow--"To receive a bud from Posy, a smile from Kittie, and the a.s.surance from my unconquerable Kathleen, that I can be a trump; is too much; I therefore hope you will excuse me for leaving you somewhat abruptly, ladies;" and out of the window he went with a flying leap, and Kat, watching him stroll down the yard, made another astonishing admission:

"He's very handsome, if he is such a bother," she said, putting on her hat with a reflective air. "I don't know, but what he might become quite civilized, if he staid here long enough."

Between the picnic and the party, the girls were kept pretty busy for the next few days, and the house was very merry, for busy hands with happy hearts, bring chattering tongues and joyous laughter; and these summer days were gleeful ones.

To be sure, some accidents happened, both comical and disastrous, and in fact, it never was otherwise, if anything was going on in which Kat had a hand.

On the impulse of an unlucky moment she offered to paint the flower-rack, as Kittie was busy; so rigged in a big torn flat, and a pair of fingerless gloves, she went to work, and painted the bottom first, with flourishing success; but left it out over night, when it rained and splashed her work with mud; then she began over, and did the top first, and then hung the pot on a little hook, and went over the bottom again; but in the midst of her zeal, the pot slipped, turned over, and deluged her head and body with slopping green paint, and would have ruined her eyes, if she hadn't shut them tight with the first gasp of amaze; and when she tried to walk to the house with them closed, the wheel-barrow stood in the way, and over she went, with a shriek of dismay that brought the whole household flying to the spot; after which the afflicted damsel was picked up, and carried tenderly to the kitchen to be worked with.

Ralph finished the rack, and Kat heard him remark, that she had daubed enough paint on one k.n.o.b, to do for half the rack. It didn't make her feel any better.

In her zeal to get the parlors clean, Bea had climbed the step-ladder to wash some ancient dust from the top of the folding doors, but the ladder tilted, and over she went soap suds and all; and in answer to a wailing cry, the rescuing family once more put in an appearance, to find that the cleanly heroine, had wrenched her ankle, and could not step on it, but must be carried to the sitting-room, to have the afflicted member rubbed with arnica.

"I tried to jump," she explained with pathetic rivers of tears. "Oh dear, what shall I do? I can't go to the picnic--nor have the company--nor anything--and I think it's too b-b-ad."

"Perhaps it is not so serious," said Mrs. Dering, with comfort in her voice, and in her swift careful fingers that were binding the swollen ankle in cool bands. "You will have to be perfectly still, and by Wednesday, I think it will be well; it is only a little twist, so don't feel so cast down dear." But Bea refused to be comforted, and sobbed herself to sleep that night. Not to go to the picnic, when Dr. Barnett had asked her to go in the phaeton with them, oh, it was too bad, surely!

Beyond hammering one of her fingers, till the nail swelled up with insulted feeling, and threatened to come off, nothing happened to Kittie, who considered herself specially blessed, and did her whole head up in papers on Monday night, so as to be sure and have it curl for Wednesday.

When Tuesday arrived, Bea had sunk to the lowest ebb. She knew she couldn't go, and there was no use talking. She was the most unfortunate girl that ever lived, and no one could deny it; and after making this a.s.sertion numberless times during the day, she gave up and cried despondingly, giving herself full freedom as she was alone; and so it happened that a young man came up the walk, and finding the front door open, came in, and a moment later, stood transfixed at the sitting-room threshold, to behold that utterly crushed looking figure on the lounge, with dishevelled hair, and hidden face; while the most heart-broken sobs crept out from behind a drenched handkerchief. No wonder he was alarmed, or that his voice trembled when he asked:

"What is the matter--what has happened?"

Bea nearly fell off the lounge in dismay, and only gave him one brief, startled glimpse of her wet face, then she stopped crying, and said after a reflective pause:

"Nothing--I guess."

"Nothing," he repeated, with a breath of relief, and then began to laugh.

"Won't you come in, Dr. Barnett?" said the discomfited weeper from behind her handkerchief, and with an attempt at dignity, "Excuse me for not rising; I'm--I'm lame."

The little hitch in her voice betrayed her grief; but, dear me! he was all interest now. He drew a chair close to the lounge, professional habit, no doubt, and ventured to touch one of the hands that supported the doleful looking handkerchief.

"Won't you let me see you? When did this happen?"

"Sat.u.r.day. No, you can't see me; I've been crying an hour."

"Is the pain so great?"

Oh, no wonder this young M.D. was so popular if his voice was always thus tender and anxious in making inquiries.

"Pain! no, but," with a little hysterical sob, "I can't go to the picnic!"

Now you needn't smile at this frank explanation, for he did not. Bless you! no; he looked as if he had three minds to cry too, and if Mrs.

Dering hadn't entered at that moment, there's no telling what he might have said by way of sympathy. As it was, he returned her cordial greeting, and began to express his regret in polite terms, but with much warmth of feeling that could not be concealed.

"Is it quite impossible, do you think? Lottie will be so disappointed;"

he said, regardless of the fact that he was making Lottie do double duty, in the way of disappointment; but Bea took the remark in all good faith, and thought it was very sweet of Lottie to care whether she went or not.

"I don't know," answered Mrs. Dering, thoughtfully. "It was only a little twist, and she stood on it this morning, didn't you, Bea?"

"Yes, mama," said Bea, coming out from behind her handkerchief in eager interest. "I did for several minutes, and it didn't hurt hardly any."

"Suppose you try again," said Dr. Barnett with unprofessional haste to test an injured member. "Take my arm, and let's see if you cannot walk a step or two."