to be cooped up for three weeks with the two stupidest girls in the school—"
"kid mccoy isn't so bad," said conny consolingly.
"she's a horrid little tomboy."
"but you know she's entertaining, patty."
"she never says a word that isn't slang, and i think she's the limit!"
"well, anyway, harriet gladden—"
"is perfectly dreadful and you know it. i would just as soon spend christmas with a weeping angel on a tombstone."
"she is pretty mournful," priscilla agreed. "i've spent three christmases with her. but anyway, you'll have fun. you can be late for meals whenever you want, and nora lets you make candy on the kitchen stove."[150]
patty sniffed disdainfully as she commenced the work of resettling her room, after the joyous upheaval of a christmas packing. the other two assisted in silent sympathy. there was after all not much comfort to be offered. school in holiday time was a lonely substitute for home. priscilla, whose father was a naval officer, and whose home was a peripatetic affair, had become inured to the experience; but this particular year, she was gaily setting out to visit cousins in new york—with three new dresses and two new hats! and patty, whose home was a mere matter of two hours in a pullman car, was to be left behind; for six-year old thomas wyatt had chosen this inopportune time to come down with scarlet fever. the case was of the lightest; master tommy was sitting up in bed and occupying himself with a box of lead soldiers. but the rest of the family were not so comfortable. some were quarantined in, and the others out. judge wyatt had installed himself in a hotel and telegraphed the dowager to keep patty at st. ursula's during the holidays. poor patty had been happily pack[151]ing her trunk when the news arrived; and as she unpacked it, she distributed a few excusable tears through the bureau drawers.
ordinarily, a number remained for the holidays,—girls whose homes were in the west or south, or whose parents were traveling abroad or getting divorces—but this year the assortment was unusually meager. patty was left alone in "paradise alley." margarite mccoy, of texas, was stranded at the end of the south corridor, and harriet gladden of nowhere, had a suite of eighteen rooms at her disposal in "lark lane." these and four teachers made up the household.
harriet gladden had been five years straight at st. ursula's—term time and vacations without a break. she came a lanky little girl of twelve, all legs and arms, and she was now a lanky big girl of seventeen, still all legs and arms. an invisible father, at intervals mentioned in the catalogue, mailed checks to mrs. trent; and beyond this made no sign. poor harriet was a mournful, silent, neglected child; entirely out of place in the effervescing life that went on around her.[152]
she never had any birthday boxes from home, never any christmas presents, except those that came from the school. while the other girls were clamoring for mail, harriet stood in the background silent and unexpectant. miss sallie picked out her clothes, and miss sallie's standards were utilitarian rather than æsthetic. harriet, with no exception, was the worst dressed girl in the school. even her school uniform, which was an exact twin of sixty-three other uniforms, hung upon her with the grace of a meal-bag. miss sallie, with provident foresight, always ordered them a size too large in order to allow her to grow and harriet invariably wore them out, before she had established a fit.
"what on earth becomes of harriet gladden during vacation?" priscilla once wondered on the opening day.
"they keep her on ice through the summer," was patty's opinion, "and she never gets entirely thawed out."
as a matter of fact this was, as nearly as possible, what they did do with her. miss sallie picked out a quiet, comfortable, healthy[153] farmhouse, and installed harriet in charge of the farmer's wife. by the end of three months she was so desperately lonely, that she looked forward with pleasurable excitement to the larger isolation of term time.
patty, one day, had overheard two of the teachers discussing harriet, and her reported version had been picturesque.
"her father hasn't seen her for years and years. he just chucks her in here and pays the bills."
"i don't wonder he doesn't want her at home!" said priscilla.
"there isn't any home. her mother is divorced, and married again, and living in paris. that was the reason harriet couldn't go abroad with the school party last year. her father was afraid that when she got to paris, her mother would grab her—not that either of them really wants her, but they like to spite each other."
priscilla and conny sat up interestedly. here was a tragic intrigue, such as you expect to meet only in novels, going on under their very noses.[154]
"you girls who have had a happy home life, cannot imagine the loneliness of a childhood such as harriet's," said patty impressively.
"it's dreadful!" conny cried. "her father must be a perfect beast not to take any notice of her."
"harriet has her mother's eyes," patty explained. "her father can't bear to look at her, because she reminds him of the happy past that is dead forever."
"did miss wadsworth say that?" they demanded in an interested chorus.
"not in exactly those words," patty confessed. "i just gathered the outline."
this story, with picturesque additions, lost no time in making the rounds of the school. had harriet chosen to play up to the romantic and melancholy rôle she was cast for, she might have attained popularity of a sort; but harriet did not have the slightest trace of the histrionic in her make-up. she merely moped about, and continued to be heavy and uninteresting. other more exciting matters[155] demanded public attention; and harriet and her blasted childhood were forgotten.
patty stood on the veranda waving good-by to the last hearseful of christmas travelers, then turned indoors to face an empty three weeks. as she was listlessly preparing to mount the stairs, maggie waylaid her with the message:
"mrs. trent would like to speak to you in her private study, miss patty."
patty turned back, wondering for just which of her latest activities she was to be called to account. a visit to the dowager's private study usually meant that a storm was brewing. she found the four left-behind teachers cosily gathered about the tea table, and to her surprise, was received with four affable smiles.
"sit down, patty, and have some tea."
the dowager motioned her to a chair, while she mingled an inch of tea with three inches of hot water. miss sallie furnished a fringed napkin, miss jellings presented buttered toast, and miss wadsworth, salted almonds. patty blinked dazedly and ac[156]cepted the offerings. to be waited on by four teachers was an entirely new experience. her spirits rose considerably as she mentally framed the story for priscilla's and conny's delectation. when she had ceased to wonder why she was being thus honored, the reason appeared.
"i am sorry, patty," said the dowager, "that none of your special friends are to be here this year; but i am sure that you and margarite and harriet will get on very happily. breakfast will be half an hour later than usual, and the rules about bounds will be somewhat relaxed—only of course we must always know where to find you. i shall try to plan a matinée party in the city, and miss sallie will take you to spend a day at the farm. the ice is strong enough now for you to skate, and martin will get out the sleds for you to coast. you must be in the open air as much as possible; and i shall be very pleased if you and margarite can interest harriet in out-of-door sports. speaking of harriet—"
the dowager hesitated momentarily, and[157] patty's acute understanding realized that at last they were getting at the kernel of the interview. the tea and toast had been merely wrapping. she listened with a touch of suspicion, while the dowager lowered her voice with an air of confidence.
"speaking of harriet, i should like to enlist your sympathy, patty. she is very sweet and genuine. a girl that anyone might be proud to have for a friend. but through an accident, such as sometimes happens in a crowded, busy, selfish community, she has been overlooked and left behind. harriet has never seemed to adjust herself so readily as most girls; and i fear that the poor child is often very lonely. it would be highly gratifying to me if you would make an effort to be friendly with her. i am sure that she will meet your advances half way."
patty murmured a few polite phrases and retired to dress for dinner, stubbornly resolved to be as distant with harriet as possible. her friendship was not a commodity to be bought with tea and buttered toast.
the three girls had dinner alone at a little[158] candle-lit table set in a corner of the dining-room, while the four teachers occupied a conveniently distant table in the opposite corner.
patty commenced the meal by being as monosyllabic as possible; but it was not her natural attitude toward the world, and by the time the veal had arrived (it was wednesday night) she was laughing whole-heartedly at kid's ingenuous conversation. miss mccoy's vocabulary was rich in the vernacular of the plains, and in vacation she let herself go. during term time she was forced to curb her discourse, owing to the penny tax on slang. otherwise, her entire allowance would have gone to swell the public coffers.
it was a relief to let dinner-table conversation flow where it listed; usually, with a teacher in attendance and the route marked out, there was a cramped formality about the meal. french conversation was supposed to occupy the first three courses five nights in the week, and every girl must contribute at least two remarks. it cannot be said that on french nights the dining-room was garrulous. saturday night was devoted to a discussion (in[159] english) of current events, gleaned from a study of the editorials in the morning paper. nobody at st. ursula's had much time for editorials, and even on an english saturday conversation languished. but the school made up for it on sunday. this day, being festa, they could talk about anything they chose; and sixty-four magpies chattering their utmost, would have been silence in comparison to st. ursula's at dinner time on sunday.
the four days preceding christmas passed with unexpected swiftness. a snow-storm marked the first, followed by three days of glistening sunshine. martin got out the bobs, and the girls piled in and rode to the wood-lot for evergreens. there were many errands in the village, and the novelty of not always having a teacher at one's heels, proved in itself diverting.
patty found the two companions which circumstances had forced upon her unexpectedly companionable. they skated and coasted and had snow fights; and harriet, to patty's wide-eyed astonishment, assumed a very ap[160]preciable animation. on christmas eve they had been out with martin delivering christmas baskets to old time protégés of the school; and on the way home, through pure overflowing animal spirits, for a mile or more they had "caught on" the back of the bob, and then tumbled out and run and caught on again, until they finally dove head foremost into the big piled-up drift by the porte-cochère. they shook the snow from their clothes, like puppies from a pond, and laughing and excited trooped indoors. harriet's cheeks were red from contact with the snow, her usually prim hair was a tangled mass about her face, her big dark eyes had lost their mournful look. they were merry, mischievous, girlish eyes. she was not merely pretty, but beautiful, in a wild, unusual gypsyish way that compelled attention.
"i say," patty whispered to kid mccoy as they divested themselves of rubbers and leggins in the lower hall. "look at harriet! isn't she pretty?"
"golly!" murmured the kid. "if she[161] knew enough to play up to her looks, she'd be the ravingest beauty in all the school."
"let's make her!" said patty.
at the top of the stairs they met osaki with a hammer and chisel.
"i open two box," he observed. "one mees margarite mccoy. one mees patty wyatt."
"hooray!" cried the kid, starting at a gallop for her room in the south wing.
a christmas box to kid mccoy meant a lavish wealth of new possessions out of all proportion to her desserts. she owned a bachelor guardian who was subject to fits of such erratic generosity that the dowager had regularly to remind him that margarite was but a school girl with simple tastes. fortunately he always forgot this warning before the next christmas—or else he knew kid too well to believe it—and the boxes continued to come.
patty had also started without ceremony for paradise alley, when she became aware of deserted harriet, slowly trailing down the[162] dim length of lark lane. she ran back and grasped her by an elbow.
"come on, harry! and help me open my box."
harriet's face flushed with sudden pleasure; it was the first time, in the five and a half years of her school career, that she had ever achieved the dignity of a nickname. she accompanied patty with some degree of eagerness. the next best thing to receiving a christmas box of your own, is to be present at the reception of a friend's.
it was a big square wooden box, packed to the brim with smaller boxes and parcels tied with ribbon and holly, and tucked into every crevice funny surprises. you could picture, just from looking at it, the kind of home that it came from, filled with jokes and nonsense and love.
"it's the first christmas i've ever spent away from home," said patty, with the suggestion of a quiver in her voice.
but her momentary soberness did not last; the business of exploration was too absorbing to allow any divided emotion. harriet sat[163] on the edge of the bed and watched in silence, while patty gaily strewed the floor with tissue paper and scarlet ribbon. she unpacked a wide assortment of gloves and books and trinkets, each with a message of love. even the cook had baked a christmas cake with a fancy top. and little tommy, in wobbly uphill printing, had labeled an elephant filled with candy, "for dere cister from tom."
patty laughed happily as she plumped a chocolate into her mouth, and dropped the elephant into harriet's lap.
"aren't they dears to go to such a lot of trouble? i tell you, it pays to stay away sometimes, they think such a lot more of you! this is from mother," she added, as she pried off the cover of a big dressmaker's box, and lifted out a filmy dancing frock of pink crêpe.
"isn't it perfectly sweet?" she demanded, "and i didn't need it a bit! don't you love to get things you don't need?"
"i never do," said harriet.
patty was already deep in another parcel.[164]
"from daddy, with all the love in the world," she read. "dear old dad! what on earth do you s'pose it is? i hope mother suggested something. he's a perfect idiot about choosing presents, unless—oh!" she squealed. "pink silk stockings and slippers to match; and look at those perfectly lovely buckles!"
she offered for harriet's inspection a pink satin slipper adorned with the daintiest of silver buckles, and with heels dizzily suggestive of france.
"isn't my father a lamb?" patty gaily kissed her hand toward a dignified, judicial-looking portrait on the bureau. "mother suggested the slippers, of course, but the buckles and french heels were his own idea. she likes me sensible, and he likes me frivolous."
she was deep in the absorbing business of holding the pink frock before the glass to make sure that the color was becoming, when she was suddenly arrested by the sound of a sob, and she turned to see harriet throw herself across the bed and clutch the pillow in a[165] storm of weeping. patty stared with wide-open eyes; she herself did not indulge in such emotional demonstrations, and she could not imagine any possible cause. she moved the pink satin slippers out of reach of harriet's thrashing feet, gathered up the fallen elephant and scattered chocolates, and sat down to wait until the cataclysm should pass.
"what's the matter?" she mildly inquired, when harriet's sobs gave place to choking gasps.
"my father never sent me any s-silver b-buckles."
"he's way off in mexico," said patty, awkwardly groping for consolation.
"he never sends me anything! he doesn't even know me. he wouldn't recognize me if he met me on the street."
"oh, yes, he would," patty assured her with doubtful comfort. "you haven't changed a bit in four years."
"and he wouldn't like me if he did know me. i'm not pretty, and my clothes are never nice, and—" harriet was off again.
patty regarded her for a moment of[166] thoughtful silence, then she decided on a new tack. she stretched out a hand and shook her vigorously.
"for goodness' sake, stop crying! that's what's the matter with your father. no man can stand having tears dripped down his neck all the time."
harriet arrested her sobs to stare.
"if you could see the way you look when you cry! sort of streaked. come here!" she took her by the shoulder and faced her before the mirror. "did you ever see such a fright? and i was just thinking, before you began, about how pretty you looked. i was, honestly. you could be as pretty as any of the rest of us, if you'd only make up your mind—"
"no, i couldn't! i'm just as ugly as i can be. nobody likes me and—"
"it's your own fault!" said patty sharply. "if you were fat, like irene mccullough, or if you didn't have any chin like evalina smith, there might be some reason, but there isn't anything on earth the matter with you, except that you're so damp! you[167] cry all the time, and it gets tiresome to be forever sympathizing. i'm telling you the truth because i'm beginning to like you. there's never any use bothering to tell people the truth when you don't like them. the reason conny and pris and i get on so well together, is because we always tell each other the exact truth about our faults. then we have a chance to correct them—that's what makes us so nice," she added modestly.
harriet sat with her mouth open, too surprised to cry.
"and your clothes are awful," pursued patty interestedly. "you ought not to let miss sallie pick 'em out. miss sallie's nice; i like her a lot, but she doesn't know any more than a rabbit about clothes; you can tell that by the way she dresses herself. and then, too, you'd be a lot nicer if you wouldn't be so stiff. if you'd just laugh the way the rest of us do—"
"how can i laugh when i don't think things are funny? the jokes the girls make are awfully silly—"
speech was no longer possible, for kid[168] mccoy came stampeding down the corridor with as much racket as a cavalcade of horses. she was decked in a fur scarf and a necklace set with pearls, she wore a muff on her head, drum-major fashion; a lace handkerchief and a carved ivory fan protruded from the pocket of her blouse and a pink chiffon scarf floated from her shoulders; her wrist was adorned with an oriental bracelet and she was lugging in her arms a silver-mounted mexican saddle, of a type that might be suited to the plains of texas, but never to the respectable country lanes adjacent to st. ursula's.
"bully for guardie!" she shouted as she descended upon them. "he's a daisy; he's a ducky; he's a lamb. did you ever see such a perfectly corking saddle?"
she plumped it over a chair, transformed the pink chiffon scarf into a bridle, and proceeded to mount and canter off.
"get up! whoa! hi, there! clear the road."
harriet jumped aside to avoid being bumped, while patty snatched her pink frock[169] from the path of the runaway. they were shrieking with laughter, even harriet, the tearful.
"now you see!" said patty, suddenly interrupting her mirth. "it's perfectly easy to laugh if you just let yourself go. kid isn't really funny. she's just as silly as she can be."
kid brought her horse to a stand.
"well i like that!"
"excuse me for telling the truth," said patty politely, "i'm just using you for an illustration—heavens! there's the bell!"
she commenced unlacing her blouse with one hand, while she pushed her guests to the door with the other.
"hurry and dress, and come back to button me up. it would be a very delicate attention for us to be on time to-night. we've been late for every meal since vacation began."
the girls spent christmas morning coasting. they were on time for luncheon—and with appetites!
the meal was half over when osaki ap[170]peared with a telegram, which he handed to the dowager. she read it with agitated surprise and passed it to miss sallie, who raised her eyebrows and handed it to miss wadsworth, who was thrown into a very visible flutter.
"what on earth can it be?" kid wondered.
"lordy's eloped, and they've got to hunt for a new latin teacher," was patty's interpretation.
as the three girls left the table, the dowager waylaid harriet.
"step into my study a moment. a telegram has just come—"
patty and kid climbed the stairs in wide-eyed wonder.
"it can't be bad news, for miss sallie was smiling—" meditated patty. "and i can't think of any good news that can be happening to harriet."
ten minutes later there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and harriet burst into patty's room wild with excitement.
"he's coming!"[171]
"who?"
"my father."
"when?"
"right now—this afternoon—he's been in new york on business, and is coming to see me for christmas."
"i'm so glad!" said patty heartily. "now, you see the reason he hasn't come before is because he has been away off in mexico."
harriet shook her head, with a sudden drop in her animation.
"i suppose he thinks he ought."
"nonsense!"
"it's so. he doesn't care for me—really. he likes girls to be jolly and pretty and clever like you."
"well, then—be jolly and pretty and clever like me."
harriet's eyes sought the mirror, and filled with tears.
"you're a perfect idiot!" said patty, despairingly.
"i'm an awful fright in my green dress," said harriet.[172]
"yes," patty grudgingly conceded. "you are."
"the skirt is too short, and the waist is too long."
"and the sleeves are sort of queer," said patty.
faced by these dispiriting facts, she felt her enthusiasm ebbing.
"what time is he coming?" she asked.
"four o'clock."
"that gives us two hours," patty rallied her forces. "one can do an awful lot in two hours. if you were only nearer my size, you could wear my new pink dress—but i'm afraid—" she regarded harriet's long legs dubiously. "i'll tell you!" she added, in a rush of generosity. "we'll take out the tucks and let down the hem."
"oh, patty!" harriet was tearfully afraid of spoiling the gown. but when patty's zeal in any cause was roused, all other considerations were swept aside. the new frock was fetched from the closet, and the ripping began.
"and you can wear kid's new pearl neck[173]lace and pink scarf, and my silk stockings and slippers—if you can get 'em on—and i think conny left a lace petticoat that came back from the laundry too late to pack—and—here's kid now!"
miss mccoy's sympathies were enlisted and in fifteen minutes the task of transforming a remonstrating, excited, and occasionally tearful harriet into the school beauty, was going gaily forward. kid mccoy was supposed to be an irreclaimable tomboy, but in this crucial moment the eternal feminine came triumphantly to the fore. she sat herself down, with patty's manicure scissors, and for three-quarters of an hour painstakingly ripped out tucks.
patty meanwhile addressed her attention to harriet's hair.
"don't strain it back so tight," she ordered. "it looks as though you'd done it with a monkey-wrench. here! give me the comb."
she pushed harriet into a chair, tied a towel about her neck, and accomplished the coifing by force.[174]
"how's that?" she demanded of kid.
"bully!" kid mumbled, her mouth full of pins.
harriet's hair was rippled loosely about her face, and tied with a pink ribbon bow. the ribbon belonged to conny wilder, and had heretofore figured as a belt; but individual property rights were forced to bow before the cause.
the slippers and stockings did prove too small, and patty frenziedly ransacked the bureaus of a dozen of her absent friends in the vain hope of unearthing pink footwear. in the end, she had reluctantly to permit harriet's appearing in her own simple cotton hose and patent leather pumps.
"but after all," patty reassured her, "it's better for you to wear black. your feet would be sort of conspicuous in pink." she was still in her truthful mood. "i'll tell you!" she cried, "you can wear my silver buckles." and she commenced cruelly wrenching them from their pink chiffon setting.
[175]
"patty! don't!" harriet gasped at the sacrilege.
"they're just the last touch that your costume needs." patty ruthlessly carried on the work of destruction. "when your father sees those buckles, he'll think you're beautiful!"
for a feverish hour they worked. they clothed her triumphantly in all the grandeur that they could command. the entire corridor had contributed its quota, even to the lace-edged handkerchief with a hand-embroidered "h" that had been left behind in hester pringle's top drawer. the two turned her critically before the mirror, the pride of creation in their eyes. as kid had truly presaged, she was the ravingest beauty in all the school.
irish maggie appeared in the door.
"mr. gladden is in the drawin'-room, miss harriet." she stopped and stared. "sure, ye're that beautiful i didn't know ye!"
harriet went with a laugh—and a fighting light in her eyes.[176]
patty and kid restlessly set themselves to reducing the chaos that this sudden butterfly flight had caused in paradise alley—it is always dreary work setting things to rights, after the climax of an event has been reached.
it was an hour later that the sudden quick patter of feet sounded in the hall, and harriet ran in—danced in—her eyes were shining; she was a picture of youth and happiness and bubbling spirits.
"well?" cried patty and kid in a breath.
she stretched out her wrist and displayed a gold-linked bracelet set with a tiny watch.
"look!" she cried, "he brought me that for christmas. and i'm going to have all the dresses i want, and miss sallie isn't going to pick them out ever again. and he's going to stay for dinner to-night, and eat at the little table with us. and he's going to take us into town next saturday for luncheon and the matinée, and the dowager says we may go!"
"gee!" observed the kid. "it paid for all the trouble we took."
"and what do you think?" harriet[177] caught her breath in a little gasp. "he likes me!"
"i knew those silver buckles would fetch him!" said patty.[178]
