She had stayed all night with the Butterfields—which had not been unalloyed joy; for, though they obviously tried to be kind to her, yet they could not help showing that they regarded her sudden appearance among them, dinnerless and moneyless, as most extraordinary, and certainly very upsetting to the equanimity1 of a well-ordered household.
In the morning she went back to Sunbridge. At the house she found Miss Chick ill. Her cold, and her fright over Genevieve, had sent her into a high fever; and Mrs. Kennedy was scarcely less ill herself.
Certainly it was not exactly a cheerful Christmas Day for the one whose heedlessness had brought it all about. But Genevieve mourned so bitterly, and blamed herself so strongly, that at last, out of sheer pity, Mrs. Kennedy, and even Miss Jane Chick, had to turn comforter; for—as Mrs. Kennedy reminded her sister—it was, after all, aside from her thoughtless lack of haste, only Genevieve's unselfish forgetfulness of her own possible wants that led to the whole thing. Then, and not until then, did Genevieve bestow2 some attention upon her Christmas presents, of which there were a generous number.
Fortunately no one outside the house had known of Genevieve's nonappearance that Christmas Eve, so she was spared any curious questions and interested comments from others of the Happy Hexagons.
The short Christmas vacation sped rapidly. The young people spent much of it on the river, skating, when the ice was good. Genevieve, it is true, was not often seen there. Genevieve was playing nurse these days, and so devotedly3 attentive4 to Miss Jane Chick was she, that both the ladies had almost to scold her, in order to make her take needed exercise. Even Harold Day reproached her one morning, when he met her coming from the post-office.
"You don't let any of us see anything of you—not anything," he complained. "And you look as if you were doing penance5, or something—you've got such a superior expression!"
Genevieve dimpled into a sudden laugh.
"Maybe I am," she retorted. "Maybe I did something bad so I could do something good; and now I'm trying to do enough good to take out all the taste of the bad."
"Well, what do you mean by that, Miss Mystery?"
By New Year's Day Miss Jane seemed almost like her old self, and Genevieve was specially7 happy, for on that night Harold Day gave the first dance of the season; and, with Miss Jane better, and her own heart lighter8 once more, she could give herself up to full enjoyment9 of the music, fun, and laughter.
All the Happy Hexagons were there, together with O. B. J. Holmes, Charlie Brown, and many other of the young people, including even Tilly Mack's big brother, Howard, who—though quite twenty-one—was a prime favorite with the Happy Hexagons.
Genevieve was wonderfully happy that evening. Never had the music sounded so entrancing; never had her own feet felt so light. With Harold she "opened the ball," as Tilly airily termed it; then Charlie and O. B. J. had their turn.
"Oh, Genevieve, you do look just too sweet for anything in that pale pink," panted Elsie, stopping at her side between dances.
"Not any sweeter than you do in that white," tossed back Genevieve, affectionately.
Elsie sighed.
"I love this white, too, but it's got kind of frazzled now. Aunt Kate says she is going to make over Fannie's brown silk for Miss Sally's wedding," she went on, sighing again.
"I'm sure that will be nice," rejoined Genevieve, with hasty politeness.
"Y-yes," admitted Elsie; "only brown sounds kind of hot for April. Still, I suppose I ought not to mind. Just one girl wore it, anyhow, so it'll be faded even, and I sha'n't look like two folks in it," she finished wistfully, as Howard Mack came up to claim his dance with Genevieve.
It was three days after the party that there came a letter from Mr. Jones in reply to Mrs. Kennedy's Christmas note. It was a very grateful letter, but it was a disappointing one. It said that Mr. Jones did not see how he could let Quentina accept the kind invitation of Mrs. Kennedy and Genevieve. All the way through it, very plainly was shown the longing10 of a man who desires advantages for his daughter, and the pride of one who cannot bear that outsiders should give them to her.
Mrs. Kennedy saw this—and wrote another letter. In due time came the answer; and again Genevieve almost cried with disappointment. But Mrs. Kennedy smiled and comforted her.
"Yes, he says 'no,' I'll admit, Genevieve; but I don't think it's quite so strong a 'no' as it was before. One of these days I think I'll write Mr. Jones another letter, my dear—but not just now. We'll let him think a little—of how good it would have been for Quentina if he'd said 'yes.'"
Genevieve gave Mrs. Kennedy a big hug.
"Aunt Julia, you're a dear, and a veritable Solomon for wisdom. I'm going to write at once to the President, too. Your place is in the diplomatic service, I'm sure," she finished, as she danced from the room.
As January passed and February came, a new subject came uppermost in the thoughts of the Hexagon Club. For the first time in years there was to be a prize contest in the Sunbridge High School. The principal, Mr. Jackson, was to give a five-dollar gold piece to the writer of the best essay, subject to be chosen by the author.
"Well, I sha'n't try for it," announced Tilly on a Saturday afternoon late in February, as the Hexagon Club were holding their regular meeting at the parsonage.
"Why not?" asked Elsie.
"Because I don't like defeat well enough," retorted Tilly. "Imagine me winning a prize contest!"
"Oh, I shall try," almost groaned11 Cordelia. "I shall always try for things, I suppose, till I die. I think I ought to; but of course I sha'n't win it. Dear me! How I would love to, though," she cried, almost under her breath.
Genevieve, looking at her momentarily illumined face, was conscious of a sudden fierce wish that Cordelia might win that prize.
"Genevieve, of course, will try," she heard Tilly's teasing voice say, then. "Genevieve loves to write, so!"
Genevieve turned with a laugh, and an uptilted chin.
"I take it, Miss Mack, that your very complimentary12 remarks refer to my magazine notes; but just let me assure you that this prize essay is quite another matter. That isn't printed!"
"Then you are going to try?—of course you are," interposed Bertha.
Genevieve laughed lightly as she reached for a piece of fudge.
"I suppose so. I'm afraid everybody will expect me to. Aunt Julia has already expressed her opinion of the matter."
February passed, and March came. A new topic of conversation now arose, specially of interest to the Hexagon Club. Miss Sally was to be married early in April, and the Happy Hexagons were to be bridesmaids. Naturally, even the new prize contest had to step one side for that month, in the minds of the six joyously13 excited girls.
It was on a particularly windy Saturday toward the end of the month, that Cordelia literally14 blew up to the Kennedys' front door and rang the bell.
Genevieve herself, passing through the hall, opened the door.
"Br-r-r!" she laughed, as she banged the door shut after admitting the whirling draperies from which Cordelia's anxious little face finally emerged. "Why, Cordelia!"
"Yes, I know; I'm going to be at the club this afternoon, of course," panted Cordelia; "but this is for something I wanted to say to you—and I knew there wouldn't be a chance this afternoon. It—it's private, Genevieve."
"Good! I love secrets. Come into the sitting room. There's no one there this morning. Now, what is it?" she demanded, as soon as Cordelia's coat was off, and they were comfortably seated.
"It—I suppose you might call it missionary15 work, Genevieve," smiled Cordelia, wistfully.
"More missionary work? Who in the world wants to go to Texas now?" laughed Genevieve.
"Nobody. It isn't Texas at all. It's—Elsie."
"Elsie!"
"Yes. Of course, dear, I don't know as you can do anything; but you've done so many things, and I'm sure if you could, it would be missionary work of the very nicest kind."
"What are you talking about?"
Cordelia drew a long sigh.
"I'll tell you. You know the rest of us bridesmaids are all going to wear white, but—but Elsie's got to wear Fannie's brown silk."
"I know," nodded Genevieve. "Elsie told me."
"But, Genevieve, just think—brown silk for a bridesmaid at a wedding, when all the rest of us wear white! Besides, Elsie says brown is so hot-looking for April. She feels awfully16 about it."
"Can't she do something? I should think she'd tell her aunt."
"She has. But her aunt doesn't seem to understand. She says that the brown silk is whole and good, and far too valuable to throw away; and that it's all just Elsie's notion that she'd rather wear white."
"Oh, but if she'd only understand!"
"But that's just it—she doesn't understand. And it isn't as if they were poor," argued Cordelia, earnestly. "Now auntie has to make over things, of course, for me and for Edith and Rachel, and we expect it, and don't mind. We're all glad to be economical and help out, for we know it's necessary. But it's different with Elsie. She says she wouldn't mind so, if they were poor and had to. But the Gales18 are real well off—Fannie and the twins have lots of new clothes. Poor Elsie says sometimes it seems as if her aunt actually bought things for them, so she could make them over for her. Elsie says she's never so happy as when she's doing it, and that she makes a regular game of it—cutting them out and putting them together—like picture puzzles, you know."
Genevieve laughed, though she frowned, too.
"But what can I do?" she demanded. "I tried, once, to—to lend Elsie a dress; but she was horrified19."
"Mercy! Of course she was," shuddered20 Cordelia. "I don't know what Mrs. Gale17 would do if she knew that! They're fearfully—er—er—proud, I suppose you call it," hesitated the conscientious21 Cordelia.
"But what can I do?"
"I don't know; but don't you suppose you could—could say something, somehow, to Mrs. Gale that—that would make her understand?"
"Why, Cordelia Wilson, of course I couldn't," gasped22 Genevieve, indignantly. "A pretty picture I'd make going to Mrs. Gale and saying: 'Madam, why don't you give your niece a new dress when you know she wants one?'"
"N-no, I suppose you couldn't do that, of course," sighed the other. "Very likely you couldn't do anything, anyway. It's only that I thought—well, I knew you were going home with Elsie after school Monday night to study; and I didn't know but you'd get a chance to say something. But I suppose, after all, there won't be anything you could say."
"No, I suppose there won't," echoed Genevieve, still plainly appalled23 at the task Cordelia had set for her.
"Well, it's only that I was so sorry for Elsie," sighed Cordelia, as she rose to go.
"Of course! I reckon we're all sorry for Elsie," sighed Genevieve in her turn.
And she was sorry. All the rest of the morning she kept thinking how very sorry she was; and when afternoon came, and when she saw Elsie's lips quiver and her eyes fill with tears, as the others happily discussed whether they would wear colored sashes or white belts with their white dresses, Genevieve's heart quite overflowed24 with sympathy for Elsie. And she wondered if, after all, it were possible to make Elsie's aunt—understand. Determinedly25, then, she declared to herself that, regardless of consequences, she would try—if she had the opportunity.
Genevieve's opportunity came very soon after she arrived at Elsie's home Monday afternoon. Even Genevieve herself had to admit that she could not have had a better one. But so frightened was she that she wished—for a moment—that there were none. Then before her rose a vision of Elsie's tear-dimmed eyes and quivering lips—and with a quick-drawn breath Genevieve rose and followed Mrs. Gale to the sewing-room.
"Come with me," Mrs. Gale had said to Genevieve—Genevieve had picked up a scrap26 of brown silk from the floor. "That's a piece of the dress I'm making for Elsie to wear to the wedding. The silly child has got a notion she wants white, but you'll think this is pretty, I'm sure." And it was then that Genevieve knew her opportunity had come.
In the sewing-room Mrs. Gale proudly spread the silk dress over a chair-back.
"There! What do you think of that?" she demanded.
Genevieve's heart beat so loudly she thought Mrs. Gale must hear it.
"It—it's very pretty, isn't it?" she stammered27, wetting her dry lips and wondering what good it did to say that.
"Pretty? Of course it is. It's silk, and a fine piece—I thought when I got it how splendidly it would make over. I'm sure any girl ought to be proud to wear it!"
Genevieve caught her breath sharply. "Proud"—Mrs. Gale had said "proud"; and Cordelia had said, that morning, that Mrs. Gale herself was very proud, and that she would be very angry if she knew that Genevieve had offered Elsie a dress to wear. In a flash of inspiration, then, came a wild plan to Genevieve's mind. If only she had the audacity28 to carry it out!
She wet her lips again, and took desperate hold of her courage. Even as she did so, she almost smiled—she was thinking: was this another case when she was doing something bad to do something good? Never mind; she must go through with it now. She must!
"Yes, it is a very pretty dress, indeed," she stammered; "and it was Fannie's, too, wasn't it?"
Mrs. Gale beamed.
"Yes!—and didn't I get it out finely? You know sleeves are smaller, so that helped, and the breadths were so full last year! I think I never got a dress out better," she finished proudly.
Genevieve touched the folds lightly.
"And this isn't faded at all, is it?" she murmured pleasantly.
"What?" Mrs. Gale's voice was a little sharp.
Genevieve wet her lips twice this time before she could speak.
"I say, isn't it nice that this one isn't faded? You know Elsie had such a time with that chambray last summer!"
"What do you mean, please?" There was no doubt now about the sharpness in Mrs. Gale's voice.
Genevieve managed a laugh—but it was not a very mirthful one.
"Why, 'twas so funny, you know; it was made from the twins' dresses, and they weren't faded alike. It was just as Elsie said—she didn't know whether to turn Cora or Clara toward folks. It was funny; only, of course it did plague poor Elsie awfully, and I felt so sorry for her."
"You felt sorry—sorry for my niece?" The voice was so very angry this time that Genevieve trembled. She was sure now that it was bad—this thing she was doing—that good might come. But she kept bravely on.
"Why, yes, of course; all of us girls were sorry for her. You know Elsie does so love new dresses, and of course she doesn't have them very often. Last summer, when she was feeling so bad over her chambray, I—I offered her one of mine, but—"
"You—you offered my niece one of your dresses?" gasped Mrs. Gale.
"Yes, but she wouldn't take it; and, of course, that wasn't new, either," finished Genevieve, with what she hoped would pass for a light laugh as she turned away.
"Thank you; but I hardly think my niece needs one of your dresses—yet, Miss Genevieve."
Genevieve fled then, ashamed, and very near to crying.
"I wouldn't have said it, of course," she whispered to herself as she stumbled back to the sitting-room30; "I wouldn't have said it if the Gales had been poor and couldn't have given Elsie new things to wear once in a while!"
In the Chronicles of the Hexagon Club a fortnight later, it was Elsie Martin who wrote the account of Miss Sally's wedding. She wrote as follows:
"I had a beautiful white dress for Miss Sally's wedding—a brand-new one. All of us girls wore white and looked so pretty—I mean, the rest looked pretty, of course. Miss Sally was married the tenth of April. It was quite a warm day, and I was so glad I did not have to wear my brown silk. Aunt Kate says I needn't wear it anywhere if I don't want to—and after all her work, too! I don't know what has got into Aunt Kate, anyway, lately. She doesn't seem half so interested in making over things, and I have three other brand-new dresses, a pink-sprigged muslin, and—but, dear me! This isn't telling about Miss Sally's wedding one bit.
"She was married at four o'clock, and looked too sweet for anything in light gray silk with a pink carnation31 in her hair. Everybody went, and wore their best things and looked very nice. We had sandwiches and chicken salad and olives and three kinds of cake and ice cream for refreshments32. The ice cream was the brick kind, different colors, like lovely striped ribbon.
"At six o'clock they started for Boston to begin their journey West, and we all stood on the steps and gave them a lovely send-off with rice and old shoes. Just at the last minute Tilly says, 'Let's give her our Texas yell, and end with "Miss Sally,"' and we did. And everybody laughed and clapped. But not until the carriage drove off did we suddenly remember that she wasn't 'Miss Sally' at all any more, and we felt ashamed.
"And that's all—except that Miss Sally's going-away gown was gray, too."
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1
equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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devotedly
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| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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saucily
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| adv.傲慢地，莽撞地 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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8
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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12
complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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determinedly
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| adv.决意地；坚决地，坚定地 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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31
carnation
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| n.康乃馨（一种花） | |
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32
refreshments
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| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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