"It must be a mistake! I trust it isn't meant for fifty a week! That is about the price a good hotel would charge, but I had hoped this place would be more reasonable. However, I am quite sure that figure five is a mistake; no one can possibly give meals at that rate, no matter how meager8 the fare may be!" declared Mrs. Maynard.
"The writing is plain enough and so is the figure '5,' mother," returned Barbara, referring again to the letter, then handing it to her mother.
Mrs. Maynard adjusted her lorgnette and studied the figure given. "It does seem to be five, without a doubt!" admitted she.
"Oh, well! it really doesn't matter much what the price is just as long as we have a good time this summer!" exclaimed Eleanor.
"But, Nolla, dear, it does matter! Your father is dreadfully upset about our plans. He says my Newport season will cost far more than I fancied it would, and you two girls going to a mountain resort like this is an extra cost. He will have to be away all summer on important business connected with the bank, and that will cost extra money. Altogether, he feels anything but indifferent," sighed Mrs. Maynard, handing the letter back to Barbara.
"Well, we are not responsible for father's worries over the bank's loans, but we are concerned about the style and quality of meals to be served at this Brewster place for five dollars a week," scorned Barbara.
"I don't believe Anne Stewart would take us to a place where anything was horrid10 and cheap! She knows what's good as well as we do!" defended Eleanor, who was eager to go to this mountain ranch11.
"Nolla is quite right, Bob. Anne is too particular to engage board in an undesirable12 house or hotel!" added Mrs. Maynard.
"Besides, these Brewsters have a farm, you know, and I suppose they raise lots of things that we have to pay such awful prices for—eggs, chickens, butter and vegetables," added Eleanor.
Mrs. Maynard and Barbara looked with admiration13 at the young girl, for that was an idea they had not thought of!
"Of course, that's why they can board us so reasonably! Then, too, I suppose they do their own marketing14 for other items of food, such as delicacies15 and supplies from the baker's! It does make a difference in the accounts, you see, when one markets!" ventured Barbara, glancing at her mother who never bothered about anything connected with the housekeeping—leaving it all for the servants to do.
"Now, Bob, don't criticize your mother's methods. I can't drudge16 about the house and take charge of the Social Clubs and Welfare Work as well," complained Mrs. Maynard.
"Of course not, Bob! Besides, mother never did know a good cut of beef from a poor one—they never taught domestic science in her day, you see," hurriedly interpolated Eleanor, hoping to waive18 a scene such as was a common occurrence between Barbara and her mother.
"Mercy, no! I only tried to show Bob the difference in present day methods and the past."
Mr. Maynard entered the room during Eleanor's reply, and smiled as he heard his youngest daughter's frank words. It was a keen pleasure to him to have one child fearless in thought and word. His son and elder daughter had been spoiled by fawning21 tutors and companions, so they had acquired the habit of white-washing facts to suit the needs. Eleanor had been too delicate to attend any expensive and fashionable seminary and, being taught by Anne Stewart while in Denver, had acquired many of Anne's splendid ways.
"Frederick, what do you know about this mountain resort you asked Anne
Stewart to write about?" asked Mrs. Maynard.
"Well, now that we are all together and have the time to talk this matter out, I will say my say," replied Mr. Maynard, seating himself and drawing Eleanor down beside him upon the divan.
"You remember the first year we were married—I had to visit Bear Forks to investigate a loan one of our clients at the bank asked us to make on a tract22 of timber-land? You wouldn't go with me when you heard we would have to camp out at night and ride horses over rough mountain-trails. That is the season you visited your school-friend in the East."
Mr. Maynard looked at his wife as he spoke23 and she nodded her head as if the memory was not pleasant to recall. Her husband smiled an enigmatical smile and continued his description.
"That is when I met Sam Brewster and his wife—they had been married about as long as we had, and their happy ranch-life struck me as being the most desirable existence I ever heard of."
Mrs. Maynard's lips curled in silent derision. She understood her husband's yearning24 for a simple life in place of the frivolous25 and empty excitement of the social career she had made for herself and family.
"The country about the sections I visited is beautiful and healthy, and as Nolla is ordered to a quiet, mountainous region for a time, I know of no place so suitable. Besides, Anne Stewart has been there, too, and she is wild over the place."
"But you are so old-fashioned in your ideas of living and pleasures, father, and I want to know if this place will suit me. Are the Brewsters members of the best set there, or will I be left absolutely unaided to find a way to meet young people such as we would like to know?" asked Barbara, anxiously.
"The Brewsters are by far the wealthiest family in that whole section of country, and I have heard that the ranch and house are the finest in the state. You met young John Brewster at the College Prom and you can tell what you think of him."
"Ye-es, young Brewster is all right. Every one seemed to think he is exceptionally nice," remarked Barbara.
Mrs. Maynard sighed with relief as she felt that a weight had been lifted from her mind. She was anxious to have her two daughters climb the social ladder to a higher plane than she had been able to reach, so she knew they must be careful to associate with only those who had already arrived there through forbears or ambition.
"Then we can wire Anne at once to complete arrangements, Frederick?" ventured the lady, watching her husband's expression.
"I'll attend to that but when can you be ready to go?" asked Mr.
Maynard, glancing from one to the other of the trio.
"The same day you start, Daddy!" declared Eleanor, giving her father a hug.
"Why, we simply can't, Nolla! Father leaves Chicago next week and we have so much to prepare before going to a place where we are apt to meet the very elite26 of society," cried Barbara.
Frederick, and see that everything is the last word," added Mrs.
"Well, fix things up any way you say, but I'm off for the bank when you begin talking dress," laughed Mr. Maynard.
"Now, Frederick, don't leave us like this! You know we will need money to fit out the girls, and then you must have some idea of when Anne can expect them in Denver," hurriedly said Mrs. Maynard as her husband crossed the room to leave.
"Daddy, I don't want another thing to wear; I've got so many things now that it makes me tired to keep changing to suit the thousand and one occasions," declared Eleanor, running after her father to kiss him good-by.
"Nolla! I declare you will never grow up! Pray walk like a lady when you cross a room, won't you?" complained Barbara.
Eleanor smiled up at her father and he pinched her thin cheek as he stooped to kiss her. Then, he waved his hand at the others and left the room. Once outside the door and safely out of hearing he chuckled28 to himself.
"Bob pictures a gay resort with troops of male admirers to play tennis and dance away the hours with. She is thinking of dress to captivate her 'moths,' but Nolla is thinking of the rural pleasures she has heard me describe to her. If Bob knew the truth, she'd never go, and poor little Nolla would lose the most wonderful opportunity of her young life. I'd best not prejudice Bob or mother, but just pay the bills for finery and whims29 and bide30 my time."
Soon after arriving at his bank-office he sent a message to Anne Stewart at Denver, advising her to engage the rooms at the Brewster home. As an afterthought, he added that he was anxious to have Eleanor get away about the time he left home for his trip.
That afternoon he carried home the reply from Anne Stewart: "Have engaged rooms and board from next week on. Wire when to expect you at Denver. Anne."
Mrs. Maynard had heard from her friends that day that their plans were changed and now they expected to leave Chicago sooner than she had thought. This made her agree quickly to having her daughters start the following week.
"But, mother, it can't be done. I need a riding habit, and tennis clothes, and a few new afternoon gowns and evening dresses!" remonstrated31 Barbara.
"You had a new habit last fall, Bob," Eleanor said.
"But it has a long coat and full bloomers. No one is wearing that style, now. Everything is mannish coats and tight knickerbockers," argued Barbara.
"I will call up the tailor at once, girls, and have him give us the preference over other work," Mrs. Maynard replied.
"Not for me! I don't like the tight habits. I shall take my bloomer one," replied Eleanor, decidedly.
"Dear me, Nolla! You don't seem to care a fig7 about your appearance. What will become of you when it is time for you to make your debut32?" sighed Mrs. Maynard, despondently33.
"I'm not going to do anything so silly—I'm going into business when I grow up!"
"Oh!"
"Nolla!"
Mother and sister could hardly gasp3 the words as they turned shocked eyes in the direction of Mr. Maynard who had been writing out checks for his family. He leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily35 at the independence of his youngest child.
"Frederick! Now you see what comes of your petting Nolla whenever she says or does anything dreadful!" exclaimed Mrs. Maynard.
"Is business so dreadful, then? Anne Stewart seems all right, and she is earning her living," ventured Eleanor.
"I wash my hands of you, after this, Eleanor! If you do anything so unheard of as you threaten, no one will keep up with you," declared Barbara, sternly.
"They'll have to travel mighty36 fast to keep up with me, Bob, once I am of age and start in business," laughed Eleanor.
"That will do, young lady! Remember you are only fourteen, and business is a long time off for you!" Mrs. Maynard remarked.
Then Eleanor hung over the back of her father's chair twisting the iron-gray hair into ridiculous points while her mother and Barbara forgot her presence and planned many fetching gowns for the summer campaign. Both were fair examples of modern society and its aims, and they sacrificed many worth-while plans and pleasures upon the altar of their fickle37 goddess. So it followed that the fashionable tailors, the modiste and the lingerie-maker stitched and fitted and clipped, on beautiful materials and trimmings, until everything was ready for Barbara's summer victory. Eleanor steadfastly38 refused to be annoyed by having new clothes made, so her trunk was packed with the wardrobe she already had on hand.
"Of course, Nolla's appearance is not of as much consequence as yours, Bob, as she still is so young and delicate. It is different with you, however, and I'm so glad you are sensible to appreciate what a difference clothes make," said Mrs. Maynard, resignedly, as the seven trunks were packed and waiting for the expressman.
"I'm glad your fussing is over at last. If you had much more to sew and fit we never would get away!" grumbled39 Eleanor, watching the man stagger as he carried the heavy trunks downstairs.
"Well, I'll soon be reaping the benefit of my patience and you'll be sorry you were so indifferent over your looks," retorted Barbara, turning away from the window once her five trunks were safely on the express wagon40.
"Girls, you're sure everything that Celeste wrote down on the list is packed? Your complexion41 cream in case of freckles42 or tan—and the shampoo mixture for the hair-dresser to use? Tell him I never allow you to use ready-made preparations on your hair."
"Yes, mother, all the toilet articles are in the small trunk, and the few extra things were packed in Eleanor's trunk because she had a corner with nothing to fill in it," explained Barbara.
"Thank goodness we can eat dinner and go to bed to-night without being served styles and fits!" sighed Eleanor, not meaning to be irreverent at her mother's gospel.
Anne Stewart had not mentioned the need of mountain-shoes and good plain clothing in her letters to the Maynards, because Mr. Maynard particularly requested her to delete such items. Anne was bright at reading minds and smiled as she surmised43 the reason for the restriction44. She knew Eleanor would glory in old clothes and a good time, but would Barbara be so willing to visit Pebbly Pit farm if she knew the truth about the environment?
Anne's single steamer trunk was filled with sensible clothes and the toilet articles she knew she would need for the summer. Then she wired the Maynards to say all was waiting to hear from them. And Barbara wired back that they would meet her at the Denver Terminal Station at the day and time agreed upon.
Meantime, great preparations were under way at Pebbly Pit. John's room had to be cleaned and rearranged for the young ladies. While Polly and her mother planned the work, Mr. Brewster made a thorough search of the countryside in hopes of finding a suitable maid-servant for his wife and Polly.
Most ranchers need their daughters at home, and as there are no really poor or poverty-stricken families in those farming sections, the task of finding a servant was not an easy one. And Mr. Brewster realized what it meant, when he read in the papers how difficult a problem it was becoming—this servant-girl question!
At last, as he was about to despair of ever finding any one, he stopped in at the Oak Creek45 Post Office to see if there was any mail. Here he met a rancher-friend from the Yellow Jacket Pass region.
"How-thar, Sam!" called Jim Sattler, heartily.
"How-do yourself, Jim!" returned Mr. Brewster, catching46 hold of Jim's hardened hand and shaking it back and forth47.
"You-all air a sight for sore eyes, Sam! Hain't seen hide nor hair of any one of you for nigh onto a year! Be'n keepin' pritty busy, Sam?" said Jim, in a voice that rolled forth like deep thunder.
"Mighty busy, Jim! John's away to college, you know, and now my leetle chick thinks she can scratch for herself, too. She's bound to go to school, in Denver, this coming fall."
"Sam, nuthin' like it, these days! A man or woman has to have ddication to rassle with livin'! Let her go to it, says Ah! It won't be long afore my boys'll be goin' away, too!"
"That's what brings me here to-day. Ah have been hunting for some kind of a gal48 to help the missus this summer and to have her broken in by the time Polly leaves home," explained Sam Brewster.
"Git one?"
"Not yet! It seems they're as scarce as hen's teeth. Ah never dreamed it would be such a job to hunt one up, or Ah doubt if Ah'd have consented to have those girls come and summer with us."
"See har, Sam! Ah bet Ah knows just the woman for you-all, ef you-all ain't lookin' for a young gal with a figger like a wisp of hay."
"Polly's wisp enough for one ranch! So Ah'm not looking for style but stock. Do you-all know one, Jim?"
"Ah do that! Sary Dodd's her name. You know Bill Dodd, don't yuh—he never 'mounted to much as a rancher."
"Seems to me Ah do! The name's familiar, anyway. Did he come from Yellow Jacket Pass way?" asked Mr. Brewster, scratching his neck, thoughtfully.
"The same! Wall, he died an' left Sary with nothing but funeral costs. She had to sell that measly ranch that Bill held a quarter interest in to pay bills, and now she hain't got nawthin' but her health. Better see Sary, Sam."
It was the dawn of hope for Mr. Brewster. Since starting on his self-appointed search, he had been growing more and more despondent34 of success. Now he urged his horse towards Yellow Jacket Pass to find Sary Dodd.
After seeking at various ranches49 for the elusive50 Sary, he located her. But she was not elusive looking. She was six feet in height and would tip the scales easily at two hundred pounds.
"Are you widow Dodd? Jim Sattler sent me to see if you-all would like a place to live out? We-all have company for the summer and my wife needs help," explained Sam Brewster.
Sary beamed and exchanged polite introductions. "You-all tuk me clar off my feet, Mr. Brewster. Yes, Ah did think some of goin' in a reel good fam'ly to wuk, but nawthin' come up fer me, so Ah'm visitin' the neighbors. Do you-all want me immijit?"
The rancher saw that Sary was over-anxious to accept his offer of a place, but he was not the man to take advantage of her in financial matters. So he replied:
"Ah s'pose we ought to fix the wage, but Mrs. Brewster wants some one at once, and you-all can settle salary when you-all get there."
"Ah've heerd tell what a square man you-all was, Mr. Brewster, an' now
Ah knows it!" Suspicious moisture filled Sary's eyes as she spoke.
"Ah've won a way by being honest in all my dealings, for it pays in the end. But tell me—can you come along?"
"All right! But don't waste any time packing your ball-gowns, Sary," laughed Mr. Brewster, facetiously51, as the load of trouble rolled from his heart. Sary was soon perched beside the rancher on the high spring seat of the lumbering52 ranch-wagon, tenderly holding a half-dead rubber plant. On that drive, her host heard more of every family history of the ranchers for miles around than he had ever dreamed of knowing even if he lived to be a hundred.
Sary Dodd arrived at the ranch-house the day before the visitors were expected. Mrs. Brewster and Polly were in the midst of a light house-cleaning as the strangers must not find a speck53 of dust anywhere!
"Maw, here's Sary Dodd! Ah got her to help!" shouted Sam Brewster, pulling up his horse by the side of the porch.
"Sary Dodd! Oh, Sary, I'm right glad to see you! Come in, won't you?" greeted Mrs. Brewster, coming to the door.
"Just in time, Mrs. Dodd, to help me shove this press in to the spare room," added Polly, arresting her work to smile at the new-comer.
"Give Sary time to lay off her bonnet54, child!" reproved Mrs. Brewster, pulling out a rocker for the widow.
"Laws me! What'cher doin'—a-cleanin' house agin!" cried Sary, leaning against the door-frame panting for breath.
"Winded, Sary? Ah told you-all Ah'd carry that heavy box from the wagon. But no!" exclaimed Mr. Brewster.
Polly was over by the door by this time, and she stooped to carry the box indoors.
"Goodness! What's in the box to make it so heavy?"
"Chil', that box hol's all my treasures on arth! Some few things Bill lef me, our fam'iy album, an' my gran'mother's pieces of reel silver—four plated! And mos' of all, the Brittania cake basket Bill gave me on our annerversary!" explained Sary, pathetically, as she dabbed55 a black cotton glove at her dewy eyes.
"Sam, take the team to the barn and leave Sary with us. We'll soon have her feeling at home," said Mrs. Brewster, seeing a frown coming over her lord and master's face, as he wondered if his home-life was to be shadowed by a sorrowing widow!
The moment Mr. Brewster left for the barn, his wife returned to the "help," who had plumped herself down into the wooden Boston rocker and was fanning herself vigorously with a newspaper.
"Let me remove your bonnet, Sary," offered Mrs. Brewster kindly56, taking the twisted black strings57 to undo58 the knot that was tightly tied under a heavy double chin.
"Ah declar t' goodness, Miss Brewster, ef you-all hain't too good! Ah'll jest set t' git my second wind, an' then Ah'll tek right hol' of things!" gasped Sary.
"Don't hurry yourself. Just cool off and then you'll feel better after such a long ride. Shall I send Polly to the spring-house for some cold milk?" asked the lady of the house, folding the flimsy crepe token of Sary's state of widowhood.
"G'wan now, Miss Brewster—I'm no infant!" scoffed59 Sary. "Don' cher know a fat bein' mustn't tech milk 'cause it's more fattenin'?"
The hostess refrained from giving her opinion, but she busied herself with unpinning the rusty60 black plush cape61 that the widow had donned when she began her journey to new surroundings. Being quite rested by this time, Sary gripped a hold on each arm of the rocker and managed to hoist62 her bulky form out from the too close embrace of the senseless wooden arms.
"Now ef Polly er you-all 'll show me what to bunk63, Ah ricken Ah'll change my Sunday-best an' pitch inter17 work," said the willing help.
"Polly, you drag the box in while I show Sary her room," called Mrs. Brewster, coming to the door that opened from the living-room directly into John's chamber—now to be a guest room.
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1
pebbly
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| 多卵石的，有卵石花纹的 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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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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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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fig
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| n.无花果(树) | |
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meager
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| adj.缺乏的，不足的，瘦的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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marketing
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| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
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delicacies
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| n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 )；精致；精美的食物；周到 | |
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drudge
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| n.劳碌的人；v.做苦工，操劳 | |
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inter
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| v.埋葬 | |
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waive
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| vt.放弃，不坚持(规定、要求、权力等) | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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fawning
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| adj.乞怜的，奉承的v.（尤指狗等）跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的现在分词 )；巴结；讨好 | |
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tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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elite
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| n.精英阶层；实力集团；adj.杰出的，卓越的 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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debut
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| n.首次演出，初次露面 | |
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despondently
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| adv.沮丧地，意志消沉地 | |
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despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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fickle
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| adj.(爱情或友谊上)易变的，不坚定的 | |
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steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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restriction
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| n.限制，约束 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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47
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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49
ranches
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| 大农场， （兼种果树，养鸡等的）大牧场( ranch的名词复数 ) | |
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50
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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51
facetiously
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| adv.爱开玩笑地；滑稽地，爱开玩笑地 | |
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52
lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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53
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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54
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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55
dabbed
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| （用某物）轻触( dab的过去式和过去分词 )； 轻而快地擦掉（或抹掉）； 快速擦拭； （用某物）轻而快地涂上（或点上）… | |
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56
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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57
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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58
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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59
scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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61
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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62
hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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63
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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