Chapter 14

SETTLEMENT WORK

Blue Bonnet had been a pupil at Miss North's school a little over three months now, and although she had had her share of fun and frolic, the greater portion of the time had been spent in serious work.

She excelled in her music, and the report that went home from the music department monthly pleased Miss Clyde very much. Blue Bonnet was living up to her aunt's expectations in this part of her work, and Miss Clyde, like many others, was not averse to having her dreams come true. Grandmother was pleased also, and counted the days until she should hear for herself just how much real improvement Blue Bonnet had made. The rigorous New England winter had prevented Mrs. Clyde from visiting Boston as much as she would have liked, and as Miss North objected to many week-ends at Woodford, her visits with Blue Bonnet had been of necessity limited.

Miss Clyde had been more fortunate, and running up to the city often, returned with splendid reports of Blue Bonnet.

"And her manners, Mother, are almost unbelievably improved. I really had quite a shock the other day," she confessed after her last visit. "Several teachers told me that Blue Bonnet would undoubtedly have received the medal for the greatest general improvement at the end of the year had she entered in September. I wish you might have seen her enter the reception-room. Her whole bearing is changed. She has dropped that hoydenish, tomboyish manner that was so offensive when she returned from the ranch. She neither waved, nor called to me from the head of the stairs as she came down, but positively glided into the room with ease and distinction."

"Blue Bonnet is growing into a young woman now," Mrs. Clyde answered. "She is leaving the hoydenish period. She will emerge, butterfly-like, from her chrysalis. I have never doubted it for a moment. There is a time for all things."

"Something else pleased me, too," Miss Clyde went on. "Blue Bonnet seems to have made desirable friends among teachers and pupils. They all like her--even that odd room-mate, whom, you remember, she was predestined to hate. I confess I thought her rather impossible, myself; but Miss Cross seems to have blossomed out suddenly, and Blue Bonnet says--to use her own expression, 'she is not half bad.'"

"Does Blue Bonnet still call her 'the cross?'" Mrs. Clyde asked, smiling broadly.

"Yes, and declares that she has taken up 'her cross' and is 'bearing it cheerfully'--whatever that may mean. Blue Bonnet loves figures of speech. Her comparisons are really very amusing sometimes. I hardly know what to make of her sudden tolerance of this girl; whether it is a case of propinquity, duty, or over-generousness on Blue Bonnet's part. At any rate, she seems to have espoused the cause of the cross, nobly."

"Bless her dear heart," Mrs. Clyde murmured Softly. "The world will never end for Blue Bonnet at her own doorstep. She has a real genius for friendship. I am glad she finds her room-mate pleasant. I feared from her letters that she never would."

"Something has happened to change her mind," Miss Clyde said shrewdly. "The girl's personality never appealed to Blue Bonnet. I rather suspect that Blue Bonnet feels that she needs friends. She has been very unpopular, I understand."

Miss Clyde, unconsciously, had put her finger upon the exact cause of Blue Bonnet's sudden conversion. Joy did need friends. To Blue Bonnet, this need was tragic--pathetic; and she straightway set about bringing Joy into the charmed circle where she, herself, had been welcomed with open arms. It had not been easy work; perhaps she would not have accomplished her aim had she not taken Mrs. White into her confidence. Mrs. White was executive as well as musical. She was tactful, too, and under her guidance Joy was gradually steered into a port that became a haven; a refuge from her old self, her youthful environment.

Another interest had come into Blue Bonnet's life. One that bade fair to rival all others, and pave the way for future usefulness. It was the Settlement work which the "Lambs" engaged in. Her first visit to the poorer districts filled her with horror. She had never known anything about real poverty. A kind fate had lifted her above all that; and when she went for the first time into a day nursery, a free kindergarten, and was told something of the homes the children came from, their limitation, their actual needs, tears blinded her eyes and her throat ached with the lumps that rose there. For a moment she was speechless.

It was the home for crippled children that interested her most. The girls at Miss North's took turns going there to amuse the children. They cut paper dolls, carried toys, and made themselves generally useful during the brief hour they spent within the wards. Blue Bonnet soon began to look forward to these visits, and begged Miss North to allow her to go as often as possible.

It was on her second visit that she was attracted to a small cot, from which a pinched little face with wondrous brown eyes looked up appealingly.

"How do you do?" Blue Bonnet said, dropping down beside the cot and taking the thin hand on the coverlet in her own.

"How do _you_ do?" came the laconic answer.

"Nicely, thank you."

"Did you bring paper dolls?"

"Yes."

A look of keen disappointment came over the wan face on the pillow.

"I hate 'em! I hoped maybe you had soldiers. Everything here's for girls!"

"Now, isn't that strange," Blue Bonnet said, untying a parcel with haste. "I brought things for girls last time--seemed sort of natural to buy dolls and dishes, being a girl, but this time I brought the very things you wanted. Soldiers!"

The brown eyes grew round with delight.

"For me? All for me?"

The little hands went out eagerly.

"You may play with them all you like. Perhaps you will want to pass them on to some other little boy when you tire of them."

"I sha'n't never tire of 'em. I just love 'em. Oh, ain't they grand! Why, there's a whole lot, ain't they?"

"A regiment," Blue Bonnet said, delighted with the child's enthusiasm. "And horses! Soldiers must be well mounted, of course!"

The boy was upright in bed now, his face aglow with excitement.

Blue Bonnet made a pillow into a background and put the soldiers in a row before the child. The next moment he was oblivious of her presence.

"Horses!" he said. "Horses! Gee!"

A laugh, utterly out of proportion to the wasted little body from which it emerged, rang through the ward.

"I'm afraid you are getting too excited," Blue Bonnet cautioned. "I'll have to take them away if you make yourself ill with them."

The boy caught up as many of the soldiers and horses as he could, and held to them tightly.

"You can't get 'em," he said, and the brown eyes flashed. "I wouldn't give 'em up to nobody."

"You don't have to give them up. You mustn't get excited, that's all. It's bad for sick people; it gives them fever."

"Aw--I gets fever anyway. I'm used to it. I'm 'bercular! It's in my knee."

"A tubercular knee?"

The boy nodded, and thrusting a pitifully thin leg from beneath the covers, showed a knee carefully bandaged. Blue Bonnet hastily covered it, asking his name by way of changing the subject.

"Gabriel," came the quick answer.

"Gabriel! What a beautiful name! Gabriel--what?"

"You couldn't say all of it if I tell you. It's Jewish."

"Let me try. Perhaps I'll surprise you. Then I'll tell you mine. I have a queer name, too."

"Tell yours first."

"All right. It's Blue Bonnet. Blue Bonnet Ashe."

The child laughed again; less loudly this time.

"It's pretty, though. I like it."

"Why do you like it?"

The eyes half closed for a moment, straying away from the soldiers.

"I don't know. Kind of makes me think of flowers."

"It _is_ the name of a flower," Blue Bonnet said, surprised at his intuition. "A very pretty flower that grows down in Texas."

But Texas meant nothing to Gabriel. He was busy again, lining up his soldiers for battle.

"They'll march this way," he said, half to himself--"and these this way. Then they'll fight."

"Oh, I wouldn't let them fight, if I were you. Soldiers don't fight any more--not here in America. This is a land of peace."

Gabriel looked up in disdain.

"Aw--quit yer kiddin'," he paid. "What's soldiers fer?"

Blue Bonnet was not ready with a reply. "You haven't told me your other name," she said. "You took advantage of me. I told you mine."

"It ain't pretty! The kids call me Gaby. That's enough. Call me that."

"How old are you?"

"Nine--comin' next August."

"August? My birthday is in August; the twenty-first."

"That's mine, too!"

Blue Bonnet looked incredulous.

"Really?" she said. "Aren't you mistaken? Certain it's the twenty-first?"

"Sure, I am. Ask her!"

He pointed to a nurse who had come to the foot of the bed.

"That's what he has always said," the nurse vouched.

"Well, we're sort of twins, aren't we, Gabriel? If I'm near Boston next summer we'll have to celebrate, won't we?"

The boy nodded. The soldiers were ready to advance upon the enemy now. Birthdays were of small importance.

"Come again some day," Gabriel called when Blue Bonnet took leave of him. "And bring some soldier books with you."

"If you please," the nurse finished for him. "Miss Ashe won't come again if you are not polite."

"If you please," the child repeated dutifully, and Blue Bonnet went back to school, treasuring the look of gratitude that had shone from eyes set like jewels in a wasted and world-old face; a face that belied claim to childhood, and spoke only of suffering and poverty.

The next week she was back again with some books. The soldiers were still lined up for battle. They looked as if they had seen hard service, but their commander eyed them with pride and pleasure.

"They been in battle more 'en fifty times since you was here," he announced. "They've licked everything in sight--the American army has. This is them on this side. I'd like some British fellers if you could get 'em. Did you know we licked the British, sure 'nough?" he asked, as if the war had just ended.

"We surely did," Blue Bonnet said, matching enthusiasm with his. It was strange to see a little Jewish emigrant espousing the cause of freedom so rapturously. "Showed them their proper place, didn't we?"

"Bet yer!" Gabriel said, doubling up his fist and aiming a blow at the pillow behind the soldiers. "Bet yer!"

A vivid crimson spot glowed in each cheek.

"You must hurry and get well, and perhaps some day you can go and see the soldiers. I have a friend who is going to be one. He'll be at West Point next year."

Gabriel was very much interested, and Blue Bonnet soon found that she was expected to give Alec's life history to the child.

And so this odd friendship between Blue Bonnet and an unfortunate little waif grew, cementing with each visit, reaching out into a future that meant much to the helpless lad; much to the young girl whose character was strengthened and broadened by the contact.

* * * * *

The advantages for culture offered on all sides in Boston were also of inestimable value to Blue Bonnet. The Symphony concerts were a delight, and wonderful and original descriptions went back to Uncle Cliff, Grandmother Clyde, and Aunt Lucinda of celebrities. Blue Bonnet was a discriminating critic--- if one so young could be called a critic. She had a gift for values. This instinct pleased her teachers immensely; especially Mrs. White and Fraulein Schirmer.

Carita, too, was growing and expanding under the new and favorable conditions, proving herself worthy in every particular of Blue Bonnet's friendship and aid. She had a reverence for Blue Bonnet that was akin to worship, and since she persisted in this attitude of affection, it was well that Blue Bonnet's example usually proved worthy of emulation.

It was a fad in Miss North's school, as in most of its kind, for a younger girl to attach herself to a Junior or a Senior; become her satellite, her abject slave if need be. Carita would have been all this, if Blue Bonnet had permitted it; but being of an independent nature Blue Bonnet required very little service from any one.

"Why don't you let me do more things for you, Blue Bonnet?" Carita would say when she was refused the pleasure of waiting upon her. "I don't believe Annabel Jackson has run a ribbon in her underwear this year. Mary Boyd always does it for her. She loves to do it. Peggy Austin waits on Sue Hemphill, hand and foot. Isabel Brooks is getting a terrible case on Wee Watts, too. By the way, Blue Bonnet, did I tell you? Isabel has the sweetest new way of spelling her name. Isobel! You say it quickly--like this--_Is_obel! Mary Boyd thought of it. I do wish I could find a new way to say Carita, but it seems hopeless."

"Carita! just you let me catch you changing it. _Is_obel! Why, that's perfectly absurd!"

"Not when you get used to it. Peggy thinks it's distinguished. I do too. Peggy has taken up her own middle name. We're all trying to call her by it, but it's awfully hard. She says she perfectly hated it when she was a child, but now she thinks it's quite stylish."

"What is it?"

"Jerusha! Priscilla Jerusha is the whole of it. It does sound dreadful, doesn't it? Peggy loathes it put together. She says her mother does too. She had to be named that for her grandmother because she's going to inherit her money some day. Isn't it splendid that there is such a rage for old-fashioned names now? Peggy says it will make an awful hit with her grandmother when she hears that she is being called Jerusha. She thinks it quite likely that she will do something nice for her. Peggy thinks that she will change the spelling of it though. She thought some of 'Jerrushia.' It is much more foreign sounding, isn't it?"

"It's much more ridiculous," Blue Bonnet said with some impatience. "You children must lie awake nights thinking up these weighty subjects. Jerrushia! Really, Carita, I am amazed at you!"

Which showed that Blue Bonnet was advancing, both in taste and wisdom. "Nearly seventeen" has its advantages over "only fifteen."

This conversation had taken place one afternoon in Blue Bonnet's room during chatting hour, and had been interrupted by the hasty entrance of Sue Hemphill, who was very much excited.

"Blue Bonnet! look here! See what just came in the mail! You have one, too, and so has Annabel! Oh, such a lark! Run down to the box quickly and get your letters!"

Carita was off in a twinkling to save Blue Bonnet the trouble.

Sue threw the letter into Blue Bonnet's lap.

"Read it," she said. "It's from Billy. We're invited to a tea at Harvard. Mrs. White is to chaperon us. It's to be next Friday afternoon, and the boys are coming for us in an automobile."

Blue Bonnet looked as if she didn't quite understand.

"But--Sue, can we go? Will Miss North let us?"

"Oh, yes--with Mrs. White. Why not? You're not doing penance for anything are you?"

"No, certainly not! But it seems quite unusual; going off with a lot of boys like that."

"A lot of boys! There's only Billy, and Hammie McVickar, and an escort for me--Billy doesn't say what his name is. I don't call that such a terrible lot; and Harvard is quite respectable. At least, it is supposed to be."

Sue made a funny little grimace that brought all her dimples into play.

"I think it would be glorious, Sue. I certainly hope Miss North will let us accept."

"She will," Sue said confidently. "She let us go last year. Such fun! It makes me laugh to think of it yet. We went to Billy's rooms. He had a caterer and a great spread. Tea and sandwiches; all kinds of cakes, candies--a huge box for each of us to carry home; and the most beautiful ice-cream with nuts in it. Um! I can taste it yet. Oh, but it was larky!"

"It must have been," Blue Bonnet admitted.

"This time, Billy says, it is to be very select. What he calls a close corporation! Just you and Annabel and I, and Mrs. White. They sent Mrs. White a separate invitation. Wasn't that clever of them, since we just had to have a chaperon? I'm going over to her room now to see if she'll accept. Come along."

Mrs. White evidently felt complimented by the invitation. She was looking it over when the girls entered.

"Of course you won't refuse, Mrs. White, will you?" Sue implored, arms about Mrs. White's shoulders. "Billy quite dotes on you, you know. He says in my note that you've just got to come. He and Hammie will accept no substitute. Billy would be so awfully disappointed if you didn't come."

Mrs. White smiled pleasantly.

"I wouldn't hurt Billy for the world, Susan," she said. The teachers always called Sue "Susan"--those who had known her since her entrance as a very young girl. "You know I never inflict unnecessary pain. I happen to know just how hard your friends would take my refusal. I will consult Miss North."

"Will you? Will you really? Oh, you are such a dear, Mrs. White. And try to show her how very necessary it is for us all to go. Billy does get _so_ lonely without me--we're such chums. Father feels dreadfully to have us separated as we are."

Mrs. White promised to put the matter before Miss North as diplomatically as possible, and let the girls know her decision at the earliest possible moment.

"I think afternoon tea is the loveliest thing," Sue said, as they went back to Blue Bonnet's room for a brief visit. "There's something about it that makes one feel so grown up--so sort of lady-like! I've always said that when I keep house--I shall, you know, for father, as soon as I am through school--that I'll serve tea every afternoon, rain or shine, at five o'clock, and advertise the fact among all my friends."

"It's very hospitable," Blue Bonnet replied absently. "Do they have tea every afternoon at Harvard?"

Sue gave a shriek; then she went off into one of her infectious peals of laughter.

"Blue Bonnet! Oh, that's ripping! At Harvard. What do you take them for?"

"I don't know that that's such an awful _faux pas_," Blue Bonnet said with asperity. "They always have afternoon tea at Oxford. Alec Trent has a friend there and he told him so."

"Well--in England--that's different. It's so awfully English, you know."

"That's why I thought maybe they did it at Harvard. Because it is so awfully English, you know!"

Blue Bonnet's eyes twinkled mischievously.

A few hours later, as the girls were on their way to the gymnasium to dance, Mrs. White overtook Sue and stopped her for a moment.

"It is all right, Susan," she said. "Miss North is very glad to have you accept your brother's invitation for Friday afternoon, and I shall go with pleasure."

Sue's feet took wings as she caught up with Blue Bonnet and Annabel.

"We can go," she announced breathlessly. "Friday! Harvard! I just knew we could. Isn't it great? At two-thirty, remember! And girls! Don't forget--borrow everything you can, and look stunning!"