Chapter 16

ANTICIPATIONS

Spring had come at last. In Woodford, up among the hills, the We Are Sevens--or "Sixes," in the absence of Blue Bonnet--were celebrating its advent with a riding party.

It was Saturday afternoon, as might be suspected from the leisurely way the girls rode through the woods, stopping often to admire the maples and elms and the beautiful chestnuts, just beginning to feel the thrill of life after their long winter nap.

"Seems to me those leaves grow greener while you wait," Kitty Clark said, reining her horse beside a chuckling brook and pointing to a near-by birch grove. "I feel just like this water. I want to run as fast as I can, calling, 'Spring is here! Spring is here!' Don't you perfectly love this odor of growing things? Listen to that phoebe! Doesn't it sound as if he were saying, 'Spring's come! Spring's come!'"

She was off her horse before the other girls had time to answer, climbing the steep sides of the glen in search of the first hepaticas.

"Here they are!" she called back joyfully a moment later. Under the lichen-plastered rocks, among the damp leaves, the delicate blossoms peeped forth shyly. Kitty fell upon her knees and buried her nose in the delicious fragrance.

"Oh, the darlings!" Debby exclaimed, close behind. "Girls! Let's gather as many as we can find, and send a box of them to Blue Bonnet. Remember how she raved over them last year? She said they were almost as lovely as the blue bonnets that bloom in Texas about this time."

The suggestion met with instant approval, and for the next half hour six girls worked busily.

"Seems to me they're awfully early this year," Amanda said, searching under the mahogany colored leaves for the little furred heads. "I never knew them to come before April."

"Oh, you forget from year to year, Amanda," Kitty reminded. "Anyway, it's almost April. A week from to-day is the first. That's the day Blue Bonnet gets here. And, by the way, I have a letter from Blue Bonnet. It came just as I was leaving the house and I waited until we were all together to read it. Suppose we go up on the hill a little farther and get in a patch of sunshine. It's a trifle chilly in the shade, even if Mr. Phoebe does keep insisting that 'Spring's come!'"

"Humph! Short and sweet," Kitty commented, as she drew forth the letter. "Suppose it is because she will be with us so soon."

"DEAREST GIRLS:--

"This is a joint letter to-day. I am so busy with exams this week that I can't do much letter writing. The tests have been something awful. The girls say they grow stiffer all the time--- but no matter! I daresay you have troubles in this line of your own.

"I have the pleasure to inform you, girls, that Uncle Cliff will be in Boston the first day of April, and that he has written me to invite the We Are Sevens to be his guests at the Copley Plaza for three days, beginning on that date. This means that we shall all return to Woodford together for the rest of my vacation. I hope nothing will prevent your acceptance. Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda have been included in the invitation, so you will be well chaperoned. Please answer as soon as possible, so that Uncle Cliff can make his reservations at the hotel. I know that we are going to have a splendid time. Bring your prettiest clothes, as there will be something doing every minute. I can hardly wait to see you all, and to have the 'Lambs' meet you.

"Hoping to hear from you very soon, "I am, ever with dearest love, "BLUE BONNET."

There was an instant's silence after Kitty stopped reading, and then everybody broke forth at once.

"At the Copley Plaza! For three days! To visit Blue Bonnet!"

"Isn't it a blessing that our vacation begins on the first, too?" Debby said. "There ought not to be a thing to hinder our going."

"Nothing but--just one thing, Debby. It takes a lot of pretty clothes to stay in a place like the Copley Plaza. And those 'Lambs!' Blue Bonnet says they dress beautifully. Now, what have we got to wear in a crowd like that?"

"If they're going to like us just for our clothes, Kitty!" protested Amanda. "Besides, you have that new blue voile; you're a dream in it; and Sarah has her wine-colored henrietta. Maybe the rest of us could scrape up something; there's--let's see, four or five days yet."

"Maybe we could get something in Boston," Debby suggested. "Blue Bonnet says they have wonderful bargains. You know she got all her clothes for school ready made, and they were as stylish as could be."

"Perhaps we could; that's an idea, Debby," Kitty remarked thankfully. "It's time for spring clothes anyway. We shouldn't want Blue Bonnet to be ashamed of us."

Debby scoffed.

"Blue Bonnet wouldn't be ashamed of us--no matter what we wear. She's not that kind."

"But she'd like to be proud of us, nevertheless. Those 'Lambs' come from awfully rich families; they must, or they couldn't be in that school. It costs a small fortune to go there."

"Blue Bonnet says they are not a bit airy, though, Kitty; and you hardly ever hear a word about money. Blue Bonnet says Miss North is a regular stickler for simplicity, and that she's forever telling the girls where to place values in this world."

"Where does she place them--these values? What are values anyway?"

It was Sarah's turn to speak up quietly.

"I believe I know," she said. "That's one of father's hobbies. It means getting a true estimate of life. We should value things that are worth while, like education and refinement, honesty and courage. It's very vulgar to put value on money; gentle birth and good breeding count for much more."

"I guess our grandsires could measure up with anybody's," Amanda said proudly. "We're every one eligible to the Daughters of the Revolution."

"What's the matter with the We Are Sevens?" Kitty shouted, and the rest took up the cry:

"Who's all right? We're all right!"

Down the hill they ran merrily, and scrambled into saddles for a wild gallop home. Such news was too good to keep, and before the evening was half spent, arrangements were completed for the coming event, and a letter posted to Blue Bonnet.

And in Boston a young girl awaited the first of April with joy that knew no bounds.

"Only two days more until Uncle Cliff comes, now, Joy," she said, tearing a leaf off from the calendar. "Seems to me I just can't wait. I never was so anxious to see him in my life."

Joy smiled sympathetically.

"It will be lovely," she said. "And you have planned so many things to do, Blue Bonnet. I've been wondering if your uncle will wish to keep all these engagements."

Blue Bonnet turned toward Joy quickly.

"You don't know Uncle Cliff," she said gaily. "He'll have the time of his life. He wrote me that three days were at my disposal; to fill them any way I chose. Want to hear the program?"

"Love to," Joy answered.

"Well, Uncle Cliff gets here the morning of the first; that's Friday."

She went to her desk and taking out an engagement book, began turning the leaves hastily.

"Arrives at eight-fifteen. That ought to get him up here about nine, at the very latest."

"Oh, let the poor man get his breakfast first."

"He'll have that on the train, thank you. Then let me see; yes--here: Nine o'clock, visit with Uncle Cliff. Ten, shopping. Eleven o'clock, hospital. I have a little plan about that. One, luncheon. Two o'clock, matinee--or something; haven't planned that yet. Five, meet Aunt Lucinda and the girls from Woodford. Eight, theatre--"

"Mercy, Blue Bonnet, what a mad scramble! And after a five days' journey across the continent I should think your uncle would be dead!"

"I hadn't thought of that," Blue Bonnet said, contritely. "Perhaps we _had_ better cut out the matinee. I shouldn't wonder if we had. It would be hard on Grandmother, too. But you have to do a lot, Joy! Three days slip away before you know it. Now that brings us up to Saturday, doesn't it? Saturday; let me see. Here it is! Saturday, A. M.: Nine o'clock, shopping. Have a little plan about that, too, if Uncle Cliff's willing; know he will be. One, lunch. Two, motor ride. Six o'clock, dinner for the Lambs and the We Are Sevens. You're in on that, too, Joy; you and Mrs. White. Eight, theatre. Sunday. Eleven o'clock, church at Trinity; hope the Bishop preaches. Two o'clock, visit with relatives. Seven, tea--at relatives, probably. Monday morning--Woodford. Sounds fascinating, doesn't it?"

"Alluring, Blue Bonnet. I hope you'll have a happy time."

"I shall, I'm sure, Joy. I've got to run up-stairs now a minute to talk things over with Carita. Carita goes with me to Woodford for the rest of the vacation."

"Begins to look like a holiday," Blue Bonnet thought as she went through the halls and noticed the trunks at each door. "Wonder if Carita is packing."

But Carita was not packing. She was sitting listlessly in a chair by the window, looking a bit forlorn.

"What's the matter, Carita?" Blue Bonnet inquired.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? You look as if you had the blues."

"No--only--"

"Only what?"

Tears welled in Carita's eyes.

"Only what, dear?" Blue Bonnet's arms were round her.

"I reckon it's just a touch of homesickness. It's seeing the girls packing to go home. I want so to see mother--and Baby Joe. They says he's so darling now. Oh, my arms just ache to hold him sometimes, Blue Bonnet--and--and--Texas is so far away, isn't it?"

The tears were coming in a flood now, and Blue Bonnet got out her handkerchief to stop the flow.

"There! there!" she said. "Just think what a good time we're going to have with Uncle Cliff; and it's only a little while until the tenth of June. Why, the time will just fly after Easter, and--oh, my dear, be thankful that you have a mother to go to--suppose--"

But Carita had turned suddenly and gathered Blue Bonnet in a loving embrace.

"How selfish I am," she said, between sobs. "I didn't think, Blue Bonnet--really, I didn't."

"Of course you didn't. And I didn't mean to remind you; it just slipped out. Sometimes it does, when I see girls crying for their mothers and I remember that I shall--never--have mine. Now, don't cry--please don't. Where's Mary?"

Through her tears Carita smiled.

"She and Peg--Jerusha Austin are down in the office. Fraulein is after them again. Last night, when the trunks were brought up, Mary and Peggy waited until the lights were out and then they fixed up a tick-tack. They hid in the trunks and worked the thing for almost an hour. It was awfully spooky--nearly scared Fraulein to death. She's just furious at both of them."

"How did she find them?"

"Oh, Mary got the giggles! Mary would laugh at her own funeral. Peggy was so cross at her. Fraulein traced the giggles to Mary's trunk."

At that instant the door opened and Mary came in, followed by Peggy.

"What did you get this time, Mary?" Carita asked.

Mary, laughed sheepishly.

"You talk as if I'd been sentenced," she said, smiling, and showing every one of her beautiful teeth.

"Weren't you?"

"No, not this time. Miss North was so disgusted she didn't do a thing. She made us feel as if we were infants; said she thought smothering in a trunk for an hour was punishment enough for anybody. She just talked!"

"And--_talked_!" Peggy added.

"She said that we'd so wrecked Fraulein's nerves--Peg and I--that Fraulein was leaving the school--wasn't coming back after Easter."

"Really? Is that true, Peggy?"

"That we've wrecked her nerves? Hardly. That's just letting her down easy. Miss North's dead tired of her, herself."

"Who's going to take her place?"

"Miss North didn't take us into her confidence," Mary said flippantly. "But I shouldn't wonder if Joy Cross substituted until they get somebody. Joy's a whiz in German. She's had us two or three times lately when Fraulein was having one of her tantrums--beg pardon, nervous break-ups."

Blue Bonnet rose to go.

"Wait a minute, Blue Bonnet," Carita said. "I've some news for you. What do you think! Knight Judson's coming to Boston; my cousin, you know. He's coming with your Uncle Cliff. I've just had a letter."

"Knight Judson! What for?"

"He's always wanted to come, and now he has the opportunity. He's been wild to study engineering, saved his money for it for a long time. Well--he had a chance to come on and do a little work at the Massachusetts Tech. It's awfully late in the year, of course, to enter, but he wants to look up a lot of things and be ready to start in the fall. I'm so anxious to see him. He'll have so much news from home."

"And Sandy? Why didn't he come, too?"

"He will, next year."

"It will be fine to see Knight again," Blue Bonnet said. "Alec will be delighted to know he's coming. They were great friends in Texas."

"Yes, Knight is going to Washington first, then on to Woodford for a few days, with Alec."

"How splendid! Oh, Carita, everything is going so beautifully that it almost makes me afraid. I feel as if the fairies had given me three wishes and they had all come true. I don't know whether I can walk down-stairs or not. I feel like taking a flying leap."

"Take the banister," Mary suggested. "It's safer, and heaps more fun. I tried it yesterday."

Blue Bonnet looked properly shocked.

"Fortunate you didn't run into any one," she remarked.

"But I did! A nice lady who was trying to find Madam de Cartier. We fell--all in a heap!"

* * * * *

The morning of the first of April broke clear and calm.

"Even the weather is on my side," Blue Bonnet said. "I ought to be the very happiest girl in the world--and I am!"

It was a busy time at the school; a general breaking up for spring vacation. In the halls girls scurried in every direction and hasty good-bys were said; trunks were carried out noisily by careless expressmen to the vans that stood waiting outside.

"Terribly exciting, isn't it?" Sue said, passing Blue Bonnet in the hall shortly after breakfast. "I'm so glad Annabel and I are staying over until Monday. Has your uncle arrived yet?"

"I'm just watching for him. He should be here in about ten minutes. I'm keeping my eye on the front door--oh, Sue, there's a ring now; perhaps it's he! It is! It is!"

And the next moment Blue Bonnet was folded in her uncle's arms.

"Uncle Cliff! dear Uncle Cliff!" she cried, rapturously, while she led him toward the reception-room, holding to his arm tightly as if by some chance he might escape. "How ever did you get up here so soon? It's only a quarter to nine, now."

"Taxi, Honey. And the train was on time, fortunately. Come over to the light and let me have a look at you. Why, child, how you have grown! And what's this--long dresses! Honey, Honey, where's Uncle Cliff's little girl?"

There was a note in the man's voice that struck deep at the girl's heart.

"Here she is," she cried, snuggling into the warm embrace again. "She'll never be anything but a little girl to you--never! That's proper length--just a speck below my shoe-tops. Will you sit here a minute while I find Carita? Poor Carita has been a little homesick the last few days. It's seeing the girls start for home, I reckon."

She was away in a trice, bringing back Carita, who welcomed Uncle Cliff with almost as much enthusiasm as Blue Bonnet had.

"Now the plans, Honey. What are they?" Mr. Ashe said, looking at his watch. "Have you had breakfast?"

"Uncle Cliff! An hour ago."

"Well, I haven't. Suppose you get your things together--both of you--and come over to the hotel with me right away. The taxi is waiting."

It didn't take the girls long to get their suitcases and run back to Mr. Ashe.

"All ready?" he inquired.

"Just as soon as we say good-by to Miss North."

At the hotel Blue Bonnet and Carita found themselves in the daintiest suite of rooms imaginable.

"I will come for you in twenty minutes," Mr. Ashe said. "Then we will go down to breakfast. I have a suspicion that you could eat another bite if you tried, while we talk over the plans. Suppose you have them all settled, Honey?"

"Yes, I have, Uncle Cliff. It's going to be very strenuous, too, I'm afraid. I hope you aren't awfully, _awfully_ tired."

At which Uncle Cliff smiled one of his tender, adoring smiles, and patted Blue Bonnet's shoulder affectionately.

"I think I shall be equal to the demand," he said, and was off.

In the dining-room a cosy table was found for three. Many a head turned in passing to gaze at the little party, who, oblivious to time or surroundings, chatted merrily.

It was after they had left the dining-room, that Blue Bonnet, pausing at her uncle's door, asked Carita if she would mind going on to their rooms for just a minute: she had something she must say to Uncle Cliff alone--a secret.

"It's this, Uncle Cliff," she said, when the door had closed, "I want to talk something over with you before Aunt Lucinda comes. You see, I'm not quite sure she'd approve of it, and I want so much to do it. That is--I want to, if we can--without hurting anybody's feelings."

"All right, Honey. What is it?"

She was holding on to Uncle Cliff's coat lapels now, and looking up into his face with the childish trust and confidence she had shown since babyhood, and the man's arm went round her as of old, protectingly.

"You see, it's this way, Uncle Cliff. There's that dinner for the Lambs and the We Are Sevens to-morrow night. Every single one of the Lambs ordered a new gown to wear. I didn't want them to--but they would do it--and--I'm afraid it's going to make the We Are Sevens sort of uncomfortable. So I was thinking, Uncle Cliff--I was _wishing_ that--we--you and I, maybe--could have a little shopping expedition to-morrow morning and--"

She stopped short, not knowing how to go on without putting herself in the wrong light.

"You understand--don't you, Uncle Cliff? It isn't that I'd be ashamed of the girls; you know that. Their clothes are all right--only I know how girls feel not to be dressed quite like others. It makes them awkward and ill at ease, and--"

Mr. Ashe bent over and imprinted a kiss on the brown head, and for a moment his eyes were suspiciously bright.

"I understand perfectly, Honey," he said.

"But just how could we do it, Uncle Cliff--get them some pretty things without making them think--that--that their things weren't right,--good enough, you know? It's an awfully delicate matter."

"So it is, Honey, but I think we can find a way. Was it some pretty frocks you wanted to give them?"

"Oh, if I only _could_, Uncle Cliff. Gowns and slippers to match, and I'd thought of some pretty evening wraps, too. You see, we're going to the theatre, and supper afterward, and the Lambs have such pretty ones. We could afford it, couldn't we? There's no one to spend money on but poor little me."

Mr. Ashe laughed as he smoothed out a pucker in his niece's brow.

"I don't think you need worry about the expense," he said. "You are very fortunate in that respect, Blue Bonnet, and you know I always approve of spending money where it means happiness. Do you need a new frock, too,--and Carita, perhaps?"

"We could each use one," Blue Bonnet answered, "though I suppose Aunt Lucinda wouldn't exactly think _I_ needed it."

"This isn't Aunt Lucinda's affair," Mr. Ashe replied quickly. "It's mine, Honey. How would this do? We'll take the We Are Sevens shopping with us to-morrow morning and when you and Carita have selected your gowns I will suggest that the others select too--a little gift from me--or from you, if you think best."

Blue Bonnet clapped her hands with delight.

"The very thing," she cried. "Then they can't think it was planned. They'll be so delighted. Oh, Uncle Cliff, you are so dear, _so dear_!" The last dear was emphasized with a resounding kiss. "I'm so happy; _so happy_ that it seems as if I couldn't stand it. Isn't this a beautiful old world? Now, we must hurry. I want to get you out to the hospital to see Gabriel the very first thing."

Blue Bonnet had explained at breakfast all about Gabriel, and Uncle Cliff had said little. But he was ready for further investigation.

"I'm not sure that I like the idea of you going about these hospitals, Honey--especially where patients are tubercular. You can contract these things, you know."

Blue Bonnet laughed her scorn.

"How perfectly ridiculous! I'm as healthy as ever I can be. Why, look at me! I've put on eight pounds in three months. That's the very worst of boarding-school--- it's bound to make you fat. Poor Wee Watts is discouraged to death."

At the hospital, although it was not visiting hour, they were allowed to see Gabriel.

"He's not been so well the past week," Miss Warren, the nurse, said. "I think it is the confinement. It is beginning to tell upon him. He ought to be out in the country in the sunshine."

Blue Bonnet sat down on the bed and took hold of the little hand. It was hot and feverish.

"What's the matter, Gabriel?" she said. "This won't do. You promised me that you would get well."

"I will," the child maintained stoutly. "There ain't nothing the matter." The bright eyes flashed a smile.

"We're twins,--me and her," Gabriel announced, directing his remarks to Mr. Ashe. "Our birthdays are the same."

"So I understand."

"Are you her father?"

"Yes, and her uncle, too."

Gabriel seemed mystified.

"You see, I haven't any father--or mother either, Gabriel. My uncle has to be both," Blue Bonnet explained.

"That's like me, too. I'm a orphant!"

Blue Bonnet caught her breath quickly. To be an orphan--and ill; desperately poor, too! The world wasn't such a cheerful place after all.

"I lent the soldiers to another feller," Gabriel said presently. "He's sicker than I am."

"Then you shall have some more, Gabriel. It was fine of you to be so unselfish."

"I wasn't. They made me!"

The nurse started to explain. Gabriel interrupted.

"I want my own--they can fight like--I didn't say it, did I? I told you I wouldn't never again, Miss Warren."

Miss Warren's brow cleared.

"These children have some street expressions that are hard to break," she said. "Gabriel is trying very hard to be a gentleman. He got so excited over the soldiers, Miss Ashe, that we had to take them away."

"_She_ says--" Gabriel began, pointing to Blue Bonnet, "she says you got ponies where you live, an' you can ride 'em. Can you?"

Mr. Ashe smiled.

"Yes. Lots of them. Would you like to ride a pony, Gabriel?"

"Bet yer!"

Mr. Ashe rose and took the nurse to one side.

"Just how ill is this child?" he asked, much moved. "Is there any chance for his recovery?"

"Yes--yes, indeed, under the right conditions. He has tuberculosis of the knee. If only a home could be found for him in the country! He's an unusually bright child, and so lovable. I feel sure that he must come from excellent Jewish people, though he was brought here from the tenement district a few months ago--just after his mother died."

"And you think he'd have a chance in the country?"

"I'm very sure of it, sir."

Mr. Ashe turned away abruptly. Before his eyes swept a vision of the Blue Bonnet ranch--its vast roaming acres; its clear beautiful skies and warm sunshine; of old, lonely Benita, and Uncle Joe. There was ample room _there_--room that shamed him when he looked at this pitiful wasted bit of humanity dying for the need of what it offered.

He went back to the little cot and touched Blue Bonnet's arm lightly.

"Come, Honey," he said. "I think it's time we were going. We'll see Gabriel again."