Chapter 22

THE LAMBS' FROLIC

School-days cannot last forever. The fact was borne in on Annabel Jackson as she sat in her room one afternoon shortly before Commencement. It wasn't going to be such an easy thing to tear up root and leave Miss North's after four years as she had imagined. How was she ever going to get along without the girls? There was Sue--dear old, impulsive, warm-hearted Sue, companion in so many escapades. And Ruth, and Wee Watts--Blue Bonnet, too! The parting was going to be especially hard with Blue Bonnet. _She_ would in all probability disappear on the Texas ranch, and except for an occasional Christmas greeting or birthday card, pass out of her life altogether.

There were the teachers also,--Mrs. White and Professor Howe and Madam de Cartier--and, yes--even Miss North, austere and dignified and unapproachable as she was, would be missed out of the little world; a world she had grown to love very dearly, despite its limitations, its frequent vexations.

"Mercy! you look as if you'd lost your last friend, Annabel," Ruth Biddle commented from her seat by the window, where she was doing her best to stop a runner in a silk stocking.

"I have, I'm afraid--or will," Annabel answered dolefully. "Do you realize that in just fifteen days we shall be saying good-by to these old walls, forever--you and I? I didn't think it was going to be so hard, Ruth. Doesn't it break you all up when you think of it? Do you relish the idea of other girls having this room next year--hanging their things in our closets; planning feasts and frolics behind barred doors while we pass on to the ranks of 'young women?' The idea doesn't appeal to me as much as I thought it was going to."

Ruth bit off her thread and regarded the room a moment in silence.

"Wonder where they'll keep their provisions," she said, eyes toward the box couch which had secluded many a staple article. "Do you suppose they'll find the refrigerator, and know enough to make black curtains for the transoms?"

A gleam shot from Annabel's roguish eyes to Ruth's.

"Let's put them on," she said. "Write a letter and will them our secrets. We can hide it in the refrigerator."

The refrigerator--a loose brick discovered one day just under the window on the outside wall--had proved a boon to Annabel and Ruth. By the least bit of digging from the inside a passage had been made, large enough to accommodate a bottle of milk, a pint of ice cream or any other delicacy that required cold storage. It had been necessary to cut the wall paper, and the plastering, of course,--a daring thing to do, but the girls had felt no great qualm of conscience.

An elaborate calendar covered the aperture. It had been observed many times by visitors that the calendar hung low, but Annabel was always quick to remark that there was no other place, the room, being full to overflowing with pictures, pennants, etc. A truth which could not be gainsaid.

"Splendid!" Ruth cried, with more enthusiasm than she was wont to show, and got out paper and pencil immediately.

"Better get ink, Ruth. Who ever heard of a last will and testament being written in pencil? Here! let me do it."

For a minute Annabel scratched away busily, and this is what Ruth read over her shoulder:

"TO THE NEXT OCCUPANTS OF THIS ROOM

"GREETINGS!

"To you, whoever you may be (we hope the best ever), Ruth Biddle of Scranton, Pennsylvania, and Annabel Jackson of Nashville, Tennessee, former occupants, do bequeath our good will, our confidence, our social standing (which is thrown in gratis along with the most expensive room in the school), and do entrust to your everlasting protection such of our possessions as you may find useful and necessary. The black cloths, which you will find in this secret hiding-place, fit the transoms over the door and in the bathroom. The candles you will find convenient for midnight feasts and orgies; the refrigerator indispensable for cold storage; the box couch excellent for provisions, such as Nabiscos, crackers and cookies. To you also we do bequeath the residue of our estate: the wicker tea-table; the picture of the Queen Louise; the china cat on the mantel-piece, which has proved an invaluable mascot. This together with our best wishes, congratulations, and the hope that you will continue to dispense hospitality and radiate good cheer and comfort from these portals. "Signed: "Witnessed by:"

"You don't mean to say you're going to give your tea-table to utter strangers, do you, Annabel?" Ruth asked in surprise.

"I don't mean to pay storage or freight on it. Certainly I'm going to leave it."

"And the Queen Louise? I thought you adored her!"

"I did once, but she makes me so nervous, eternally coming down those stairs, gazing off into the distance as if she were treading on air. I'm getting terribly tired of her."

"And the cat? You remember the day you bought that, Annabel? You were about the most homesick person in Boston. You said it looked like your own 'Lady Jane Grey' at home, and you cuddled it half the night. I don't see how you can part with it."

"Oh, it goes with the room," Annabel answered indifferently. "You know yourself it's kept away mice. We've never had _one_, and look at Wee Watts' room, and the sky parlor--"

A knock interrupted further history.

Blue Bonnet put her head inside.

"Girls!" she said excitedly, "we're going to get our three days' cut, and oh, guess what's happened! Patty Paine's mother's here--we just left her down in the reception-room, and she's invited us all--the Lambs--down to her summer home in Maine at a place called Sargentville. They have a cottage there, and she's going down and will take us, and Miss North says we can go."

Annabel pulled Blue Bonnet into the room and looked at her skeptically.

"Really, Blue Bonnet? Do you mean it?"

"Of course I mean it. And Annabel--isn't it too splendid?--every one of the Lambs has brought her average up to eighty, so we can all go! We are to leave Friday and get back early Monday morning. Patty's perfectly wild about it, and her mother's a dear."

Blue Bonnet hurried off to bear the good tidings, but the news had preceded her. In Patty's room a group of girls chatted excitedly.

"Oh, Blue Bonnet, have you heard the news? We're to go--"

"I should say I have," Blue Bonnet interrupted. "I came to tell you."

"Well, Angela got ahead of you. Come in. Patty will be up in a minute. She and her mother are making arrangements with Miss North. Isn't it too utterly splendid?"

"And Fairview Cottage is the most ideal spot in the world," Angela put in dreamily. "I'm so glad that it is full moon time. There's a place around Sargentville called Caterpillar Hill, with the most fascinating road winding up to it. I loved it so that I wrote an ode to it last year when I visited Patty."

"Will the family all be there?" Sue inquired.

"I fancy not," Angela said. Being Patty's room-mate, she was well up on the Paine affairs. "Mrs. Paine is going down to open the cottage for the summer. The servants all went yesterday. Patty says she's going to try to get the boys to come up over Sunday, but she isn't at all sure they can--they're at Yale, you know."

"The boys" were Patty's two brothers, who were studying law at Yale.

"Isn't Sargentville the place where Ben Billings' family have a summer home?" Sue inquired quite casually; but the remark brought a laugh. Ben Billings, despite his very ordinary name, and Sue's particular aversion to it, had sailed into her ken with meteor-like brilliancy. She had changed her opinion of him since the visit to Harvard, and was the object of considerable teasing. Such rhymes as the following had found their way to her desk and room often:

"Her home is in the Middle West; But what's the difference, pray, With Harvard, dear old Harvard, Scarce five miles away?"

"Yes, of course they have," Angela answered. "Ben was there last summer. He was awfully attentive to me. We went rowing together no end of times. Their home is only a stone's throw from Fairview. You must be awfully nice to Mrs. Paine, Sue; maybe she'll ask you to remain on--over into the summer."

Angela thoroughly enjoyed seeing the color mount Sue's cheeks, as Sue adroitly changed the subject.

The girls found Sargentville all that Angela's highly colored imagination had pictured it. Miss North permitted the girls to leave Boston on Thursday night, so, arriving at Sargentville early Friday morning, they had three full days at their disposal. And days filled to the brim they were!

The first great treat was Fairview itself. Just why it was called a cottage, baffled Blue Bonnet's Western conception of that title.

"Why, it's almost a mansion!" she whispered to Annabel, with whom she occupied a charming room. "One almost gets lost in it. I didn't know that Patty was so rich."

It spoke well for Patty--indeed for Miss North's school--that none of the girls knew. Patty was simplicity itself, as was also her mother.

The first afternoon was taken up with a riding party. Fairview stables held the best saddlers in the country, and the girls had great fun choosing mounts. All the horses were reputed to be safe and gentle, and the party started off in high spirits. The country roads proved delightful, winding through woods and abandoned farms. Haunted houses abounded; and Patty had many a tale to tell of the forlorn places where wells had fallen in, windows were smashed, and a general air of desolation prevailed.

The second day, Angela's favorite spot, Caterpillar Hill, was chosen for a moonlight picnic. The girls started early to catch the sunset from the summit which was, according to tradition, well worth the climb. Slowly, majestically, the great red ball dropped behind the Camden hills, leaving a trail of splendor behind; and in the little village of Belfast lights glimmered and flickered.

"Seems almost as if they were saying, 'Come down! Come down!' as they wink up at us," Blue Bonnet said, watching them, quite fascinated. "Look, Angela!"

But Angela heard not. The islands with the many light-houses, like great protecting eyes, held no charm. Nature was inspiring her, as always with the poet's vision. Lost to her companions she dreamed on in utter oblivion.

"Will some one kindly bring Angela back to earth," Sue said. "Ask her if she'd exchange that view for the sight of a ham sandwich. I'm starving."

Sunday, too, was a day of peaceful, beautiful experiences. It was just as well that Patty could not prevail upon her brothers to leave Yale for the week-end, as she had hoped, for the girls' time together was growing so short that they begrudged every moment that separated them. Boys, naturally, were a diversion.

"We're going to sail through the islands to-day," Patty announced at breakfast. "At noon we'll stop somewhere and cook lunch. There are lots of lovely places. We might have a little service, too. I think Miss North would like it. Angela can read the prayers and the lesson for the day and we'll sing our favorite hymns. And then I thought it would be nice, if we have time, to have a sort of farewell meeting of the Lambs--we won't be together much longer, you know."

Something rose in Patty's throat that prevented further speech, and her eyes filled suspiciously.

There was an awed silence for a moment, and then it was Blue Bonnet who spoke:

"I don't believe any of us could stand a _last_ meeting, Patty. I hoped we wouldn't have any."

"But there's business," Sue insisted.

"Our vows and pledges for time to come," Wee supplemented.

"I move we write them and have them recorded, by our secretary, on the books," Annabel suggested. "I'm with Blue Bonnet. It's going to wrench my very soul to give up the Lambs. Oh, girls, I love you all so much, and maybe I'll never see any of you again after this year."

At this there was a general breakdown. Handkerchiefs played a more important part at the morning meal than the delicious bacon and fresh rolls that graced the table.

It was Wee Watts as usual who saved the day.

"Mercy on us, Annabel," she said with scorn, though the twitching of her lips belied her bravado, "any one would think we were all going to pass away, or go to live in a foreign country. _I'm_ not. Indeed I have plans for visiting Nashville in the near future--to show the natives what a real Yankee looks like."

That night seven happy girls reviewed the day with pleasure. The sail through the islands had been a joy--the dinner a delight; the service a benediction that would long linger in the minds of all present. It had been such fun to cook the meal--fry the bacon on the end of a forked twig over the glowing camp fire; to tramp through the purple fields of rhodora, gather the low pink mounds of sheep laurel; to quaff great breaths of the fragrant sea air.

There had been just a suggestion of a Lambs' meeting, too. The song of the Lambs had been sung with much enthusiasm and feeling, and many injunctions passed on to the Junior part of the assemblage for use during the next year. There was a wild enthusiastic cheer for Sargentville; an equally ecstatic one for Mrs. Paine and Fairview, and then the little company pulled for shore to pack their several belongings and make ready for the boat which left at sunrise the next morning.

The days which preceded Commencement were happy ones for Blue Bonnet. While she shared in a measure Annabel's depression at parting from friends, her association with the school had not been of such duration that it made her absolutely unhappy to leave it. The bright, sunny days had brought many pleasures. Among them were visits with her grandmother, who, now that the weather was seasonable, made frequent trips to Boston. There was a possibility of a separation from Blue Bonnet in the future, and Mrs. Clyde wished to be near her as much as possible.

"You have quite decided to go back to the ranch with Uncle Cliff for the summer, dear?" she asked Blue Bonnet one afternoon. It was Friday, and Blue Bonnet was spending the week-end with her family; Uncle Cliff was still in Boston. Aunt Lucinda had taken out her sewing and there was a very homey atmosphere--even in the garish hotel room--conducive to a confidential chat.

Blue Bonnet did not answer for a minute.

"I _think_ so, Grandmother," she said presently. "It seems almost as if I should. Uncle Cliff needs me--and there's Gabriel, too! I should like to get him started in his new quarters. Do you know what Uncle Cliff is doing? Having a sleeping-porch built for him. We're going to bring him up outdoors. Doctor Clark says we won't know him in a year. The change has been perfectly wonderful in the little time he has been in Woodford. I had a letter from Miss Warren yesterday. She says he's crazy over the little Shetland pony Uncle Cliff bought for him--that he has a short ride every morning. Knight Judson has been spending a week-end with the General and he's been awfully kind to Gabriel. The pony? Oh, we were a little afraid to trust Gabriel to a Texas mustang yet, so Uncle Cliff found this little fellow. We're going to ship him ahead of our departure, so as to be at the ranch ready for Gabriel."

"Gabriel is a very lucky boy," Mrs. Clyde said. "A _very_ lucky boy."

"Oh, I don't know, Grandmother. He _is_--of course. But we're lucky, too--Uncle Cliff and I. You can't think what company he'll be to us. It's going to keep us from growing selfish and self-centred to have him. You know I've always wanted an orphan asylum all my own. This is just a starter."

Grandmother smiled into the enthusiastic young face.

"Do you ever look ahead into the future, Blue Bonnet, and plan your life a little?" Aunt Lucinda asked. "It seems to me that you are old enough now. Your mother was but a year older when she married."

"And you want me to think about--that--too?" Blue Bonnet asked mischievously.

"No; not yet. You are younger for your years than your mother was, and times have changed; but there is a forward movement all over the world to-day--onward and upward. I should like to feel that with the many blessings meted out to you, you could find your place in the world's work--become an avenue for good. I wish that you might have a definite purpose and work to an end. That is the only way to accomplish anything."

Blue Bonnet's face was shining as she answered:

"That's just exactly the way _I_ feel, Aunt Lucinda. For that reason I should like to come back here to school next year and be near Miss North. She has promised to let me do settlement work--to have a day each month at Dennison House--and Uncle Cliff has already put aside some money for my use. Gabriel isn't the only forlorn child in the world. Perhaps in the years to come he and I may be able to relieve others in distress--help make the world a little easier for those less fortunate than ourselves. That's what I _want_ to do. That's what I _will_ do!"

For a moment Miss Clyde's face softened into something very like tenderness. She would have considered it extremely bad form to have shown how much Blue Bonnet's words touched her, or to have revealed the pride she felt; but Grandmother, leaning forward, pressed a kiss on the sweet face upturned to her own.

"That's my dear girl," she said, "my own dear Blue Bonnet! It is exactly what your mother would have wished--would have done, with your opportunity."

At the school the days flew along at an astonishing pace. Commencement--that event long looked forward to--was now in sight. Excitement was in the air. Rooms began to have a deserted appearance as one after another of the little things that had adorned the walls were packed or stored.

"Commencement is a good deal like a funeral, isn't it?" Blue Bonnet said to Joy Cross, who, true to prediction, had taken Fraulein's place in the German department, and with satisfaction.

"It isn't as cheerful as it might be," Joy answered, checking off an examination paper. "It is hard for the girls who aren't coming back. I hear that Annabel is positively sick over it. I had no idea she was so fond of the school."

"Oh, it isn't altogether the school--it's the girls. Annabel is so loyal and she gives so much of herself in her friendships."

Joy folded up her papers and put away some books. Then she came over to Blue Bonnet and slipped her hand in hers shyly.

"There's something I want very much to say to you, Blue Bonnet," she began. "I hardly know where to commence. It's this--principally: I want to thank _you_ for the position that has been offered me in this school next year."

Blue Bonnet looked incredulous.

"Thank--me," she stammered. "Why, me?"

"Because without you I never should have had it. You helped me find it--and myself, Blue Bonnet. You remember the trouble we had--" A deep crimson for a moment dyed Joy's face, but her voice never faltered, nor did her eyes leave Blue Bonnet's. "Up to that time no one ever understood me--I think I didn't understand myself--quite. And you were kind to me--you tried to help me--make the girls like me. I can never forget it--never! Any more than I can repay you."

For answer Blue Bonnet threw her arms round her room-mate and gave her a warm embrace.

"I couldn't have done anything else, Joy, and have been human, so don't give me too much credit--please. I don't deserve any."

They both laughed. Blue Bonnet seemed quite inadequate to the occasion.

"And you're going to teach German? How perfectly splendid!"

"Yes; and that isn't all. Miss North is taking me to Dresden with her for the summer. I am to go into a German family to perfect my accent, where I shall not hear a word of English until next September."

"Joy!"

"Isn't it wonderful? Oh, Blue Bonnet, I don't know how all these things have come to me. They are so much more than I deserve; but I shall try hard to be worthy and to do Miss North credit. You have no idea how I long to make it up to her."

This was a long speech for quiet Joy, and it was a good thing for both girls that Carita appeared at that moment, for the flood gates were opened and a deluge threatened.

In Carita's wake followed Mary and Peggy.

"Mary wants you to come down-stairs and meet her mother, Blue Bonnet," Carita said. "She came for Commencement. Peggy's mother will be here to-morrow. Oh, dear, I wish Texas wasn't so far off."

It was but a few days before the closing of school and the halls and corridors were filled with strange faces.

"Annabel's mother is here too," Mary said, leading the way down-stairs. "She's b-e-a-utiful. Annabel looks just like her."

A fact Blue Bonnet found to be true a moment later, when she was presented by the radiant and altogether happy Annabel.

There was a half hour's chat, and then Blue Bonnet ran up to her room again. She closed the door softly and going over to the window stood for a moment looking out over her favorite view. Her eyes were full of tears.

"No, you won't--you just sha'n't cry!" she said to herself after a moment's struggle for self-control. The sight of so many girls had awakened all the old longings. "You've got the _best Uncle_ that ever was born into the world--_the best Grandmother--the best Aunt_! You haven't any right to feel sorry for yourself;" and fleeing as if from wrath to come, she ran hastily across the hall and burst into Sue's room, where a crowd of girls were holding high carnival.