CHAPTER XV.

GRETCHEN'S KAFFEEKLATCH.

Another year of Gretta's life had rolled around and brought with it her thirteenth birthday. The little club of "warriors" had not been without its influence upon her behavior, and she had become so ready to enter upon her duties, so cheerful in performing them, and so much less resentful in accepting the reproof which was perhaps too frequent in that busy and overworked household, that her elder sister--whom she had so complained of when the subject of forming their club was first mentioned--had decided that Gretta must have a little birthday party, and asked her whom she wished to invite.

Gretta was greatly delighted, for she had long been wishing to have a meeting of the club at her home, but had hardly known how to broach the subject. She immediately gave her sister the list, and while the latter was somewhat surprised that it should be so small, it was something of a relief to find what she had thought would be quite an undertaking so greatly simplified. It was decided that the girls should be invited to come at four o'clock and that supper should be served at half past five.

Promptly at the hour named Winnifred and Miriam appeared, followed soon after by Fannie, and then by Ernestine. The door was opened by the smiling-faced, German maid-of-all-work, and the girls were met at the foot of the stairs by Gretta, who took them up to the library on the second floor. "Here we will have no one to bother us," said Gretta. "My mother is out of the city on a visit to my uncle, and my sister has a music pupil in the parlor, so we'll have the library all to ourselves."

"How jolly!" said Miriam, looking around. "Oh, here is a big reclining-chair! We'll call it the president's chair, and Winnifred shall occupy it, because she was the first one to think of this club."

"Yes! yes!" they all insisted, so Winnifred climbed into the big chair, and the other girls ranged themselves in various attitudes around her.

"Do you know," said Miriam, with a half laugh and a half sigh, "I don't find fighting such easy work as I thought I would. I like to dress up my 'little observations,' as my brother calls them, just as much as I ever did, and I almost got into a temper this morning because my hair pulled when I began to comb it out."

"And I have been wishing we were richer," said Ernestine, whose great ambition it was to be contented with all that came to her. "You know we had such a hot spell last week, and mamma ought to go away this summer. She is getting thinner and thinner, and she has those awful headaches more and more often lately."

"I don't see why everybody can't have the things they want," said Fannie, feeling guilty to think she ever had a cross minute.

"I said that to mamma last week," said Ernestine, "when I felt uneasy about her, and she said it all comes from something in ourselves. That didn't make it any easier for me; nothing did, until I thought of the One who had not where to lay His head. Then I felt ashamed."

For a minute the girls were silent. Then Winnie said, "Well, I, for one, don't think I have quite killed that ugly old Hate. I can't bear to stop doing what I like, to please other people. I was reading 'Grandfather's Chair' last night, and I just hated to stop and tell Ralph his story before he went to bed. You know he always expects a story from some one of us, and last night nobody had the time but me."

"I'll tell you what upsets me more than anything else," said their little hostess; "that is, to have to jump up from the piano to answer the bell. And there's never a day that I don't have to do it; sometimes three or four times."

"What is your bugaboo, Fannie?" said Miriam; "or don't you have any?"

"Don't I? I believe I have more than any of you," was the answer. "But the thing that grieves me most is that I can't wear prettier and more expensive dresses to school. You know, lots of the girls who haven't half as much money as we dress a great deal better. Mamma would not care so much, but papa won't hear of such a thing."

"What awful troubles we all do have!" said Miriam, laughing.

"Miss Embry would say you shouldn't use 'awful,'" said Winnie from the depths of the big chair.

"There, you've hit it exactly!" said Miriam. "There is my bugaboo in a nut shell, and it really is an awful one. You know I like to make things sound strong, so I use all the strong-sounding words I can find; and I suppose I do exaggerate. Although I am reproved on all sides, it hasn't the slightest effect on me, except to make me wish that all the people who reprove me, or remind me of someone who does reprove,"--here she made big eyes at Winnie--"were hard of hearing when I am about. No, no; my motto is:

"'Tameness and slowness can't stay with me; They and I will never agree.'"

"And yet," said Ernestine, "there are a great many very interesting things told in very simple language and without getting away from the white truth."

"Well," said Miriam, "to tell the white truth myself just this once. I don't know whether I want to conquer this or not. I don't believe it is really much relation to the Giant Untruth. I think it's only a little dwarfish imp, a Brownie, who simply 'growed,' like Topsy, and to me is just about as interesting."

"And yet even you couldn't call Topsy beautiful," said Ernestine readily.

"Hardly," laughed Miriam. "But now we've all owned up, let's parade rest, as we say in our broom drills;" and she threw herself back on the sofa, where she sat as if indeed resting from a hard-fought battle.

The five formed a group of American girls good to look upon in their sweet springtime. Ernestine, with serious gray eyes, fair, slender, and tall for her fifteen years, sat erect but graceful in a straight, high-backed chair, her very pose denoting a peaceful courage. Fannie, with skin soft and rosy and eyes of a rare violet hue, occupied a low seat, her arms resting on the sofa against which she was leaning. Miriam, with dark, sparkling eyes and long, thick hair, looking brimful of life in spite of her present lazy attitude, sat just behind Fannie. Next came Winnie, small even for her twelve years, brown-eyed and dainty, looking fond of luxury, as she undoubtedly was and always would be, and yet good and high-minded. Last Gretta herself, a true German, with blue eyes and thick, light braids, a trim and compact little maiden. She sat near a table, her chin in her hand, with its flexible, square-tipped fingers--the fingers of the born and made pianist--for Gretta had "begun," as her mates used to tell, at the age of four.

It was a pleasant room in which they sat; it had many books, German and English and a few in other languages, and where no book-cases rested, the walls were hung with pictures of musicians--Mozart and Bach and Mendelssohn and many others as companions; and on a pedestal stood a bust of Beethoven, whom--so Gretta told the girls as they looked around--her father considered the greatest of them all.

Just then Winnie glanced up at the clock and saw that it was fifteen minutes past five. She made a motion to the girls, at which they all jumped up, and, joining hands, formed a circle around Gretta. Before she had had time to do anything but look astonished, Miriam stopped behind her, and, holding something over her head, said, "Heavy, heavy hangs over your head. What shall the owner do to redeem it?"

Before Gretta had a chance to answer, Miriam had dropped into her lap a box of pretty note-paper, and replied to her own question by saying, "The owner shall redeem it by writing to the giver this summer a letter for each week they are separated."

Then the girls circled about again, and this time Winnifred stopped behind Gretta, saying:

"Open your mouth and shut your eyes, And I'll give you something to make you wise."

Gretta did as she was bidden, and Winnie popped a big marshmallow into her mouth, depositing the remainder of the box in her lap.

They circled about her for the third time, and Fannie stopped behind her, saying, as Miriam had done, "Heavy, heavy hangs over your head. What shall the owner do to redeem it?" and continued, "Read every word of it and enjoy it," and placed in Gretta's hand a copy of "Little Lord Fauntleroy."

Yet again they circled about her, singing:

"A rosy wreath I twine for thee, Of Flora's richest treasures; Take, oh, take, this rosy, rosy crown, Flora's richest treasures, Flora's richest treasures,"--

and Ernestine placed a crown of flowers on Gretta's brow.

Gretta was quite overcome with pleasure and surprise, for the girls had so skillfully hidden their little gifts that she had not even caught a glimpse of them.

Just then the door opened, and the hostess' sister appeared at the door, saying, "Tea is ready, Gretta." Before they did anything else, however, Gretta had to exhibit her presents. They were duly admired, and then Miss Josephine said, "Come on, now; I'll head the procession. Keep step."

Through the open door came the sound of a lively march, which even Gretta had never heard before.

"That is a new march which father composed in honor of your birthday. He calls it 'Gretchen's March.'"

They all felt very important as they marched down the stairs, headed by Miss Berger, who led them out into the long parlor and twice around it, while her father at the piano, with a merry twinkle in his eyes, kept on playing, and then out into the dining-room.

The table was set for five only, and the girls, directed by Miss Josephine, took their seats, with Gretta at the head, to the inspiring strains of the lively march.

It proved a most enjoyable little feast. Miss Berger left the room as soon as they were all seated, and then the same smiling-faced maid who had opened the door for them, also departed, and gave them an opportunity to look about.

At Gretta's place was a set of cunning china cups and saucers, which had been sent her from Germany when she was quite a little child. The cups were just about the size of after-dinner coffees, and the smiling Mina had insisted on calling the little party "Gretchen's Kaffeeklatch." Miss Berger had been so amused that she fell in with the idea, and had decided that they really should have coffee and some of Mina's coffee-cake on the bill of fare.

As Gretta filled the little cups, and the coffee and its delicious adjunct were passed around, five tongues chattered as fast as those of their elders might have done on a similar occasion.

When the coffee-cake and sandwiches and chicken salad had been disposed of, Gretta touched the bell at her place, and Mina appeared. After clearing the table, she brought in a great cake with thirteen little candles on it burning away merrily, and a great bowl of lemonade. Miss Josephine came in and cut the cake and served the lemonade, and was as entertaining and companionable as any of them could have desired.

They sat at the table a long time, then they went into the parlor and were introduced to Gretta's father. They shook hands with him timidly, for they had been so impressed by his strictness with Gretta in regard to her musical studies that they were a little afraid of him. Though they felt vaguely conscious that he was looking at them quizzically, he threw off the yoke of business entirely and entered into their games like a boy.

Among the other enjoyable things they played "Magic Music." It was really the game of "Hunt the Slipper," and when the music was soft they were "cold," and when it was loud they were "hot." Mr. Berger played for them, and never before had these girls played this game to such music.

The four girls walked home together in the Late twilight, declaring to each other that they had never had such a delightful time; and Fannie, who had once spoken so contemptuously of Gretta as a "music teacher's daughter," was loudest in her praise.