The Turned-About Girls

by Beulah Marie Dix

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE END OF A PERFECT DAY

  When Caroline woke in the morning, she was surprised to find herselfstill in the green and golden room with the bookshelves. She had ratherexpected to find that the house with the dim, cool rooms, and thesongful piano, the white and nickel bath and the ladies (not herrelatives!) who were so kind and friendly, were all alike the fancies ofa dream, and that she was back in Cousin Delia's close little stuffyhouse, with the smell of frizzled breakfast ham wafting up from thekitchen, and the eldest baby clamoring to be dressed at once.

  But the room, she found, was real, and the bath was real. She couldalmost believe that she was _really_ Jacqueline. She only wished shewere!

  She dressed herself in the henna-colored frock, and she dressed Mildredvery carefully, in a little white muslin with pink sprays, most becomingto Mildred's blond beauty. Then she opened her bed to air, and sat downby the window, where she could watch the mountain. In the morning lightit was quite different from the mountain of yesterday afternoon. Thegreen of the trees and the red of the exposed sandstone were very sharpin the strong sunlight, and gave the huge pile a spick and span look, asif it had made itself fine for the summer day.

  She had put on the little watch which was Jacqueline's, though it seemedalmost too nice to wear every day, and the little watch said that it washalf past eight, when there came a knock at the door. Caroline flew toopen it, and there stood Aunt Eunice, in a cool gray and white lawn.

  "Good morning, Aunt Eunice!" cried Caroline. "Oh, how nice you look!"

  She reflected then that perhaps she shouldn't have said anything sopersonal, but Aunt Eunice didn't at all mind. Instead she smiled one ofher shining smiles, and there even came a little fleck of pink into hersoft old cheeks. She bent to kiss Caroline, and suddenly, because shejust couldn't help it, Caroline put her arms round Aunt Eunice andhugged her, and Aunt Eunice hugged her back. You don't know how goodthat seemed to Caroline. There had been no one to hug her since hermother died. Cousin Delia was a very busy woman, and then, too,alongside the four babies, Caroline doubtless seemed to her quite grownup, and too old to need cuddling.

  Hand in hand Aunt Eunice and Caroline went down the long curved stairand through the stately hall into the dining room. Cousin Penelope wasalready there and the glass coffee machine, which Caroline found asfascinating as any mechanical toy, was distilling an amber-hued,fragrant liquid. They sat down at once to another of those well-orderedmeals that filled Caroline with amazement--almost with awe. She hadn'tknown that food could be so good.

  There were great red strawberries, which still wore their green elfcaps, and little glass dishes of powdered sugar, into which you dippedthe berries daintily, after a swift glance to see how Cousin Penelopedid it. Then there were bowls of crisp cereal, with rich cream, andbacon, so thin and so deftly cooked that it crumbled into savory sliversunder your fork. There were thin slices of brown toast, piping hot, andthere were wee muffins of bran, which came to the table in a silverdish, wrapped cozily in a fine white napkin. There were little balls offresh butter, and in a bewitching jar, shaped like a beehive, there wasstrained honey. All the milk to drink, too, that one could want. Andwould Jacqueline like an egg for her breakfast?

  "Thank you, no, please," murmured Jacqueline's understudy, and then,remembering the cold egg that she had lately eaten from the shoe box,she added: "I--I'm not extra fond of eggs."

  "Neither am I," Cousin Penelope said heartily.

  Funny, thought Caroline, that Cousin Penelope should be so pleased atevery resemblance between them, but very nice of her. In time shethought she should like Cousin Penelope, though never so much as she_loved_ Aunt Eunice.

  After breakfast Aunt Eunice asked Caroline to come walk with her in thegarden, and said, yes, she could bring Mildred. So Mildred, in herpink-sprayed frock and white bonnet, and Aunt Eunice and Caroline walkedsoberly in the shadiest parts of the garden. Aunt Eunice wore a broadhat, tied under her chin with wide streamers of lawn. She paused once togive directions to Frank, who was gardener as well as chauffeur, andmuch more human in khaki overalls than Caroline had thought him the daybefore in his imposing uniform.

  Aunt Eunice showed Caroline all the special beauties of the garden--hernew rosebushes and her old thrifty plot of perennials, the pear treesthat later would furnish them fruit more delicious, Aunt Eunicebelieved, than any they could buy in the shops, and the row ofgooseberry bushes, where the berries already were setting in tiny,reddish furry blobs.

  At the farther side of the garden they sat down in a little rusticsummer house, covered with woodbine. Caroline gazed with all her eyes atthe scene before her--the garden with its bright flowers of earlysummer, blues and pinks and strong yellows, and its fruit trees, withgray-lined leaves of glossy green, its smooth white walks and dark edgesof box, and beyond the garden the old white house, with its clusteredchimnies, the elms that shaded it, the mountain far beyond, the blue skyover all. She thought it as breathlessly, chokingly lovely in its colorand clear outline as the loveliest of the pictures in her room.

  But Aunt Eunice looked nearer home. She took up Mildred, and carefullyexamined her clothes.

  "What delicate fine stitches!" she said. "Did you make this dressyourself, Jacqueline?"

  "No, Aunt Eunice. I can't sew as well as that." Indeed, thought Carolinewith pride, not many people could sew as nicely as her mother, who hadmade that precious wardrobe of Mildred's, every stitch.

  "Do you like to sew?" went on Aunt Eunice, with a little, mysterioussmile.

  "Oh, yes," said Caroline, truthfully.

  There had been long hours in her life, when school was over and Motheraway giving music lessons, when she must either run the streets or amuseherself in their room. Mother had beguiled her with handiwork to choosethe room, and not the street. Caroline sewed really rather better thanmost little girls of her age, and she liked to sew. She wished that AuntEunice could see the pair of rompers she had made, all alone, for CousinDelia's youngest baby.

  "I'll tell you what," said Aunt Eunice. "I'll get out some pretty silkpieces, and you and I will make this dolly some new dresses. It's yearsand years since I've had a doll to sew for. Would you like that,Jacqueline?"

  Caroline smiled and patted Aunt Eunice's plump white hand.

  "I'd just love it, Aunt Eunice. Can we begin to-day? I don't want tolose any time."

  Indeed she didn't, the poor little impostor! She wanted to squeeze allthat she could into every moment that she passed in this dream-house.For the moments, as she knew, might already be numbered.

  But there was no doll's dressmaking that morning, for just then Salliecame briskly through the garden with a message. Miss Jacqueline's trunkhad been sent up, and Miss Penelope wished her to come at once and seeabout unpacking.

  Up in the golden green room, all fresh and ordered for the day, Carolinelooked helplessly at the big trunk that was Jacqueline's. When she hadgot the key from Jacqueline's vanity bag, and Sallie had opened thetrunk, and she saw that it opened like a closet, and glimpsed the frocksall hung on frames, she looked more helpless still. She was thankfulwhen Cousin Penelope took charge of things.

  "Sit down, Jacqueline," Cousin Penelope bade with decision. "Sallie willunpack, and I'll look things over. It's the quickest way for me to findout what you have and what you haven't, and if you are like mostchildren, I shall need to know."

  So Caroline sat down in the rocker, with Mildred on her knee, and in analoof, cool manner watched the taking out of what seemed to her theprincess-like wardrobe that had been wished upon her. There were frocksof organdie and crepe de chine, of muslin and fine gingham. There werejumpers of tricotine and of jersey, and delicate little frilled blousesof silk. (Privately Caroline wondered where the _everyday_ frocks couldbe!) There were a dozen pairs of shoes and slippers and boots andsandals, all on nice little beribboned trees. There were little coatsand sweaters of many colors and all sorts of texture. There were stacksof
filmy undergarments, and lapsful of silken socks. There were gartersand hair-ribbons and handkerchiefs and silk gloves. There was a lovelylittle blue leather writing-case, and a jewel-case, and a camera.

  Everything in the trunk Caroline, sitting gravely silent, admired withall her heart, except the riding suit. When she saw the little whitebreeches and the sleeveless brown coat unfolded, her heart sank withinher.

  "Oh, Cousin Penelope!" she cried in despair. "Have I _got_ to ridehorseback?"

  She was almost in tears. She had never been on a horse in her life. Ifthey put her on one, they'd know in a minute she wasn't Jacqueline, andthe piano and the Polish lady would be lost to her forever.

  Cousin Penelope came to her side. For the first time Caroline saw herprotective and almost tender. She understood it all, did Penelope. Thathorsy Amazon, Edith Delane, had forced that sensitive, timid littlegirl, who was _all_ Gildersleeve, as any one could see, into ridinghorseback and doing the athletic feats to which the Delane woman hadreferred in her letters. Well, the Delane woman was hundreds of milesaway, and Penelope was here in charge.

  "We arranged for a saddle-horse, as your aunt wished," she toldCaroline. "But you are _not_ going to ride _at all_, my dear, unless youwish to."

  So the horrid specter of a ramping steed was laid at rest, and Carolinewent happily through the hours of the day that was brimful of wonders.She played for an hour on the piano. She ate a luncheon that seemed toher grander than most dinners. Then she sat with Aunt Eunice in AuntEunice's room, which was furnished with old dark pieces of polishedwood, with glass knobs on the drawers. Aunt Eunice had the dearest ofwork tables, all unexpected drawers and cubbies, and she had a pieceboxfull of pretties that she could turn into trifles for bazaars--bits ofsilk and satin, velvet and brocade, quarter-yards of wide figuredribbon, bits of lace and silver tissue, flowers of silk.

  Together Aunt Eunice and Caroline planned a sumptuous party frock forMildred, and they even cut it out and gave her a first fitting, whichMildred endured with more patience than some young ladies display onsuch occasions.

  They did not get beyond the fitting, though, for Cousin Penelope camestrolling in, to say that Jacqueline had better dress now. They must begoing along to Madame Woleski's.

  "Just stop at Miss Crevey's, will you, and get me some thread," badeAunt Eunice. "I shall need eighty cotton and a spool of sixty, ifJacqueline and I are going into the dressmaking business."

  It seemed to Caroline hardly necessary to change her frock. She thoughtthe henna-colored crepe good enough for almost any occasion. But ofcourse she did not argue with Cousin Penelope. She was terribly afraidlest she might make herself too fine, but she took Cousin Penelope as aguide, just as she did at the table, and she decided that if CousinPenelope wore a cool muslin, she would wear muslin, too. So she put on apretty muslin, with small yellow roses on a white ground and yellowflowers of organdie at the ribbon girdle. Her socks were of white silkand her sandals of white kid. From the hatbox she selected a whiteleghorn, with stalks of yellow wheat and some wee blue flowers round thecrown.

  She was in two minds about opening the jewel-case. She had the key inJacqueline's vanity bag, tied fast to the trunk key, but it seemedrather horrid to make free with Jacqueline's jewelry. Still if shedidn't wear any, people might suspect she wasn't Jacqueline. So sheunlocked the leather case, and marveled at all the pretty pins andchains that she found laid in the little velvet lined drawers. Sheselected a chain of queer small beads, with flecks of yellow and blueand green in them that would go nicely with the colors in her dress andher hat.

  It seemed that she had by chance selected very wisely, for when CousinPenelope came to look her over, she fairly flushed with pleasure.

  "So you put on the beads I sent you," she cried. "That's a very prettytribute, Jacqueline."

  "I--I like them," stammered Caroline.

  "So do I!" said Cousin Penelope, quite merrily. "How many things we havein common!"

  This made Caroline feel at home with Cousin Penelope, and they chatteredtogether, quite volubly for two people so shy and self-contained, whilethey drove through Longmeadow Street to Madame Woleski's.

  The house that the Polish lady had taken for the summer was quite at thefarther end of the Street, right under the shadow of the mountain. Itwas a little, irregular house which had been an artist's. The livingroom had a big window on the north side, and the piano was drawn acrossit. The furniture was old and dingy, and nothing matched with anythingelse, thought Caroline. There were dark, rich-looking small rugs on thefloor, and on the walls were unframed sketches, which seemed to Carolineto look like not much of anything, unless it were the drawings thatCousin Delia's eldest baby made. But Caroline didn't know as much aboutpictures as she knew about music.

  Madame Woleski was thin and dark, with an intense face and untidy hair,and long, nervous hands. She smiled at Caroline vaguely and sent her toplay in the garden, while she talked with Cousin Penelope.

  Caroline didn't like the garden. She was afraid of hurting Jacqueline'spretty clothes. But she found a clean bench where she could sit insafety, and then along came a great fluffy cat, the color of an orange,and he was friendly, after a condescending fashion, so she was able toget through the time until she was called into the house.

  Madame Woleski wanted Caroline to play for her, and Caroline did so,quite simply. Mother had taught her long ago that when you were asked toplay, you either declined with all courtesy, or you sat down and played.There was no excuse for shilly-shallying and waiting to be urged.

  Caroline played, and Madame listened, and when the playing was over, amaid brought in a silver tea-service, and they had some crumbly darkfruit cookies, and fragrant strong tea, and tiny slim glasses ofcordial. Caroline of course only had cookies. She said, no thanks! tothe tea and the cordial, and Madame smiled at her, and offered her somecrystallized fruit in a silver box.

  "Next time you come, I have milk for you to drink, little one," shesaid. "Because you come again. But before you come, you do every day twohours thees exercise."

  She went herself to the piano and showed what "thees exercise" shouldbe, and she told Caroline she might come and play for her in themorning, three days later.

  Then the call was ended, and Caroline and Cousin Penelope were rollingaway in the limousine from the funny little house, while Madame Woleski,with the orange cat carelessly tucked under her arm, like a piece offur, nodded them a good-by from her sunken doorstone.

  "My dear!" said Cousin Penelope, with real enthusiasm. "Do you realizethat you are now a pupil of Woleski's?"

  Caroline nodded solemnly. She was too happy to chatter as she had doneon the way to the little house. But she was no happier than CousinPenelope. For Penelope had loved her cousin, Jack Gildersleeve, and nowshe had his child, who in spite of everything was like her, here besideher in the car, and she was going to give her what her coarse and stupidDelane relatives, with all their wealth, had failed to give her--themusic that she loved and craved!

  So completely was Penelope carried away with her vision of Jacquelinesome day a great musician, and turning to her--not to the Delanes!--forunderstanding and sympathy, that they had driven past the shops beforeshe realized it. Then she smiled at her own preoccupation, and toldFrank to turn back.

  There were only four shops on Longmeadow Street. They stood in the verycenter of the village, in the shadow of the Orthodox church, and justacross the street from the little inn. There was a general store, andthe Post Office, where you bought hardware and sundries, and a meatmarket, which was open only twice a week, and Miss Crevey's little shop,where you could buy talcum and tape, peppermints and pins, andaltogether the funniest mixture of drygoods and druggist's supplies,confectionery and notions that ever was seen outside the shop that theold sheep kept in the Looking Glass Country.

  "Eighty cotton and sixty cotton," said Cousin Penelope, as she andCaroline, in their cool pretty frocks, stepped out of the limousine."I'll get a cube of black pins, too, and some laces for my walk
ingshoes. One ought to encourage the little local shops--they're a greatconvenience."

  Caroline smiled, but not at Cousin Penelope's words. She was smiling atthe world. Because she had on a party frock, and was going home todinner with dear Aunt Eunice, and she was a pupil of Woleski's.

  Smilingly, Caroline tripped up the steps at Cousin Penelope's side, andinto the little crowded shop, and then the smile left her face just theway figures leave a slate when you draw a wet sponge across it. For shesaw two children standing at the counter, where the cheap candies weredisplayed. One was a boy in old knickers and a shabby shirt, the otherwas a girl in faded Peggy Janes, and Caroline had recognized those PeggyJanes and knew what was coming, even before the girl turned her bobbedbrown head and showed the face of Jacqueline Gildersleeve.