The Turned-About Girls
Page 25
CHAPTER XXIV
NEVER AGAIN
Perhaps blood doesn't tell quite as much as Cousin Penelope believed itdid. Certainly Jacqueline and Aunt Martha, who were no relation to eachother, were more alike than Caroline and Aunt Martha could ever havebeen. So much alike they were that almost instantly each drew back intoher own corner of the seat, as if they were ashamed of the way in whichthey had clutched each other.
Aunt Martha gave her attention to backing and turning the Ford, with theleast possible damage to the lawless onions that overflowed into thehighway. Jacqueline leaned back in her seat and stretched her tired legsand sighed with blissful relief. Neither spoke till the car was safelyheaded homeward. Then Jacqueline found her voice--such a meek voice!
"Were you--looking for me, Aunt Martha?"
"Didn't think I'd be driving to the village at this time of evening justfor the fun of it, did you?"
Such a cool, clipped, everyday voice Aunt Martha spoke in! Who wouldhave dreamed to hear it that she had hugged Jacqueline two minutesbefore?
"How did you know--I'd gone to the village? I might have been mostanywhere."
"I shouldn't have known where to look for you, more'n if you'd been aneedle in a haystack. I _didn't_ look for you," said Aunt Marthadefensively. "But when old Mrs. Gildersleeve called me up and said you'dbeen seen up in the village----"
"Mrs. Gildersleeve called up--about me?" Jacqueline repeated stupidly.Aunt Eunice had telephoned to Aunt Martha! Of all people! How did sheknow? Why should she care?
"She's an awful nice woman," Aunt Martha said warmly. "She's the kindthat'll bow just as friendly to old Si Whitcomb on his hay-rack as shedoes to Judge Holden in his wire-wheeled car. She had to call twicebefore she got me, 'cause that feather-headed Williams girl on our partyline was planning with the minister's youngest daughter how she'd dyeand turn and cut her last winter's suit. I think they made a batch ofdevil's food, too, and settled the reputations of half their neighborsbefore they got off that line. I know, 'cause I was trying to put in acall myself."
Was it about her, Jacqueline wondered? But she decided it was best toask no questions.
"Soon's Mrs. Gildersleeve got me," Aunt Martha went on, "I thought I'dbest start out on the chance of meeting with you."
"Thank you very much," Jacqueline murmured, oh, so meekly.
Was Aunt Martha going to scold her now, she wondered? Well, perhaps itwould be over before they reached the farm. She waited in the silencethat grew worse and worse every minute, for every minute she realized,with a deeper sense of guilt, what a lot of trouble and anxiety she hadgiven the Conways. At last she just couldn't stand it any longer.
"Aunt Martha," she burst out, "_are_ you going to send me to anInstitution?"
Aunt Martha turned and stared at her through the darkness. Jacquelinecould see the whites of her eyes under the brim of her ugly, cheap hat.
"A--what?" Aunt Martha asked sharply.
"Institution," babbled Jacqueline.
"Well, of all the--Whoever put such an idea into your head?"
Jacqueline came pretty near saying: "Caroline!" She remembered just intime that _she_ was Caroline.
"Cousin Delia said it," she faltered. "She seemed to think I'd go to anInstitution--if you didn't want me--if I was a trouble."
"Delia Meade said that?" Aunt Martha's voice was positively fierce.
"Um-m," Jacqueline almost whimpered.
"Well!" said Aunt Martha. "I must say! I have my opinion."
Evidently it was of Delia Meade that she had the opinion. From the toneof her voice Jacqueline hoped that Aunt Martha would never have thatsort of opinion of _her_.
"I'm not a heathen, _I hope_!" said Aunt Martha.
Jacqueline thought of a picture in one of her travel books at home. Inthe picture some young women with bushy hair, and bone earrings, andwreaths of flowers round their necks, and not much else in the way ofcovering, were dancing round a huge stone image. Those were heathen, ifyou please! Aunt Martha couldn't be like them if she tried for a hundredyears. The mere thought of Aunt Martha looking like that made Jacquelinewant to laugh. But she decided that she'd better keep the joke toherself.
They turned in presently at the Conway farm. How quickly they had come,and what an endless time it would have taken Jacqueline to cover thedistance on her smarting feet! Aunt Martha ran the Ford into the barn,and with Jacqueline's help closed and padlocked the great clumsy doors.None of the boys were there to help her. Why, it must be ever so late!
When they came into the kitchen, where a dim lamp burned, Jacqueline sawby the hands of the steeple-roofed kitchen clock that it was going oneleven--a desperate hour for the Conway farm! They had come in softly,but Grandma must have been lying awake and listening for she calledinstantly from her dark bedroom:
"That you, Martha? Did you find her safe?"
"All right, Mother Conway," Aunt Martha spoke guardedly, so as not towaken Annie. Then she whispered to Jacqueline! "Go in and say goodnightto Grandma. It'll be a load off her mind to see you're all right."
Jacqueline didn't feel the least bit like laughing, as she went a-tiptoeinto the little bedroom off the kitchen. She had been horrid, sherealized. She almost wished that Aunt Martha and Grandma had been horridand hateful and scolded her--yes, and let her find her way home, allalone, in the awful dark. If they had, she wouldn't have needed to feelso hot and ashamed as she felt now.
She stole round Annie's crib and paused at the bedside. Grandma put outher hard old hand, with its twisted knuckles, and caught at Jacqueline'shand.
"Ye ain't come to no harm, Jackie?"
"No, Grandma," whispered Jacqueline.
"'Tain't like it used to be when I was young. The Meadows ain't the bestplace for little folks to run about in after dark. Don't ye do it again,Jackie, ever!"
The old voice was tremulous.
Jacqueline dumbly stroked the hand that held hers. She couldn't seem tospeak, yet she did so want to say: "I'm sorry!" Wasn't it odd that inall her life she had never once been able to say those two words? Shecouldn't say them now, though her throat was dry and her eyes wereaching with tears that she didn't mean to shed. She pressed Grandma'shand hard.
"I'm going to get you some new cups." That was what she said at last."Thin as egg-shells. I didn't mean to break yours. I--I won't let youwork so hard to-morrow, Grandma."
"There, there, child! 'Course you didn't mean to break 'em."
Their hands fell apart. Folks didn't kiss and cuddle much in the Conwayhousehold.
"Get yourself something to eat before you go to bed, Jackie. I put sometop-milk in the blue pitcher for you, and left it in the cellar-way."
"Thank you, Grandma."
"There's fresh raisin cookies, too, in the tin. Good-night, Jackie."
"Good-night, Grandma."
Very softly Jackie stole back into the kitchen. She found Aunt Marthalighting the burner beneath the big kettle.
"The water'll be more than blood warm by the time you've eaten," saidAunt Martha. "Take a pitcher full upstairs and wash your feet before youget between the sheets. You'll have to wash your hair to-morrow. Youlook as if you'd burrowed head first into a sand bank."
Jacqueline blushed, and wondered if Aunt Martha would make any more nearguesses at the truth. But Aunt Martha made no further comments. Shebusied herself in putting the cat outside, and locking doors, andbolting windows. Meantime Jacqueline fetched her cookies and her pitcherof milk, and sat down at the kitchen table, in the dim light of the oneoil lamp, and ate and drank, hungrily and thirstily. To look at her, youwouldn't have guessed that she wanted to say, "I'm sorry!" But she did,and the dryness in her throat took half the good taste out of the milkand the cookies.
"Aunt Martha!" she spoke suddenly.
Aunt Martha paused in winding the clock, and looked over her shoulder atJacqueline.
"I'm going to get Grandma some new cups," said Jacqueline.
A smile
that was quizzical and a little bit pitying played round AuntMartha's lips. But all she said was:
"That's the right idea. Get a box to-morrow and put your pennies in ittill you've saved enough. It'll take some time, but it's no more thanfair. Now trot along and get some sleep while it's cool. It'll be aclear, hot day to-morrow, or I miss my guess."
And to-morrow was Caroline's party! Suddenly Jacqueline felt her crushedspirits revive, and her dampened pride rekindle within her. If AuntMartha, and Grandma, and Aunt Eunice, too, had all most unexpectedlybeen good to her, she at least had evened up things a little by beinggood to Caroline.
"I'm glad I didn't quit," Jacqueline told herself, as she toiled up thestairs, dead tired, with her pitcher of lukewarm water. "I'm glad I toldCaroline I'd stick it out here, and oh! I'm going to be glad for all mylife that I let the kid have her old party."