by Carol Norton
CHAPTER VII. AN UNWILLING HOSTESS
Meanwhile in the handsome home of Colonel Wainright, on the hill-roadoverlooking the distant lake, a very discontented girl sat staringmoodily into the fireplace of a luxuriously furnished living-room. Herbrother stood near, leaning against the mantlepiece.
"I won't stay here!" Geraldine declared, her dark eyes flashingrebelliously. "I won't! I won't! Father has no right to send me to thisback-woods country village. What if he _was_ born here? _That_ surely was_his_ misfortune, and no sensible reason why _I_ should be condemned tobe buried here for a whole winter."
"But, Sister mine," the boy said in a conciliatory tone. "I've beentrying to tell you that there are some nice girls living in Sunnyside,but you won't let me. If you would join their school life, you would soonbe having a jolly time. That's what _I_ mean to do."
"Alfred Morrison, I don't see how you came by such plebian ideas. Ishould think that you would be ashamed to have your sister attending adistrict school when you know that I have always been a pupil at a mostfashionable seminary and have associated only with the _best_ people."
"What makes them the best, Sister?"
The girl tapped one daintily slippered foot impatiently as she saidscathingly: "Alfred, you are _so_ provoking sometimes. You know theEllingsworths and the Drexels and all those people are considered thebest in Dorchester."
Alfred was about to reply that there was a family of Drexels living inSunnyside, but, luckily, before he _had_ said it, his attention wasattracted by the ringing of a cow-bell which seemed to be out in thedriveway. Geraldine also heard, but did not look up. Some delivery wagon,she thought, but Alfred, who stood so that he could look out of thewindow, understood what was happening when he saw the village girlsdescending from a delivery sleigh. They slipped out of their fur coats,leaving them in Johnnie's care, and appeared in shawls and old-fashionedcapes. For a puzzled moment Alfred gazed; then, as something of themeaning of the joke flashed over him, he almost laughed aloud. LuckilyGeraldine continued to stare moodily into the fire, nor did she look upwhen Alfred left the room. Before the girls on the porch had time to ringthe bell, the boy opened the door and, stepping out, he asked quietly butwith twinkling eyes: "Why the masquerade?"
"Don't you dare to spoil the joke?" Merry warned when she had told himthat since his sister had expected them to be milkmaids, they had notwanted to disappoint her. Then she informed him: "My name is Miss Turnip.You introduce me and I'll introduce the others." Alfred's eyes werelaughing, but in a low voice he said, "I'm game!"
Then aloud he exclaimed: "How do you do, Miss Turnip. I am so glad thatyou came to call. Bring your friends right in. My sister will be pleasedto meet you."
Merry, in telling Jack about it afterwards, said that Alfred played hispart as though he had been practicing it for weeks.
"Sister Geraldine," he called pleasantly to the girl who had risen andwas standing haughtily by the fireplace, "permit me to present the youngladies who live in Sunnyside. They have very kindly called to welcome youto their village."
The newcomers all made bobbing curtsies, and, to her credit be it said,that even little Betty did not giggle, but oh, how hard it was not to.
Of course there had been classes in good breeding in the Dorchesterseminary. One of the rules often emphasized was that it did not matter_how_ a hostess might feel toward a guest, she must not be rude in herown home. So Geraldine bowed coldly and asked the young ladies to beseated.
Alfred, daring to remain no longer, bolted to his room and laughed sohard that he said afterwards that he couldn't get his face straight for aweek.
Peggy Pierce, being the best actress among "The Sunny Seven," had beenasked to take the lead, and so, when they were all seated as awkwardly aspossible, she began: "My name is Mirandy Perkins. We all heard as haowyew had come to taown, and so we all thought as haow we'd drop in and askif yew'd like to jine our Litery Saciety. We do have the best times. Nextweek we're a goin' to have a Pumpkin Social. Each gal is to bring apumpkin pie and each fellow is to bring as many pennies as he is old tohelp buy a new town pump for the Square. That's why it's called Pump-kinSocial."
This remark was unexpected, not having been planned at the dressrehearsal, and it struck Rosamond as being so funny that she sputteredsuspiciously, then taking out a big red cotton handkerchief, she changedthe laugh into a sneeze.
Geraldine sat stiffly gazing at her callers with an expression that wouldhave frozen them to silence had they been as truly rural as they werepretending, but, if she had only known it, these country girls had beenattending a school every bit as fashionable as the seminary of which sheso often boasted.
"I thank you," that young lady replied, "but it is not my intention toremain in this backwoodsy place. I plan leaving here next week at thelatest."
"Wall, naow, ain't that too bad? We thought as how yew'd be seech anaddition to our saciety," Peggy continued her part. "Of course we allfeel real citified ourselves. We get the latest styles right fromDorchester for our toggins."
"Toggins?" Geraldine repeated icily. "Just what are they?"
There surely was a titter somewhere; but Peggy, pretending to besurprised, remarked: "Why, toggins are hats and things like Jerushy'shere." She nodded at the caricature of a red hat with green and pinktrimmings which was perched on Rosamond's head.
Merry returned to the rehearsal lines from which they had sidetracked.
"Yew'd enjoy our Litery Saciety, I'm sure," she said, "bein' as yew havea litery sort of a look. We meet onct a week around at differunt houses.We sew on things for the missionary barrel, and then one of us readsaloud out of The Farmers' Weekly."
Just then the clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour of four, and Peggysprang up. "Crickets!" she exclaimed, "Here 'tis comin' on dark most, andme not home to milk the caows."
"An' I've got to churn yet before supper," Doris Drexel ventured herfirst remark. Luckily Geraldine did not glance at the soft, white handsof the speaker. They were all smiling in the friendliest fashion, but assoon as they were outside and riding away in their queer equipage, theyshouted and laughed as they had never laughed before.
"Her highness will probably leave town tomorrow," Doris remarked, "but ifshe does, the town will be well rid of her."
"I wonder if we put it on too thick," Bertha questioned as they wereslipping on their fur coats, which they had left in the sleigh. "I wasafraid she would see through our joke."
"I don't believe she did," Merry said. "Alfred told Jack that his sistergot her ideas of girls who live in country villages from the movingpictures, and they are always as outlandishly dressed as we are."
"Well it will be interesting to see what comes of our nonsense," Gertruderemarked. "On the whole I feel rather sorry for that poor, unhappy girl."
When Alfred saw the queer equipage disappearing, he descended to thelibrary. "Oh, hello, Sis," he said, "Have your callers gone?"
Geraldine's eyes flashed and she stamped her small foot as she said:
"Alfred Morrison, I just know that you asked those dreadful creatures tocall on me. I suppose you would like to have _me_ attend their PumpkinSocial, which is to be given to raise money to buy a town pump."
This was too much for Alfred and he laughed heartily.
"Well," he said at last, when he could speak, "I take off my hat to theyoung ladies of Sunnyside. They are the cleverest damsels that I evermet." So saying, he disappeared, fearing that he would break his promiseto Merry and reveal that it was all a joke if he remained any longer withhis indignant sister.
Geraldine would probably have packed her trunk that very night anddeparted the next day if she had had sufficient money with which to buy aticket, but for some reason her monthly allowance from her father hadbeen delayed.