by Carol Norton
CHAPTER XXIII. A PROUD COOK
On the day of the party Geraldine was up early and at once donned apretty blue bungalow apron. Then followed merry hours, each one filledwith preparations for the dinner. Alfred offered to help stone dates andcrack walnuts, while Danny O'Neil was sent on frequent trips to thevillage.
At five o'clock, with the help of both boys, the dining-room was prettilydecorated; then Geraldine went to put on the dress she had made. Later,with Alfred, she stood near the fireplace waiting the coming of theguests.
They arrived in a procession of sleighs with ringing of bells and tootingof horns.
When Geraldine threw open the door, planning to say "Happy Birthday,Doris!" she was met by a laughing throng of young people, but Doris wasnot among them.
"Why, where is our guest of honor?" the amazed hostess exclaimed as theothers trooped into the brightly-illuminated hall.
Merry it was who replied: "Doris told me to tell you that she had companyarrive unexpectedly. It was so late that there wasn't time to telephoneand ask permission to bring her friend. She knew you would say yes, butshe feared it would inconvenience you."
The gladness left Geraldine's face. "But, Merry," she protested, "wecan't have Doris' birthday party without Doris here. It would be likegiving the play 'Hamlet' and leaving Hamlet out." Then turning to Alfredshe said, "Brother, please drive down and bring back both Doris and herguest."
Just then Danny O'Neil appeared, and, after having greeted the newcomers,she said: "Miss Geraldine, there's a beggar at the back door and sheinsists that she must see you at once."
A month previous Geraldine would have tossed her head and repliedhaughtily that a beggar woman most certainly could have nothing to say to_her_ that she would care to hear. Perhaps even then she might havereplied impatiently had she not chanced to see Jack Lee intently watchingher.
Turning to Merry, she asked her to escort the girls upstairs to removetheir wraps (Alfred was leading the boys to his den), then she hurriedinto the kitchen wondering why a beggar should ask to see her.
In the dimly-lighted back entry stood a frail woman, shabbily dressed,who was leaning on a cane. A black bonnet shaded her face, and Geraldinebelieved that she had never before seen this beggar person. The strangerbegan to speak in a weak, wavering voice. "Miss Geraldine," she said, "Iam a poor widow with one child and seven husbands. Oh, no, I mean onehusband and seven children. My husband is sick, my young ones arestarving. I heard as how you were going to have a fine party tonight andI came to beg you to save a few crumbs for my poor babies."
Geraldine was puzzled. The woman before her was shabby enough to be abeggar, but her plea did not ring true.
"If you will come into the kitchen," the girl replied, "I will pack abasket for you to take to your seven husbands and one child."
There was a shout of laughter from the door leading into the dining-room,and Geraldine, turning, beheld the boys and girls peering over eachother's shoulders watching the fun.
"I just knew it was a prank," Geraldine laughingly exclaimed. Then to thebeggar woman she said, "You're Doris, of course."
"No, she isn't," a merry voice called from the doorway, and there, amongthe others, stood the missing Doris.
The supposed beggar suddenly removed her bonnet and the laughing face ofGeraldine's dearest friend from the city was revealed.
With a cry of joy, the delighted hostess embraced the beggar, rags andall.
"Adelaine Drexel," she exclaimed, "this is the most wonderful surprise.Why didn't you write me that you were coming? Or, Doris, why didn't youtell me?"
Then turning to the smiling housekeeper, the girl exclaimed: "Mrs. Gray,this is my dear little playmate. We have lived next door to each otherever since our doll days. You've heard me speak of Adelaine Drexel juststeens of times."
Then slipping her arm about the laughing beggar girl, she led the way upto her room. Ten minutes later they reappeared. Adelaine had shed hershabby costume and looked like a rose fairy in a pretty pink gown.
When the young people were seated around the blazing log in the library,the stately Colonel Wainright appeared and was gladly greeted by all.Then Mrs. Gray called: "Come, children; supper is ready."
Geraldine laughed. "I just can't impress Mrs. Gray with my age anddignity. She always will call me 'little girl.'"
"I think she is the dearest old lady," Adelaine Drexel declared. "She'sjust my ideal of a grandmother. I am so glad that she is here with you."
Geraldine's own ideas about how one should feel toward an "upper servant"had undergone such a complete change that she now replied withenthusiasm: "I do love Mrs. Gray. She is very superior to her position.She is the Colonel's housekeeper, you know."
In the brightly lighted dining-room the young people were standing whilethe little old lady designated their places. Geraldine noticed that shewas giving up her own seat at one end of the table for the unexpectedguest.
"Oh, Mrs. Gray," she intervened. "You have forgotten our plan. You are tosit there. I won't need a chair just at first, for I am going to serve."
"And I am going to help," Jack Lee declared. Then, taking theself-appointed waitress by the hand, he led her kitchenward.
"That was great of you, Geraldine," he said when they were alone. "Lotsof girls would have let the old lady wait on them. Now give me a towel tothrow over my arm, and a white apron so that I will look like a regulargarcon."
This added to the fun, and for the first time in her sixteen yearsGeraldine found herself actually serving others in what she would havescornfully called, two months before, a manner degrading and menial.
Now and then Bob Angel sprang up to lend a hand, and when Jack and Bobtried to be comedians there was always much laughter and playfulbantering.
The whipped-cream cake was praised until the cheeks of the maker thereofglowed with pleasure. Then, when the others had been served, they movedcloser and made room for Geraldine and Jack. When they were leaving thetable, Doris said softly to the Irish lad:
"Danny, I want to see you alone as soon as possible."
When the young people were in the library playing old-fashioned games,with dear Mrs. Gray and the Colonel joining in now and then, Doris andDanny slipped away unobserved.
They sat on a window seat in the hall and the girl turned such glowingeyes toward the boy that a load of dread was lifted from his heart.
"Good angel," he said, "after all it isn't anything about the highwayrobbery that you have to tell. I can see that by your face. I was soafraid that----"
The girl placed a finger on his lips. "Danny O'Neil," she said seriously,"I want you to promise me that you will never again refer to that mistakein your life. I myself would completely forget it if you did not speak ofit so often. I want you to forget it, too. We must not let the mistakesof our past hold us down. It is what we are, and what we are going to bethat count, not what we have been. Now, remember, sir," Doris shook afinger at him, "your 'good angel' will be good to you no longer if youever mention that subject again."
The lad looked at the pretty girl at his side and said earnestly: "Doris,I can't understand why you are so kind to me, a no-account Irish boy whoisn't anybody and never will be anybody."
Doris laughed. "Danny, would you mind if we changed the subject? I wishto do the talking, so you be as quiet as a little brown mouse while Itell you my glorious plan, but first of all I want to thank you for thebeautiful bookrack that you carved for me. It's hanging on the wall of myroom this very minute and my prettiest books are in it." Then, laying herhand on the boy's arm, she added: "Danny, please don't call yourselfgood-for-nothing. It is not right for us to speak that way of the giftsthat God has given us. Mother thinks that the carving of the bookrackshows that you have unusual talent and that the wild rose design is verypretty."
The boy's face glowed with pleasure. "Oh, Doris," he said eagerly, "doyou really think that maybe, sometime, I could make good with mydesigning? You don't
know what it would mean to me if I could."
"It would mean a whole lot to me, too, Danny," the girl said, rising."Now we must go back to join the others, but there, I have forgotten thevery thing that I wanted to ask you, which is this: Are you willing thatI send the bookrack to a friend of Mother's who is an artist? He would beable to tell just which course of training you ought to have."
"Good angel, would you do it for me?" the boy asked eagerly. "Then Iwouldn't have to be just groping in the dark. I'd know better how to planmy life."
These two joined the others, who had not missed them. Merry was talkingto Geraldine and Doris joined them.
"Why didn't Myra Comely come to your dinner party?" the president of the"S. S. C." was asking their hostess. "You invited her that night at ourhouse."
Geraldine nodded. "And, more than that, I dropped her a card telling herthe date and that I would send my brother after her, but she 'phonedearly this morning that her mother had caught a severe cold that mightdevelop into pneumonia and she could not possibly leave her."
"Poor girl!" Doris said. "I'm glad tomorrow will be Saturday again. Ishall drive around and see if there is anything I can do for them. Motherwould want me to. She likes Myra ever so much. She wanted to meet herwhen she returned the laundry last Thursday, and she said she thought heran unusually fine girl. Myra told Mother that she had hoped to be able togo through Teachers' College that she might care for her mother, who isnot strong. But now I suppose she will have to give up, just as she isabout to graduate from High."
"O, I hope not!" Merry said. Then three of the boys approached to claimthem as partners for a dance.