The Little Colonel: Maid of Honor

by Annie F. Johnston

  CHAPTER XV.

  THE END OF THE HOUSE-PARTY

  With the desire to make this last walk together as pleasant as possible,Lloyd immediately put Bernice out of her mind as far as she was able.But she could not rid herself entirely of the recollection thatsomething disagreeable had happened. The impression bore down on herlike a heavy cloud, and was a damper on her high spirits. Outwardly shewas as gay as ever, and when the walk was over, led the party on aforaging expedition to the pantry.

  Rob and Phil were almost uproarious in their merriment now, and, as theydevoured cold baked ham, pickles, cheese, beaten biscuit, and cake, theyhad a fencing-match with carving-knives, and gave a ridiculous parody ofthe balcony scene in "Romeo and Juliet." Mary, looking on with asandwich in each hand, almost choked with laughter, although she, too,was borne down by the same feeling that depressed Lloyd, of somethingvery disagreeable having happened.

  She had been so ruffled in spirit all the way home that she had laggedbehind the others, and it was only when Rob and Phil began theirirresistible foolishness that she had forgotten her grievance longenough to laugh. No sooner had they all gone up-stairs, and she wasalone with Joyce, than her indignation waxed red-hot again, and shesputtered out the whole story to her sister.

  "And," she said, in conclusion, "that hateful Bernice Howe said themeanest things to Katie. Elise and I were walking just behind, and wecouldn't help hearing. She said that Lloyd had deliberately set to workto flirt with Mr. Shelby, and get him to pay her attention, and that, ifKatie would watch, she'd soon see how it would be. He'd be going to seeLloyd all the time instead of her."

  "Sh!" warned Joyce. "They'll hear you all over the house. Your voice isgetting higher and higher."

  Her warning came too late. Already several sentences had penetrated intothe next room, and a quick knock at the door was followed by theentrance of Lloyd, looking as red and excited as Mary.

  "Tell me what it was, Mary," she demanded. "What made Bernice act so? Iwas sure you knew from the way you looked when you joined us."

  Mary was almost in tears as she repeated what she had told Joyce, forshe could see that the Little Colonel's temper was rising to white heat.

  "And Bernice said it wasn't the first time you had treated her so. Shesaid that Malcolm MacIntyre was so attentive to her last summer whileyou were away at the Springs; that he sent her flowers and candy andtook her driving, and was like her very shadow until you came home. Thenhe dropped her like a hot potato, and you monopolized him so that yousucceeded in keeping him away from her altogether."

  "Malcolm!" gasped Lloyd. "Malcolm was my especial friend long befoah Ievah heard of Bernice Howe! Why, at the very first Valentine pahty Ievah went to, he gave me the little silvah arrow he won in the archerycontest, for me to remembah him by. I've got it on this very minute."

  She put her hand up to the little silver pin that fastened the lace ofher surplice collar. "Malcolm _always has_ called himself my devotedknight, and he--"

  She paused. There were some things she could not repeat; that scene onthe churchyard stile the winter day they went for Christmas greens, whenhe had begged her for a talisman, and his low-spoken reply, "I'll bewhatever you want me to be, Lloyd." There were other times, too, ofwhich she could not speak. The night of the tableaux was the last one,when she had strolled down the moonlighted paths with him at TheBeeches, and he had insisted that it was the "glad morrow" by hiscalendar, and time for her Sir Feal to tell her many things, especiallyas he was going away for the rest of the summer on a long yachting trip,and somebody else might tell her the same things in his absence. So manyyears she had taken his devotion as a matter of course, that it provokedher beyond measure to have Bernice insinuate that she had angled for it.

  Lloyd knew girls who did such things; who delighted in proving that theyhad a superior power of attraction, and who would not scruple to use allsorts of mean little underhand ways to lessen a man's admiration forsome other girl, and appropriate it for themselves. She had even heardsome of the girls at school boast of such things.

  "For pity's sake, Lloyd!" one of them had said, "don't look at me thatway. 'All's fair in love and war,' and a girl's title to popularity isbased on the number of scalp-locks she takes."

  Lloyd had despised her for that speech, and now to have Bernice openlysay that she was capable of such an action was more than she couldendure calmly. She set her teeth together hard, and gripped the littlefan she still happened to be carrying, as if it were some live thing shewas trying to strangle.

  "And she said," Mary added, slowly, reluctant to add fuel to the flame,yet unable to withstand the impelling force of Lloyd's eyes, whichdemanded the whole truth, "she said that she had been sure for some timethat Mr. Shelby was just on the verge of proposing to her, and that, ifyou succeeded in playing the same game with him that you did withMalcolm, she'd get even with you if it took her till her dying day.Then, right on top of that, you know, she heard him ask if you'd gohorseback riding with him. So that's why she was so angry she wouldn'tbid you good night."

  Lloyd's clenched hand tightened its grasp on the fan till the delicatesticks crunched against each other. She was breathing so hard that thelittle arrow on her dress rose and fell rapidly. The silence was sointense that Mary was frightened. She did not know what kind of anoutburst to expect. All of a sudden, taking the fan in both hands, Lloydsnapped it in two, and then breaking the pieces into a hundredsplinters, threw them across the room into the open fireplace. She stoodwith her back to the girls a moment, then, to Mary's unspeakableastonishment, forced herself to speak as calmly as if nothing hadhappened, asking Joyce some commonplace question about her packing.There was a book she wanted her to slip into her trunk to read at theseashore. She was afraid it would be forgotten if left till next day, soshe went to her room to get it.

  As the door closed behind her, Mary turned to Joyce in amazement. "Idon't see how it was possible for her to get over her temper soquickly," she exclaimed. "The change almost took my breath."

  "She isn't over it," answered Joyce. "She simply got it under control,and it will smoulder a long time before it's finally burnt out. She'sdreadfully hurt, for she and Bernice have been friends so long that sheis really fond of her. Nothing hurts like being misunderstood andmisconstrued in that way. It is the last thing in the world that _Lloyd_would do--suspect a friend of mean motives. From what I've seen ofBernice, she is an uncomfortable sort of a friend to have; one of thesensitive, suspicious kind that's always going around with her feelingsstuck out for somebody to tread on. She's always looking for slights,and when she doesn't get real ones, she imagines them, which is just asbad."

  If Lloyd's anger burned next morning, there was no trace of it either inface or manner, and she made that last day one long to be remembered byher departing guests.

  "How lonesome it's going to be aftah you all leave," she said to Joyce."The rest of the summah will be a stupid anticlimax. The house-pahty andthe wedding should have come at the last end of vacation instead of thefirst, then we would have had something to look forward to all summah,and could have plunged into school directly aftah it."

  "This July and August will be the quietest we have ever known at TheLocusts," chimed in Betty. "Allison and Kitty leave to-night with youall, Malcolm and Keith are already gone, and Rob will be here only a fewdays longer. That's the last straw, to have Rob go."

  "What's that about yours truly?" asked Rob, coming out of the house andbeginning to fan himself with his hat as he dropped down on the porchstep.

  "I was just saying that we shall miss you so much this summer. Thatyou're always our stand-by. It's Rob who gets up the rides and picnics,and comes over and stirs us out of our laziness by making us go fishingand walking and tennis-playing. I'm afraid we'll simply go into ourshells and stay there after you go."

  "Ah, ha! You do me proud," he answered, with a mocking sweep of his hat."'Tis sweet to be valued at one's true worth. Don't think for a momentthat I would leave you to pine on the stem if I cou
ld have my own way.But I'm my mother's angel baby-boy. She and daddy think thatgrandfather's health demands a change of air, and they are loath toleave me behind. So, unwilling to deprive them of the apple of theirseveral eyes, I have generously consented to accompany them. But youneedn't pine for company," he added, with a mischievous glance at Lloyd."Alex Shelby expects to spend most of the summer with the old doctor,and he'll be a brother to you all, if you'll allow it."

  Lloyd made no answer, so he proceeded to make several more teasingremarks about Alex, not knowing what had taken place before. He evenventured to repeat the warning about her keeping within her ownbailiwick, as Bernice's friendship was not the kind that could standmuch strain.

  To his surprise Lloyd made no answer, but, setting her lips togetherangrily, rose and went into the house, her head high and her cheeksflushed.

  "Whew!" he exclaimed, with a soft whistle. "What hornet's nest have Istirred up now?"

  Joyce and Betty exchanged glances, each waiting for the other to makethe explanation. Then Joyce asked: "Didn't you see the way Bernicesnubbed her last night at the gate, when we left The Beeches?"

  "Nary a snub did I see. It must have happened when I was groping aroundin the path for something that I had flipped out of my pocket with myhandkerchief. It rang on the ground like a piece of money, and I fearedme I had lost one of me ducats. What did she do?"

  "I can't tell you now," said Joyce, hurriedly, lowering her voice. "Herecome Phil and Doctor Bradford."

  "No matter," he answered, airily. "I have no curiosity whatsoever. It'sa trait of character entirely lacking in my make-up." Then he motionedtoward Mary, who was sitting in a hammock, cutting the pages of a newmagazine. "Does _she_ know?"

  Joyce nodded, and feeling that they meant her, Mary looked upinquiringly. Rob beckoned to her ingratiatingly.

  "Come into the garden, Maud," he said in a low tone. "I would havespeech with thee."

  Laughing at his foolishness, but in a flutter of pleasure, Mary sprangup to follow him to the rustic seat midway down the avenue. As Joyce'sparting glance had not forbidden it, she was soon answering hisquestions to the best of her ability.

  "You see," he explained, "it's not out of curiosity that I ask all this.It's simply as a means of precaution. I can't keep myself out of hotwater unless I know how the land lies."

  That last day of the house-party seemed the shortest of all. Betty andMiles Bradford strolled over to Tanglewood and sat for more than an houron the shady stile leading into the churchyard. Lloyd and Phil went fora last horseback ride, and Mary, watching them canter off together downthe avenue, wondered curiously if he would have anything more to sayabout the bit of turquoise and all it stood for.

  As she followed Joyce up-stairs to help her pack her trunk, a littlewave of homesickness swept over her. Not that she wanted to go back tothe Wigwam, but to have Joyce go away without her was like parting withthe last anchor which held her to her family. It gave her a lonelyset-adrift feeling to be left behind. She took her sister's partinginjunctions and advice with a meekness that verged so nearly on tearsthat Joyce hastened to change the subject.

  "Think of all the things I'll have to tell you about when I get backfrom the seashore. Only two short months,--just eight little weeks,--butI'm going to crowd them so full of glorious hard work that I'llaccomplish wonders. There'll be no end of good times, too: clambakes andfishing and bathing to fill up the chinks in the days, and thestory-telling in the evenings around the driftwood fires. It will beover before we know it, and I'll be back here ready to take you homebefore you have time to really miss me."

  Cheered by Joyce's view of the subject, Mary turned her back a momenttill she had winked away the tears that had begun to gather, thenstraightway started out to make the most of the eight little weeks leftto her at The Locusts. When she went with the others to the station "togive the house-party on wheels a grand send-off," as Kitty expressed it,her bright little face was so happy that it brought a smiling responsefrom every departing guest.

  "Good-by, Miss Mary," Miles Bradford said, cordially, coming up to herin the waiting-room. "The Pilgrim Father has much to thank you for. Youhave helped him to store up some very pleasant memories of this happyValley."

  "Good-by, little Vicar," said Phil next, seizing both her hands. "Thinkof the Best Man whenever you look at the Philip on your shilling, andthink of his parting words. _Do_ profit by that dreadful dream, anddon't take any rash steps that would lead to another cat-fight. We'lltake care of your sister," he added, as Mary turned to Joyce and threwher arms around her neck for one last kiss.

  "Lieutenant Logan will watch out for her as far as he goes, and I'llkeep my eagle eye on her the rest of the way."

  "Who'll keep an eagle eye on you?" retorted Mary, following them out tothe platform.

  He made a laughing grimace over his shoulder, as he turned to help Joyceup the steps.

  "What a good time they are going to have together," thought Mary,watching the group as they stood on the rear platform of the last car,waving good-by. "And what a different parting this is from that otherone on the desert when he went away with such a sorry look in his eyes."He was facing the future eagerly this time, strong in hope and purpose,and she answered the last wave of his hat with a flap of herhandkerchief, which seemed to carry with it all the loyal good wishesthat shone in her beaming little face.

  Miles Bradford had made a hurried trip to the city that morning, toattend to a matter of business, going in on the ten o'clock trolley andcoming back in time for lunch. On his return, he laid a package inMary's lap, and handed one to each of the other girls. Joyce's was apile of new July magazines to read on the train. Lloyd's was a copy of"Abdallah, or the Four-leaved Shamrock," which had led to so muchdiscussion the morning of the wedding, when they hunted clovers for thedream-cake boxes.

  Mary's eyes grew round with surprise and delight when she opened herpackage and found inside the white paper and gilt cord a big box ofHuyler's candies. "With the compliments of the Pilgrim Father," waspencilled on the engraved card stuck under the string.

  There was layer after layer of chocolate creams and caramels,marshmallows and candied violets, burnt almonds and nougat, besides ascore of other things--specimens of the confectioner's art for which sheknew no name. She had seen the outside of such boxes in the show-casesin Phoenix, but never before had such a tempting display met her eyesas these delicious sweets in their trimmings of lace paper and tinfoiland ribbons, crowned by a pair of little gilt tongs, with which onemight make dainty choice.

  Betty's gift was not so sightly. It looked like an old dried sponge, forit was only a ball of matted roots. But she held it up with anexclamation of pleasure. "Oh, it is one of those fern-balls we weretalking about this morning! I've been wanting one all year. You see,"she explained to Mary, when she had finished thanking Doctor Bradford,"you hang it up in a window and keep it wet, and it turns into a perfectlittle hanging garden, so fine and green and feathery it's fit forfairy-land. It will grow as long as you remember to water it. GayMelville had one last year in her window at school, and I envied herevery time I saw it."

  "Now what does that make me think of?" said Mary, screwing up herforehead into a network of wrinkles and squinting her eyes half-shut inher effort to remember. "Oh, I know! It's something I read in a paper afew days ago. It's in China or Japan, I don't know which, but in one ofthose heathen countries. When a young man wants to find out if a girlreally likes him, he goes to her house early in the dawn, and leaves agrowing plant on the balcony for her. If she spurns him, she tears it upby the roots and throws it out in the street to wither, and I believebreaks the pot; but if she likes him, she takes it in and keeps itgreen, to show that he lives in her memory."

  A shout of laughter from Rob and Phil had made her turn to stare at themuneasily. "What are you laughing at?" she asked, innocently. "I _did_read it. I can show you the paper it is in, and I thought it was a rightbright way for a person to find out what he wanted to know withoutasking."

>   It was very evident that she hadn't the remotest idea she had saidanything personal, and her ignorance of the cause of their mirth madeher speech all the funnier. Doctor Bradford laughed, too, as he saidwith a formal bow: "I hope you will take the suggestion to heart, MissBetty, and let my memory and the fern-ball grow green together."

  Then, Mary, realizing what she had said when it was too late to unsayit, clapped her hands over her mouth and groaned. Apologies could onlymake the matter worse, so she tried to hide her confusion by passingaround the box of candy. It passed around so many times during thecourse of the afternoon that the box was almost empty by train-time.Mary returned to it with unabated interest after the guests were gone.It was the first box of candy she had ever owned, and she wondered ifshe would ever have another.

  "I believe I'll save it for a keepsake box," she thought, gathering itup in her arms to follow Betty up-stairs. Rob had come back with themfrom the station, and, taking the story of "Abdallah," he and Lloyd hadgone to the library to read it together.

  Betty was going to her room to put the fern-ball to soak, according todirections. Feeling just a trifle lonely since her parting from Joyce,Mary wandered off to the room that seemed to miss her, too, now thatall her personal belongings had disappeared from wardrobe anddressing-table. But she was soon absorbed in arranging her keepsake box.Emptying the few remaining scraps of candy into a paper bag, shesmoothed out the lace paper, the ribbons, and the tinfoil to save toshow to Hazel Lee. These she put in her trunk, but the gilt tongs seemedworthy of a place in the box. The Pilgrim Father's card was dropped inbeside it, then the heart-shaped dream-cake box, holding one of thewhite icing roses that had ornamented the bride's cake. Last and mostprecious was the silver shilling, which she polished carefully with herchamois-skin pen-wiper before putting away.

  "I don't need to look at _you_ to make me think of the Best Man," shesaid to the Philip on the coin. "There's more things than you thatremind me of him. I certainly would like to know what sort of a fate youare going to bring me. There's about as much chance of my being anheiress as there is of that nightmare coming true."