by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER XXV
THE SUMMER'S END
One afternoon in late September, Martine sat under the trees in hermother's corner of the Red Knoll garden. A number of letters lay beforeher on a little round table, and beside her, swinging lazily in ahammock, was Priscilla, the practical, who had often been heard to saythat she despised hammocks.
After a moment Priscilla, bringing herself to a full stop, leanedforward and gazed intently at Martine.
"I cannot see," she said at length, "that you look so _very_ thin."
"Why should I be _very_ thin?"
"Well, from what I heard I thought you must be. They said you weren'teating, and you are thinner than you were in the spring. I am sure youreyes look larger."
"Probably my eyes have grown; I am sure my waistbands have."
There was a twinkle in Martine's brown eyes, as she pushed back a wavylock of hair.
"You are just a little paler, too," persisted Priscilla, "but except forthat, no one would believe that you had been so ill."
"I don't believe it myself," replied Martine, "though I am perfectlywilling to take the word of those who say they know. To tell you thetruth, I am rather ashamed to hear that I barely escaped nervousprostration, just because I tried to stop a horse from running away."
"But you _did_ stop him."
"Then he wasn't running away. It was only that Carlotta had let go thereins."
"Well, they all say that if you hadn't seized the bridle, he would havegone straight down the little embankment."
"Nonsense--at any rate I spoilt the effect of it all by fainting, andyet I shouldn't have fainted if I hadn't been following your example.The horse had nothing to do with it."
"Oh, Martine!"
"Yes, my dear Prissie. I had been following your old example ofborrowing trouble, and I had been keeping my tribulations to myself,until I just couldn't bear them. You see it was this way. I was surethat father wouldn't get well, and that the shock of his death wouldkill mother, and Lucian would have to leave college, and I would have tostart out at once to earn my living. Then little things were botheringme too, like Carlotta's being mean, and Angelina's leaving us with noone to help, and I was tired of being economical, so the horse was justthe last straw."
Though Martine's explanation was not very lucid, Priscilla certainlyunderstood her.
"I believe Clare was disappointed," she continued, "that I hadn't atleast one bone broken. She wanted to make a heroine of me, and she isn'tat all pleased when I tell her I wasn't in danger."
"Well, if you were not, Carlotta was. She is very grateful."
"I know, I know," said Martine, hastily. "But when you are not very fondof people, it is rather disagreeable to have them grateful, especiallyfor nothing at all. I was really sorry that the person in the carriagewas Carlotta. I suppose this sounds very hateful, for she has written mea fine letter--says she is sorry she couldn't see me before she went tothe mountains, but still--"
"But still," echoed Priscilla.
"Oh, nothing, except that I like Mrs. Brownville's letter so muchbetter. She says that I have been a great help to Herbert thissummer--keeping him away from a set of young men the family didn't carefor, and giving him ideals. I shouldn't expect Mrs. Brownville to knowan ideal when she saw it. However, I dare say she's right, only it wasunconscious goodness on my part. I didn't know Herbert had to be keptaway from any set of foolish companions. I simply found him goodcompany, and I am so used to giving advice to Lucian and Robert that Inaturally favored Herbert in the same way. Then he was tremendously goodin reading Latin with me. Except for this accident I should have beenahead of you, Prissie dear."
"I should like to have seen Herbert Brownville."
"Yes, it's a pity he had to go back to college before you came. Butyou'll see him in Boston some time."
"When do you expect your father?" asked Priscilla.
"Oh, in a week--just think of it--in a week, and he is almost well, andalthough he has lost money, things are not going to be so verydreadful,--not at all as I feared. I looked too far ahead."
"Yes," said Priscilla, mischievously, "jumping at conclusions is almostas bad as borrowing trouble. They mean much the same thing."
"I am not so sure. I cannot imagine a slow, deliberate person like youjumping at conclusions, though I have known you to borrow trouble."
"Sometimes I am very hasty," responded Priscilla, slowly, as ifreflecting on something. "There is one thing I ought to tell you. Do youremember your prize essay last spring?"
"Oh, yes, but I didn't set out to get a prize."
"I know. If you had, I suppose you would have written it all alone."
"What do you mean? I did write it alone."
Then remembering Lucian's help, Martine flushed to the roots of herhair.
"I did not mean to offend you," continued Priscilla, "for even if Lucianhelped you a little, this was all right; I was only thinking how unfairI had been. I accidentally saw some notes for your essay in Lucian'shandwriting, and for a little while I felt that you had acted unfairly.Do you remember one week last spring, when I was stiff and disagreeableand wouldn't go anywhere with you?"
"_One_ week!" exclaimed Martine, roguishly.
"Oh, I dare say there were others. Only I remember the why of thatparticular week."
"But it's so long ago," cried Martine, "Let's not remember it now."
"It's only fair that you should know that I sometimes jump toconclusions."
"As long as you are ready to jump away from them again, there's no greatharm done."
"That's what I wanted to say. I realized after all that there was norule in school against getting help in an essay, and that you didn'tknow a prize was to be given when you wrote yours. But I always thoughtyou ought to know how unfair I had been."
"Then we are friends again," said Martine, laughing, "though I didn'tknow we had ever been anything else." Secretly, she thought Priscillahad made a great ado about nothing. "It's the Puritan way, I suppose,"she said to herself. Then aloud,--
"As I have forgiven you, we may call it square about those Christmasphotographs. Thus far I have always been able to prevent your paying mefor them. But to-day, when I found your note with this money on mybureau--really, Priscilla, I was almost offended. So here, child," andshe held out an envelope, "if you will take back this money, I willforgive you for your unfair thoughts."
Under the circumstances Priscilla could not refuse Martine, and thusboth girls were satisfied.
"There's one thing," said Martine, to change the subject, "I have hadsome lovely letters lately. Just think of little Esther's writing me.Nora must have told her where I was. She hopes I will be able to go onwith the Mansion Class next year--but dear me, Priscilla, she has gotfar beyond me; only look at this pen and ink," and she displayed thelast page of the letter, in which Esther had drawn a picture thatPriscilla at once recognized as Martine herself. "Then Alexander Babethas written me about Yvonne, that she is much stronger, and so happywith her music lessons,--and would you believe it, they still have someof that hundred dollars left. It's wonderful how far some people canmake a little money go."
Here Martine sighed, recalling the time when she would not have thoughta hundred dollars too much to spend in gratifying a single small wish.
"Do you know," she continued, "it may be that I can really do somethingfor Yvonne next year. If papa can't spare the money, why I can give upsomething of my own--riding lessons, for example,--and spend what itwould cost for Yvonne. This year I have been so frightfully useless; itseems as if I hadn't done anything for anybody."
"How foolish you are," exclaimed Priscilla. "If there were nothing else,you certainly have helped Yvonne and Esther, and just think what Mrs.Brownville writes about Herbert, and your mother says you have been awonderful housekeeper, and that you have taken so much care off hershoulders, and Angelina--"
"Well, Angelina is rather absurd," interposed Martine; "I was justcoming to myself that evening after--what shall I call it--
the Carlottaincident, when Angelina rushed into the room, and almost threw herselfon my neck. She seemed to think that something awful had happened to mebecause she had undertaken to leave us, and that my salvation dependedon her. She said she had had queer feelings all day, and that she justfelt drawn back to Red Knoll, which she never, never, would desertagain. Really it was just as well that she came back, for althoughmother was able to get an extra helper, Angelina knew exactly wherethings were. Of course she was tremendously proud of what she hadaccomplished in her trip to Portsmouth, for she made the house-breakeradmit that he was Miguel Silva, and though she can't recover her money,she has a kind of wicked satisfaction in knowing that he will bepunished for his other misdeeds."
"She doesn't seem to be quite as Spanish as she was last winter. Atleast she doesn't say as much about it."
"No, she gives me the credit for that. She says that I have shown herthat it is wrong to pretend anything. However, on that same Portsmouthtrip, she went down the harbor to look at the island where Cervera's menwere prisoners, and now she likes to speak of the Spaniards in apatronizing tone as people to be spoken of as inferiors rather thankinsmen."
"It's astonishing," mused Priscilla, "how many friends you make!"
"Why should it be astonishing? Why shouldn't I make friends?"
"I only meant it was astonishing in comparison with me. No one everattaches importance to me. In the past year I have hardly made a newfriend--while you--"
"You have made a friend of me for one thing, and Lucian thinks you areexactly right, and my mother considers you a perfect model. Oh, yes, andthere's Eunice."
Priscilla, in spite of herself, smiled at Martine's droll tone.
"But think of all the people you have to your credit. Mr. Stacy says henever saw a young girl talk so intelligently about Plymouth, and thechildren are always asking me when you will come again, and in hersecret heart I believe Aunt Tilworth prefers you to me,--and mymother--"
"What nonsense, Priscilla! It's only because people think me so veryempty-headed when they first meet me, that they are surprised later tofind that there's anything to me, just as I am surprised some times todiscover these quiet dignified girls, like Elinor, and Clare, are reallyvery good fun when you come to know them better."
"Then," continued Priscilla, "there are Balfour and Mr. Gamut. If youhadn't been considerate of Balfour's feelings, and invited him to yourhouse, he wouldn't have met Mr. Gamut, and Eunice says he has made him asplendid offer, and he will take it as soon as he's through college."
"Oh, well, things may have happened that way; but you know yourself thatI haven't any particular talent for anything, and I never go out of myway to help people."
"You help them just by being bright and pleasant and making them thinkthe best of themselves."
"Perhaps; but as to Balfour, I am glad that he's to be helped by Mr.Gamut, and not by Mr. Blair, or even papa, as I once hoped. For, as itis, he's much more independent, without feeling that anything has beendone for him, because he's a connection of ours, even though thecousinship is rather far away. It was so funny, though, to see Mr. Gamutthe evening Carlotta's horse tried to run. He appeared on the scene justas I fainted, and later, when I came to, he was hopping about, anxiousto do something, but not knowing what to do. Faint as I was, I almostlaughed at him. But that would have been mean, for he had come almostexpressly to bring me news that he had just heard about papa's affairs.He said he knew I had been worrying, and he wanted to be the first totell me. Naturally, he was surprised to find me lying on my back in themiddle of the road. But come, we mustn't waste all the morning here,"and seizing Priscilla by the arm, Martine fairly dragged her from thehammock.
"I feel so energetic now," she cried, "that we must do somethingexciting--take a long walk to work off my energy--if we could gather aparty, I believe I could climb Agamenticus. What would you say to that,Prissie?"
The diminutive no longer annoyed Priscilla. She had learned tounderstand Martine.
"It isn't necessary for me to say anything. Your mother will tell youwhat she thinks about your climbing Agamenticus."
"I suppose it is too far. You always do know better than I. I believethat next year I shall have to be known as Priscilla's, instead ofBrenda's ward"--and with her hand in Priscilla's, Martine went into thehouse.
THE END
HELEN LEAH REED'S "BRENDA" BOOKS
BRENDA, HER SCHOOL AND HER CLUB
Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith.
_The Boston Herald_ says: "Miss Reed's girls have all the impulses andlikes of real girls as their characters are developing, and her recordof their thoughts and actions reads like a chapter snatched from thepage of life. It is bright, genial, merry, wholesome, and full of goodcharacterizations."
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Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith.
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