Marjorie's New Friend

by Carolyn Wells

  CHAPTER VIII

  A VISIT TO CINDERELLA

  One afternoon Marjorie sat by the fire reading. She was not speciallyinterested in her book, but Kitty had gone to see Dorothy Adams, and Kingwas off somewhere, so she had no one to play with.

  Presently Sarah entered.

  "There's somebody wants you on the telephone, Miss Marjorie," she said,and Midget jumped up, wondering who it could be.

  "Hello," she said, as she took the receiver.

  "Hello," said a pleasant voice; "is this Marjorie Maynard?"

  "Yes; who is this?"

  "This is Cinderella."

  "Who!"

  "Cinderella. My two stepsisters have gone to a ball, and my cruelstepmother has beaten me and starved me--"

  "What are you talking about? Who is this, please?"

  "Me. I'm Cinderella. And I'm so lonely and sad I thought perhaps you'dcome over to see me."

  A light began to dawn on Marjorie.

  "Oh," she continued, "where do you live?"

  "Across the street from your house."

  "Then you're Delight Spencer."

  "Yes, I am. Can't you come over and let's get acquainted?"

  "Yes, I will. I'd like to. Shall I come now?"

  "Yes, right away. Good-bye."

  "Good-bye."

  Marjorie hung up the receiver and after a hasty brush at her curls, and afew pinches at her hair ribbons, she flung on hat and coat and flewacross the street.

  If only this new girl should be a desirable chum!

  That opening about Cinderella sounded hopeful,--she must know how toplay.

  Well, at any rate, Midget would soon know now.

  She rang the bell at Gladys's house, with a queer feeling, and as shewent in, and saw the familiar rooms and furniture, and no Gladys, shealmost started to run away again--

  "Miss Delight wants you to come right up to her room, Miss," said themaid who admitted her, and Marjorie followed her upstairs, glad to findthat at least the new girl didn't have Gladys's room for her own. Themaid indicated the room, and stood aside for Marjorie to enter, but atthe first glance Midget stood still on the threshold.

  In the first place the room was transformed. It had been the Fultons'playroom, and furnished rather plainly; but now it was so full of allsorts of things, that it looked like a bazaar.

  In a big armchair sat Delight. She had on a Japanese quilted kimona oflight blue silk, and little blue Turkish slippers. Her hair was puregolden, and was just a tangle of fluffy curls topped by a huge blue bow.

  But her face, Marjorie thought at once, was the most beautiful face shehad ever seen. Big blue eyes, a soft pink and white complexion, and redlips smiling over little white teeth, made Delight look like the pictureson Marjorie's fairy calendar.

  And yet, as Midget stood for a moment, looking at her, the pink fadedfrom her cheeks, and she rose from her chair, and said, stiffly:

  "Sit down, won't you? I'm glad you came."

  Marjorie sat down, on the edge of a couch, and Delight sank back in herbig chair.

  She was so evidently overcome with a spasm of shyness that Midget wassorry for her, but somehow it made her feel shy, herself, and the twolittle girls sat there, looking at each other, without saying a word.

  At last, overcoming her embarrassment, Marjorie said, "Was it you whotelephoned?" A sudden wave of red flooded Delight's pale cheeks, and sheanswered:

  "Yes, it was. I have a cold, and can't go out of my room,--and mother isout,--and--and I was awfully lonesome, so I played I was Cinderella. Andthen I just happened to think I'd telephone you--just for fun--"

  "Have you a stepmother? Is she cruel to you?"

  "Mercy, no! Mother is the dearest thing in the world, and she adoresme,--spoils me, in fact. She's gone out now to get me some things to makevalentines with. But I wish she was here. I thought it would be fun tosee,--to see you alone,--but you're so different from what I thought youwere."

  "Different, how?" said Midget, forgetting her own shyness in her interestin this strange girl.

  "Why, you're so--so big, and rosy,--and your eyes snap so."

  "You're afraid of me!" exclaimed Midget, laughing merrily.

  "I'm not when you laugh like that!" returned Delight, who was beginningto feel more at ease.

  "Well, I was afraid of you, too, at first. You looked so--so, breakable,you know."

  "Delicate?"

  "Yes, fragile. Like those pretty spun sugar things."

  "I am delicate. At least, mother says I am. I hate to romp or run, andI'm afraid of people who do those things."

  "Well, I'm not afraid of anybody who can play she's Cinderella over atelephone! I love to run and play out-of-doors, but I love to play'pretend games' too."

  "So do I. But I have to play them all by myself. Except sometimes motherplays with me."

  "You can play with us. We all play pretend games. Kitty's best atit,--she's my sister. And King--Kingdon, my brother, is grand."

  "Take off your things, won't you? I ought to have asked you before. Ihaven't any sense."

  Marjorie jumped up and threw off her hat and coat, tossed them on thecouch, and then plumped herself into another big chair near Delight's.

  The children were indeed a contrast.

  Marjorie, large for her age, full of hearty, healthy life, andirrepressible gayety of spirit, bounced around like a big, good-naturedrubber ball. Delight, small, slender, and not very strong, moved alwaysgently and timidly.

  Marjorie, too, was dark-haired, dark-eyed, and rosy-cheeked; whileDelight was of lovely blonde type, and her pale blue robe suited her, asMidget's crimson cashmere set off her own vivid coloring.

  The ice fairly broken, the little girls forgot their shyness, andacquaintance progressed rapidly.

  "Have you always lived in New York?" asked Midget.

  "Yes; but I'm so delicate mother thinks this place will be better for me.Do you like it here?"

  "Why, yes. But I've always lived here, you know. Are you going toschool?"

  "No; I never go to school. It makes me nervous. I always have a governessat home."

  "Oh, how lovely! I'd give anything if I could study that way. Isn't itfun?"

  "Oh, no; it's so lonely. I'd ever so much rather go to school and be in aclass. But I always faint in a schoolroom."

  "I don't faint,--I don't know how. I wish I did, I'd try it, and thenMiss Lawrence would have to send me home. Where are you in arithmetic?"

  "Partial Payments; but I'm reviewing. Where are you?"

  "Cube root, and I hate it."

  "So do I. How do you like my room?"

  "It's splendid. But I can't take it all in at once."

  Marjorie jumped up and walked round the room, stopping to look at theaquarium, the blackboard, the gramophone, and many other modes ofentertainment which had been collected to give Delight pleasure.

  "Yes, I love my things. I have so many, and father is always bringing menew ones. That's to make up for my being an only child. I often begmother to adopt a sister for me."

  "I'll be your sister," said Midget, in a sudden heartfelt burst ofsympathy for the lonely little girl.

  "Oh, will you?" she said, wistfully; "and come and live with me?"

  "No, not that," laughed Marjorie; "but we'll play we're sisters, and youcan call my brother and sisters yours too."

  "I'm glad I came to Rockwell," said Delight, with happy eyes; "I thinkyou're splendid."

  "And I think you're lovely. I hope we'll get along. Do you squabble?"

  "I don't think so," replied Delight, doubtfully; "you see, I never had achance."

  "I don't believe you do. I hate it, myself; but lots of the girls thinkit's fun to get mad at each other, and stay mad a few weeks and then makeup."

  "How silly! You're not like that, are you?"

  "No, I'm not. I had a friend who used to live in this very house, and wenever have been mad at each other in our lives. That's why I didn't sayI'd be your friend. It seems sort of--kind of--"

&
nbsp; "Yes, I see," said Delight, gently. "You're awfully loyal, aren't you?Well, I'd rather be your sister, anyway,--your play-sister."

  "I'll be your step-sister," said Midget, remembering Cinderella. "Not thecross kind."

  "No, the pleasant kind. All right, we'll be step-sisters, and will youcome to see me often?"

  "Yes, and you must come over to my house."

  "I will, when mother'll let me. She hates to have me go anywhere."

  "Do you know," said Midget, in a spirit of contrition, "I thought youwere 'stuck-up.'"

  Delight sighed a little. "Everybody thinks that," she said, "just becauseI don't go to school, and so I don't get acquainted much. But I'm notstuck-up."

  "Indeed you're not, and I shall tell all the girls so. But after yourcold gets well, you can go out doors to play, can't you?"

  "I don't know. Mother never lets me go out much, except with her. Oh,here comes mother now!"

  Mrs. Spencer came into the room and smiled pleasantly at Midget.

  Delight introduced them, and Marjorie rose and curtseyed, then Mrs.Spencer said:

  "I'm glad you came, my dear child. I meant to ask you soon, as I want youand Delight to be great friends."

  Mrs. Spencer was an attractive-looking lady and spoke cordially, butsomehow Marjorie didn't fancy her.

  There was no tangible reason, for she was charming and gracious, butMidget felt she was a nervous, fussy woman, and not calm and capable likeher own dear mother.

  "My mother is coming to call on you," said Marjorie to her hostess. "Iheard her say so. She doesn't know I'm here, for she wasn't at home whenI came, but I know she'll be pleased when I tell her."

  "Did you come away without mother's permission? Naughty! Naughty!" saidMrs. Spencer, playfully shaking her finger at Marjorie.

  Midget's eyes opened wide. "Of course, I shouldn't have come," she said,"if I hadn't known she would be willing." She resented Mrs. Spencer'sreproof, as that lady knew nothing of the circumstances, and besides,Marjorie was always allowed to do as she chose afternoons, within certainwell-understood restrictions.

  But Mrs. Spencer had brought several interesting-looking parcels, and allelse was forgotten in the examination of their contents.

  They proved to contain gold and silver paper, lace paper, small pictures,crepe paper, cards, ribbons, paste, and lots of other things.

  Marjorie's eyes sparkled as she saw the lovely things tumbled out on alow table which Mrs. Spencer drew up in front of the girls. "Forvalentines?" she exclaimed, as she realized the possibilities.

  "Yes; will you help Delight to make them?"

  "Indeed, I will, Mrs. Spencer; but not now. It's five o'clock, and I haveto go home at five."

  "Dear, dear, little girls that run away without mother's permissionoughtn't to be so particular about going home on time."

  Marjorie was puzzled. Mrs. Spencer didn't see the matter rightly, she wassure, and yet to explain it to her seemed like correcting a grown-uplady, which, of course, was impolite. So she only smiled, and said shemust go home, but she would be glad to come again.

  To her surprise, Delight began to cry,--not noisily,--but with quiet,steady weeping, that seemed to imply a determination to keep it up.

  Marjorie looked her amazement, which was not lessened when Mrs. Spencersaid, almost coldly:

  "I should think she would cry, poor, dear sick child, when her littlefriend refuses to stay with her."

  "But, Mrs. Spencer," said Midget, really distressed, now, "it is our rulealways to go home at five o'clock, unless mother has said we could staylater. So I have to go."

  "Very well, then, go on," said Mrs. Spencer, a little pettishly; but shehelped Marjorie on with her coat, and patted her on the shoulder.

  "You're a good little girl," she said, "and I suppose I'm selfish whereDelight is concerned. Will you come again to-morrow morning?"

  "Oh, no, thank you; I have to go to school."

  "Yes, I suppose you do. Well, come to-morrow afternoon."

  "Yes, do," said Delight, staying her tears, as they seemed to do no good.

  "I'll see about it," said Midget, a little bewildered by these emotionalpeople. "I'd like to come."

  She said her good-byes, and flew across the street to her own home.

  She flung to the front door behind her, with what was _almost_ a bang,and then throwing her coat and hat on the hall rack, she burst into theliving-room, where Mrs. Maynard was sitting with Rosy Posy in her lap.

  "Marjorie," her mother said, as she observed the impulsive child, "youare just a shade too noisy. Will you kindly go back to the hall, and tryto enter this room in a manner more becoming to a lady and a Maynard?"

  "I will, indeed, Mother. And you're quite right; I was awful racketty."

  Marjorie returned to the hall, and then came in with graceful, mincingsteps, purposely overdoing the scene. She paused in front of her motherdropped an elaborate curtsey, and holding out her hand daintily, said:

  "Good-evening, Mrs. Maynard; are you at home?"

  "I am, you silly child," said her mother, kissing her affectionately,"and overdone manners are much better than no manners at all."

  "Yes'm; and what do you think, Mother? I've been over to see DelightSpencer."

  "You have? Why, I meant to take you when I go to call. How did you happento go?"

  So Marjorie told the story of the telephoning, adding: "And you know,Mother, you always used to let me go to Gladys's without asking you, so Iwent. Wasn't it all right?"

  Marjorie looked so disturbed that Mrs. Maynard smiled, and said:

  "Why, I suppose there's no harm done,--since the little girl asked you tocome--"

  Marjorie looked greatly relieved. "Well," she said, "Mrs. Spencer thoughtit was awful for me to go without asking you,--and then,--she wanted meto stay after five o'clock, and was madder 'n hops 'cause I didn't!"

  "What a remarkable lady! But I can judge better if you tell me the wholestory."

  So Marjorie told all about the afternoon, and Mrs. Maynard was greatlyinterested.

  "Not exactly stuck-up, is she, Midget?" said King, who had come in duringthe recital.

  "No," owned up Marjorie. "I was mistaken about that; and I think I'd likeher a lot, if she wasn't the crying kind. I do hate cry babies."

  "Ho! You wept oceans when Glad went away."

  "Yes," retorted Marjorie, unabashed, "but that's very different. I don'tburst into weeps just because a next-door neighbor is going home!"

  "'Deed you don't, old girl! You're a brick, and I was a meany to say whatI did. But perhaps Delight doesn't cry so much when she's well."

  "She's never well. I mean she's delicate and frail and always havingcolds and things."

  "Pooh, a nice sort of girl for you to play with! You're as hardy as anIndian."

  "I know it. We all are."

  "She probably stays in the house too much," said Mrs. Maynard. "If youchildren can persuade her to go out of doors and romp with you, she'llsoon get stronger."

  "She says she hates to romp," observed Marjorie.

  "Then I give her up!" cried King. "No stay-in-the-house girls for me.Say, what do you think, Mops! A straw-ride to-morrow afternoon! Mr. Adamsis going to take a big sleigh-load of us! Isn't that gay!"

  "Fine!" cried Marjorie, the delicate Delight quite forgotten for themoment, "tell me all about it!"