Chương Chương 22 · CLOVER BLOSSOMS AND SUNFLOWERS

. CLOVER BLOSSOMS AND SUNFLOWERS

CLOVER BLOSSOMS AND SUNFLOWERS

"How d' ye do, girls?" said Huldah Meserve, peeping in at the door.

"Can you stop studying a minute and show me your room? Say, I've just

been down to the store and bought me these gloves, for I was bound I

wouldn't wear mittens this winter; they're simply too countrified. It's

your first year here, and you're younger than I am, so I s'pose you

don't mind, but I simply suffer if I don't keep up some kind of style.

Say, your room is simply too cute for words! I don't believe any of the

others can begin to compare with it! I don't know what gives it that

simply gorgeous look, whether it's the full curtains, or that elegant

screen, or Rebecca's lamp; but you certainly do have a faculty for

fixing up. I like a pretty room too, but I never have a minute to

attend to mine; I'm always so busy on my clothes that half the time I

don't get my bed made up till noon; and after all, having no callers

but the girls, it don't make much difference. When I graduate, I'm

going to fix up our parlor at home so it'll be simply regal. I've

learned decalcomania, and after I take up lustre painting I shall have

it simply stiff with drapes and tidies and placques and sofa pillows,

and make mother let me have a fire, and receive my friends there

evenings. May I dry my feet at your register? I can't bear to wear

rubbers unless the mud or the slush is simply knee-deep, they make your

feet look so awfully big. I had such a fuss getting this pair of

French-heeled boots that I don't intend to spoil the looks of them with

rubbers any oftener than I can help. I believe boys notice feet quicker

than anything. Elmer Webster stepped on one of mine yesterday when I

accidentally had it out in the aisle, and when he apologized after

class, he said he wasn't so much to blame, for the foot was so little

he really couldn't see it! Isn't he perfectly great? Of course that's

only his way of talking, for after all I only wear a number two, but

these French heels and pointed toes do certainly make your foot look

smaller, and it's always said a high instep helps, too. I used to think

mine was almost a deformity, but they say it's a great beauty. Just put

your feet beside mine, girls, and look at the difference; not that I

care much, but just for fun."

"My feet are very comfortable where they are," responded Rebecca dryly.

"I can't stop to measure insteps on algebra days; I've noticed your

habit of keeping a foot in the aisle ever since you had those new

shoes, so I don't wonder it was stepped on."

"Perhaps I am a little mite conscious of them, because they're not so

very comfortable at first, till you get them broken in. Say, haven't

you got a lot of new things?"

"Our Christmas presents, you mean," said Emma Jane. "The pillow-cases

are from Mrs. Cobb, the rug from cousin Mary in North Riverboro, the

scrap-basket from Living and Dick. We gave each other the bureau and

cushion covers, and the screen is mine from Mr. Ladd."

"Well, you were lucky when you met him! Gracious! I wish I could meet

somebody like that. The way he keeps it up, too! It just hides your

bed, doesn't it, and I always say that a bed takes the style off any

room--specially when it's not made up; though you have an alcove, and

it's the only one in the whole building. I don't see how you managed to

get this good room when you're such new scholars," she finished

discontentedly.

"We shouldn't have, except that Ruth Berry had to go away suddenly on

account of her father's death. This room was empty, and Miss Maxwell

asked if we might have it," returned Emma Jane.

"The great and only Max is more stiff and standoffish than ever this

year," said Huldah. "I've simply given up trying to please her, for

there's no justice in her; she is good to her favorites, but she

doesn't pay the least attention to anybody else, except to make

sarcastic speeches about things that are none of her business. I wanted

to tell her yesterday it was her place to teach me Latin, not manners."

"I wish you wouldn't talk against Miss Maxwell to me," said Rebecca

hotly. "You know how I feel."

"I know; but I can't understand how you can abide her."

"I not only abide, I love her!" exclaimed Rebecca. "I wouldn't let the

sun shine too hot on her, or the wind blow too cold. I'd like to put a

marble platform in her class-room and have her sit in a velvet chair

behind a golden table!"

"Well, don't have a fit!--because she can sit where she likes for all

of me; I've got something better to think of," and Huldah tossed her

head.

"Isn't this your study hour?" asked Emma Jane, to stop possible

discussion.

"Yes, but I lost my Latin grammar yesterday; I left it in the hall half

an hour while I was having a regular scene with Herbert Dunn. I haven't

spoken to him for a week and gave him back his class pin. He was simply

furious. Then when I came back to the hall, the book was gone. I had to

go down town for my gloves and to the principal's office to see if the

grammar had been handed in, and that's the reason I'm so fine."

Huldah was wearing a woolen dress that had once been gray, but had been

dyed a brilliant blue. She had added three rows of white braid and

large white pearl buttons to her gray jacket, in order to make it a

little more "dressy." Her gray felt hat had a white feather on it, and

a white tissue veil with large black dots made her delicate skin look

brilliant. Rebecca thought how lovely the knot of red hair looked under

the hat behind, and how the color of the front had been dulled by

incessant frizzing with curling irons. Her open jacket disclosed a

galaxy of souvenirs pinned to the background of bright blue,--a small

American flag, a button of the Wareham Rowing Club, and one or two

society pins. These decorations proved her popularity in very much the

same way as do the cotillion favors hanging on the bedroom walls of the

fashionable belle. She had been pinning and unpinning, arranging and

disarranging her veil ever since she entered the room, in the hope that

the girls would ask her whose ring she was wearing this week; but

although both had noticed the new ornament instantly, wild horses could

not have drawn the question from them; her desire to be asked was too

obvious. With her gay plumage, her "nods and becks and wreathed

smiles," and her cheerful cackle, Huldah closely resembled the parrot

in Wordsworth's poem:--

"Arch, volatile, a sportive bird,

By social glee inspired;

Ambitious to be seen or heard,

And pleased to be admired!"

"Mr. Morrison thinks the grammar will be returned, and lent me

another," Huldah continued.

"He was rather snippy about my leaving a book in the hall. There was a

perfectly elegant gentleman in the office, a stranger to me. I wish he

was a new teacher, but there's no such luck. He was too young to be the

father of any of the girls, and too old to be a brother, but he was

handsome as a picture and had on an awful stylish suit of clothes. He

looked at me about every minute I was in the room. It made me so

embarrassed I couldn't hardly answer Mr. Morrison's questions straight."

"You'll have to wear a mask pretty soon, if you're going to have any

comfort, Huldah," said Rebecca. "Did he offer to lend you his class

pin, or has it been so long since he graduated that he's left off

wearing it? And tell us now whether the principal asked for a lock of

your hair to put in his watch?"

This was all said merrily and laughingly, but there were times when

Huldah could scarcely make up her mind whether Rebecca was trying to be

witty, or whether she was jealous; but she generally decided it was

merely the latter feeling, rather natural in a girl who had little

attention.

"He wore no jewelry but a cameo scarf pin and a perfectly gorgeous

ring,--a queer kind of one that wound round and round his finger. Oh

dear, I must run! Where has the hour gone? There's the study bell!"

Rebecca had pricked up her ears at Huldah's speech. She remembered a

certain strange ring, and it belonged to the only person in the world

(save Miss Maxwell) who appealed to her imagination,--Mr. Aladdin. Her

feeling for him, and that of Emma Jane, was a mixture of romantic and

reverent admiration for the man himself and the liveliest gratitude for

his beautiful gifts. Since they first met him not a Christmas had gone

by without some remembrance for them both; remembrances chosen with the

rarest taste and forethought. Emma Jane had seen him only twice, but he

had called several times at the brick house, and Rebecca had learned to

know him better. It was she, too, who always wrote the notes of

acknowledgment and thanks, taking infinite pains to make Emma Jane's

quite different from her own. Sometimes he had written from Boston and

asked her the news of Riverboro, and she had sent him pages of quaint

and childlike gossip, interspersed, on two occasions, with poetry,

which he read and reread with infinite relish. If Huldah's stranger

should be Mr. Aladdin, would he come to see her, and could she and Emma

Jane show him their beautiful room with so many of his gifts in

evidence?

When the girls had established themselves in Wareham as real boarding

pupils, it seemed to them existence was as full of joy as it well could

hold. This first winter was, in fact, the most tranquilly happy of

Rebecca's school life,--a winter long to be looked back upon. She and

Emma Jane were room-mates, and had put their modest possessions

together to make their surroundings pretty and homelike. The room had,

to begin with, a cheerful red ingrain carpet and a set of maple

furniture. As to the rest, Rebecca had furnished the ideas and Emma

Jane the materials and labor, a method of dividing responsibilities

that seemed to suit the circumstances admirably. Mrs. Perkins's father

had been a storekeeper, and on his death had left the goods of which he

was possessed to his married daughter. The molasses, vinegar, and

kerosene had lasted the family for five years, and the Perkins attic

was still a treasure-house of ginghams, cottons, and "Yankee notions."

So at Rebecca's instigation Mrs. Perkins had made full curtains and

lambrequins of unbleached muslin, which she had trimmed and looped back

with bands of Turkey red cotton. There were two table covers to match,

and each of the girls had her study corner. Rebecca, after much

coaxing, had been allowed to bring over her precious lamp, which would

have given a luxurious air to any apartment, and when Mr. Aladdin's

last Christmas presents were added,--the Japanese screen for Emma Jane

and the little shelf of English Poets for Rebecca,--they declared that

it was all quite as much fun as being married and going to housekeeping.

The day of Huldah's call was Friday, and on Fridays from three to half

past four Rebecca was free to take a pleasure to which she looked

forward the entire week. She always ran down the snowy path through the

pine woods at the back of the seminary, and coming out on a quiet

village street, went directly to the large white house where Miss

Maxwell lived. The maid-of-all-work answered her knock; she took off

her hat and cape and hung them in the hall, put her rubber shoes and

umbrella carefully in the corner, and then opened the door of paradise.

Miss Maxwell's sitting-room was lined on two sides with bookshelves,

and Rebecca was allowed to sit before the fire and browse among the

books to her heart's delight for an hour or more. Then Miss Maxwell

would come back from her class, and there would be a precious half hour

of chat before Rebecca had to meet Emma Jane at the station and take

the train for Riverboro, where her Saturdays and Sundays were spent,

and where she was washed, ironed, mended, and examined, approved and

reproved, warned and advised in quite sufficient quantity to last her

the succeeding week.

On this Friday she buried her face in the blooming geraniums on Miss

Maxwell's plant-stand, selected Romola from one of the bookcases, and

sank into a seat by the window with a sigh of infinite content, She

glanced at the clock now and then, remembering the day on which she had

been so immersed in David Copperfield that the Riverboro train had no

place in her mind. The distracted Emma Jane had refused to leave

without her, and had run from the station to look for her at Miss

Maxwell's. There was but one later train, and that went only to a place

three miles the other side of Riverboro, so that the two girls appeared

at their respective homes long after dark, having had a weary walk in

the snow.

When she had read for half an hour she glanced out of the window and

saw two figures issuing from the path through the woods. The knot of

bright hair and the coquettish hat could belong to but one person; and

her companion, as the couple approached, proved to be none other than

Mr. Aladdin. Huldah was lifting her skirts daintily and picking safe

stepping-places for the high-heeled shoes, her cheeks glowing, her eyes

sparkling under the black and white veil.

Rebecca slipped from her post by the window to the rug before the

bright fire and leaned her head on the seat of the great easy-chair.

She was frightened at the storm in her heart; at the suddenness with

which it had come on, as well as at the strangeness of an entirely new

sensation. She felt all at once as if she could not bear to give up her

share of Mr. Aladdin's friendship to Huldah: Huldah so bright, saucy,

and pretty; so gay and ready, and such good company! She had always

joyfully admitted Emma Jane into the precious partnership, but perhaps

unconsciously to herself she had realized that Emma Jane had never held

anything but a secondary place in Mr. Aladdin's regard; yet who was she

herself, after all, that she could hope to be first?

Suddenly the door opened softly and somebody looked in, somebody who

said: "Miss Maxwell told me I should find Miss Rebecca Randall here."

Rebecca started at the sound and sprang to her feet, saying joyfully,

"Mr. Aladdin! Oh! I knew you were in Wareham, and I was afraid you

wouldn't have time to come and see us."

"Who is 'us'? The aunts are not here, are they? Oh, you mean the rich

blacksmith's daughter, whose name I can never remember. Is she here?"

"Yes, and my room-mate," answered Rebecca, who thought her own knell of

doom had sounded, if he had forgotten Emma Jane's name.

The light in the room grew softer, the fire crackled cheerily, and they

talked of many things, until the old sweet sense of friendliness and

familiarity crept back into Rebecca's heart. Adam had not seen her for

several months, and there was much to be learned about school matters

as viewed from her own standpoint; he had already inquired concerning

her progress from Mr. Morrison.

"Well, little Miss Rebecca," he said, rousing himself at length, "I

must be thinking of my drive to Portland. There is a meeting of railway

directors there to-morrow, and I always take this opportunity of

visiting the school and giving my valuable advice concerning its

affairs, educational and financial."

"It seems funny for you to be a school trustee," said Rebecca

contemplatively. "I can't seem to make it fit."

"You are a remarkably wise young person and I quite agree with you," he

answered; "the fact is," he added soberly, "I accepted the trusteeship

in memory of my poor little mother, whose last happy years were spent

here."

"That was a long time ago!"

"Let me see, I am thirty-two; only thirty-two, despite an occasional

gray hair. My mother was married a month after she graduated, and she

lived only until I was ten; yes, it is a long way back to my mother's

time here, though the school was fifteen or twenty years old then, I

believe. Would you like to see my mother, Miss Rebecca?"

The girl took the leather case gently and opened it to find an

innocent, pink-and-white daisy of a face, so confiding, so sensitive,

that it went straight to the heart. It made Rebecca feel old,

experienced, and maternal. She longed on the instant to comfort and

strengthen such a tender young thing.

"Oh, what a sweet, sweet, flowery face!" she whispered softly.

"The flower had to bear all sorts of storms," said Adam gravely. "The

bitter weather of the world bent its slender stalk, bowed its head, and

dragged it to the earth. I was only a child and could do nothing to

protect and nourish it, and there was no one else to stand between it

and trouble. Now I have success and money and power, all that would

have kept her alive and happy, and it is too late. She died for lack of

love and care, nursing and cherishing, and I can never forget it. All

that has come to me seems now and then so useless, since I cannot share

it with her!"

This was a new Mr. Aladdin, and Rebecca's heart gave a throb of

sympathy and comprehension. This explained the tired look in his eyes,

the look that peeped out now and then, under all his gay speech and

laughter.

"I'm so glad I know," she said, "and so glad I could see her just as

she was when she tied that white muslin hat under her chin and saw her

yellow curls and her sky-blue eyes in the glass. Mustn't she have been

happy! I wish she could have been kept so, and had lived to see you

grow up strong and good. My mother is always sad and busy, but once

when she looked at John I heard her say, 'He makes up for everything.'

That's what your mother would have thought about you if she had lived,

and perhaps she does as it is."

"You are a comforting little person, Rebecca," said Adam, rising from

his chair.

As Rebecca rose, the tears still trembling on her lashes, he looked at

her suddenly as with new vision.

"Good-by!" he said, taking her slim brown hands in his, adding, as if

he saw her for the first time, "Why, little Rose-Red-Snow-White is

making way for a new girl! Burning the midnight oil and doing four

years' work in three is supposed to dull the eye and blanch the cheek,

yet Rebecca's eyes are bright and she has a rosy color! Her long braids

are looped one on the other so that they make a black letter U behind,

and they are tied with grand bows at the top! She is so tall that she

reaches almost to my shoulder. This will never do in the world! How

will Mr. Aladdin get on without his comforting little friend! He

doesn't like grown-up young ladies in long trains and wonderful fine

clothes; they frighten and bore him!"

"Oh, Mr. Aladdin!" cried Rebecca eagerly, taking his jest quite

seriously; "I am not fifteen yet, and it will be three years before I'm

a young lady; please don't give me up until you have to!"

"I won't; I promise you that," said Adam. "Rebecca," he continued,

after a moment's pause, "who is that young girl with a lot of pretty

red hair and very citified manners? She escorted me down the hill; do

you know whom I mean?"

"It must be Huldah Meserve; she is from Riverboro."

Adam put a finger under Rebecca's chin and looked into her eyes; eyes

as soft, as clear, as unconscious, and childlike as they had been when

she was ten. He remembered the other pair of challenging blue ones that

had darted coquettish glances through half-dropped lids, shot arrowy

beams from under archly lifted brows, and said gravely, "Don't form

yourself on her, Rebecca; clover blossoms that grow in the fields

beside Sunnybrook mustn't be tied in the same bouquet with gaudy

sunflowers; they are too sweet and fragrant and wholesome."