The Wyndham Girls

by Marion Ames Taggart

  CHAPTER X

  DISCOVERIES

  There were hints of spring in the air. The willows near the northernentrance to Central Park had a filmy, yellow-green effect in thedistance, as if the coming leaves were foreshadowed in a mist ofsap. The robins were full of importance, bustling over their springarrangements, and the strawberry venders were adding their discordantvoices to the necessary city sounds, yet adding, too, to the generalcheerfulness with the scarlet-laden trays balanced on their heads.

  The Wyndhams had prepared for a pleasant day. Ruth had come to spendit with them, and hem the ruffles of her new white dimity. Jessamy,Phyllis, and Barbara had sewing, and the new machine which they hadadded to their belongings stood ready, with its top invitingly laidback, in Phyllis's room, where the strongest and longest light came.

  "If we had nothing to do but practise a little music, get through alittle shopping, make and receive a few calls, we should miss all thissort of pleasantness," said Jessamy, touching up a bow on a hat she wastrimming, and holding it off to look at it with one eye shut in trueartistic manner.

  "Half the best things of life are not to be met on the highways; it'sthe byways which are loveliest, figuratively and literally," said Ruth,contentedly.

  "That sounds like a poem condensed into prose," remarked Bab. "Are yougoing to drop into poetry?"

  Ruth laughed. "All happy people must be more or less poetical, Ifancy," she said. "I wonder if Silas Wegg meant more than he knewwhen he talked about dropping into poetry in the light of a friend?If you're friendly toward life and people, then you get happy, thenpoetical; it's a clear sequence in my mind, only I haven't expressed itclearly."

  "Not very, Ruth, and that's undeniable," laughed Phyllis. "I amperfectly certain Mr. Wegg meant nothing so complex. However, your ideais all right; I know from experience one becomes a poet under pressureof happiness."

  "_One_ does; the rest don't," said Jessamy. "Phyllis sings yards ofrhymes when she's jolly, but Bab and I remain prose copies."

  "Won't you show me that story you wrote, and Jessamy's illustrations?"said Ruth. "I'll solemnly--and safely--promise not to go home andreproduce either."

  Phyllis arose and took from her desk several sheets of foolscap,covered with painstaking writing. She also produced several squares ofBristol board, and gave it all into Ruth's hands. "You won't appreciatethe drawings unless you read the story," she said. "We think Jessamyhas come out in an entirely new vein, and never has done anything tocompare with this."

  Ruth looked at the drawings with surprise and admiration growinggreater every moment. "Why," she cried at last, "I should think shehad come out and surpassed herself! Why, Jessamy, they're exquisite!Dainty, graceful, but strong, and--I can't say what I mean--original isa stupid word, yet I can't get hold of a better."

  "Individual, Mrs. Van Alyn says, and she knows," said Barbara. "Thestory is good, too."

  "I can't tell what has happened to me," said Jessamy, looking veryglad. "But it is as though I had been groping my way with my eyeshalf-shut, and suddenly I saw, and felt as well as saw, just where Ibelonged and what I meant to express. I did those illustrations fast,and I really do not think I drew one line with uncertainty. It is thestrangest thing, but I feel as though I had discovered myself, andcould do what I wanted to do. Even when I am not at work I feel thesame certainty of power. It is the most glorious feeling! It isn'tone bit conceit, but I can't lose the impression of being equal toanything."

  "Well, I don't know much about artistic matters, either writing ordrawing, but I suppose that means just what you say: you've discoveredyourself, and if you have, you're bound to succeed," said Ruth. "Whatare you going to do with the story and pictures? Have you sent itanywhere?"

  "Not yet--" began Jessamy, but Bab interrupted her. "She must take itherself, and show it to one of the magazine editors, we think," shesaid.

  "They say it is just as well to send things--better, perhaps, sinceeditors are such busy men," said Ruth. "But whatever you do, get itseen soon."

  "We are going to collaborate, and grow tremendously rich and famous,"laughed Phyllis, putting the work back in the desk. "There's our bell;oh, dear, I hope no one has come just when we are beginning such alovely day!"

  "It is Mrs. Van Alyn, girls, and she is coming in there," called Bab,from the hall.

  "I have come to be disagreeable and spoil all your plans," said Mrs.Van Alyn, kissing Phyllis and Jessamy. "Don't get up, dears; the endof the bed is all I want, for I mean to hurry off, and take Jessamywith me." And she pushed one side the scattered breadths of an organdieJessamy was cutting.

  "Oh, don't sit on Trucie!" cried Bab. "He's somewhere there asleep,after bothering our lives out."

  "Dear me!" cried Mrs. Van Alyn, jumping up hastily. "Why, Barbara,you scamp, why did you frighten me so? The kitten is rolled up in thepillow-sham!"

  "Did you say you wanted me to go out with you, Mrs. Van Alyn?" askedJessamy.

  "Yes. Where is your mother?" asked their friend.

  "Mama went to market to-day, and said she should sit in the parkawhile; she hasn't come in," answered Jessamy.

  "Then I can speak in ordinary tones; the worst of these dear littleapartments is that the rooms are so close together there is no chancefor secrets," laughed Mrs. Van Alyn. "I would rather your mothershould not know my errand, for very likely it amounts to nothing,and I don't want to set her dreaming. There is a young lawyer of myacquaintance--the son of very nice people I met in the Berkshires--whohad a desk in one of Mr. Abbott's offices a year and a half ago--thewinter before the trouble. He thinks it is possible that he may be ableto help Mr. Hurd prove that Mr. Abbott put his property out of hishands too late for it to have been legal, or at least that a part of itwas disposed of too late. He has seen Mr. Hurd, and he sent Mr. RobertLane--the young lawyer--to me, asking me to let him meet your mother.But I prefer to save her possible disappointment, as I said, so I amgoing to carry Jessamy off to lunch with me, and Mr. Lane will call athalf-past two to see her. You know enough of the matter to satisfy him,don't you, Jessamy?"

  "I know more than I did at the time it happened," said Jessamy, "forthen I knew nothing; I have tried to learn all about it from mamasince. Of course, I will go, dear Mrs. Van Alyn; you are always so goodto us!"

  "Nonsense, my dear! There is not much goodness in stealing one ofyou for a few hours; you are such busy bees nowadays I can hardly geta peep at you. Make haste, or as much as you can consistently withlooking your prettiest. Old Peter is driving up and down, and I amdreadfully afraid of him; he looks unutterable things if I use thehorses more than he approves. Show me all your pretty things whileJessamy is dressing, Phyllida and Babette. Little Miss Ruth Wells,you are the quickest needlewoman I ever saw. I wish you girls couldkeep me here all day, instead of the exigencies of the law drivingJessamy and me away. There are never bright spots like this room in myhouse." And Mrs. Van Alyn's sweet face clouded; her three little girls,who would have been just the age of the three Wyndhams, had slept inGreenwood for more than ten years, taken from her in one dreadful weekby diphtheria.

  "Ready, Jessamy sweet?" she asked, as Jessamy came back, looking lovelyin her gray gown, with the blush roses nestling against her hair underthe soft brim of her hat. "Come, then; good-by, Phyllida, Babette,little Ruth, who manages to glean so much that is worth having. Jessamyshall come back safely, but late; tell your mother only that I carriedher off to spend the day."

  "Wouldn't it be nice if we could get some of our money back?" saidBarbara, tickling Truce's nose with the end of his long tail, when shehad come back from seeing Mrs. Van Alyn and Jessamy safely off.

  "Nice! It would be just fine," cried Ruth. "Though that doesn't seemquite consistent with what we were saying as Mrs. Van Alyn came in."

  "It is a good thing we have learned all we know now," said Phyllis,thoughtfully. "We can never forget it, and be the sort of girls weshould have been if we had never seen the seamy side. Still, thatdoesn't make it inconsistent to be glad to have enough not to f
eeluncertain of how we are coming out. If we all had wealth--even greatwealth--again, which we probably shall never have, we should use itbetter than we would have before we learned our lesson; we cannotforget some things gained in this year."

  "_You_ probably will not," said Ruth, smiling to herself, as if she knewsomething that amused her in that connection.

  Phyllis and Bab looked up, the former wonderingly, the latter with asharp look; her tone was a trifle sharp also as she asked: "What, forinstance?"

  "Making croquettes," laughed Ruth, with a teasing look. "I suspect someof you have gained more than you realize."

  "Why this Guy Fawkes--only an amiable Guy Fawkes--manner, Ruth?" askedPhyllis. "One would think there were something funny about it, and wewere talking quite seriously. Bab and I are out of the joke; what isit?"

  "You have gained a kitten, haven't you?" hinted Ruth.

  Barbara flushed quickly, but Phyllis smiled frankly, and said: "Yes,and a perfect one too, and we have gained the friendship of Nixie andNixie's master, and I suppose Tom is more than even Truce; at any rate,I owe Truce to him. All that is not mysteriously funny, though; what isamusing you?"

  "Phyllis owns the kitten; that is her personal gain."

  "Yes; so far, maybe, Phyllis has rather the heaviest score to hercredit of all the family. The matter with me, Phyl, is that I am achingto tell you girls something, and I don't know whether I ought to ornot. It wasn't told me; I found it out, and yet it is a secret, andperhaps you won't thank me for telling," said Ruth.

  "Does it concern us, and what has happened to us in the past year?"asked Phyllis, mystified.

  "Secrets are likely to make mischief; I am sure this is one that willupset things. Yet you might as well tell now, for we shall guess it; itis the kind that is likely to come out anyway, isn't it?" asked Bab, ina manner most unlike herself.

  It was Ruth's turn to look surprised. "You must have some idea of whatit is," she said.

  "I could guess," said Barbara, briefly.

  "Well, I do not think this is fair," said Phyllis. "I seem to be theonly one in the dark. Tell the secret, Ruth, unless you really can't."

  "Well, then--oh, I feel mean telling you, but girls can't keep secretsanyway, and this is such a lovely one! What did you do with your hairwhen it was cut off?" said Ruth, speaking very fast at the last.

  "I? I didn't do anything with it; how could I, when I was so ill?"asked Phyllis. "If you mean what was done with it, I believe each ofthe family kept a lock and burned the rest."

  "All of it?" asked Ruth, knowingly.

  "What do you mean, Ruth; what are you getting at?" inquired Phyllis,impatiently.

  "Tom came to see me the other night," said Ruth. "He wanted to show mesomething one of his sisters had written him, and he pulled a lot ofpapers out of his pocket, hunting for the letter. A great many fellon the floor, and though we thought he had gathered them all up, Ispied a narrow one, quite worn in the folds, under the sofa some halfan hour later. I picked it up, and was going to hand it to him when along lock of hair slipped out. Then I didn't dare let him know I hadseen it, so I made an excuse to get out of the room and popped it intohis overcoat pocket. But before I did so I saw what was written on theoutside of the paper, and the paper was worn and had been folded small,and the ends were wrinkled as if it had been in a bag; I believe hehad worn it around his neck, Phyllis. And on the paper was written:'Christmas Eve, 1901. "Nay, but you who do not love her, is she notpure gold"'--Browning, you know! And the initials 'P.'--"

  "Stop, stop, Ruth!" cried Phyllis, her hands over her ears, her facecrimson.

  "What is the use of stopping her at one letter? You have heard thewhole story," said Bab.

  Phyllis's face was full of a strange light; shame, regret, joy,shyness--all were there; but, above all, wonder. "You ought not to havetold me; I ought not to have listened," she said. "But even if--if itwere mine--"

  "It was," interrupted Ruth, with decision.

  "Well, if it was, what of it? Surely there is nothing strange incarrying a friend's hair, and especially when you thought she wasdying," stammered Phyllis.

  "You haven't been dying all this time, miss; and what about theBrowning line?" suggested Ruth.

  "Perhaps boys are like girls, after all, and like to play at beingsentimental," said Phyllis. "It is mean of us to spy on Tom; I supposeboys like to dream. Do you remember, Bab, that funny little peanutItalian boy we used to watch for when we were about eleven, and how weused to wear a peanut for a badge to show how we all three admired him?Weren't we funny little monkeys?"

  "I have some recollection of the peanut Italian," said Bab, "though Iam not sure we could find that quarter of Italy on the map. It strikesme some of us are rather funny monkeys still."

  "Trying to change the subject, Phyl?" teased Ruth. "Did you thinksensible Tom would be your first--"

  "You must not, Ruth; I won't let you!" cried Phyllis, in sinceredistress. "Please don't talk about it; please never jest about it.I would give the world not to have heard of it. It doesn't mean onething; Tom is fond of us all, quite fond enough to carry all our hairin his pocket--"

  "That _is_ a proof of affection," said Bab, laughing. "All our hair!Dear me! Still, I agree with Phyllis; we ought all be spanked forour impertinence; let's change the subject. If we get silly andsentimental, we sha'n't be able to stand ourselves. I hate sentiment,and I hate a fool, like Mr. F.'s aunt in 'Little Dorrit'! What a dearold lady she was; so sensible! Don't tell Jessamy this trash. RuthWells, I dare you to try a griddle-cake race with me at luncheon. We'llmake the yellow bowl full, and I dare you to race me eating them."

  "Why, Barbara Wyndham, do you want to kill yourself? You know theyalways hurt you!" said Phyllis, horrified. "And a race eating! Ruth,don't do it!"

  "Why should I want to kill myself just when we're all so happy, andeverything is going beautifully?" cried Bab. "Come on, Ruth!" And shegathered up her skirts and danced toward the kitchen, singing cakewalkmusic, and swinging her body in the real plantation manner.

  Ruth, always ready for anything, followed her, while Phyllis went tolet in her aunt, who rang at that moment. Then she continued her way,and stood leaning her hot cheeks against the glass of the parlor window.

  Tom! Her hair! She had not believed a word she had said of it beingonly boyish sentiment. Was she glad or sorry? She did not know;it spoiled all the old, unconscious friendliness, but then it wasbeautiful to feel that dear Tom cared for her all alone, and forherself, not as "one of the Wyndham girls." Whether she was fonderof him than she had guessed she could not tell in this first confusedpleasure and regret; all she knew was that she could not let any onespeak of it; it was something to keep all to herself and dream over,while she was pretending to Babbie and Ruth that she had forgotten allabout it. Whether she was glad or sorry, it was a lovely thing to havehappen to a girl, and she hardly knew herself for little Phyllis in thenew light it shed around her. She caught up Truce, and laid his purringlittle throat against her cheek; Truce was very fond of her, and he waspart of Tom's kindness.

  Phyllis went back to the kitchen, where she found Ruth in a gale oflaughter and Bab as full of pranks as a monkey. She mimicked old blackSally, then scolded herself, impersonating Aunt Henrietta, till Phyllishad to sit down and gasp for breath, and Ruth was so weak from laughingthat she could not stir the cake-batter.

  All lunch-time Bab talked a stream of nonsense that made her mothershake her head between peals of laughter, and warn her that such highspirits usually preceded the other extreme with her mercurial littleself. But Bab was irrepressible, and both Ruth and Phyllis begged formercy, till Bab seated herself at her piano and played dance music andmade them dance till they could no longer stand.

  "Now, who says three girls can't have a jolly time, with nothing butthemselves to make it jolly?" demanded Barbara. "Phyllis, when Ruthgoes home, you are to go with her; you haven't been out to-day."

  "Is that a hint?" asked Ruth. "You needn't send me home, MistressBarbara, because I w
as going anyway. I promised mother to get homeearly, so that she could go out. Will you come with me, Phyllis?"

  "No; Babbie and I are going to sew longer," replied Phyllis.

  "Babbie and you are going to do nothing of the sort. You must takeyour airing, and I shall rest; I am sure I have earned it," said Bab,decidedly.

  Accordingly, Phyllis left the house with Ruth, but she was not in themood for walking all the way home with her friend. She went but partway, then returned, and let herself in with her key half an hour later.The house was very still, and Phyllis, moving softly, saw that her auntwas asleep in her own room. Passing on down the narrow hall, she cameto Bab's door, and stopped short at what she saw. There lay Barbara,flat on her face, which was buried in the pillow. Stifled moans camefrom the slender figure, which was shaking with sobs so violent thatPhyllis's heart stood still with terror; the first thought that crossedher mind was that something awful had happened to Jessamy, or that heraunt was not sleeping, but had died, and Bab knew it.

  "For heaven's sake, Bab, what is it; tell me," she whispered, layingher hand on the heaving shoulder.

  Barbara started as though she had been shot. "You here?" she gasped."Where did you come from?"

  "What has happened? Is it Jessamy?" whispered Phyllis.

  "Nothing has happened; do let me alone! I--I have a headache," saidpoor Bab.

  "Nothing happened?" repeated Phyllis, sitting down on the edge of thebed, and gathering her cousin into her arms. "Dear, darling Babbie, areyou ill? Aren't you happy?"

  "Happy!" echoed Bab, scornfully; then she seemed to recall herself, andsaid quickly: "It's just as Madrina said: I was too gay, that's all;this is the reaction."

  "Bab, that is not true; you were gay because you were trying to hidesomething," said Phyllis, slowly. "What is wrong with you, dearie? TellPhyllis; you know she will help you."

  "What do you care?" asked Bab, bitterly, putting down her head on thepillow and withdrawing from Phyllis's arms. "You have everything a girlcould ask; what do you care about me?"

  "Why, Bab, how unjust you are! As though I could be happy if youweren't! And what have I that you have not--" Phyllis stopped suddenly.An idea crossed her mind that made her breath come in a swift sob.Oh, surely that was not it; Bab was a child--"Are you really in pain,Babbie? Are you ill? Let me send word to Tom; he will help you; hewould do anything for you, you know," she said, with sudden cunning.

  "Anything you asked him too," said Bab. "I have known about Tom forsome time, Phyllis. That was not news to me to-day. Of course, I don'twant his help, nor any medicine. And I wish you would let me alone,Phyllis; I don't want you to touch me, or bother with me. I have aheadache; you said those cakes would hurt me. Can't I have a headacheor be blue without being bothered? You all think I never have a sobermoment because I generally am cutting capers. I'll caper again, neverfear. But, honestly, I don't want to see you now, Phyllis. I hope I'mnot rude, but you're driving me mad. Do go! I hoped you were out of thehouse for an hour or so. Flats are horrid! A body can't cry a minute inone. Go, go, _go_, Phyllis; only go." Barbara was getting hysterical,and Phyllis rose without another word. Her own face was full of pain asshe turned away, and her eyes looked big with dismayed surprise. Sheturned back and kissed Barbara. "You'll be better if you take a nap,"she said. It cut her like a knife that Bab shrank from her lips.

  Phyllis went to her own room, and sat down in her little rocking-chairwithout taking off her hat. Here was trouble indeed, and childhood'speaceful days looked very sweet and distant.