CHAPTER XI
LOYAL PHYLLIS
Phyllis sat looking, with unseeing eyes, out upon the small courtyardbelow her window for more than an hour. All day her brain had beenfull of sweet, indefinite girlish dreams from which Bab's grief hadaroused her into most definitely unpleasant waking. She was a sensiblelittle body, and she knew that she was not yet fond enough of Tom tomake it tragic that she must find measures to break off his increasingaffection for her; nor was she conceited enough to believe that itwould be fatal to Tom's happiness for all time to drive him from her.It was as though a vision of vague and beautiful possibilities hadarisen before her, from which she must turn away her eyes; it was notthat she was rejecting a present good, but that which might grow into avery precious gift in the future. She shrank from the idea of a loveryet, feeling too young and too content in her girlhood to toleratelosing it, but Tom was a dear, good, splendid boy, and by and by,possibly, when she was older and ready to be a woman--then who couldtell? Perhaps she would grow fonder of him--so fond that--
And at that point Phyllis had shyly stopped, even in her thoughts;but it had been delicious to dream, thus vaguely, all day since Ruthhad told the mischievous secret. Now Phyllis felt, without a moment'sdoubt, that she must dream no more.
If Bab already cared so much that Tom's preference for her cousincould cost her such bitter tears, their source but ill concealed, thenPhyllis knew that her duty was to turn away from rose-colored visionsand try to bring about Bab's happiness.
She had a sorrowful feeling that when she had closed the front doorbehind her, and walked in upon weeping Babbie, she had shut it upon herfirst careless youth, and was beginning to grow up and face a grown-upgirl's puzzles. For in stories sometimes two friends were rivals, andall sorts of catastrophes came from the situation, and one or both ofthe heroines had a hard lot to bear. Well, she and Bab were never to berivals, that was certain; how absurd it all was, and how sensible Tomwould laugh if he could know her thoughts! But, after all, it was notabsurd, but the beginning of what might prove a real sorrow if some onedid not prevent it; and no one but she herself could remedy the matter,if it could be done at all. Yes, she felt sure it could be done, andthat there was only one way to do it. If that way involved sacrificefor herself, that did not make it less her duty. She would rather diethan stand in the way of Barbara's good, much rather die than be theone to deprive either of her adopted sisters of anything essential toher happiness; for they were dearer and more to be considered that theywere not her own sisters, but the children of the uncle and aunt towhom she owed so much. Phyllis thought and thought, and it seemed toher the only thing that she could do was to drop out of the little homewhich was dearer to her, if possible, than to either of the others, andgo away for a while, until Tom should have grown sensible enough to seehow much nicer Bab really was than she. When that happy day had comeshe would come back; she hoped it would not be long coming, for herheart sickened within her at the thought of herself alone from home.There was that dear old lady in Boston; she would write her, and askher if the place as companion she had promised her whenever she claimedit were still open to her, and if it were she would pack her trunk andslip out, and the blessed "square of Wyndhams," as they called thehappy four constituting their family, would be a four no longer.
Above all, Mrs. Wyndham must not guess the true reason of her going,for she would never consent to Phyllis going away for Barbara's sake.Jessamy? Yes, she would tell Jessamy, for she must have an assistant infurthering her plans, both in getting away and in seeing that Barbarawas helped toward the happiness she might miss if let alone; forPhyllis had heard that girls in love sometimes did such dreadful thingsthat they drove off the blessing they craved. She had known such cases,she thought, then remembered that her experience was confined to thebook-shelves, and that the only case in point she had encountered wasHetty Lambert's, in "The Virginians."
Phyllis had reached this stage of her meditations, and had wiped awaysome quiet tears which would come as she planned giving up everythingshe loved, even for a time, when the bell rang, and she rose to let inJessamy, radiant, lovely, at the end of a very happy day.
"Bab has a headache, and auntie is lying down," said Phyllis. "Is thereany news, Jessamy?"
"Mr. Lane thinks the prospect is good of our recovering something,"said Jessamy, going into Phyllis's room to take off her hat. "He isthe nicest person! Beautiful manners, and decidedly good-looking--wellbred, you know," Jessamy added, as if she could say no more, as indeedshe could not, being the sort of girl she was. "I had a lovely day;Mrs. Van Alyn is perfect. Why have you your hat on? Have you been out,or are you going? It is nearly dinner-time. When did Ruth go?"
"Ruth went rather early; I forgot my hat. I walked with her a littleway, and have been sitting here, thinking, ever since," said Phyllis,taking out her hat-pins and tossing her hat on the bed with a gestureas though flowers and their getting tumbled were beneath her interest.
"Anything wrong, Phyl? You've been crying!" said Jessamy, turning fromthe glass with a sharp look at her cousin. "What ails Bab? She neverhas headaches."
"There's nothing very wrong, Jessamy; nothing we can't set right,"said Phyllis. "It is a story too long to tell you now, but I'm going totell you as soon as we can get off somewhere together. It is a solemnsecret, mind, and you're not to tell a soul--not even auntie. Don'tappear to see anything queer about Bab to-night, and to-morrow comewith me into the park and we'll talk it out."
"Then it is about Bab?" said Jessamy, looking puzzled. "Bab, of allpeople! She was all right when I went away; I don't see how I can waituntil to-morrow to hear the secret, Phyllis. It can't be very trifling,when you show no interest in getting our money back."
"It is just a horrid little snarl, Amy, but nothing worse; you and Iwill unravel it. Hush! I hear auntie, and Bab is moving about in herroom. Let's put the kettle on; there's nothing like the kitchen fortroubled minds! Don't you dare look thoughtful this evening, nor tryto guess what I've on my mind by studying me, or Bab will see. I amgoing to tell you as soon as I can. Better change your dress, Jessamy;I'll whisk on my apron, and get the water boiling," Phyllis added in alouder tone, as her aunt came down the hall.
In spite of Phyllis's warning, Jessamy found her eyes wanderingfrom her face to Bab's all through dinner. One she saw was clouded,discontented, very unlike its usually bright self; the other, grave,but patient and sweet: neither helped her to a solution of the mysteryin the air.
There was no possibility of waiting for the morrow to hear Phyllis'sstory. Curiosity made it more than easy for Jessamy to keep awake untilher mother and Bab were asleep, and, creeping to Phyllis's door, shesoon satisfied herself that her cousin was as wakeful as she was. "Geton your wrapper and come into the kitchen, Phyl; I'm wild to hear whatyou have to tell me," she said through a crack in the door.
Phyllis opened it at once. "I'll come," she said. "Don't make a sound."
Jessamy went down the hall in the dark, and Phyllis followed her in afew moments, wrapped in her eiderdown wrapper, soundless knit slipperson her feet, and Truce in her arms, for the kitten was her bedfellow,and was so spoiled that he would have cried and aroused the householdif he had wakened to find himself alone.
"Now," said Jessamy, carefully and noiselessly closing the door behindPhyllis, and taking the straight chair, having pulled the rockerforward for her cousin, "now, tell me." Phyllis seated herself, tuckingher feet up on the round of the chair and pulling her wrapper downaround them, for the floor was cold. Truce immediately took up the postunder the tubs which he always assumed to look for the mice which nevercame.
"Well, Jessamy," Phyllis began, "it is not the sort of news you expect,no matter what you have guessed it to be. Babbie has fallen in lovewith Tom."
"Bab?" exclaimed Jessamy, so loudly that Phyllis had to warn her to becareful. "But that is impossible! Why, Tom is beginning to care foryou."
"How did you know that?" demanded Phyllis, sitting up straight. "Babsaid, too, she had thought s
o for some time. I never dreamed such athing until Ruth told us something to-day. It is all horrid, Jessamy,and I wish we were back to our doll days."
"What did Ruth tell you? What makes you fancy such nonsense about Bab?"asked Jessamy; but, as she spoke, the memory of Bab's curt manner whenshe had spoken of Tom's caring for Phyllis came back to her with a pangof foreboding.
Phyllis recounted, without interruption from Jessamy, the secret thatRuth had discovered, and Bab's subsequent behavior. Then, withoutwaiting for comment from Jessamy, she said: "There's only one thingfor me to do, Jessamy; I'm going to slip out and leave Tom to love theright girl, if he loves a Wyndham at all. I'm going to write to Bostonto Mrs. Dean, and ask if she will take me, as she said she would. Ishall stay there until the trouble blows over, and you will get a maidto do the work, which would be too much for you without me; we couldafford it as it is, so we certainly can when I am earning money."
Jessamy rose and put her arms around Phyllis, kneeling at her side."My dear, good, unselfish Phyllis," she said, "if you won't let metell mama--and I think it is right not to, because it would worry herdreadfully to think there was no way of keeping pain from one or theother of her girls--you force me to act as I know she would if she weretold. Bab is not the only one to be considered; you have just as muchright to be happy as she. And there is Tom. It is you, not Bab, he hasturned to; is it just to give him no thought? And are you sure youdon't care a little bit for him, dear?"
"I have tried to be very honest, Jessamy," said Phyllis, slowly. "Ilike Tom; I believe I could do more than like him by and by. Wait! ButI don't love him; I never thought of loving any one until to-day. Iliked to think of it--I'll confess that--but before the thought hada chance to do any harm I found out about Babbie; wasn't it lucky,Jessamy? As to Tom, it is only a boyish fancy, and he will get so muchthe better bargain in getting Bab that there is no reason to be sorryfor him."
"Neither mama nor I would admit that, though Babbie is a splendid,true, loving girl," said Jessamy. "But there never was but one Phyllis,and you must know that if Bab is my own sister, you have always beeneven dearer to me than she. I won't have you sacrifice yourself,Phyllis, not for any, or all of us, so you may make up your mind thismoment that I will not help your plan out till I have thought a longtime. And how do you suppose we shall bear letting you go?"
"And how do you suppose I shall bear going?" retorted Phyllis. "EvenTrucie is dear, and I can't bear to leave him. But it is the only wayto bring things straight. As to sacrificing myself, if I were to behappy at Bab's expense, I couldn't be happy--to make a fine bull. Butdon't let us get sentimental and exaggerate the case, Jessamy. I amjust running away from a possibility; I might have something beautifulin the end, if there were no reason why I should not have it; but againI might never find it beautiful. In the meantime here is Babbie, reallyunhappy, jealous of me, wanting positively what I might possibly havewanted, but never could want now. Do you realize how dreadful it wasto have Bab, our own Bab, shrink away from me when I kissed her, andto feel that she was actually jealous of me? Why, I wouldn't have sucha thing as that between our love, breaking up the fondest affectionthree girls ever felt for one another, for all the splendid boys inthe world! So help me away, Jessamy; help me get auntie's consent, andhelp me keep up heart to leave home for the first time in my life; for,honestly, I am a coward at the thought of it. And, after I am gone,help Barbara be happy."
"Do you ever think, my darling old Loyalty," said Jessamy, with ahug, "that you may be throwing away a very precious thing--for I feelsure you could care for Tom, and he is not a man to be met with everyday--throwing it away all for nothing? That you may wean him from youwithout turning him to Bab, and that Bab herself may be passing througha mere girlish fancy?"
Phyllis was silent a moment, then she said slowly: "I never oncethought of that, but I mustn't think of it now. I must do what isright, and hope for the best. I don't think Babbie is the sort totake silly, trifling little fancies, and you don't think so, either.Tom must care for her, since he is goose enough not to care for you,because he will never find any one to compare with you two. But if hedidn't love Bab at last, at least she would not think I had robbed her,and I wouldn't have that thought to torture me, and we'd still have oneanother; and I always did say, having that, nothing else mattered."
Jessamy drew the pretty head, with its soft rings of hair, down onher shoulder, and kissed Phyllis with a tenderness that was almostmotherly. "You are the best, the truest girl that ever lived, Phyllis,and I respect you even more than I love you. Bab ought to be thankfulon her knees for such generous love as yours, if she never gets anyother kind. You shall go, dear; I won't say one word against it, andI'll help you all I can. If mama could know this she would be quiteovercome with your devotion to Bab. I only hope Bab will be worthy ofyour love and truth."
"I'd do just as much for you, Jessamy," said Phyllis, looking up slylythrough the tears she was shedding on her cousin's blue jacket.
"Don't you imply I don't appreciate your love, miss," said Jessamy."Go to bed, Phylkins; you are cold. And go to sleep; perhaps youhave imagined more than the truth, and you won't go away, after all.To think of your giving up a lover to Bab! It's rather romantic andinteresting, isn't it? This is the horrid penalty of being nineteen."
"Oh, dear me, yes; that's what I have been thinking all the afternoon.I wish we were nine, don't you?" said Phyllis, fervently.
Jessamy hesitated. "There is something rather nice about growing up,though," she said meditatively. "To be quite honest, Phyl, I think itwould be pleasant having lovers and admiration and all that, providedwe did not all fancy the same youth."
"Have you been tasting that pleasure, Jessamy Wyndham?" demandedPhyllis, grown sharp in the experience of the past hours. "Was Mr. Lanequick to recognize our princess's charms?"
"Don't be a goose, Phyllis; he was very polite, of course," saidJessamy. "If we don't take care, we shall be as bad as the girls wealways have despised, who see a possible admirer in every young manthey meet. Go to bed, dearie, and go to sleep. It's a perfect shameBab's notions have to shadow your blessed, unselfish little face--whenyou were going your ways so unconsciously and harmlessly, too! It isn'ther fault, but I really believe I should enjoy shaking Babbie a little,especially if you go away."
"Poor, dear little Babbie! You don't know how bitterly she was cryingwhen I found her," said Phyllis, unrolling herself from the folds ofher wrapper. "It certainly isn't her fault, and I shall be happy if sheis. Come, Truchi-ki; bedtime, and past it, my golden-eyed kitten! Nomouselets here, so there's no use watching; they know too much to comewhere kittens watch. It's rather nice to be a little white catkin, andpurr at a touch, isn't it, Jessamy?" she added, as she swung Truce toher shoulder, where he immediately cuddled down to purr. "We used tobe little white, purring things too, not long ago; it is such a pitynot to stay so! Until the trouble came we never knew a care; and now,just when we are getting so cozy, the baby has to fall in love! Isn'tit horrid? Good night; you're such a comfort, Amy-princess, with yourcommon sense and your partial judgments of me! I wonder if this kitchenwas ever the refuge of any other girl tenants in sentimental troubles?"
"Good night, loyal Phyllis; I can never love you nor thank you enoughfor Bab, who is not likely to realize fully what you have done. I'm notpartial to you; I can't do you justice, but at least I know it," saidJessamy, taking Phyllis and the kitten into a comprehensive embrace andkissing her with her heart on her lips.
Tired out with their long talk, and chilled in the night air, Jessamyand Phyllis soon fell asleep, and forgot the troubles hanging over themin the dreamless rest of their years.
Phyllis wrote her letter to Mrs. Dean, and posted it without a word toany one save Jessamy. There was no use in getting her aunt's permissionto go to Boston until she had found out whether the opportunity ofgoing were still open to her.
It was difficult to wait the answer, keep the secret, and behave inthe old way, as in the days when there were no secrets and, ab
oveall, no consciousness of changes that were far from pleasant in whatBarbara had called "the squareness of the square." But though it wasnot an easy task, Jessamy and Phyllis accomplished it fairly well,and, fortunately, it did not require doing long. Mrs. Dean repliedvery quickly to Phyllis's note, with unmistakable pleasure bidding herwelcome at the earliest possible time she could set out.
Mrs. Wyndham could not be brought to listen to the plan when it wasfirst broached to her; there was not the slightest need, she said,of Phyllis's leaving home; indeed it was unwise for her to go untilshe and Jessamy had first tested their hope of working together forthe magazines, for which Jessamy especially seemed suddenly so wellprepared. But Phyllis begged very hard to be allowed to try herwings, pleading restlessness and a longing to see more of the world;especially, she reminded her aunt, because no one could hope to writewell who lived in one narrow routine. Jessamy seconded her plea, andsaid they should work together quite as effectually with Phyllis inBoston, for she would send her stories home for Jessamy to illustrate,and nothing would be lost by separation.
Mrs. Wyndham was a little hurt at first by Phyllis's insistence, andthen not a little suspicious; it was so improbable that a restlessdesire to roam should come suddenly upon home-loving Phyllis in themidst of her supreme content in their new housekeeping. Though she didnot suspect that Barbara had any connection with the plan, she didsurmise that Phyllis was running away from an unwelcome lover, and sogave her consent reluctantly at last. Bab herself took the news withdumb amazement at first, then evidently with an irreconcilable mixtureof emotions. It was past comprehending that Phyllis did not care forTom, and yet this sudden change of spirit, following Ruth's disclosure,left no other solution. Bab did not believe that any one suspectedwhat it was costing her to think that even Phyllis was first in Tom'sesteem; she hoped that no one saw that Phyllis's going away was arelief to her, and she hated herself that it should be so.
So it was settled that Phyllis was to go out into the world to try herfortunes. She and Jessamy hunted up Violet, their former waitress, anddiscovered, as they had expected, that for the sake of coming back tothe Wyndhams she would gladly undertake to do "gen'l house-woak, doughshe mos' in gen'lly didn't cah 'bout it."
Getting Violet back simplified the domestic problem, and there wereno more obstacles in Phyllis's path of duty, except its generalthorniness, and this she tried to keep to herself.
Tom had been in and out as usual during these days when Jessamy andPhyllis were plotting against him, but of course was not told ofPhyllis's plans till they were complete.
Phyllis was in the park late one afternoon, when all her arrangementshad been settled, and even the day of her departure fixed upon as thecoming Monday. Only three days at home left her, she was thinkingsadly; but if she must go, delay could make it no easier, and, as shelooked up, she saw Tom coming toward her.
It was difficult to talk to Tom now, with her guilty consciousness ofso many complex feelings connected with him, but Phyllis managed tosmile with almost her old frankness, and say at once: "Oh, Tom, I'mglad to see you and tell you myself my great news; I'm going away."
"Away! Where? For how long?" asked Tom, his face falling.
"To Boston, and 'it may be for years and it may be forever.' I'm goingto be independent, and live a little solitary life of my own," laughedPhyllis, with affected gaiety.
"Phyllis!" exclaimed Tom, in such a shocked, grieved tone that Phyllishastily rattled on: "It may be spring fever, but I think it will lastlonger than spring. I am not going to be tied down to pots and pans allmy life."
"That does not sound like you," said Tom. "How do you think theothers--how do you think I shall get on without you?"
"The others have one another; you have them. Frankly, Tom, I am so muchoccupied in my own affairs I can't consider any one," said Phyllis.
"Why do you want to misrepresent yourself so?" demanded Tom,indignantly. "I have known you long enough to know what a good friendyou are, and how much better--"
"I am not a very good friend; Jessamy and Bab--Bab especially--aremuch more devoted to friends than I am," said Phyllis, who was new tothis sort of thing, and rather overdid trying to drive Tom from her. "Ihope that isn't rude, Tom, when you've been so good to me, but you'vethe truest Wyndhams left."
"Are you going to write me?" asked Tom, swallowing as well as he couldthis awkward implication that, after all, Phyllis had very littleinterest in him.
"You won't be offended if I don't, will you? That is, not to youpersonally; you will hear the letters I write home, and I shall wantmessages from you, but I mean to work very hard, and there are threepeople at home to write--and Ruth and Mrs. Van Alyn--and I must do myduty by Aunt Henrietta, I suppose, so you won't think it strange if Isatisfy myself with messages to you. You know I shall think of you,"added Phyllis, breaking down a little as she saw Tom's hurt and puzzledface; it was rather hard to put him so far below all these others.
"I cannot think anything later half as strange as this suddenannouncement that you are going away, and your snubbing me," said Tom."I have no right to complain of what you choose to do, but it is noteasy to understand you, Phyllis; you were never like this before, and Ihoped you knew how much more than either of the other girls--"
"I am not snubbing you, Tom," said Phyllis, hastily. "I should be sorryto lose your regard, but the whole truth--that is--you see--why, myfamily and my hopes of doing something good in work--that's all I careabout. Don't you understand, Tom?"
"I think I do," said poor Tom, rather huskily. "You aren't very good atmaking believe, and there's no kind of use in trying to make me thinkless well of you. You don't want me to tell you how I feel about yourgoing away, but it is hard--" He stopped, and stooped to pat Nixie. Tomwas only a big boy after all, and he was dangerously near tears.
"Dear Tom, you make me feel a selfish brute, but indeed I like you,and I wish we could all be together as before, and yet that I could dowhat I want to do; but as that can't be, I must choose what I care mostfor, so don't think much about me, since I am having my own way," saidPhyllis, holding to her purpose, though her own eyes were dim. "Andto prove how much I trust you, I am going to put dear Babbie in yourhands. She isn't quite well lately, though she is so brave and tries sohard to make us all happy that she doesn't talk about herself. Won'tyou take care of her for me, study her as a doctor, and cheer her up asa friend? Babbie is the most loving, faithful soul in the world; I amafraid she will miss me dreadfully. If you can get her all right again,I'll be your friend fast enough; you'll have no occasion to complain ofme."
"I'll look after her," said Tom, "though I don't think there isanything wrong with her. She shall not be lonely if I can help it. ByJove, Phyllis, I wish you weren't quite so wrapped up in your family!"
"But I am; in comparison, there is no one in the world for me. Here weare at home; are you not coming up?" said Phyllis.
"Not to-night. I'll be in to-morrow," said Tom, wringing the hand sheextended. "Good luck, Phyllis, and I'm just as much your friend, if youdon't feel interested in me."
And Phyllis, having succeeded in her efforts, toiled painfullyup-stairs, with the regret of her success.
The Wyndham Girls Page 11
