CHAPTER XXXV. A BIRTHDAY CAKE
Miss Dearborn had returned to Hillcrest, and with her were a small girland boy, the children of her dear college friend, who, with her baby, hadbeen taken from this world. Jenny, with Lenora, had gone that afternoonto see her and had learned that Miss Dearborn was to make a home for thelittle ones for a year, during which time their father was to tour theworld, then he would return and make a home for them himself. NeitherMiss Dearborn nor Jenny spoke their thoughts, but oh, _how_ the girlhoped that there would then be a happy ending to Miss Dearborn's longyears of sacrifice. If the young woman were thinking of this, her nextremark did not suggest it. "Jenny, dear, we will have three classes inour little school next year to suit the ages of my three pupils."
Then it was that Lenora said impulsively, "How I do wish, Miss Dearborn,that you could take still another pupil. My father and brother think bestto have me spend the winter in California. Our Dakota storms are sosevere. I am to live with the Warners just as I have been doing this pasttwo months." Miss Dearborn's reply was enthusiastic and sincere:"Splendid! That will make our little school complete. I know how Jennywill enjoy your companionship. She has often told me that if she had hadthe choosing of a sister, she would have been just like you."
Lenora glanced quickly at the speaker, wondering if Miss Dearborn _knew_who Jenny's _real_ sister was, but just then the little Austin girl ranto her "auntie" with a doll's sash to be tied, and the subject waschanged.
On that ride home behind Dobbin, Lenora wondered if Jenny would everlearn that Gwyn was her real sister. Charles had confided in her, and soshe knew that in the autumn Gwynette would be _her_ sister by marriageand that would draw Jenny and Lenora closer than ever. How she wishedthat she could tell Jenny everything she knew, but she had promised thatshe would not. When the girls returned home they found Susan Warner muchexcited about something. Gwynette had been over to call, _actually_ tocall, and she had remained on the side porch visiting with Grandma Sueeven when she had learned that Jenny and Lenora had driven to MissDearborn's.
"More'n that, she left an invite for _all_ of us to come to a party Mrs.Poindexter-Jones is givin' on Charles' birthday. Gwyn said she hoped I'dmake the chocolate cake with twenty-one layers like Harold wanted, justthe same, but we'd have the party over to the big house."
Jenny, at first, looked disappointed. Then her expression changed to oneof delight. Clasping her hands, she cried, "Oh, Grandma Sue, _that_ willbe a _real_ party, won't it, and I can wear the beautiful new dressLenora has given me. I was afraid I never, _never_ would have a chance towear it."
The old woman nodded. Then she confided: "Thar's some queer change hascome over Gwynette Poindexter-Jones, and I'll say this much for her,she's a whole sight nicer'n she _was_, for it, whatever 'tis. I reckonher ma's glad. I cal'late, on the whole, she's been sort o' disappointedin her."
Then Jenny astonished them by saying: "Gwyn is a beautiful girl. No oneknows how I want her to love me." Susan Warner looked up almostsuspiciously from the peas that she was shelling. That was a queer thingfor Jenny to say, and even after the girls had gone indoors, that Lenoramight rest, Susan Warner thought over and over again, now of the yearningtone in which Jenny had spoken, and then of the words, "No one knows howI _want_ her to love me." _What_ could it mean? There wasn't any possibleway for Jenny to know that she and Gwyn were sisters. Tears sprang toSusan's eyes unbidden. "If she ever learns that, she'll have to know Siand me ain't her grandparents." Then the old woman rebuked herselfishness. "I reckon Si was right when he said 'twouldn't make a miteo' difference in Jenny's carin' for us. Si said _nothing_ could." But herhands shook when, a few moments later, she dumped the shelled peas intothe pot of bubbling water that was waiting to receive them. Taking up onecorner of her apron, she wiped her eyes. Jenny had entered the kitchen.At once her strong young arms were about the old woman, and there wassweet assurance in her words: "Grandma Sue, I love you." Then, afterpressing her fresh young cheek for a long, silent moment against the onethat was softly wrinkled, the girl held the old woman at arm's length asshe joyfully cried, "Oh, Grandma Sue, isn't it wonderful, _wonderful_,that you and Grandpa Si and Lenora and I are going to a real party, thevery first one that I have ever attended?"
But the old woman protested. "Now, dearie, Grandpa Si an' me ain'tplannin' to go along of you young folks. 'Twouldn't be right, no ways youlook at it, us bein' hired by Mrs. Poindexter-Jones."
The brightness faded from Jenny's flower-like face. She stepped back andshook a warning finger at her companion. Her tone expressed finality."Very well, Mrs. Susan Warner, then we might as well take the party gownback to the shop it came from, for, if you and Granddad aren't goodenough to attend Gwynette's party, neither am I. So the matter issettled."
"What's the argifyin'?" a genial voice inquired from the open door, andthere, coming in with a brimming pail of milk, was Grandpa Si.
Jenny turned and flung at him her ultimatum. The old man pushed his strawhat back on his head and his leathery face wrinkled in a smile. "Ma," hesaid, addressing his wife, "I reckon I'd be on your side if 'twan't thatI give my word of honor to Harry and Charles, and now it's give, I'll notgo back on it. They said 'twouldn't be no party to them if you'n meweren't at it. An' what's more, Mrs. Poindexter-Jones sent Harry overspecial to give us a bid."
Jenny nodded her golden brown head emphatically. "There, now, that'ssettled. Oh, good, here's Lenora, looking fresh as a daisy from her longnap." Then, beaming at the pretty newcomer, she exclaimed, "Come thisway, Miss Gale, if you want to see Grandma's masterpiece."
"Tut, tut, Jenny-gal; 'twan't me that prettied it up," the old womanprotested. Jenny threw open a pantry door, and there, on a wide shelf,stood a mountain of a chocolate cake. "Honestly, there are twenty-onelayers. They're thin, to be sure, but light as feathers, for I ate up thesample. And the chocolate filling is just foamy with whipped cream."
"How beautiful it is." There were tears in Lenora's eyes, as she addedwistfully: "How I wish our dear mother could see the cake you have madefor her son's twenty-first birthday."
Then, going closer, she added, admiringly, "Why, Jenny, however did youmake those white frosted letters and the wreath of flowers? They looklike orange blossoms."
Jenny flashed a smile of triumph around at her grandparents. "There," sheexclaimed, "doesn't _that_ prove that I am an artist born? Miss Galerecognizes flowers. See, here is the spray I was copying. We're going toput a wreath of real blossoms around the edge of the plate."
"But I thought orange blossoms meant a wedding--" Lenora began. Shewondered if Charles' secret was known, but Jenny, in a matter of factway, replied: "A twenty-first birthday is equally important. Our onlyother choice would have been lemon blossoms, and, somehow, _they_ didn'tseem quite appropriate."
Grandma Sue had again busied herself at the stove, while Grandpa Sistrained the milk.
"Come, girls," she now called, "everything's done to a turn. You'll bewantin' a deal o' time to prink, I reckon."
The old man removed his straw hat, washed at the sink pump, and, as hewas rubbing his face with the towel, his eyes twinkled above it.
"I cal'late it'll take quite a spell for me'n you to rig up for this hereball, Susie-wife," he said as he took his place at the head of the table.
The old woman, at the other end, shook her gray curls as she protested:"I sort o' wish yo' hadn't been so hasty, makin' a promise on your honorlike that to Harry. We'll feel old-fashioned, and in the way, I reckon."
"Wall, I'm sort o' squeamish about it myself, but the word of Si Warnercan't be took back." The old man tried to assume a repentant expression.
"You're a fraud, Grandpa Si!" Jenny laughed across at him. "I can see bythe twinkle in your eyes that you intend to lead the dance tonight."
* * * * * * * *
Such a merry, exciting time as they had in the two hours that followed.Jenny insisted on helping her grandparents to dress in
their best beforeshe donned her party gown. Grandma Sue had a black silk which had beenturned and made over several times, but, being of the best of material,it had not grown shabby.
"Old Mrs. Jones gave it to me," she told Lenora, "when Si and I werefiggerin' on gettin' married." Susan Warner's cheeks were apple-red withexcitement.
"Oh, Grandma Sue," Lenora suddenly exclaimed, "I have the prettiestcreamy lace shawl. It belonged to my grandmother, and there's ahead-dress to go with it. She'd just love to have you wear it. Won't you,to please me?"
"I cal'late I will if you're hankerin' to have me." Lenora darted to hertrunk and soon returned with a small but very beautiful shoulder shawl ofcreamy lace, and a smaller lace square with a pale lavender bow which sheplaced atop of Susan Warner's gray curls. Grandpa Si arrived, dressed inhis best black, in time to join in the general chorus of admiration.
"Grandma Sue, you'll be the belle of the ball!" Jenny kissed both of theflushed cheeks, then flew to her room, for Lenora was calling her to makehaste or their escort would arrive before they were ready. And that wasjust what happened, for, ten minutes later, wheels were heard without,and a big closed car stopped at the side porch. Harold bounded in, and,when he saw Grandma Sue, he declared that none of the younger guestswould be able to hold a candle to her. "It's a blarneyin' batch you are."The old woman was nevertheless pleased. A moment later Jenny appeared,arrayed in her blue silk party gown, her glinting gold-brown hair done uphigher than ever before, and her flower-like face aglow. For a momentHarold could not speak. He had not dreamed that she could be sobeautiful. Then Lenora came, looking very sweet indeed in a rose chiffon.
"Silas," Grandma Sue directed, "you'll have to set up front, along ofHarry, an' hold the cake on you're knees. I do hope 'twon't slide off.It's sort o' ticklish, carryin' it."
But in due time the big house was reached, and the cake was left at thebasement kitchen door. Jenny felt a thrill of excitement course over her,yet even she could not know how momentous _that_ evening was to be in her_own_ life.
CHAPTER XXXVI. SISTERS
The big house was brilliantly illuminated and yet there were delightfultwilight nooks, half hidden behind great potted palms which had come froma florist's in Santa Barbara. Guests had been arriving in motors from thebig city all the afternoon. Gwynette was in her element. Tom Pinkerton,the roommate of Charles, had been summoned by phone to round up a few oftheir classmates, and be there for the gala occasion. Gwyn had askedPatricia, Beulah and a few other girl friends, while Harold had senttelegraphic invitations to his pals at the military school. There hadonly been two days to perfect arrangements, but had there been a week,the big house could not have been more attractively arrayed, for thewisteria arbor was in full bloom and great bunches of the graceful whiteand purple blossoms filled every vase and bowl in the house.
There were flowers in each of the ten guest rooms where the young peoplewho had arrived in the afternoon had rested until the dinner hour.
* * * * * * * *
The musical chimes were telling the hour of eight when Harold led hiscompanions into the brilliantly lighted hall and up to the rooms wherethey were to remove their wraps. Jenny glanced through the wide doubledoors into the spacious parlors and library where the chairs and loungeshad been placed around the walls, leaving the floor clear for dancing.Beautifully dressed girls and young men in evening clothes saunteredabout in couples visiting with old friends and meeting others. Jenny didnot feel real. She had often read stories describing events like thisone, and she had often imagined that she was a guest. She almost had topinch herself as she was ascending the wide, softly-carpeted stairway tobe sure that _this_ was real and not one of her dreams.
When they had removed their wraps and had descended, they were greeted byMrs. Poindexter-Jones, who, beautifully gowned, sat in her wheeled chair,with Gwynette, lovely in a filmy blue chiffon, standing at her side. MissDane had reluctantly consented to permit her patient, who had grownstronger very rapidly in the last few days, to remain downstairs for onehour.
When the hidden orchestra began to play, Miss Dane pushed the invalidchair to a palm-sheltered nook, wherein Susan Warner and her good man hadat once taken refuge, and there, at their side, the patrician woman satwatching the young people dance, talking to her companions from time totime. Then she asked Miss Dane to tell her daughter that she would liketo speak to her. "I don't see her just now. You may find her in her room.She had forgotten her necklace."
Miss Dane, after glancing about at the dancers, went upstairs. There wassomeone in the room where the wraps had been removed. Rushing in the opendoor, the nurse said: "Miss Gwynette, your mother wishes to speak toyou."
The girl turned and, smiling in her friendly way, said, "You aremistaken, Miss Dane. I am Jenny Warner."
Miss Dane hesitated, gazing intently at the apparition before her."Pardon me, Miss Warner," she then said. "It must be because you and MissGwynette are both wearing blue that you look so much alike."
She turned away and met Gwyn just ascending the stairway. The nurse hadbeen so impressed with the resemblance that she could not refrain fromexclaiming about it. "Really," she concluded, "you two girls look nearenough alike to be sisters."
Gwyn did not feel at all complimented, and her reply was coldly given."Tell Mother that I will come to her as soon as I get my necklace."
Jenny was leaving the bedroom, whither she had gone for her handkerchief,just as the other girl was entering. One glance at the haughty, flushedface of her hostess and the farmer's granddaughter knew that something ofa disturbing nature had occurred, but she did not dream that she was inany way concerned in the matter. She was very much surprised to hear Gwynsaying in her haughtiest manner: "Miss Warner, my mother's nurse tells methat she spoke to you just now, believing that you were me. I recall thatthe girls in the seminary once alluded to a resemblance they pretended tosee. Will you do me the favor to stand in front of this long mirror withme, that I may also find the resemblance, if there is one, which Idoubt!"
Jenny, her heart fluttering with excitement, stood beside the older girland gazed directly at her in the mirror.
Gwyn continued, appraisingly: "Our eyes are hazel and we both have lightbrown hair, but so have many other girls. I cannot understand, can you,why Miss Dane should have said that we look near enough alike to besisters."
On an impulse Jenny replied, "Yes, Gwynette, I can understand, because we_are_ sisters."
Instantly Jenny regretted having revealed the long kept secret, forGwynette sank down on a lounge near her, her hand pressed to her heart,every bit of color receding from her face until she was deathly pale.
Jenny, all solicitude, exclaimed: "Oh, are you going to faint? I oughtnot to have told you. But you asked me! Forgive me, if you can."
There was a hard, glinting light between the arrowed lids of the oldergirl. "Jenny Warner, I do _not_ believe you! Why should _you_ know moreof _my_ parentage than I do myself?"
Sadly Jenny told the story. She deeply regretted that her impulsivenesshad rendered the revelation necessary. "One stormy day, several yearsago, while I was rummaging around in the attic of the farmhouse, I foundpushed way back in a dark cobwebby corner a small haircloth trunk whichinterested me. I did not think it necessary to ask permission to open it,as I did not dream that it held a secret which my dear grandparents mightnot wish me to discover, and so I dragged it over to the small window.Sitting on one of the broken backed chairs, I lifted the lid. The firstthing that I found was a darling little Bible, bound in soft leather. Itwas quaint and old-fashioned. Miss Dearborn had taught me to love oldbooks, and I at once looked for the date it had been published, when twothings dropped out. One was a photograph. There were four in the group.The man was young and reminded me of Robert Burns; his companion was avery beautiful girl, and yet under her picture had been written 'Mother'and under the other 'Father.' I judged that was because with them weretwo children. Bene
ath them was written, 'Gwynette, aged three; Jeanette,just one today.' And then there was the date. The other was an unfinishedletter, written in purple ink that had faded. Its message was very sad,for it told that the girl-mother had died and the young wanderingmissionary, our father, feared that he had not long to live because offrequent heart attacks. He wanted his little girls to know that they cameof a New England family that was above reproach, the Waterburys ofWaltham, Mass.
"How well I remember the last message that dear hand had been able towrite. 'My darling little baby girls, I have had another of those dreadattacks, but I do want to say with what strength I have left, as theyears go by, love ye one another.' That was all. Then the pen had fallen,I think, for there was a blot and an irregular blurred line of ink."
Gwyn, crushed with an overwhelming sense of self-pity, had buried herhead in the soft silken pillows at one end of the lounge and was sobbing,but Jenny did not try to comfort her, believing that she could not, andso she continued: "I put the letter and the photograph into the littleold Bible and replaced it. Then I dragged the haircloth trunk back intoits dark corner. I was greatly troubled to know whether or not I ought totell grandmother what I had learned. I asked the advice of my dearteacher and she said: 'Do not tell at present, Jeanette. If yourgrandmother does not wish you to know, perhaps it would be wiser to waituntil she tells you. Then she told me that she had a college friendliving in Waltham, and that she would make inquiries about our family. Intime the reply came. Our father's father and grandfather had beenministers in high standing, philanthropists and scholars. Our father hadbeen the last of the family, and, as they had given all they had to thepoor, there was no money to care for us. Oh, Gwynette!"
Jenny touched the other girl ever so tenderly on the shoulder. "Howgrateful I have been; how very much more I have loved my dear adoptedgrandparents since I realized what they had saved me from. Had they nottaken me into their home, and shared with me the best they had, I wouldhave been sent to a county orphanage, and no one knows to what fate."
Gwynette was sitting erect, her hands crushingly clasped together. Jennypaused, wondering what she would say. It was a sincere cry of regret."Oh, to think how ungrateful I have been to that wonderful woman who hasgiven me every advantage and who would have loved me like an own daughterif I had not been so selfish, ever demanding more."
Gwyn turned and held both hands out to her companion. "Jenny, forgive me.I am not worthy to call you sister. From this hour, forever, let us carryout our father's last wish. Let us truly love one another."
Rising, she went to her jewel box, took from it the necklace for whichshe had come, and turning, she slipped it about the neck of hercompanion. Kissing her flushed cheek, she said: "Sister, this is my firstgift to you. Keep it forever in remembrance of this hour." Then, afterremoving all traces of tears, she held out her hand, saying: "Come, dear,let us go down together."
Mrs. Poindexter-Jones had wanted to ask Gwynette if she would like tohave her engagement announced at this party. The woman was amazed to seethe girl's lips quivering. Gwyn bent low to listen, then, afterassenting, she said in a low voice, tense with feeling. "Mother, I loveyou."
Jenny had slipped at once to the side of Susan Warner, and held herwrinkled old hand in a loving clasp. There was an expression in her facethey had never seen before.
Charles Gale, seeing that his fiance had returned, went at once to herside. The music had stopped, and Miss Dane pushed the invalid chairforward. The dancers, standing in groups about, were hushed, realizingthat an announcement of some kind was to be made.
Mrs. Poindexter-Jones spoke clearly: "Friends of my daughter and of myson, I have the great pleasure of announcing Gwynette's engagement to ayoung man of whom we are very proud, Charles Gale of Dakota." Not oneword about English ancestry. Mrs. Poindexter-Jones truly had changed.Then before the guests could flock about the young couple to congratulatethem, Gwynette had quickly stepped back, and taking Jenny by the hand,she led her out to where Charles was standing. Slipping an arm lovinglyabout the wondering girl, Gwyn said, "And I wish to introduce to you allmy own dear sister, Jeanette."
THE END
Transcriber's Notes
--Copyright notice provided as in the original printed text--this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.
--Added a Table of Contents.
--Silently corrected palpable typos and inconsistent proper names; left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged.
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