Grace Harlowe's Problem

by Josephine Chase

  CHAPTER III

  PLANNING FOR THE FUTURE

  After the picnickers had finished luncheon they still sat about theremains of the feast, talking busily of what they hoped to accomplishduring the coming year.

  Elfreda was full of plans as to what she intended to do when she hadfinished her course in the law school and passed the bar. "When I'm afull-fledged lawyer----" she began.

  "You mean a lawyeress," corrected Emma. "Don't contradict me. Let meexplain. True the word's not in the dictionary. I just coined it. I'mgoing to teach it and its uses in my classes this fall. I shall begin byreferring to my friend, Miss J. Elfreda Briggs, the distinguishedlawyeress. That will excite the curiosity of my classes. Then instead ofsatisfying that curiosity as to Lawyeress Briggs' personal and privatehistory I shall gently lead them to a serious contemplation of the worditself. Once in use, I'll have it put in a revised edition of thedictionary. It's high time there were a few new words introduced intothe English language. I can make up beautiful ones and not half try.It's so easy."

  "And the faculty trusted her to teach English," murmured Miriam.

  There was a chorus of giggles at this observation, in which even Emmajoined.

  "Make up some new words now," challenged Julia Emerson.

  "Not when I'm on a picnic," refused Emma firmly. "'Work while you workand play while you play.' I came out to play."

  "Our play days end to-night," smiled Grace. "At least mine do."

  "Mine, too," echoed Arline. "Really, girls, you haven't any idea of howbusy settlement work keeps one. I spend several hours each day at therooms which Father let me have fitted up for a Girls' Club, and I visitthe very poor people, and almost every evening I have a class or ameeting. One evening I go to a little chapel on the East Side to tellstories to children, and I teach classes two other nights. There'salways something extra coming up, too. Father isn't exactly pleased overit. He thinks I work too hard. Now that Ruth is going to spend thewinter with me I'll make her help. She is the laziest person. She hasn'taccomplished a single thing since she found her father."

  "He wouldn't let me," defended Ruth. "It has been hard labor to persuadehim to allow me to stay in New York this winter. Besides I believe thatmy business of life, for the present, at least, is to try to make up forsome of the years we spent apart."

  "Good for you, Ruth," applauded Miriam. "You and I are of the same mind.Only I'm enlisted in the cause of a mother instead of a father. But allthis leads up to what I intended to tell you girls before we separated.We are going to New York City for the winter. David is going intobusiness there."

  "To New York!" came simultaneously from Arline and Grace. There weremurmurs of surprise from the other girls. J. Elfreda Briggs alone smiledknowingly.

  "What are we to do in Oakdale without you, at Christmas time, Miriam?"asked Grace mournfully. "The Eight Originals Plus Two can't celebrateunless you are with them. Somehow every year we've all managed to gatherhome at Christmas. Now if you go to New York to live next winter perhapsDavid won't be able to leave his business, and your mother will need youand----"

  "And do I live to hear Grace Harlowe borrowing trouble?" broke in EmmaDean. "Our intrepid, dauntless, invincible Grace!"

  "I'm afraid you do," admitted Grace. "I couldn't help mourning a little.It was all so sudden. Anne, aren't you astonished?"

  "Anne looks as though she'd known it a long while," observed Elfredashrewdly.

  "I knew David was going into business in New York," confessed Anne, herface flushing, "but I didn't know the rest."

  "Neither did I, until this morning," smiled Miriam.

  "It seems as though we are the only persons in this august body thathaven't any plans," declared Julia Emerson wistfully. "Here are Grace,Anne and Emma, regular salaried individuals. Arline is a busy littleworker. Miriam and Ruth are at least useful members of society, andElfreda is an aspiring professional. Sara and I are just the Emersontwins, with no lofty aims in view, or deeds of glory to perform."

  "You and Sara are not quite useless," comforted Emma. "Just think what acontinual source of inspiration you are to me. Some of my finestobservations on life have been prompted by my acquaintance with you."

  "I'm glad we are of some account in the world," grinned Sara. "I'dreally quite forgotten about you, Emma. Thank you so much for remindingme."

  "Oh, not at all," Emma beamed patronizingly upon her. "No matter howmuch others may malign you, I am still your friend."

  "Emma Dean, you ridiculous creature, why won't you take us seriously?"laughed Julia, but her voice still held an undercurrent of wistfulness."Does the fact that we are twins have this hilarious effect upon you?"

  "I wonder if that's the reason," murmured Emma. Then dropping her usualbantering tone, she fixed earnest eyes on the black-eyed twins."Seriously, Julia and Sara, I know just the way you feel about having noparticular life work picked out. When I went home after I was graduatedfrom Overton I hadn't the least idea of where I'd fit in in life. Then Ifound that Father needed my help, and I've been head over ears in workever since. One never knows what may happen, or how quickly one's workmay find one. It may not be what one would like it to be, but it willundoubtedly be the best thing in life for one, and one is likely to seeit coming around the corner at almost any minute."

  "That's very, very true." It was Grace who spoke. "Don't you rememberhow I worried about finding my work, and it walked directly up to me andintroduced itself on Commencement day?"

  "I never dreamed that the stage would put me through college and be mywork afterward," broke in Anne. "When first I went to Oakdale I supposedI had left it behind forever. But it must have been my destiny afterall."

  "I guess it's just about as well in the long run not to worry about whatyour work is going to be until it knocks at your door," observedElfreda. "Children are always planning and talking about what they'regoing to do and be when they grow up; then they always do somethingdifferent. What do you suppose I used to say I was going to be when Igrew up?"

  "Some perfectly absurd thing," anticipated Miriam. Eight pairs of amusedeyes fixed themselves expectantly on Elfreda.

  "Well," Elfreda chuckled reminiscently, "my aim and ambition was to be acook. Not because I was so deeply in love with cooking, but because Iliked to eat. No wonder I was fat. I used to haunt the kitchen on bakingdays and shriek with an outraged stomach afterward. The shriekingoccurred most frequently in the middle of the night. Then Ma would cometo my rescue, and I'd be forbidden to sample the baking again. So toconsole myself in my banishment I'd resolve that when I grew up I'd be acook and live in a kitchen all the time. I reasoned that if I _was_ acook I'd know how to make everything in the world to eat and could havewhat I pleased. Besides no one would dare tell me I couldn't have thisor that. This was all very consoling during the times I had to keep outof the kitchen. Generally in about a week's time Ma would relent, and,as our cook was fond of me, I'd be reinstated in my beloved realm ofeats. But it was during these periods of exile that my ambition alwaysrose to fever heat. Then our old cook got married, and I didn't like ournew one. She didn't appreciate my companionship on baking days. Our oldcook had always encouraged me in my ambition. She used to tell me longtales about the places where she had worked and the cooking feats shehad performed. The new cook said I was a nuisance, and complained to Ma.So my ambition died for lack of encouragement, but my appetite didn't. Ibecame an outlaw instead and made raids on the baking. So thatparticular cook and I were always at war. About that time Ma begangiving me a regular allowance, so I haunted the baker and candy shopsinstead of the kitchen, and the cook idea declined. In fact all I knowabout cooking now, I learned at Wayne Hall, in the interest of myfriends," she finished.

  Elfreda's reminiscence awoke a train of sleeping memories in the mindsof the others, and for the next hour the quiet woodland echoed withtheir mirth over the curious, quaint and ridiculous aims and fancies oftheir childhood. The talk gradually drifted back to
serious things andwent on so earnestly that it was well after four o'clock before theparty began to make reluctant preparations to return to the cottage.

  "It has been a perfect day and a perfect picnic," declared Grace as shesmiled lovingly at her friends. "We'll never forget Elfreda's houseparty."

  "I'm going to have you with me at this time every year if it ispossible," planned Elfreda. "So when September comes next year just markoff the last two weeks on the calendar as set aside for the Briggs'reunion and arrange your affairs accordingly. Is it a go?"

  "Hurrah for the Briggs' reunion," cheered Arline.

  The cheers were given and the picnickers started up the hill to wheretheir automobiles were stationed. Grace and Elfreda brought up the rearwith the luncheon hamper.

  "That's dear in you to ask us here every year, Elfreda," said Grace."It's a splendid way for us always to keep in touch with one another.You are forever doing nice things for others."

  "Others," retorted Elfreda, gruffly. "I'm the most selfish person thatever lived. I'm not planning half so much to make you girls happy as Iam to be happy myself. Every time I think that I might have gone to someother college and never have known you and Miriam and Anne, it nearlygives me nervous prostration. By the way, Grace, I have an idea Miriamis going to find her work pretty suddenly. I could see at commencementthat Mr. Southard was in love with her. She didn't know it then. Sheknows it now though, and she likes him."

  "You certainly _can_ see what is hidden from the eyes of the rest of us.How do you know she knows it?"

  "Oh, she was talking to me the other day about Anne, and she mentionedMr. Southard's name in a kind of self-conscious way, not in the leastlike her usual self. I could almost swear she blushed, but I couldn'tquite see that," grinned Elfreda.

  "I'm surprised," laughed Grace; then she added slowly, "I've known for along time that Mr. Southard was in love with Miriam. Anne discovered itat commencement, too. I hope Miriam _does_ love him. Somehow they seemso perfectly suited to each other. I never could quite fancy she andArnold Evans as being in love."

  "It looks as though you'd soon be the only unengaged member of theOriginals," remarked Elfreda innocently.

  Grace's face clouded. Elfreda had touched upon a sore subject. Justbefore leaving Oakdale on her visit to Elfreda she had seen Tom. He hadnot renewed his old plea, but Grace knew that he was still waiting andhoping for the words that would make him happy.

  "Elfreda," her voice trembled a little, "you know, I think, that Tomwishes me to marry him. I'm sorry, but I can't. I just can't. I supposeI'll be the odd member of the feminine half of the Originals, but Ican't help it. My work still means more to me than life with Tom, andI'm never going to give it up. So there."

  Elfreda nodded. Her nod expressed more than words, but secretly she hada curious presentiment that Grace would one day wake up to the fact thatshe had make a mistake. Still there was no use in telling her so. Itmight make her still more stubborn in her resolve. Elfreda greatlyadmired Tom, and, with her usually quick perception, had estimated himat his true worth. "He's worthy of her, and she's worthy of him," washer mental summing up, "and it strikes me that '_never_' is a prettylong time. Whether she can shut love out of her life forever, just forthe sake of her work, is a problem that nobody but Grace Harlowe cansolve."