CHAPTER XVIII
Obeying Instructions
THE four girls were wonderfully excited all the next day. They wererestless in school and fidgety at home.
"A body would think," scoffed Aunty Jane, at noon, "that you were goingto your own wedding. Don't worry so. I'll have everything ready for youto put on the moment you get out of school."
"Oh, thank you," breathed Marjory, fervently. "That'll help a lot; butI do hope that Bettie's father will remember to do those cards. And,Aunty Jane, _could_ you lend me a perfectly inkless hankerchief?"
"Jumping January!" growled Wallace Mapes, Jean's older brother. "Thatmakes nineteen times, Jean, that you've reminded me of those miserableshoes. I'll black them when I've finished lunch. I'm not going to rushoff in the middle of my oyster soup to black _any_body's best shoes."
"Is it a reception?" asked Roger.
"No," replied Wallace, "just a formal call on Henrietta Bedford."
"She's in my French class," said Roger. "And kippered snakes! You oughtto hear her recite. She talks up and down and all around poor littleMiss McGinnis, whose French was made right here in Lakeville. It's adaily picnic."
"You won't forget my shoes, will you?" reminded anxious Jean.
"I'd like to know how I _could_," demanded Wallace, feelingly.
Although Mabel had taken a most complete bath the night before, shespent the noon-hour taking another. She put on her best stockings andshoes, but looked doubtfully at her Sunday suit.
"If I have to do my language in ink," reflected she, "it'll be all upwith my clothes. I'll just have to change after school."
The girls were out by half-past three. Fortunately, Miss Rossitorneeded no more cows that afternoon, so Bettie was home in good season.All four dressed speedily. Three of them got into their glovesunassisted; but Jean, Marjory and Bettie found plump, impatient Mabelseated on the piano stool with her mother working over one hand, herperspiring father over the other. Several other gloves that had provedtoo small were scattered on the floor.
"You needn't think," said Mabel, greeting her friends with anexpressive grimace, "that _I_ ever picked out these lemon-coloredfrights. Somebody sent 'em for Christmas. None of the pretty ones werebig enough--I've tried four pairs."
"Neither are these," returned Mrs. Bennett, "and the color certainlyis outrageous, but it's Hobson's choice. And just remember, Mabel, ifyou touch a single door-knob they'll be black before you get there.And don't put your hands in your pockets. And _please_ don't rub themalong the fences. There! Mine's on as far as it will go."
THE DECIDEDLY DEPRESSED FOUR STARTED DOWN THE STREET.]
"I guess you'd better finish this one," said Dr. Bennett, abandoninghis task. "I rather tackle a case of smallpox than wrestle with anotherjob like that. She'd look much better in mittens."
"Mittens!" snubbed Mabel. "You can't make formal calls in mittens! Now,Somebody, please put me into my jacket and hat, if I'm not to touchanything."
The decidedly depressed four, in their Sunday best, started down thestreet. Mabel's gloves, owing to their brilliant color, were certainlyconspicuous, and unconsciously she made them more so by the careful andrigid manner in which she carried them. It was plain that she had themvery much on her mind. And when her hat tilted forward over one eye sheleft it there rather than risk damaging those immaculate lemon-huedgloves.
"Take my muff," implored Marjory. "That yellow splendor lights upthe whole street."
"No, siree," declined Mabel. "If Mrs. Slater wants gloves she's goingto have 'em. Do you think I'm going to suffer like this and not have'em _show_?"
So Mabel, a swollen, imprisoned but gorgeous hand dangling at eachside, a big navy-blue hat flopping over one eye, strutted muffless downthe street.
"That's the house," announced Jean, as they turned the corner. "Thatbig one with the covered driveway."
"Ugh!" shuddered Marjory, "it gives me chills to think of ringing sucha wealthy doorbell. Are the cards safe, Bettie? My! I hope you haven'tlost them."
"In my pocket in an envelope," assured Bettie.
"Can you see any white?" queried Jean, nervously. "I think my toppetticoat has broken loose."
"It seems all right," said Marjory, stooping to test it with littlesharp jerks. "Firm as the Rock of Gibraltar."
"It won't be if you pull like that," objected Jean.
"Somebody open the gate," requested Mabel. "I can't touch things."
"Everybody stand up straight," commanded Marjory. "We must look ourbest when we go up the walk."
"I wish I hadn't come," demurred Bettie, hanging back, diffidently."Let's wait till it's darker."
"No," asserted Jean. "We'd better get it over."
"Yes," agreed Mabel, "I don't want to wear these gloves a minute longerthan I have to."
"All right," sighed Bettie, despondently, "but you go first, Jean."
They had waited on the imposing doorstep for a long five minutes whenit occurred to Marjory to ask if any one had pushed the bell.
"No," replied Jean, with a surprised air. "I thought _you_ had."
"And I," said Bettie, "supposed that Mabel had."
"How could I," demanded Mabel, hotly, "in these gloves?"
And then, all four began to giggle. Never before had such aninopportune fit of helpless, hysterical giggling seized the Cottagers.No one could stop. Tears rolled down Mabel's plump cheeks, and,fettered by her lemon-colored gloves, she had to let them roll, untilBettie wiped them away. And that set them all off again. In the midstof it Marjory's sharp elbow inadvertently struck the push-bell andSimmons, the imposing, much-dreaded butler, opened the door. Instantlythe giggling ceased. Four exceedingly solemn little girls filedinto the big hall. Bettie groped nervously for her pocket, found itand endeavored to extract the cards. But the large, stiff envelopestuck and, for a long, embarrassing moment, Bettie fumbled in vain;while the butler, his chin "very high and scornful" as Marjory saidafterwards, waited.
At last the cards were out. Diffident Bettie dropped them, envelope andall, on the extended plate; but Jean deftly seized the envelope andshook out the cards. Next followed a most unhappy moment. Simmons wasevidently expecting them to do _something_, they hadn't the remotestidea what.
Then, to their great relief, there was a sudden "swish" of silkenskirts, a flash of scarlet and lively Henrietta, who had slid down thebroad banister, was greeting them warmly.
"Grandmother's out," said she. "Come up to my room and have a realvisit before she gets back. Simmons, just toddle down to the lowerregions for some fruit and anything else you can find; send them up tomy room."
Something very like a smile flitted across Simmons's woodencountenance. Perhaps it amused him to be ordered to "toddle."
"Do you like my new gown?" queried Henrietta, leading the way upstairsand flirting her accordion-pleated skirts in graceful fashion. "It's mydinner dress. I have to dress for dinner every night--such a fuss forjust two of us. Come in here--this is my sitting-room."
"How very odd," said Jean, finding her voice at last.
"Isn't it?" laughed Henrietta, shaking her brown curls. She wore themtied back with two enormous black bows. "Grandmother's a mixtureof everything, you know--French, English, New York Dutch--and herfurniture shows it. Lots of it came from Europe and Father picked upthings in India and China--such a jolly dad as he is. That's why thisplace is such a jumble."
"I like it," declared Jean. "It looks interesting--as if there werelovely stories in it."
"There are," said Henrietta, drawing aside a heavy, silken curtain,"and I keep making new ones to fit. This is my bedroom, this next oneis my dressing-room and this is my bath."
"Ugh!" shuddered Mabel, "do you take shower baths?"
"Every morning," laughed Henrietta.
"What a lovely dressing table!" exclaimed Bettie, peering into the ovalmirror and smiling into her own dark eyes. "I never saw such prettythings, even in a catalogue."
"It's French," said Henrietta, "but all those little jeweled boxes
camefrom Calcutta--Father just loves to buy little boxes with inlaid tops.Oh, here's Greta, with things to eat." Henrietta hastily swept herbelongings from a dainty little table and the smiling maid depositedthe heavy tray.
"Tangerines, nuts, figs and sponge cake," chattered Henrietta. "That'svery nice, Greta. Help yourselves to chairs, girls. Here's a tabouretfor you, little Marjory. Catch, Jean," and the merry little hostesstossed a golden tangerine to Jean. "Oh, wait," she added. "You mustn'ttake off your gloves or get them soiled, because Grandmother alwaysgets in about this time, and you know you must be very formal withGrandmother. I'll peel them for you. Now draw up closer. You mustn'tspot your gloves, so I'll feed you. First, a bit of sponge cake allaround. Now an almond. Now the orange. Oh, I'm forgetting myself! Nowmore sponge cake."
"This is fine," said Bettie. "I'm always hungry after school."
"So am I," said Jean.
"If I'd s'posed," said Mabel, "that formal calls were like this, I'dhave started sooner."
"Are you a different person every time anybody sees you?" asked Bettie,curiously.
"Why?" queried Henrietta.
"Because," explained Bettie, "you seem so very changeable. You're amischief in school, yesterday you seemed almost sad and to-day you'reso polite."
"Oh, _thank_ you," said Henrietta, rising to sweep a deep and very muchexaggerated courtesy. "Nobody _ever_ before said that I was polite."
"Miss Henrietta," said Greta, tapping at the door, "the carriage hasjust turned the corner."
"Follow me," said Henrietta, with an instant change of tone, as shehurriedly brushed the crumbs from her lap and pulled Mabel's jacketinto place. "Follow me and don't make a sound. It's time to be formal."
The Adopting of Rosa Marie Page 19
