Brenda's Ward Part 30

Let me know what you hear from Lucian."

Mr. Gamut's words were more cheering than anything Martine had heard for weeks, and in the few minutes that intervened before the arrival of his niece, he told her a number of interesting stories about earlier Cla.s.s Days.

"This is a larger gathering, this crowd around the statue, than we used to see at the tree. But give me the tree, and the wreath, and the wild scramble, and the torn flowers that the boys were almost ready to stake their lives for! Sometimes I am afraid we are making everything too refined; a little rough and tumble is good even for the most cultivated students. This confetti!--no, I don't care for it."

Mr. Gamut, on the arrival of his niece, departed to his place among the graduates. The niece was a girl whom Martine had known slightly at home.

She had recently come from Chicago, and in consequence, was able to tell Martine various bits of news, which, if not important, at least had some interest for one away from home.

After the ma.s.s of students had marched into the enclosure, and had given all the regulation Harvard cheers, Martine felt herself thoroughly imbued with the spirit of the day. She listened intently to the cheers, hummed the air of "Johnny Harvard" while the students sang it. When her own stock of confetti was exhausted, she helped Mrs. Redmond throw hers in the direction of Fritz.

"It's the prettiest sight I ever saw," she cried. "This wonderful s.h.i.+mmering network of ribbons--it's as if we had been caught in a rainbow--and if we were only a little farther away from people, they would seem like real fairies. Oh, I am glad I came!"

"I am glad that you are cheerful again," whispered Mrs. Redmond. "For a moment to-day, I feared that you were going to be blue."

"Well, it was only for a moment. Now I feel happy--almost as happy as Amy. Come, Amy dear, Fritz will never find you in this crowd. Let us return to his rooms as quickly as we can. The sooner we are there, the sooner we shall go on to the spread."

How Priscilla would have shuddered at the teasing tone that Martine used in addressing Amy. Even though she now understood Martine so much better than formerly, and, indeed, really loved her, Priscilla could not accustom herself to Martine's frivolity of speech and manner toward Amy.

Fortunately for her own feelings, Priscilla was safely at Plymouth at this particular moment, and Amy, whom Martine never offended, only smiled indulgently at the younger girl.

They had not long to wait at Fritz' pleasant rooms before he appeared, flushed and triumphant, accompanied by two or three friends.

"Wasn't it fine? We managed to bring you a few sprays of flowers. The bevy of beauty on the seats above almost blinded us. But for that we might have done better, although I can tell you, no one else got more; and we fairly had to fight our way out. Now we are ready to share our trophies. This for you, Amy, and Barton--yours, I believe, are for Miss Martine; but I forget, you have never met. Mr. Barton, Miss Stratford--I always forget that the men I know do not always know the girls I know.

But now, Barton, you will escort Mrs. Redmond and Miss Martine to our humble spread--and Helmer--ah, here they are--Miss Naylor, Miss Starkweather--let me present Barton and Helmer, and Jack Underwood. Now we can start--I thought your aunt was coming--ah! lost?"

"Of course she isn't lost, Kate," interposed the practical Elinor. "I am sure that I hear her on the stairs." And to prove that Elinor was right, a moment later the elder Miss Starkweather came panting into the room.

"You should have waited for me, girls; I had such a fright--I was sure you were lost!"

"Not lost--only gone before," interrupted Fritz. "I am sorry I shocked you, Amy," he whispered, catching her look of reproof. "Let us hurry on, ahead of the others."

Martine, walking with Fritz' friend, Barton, across the college yard, felt quite in her element. The young man was by no means bashful, and in a few moments the two were deep in a lively conversation. Martine's fatigue had pa.s.sed away. Family trials were forgotten.

Fritz Tomkins had united with four or five of his friends in giving a large spread in one of the modern halls outside the yard.

Secretly Martine thought the affair conventional, "like any afternoon tea, with flowers on the table, and candelabra, and all the fas.h.i.+onable bonbons."

"But you wouldn't see so many men at a mere tea, truly I think it's great fun," said the staid Elinor, snuggling into a corner beside Martine. "At the next game I shall hardly know what side I am on. I like Harvard so well, and your hat, Martine, the one I am wearing, you can't imagine how many compliments it has had. You were altogether too good to let me have it. Do you suppose I shall _ever_ find that trunk?"

Before Martine could reply, some one came to carry Elinor off for a walk. Martine, left to herself, eagerly watched everything around her.

"I wonder why Fritz pays more attention to Amy than to anyone else. He sees so much of her always that I should think to-day he'd look after other people. Now, I'm sure Amy isn't sentimental."

But just at this moment, Martine caught an expression on Fritz' face as he turned toward Amy that set her thinking. Rising to her feet, she hurried toward Mrs. Redmond.

"Tell me, please, how late you mean to stay. It's dark now, and the lanterns in the yard must be lit. I'd like to see the illumination, and hear the Glee Club sing, but I ought to be home by nine, please. I have a busy day before me."

"Just as you wish, my dear. I will speak to Amy."

A moment later, Amy, Fritz, and Elinor surrounded Martine, protesting against her departure, urging her to go with them to Memorial, to return with them to Fritz' rooms, to watch the illuminations; in short, to do anything but go home.

Martine, however, was firm, and when she started off for the yard with Mrs. Redmond, Mr. Barton went with them.

"It is a glimpse of fairyland," said Martine, as they strolled about through the crowd. "Why do these lines of lanterns make the yard look ten times its usual size? Why do these red lights make every one seem beautiful? Why--"

"Let me continue," interrupted Emmons Barton. "_Why_ won't you come over to Memorial? _Why_ must you hurry home?"

"Because I am Cinderella," responded Martine gayly. "Because I should hate to lose my gla.s.s slipper. Come, Mrs. Redmond, I am sure our car is waiting, if Mr. Barton will only find it for us."

CHAPTER XVIII

AT YORK

The morning after her arrival at York, Martine stood at the door of the little red farm-house. The air was fresh and cool, a delightful contrast to the last day or two of heat in the city that she had just left. A slight mist from the river softened without hiding the view. Through the rolling meadows that stretched before her across the road, she saw the thread of river winding its way toward the sea. The ocean itself was not in sight, though it made itself known in a certain agreeable saltness of odor that Martine quickly recognized.

Martine gazed across the meadows with a certain pleasant expectancy, such as any young girl in a new place is likely to feel. The houses in the distance looked attractive.

"I wonder if they are summer cottages, or if people really live there. I wonder who has this large house just across the road. It is rather handsome. I hope there are girls in the family. It must be very pleasant there, the garden seems to run down to the river. Our garden needs attention," she concluded, taking a few steps toward the flower beds, where a few stray geraniums and untrimmed rose-bushes were the sole adornments. After a few rather futile efforts to improve the appearance of these beds, Martine turned toward the house.

The red cottage, as she faced it, was far from imposing.

"It's like some of the roadside cottages I have seen in England and Wales. It isn't much larger. I'm glad that it is red instead of white--well I should have had to live in it just the same, but I should have hated a white house. A coat of red paint always makes a house seem picturesque," she concluded.

At this moment Angelina, in a pink calico in which she looked more gypsy-like than ever, ran down the little slope to meet Martine.

"Isn't it lovely," she said, "to be so near the road. We can see the electric cars pa.s.s by the corner over there, and hear the train. Didn't you notice the whistle this morning? I did, and it made me think of the city right off."

"I don't often hear an engine whistle in the city."

"Yes, but a steam-engine makes you think of the city. You know that you are not cut off from everything, and that sometime you can go back."

"Why Angelina, I hope that you are not homesick?"

There had been a suspicious quiver in Angelina's voice.

"Not exactly homesick, oh, no, I feel perfectly at home with you and Mrs. Stratford, but still--well, you see, Miss Martine, we haven't as many neighbors as we had in the city. I knew something about every family in the Belhaven, but here I don't see how I'll begin to get acquainted."

"Cheer up, Angelina," said Martine, pleasantly. "Don't let a little thing like that trouble you. A person of your sociable disposition can make acquaintances anywhere. But it's more dignified to proceed slowly.

You and I will be busy enough the next few days getting settled. I have an idea that mother may need us now."

"There," cried Angelina, as they stood inside the little entry. "It's small, Miss Martine, but it's real neat, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's neat," and Martine looked at the steep flight of stairs that almost tumbled down into the narrow hall, separating the two front rooms. "It's neat enough, but I am glad we have a strip of red carpet for the stairs. Uncarpeted, the paint might soon wear off, and besides they would be rather noisy. But are you sure that you have finished your kitchen-work, Angelina?"

"Well, I just haven't; I'm glad you reminded me." So Angelina hurried to the back of the house, where soon her voice was heard singing shrilly above the clatter of dishes.