A Flock of Girls and Boys Part 23

"I haven't neglected you."

"Well, snubbed me, then."

"Nor snubbed you. I only want to be considerate and polite to Esther; that's all."

"What a horrid name she has! Did you ever think of it, Laura--Esther Bodn--Bodn?"

"I don't think it's horrid at all. I like it."

"B-o-d-n--Bodn--it sounds awfully common."

"Why, Kitty, it's spelled B-o-w-d-o-i-n, the same as our Bowdoin Street, and p.r.o.nounced Bod'n, as that is!"

"Is it, really? I didn't know that."

"I'm sure Bowdoin Street sounds well enough."

"Well, yes, I've always rather liked the sound of it; but then, you know, I always _saw_ and _felt_ the spelling, when I saw it. What in the world was the p.r.o.nunciation ever snipped off like that for? It ought to be p.r.o.nounced just as it is spelled. I've a good mind to p.r.o.nounce it so the next time I speak to Esther."

"No, I wouldn't do that; but you might _think_ of her as Miss Bowdoin,"

answered Laura, dryly.

"Oh, Laura, what a head full of wisdom you've got! I don't see how I ever lived without you. But--see here, tell me what street Miss Bowdoin lives in."

Laura hesitated a moment; then answered, "McVane Street."

"Where is McVane Street, for pity's sake? I never heard of it,--one of those horrid South End streets, I suppose?"

"No, it is at the West End, beyond Cambridge Street, down by the Ma.s.sachusetts Hospital."

"No, no, Laura Brooks, you _don't_ mean that she lives down there by the wharves?"

"It isn't by the wharves," cried Laura, indignantly.

"Well, it isn't far off. One of the regular old tumble-down streets, given up long ago to cobblers and tinkers of all kinds, and you're going to take tea with a girl who lives in that frowsy, dirty place!"

"It isn't frowsy and dirty. It's only an old, unfas.h.i.+onable street, but not frowsy or dirty. It's quite clean and quiet, and has shade-trees and little gra.s.s plots to some of the houses. Why, it used to be the court end of the town years ago."

"So was North Bennet Street, and all the rest of the North End; and now it's turned over to the rag-tag of creation,--Russian Jews, and every other kind of a foreigner,--and look here!" suddenly interrupting herself, as a new idea struck her, "I'll bet you anything that this Esther Bodn is a foreigner,--an emigrant herself of some sort."

"Kitty!"

"Yes, I'll bet you a pair of gloves,--eight-b.u.t.toned ones,--and I don't believe her name is spelled at all like our Bowdoin Street. I believe they--her mother and she--spell it that way _to suit themselves_. I believe it's just Bodn; and that is an outlandish foreign name, if I--"

"Kitty, I think it's positively wicked for you to talk like this,--it's slander."

Kitty laughed, and, wagging her head to and fro, sang in a merry little undertone,--

"Taffy is a Welshman, Taffy is a thief Flaunting as a Yankee man; that's my belief."

Laura couldn't help joining in this laugh, Kitty was so droll; but the laugh died out in the next breath, as she said,--

"Now, Kitty, don't go and talk like this to the other girls; don't--"

"Laura, how _did_ it ever come about that the Bodn invited you to tea?"

interrupted Kitty.

"It came about as naturally as this: One day I was going along Boylston Street, and just as I got to the public library I met Esther coming out with her arms full of books. I joined her, and insisted upon carrying some of the books for her; and after a little hesitation she accepted my offer, and led the way across the Common to the opposite gateway upon Charles Street. Here she stopped, and held out one hand for the books, and said, 'It was so kind of you to help me. Thank you very much.'

"'But I'm not going to leave you here,' I said; 'I'll walk home with you.' 'But it's a long walk to where I live,' she answered. I told her I didn't think anything of a long walk, and insisted on going further with her. I felt sorry, however, a minute after, for I saw that I had made a mistake,--that she didn't want me to go with her; but I didn't know how to turn back at once then, as she had started up briskly at my insistence with another 'Thank you.' But when we turned into Cambridge Street, I began to understand why she didn't want me,--she felt sensitive and afraid of my criticism; and I don't wonder--"

"Nor I, either," struck in Kitty, in a flippant tone.

"I should have felt sensitive," went on Laura, pityingly, "and I was so sorry for her; but I was determined to keep on then, and seem to take no notice, and somehow make her understand that it made no difference to me where she lived. I felt sorrier and sorrier for her, though, as she went on down Cambridge Street, past all those liquor and provision and second-hand furniture shops, with the tenements over them, and I was so thankful for her when she turned out of all this, and we crossed over and went into a quiet old street, and came out upon the pretty grounds of the Ma.s.sachusetts Hospital; and as soon as I saw these grounds, I said, 'Oh, how pretty!' and then we turned again, and it was into the street opposite the hospital. It was almost as quiet as the country there. There were no shops at all, and the houses, though they looked old, were in very good repair, and some of them had been freshly painted, and had little gra.s.s plots beside them; and it was before one of these that Esther stopped, and then she said, 'If we had come over the hill, the way would have been pleasanter,' and I said just what I felt,--that I thought it was very pleasant, anyway, when you got there, and that the sunset must be beautiful from the windows. She was taking the books from me as I said this, and she looked up at me for a second, as if she were studying me, and then she asked me if I would like to come in some bright day, and see her and the sunsets,--that they were very beautiful from the upper windows. I told her I would like to come very much, and thanked her for asking me; and then I kissed her, for--"

"And struck up an intimate friends.h.i.+p at once," burst in Kitty, laughing.

"No, for this was some weeks ago, and she's only just asked me to set the day when I could come. Oh, Kitty, you may make fun all you like; but she is a very interesting girl,--my mother thinks she is too."

"Oh, you've introduced her to your mother, have you?"

"I have told mamma about her, and I brought her in one afternoon to see the pictures,--she's very fond of pictures,--and mamma asked her to stay to luncheon, but she couldn't."

"And now it is you who are going to make the first visit, going to sunsets and tea on McVane Street!"

"Laura! Laura!" called a voice here; and Laura looked up, to see her brother Jack in his T-cart pulling up at the curbstone. The next minute she was whirling off with him, bowing good-by to Kitty; and Kitty was calling after her mischievously,--

"Laura, Laura, tell your brother you are going to take tea with a girl who lives on McVane Street!"

CHAPTER II.

The spirited horse that young Jack Brooks drove held his attention so completely at that moment that he had no time to bestow upon anything else; but when he was well out on the broad, clear roadway of the "Neck," he turned to his sister, and asked, "What did Kitty Grant; mean by your going to take tea with a girl who lives on McVane Street?"

"It is one of the girls at Miss Milwood's school,--Esther Bodn."

"How does a girl who lives on McVane Street come to go to Miss Milwood's school?"

"She a.s.sists Miss Milwood." And Laura told what she knew of Esther's a.s.sistance in the way of the French and German.

"Oh!" and the young man gave a satisfied sort of nod as he uttered this, as much as to say, "That explains it;" and then, dismissing the subject from his mind, turned his whole attention again to his horse, while Laura drew a deep breath of relief. She had begun to think that if her brother were to take up Kitty's cry against McVane Street, she might find her antic.i.p.ated visit set about with thorns. "But I shall go, I shall go!" she said to herself, "whatever Jack may say, when mamma says that I may."

But Jack said no more on that occasion, nor when his mother, the next day at luncheon, asked Laura what time Miss Bodn expected her, did the young gentleman make any remark. He had evidently forgotten the matter altogether; and Laura, without further anxiety, set out upon her little journey to McVane Street.

Kitty Grant had laughed that morning when Laura had told her that she was to go to Esther's at four o'clock and leave at six, that she might be in time for her own dinner hour,--had laughed and said, "Oh, a regular 'four-to-six,'--a sunset tea! The little Bodn is 'up' on 'sa.s.siety' matters, isn't she? Dear me, I wish _I_ could go with you,--I never went to a sunset tea. Couldn't you take me along?"