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Brenda,
Her School and Her Club
BY HELEN LEAH REED
AUTHOR OF "MISS THEODORA," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY JESSIE WILLCOX SMITH
BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1900
_Copyright, 1900_, BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
_All rights reserved._
"THE CHILD HIMSELF, SURROUNDED BY A GROUP OF CURIOUS GIRLS, CLUNG TO NORA'S HAND"]
CONTENTS
I. FOUR FRIENDS
II. JULIA'S ARRIVAL
III. THE RESCUE
IV. A CLUB MEETING
V. MISS CRAWDON'S SCHOOL
VI. MISUNDERSTANDINGS
VII. VISITING MANUEL
VIII. PLANNING THE BAZAAR
IX. A MYSTERIOUS MANSION
X. A SOPHOMORE
XI. THE COOKING CLASS
XII. CONCERNING JULIA
XIII. GREAT EXPECTATIONS
XIV. THE FOOTBALL GAME
XV. A POET AT HOME
XVI. AN HISTORIC RAMBLE
XVII. THE ROSAS AT HOME
XVIII. MERRY CHRISTMAS
XIX. NORA'S THOUGHTLESSNESS
XX. FIDESSA AND HER MISTRESS
XXI. MISS SOUTH AND JULIA
XXII. BRENDA'S SECRET
XXIII. ALMOST READY
XXIV. AN EVENING'S FUN
XXV. THE BAZAAR
XXVI. GREAT EXCITEMENT
XXVII. A MISTAKE
XXVIII. EXPLANATIONS
XXIX. AFTER VACATION
XXX. BRENDA'S FOLLY
XXXI. THE SHILOH PICNIC
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"THE CHILD HIMSELF, SURROUNDED BY A GROUP OF CURIOUS GIRLS, CLUNG TONORA'S HAND"
"'OH, I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, GIRLS,--LET US WORK FOR--MANUEL!'"
"SHE WAS ABLE TO RUSH ON AND PICK THEM UP AS THEY WERE DASHED AGAINST ALAMP-POST"
"NOW AS JULIA SAT THERE DRINKING TEA FROM THE QUAINTEST OF OLD-FASHIONEDCHINA CUPS"
"'WHY, BRENDA BARLOW, WHY ARE YOU LYING IN THIS DOWNCAST POSITION?'"
BRENDA, HER SCHOOL AND HER CLUB
I
FOUR FRIENDS
"What do suppose she'll be like?"
"How can I tell?"
"Well, Brenda Barlow, I should think you'd have _some_ idea--your owncousin."
"Oh, that doesn't make any difference. I've hardly thought about her."
"But aren't you just a little curious?" continued the questioner, apretty girl with dark hair.
"No, Nora, I'm not. She's sixteen and a half--almost a year older thanwe are. She's never lived in a big city, and that's enough."
"Oh, a country girl?"
"I don't know that she's a country girl exactly, but I just wish shewasn't coming. She'll spoil all our fun."
"How?" asked a third girl, seated on the bottom step.
"Why, who ever heard of _five_ girls going about together? If three's acrowd, five's a perfect regiment. I agree with Brenda that it's too badto have her come. Now when there's four of us we can pair off and have agood time."
The last speaker had a long thin face with a determined mouth and largechina blue eyes. She was the only one of the four whom the averageobserver would not call pretty. Yet in her little circle she had her ownway more often even than Brenda, who was not only somewhat of a tyrant,but a beauty as well.
"Brenda and Belle They carry a spell,"
the other girls were in the habit of singing, when the two _Bs_ hadaccomplished something on which they had set their hearts. Edith, thethird of the group, in spite of her auburn hair, was the most amiable ofthe four. I say "in spite" out of respect merely to the popularprejudice. Nobody has ever proved that auburn hair really indicatesworse temper than hair of any other color. Edith almost always agreedwith any of the plans made by the others, and very often with theiropinions. Dark-haired Nora was the only one of the group who everventured to dissent from the two _Bs_. Now she spoke up briskly,
"I know that I shall like your cousin."
"Why?" the other three exclaimed in a chorus.
"I can't tell you _why_, only that I know I shall."
"You're welcome to," said Brenda, tossing her head, "but I guess if youhad just begun to have your own house to yourself you wouldn't likesomebody else coming that you'd have to treat exactly like a sister."
"Why, Brenda!" said Nora, with a look of surprise, and then the othersremembered that Nora had had a little sister near her own age whosedeath was a great sorrow to her.
"Why, Brenda!" repeated Nora, "I wish that I had a sister."
Now Brenda Barlow was not nearly as heartless as her words implied. Shehad two sisters whom she loved very dearly. But they were both mucholder than Brenda, and by petting and spoiling her they had to a largeextent helped to make her selfish. One of them had now been married forfour years, and had gone to California to live and the other was inParis completing her art studies. When Janet married, Brenda had notrealized the change in the family. But when Agnes went to Paris, Brendawas older, and she fully felt her own importance as "Miss Barlow."
"It's the same as being 'Miss Barlow,'" she said to her friends, "theservants call me so, and I've moved my things down into Janet's room. Ican invite any one I want to luncheon without asking whether Agnes hasany plans,--and I shouldn't wonder if I could have a dinner-party oncein a while--of course, not a _very_ late one, but with raw oysters tobegin with--sure--" and the other girls laughed, for they knew thatBrenda had been practising on raw oysters for a long time, and that shefelt proud of her present prowess in swallowing them without winking ormaking a face.
Mr. Barlow was generally absorbed in business affairs, and Mrs. Barlowhad so many social engagements that Brenda did as she wished in mostrespects. She ordered the servants about when her mother was out, andthey were as ready to obey her as her friends were to follow her lead,for when Brenda wanted her own way she never seemed ill-natured. Shesimply insisted with a very winning smile--and nobody could refuse her.
She had found it very pleasant to rule her little world. It was evenpleasanter than being the spoiled and petted child that she had beenwhen her sisters were at home. Her father and mother had never seen howfond she was growing of her own way until they announced the coming ofher cousin Julia.
"She is older than you, Brenda, and I hear that she is far advanced inher studies. I dare say that she will be able to help you sometimes."
"Oh, papa! I _hate_ to have any one help me. She'll be an awful bore, Isuppose, if she thinks she knows more than me----"
"Grammar, Brenda," said her mother with a smile.
"Well, then, more than _I_," repeated Brenda.
"I'm sure she won't be a bore, Brenda, but her life has been verydifferent from yours. She has led a quiet life, for you know she was herfather's constant companion until he died."
Here Mrs. Barlow sighed. Julia's mother was Mrs. Barlow's sister, andhad died when the little Julia was hardly five years old.
"Uncle Richard was always delicate?" ventured Brenda.
"Yes, dear, and he spent his life trying to find a place where he couldgain perfect health. Boston was too bleak for him, and that is why youhave not seen Julia since she was very little. Your uncle did not careto undergo the fatigue of traveling East even in the summer, and hecould not bear to be parted from Julia. But she was always a sweetlittle thing."
"I hope you won't be disapp
ointed in her," cried Brenda, half in atemper. "I believe you are going to care for her more than you do forme."
"Nonsense, Brenda," exclaimed her mother in surprise.
"Well, you can't expect me to feel the same about her,--a strangegirl--who knows more than I, and is just enough older to make every oneexpect me to look up to her. Oh, dear!"
Since Brenda had not concealed her feelings from her mother, it washardly to be expected that she would be less frank with her three mostintimate friends.
After Nora and Edith had bade Brenda good-bye that afternoon when theyhad talked about the unknown cousin, they walked rather slowly up thestreet.
"Do you suppose Brenda's jealous?" said Nora, in a half whisper.
"Oh, hush," answered Edith, to whom the word jealousy meant somethingdreadful. "Of course not."
"Well, don't you think it's strange for her not to feel more pleased atthe prospect of having her cousin with her. I should think it would begreat fun to have another girl in the house."
"Oh, well, Brenda can always have one of us. Her mother is so good aboutletting her invite people--and of course she can't tell how she'll getalong with her cousin. No, I really shouldn't like it myself."
As Nora and Edith walked away, Brenda turned to Belle, in whom shealways found a ready sympathizer.
"You know how I feel, Belle."
"Yes, indeed; I think it's too bad. I'm sure it will spoil half our fun.It's horrid anyway to have some one older than yourself ordering youround."
"Oh, I don't suppose she'll do that exactly."
"Well, it's just the same thing. If she's such a model, as your mothersays, she'll make you feel uncomfortable all the time. Then if she'swearing mourning, she can't do the things that you do, and you'll haveto stay at home and be polite to her. Yes, I'm really sorry for you,Brenda."
With sympathy like this, Brenda began to regard herself as almost amartyr.
"Oh, dear," she sighed, "why couldn't she have waited until next winter?Come, Belle," she continued, "you'll stay to dinner, won't you?"
Belle hesitated for a moment. "I suppose I _ought_ to go home."
"Oh, why?"
Belle was silent. She knew that certain unfinished lessons awaited her,and that her grandmother objected to her dining away from home, unlessshe had first asked permission. She fortified herself, however, bysaying to herself, "Oh, well, mother won't care." For her mother waswhat is commonly known as easy-going, and seldom interfered with herdaughter's goings and comings.
Belle always enjoyed dining with Brenda. The dining-room was soattractive with its great blazing fire, its heavy draperies and cheerfuloil-paintings on the wall. At home she sat down in a large, severelyfurnished room, with her solemn grandmother wrapped in a white knittedshawl at one end of the long table, her half-deaf uncle James at theother end, and her brother Jack on the side opposite her. Her delicatemother often dined upstairs. Uncle James usually had some story to tellof misdeeds that he had heard some one ascribe to Jack ("and how a deafperson can hear I don't see," Jack would say crossly to Brenda). Hergrandmother generally read Belle herself a lecture on paying properrespect to one's elders, or some similar subject, while Belle and Jackexchanged glances of mischievous intelligence, which often drew strongreproofs from their grandmother, and sometimes from her mother when shewas present.
No wonder, then, that Brenda's invitation was a strong temptation toBelle.
"Come, silence gives consent," laughed Brenda. Dragging Belle by thearm, she touched the door-bell, and in a moment the two girls wereinside the house.
"What room is Julia going to have?" asked Belle, as they ran up thefront stairs.
"Well, you _will_ be surprised; that's one of the things that makes meso cross. Just _think_ of it, Agnes's rooms in the L--that sweet littlestudio that I wanted mamma to let me have--it's all fitted up for Julia.Don't you call that mean?" Belle pressed her friend's hand.
"You poor thing!"
"Yes, it seems Agnes is sure not to come home for two years, and somamma thought the studio would be a good place for Julia to practice in,and so there's a piano and--well--let's come and see. We've got timebefore dinner."
Pushing open a door on the second floor and going down a step or two,Brenda and Belle found themselves inside a little reception-room. Thewalls were a deep red, there was a cashmere rug on the polished floor, aclock and two bronze figures on the mantelpiece. An open bookcase in onerecess, a short lounge in the other, a low wicker tea-table, and two orthree small chairs made up the furnishing.
"This is just the same as it was," said Brenda, "and so is thebedchamber," pointing to a door on the left of the reception-room, "butsee here!" and she turned to the right. Belle followed, and they foundthemselves in a long, narrow room, with a bay window at one end and askylight overhead. On the walls were several large unframed sketches inblack and white, together with water colors and a number of finephotographs and engravings in gilt or ebony frames. Against the wallnear the bay window stood a small upright piano with an elephant's clothscarf over the top. The groundwork of the scarf was of a deep yellow,harmonizing with the tint of the painted walls. There were two or threecomfortable chairs covered in yellow-flowered chintz, and in the centrean inlaid library table with a baize top and an assortment of writingutensils. There were several rugs of a prevailing yellow tint on thepolished yellow floor, and one side of the room was occupied by rows oflow open book-shelves which held, however, only a few books.
"I believe Julia's going to have her father's library brought here,"said Brenda, in explanation of the empty shelves. "Don't you _hate_book-worms?"
"Yes," responded Belle, "but how _lovely_ this room is! What a _shame_that you couldn't have it yourself! Why, I thought your mother said thatthey were going to leave the studio just as it was until Agnes camehome."
"Well, so they were, but she won't be home for two years, and thenshe'll probably have a studio down town, and so they've put most of herthings away and fitted up this room just for Julia. _She_ has to haveeverything."
"I know just how you feel," and Belle pressed Brenda's handsympathetically. "But then, your own room is lovely."
"Oh, yes, of course; but it isn't the same thing as a studio. A studiois so--so artistic."
The girls were standing in the bay window, bathed in a flood of sunshinefrom the setting sun. They glanced across the broad river toward theroofs and spires of Cambridge. A tug-boat went puffing along the streamtowing a schooner loaded with lumber.
"Oh, my, it must be late! the sun is just dropping behind thoseBrookline Hills. Come up to my room."
The room on the floor above the studio which had formerly been Janet's,also overlooked the river. It was in the main house and its windowslooked down on the roof of the L containing the studio. In fact, thestudio to a slight extent impeded the view of the river which wasobtainable from this upper room. But the room itself was large andcheerful, with a carpet and paper of bluish tint, a large brass bedsteadcanopied with blue, comfortable lounging chairs, a dainty little sofa,dressing-table, desk, and all kinds of pretty ornaments. A half-opendoor showed the adjoining dressing-room with its long pier-glass, and acoal fire blazed in the open grate.
"Make yourself comfortable," said Brenda hospitably, "for if you don'tmind, I'm going to write a note that I want to send out by Thomas beforedinner. It won't take me ten minutes."
Brenda sat down at her little desk, while Belle sank in the depths of aneasy chair near the fire.
Just as Brenda finished her note, a white-capped maid came into theroom.
"Oh, Jane, just give this note to Thomas, please. I want him to take itto Mrs. Grey's and bring back my new coat. I can't go to schoolto-morrow without it."
"I don't hardly think Thomas can go, Miss Brenda."
"Why not?"
"Well, he's got to go to the station for your cousin."
"My cousin?"
"Yes, miss. A telegram came this afternoon that she'd be here atsix-thirty, and your mother left word when sh
e went out that theywouldn't be much later than that getting back from the train."
"Well, I never! The idea of her coming without any one's expecting her.Why didn't she write?"
"I don't know, miss. I heard something about a letter that got lost, butanyway your mother's gone to meet Miss Julia, and she left word shethought you'd better give up going to the tableaux this evening, for shewouldn't like you to leave your cousin alone."
"There, Belle, that's the way it's always going to be. Everything for'Miss Julia.' I don't care, I'm going out just the same. The idea oflosing those tableaux."
"But, Brenda," began Belle.
"No, it isn't any good arguing with me. I never _could_ bear to beinterfered with, and mamma knows perfectly well that I want to see 'TheSuccession of the Seasons.'"
"But it's to be repeated to-morrow evening. You know I'm going then."
"I don't care. I hate to go the second night to anything."
Belle did not reply, though as Jane left the room, she turned to Brenda.
"I'd better not stay to dinner to-night."
"Oh, do. I don't want to sit alone with Julia. I shan't know what to sayto her. No, really you can't go home."
Then running to the stairs and calling after Jane, Brenda cried,
"See that there's an extra place at the table for Belle."
After this she began to open the drawers of her bureau, tossing theircontents about, and she ran in and out of her closet to bring out onegown after another for Belle's inspection.
"Which would you wear if you wanted to make a good impression on a newcousin? I want to look as old as I can, and I believe I'll do up myhair."
"Oh, Brenda!"
"Yes, I will. Now see, if I put a string on the band of this skirt itwill almost touch the floor. There, help me."
When the skirt was lengthened, Brenda regarded her reflection in thepier-glass with great satisfaction. Brushing her waving brown hair tothe top of her head, she gathered it in a soft knot, and thrust a longgold pin through it.
"Tell me the truth, Belle, wouldn't you think me sixteen years old--ifyou didn't know," she cried to her friend, who could hardly conceal hermirth at Brenda's changed aspect.
"I don't--why, yes, of course," as she saw a frown stealing acrossBrenda's face.
Brenda strode around the room with all the dignity she could command,her pretty face somewhat flushed by her exertions in giving her hairjust the right touch. As a matter of fact she looked rather odd, butBelle did not dare tell her that her skirt hung unevenly, and that twoor three short locks of her hair stood out almost straight behind.
"Hark, I believe they've come," Brenda exclaimed.
Certainly there was a noise in the hall below.
"Where's Brenda?" she heard her mother call.
"Well, I suppose we'll have to go down," she said reluctantly to Belle,and the two girls slowly descended the stairs.