CHAPTER II.
A SUDDEN MISFORTUNE.
As the day drew near for the return of her mother and father Hinpohawent all over the house from garret to cellar seeing that everything wasput to rights. She and the other Winnebagos took a trip into the countryfor bittersweet to decorate the fireplace in the library and in herfather's study upstairs. With pardonable pride she arranged a littleexhibition of the Craft work she had done in camp and the sketches shehad made of the lake and hills. On the table in her mother's room sheplaced a work basket she had made of reed and lined with silk.
"Gracious sakes, child," said her aunt, from her rocking chair by thefront window of the living-room, "what a fuss you are going to! Onewould think it was your Aunt Phoebe who was coming instead of yourmother and father. They'll be just as glad to see you if the house isn'tas neat as a pin from top to bottom." And Aunt Grace resumed her rockingand her novel, as unconcerned about the imminent return of the travelersas if it were nothing more than the daily visit of the milkman. Nothingshort of an earthquake would ever shake Aunt Grace out of her settledcomplacency.
Hinpoha went happily on, seeing that every tack and screw was in place,and arranging the books in the cases to correspond to her father'scatalog, for they had become sadly mixed during his absence. She eventook out a volume of his favorite essays and pored over them diligentlyso that she might discuss them with him and show that she had used someof her time to good advantage. She straightened out her bureau drawersand mended all her clothes and stockings. When everything was in ordershe viewed the result with a happy feeling at the pleasure it would giveher mother when she saw it. Hinpoha's most prominent trait in times pasthad not been neatness.
Nyoda, who had been called in to make a final inspection before Hinpohawas satisfied, wondered if all the girls were "seeking beauty" asearnestly as Hinpoha was. She envied Hinpoha the homecoming of hermother from the bottom of her heart. This feeling was particularlystrong one afternoon as she sat in the school room after the close ofschool, looking over some English papers. It was the anniversary of thedeath of her mother and she sat recalling little incidents of herchildhood before this best of chums had been taken away. As she satthere half dreaming she heard voices in the hall before her door.
"Have you heard the latest?" asked one voice.
"No," said the second voice, "what is it?"
"Why, the _Francona_ has gone down," answered the first voice. "Struck amine in the ocean."
At the word "Francona" Nyoda started up. That was the boat Hinpoha'sparents were coming on! She hurried out into the hall after the twoteachers. "What did you say about the _Francona_?" she asked. Theyhanded her the "extra" they had been reading and she saw with her owneyes the account of the disaster. The list of "saved" was pitifullysmall, and Hinpoha's parents were not among them. Soon she came to thenotation, "Among the lost are Mr. and Mrs. Adam Bradford, prominentCleveland lawyer and his wife. Mr. Bradford was the son of the lateJudge Bradford and a well-known man about town." Of what little avail is"prominence" when calamity stretches out her cruel hands! "Well known"and obscure gave up their lives together and found a grave side by side.
"You look like a ghost, Miss Kent," said one of the teachers. "Anyfriends of yours on board?"
"Dorothy Bradford's mother and father," answered Nyoda, "one of thepupils here at school."
Leaving her work unfinished, she hastened to Hinpoha's house. The newshad just been learned there. Aunt Grace had fainted and was beingrevived with salts. Hinpoha flung herself on Nyoda and clung to her likea drowning person. Between neighbors and friends coming to sympathizeand reporters from the newspapers seeking interviews the house was apandemonium. Nyoda saw that Hinpoha would never quiet down in thosesurroundings and took her away to her own apartment. Of all the friendswho offered consolation Nyoda was the one to whom Hinpoha turned forcomfort. Here the brilliant young college woman and the simple girl wereon a level, for they shared a common experience, and each couldcomprehend the other's sorrow.
Poor Hinpoha! She had need of all the consolation that Nyoda could giveher in the days that followed. Full of bitterness as her cup was, therewas to be added yet one more drop--the drop that caused it to run over.Aunt Phoebe came to live with her and be the mistress of the Bradfordhouse. At some time in the past Judge Bradford and his sister Phoebe hadbeen named joint guardians of Hinpoha, but the Judge was now dead andAunt Phoebe was the sole guardian. Aunt Phoebe was a spinster of thetype usually described in books, tall and spare, with steely blue eyes.She was sixty years old, but she might have been a hundred and sixty,for all the sympathy she had with youth. She had been disappointed inlove when she was twenty and had never thought kindly of any man since.From her earliest childhood Hinpoha had dreaded the very name of AuntPhoebe. When she came to visit a restraint fell over the whole house.The usual lively chatter at the dinner table was hushed, and Aunt Phoebeheld forth in solemn tones, generally berating some unfortunate personwho nearly always happened to be a good friend of Mrs. Bradford's.Hinpoha would be called up for a minute examination of her clothes andmanners and would invariably do something which was not right in hergreat aunt's eyes.
She had a vivid recollection of going tobogganing down the long frontwalk one winter day, her jolly mother on the sled with her, steering itadroitly around the corner and up the sidewalk for a distance afterleaving the slope. Such fun they were having that they did not look tosee if the road was clear, and went bumping into a female figure thatwas coming majestically along the street, knocking her off her feet andinto a snowdrift. It was Aunt Phoebe, coming to make a formal afternooncall. She sat bolt upright in the snow and adjusted her lorgnette to seeif by any chance her grandniece could be one of those rowdy children.When she discovered that it was not only Hinpoha, but her mother aswell, frolicking so indecorously, she was speechless. Mrs. Bradfordstarted to make an abject apology, but the sight of Aunt Phoebe sittingin the snowdrift with her lorgnette was too much for her and she wentoff into a peal of laughter, in which Hinpoha joined gleefully. It wasweeks before Aunt Phoebe could be coaxed to make another visit. And thiswas the woman who was coming to take the place of Hinpoha's belovedmother!
Aunt Grace left the day she came. There was not enough room in one housefor her and Aunt Phoebe. With Aunt Phoebe came "Silky," a wiggling,snapping Skye terrier. He gave one glance at genial Mr. Bob, who wasrolling on his back before the fireplace, and with a growl fastened histeeth into his neck. Hinpoha rescued her pet and bore him away to herroom, where she shed tears of despair while he licked her handsympathetically. Aunt Phoebe's first act was to put Hinpoha into deepmourning. Hinpoha objected strenuously, but there was no help, and shewent to school swathed from head to foot in black. Nyoda was wrathful atthe sight, for if there was one point she felt strongly about it wasputting children into mourning. Among the gaily dressed girls Hinpohastood out like some dark spirit from the underworld, casting a gloomwherever she went.
"Where is that beautiful vase I brought your mother from the World'sFair?" asked Aunt Phoebe one day, suddenly missing it.
"It was accidently broken at our last Camp Fire meeting," answeredHinpoha, with a tightening around her heart when she thought of thatlast happy gathering.
"Camp Fire!" said Aunt Phoebe with a snort. "You don't mean to tell methat you are mixed up in any such foolishness as that?"
"I certainly am," said Hinpoha energetically, "and it isn't foolishness,either. I've learned more since I have been a Camp Fire Girl than I didin all the years before."
"Well, you may consider yourself graduated, then," said Aunt Phoebe,drily, "for I'll have no such nonsense about me. I can teach you all youneed to know outside of what you learn in school."
"Camp Fire always had mother's fullest approval," said Hinpoha darkly.
"I dare say," returned her aunt. "But I want you to understand once forall that I won't have any girls holding 'meetings' here, to upset thehouse and break valuable ornaments."
"But you don't care if I go to them at o
ther girls' houses, do you?"asked Hinpoha, the fear gripping her that she was to be denied theconsolation of these weekly gatherings with the Winnebagos.
"I don't want you to have anything to do with that Camp Fire business,"said Aunt Phoebe in a tone of finality, and Hinpoha left the room, herheart swelling with bitterness. She was too wise to argue the point withAunt Phoebe, and resolved to depend on Nyoda to show her the way. Shedried her tears and went down to the living room and began to playsoftly on the piano. It had been her mother's piano, the wedding gift ofher father, and it seemed that her mother's spirit hovered over it. Itwas the first time she had touched the keys since that awful Wednesdaywhen the world had been turned into chaos; she had had no heart to play,but to-day the sound of the music comforted her and her bitter resentmentagainst her aunt lost some of its sting. She played on, lost inmemories, when suddenly the sharp voice of her aunt brought her back toearth. "What does this mean?" cried Aunt Phoebe, "playing on the pianowhen your father and mother have just died! I never heard of such athing! Come away immediately and don't open that piano again until ourperiod of mourning is over." She closed the piano and locked it, puttingthe key into her bag.
Under Aunt Phoebe's management the house soon lost its look of invitingfriendliness. The blinds were always kept drawn, so that even on thebrightest days the rooms had a gloomy appearance. No more cheerful woodfires crackled and glowed in the grate. They made ashes on the rugs andwere extravagant, as the house was heated by steam. The bookcases werelocked and Hinpoha was forbidden to read fiction, as this was not properwhen one was in mourning. "You will become acquainted with much pleasantliterature reading to me while I crochet," she said when Hinpoha rose inrevolt at this edict. The "pleasant literature" which Aunt Phoebe wasjust then perusing was a History of the Presbyterian Church in elevenvolumes, which bored Hinpoha so it nearly gagged her.
Besides, Aunt Phoebe constantly found fault with Hinpoha's manner ofreading. It was either too loud or not loud enough; either too fast ortoo slow, but it was never right. That reading aloud was the last strawto Hinpoha. After sitting still a whole afternoon getting her schoollessons, she longed to move about after supper, but then Aunt Phoebeexpected her to sit still the entire evening and entertain her with theactivities of the Early Presbytery. After nearly a week of this deadlydullness Hinpoha was ready to fly. And yet Aunt Phoebe was not consciousthat there was anything wrong in the way she was treating Hinpoha. Shecared for her in her frozen way. She was merely trying to bring her upin the way she herself had been brought up by a maiden aunt, not takinginto account that this was another day and age. In her time it wasconsidered the proper thing to shut down on all lightheartedness after adeath in the family, and she was adhering steadfastly to the oldprinciples. She was yet to learn that she could not force obsoletecustoms upon a girl who had lived for sixteen years in the sunlight ofmodern ideas.
All Hinpoha's troubles were confided to Nyoda, who sympathized with herentirely, but bade her be of good cheer and hope for the time when AuntPhoebe would see for herself that the new way was best; and above all towin the respect and liking of her aunt the first thing, as more could beaccomplished in this way than by being antagonistic. "I don't supposeyou could go for a long walk with me Sunday afternoon?" said Nyoda.
Hinpoha shook her head sadly. "We don't do anything like that onSunday," she answered, with resentment flaming in her eye. "We go tochurch morning and evening and in the afternoon I am supposed to readthe Bible or a book by a man named Thomas a Kempis." Nyoda turned hereyes inward with such a comical expression that Hinpoha forgot hertroubles for a moment and laughed.
"The Bible and Thomas a Kempis," said Nyoda musingly; "where did I hearthose two mentioned before? Oh, I have it! Did you ever read thisanywhere, 'Commit to memory one hundred verses of the Bible or an equalamount of sacred literature, such as Thomas a Kempis'?"
Hinpoha hung her head, still smiling. "Why, Nyoda," she said, "there's achance to earn an honor bead that I probably wouldn't have thought ofotherwise!"
"Right-o," said Nyoda. "'It's an ill wind,' you know. And while you aredoing so much Bible reading you will undoubtedly come across somethingabout 'in the wilderness a cedar,' and will learn that most waste placescan be turned into blooming gardens if we only know how."
"Thank you," said Hinpoha, "I always feel less forlorn after a talk withyou." Her face brightened, but immediately fell again. "But what goodwill it do me to work for honors?" she said sadly. "Aunt Phoebe won'tlet me come to the meetings."
"Won't she really?" asked Nyoda in surprise. Hinpoha nodded, near totears. "I must see about that," said Nyoda resolutely. "I think if Iexplain the mission and activities of Camp Fire she will not object toyour belonging. She probably has a wrong idea of what it means."
Accordingly Nyoda came a-calling on Aunt Phoebe that very night. Inaddition to being very pretty Nyoda had a great deal of dignity, andwhen she put on her formal manner she looked very impressive indeed. Shedid not act as if she had come to see Hinpoha at all, but asked for"Miss Bradford," and said she had come to pay her respects to her newneighbor. She listened politely to Aunt Phoebe's account of her lastsiege of rheumatism, admired her crochet work, and hoped she liked thisstreet as well as her former neighborhood. She said she had often seenMiss Bradford's name in the papers in connection with various charitableorganizations and was very glad to have the honor of meeting the sisterof the prominent Judge. Aunt Phoebe was pleased and flattered at thedeference paid her. But when Nyoda announced herself as the leader ofthe club to which Hinpoha belonged and asked permission for her toattend the meetings, she refused. She was perfectly polite about it, anddid not mention her antipathy to Camp Fire, and taking refuge behind herfavorite excuse, that of being in mourning, stated that she did not wishHinpoha to go out in society.
"But this isn't 'society'," broke in Hinpoha desperately.
"A meeting of a club partakes of a social nature," returned her aunt,"and is not to be thought of." And there the matter rested.
So Nyoda had to depart without accomplishing her mission. Hinpoha,utterly crushed, followed her to the door, and Nyoda gave her hand areassuring squeeze. "Don't despair, dear," she whispered hopefully; "shewill come around to it eventually, but it will take time. Be patient.And in the meantime read this," and she slipped into her hand a tinycopy of "The Desert of Waiting." "Just be true to the Law, and see ifyou cannot find the roses among the thorns and from them distil theprecious ointment that will open the door of the City of Your Desirelater on."
Hinpoha thrust the little book into her blouse, and when she was safe inher own room read it from cover to cover. When she finished there was asong in her heart again and a light in her eyes. Resolutely she turnedher face to the East and began her long sojourn in the Desert ofWaiting.
Nyoda pondered the problem for a long while that night, and the next dayshe went to call on Gladys's mother. Mrs. Evans had taken a great likingto the popular young teacher of whom Gladys was so fond, and cordiallyinvited her to spend as much time as she could at the house with thefamily. It was to her, then, that Nyoda appealed for advice in regard toHinpoha. Mrs. Evans made a slight grimace when the facts were laidbefore her.
"If that isn't just like Phoebe Bradford," she exclaimed indignantly."Trying to shut up that poor girl like a nun to conform to somemoth-eaten ideas of hers! If the Judge were alive that house wouldn'tlook as if there was a perpetual funeral going on! I certainly will calland see if I can do anything to change her mind, although I doubt verymuch if that could be accomplished by human means."
The next day Aunt Phoebe was agreeably surprised to receive a call fromMrs. Evans, "All the best people in the neighborhood are making haste tocall on the sister of Judge Bradford," she reflected complacently. Mrs.Evans made herself very agreeable, speaking of many friends they had incommon, and finally led the conversation around to Hinpoha.
"The child looks very pale," she said. "I presume the death of herparents was a terrible shock to her?"
Aun
t Phoebe dabbed her eyes with her black-bordered handkerchief. "Thehand of misfortune has fallen heavily upon this house," she saidmournfully.
"It has indeed!" thought Mrs. Evans. Aloud she said, "You must not letthe girl grieve herself sick. Cheerful company is what she needs at thistime. Make her go out with the Camp Fire Girls as much as possible."
Aunt Phoebe drew herself up rather stiffly. "I do not approve of theCamp Fire Girls," she said.
"Not approve of the Camp Fire Girls!" echoed Mrs. Evans in well-feignedastonishment; "why, what's wrong with them?"
Just what the great objection was Aunt Phoebe was not prepared to say,but she remarked that such nonsense had never been thought of in herday. "And, of course," she added, hiding behind her usual argument,"while we are in mourning my grandniece will not go out to anygatherings."
"Why, I wouldn't think of keeping Gladys home for that reason," saidMrs. Evans, seeing the subterfuge. "She went to a Camp Fire meeting theday after her grandfather's funeral. It's not like going to a socialfunction, you know."
Aunt Phoebe shook her head, but her policy of seclusion for Hinpoha wasgetting shaky. Mrs. Homer Evans was a power in the community, and whatshe did set the fashion in a good many directions. Aunt Phoebe was veryanxious to keep her as a permanent acquaintance, and if Mrs. Evans gaveher sanction to this Camp Fire business, she wondered if she had notbetter swallow her prejudice--outwardly at least, for she declaredinwardly that she had never heard of such foolishness in all her borndays. When Mrs. Evans went home Aunt Phoebe had actually promised thatafter three months Hinpoha might attend the meetings as before. Thosethree months of mourning, however, were sacred to her, and on no accountwould she have consented to allow a single ray of cheer to enter thehouse during that period.