It appeared to Kathie that she had never known so long a fortnight as the first two weeks of Uncle Robert's absence; yet everything had gone on just the same, none of the duties were changed, only the absence and the dreadful suspense.
Yet something else had happened, or was working itself out slowly day by day. Among the new scholars were several quite stylish and fashionable girls, who felt inclined to draw a line, or make some kind of a social distinction.
Foremost among these was Isabel Hadden, a tall, showy girl, who prided herself upon her figure and style. Her father had made a fortune as an army contractor, and was now in Washington. He had purchased a very pretty country residence at Brookside, and installed his family there, though Mrs. Hadden frequently joined him for weeks at a time.
Belle had been at a second-rate boarding-school for a year before the family had attained their present grandeur. Now a distant connection filled the position of governess to the host of younger children; but Belle considered herself too large to come in with "that crowd," as she rather disdainfully termed them.
She was sent to school every morning in the carriage, and it not infrequently came for her in the afternoon. Rather distant and haughty at first, she had not made friends very easily. Mrs. Thorne happened to meet Mrs. Hadden at an evening party, and it was followed by a mutual acquaintance. Thereupon Isabel and Lottie became friends, though the latter was somewhat younger. Lottie's mother was very ambitious for her, and since Mr. Thorne would not consent to the expense of a boarding-school, she sent Lottie to Mrs. Wilder, as it was so much more genteel.
Belle became the leader of the small clique who discussed fashions habitually. She criticised the dresses, cuffs, collars, and laces for the edification of her youthful hearers, until Emma Lauriston said one day, "Miss Hadden is as good as a fashion-magazine. I don't know but she would be invaluable in a fancy goods' store."
Lottie still kept to her old habit of calling upon Kathie for assistance when lessons were puzzling. For several days in succession she had occupied Kathie's short intermission, and Mrs. Wilder found that she began to depend too much upon this kindly help.
"Miss Kathie," her teacher said at length, "I have a request or a command in my mind,—you can consider it as which ever is easiest to obey," and Mrs. Wilder smiled.
Kathie smiled as well, in her pleasant fashion.
"I am sorry to find fault with any generous deed that school-girls do for one another, but I think Lottie Thorne has come to depend altogether too much upon you. It is hardly fair to occupy your few moments of recreation when by a little closer application she could solve her own problems and translations. This is really necessary for her own good."
"I did not like to be disobliging," Kathie answered, by way of excuse.
"Your generosity is carried almost to a fault at times. You must learn to say 'No' occasionally."
Kathie's soft eyes were downcast. It would be very hard to refuse.
"Lottie has as much time to study her lessons at home as you have, and I am always ready to explain any difficulty. That is one of my duties towards my pupils. I am in a measure answerable for her improvement; and if she slips through upon the assistance of others she will be the loser in the end. You understand what I mean?—that while I do not wish to discourage a helpful feeling among the girls, I desire that each one should study for herself."
"Yes," Kathie said, in a low tone.
"And, my little friend, it is necessary that one should learn to be just as well as generous."
Kathie felt the force of the remark. Uncle Robert had explained this occasionally to her in connection with Rob, who was rather fond of making her extensively useful. Then she always hated to say no to others. It was easier to sacrifice her own pleasures or desires.
To smooth the matter for her, Mrs. Wilder announced that morning that she wished each girl's translations to be exclusively her own work, and if there was any great difficulty she would be glad to have them apply to her.
Kathie left the school-room the instant recess began. Lottie was still puzzling over her algebra, and, having finished that, she took up her imperfect French, meaning to go in search of her little helper.
Two or three girls were discussing a party.
"I helped Hattie Norman make out her list last night," said Belle Hadden. "It is to be very select. Her mother insisted that all the Brookside rabble should not be invited."
Hattie Norman was one of the new-comers. Lottie's heart beat a little faster as she wondered whether she would be classed among the rabble.
"The Norman boys are elegant," pursued Belle. "They have all been to dancing-school; and there will be two of Hattie's cousins from the city,—five young gentlemen of one's own."
"You might tell us who the lucky ones are," pleaded a voice.
"That is my secret. The invitations are to be sent out to-day. I wouldn't miss it for anything. Mamma brought me an elegant tarlatan overskirt the last time she came from New York. It is just a mass of fluted ruffling. I shall wear it over my blue silk, I think; blue is so becoming to me."
Lottie lingered, talking and listening, and before she imagined the moments were half gone the bell on Mrs. Wilder's table rang.
"O Kathie, just stop an instant!" she cried; but the girls were hurrying in, and somehow Kathie passed on with them. Fifteen minutes after, the French class was summoned.
"You must write your translation over for to-morrow, Miss Thorne; and yours, Miss Hadden, is not very perfect; a little revision would improve it."
Much as she disdained the patient governess at home, Belle found her very useful.
Kathie kept out of Lottie's way. It looked rather mean to her, but it was better than an open refusal.
The trial came the next day, however. To Lottie's great delight, she was invited to the party, and her head had been so full of it that all the lessons suffered. She was casting about in her mind what she could have new, or what could be altered to look like new.
"O Kathie!" she exclaimed at recess, "just help me out with these few lines. I made so many blunders yesterday, and I was so busy last evening."
"You remember what Mrs. Wilder said on Tuesday." Kathie's heart beat rapidly with the effort, and she felt quite inclined to run away like a little coward.
"What?—O, about asking her! but then she never tells one anything. You might, I am sure; or if you will just let me read over your translation."
"It would not be quite fair." Kathie's tone was rather slow and hesitating.
"You needn't be so afraid! I should not copy," was the sharp answer. "Just tell me this case."
One answer surely would not be a crime.
"And this line; I can't make beginning nor end of it."
"I am sorry, Lottie; but Mrs. Wilder said the girls were not to help each other so much,—that each one was to get her own translation—"
"Well, I mean to get my own; I just asked you a question. You are very short and hateful about it!"
"O Lottie, I do not want to disobey Mrs. Wilder! I would help you if I could—if it was right." Kathie uttered the words hurriedly, as if after a moment she should not have the courage to say them at all.
"You are setting up for a saint, we all know; and it is very convenient to talk about right when one means to be cross and disobliging! I would do anything I could for a friend, I am sure."
Kathie was silent. She knew by experience that Lottie had a habit of teasing until she accomplished her purpose.
"So you really won't do that little favor?"
"Miss Alston!" called one of the girls; and Kathie was glad to go.
Lottie dropped two or three tears of mortification and disappointment. She had come to depend a great deal upon Kathie, and it was hard doing without the help. "She is a hateful little thing, after all," was her internal comment.
Belle Hadden let her look over her translation "just a moment." Lottie had a quick eye and a good memory; but the lesson was not so perfect that it could escape Mrs. Wilder's attention.
"Please take a little more pains, Miss Thorne," she said; "I shall have to mark you for both days."
Coming out of school, they paused, in girl fashion, to say a few last words. A rather rusty-looking rockaway wagon passed by, in which were two females, one of whom was driving. The other leaned out suddenly, with a cry of joy: "O Miss Kathie! Mother, stop,—do!"
Kathie colored a little. There was the identical purple bonnet and red roses, and Sarah Ann had two long rooster-feathers stuck in her jockey hat, which certainly were waving in the breeze rather ungracefully; but the child went straight up to the wagon, thrusting aside the cowardly shame.
"I'm so glad to see you! Do you go to school there? O my! what a lot of—young ladies!" and Sarah blushed. "There's the one that laughed at mother when we were at the Fair! Do you like her?"
"We are all schoolmates, you know," said Kathie, in a peculiar, but gentle tone. "Are you well? This is quite a surprise!"
"You are a good, sensible gal," remarked Mrs. Strong, with a meaning look, which showed Kathie that she was not so deficient in perception, after all.
"O yes! How is your uncle? Jim thinks he's just splendid! We did have such a nice time that day! I've commenced a long letter to you, and I've read both books aloud. We liked the story so much! and I cried over the Evangeline,—I couldn't help it. I'm so glad to have the picture! Wasn't it sad?" and the ready tears came into Sarah's eyes.
"It's a real pleasure to meet you"; and Mrs. Strong's face softened to a motherly glow. "I've come down to get a cousin whose husband was killed in Tennessee fightin', and the poor thing's a'most begged her way back with one little child, so I want her to come up and make a good visit while she's gettin' over the worst. Sez I to father, 'We ain't suffered any from the war, and gettin' good prices all the time for farmin' truck, and it's a pity if we can't make it a little easier for them who have.' She was such a nice young gal, and used to teach school there at Middleville; but she's seen sights o' trouble sence. And then Sary Ann begged to come, 'cause her father give her money to buy a new gown."
"And I coaxed mother to go to your house, but she wouldn't," said Sarah, shyly. "I wanted to hear something about you so much! I'm so glad!"
"And so am I," returned Kathie, warmly.
Plain and unrefined as Mrs. Strong was, she had a good, generous heart. "We must not keep Miss Kathie standin' here in the cold," she said. "Which way you goin'?"
"Straight on to Crosby Street."
"I wish you'd jump in and ride."
"O do!" pleaded Sarah.
The girls had pretty well dispersed. Even Emma Lauriston was walking slowly down the street. Kathie declined at first, but they urged so strongly that finally she acceded; and, driving slowly, they had quite a nice talk, though Mrs. Strong insisted upon taking her nearly home, as their shopping was all done.
But the episode had not been suffered to pass unremarked.
"What an elegant turnout!" sneered Belle Hadden. "Some of Kathie Alston's country relations, I suppose."
"No," answered Lottie, "it is some people she met at the Fair."
"What horrid taste,—and what coarse, uncouth creatures! Who is Kathie Alston, anyhow? A decided parvenu, to my thinking. Are they really rich,—the Alstons?"
"No, it is Kathie's uncle, Mr. Conover. He made a fortune off in Australia, I believe. They were poor enough before!" Lottie uttered this rather spitefully. Kathie's refusal to assist her that noon still rankled in her mind.
"Did they live here then?"
"O yes! in one of a row of little cottages; and Mrs. Alston had to sew for a living."
The murder was out. Lottie had a misgiving that this was decidedly mean and treacherous; and yet, she said to herself, it was every word true. Why should the Alstons be ashamed of it? Only it did seem mortifying.
"This is just about what I thought. Kathie Alston hasn't a bit of style or dignity; and how they do dress her! There was some common linen edging on that ruffle she wore to-day, and I don't believe she ever has more than two dresses at the same time. Plebeian blood will tell. Hattie Norman asked me about them, but I told her Kathie was only a little chit that she wouldn't care to invite. I don't suppose they let her go to parties, or that she knows how to dance. What is the inside of their house like?"
"It is very beautiful."
"Tawdry and cheap, I fancy. Such people have no taste. There is a great deal in birth. My mother was one of the Van Cortlands, of New York,—real old blue blood; and I can always tell commoners. I wish there could be some distinction here."
"Mrs. Alston is considered very ladylike," said Lottie, with a touch of remorse.
"By people who are no judges, I suppose. And Mrs. Wilder treats Kathie as if she were the greatest lady in the land! I think we ought to put her down. Where I went to boarding-school we had two parties,—patricians and plebeians,—and the plebeians were made to keep their places. There ought to be just such a distinction here. The idea of being intimate with a girl whose mother has worked for a living! Why, we shouldn't think of recognizing our dressmaker in society!"
This sounded quite grand to foolish Lottie. That she was considered good enough to go to the Normans' to a party was a great thing. And then Lottie remembered about some great-grandmother of hers, who had belonged to the French nobility, and escaped during one of the revolutions. Didn't that make her blood a little blue? If it would only make the French exercises come easy as well!
Lottie scarcely noticed Kathie the next day. It was rainy, and the "patricians" lingered about the stove, discussing the Norman party. Eight or ten played blind-man's-buff in the walk, and had a gay time, bringing the roses to their cheeks.
Two or three of them had bantered Kathie a little about her "friends," but she accepted it in a very good-natured way.
A day or two after, Emma Lauriston took her drawing over to the window where it was lighter, and still lingered at the table when school closed. Afterward they all fell into a pleasant talk.
"So you have come over to our side," exclaimed Miss Hadden.
"Your side?"—with a look of surprise.
"Yes, the patricians."
Emma Lauriston had always been called proud, and it was well known that she was to be quite an heiress by and by, her grandmother having left her a considerable fortune.
"I think there can be no question about my tastes or sympathies," she said, rather haughtily. "Refinement, truth, and honor make my nobility."
"Refinement is absolutely necessary to me," remarked Belle, with an elegant air. "Sometimes I am teased about it, but all kinds of coarseness and vulgarity are odious to me, whether it is in dress or behavior. And loud voices or loud manners are equally my detestation."
Emma did not dissent. One or two thoughts of her own took up her attention, and the rest of the talk seemed to float around her like the waves of a distant sea.
Kathie remarked the change very quickly, for she was keenly sensitive. That Lottie should be vexed with her she did not so much wonder at, but why should the other girls shun her? She certainly had done nothing to them. And it gave her a pang to see some small circle fall apart when she joined it, each girl giving knowing glances to the others. Then, too, she was left out of the plays and talks, and though they did nothing absolutely rude, she seemed to understand that there was a kind of social ostracism, and she was being pushed over to the side she did not admire,—to the half-dozen rather coarse girls.
Belle was not slow in spreading abroad the report. The Alstons were mushroom aristocracy. Nobody knew how the uncle had made his fortune. People did everything in Australia,—robbed, cheated, even murdered. And Mrs. Alston had actually sewed for a living!
Yet it must be confessed that these very girls fairly envied her the pony phaeton and the elegant house.
"Uncle Robert is coming home," said her mother, one afternoon. "We have received a good long letter from him, and some news that will surprise you."
Kathie's face was aglow with interest.
"You may read it all yourself. He had not time to write any more than one letter."
Kathie sat down to her treasure.
"O mamma! And Miss Jessie is married to—Mr. Meredith! What will Ada say? But O, will he never get well? It would be harder than ever to have him die. How strange it seems! Dear Miss Jessie!"
The doctors had conquered the fever, but there were some serious complications with his wound, and he was so reduced that it appeared almost impossible for him to rally. Kathie could see that Uncle Robert had very little hope.
"Still he is very happy and resigned," the letter said. "Since his marriage he seems to have not a wish left ungratified. Mr. and Mrs. George Meredith were present, and the lady was considerably surprised by this unlooked-for termination; still, she was very gracious to Jessie. But the best of all is his perfect peace and trust. A precious hope the Saviour's love has been, and in his mind his whole brief religious life seems connected with our darling little Kathie. Every day he speaks of her. It is true that God has ordained praise out of the mouths of babes."
The loving messages brought the tears to Kathie's eyes. And most delightful of all was the hope of seeing dear Uncle Robert again. So for two days satirical school shafts fell harmless.
Rob had a flying visit first of all, but the joy at Cedarwood was delightful. Uncle Robert reached home just at dusk, and Kathie could do nothing all the evening but watch him and talk. All the story had to be told over again, and with it many incidents that could not be written,—the heroic bravery, the patient endurance and sweet faith.
"Then he is not sorry that he re-enlisted?" Kathie asked, anxiously.
"No, my darling. He thinks that his country needed him, and his last act was to procure some very valuable information. He would like to live if it is God's will, but it will be well with him either way."
Uncle Robert held the little hand in his and gave it a fond pressure. Kathie knew what it said, but her heart felt very humble.
The next morning she had to tell him about Sarah Strong.
"And how kind it is in Mrs. Strong to take home this poor cousin!" Kathie said. "I liked her manner of speaking of it so much. But I think—"
Kathie made a long pause.
"A remarkable thought it must be!" said her uncle, smiling.
Fred ran in to have his pencil sharpened, and also to announce that one of the cunning little guinea-pigs was dead. So Kathie's school discomfort passed out of her mind.
But it met her on the threshold again. She was rather early at school, as Uncle Robert wished to drive about the village to do several errands.
Half a dozen girls were discussing tableaux. Kathie joined them with a face full of interest.
"O," she exclaimed, "I do love to hear about tableaux! Are you really going to have them?"
There was a coolness and silence in the small circle.
"It was a little matter of our own that we were discussing," said Belle Hadden, loftily.
Kathie turned. She had been in such a happy mood that she was ready for anything. And the two or three experiences in tableaux had left such a delightful memory that she was fain to try it again.
She went to her seat quietly. The voices floated dimly over to her.
"It is mean not to ask her!"
"Girls, I know Mrs. Wilder will notice it, and speak of it."
"You can all do as you like, but if you want Tom, Dick, and Harry, and everybody in them, I beg leave to be excused," said a rather sharp, haughty voice.
"But Kathie Alston isn't—"
"I would as soon have Mary Carson, or any one of that class. They are all alike."
Mary Carson's father had made a fortune in buying and selling iron. She was as coarse as Sarah Strong, without her ambition or good, tender heart.
Somehow Kathie rebelled at being placed in the same category. She took up her book and tried to study, but her heart was swelling with a sense of injustice. What had she done to these girls? She was not coarse, or vulgar, or mean.
"Plebeian and patrician," some one said with a laugh, as they dispersed at Mrs. Wilder's entrance.
Kathie heard of the plan through the course of the day. Some of the larger girls had proposed that they should give a little entertainment for the benefit of the wife and children of a Captain Duncan who had been killed in one of the recent battles. Mrs. Duncan was staying at Brookside, quite prostrated by her misfortunes.
Thirteen of the school-girls had been asked. Mrs. Coleman, Mrs. Duncan's warmest friend, had offered her parlor and dining-room. Sue Coleman was hand and glove with Belle Hadden.
Now and then Kathie glanced over to Mary Carson. Vulgarity was written in every line of her broad, freckled face. Something beside plainness,—snub nose, wiry brown hair, and the irregular teeth, which looked as if they were never brushed,—an air of self-sufficiency, as if she considered herself as good as the best. She was continually talking of what they had at home, and made the most absurd blunders, which Mrs. Wilder patiently corrected. The small satires of the other girls never pierced the armor of her complacency. "And they think me like her!" Kathie mused, with a sad, sore heart. "I suppose because our fortune came so suddenly; and yet mamma always was a lady. However, I must bear it patiently."
Uncle Robert, seeing her so grave, fancied that it was on account of Mr. Meredith; and he was so busy that for a few days they had no confidential talks.
It was very hard to feel so entirely alone. Even Emma Lauriston was at home sick with a sore throat.
CHAPTER X.
Emma Lauriston was absent from school three days, and then took her place, looking somewhat pale and languid; but several of the girls were rather impatient to see her.
"Have you heard bad news?" she asked of Kathie. "My cousin said your uncle had returned."
"Yes," in a grave tone, rather unlike the sunshiny Kathie.
"That was quite a romance about your friend Miss Darrell. Do they think Mr. Meredith will—never get well?"
"They are afraid."
The little bell sounded to call them to order, and then began the usual lessons. Kathie's were always perfect, and yet, oddly enough, it seemed to Emma that her whole heart was not in them.
She had fallen into the habit of watching Kathie very narrowly. The "something different from other girls" was still a puzzle to her; and when the doctor had said, a few days ago, "You just missed having a severe attack of diphtheria," it startled Emma a good deal. She knew several who had died of diphtheria; and if she were to die—
Of course she wanted to live. She was young, and full of hope; and there would be the fortune by and by,—one of those odd bequests of which she reaped little benefit now, as it was to go on accumulating until she was twenty-one; but then she would be able to do a great many delightful things with it. That was not all, however. There was something very terrible in the idea of death.
"O Miss Lauriston, we have ever so much to tell you and to talk about!" exclaimed Sue Coleman. "We are going to have some tableaux for a charitable object, and we want you to stand in several of them. You will make such a lovely Sister of Charity in Consolation."
With that the ball was fairly opened. Emma was pleased and interested at once.
"You are all to come over to my house after school. Belle Hadden has planned everything. She is a host in herself."
Kathie had been walking up and down with two or three girls that she did not care much about, only they had joined her, and were, perhaps, better company than her lonely thoughts.
"You are going over to Mrs. Coleman's,—are you not?" asked Emma, in surprise. "Don't you like tableaux?"
"Very much, but—Good by"; and Kathie made a feint of kissing her hand.
"Girls, haven't you asked Kathie Alston?" exclaimed Emma, in the first lull, for the talk had been very energetic; "she would make up lovely in ever so many characters."
There was a silence, and the girls glanced at each other with determination in their faces.
"What is the matter? Has she offended you? I noticed something a little peculiar in school to-day."
"Kathie Alston is well enough—in her place."
Emma colored. "Her place is as good as any of ours, I suppose," she made answer, slowly.
"Well, I don't quite think it is"; and Belle took up the glove. "There are some social distinctions—" The rest of the sentence was rather troublesome.
"I am sure the Alstons are rich, if that is what you mean."
"That is not altogether what I mean"; yet Belle was a trifle embarrassed at being forced to meet the issue so squarely, though every girl felt in her secret soul that Emma was undeniably aristocratic. "If we are to take up everybody who becomes suddenly rich, there is Mary Carson and several others; and I've never been used to it. Mamma is particular about my associates."
"But the Alstons are educated, refined, and were always wealthy until they met with a reverse of fortune when Mr. Alston died."
"And Mrs. Alston used to sew for the whole neighborhood, I've heard. Fancy being compelled to meet your seamstress as an—an equal! Mrs. Wilder ought to be more exclusive about her scholars. Mamma said so herself. And only a few days ago some horrid country clowns stopped right in front of the school, and she went off to take a ride in their forlorn old wagon. Our cook is actually related to these people! Their name is Strong,—a coarse, vulgar set, I know."
Belle talked very rapidly, and her face flushed with excitement. For several moments Emma hesitated. The distinction appeared paltry and mean to her. Then she really did like Kathie. "Girls," she began, at length, "I think you are unjust. I have been at Cedarwood, and met all the family. They are refined, intelligent, have a lovely home, and are—truly noble and Christian people." Emma uttered the last in spite of herself.
"Well, every one can do as she likes"; and Belle gave her head a haughty toss. "I don't think because a man digs up a nugget of gold in Australia he is entitled to a king's position at once. There are some girls at school that I should not associate with under any circumstances."
Emma had a feeling that this was really absurd; yet most of the girls had ranged themselves on this side, and it did require a good deal of courage to go against the opinions of her mates and friends. Still, when she came to think of it, Mrs. Grayson visited the Alstons, the Darrells were their firm friends, and that rich and elegant Mr. Meredith! But Kathie was rather inclined to be hand and glove with people beneath her.
"And Kathie Alston does take up everybody," said one of the girls. "Every few days you see her having some common thing in that pony-phaeton of hers. She hasn't a bit of pride or good taste, and it seems to me that is next of kin to refinement."
"Let us go on with the tableaux."
Emma listened to the arrangements in silence. This made such a beautiful scene,—that was so brilliant, or so pathetic, and must not be left out. And before they were aware the dusky evening dropped down about them.
"Girls," she said at length, in a soft, low voice, "I have decided that I will not take part in the tableaux. Kathie Alston and I have been friends, and I shall do nothing that I am quite sure to be ashamed of afterward. You have been very kind to ask me, and I am not angry with any of the opinions I have heard expressed, though they may not please me. Good night."
"Let her go over to the plebeians!" said some one, with a laugh.
At home Kathie had two pleasant surprises. First, a letter from Miss Jessie all to herself, in which they hoped, very faintly indeed, that Mr. Meredith had taken a turn for the better. If the good news should prove true, they meant, as soon as it would be safe, to remove to a private house. And then she said, "My darling little Kathie, we often feel that we would give half the world to see you."
The other was from Sarah,—a decided improvement upon her Christmas epistle,—not a word misspelled, and the sentences very fairly constructed. The last part was filled with Cousin Ellen and her little boy. Sarah told the whole story in her innocence, without the least intention of boasting. Mr. and Mrs. Strong had offered these poor wayfarers a home until they could do better.
"It is very good of them,—isn't it?" said Kathie. "If the Strongs are not polished, they have generous hearts."
"It certainly is most kind; and I am wonderfully pleased with the improvement in Sarah."
"Uncle Robert, would it be rude to send Sarah a pretty blue hair-ribbon, and tell her a little about contrasting colors? I wish she would not wear so much scarlet. Is it wrong for everybody to look as pretty as he or she can?"
"No, my dear; and sometimes a delicate hint proves very useful. Sarah has entirely too much color for scarlet; she needs something to tone her down."
Kathie had been casting about for some time how to manage this matter nicely, and her present idea appeared both delicate and feasible to her. Looking over her store, she found a fresh, pretty ribbon, and forgot all about the school trouble.
The tableaux progressed rapidly. A number of the Academy boys were invited to join. Mr. Coleman had some tickets printed, which sold rapidly, and the affair promised to be successful.
But one evening Dick Grayson said, "Emma Lauriston would look prettier in Consolation, and make the best Evangeline, of any girl in Brookside. Why haven't you asked her and Kathie Alston?"
"Emma declined," was the almost abrupt answer.
"But Kathie is the sweetest little girl I ever saw. She is always ready for everything."
There was no response. Belle Hadden had gone quite too far to admit that her line of distinction had been wrongly drawn. Lottie Thorne felt both sorry and ashamed; but there was no going back without a rather humiliating admission. And yet if she only had not spoken that day!
But Emma and Kathie drew nearer together in a quiet way through these troubled times. There were some petty slights to endure, and many unkindnesses. Friends and companions can wound each other so often in a noiseless manner,—pain and sting without the buzzing of a wasp, so patent to all the world,—and I often think these unseen hurts are the hardest to bear.
The evening at Mrs. Coleman's was both delightful and profitable. The Brookside Standard contained quite a glowing account of the entertainment, and praised the young ladies for their labor in so good a cause. The sum received, with several donations, amounted to eighty-seven dollars.
"Why did you not speak of it, Kathie?" asked Uncle Robert. "We would all have gone."
Now, there had not been even a ticket offered to Kathie. Indeed, the space being limited, Sue and Belle had made out a list of guests beforehand.
Kathie colored violently, and Uncle Robert looked quite astonished. Seeing that she was expected to answer, she summoned her courage.
"It was a—a party affair of the larger girls in school. They did not ask every one."
"But we might have sent a gift, the object was so very worthy."
Kathie made no reply to that. Uncle Robert studied the grave face, and decided that something had gone wrong.
Dick Grayson dropped in that evening. "I was so disappointed about your not being there," he said. "You would just have fitted in two or three of the tableaux."
But Kathie did not appear to be disposed to converse on the subject, so they wandered off into a talk about Rob, and then Mr. Meredith claimed their attention.
The patricians flourished in grand style. It would have been really laughable to sensible people to see how one after another copied Belle Hadden's airs and graces, and how the gulf widened in school. Several of the girls asked to have their seats changed, until the plebeians were left quite to themselves.
And yet the matter worked out a very odd and rather mortifying retaliation. One afternoon Dick Grayson overtook Emma Lauriston walking homeward. He had that day received a letter from her brother Fred, and repeated some of the contents.
"Are you going to Belle Hadden's party?" he asked, presently.
"I have not had any invitation." Emma's tone was rather curt.
"No?" in the utmost surprise. "What has happened among you girls? You and Kathie were not at the tableaux. Is there a standing quarrel?"
Dick and Emma were excellent friends in boy-and-girl fashion.
"There is something very mean and foolish. I wish somebody could look at it with clear eyes and give Belle Hadden a lesson!"
Emma's usually soft voice was indignant, and her face crimsoned with excitement.
"But how did Kathie Alston come to get mixed up with it. It seems to me that she is the last one to quarrel."
"There was no quarrel, at least no words. There are some very aristocratic girls in school, and Belle is forever talking about her mother's family. So they have divided the girls into patricians and plebeians."
"But Mr. Conover is a gentleman, and the Alstons are all refined. The idea of putting Kathie on the plebeian side is absurd! And you too—"
"I went over there," she said, sharply. "I would not take part in the tableaux on that account. Kathie had done nothing to them. It was because her mother used to sew, I believe, and then Kathie herself is not a bit proud. I suppose if they made a great show and parade like the Haddens—"
"I did not think Belle was that small! And you are a splendid champion, Emma. But Kathie is worthy of the best friendship in the world. She is never mean or envious, or looking out for the best places, and Mr. Conover is just royal. The idea of the Haddens setting themselves up! Why, Mrs. Alston used to sew for my mother, and mother is one of her warmest friends. Isn't there something very unjust about girls,—some girls, I mean?" blushing as he corrected himself. "And why does not Mrs. Wilder interfere, or is she on the patrician side?"
"Mrs. Wilder really doesn't know anything about it. The little hateful acts are done on the sly, just looks and tones, or some sentence that no one can take hold of. It would seem silly to complain of not being noticed. But it takes away the pleasant feeling that used to exist."
"And how does Kathie bear it?"
"Like a little angel. It hurts her cruelly too. About the time this first began, some very common-looking people spoke to Kathie in the street, and the girls have laughed and sneered at that. Indeed, nothing that she does escapes them. I almost wish that I wasn't a girl!"
"Boys don't badger a fellow that way, if they did there would be some thrashing! But I know just how to come up with Belle Hadden, and I'll do it!"
With that Dick laughed.
Emma was so much exasperated that the thought rather delighted her.
"What will you do?"
"I can't tell you until afterward. Don't I wish Rob Alston was home, though! He would enjoy the fun."
They separated at Emma's gate. She was not altogether sure that she was right in her desire, but she determined not to worry herself on that score.
Belle's party was to be quite a grand affair. A number of the Academy boys were invited, those who were rich and stylish; Belle did not come to school the next day, and the girls were rather indiscreet without their leader.
The rooms were beautiful, the supper elegant, the music fine, but—there were so few young gentlemen! Not Dick Grayson, nor Walter Dorrance, nor Charlie Darrell, nor—ever so many others that had been counted upon sure.
Emma guessed as she heard the floating talk.
"I do suppose Belle Hadden was as deeply mortified last night as she could be," Emma said to Kathie. "If ever I have another cause that I want righted I will place it in Dick Grayson's hand. He is equal to Arthur's knights."
"What did he do?"
"He said he had a plan. I know now that it must have been to keep the nicest boys away from the party. Belle likes Dick so much too. It must have been worth seeing,—their disappointment. A host of wall-flowers with no one to lead them out to dance!"
"You didn't ask him to do it?" Kathie's face was full of pain and regret.
"No, not exactly. Indeed, I did not know what he meant to do, only I was telling him about Belle Hadden's meanness, and he thought of a way to pay her back."
"I am so sorry it was—that way."
"Kathie!"
"O Emma dear, don't think me ungrateful! You have stood by me of your own accord, I know," and Kathie clasped her hand. "I am so much obliged to you. They had nothing against you at first, and they were very sorry not to have you at the tableaux. But it always troubles me to know that other people have suffered—"
"Not when they deserve it, surely!"
"Always—if it can be helped."
"And you would not have done this? You think it was not right for me to tell?"
What could Kathie say,—blame her brave comrade?
"No, you do not think it right. I can see that in your face! Kathie, how can you bear everything so patiently?"
"God makes it all right at last. He asks us to wait his time. And though it is very hard—" Kathie's lip quivered and her voice grew unsteady.
"It seems to me this has been the meanest thing I ever knew. You cannot guess what gave it the first start."
"Yes. It was while you were sick that the girls—took a dislike to me. I spoke to some people one day, some friends," correcting herself, "and Belle laughed at them. Then the girls talked about—mamma."
"It was shameful!"
"We were poor, and we had to work. Mamma could not help all that. And then Uncle Robert came, and we have been so very happy ever since. Thinking of it all, I don't mind this little trouble much. All that Belle says cannot make us coarse and vulgar and ignorant, and I have been trying all the time to look on the best and brightest side."
Emma put her arm suddenly around Kathie.
"What is it," she asked, in a husky voice,—"what is it that makes you sweet and patient and tender and forgiving, always ready to minister to others and to the poor, even if you are laughed at and teased? Maybe it's the same grace that takes away the fear of death! O, I wish I knew! I wish I had it! I am sometimes so miserable, Kathie. Do you believe that your God could love and pity me a little?"
"'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.'"
It was all that Kathie could think of to say as Emma stopped short in her walk, trembling, excited, and tearful.
"But how to come?"
Kathie hesitated. It seemed that she knew so little herself, how then could she direct another? She remembered the other time when she failed to bear witness, and though her shy, delicate nature shrank from anything like a parade of her most sacred feelings, strength was given her when she asked for it.
"I do not know how it is always—" in her sweet, faltering voice, "but when I first wanted to try—to be good,—to follow Him even a little, it was just as if I reached out my hand and prayed him to take it, and kept close to him by endeavoring to do what he wishes—"
"And you did not have—any great light—"
"I had only a love and a desire to obey him. And it seemed as if everybody helped me,—mamma, Aunt Ruth, and Uncle Robert. But there is always something to overcome, some battle to fight."
"And I am a poor, raw recruit. Do you think He will accept me, Kathie?"
"Every one—to the uttermost."
They walked to the corner, where their paths diverged.
"I wish you would come and see me," Kathie said, with her ready grace. "Fred was there occasionally last summer, and Uncle Robert liked him so much!"
"And you will forgive that—revenge? Perhaps I ought to have waited."
Kathie's look was sufficient, though she could not have spoken.
But the child went home in a gravely sweet frame of mind. She was in a mood to tell Uncle Robert the whole story that evening; but there were several guests, so there could be no confidences.
The next morning, after school was opened, Mrs. Wilder rose and told them she had a few words to say upon a subject that had been a source of much disquiet for several days; and then she very kindly but wisely took up the matter that had so divided and agitated the girls, and severely condemned the folly of which some of them had been guilty. "They would find as they grew older," she said, "that with people of culture and refinement social distinctions did not depend so much on a little more or a little less money, but nobleness of soul, thought, and feeling,—deeds that could brave and endure the scrutiny of clear eyes, and not those which must always slink away and hide themselves behind whispered insinuations."
It seemed, after all, as if, in some mysterious way, Mrs. Wilder had learned all the particulars. She mentioned no names, and did not in the least seek to exalt Kathie; but the child knew by the kiss and the lingering glance bestowed upon her that afternoon that all her silence and pain had been appreciated.
If Belle needed anything further to lower her self-esteem, she had it on her return home. Mr. Conover, Mrs. Alston, and Mrs. Grayson had met at the house of a mutual friend when Mrs. Hadden happened to call.
"Belle," she began, sharply, "how could you have committed such a blunder as to omit that pretty little Miss Alston from your party-list? Her mother and her uncle are very charming people, and they have a host of elegant friends in New York. Mrs. Havens was here last summer to visit them, and those aristocratic Merediths are warm friends of theirs. I am so sorry it should have happened!"
"Miss Alston is a regular little Methodist,—too good to go to parties," returned Belle, rather crossly.
And so ended the reign of the patricians. Belle somehow lost prestige at school. Even Lottie began to be pleasant again with Kathie, secretly hoping that Belle would never repeat her unlucky remark.
Dick Grayson and Charlie had to tell Kathie one evening how they spoiled a good deal of the fun at Belle Hadden's party.
"I felt so sorry," Kathie said, gravely.
"Well, you are the queerest girl I ever saw," was Charlie's comment; yet something inside told him she was a noble one as well.
But the sweetest of all was the talk with Uncle Robert.