Chapter VIII: Part 8

"Well," he answered, as he handed out the crisp ten dollar bill, which paid the price marked on the pillow, "well, I must make it up to the Rosas in some other way." Then turning toward Edith, "thank you, Miss Blair, for waiting on me, although you did give me a bad quarter of a minute, when you made me believe that I might have missed the purchase which I came expressly to make." So with a pleasant smile, carrying the pretty cushion on one arm, he walked across the room with Ruth.

Belle, as she watched them, could not help thinking how well they looked together, even though for the moment she felt a little jealousy of Ruth's growing popularity. Neither the evening before, nor during the whole progress of the Bazaar, had Belle received any special attention from even one of "the boys" as Philip and his friends were called collectively. Ruth, to be sure, was nearly a year and a half older than "The Four," and it was more natural that she should receive a little more attention of the kind that young ladies receive. But Belle thought that she herself felt as old as she should ever feel, and now since she wore her hair done up, and had skirts that almost touched, she did not see why she should not be treated just as if she were "grown up." To suit her ideas, therefore, of the deportment of a young lady, she had begun to assume a very coquettish manner. But this, instead of producing the desired effect--that of gaining for her great admiration, only amused the boys, and led them to make fun of her when by themselves. Edith through Philip, and Nora through her brother, had some knowledge of this fact. But Brenda regarded Belle with more or less awe, and considered her an exceedingly worldly-wise person. When, therefore, Belle proposed to her that instead of selling the water-color painting of which I have spoken, at a fixed price, they should vote it to the most popular young man of their acquaintance, Brenda acquiesced.

"You see it will be this way," said Belle, "we can get people to vote by taking shares."

"How much will the shares be?"

"Oh, a dollar, and we can easily sell a hundred and fifty dollars worth. I am sure that is a great deal better than letting the picture go for one hundred dollars."

"But isn't that the same as a raffle?"

"No, stupid, of course not."

"For you know that Mrs. Blair has forbidden us to have any raffles."

"Yes, I know about that rule, and a very silly rule it is, too," replied Belle, "but this isn't at all the same thing as a raffle. People just pay for the privilege of voting, and don't expect any gain for themselves, as they would in a lottery or raffle. It's a good thing, too, for the person they vote for, it's doing him good, and no one can disapprove of a plan to help other people," said Belle with an unselfishness of sentiment that could not have been looked for in her.

"Oh, no," said Brenda, hesitatingly, "I suppose not."

"All the same," Belle had continued, "I think that we had better not say anything to Edith and Nora about it, they might interfere in some way, and besides I am sure that they both have enough to do looking after their own tables."

"Well, but how can we get any votes if we do not say anything to anybody?" enquired Brenda.

"Oh, of course we must take Frances into our confidence. She is at the table where the picture is. There won't be much danger of its selling at once for one hundred dollars, and we can trust Frances to head any one off who pretends to wish to buy it."

So it was as a result of this plan of Belle's that Frances had prevented a sale of the picture to Madame du Launy. For at that time Brenda and Belle had a number of names on their books, enough in fact to represent one half the valuation of the picture. Each girl who voted was bound to secrecy, for Belle realized (though she had put it in a different light to Brenda) that she was violating the spirit, if not the letter of Mrs. Blair's command. Nevertheless the very fact that the carrying out of this plan involved a certain amount of mystery, gave the whole thing more zest than it would otherwise have had for the two.

Strangely enough, however, after the first fifty votes had been cast, with a great scattering as to the most popular youth, the two girls found it hard to get more names. The evening, indeed, was half over before the list had increased to sixty votes.

About this time an awkward thing happened. Running upstairs from the dining-room, Belle had dropped the neat little book in which she kept record of her votes, and when one of the maids handed it to Mrs. Blair, great was her surprise to find on the fly-leaf the sentence "voting contest for the picture."

"Whose handwriting is this?" she asked Edith, "and what does this all mean; surely none of you is carrying on a raffle."

"It's Belle's writing," answered Edith a little reluctantly, for she saw that her mother was angry. "But I do not know what it means."

Well after this, of course Belle was summoned to talk with Mrs. Blair, and though she reiterated that she had only desired to make as much money as she could for the Bazaar, Mrs. Blair insisted that Belle should give her all that she had already received to return to those who had subscribed or voted. Brenda, too, came in for a good share of reproof, and the whole thing was very humiliating to the two girls, who found themselves so clearly in the wrong. Beyond obliging them to conform, however, to her views of what was proper, Mrs. Blair had no intention of making them unduly uncomfortable.

"Think no more about it," she said, "only remember that you have prevented the sale of the picture, for I saw to-day that Madame Du Launy was very anxious to buy it."

After hearing this Brenda and Belle, although mortified, decided to make the best of the rest of the evening. They merely explained to some of the voters who asked them, that it had been decided to give up this plan for disposing of the picture, and that the money would be returned.

The episode of Madame Du Launy in the afternoon, and this little unpleasant incident of the evening were the only things to make this Bazaar seem very different from other Bazaars.

You know what they are all like, and that each fair or sale or Bazaar depends for its charm on the unity with which the workers carry things on, and the extent to which their friends patronize it, and I will say for "The Four" that they were much more in harmony through this whole affair than often they had been in the past, and that their friends--especially their young friends--did even more than had been expected of them to help swell the fund for the Rosas.

Brenda had been anxious to have one or two of this interesting family on the spot to work on the sympathies of the patrons of the Bazaar. She had thought that it would be delightful to have Angelina wait on the refreshment table, and she did not see why Manuel might not have been present all the time. "In some kind of fancy costume, of course, for I know that his own clothes would not be exactly clean and whole."

But Mrs. Blair had objected to the presence of the Rosas whether in fancy dress, or in their usual garb, and Mrs. Barlow had succeeded in making Brenda see that it would not be the best thing in the world for the Rosa children to be introduced to what must seem to them a scene of great luxury in a Back Bay house, even though it might be explained to them that part of the gorgeousness was due to a desire to help them--the special gorgeousness, I mean, of the Bazaar.

"Who in the world is to take care of all the money?" asked Nora, as she looked at the large tin box almost running over with silver and bills taken in as receipts at the various tables.

"Oh, Mrs. Blair is to put it in her safe to-night, and to-morrow it will be exchanged at the bank for large bills!" answered Brenda.

"And then----?"

"And then we must have a committee meeting to decide what is to be done with it. When it was last counted there were nearly three hundred dollars, and there has been something added to it since."

"Why, how perfectly splendid!" cried Nora; "why we should be able to do almost anything we wish to do for the Rosas; why, it is a regular fortune!" for Nora had ideas almost as vague as Brenda of the value of money.

"Oh, yes, we've done very well, but I am glad that it is all over; the Bazaar has been fun, but it is kind of a relief not to have it on my mind any more."

"Oh, Brenda, it hasn't worried you much, you took things very easy until the last day or two."

"Well, that's just it; I've felt so busy to-day, that I would like to rest for a week."

"But you haven't been half as busy as Julia, she has hardly left her post all day, and I think that she looks pretty tired."

"Dear me," said Brenda crossly, "if she had not wished to serve at the flower booth, we could have found some other girl to do it. Oh, Julia," she cried as her cousin drew near her, "are you coming home in the carriage with me?"

"Why, yes, if you wish it."

"Well, it has just taken papa and mamma home, and when it comes back, I shall be ready."

The pretty dancing-hall now presented a thoroughly disordered appearance. It was strewn with wrapping papers that had been pushed from behind the tables, or had been thrown there by careless persons who had tossed down the coverings of their surprise packages. There were also a number of faded flowers lying about, and the tables themselves were in confused heaps. For, of course, not everything had sold, and the "remains" as one of the boys called what was left, had to stay on the tables until the morning.

When Brenda and Julia were finally ready to go home, they were almost the last to leave. Even the Cambridge boys had said "good-bye" and Ruth and Frances had started for home.

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Blair, for letting us come here," said Brenda, as they left the room. For Brenda seldom forgot her good manners where older people were concerned, even though she was sometimes inclined to be pettish toward her younger friends.

"Why, what is that?" she enquired, as Julia had a large package lifted into the carriage.

"It's that water-color that was on Edith's table."

"Why, what are you taking it home for?"

"I have bought it," replied Julia quietly, "and I am going to give it to Aunt Anna."

Brenda was almost too much surprised to speak, for this was the picture which she and Belle had tried to raffle.

"But you did not pay one hundred dollars for it?"

"Why not?" said Julia with a smile, as they reached their door.

XXVII

A MISTAKE

Brenda, herself, was too sleepy that night when she reached home, to express her surprise at Julia's having bought the picture. Yet she certainly wondered that the cousin whom she had hitherto regarded as bound down to economy, should have been able to spend so large a sum for a single purchase. Julia on her part was not surprised at her cousin's indifference, for Brenda had a way of seeming curious or especially interested only in relation to things that immediately concerned her. When they had separated, and Julia was alone in her own room, she had opportunity for the first time since the morning for thinking over all the events of the day. Her place at the Bazaar had been a very pleasant one, and while she had not had much to do with any of the girls except Ruth, her attention had been constantly occupied in disposing of her flowers. Philip and his friends had been especially good patrons, and the former had taken the chances that came to him of going up to the table and talking to Julia on one thing and another, not always connected with the Bazaar or with the Rosas. In spite of a certain amount of conceit--and what young sophomore is without this quality--Philip was really a very agreeable fellow, and in Julia he had some one ready to listen to him more attentively than was Edith's habit, or indeed that of the other girls. For Belle, for example, although she liked what she called "attention" from the boys of her set, wished to have the conversation turn entirely upon herself and her own affairs, and she always showed impatience when the person with whom she was talking turned to any other subject. Now Philip--though in this he was not so very different from other young men--liked to have some one to talk to who would listen sympathetically to his tales of college triumphs, or grievances, and occasionally give him a word of advice. In Julia he found not only an attentive listener, but an intelligent adviser. So although the Bazaar was not just the place for confidences, he had been able to have several pleasant little snatches of conversation with Julia. She had enjoyed these little fragmentary talks as much as Philip had, and they both had had much amusement from his rather clumsy attempts to help her in arranging bouquets for her customers.

Julia, therefore, had many pleasant things to recall connected with the Bazaar, and not the least pleasant was the fact that she had been able to contribute a good deal toward helping the Rosas.

The one strange feature of the whole affair had been the sudden departure of Madame Du Launy. "And why," mused Julia, "did Miss South go away without bidding me good-bye? I know that she meant to stay until evening. Well, perhaps it will all be explained. Though certainly now I cannot understand it all. Perhaps to-morrow--" and here Julia fell asleep with the question still unsettled.

Early the next morning--as soon at least as she had had her breakfast, Julia started off to find Miss South, but the maid at her boarding-house said that she had gone out and probably would not be back before evening; with this she had to be content, although in addition to general enquiries about the strange event of the day before, she wished to talk over with Miss South some of the plans which they had been discussing for the assistance of the Rosa family. They had been finally successful in getting Mrs. Rosa to promise to go to the country for the summer, if for no longer a time. They had found a house in Shiloh, a small village with elevated land not so very far from Boston, and they were sure that a residence there would benefit the sick woman. A man whom Miss South knew, who had been at one time given up by the doctors as in hopeless consumption, had moved to this village, and after a year had been pronounced almost well. He had opened a little shop there, his children had found employment for their spare hours, and the family had at last started on the high road to prosperity. This was a great change for them, for during their father's illness in town, they had often had to have charitable relief. Miss South's plan for Mrs. Rosa included a certain amount of work for the family. A farmer had been found who promised to employ the oldest boy, and a woman who took summer boarders said that she could pay Angelina two dollars a week, to help in her kitchen, if she could sleep at home. The house which they had selected had a small piece of land where it was hoped that Mrs. Rosa could raise some vegetables.

To accomplish what they wished, considerable money was needed, and they had enlisted Brenda's interest to so great an extent that she professed herself perfectly willing to have the money raised at the Bazaar used to rent and equip the house, and pay the many little expenses that would be caused by the enterprise. "As Brenda really has been interested in Manuel, it would be hardly fair to leave her out of this plan, although," said Julia, "although we might get on without her help."

"Oh, dear, no," Miss South had said, "it would never in the world do to overlook Brenda. She is an impulsive little thing, and although Mrs. Rosa and the children might have fared badly this winter, had they had no one but Brenda to depend on, still it is a great advance for Brenda to be interested in some one besides herself, and it is excellent discipline for her to have a certain share in carrying out this plan. It is not altogether a matter of money."

Now, Brenda, of course, in deciding to favor the plan proposed by Miss South was not acting entirely for herself. Edith, Nora, and Belle were as much concerned as she, and Nora in fact, as the rescuer of Manuel, was more interested than any of the others. Belle, the only one who might have been expected to oppose Miss South's plan, really had no objection to it. Her one thought in the whole matter had been to get as much pleasure and glory as possible out of the Bazaar itself. Edith, while practical about some things,--needlework for example, and lessons,--seldom put her mind on money matters, and Nora was as heedless about this as about other things. Brenda was almost as heedless, and yet The Four had thought it perfectly proper that she should be treasurer of their little fund.

So it happened that on the very morning when Julia was trying to find Miss South, Brenda had received from Mrs. Blair's hands four crisp one hundred dollar notes. This was a little more than had been taken at the Bazaar. But in getting the loose bills and cheques changed into more compact form, Mrs. Blair had added enough to make the sum an even four hundred dollars.

The other three girls were with Brenda as she received the money from Mrs. Blair, and immediately they sat down to count up the expenses that must be paid from their receipts. Rather to Mrs. Blair's surprise these expenses mounted up to more than one hundred dollars, and she scolded The Four a little for having engaged an expensive orchestra for the music of the preceding evening, when music was not really needed at all. The ices and other things furnished the refreshment room made another large item in the bills, although there had been some profit from this department.

"I will take one of your one hundred dollar bills, and with it pay the expenses," said Mrs. Blair, "and I would advise you to take care of the three hundred dollars, for after all it is not a large sum to be used toward the support of a sick woman and five children."

"Of course we'll take care of it, at least Brenda will," cried Nora, as Brenda folded the money away carefully in her purse, and placed the purse in a small leather bag. Then they went home with Brenda, and they saw her lock the bag into her top bureau drawer.

After this they sat for a while as girls will, idly talking about the affairs of the day, while Mrs. Barlow's French maid bustled about, laying away some new waists and skirts of Brenda's that had just come home from the dressmaker's.

"Look," at last cried Brenda, jumping up from her seat impetuously, "look, Marie, did you ever see so much money," and opening the drawer and the purse she brandished the three hundred dollar bills before the eyes of the young Frenchwoman.

"Oh, my! Mees," cried Marie, "three dollars, that is not so very much!"

"Three dollars!" shouted Brenda, "three hundred dollars, what you call twelve hundred francs."

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Marie, her eyes almost jumping out of her head, "oh, my! I never did see so much money, let me look." So they let her touch the bills, and they laughed at the comments she made, and especially when she cried, "Louis would marry me if that money was mine."

"I thought he was going to anyway," said Belle, "you have always said that you were engaged."

"Oh, yes," she replied. "Oh, yes, sometime, perhaps, but it takes much money to get married. If I have to wait too long, perhaps Louis will find another girl with more money. But no matter." And she went out of the room looking much less cheerful than before she had seen the money.

"How mercenary!" said Belle as she disappeared, for Belle always had a word large enough to fit every happening.

"Well, it must be hard not to have any money but just what you earn every week," interposed Edith sympathetically.

"Oh it's better not to have much money than to have a man think only of that in marrying you," responded Belle in her most worldly-wise voice.

"Come, I think that we are talking of things that we know nothing about," said Nora, "but if I were you, Brenda, I would not let every one in the house know where that money is."

"Nonsense, I always carry the key with me, and anyway it won't be here long," answered Brenda.

"No matter, if I were you I would give it to Mr. Barlow to take down town."

"Yes, you ought to," added Edith.

"Oh, what fusses you are!" cried Brenda, "any one would think that I was a two-year-old baby."

Just then there was a tap at the door.

"May I come in?" said a voice, which they at once recognized as Julia's.

"Yes, indeed," cried Nora and Edith, and the former flung the door wide open and greeted Julia with a kiss.

"Where have you been, but of course you have been to see Miss South. It was so funny that she did not stay last evening. What was the reason?"

"Well I did not find her; she was not expected home to-day," answered Julia.

"How queer!"

"Why, to tell you the truth, I was a little surprised myself, for we had an appointment together this morning, although if we had not had one, I should have gone up there to find out if she was ill yesterday."

"Oh, tell me," enquired Edith, "have you heard anything about Madame Du Launy? Mamma said that she would send there to enquire this morning, but I have not been home since she sent."

"Yes," said Julia, "I did make enquiries at the house, and was told that she was feeling pretty well to-day, but that she could not see anybody."

"Not even you!" exclaimed Belle, a little sarcastically.

"Not even me," replied Julia pleasantly. "I suppose for one thing that the Bazaar yesterday tired her. They tell me that it is the first time in twenty years that she has been inside of any house in Boston besides her own."

"I wonder if that is true," said Edith, reflectively.

"Yes, I believe that it is," answered Julia. "Madame Du Launy said almost as much to me, although I must admit that she never talks very much about that kind of thing. As often as I have seen her this spring, she has never said a word to me on the subject of Boston people and their attitude to her,--or her attitude to them--" she hastened to add.

"You talk like a book, Julia," said Brenda, who had complained once or twice that Julia talked too precisely, "like a school-teacher," she generally said, when she spoke on the subject to Belle.

Julia laughed good-naturedly. Brenda's little arrows did less harm now than in the earlier part of the season.

"So long as I make myself clear, it is all right, isn't it?" she asked.

"Oh, of course," answered Brenda, "but you and Belle always do use such alarmingly correct expressions."

"Brenda," called Mrs. Barlow from the floor below. The girls exchanged glances. There was something ominous in the tone, and even the dilatory Brenda decided that it would be best to respond as quickly as possible to the summons.

Thereupon the other girls rose to go. In fact, the morning was almost over, and during the two or three hours which The Four had spent together they had talked about everything connected with the Bazaar until there was little more for them to say. The late hours which they had been keeping were telling upon them all, and if any one of them had been asked to tell what she felt the most need of at that particular moment, she would probably have said, "A good nap."

Julia, however, was the only one to say frankly that she felt sleepy, and she excused herself as the others went downstairs, while they bade her good-bye at the door of her own room. She had been there but a few minutes seated in a wicker easy-chair before the long window which afforded a beautiful view of the river, when the door was hastily flung open, and in a second Brenda stood before her.

"I think that you are just as mean as you can be, Julia Bourne," she cried angrily. "It does seem as if I ought not to have spies in my own house watching everything that I do and carrying tales just as if I were a baby."

"Why, what do you mean, Brenda?" asked Julia in genuine astonishment.

"You know very well what I mean. You and Miss South, you saw me with Belle the other afternoon; oh, it wasn't so long ago that you could forget it, you saw us down there by the Music Hall and you told mamma that we had been there. Anyway, I do not see whose business it is. We are old enough to go about by ourselves, but I think that you are just as mean as you can be," and with this final outburst Brenda flung herself from the room without giving Julia time to reply.

The latter for a moment sat in her chair completely puzzled. Then she remembered the day on which she and Miss South returning from the North End had seen Belle and Brenda in Winter Street. The two girls had disappeared so quickly that she did not suppose at the time that they had seen her. Now, however, it seemed that they had been merely in hiding. But of one thing she was sure, she had never spoken of the encounter to her aunt, and all this torrent of anger on Brenda's part was wholly uncalled for. It did seem too bad that Brenda should have taken this tone just as she had begun to hope that she and her cousin were to understand each other. On the other hand the case was not very serious, since to Brenda in a calmer mood it would be very easy to give an explanation. Yet if it were not for her uncle and aunt, who were always considerate, Julia now felt that it would be hard for her to continue under the same roof with Brenda. Julia herself, had always been closely observant of the golden rule. Nor was her piety of the kind that was displayed only on occasions. She had been most regular in her attendance at Sabbath-school, and she and Nora and Edith never thought of letting rain, or heat, or any other thing prevent their attendance at the morning service as well. But besides these outward observances she kept the spirit of the teachings of her Church, or tried to keep them in her daily life. Neither Brenda, therefore, nor any one else could accuse her of hypocrisy. She believed strongly in the soft answer that turneth away wrath, and yet no one could say that behind any one else's back she indulged in harsh criticism.

At luncheon Brenda did not come to the table, and a question or two from Mrs. Barlow brought out the fact that Brenda had vented on her cousin part of the annoyance that she had felt at her mother's reproof.

"Of course I shall make it clear to Brenda that I did not get my information from you. Indeed I do not see how she could have thought so. I certainly intimated that I had had my information from some one who had seen her in the hall. In going there with Belle, Brenda broke two well-understood rules of mine. In the first place she is not allowed to go down town except with some older person. It the second place I disapprove of young girls going to matinees of any kind, and the performance they went to see was not at all a proper one for them. I know that I had previously declined to take them. Brenda knew my opinion of this particular performance, and two friends of mine who saw her and Belle there were exceedingly surprised that I had permitted them to go alone. They spoke of the matter incidentally to me, and in that way I learned of Brenda's disobedience. But I am sorry that Brenda should have troubled you about the affair, for I know that when she is angry she can say very disagreeable things."

"It is not of very much consequence, Aunt Anna," replied Julia, "as long as it is a thing that can be straightened out. If I really had seen Brenda at the Hall, I might have mentioned the fact without realizing that it could make her so angry, but when she understands about this I am sure that we shall be as good friends as ever."

"I hope so," responded Mrs. Barlow.

XXVIII

EXPLANATIONS

Now it happened that on Thursday afternoon Julia went to Nora's and stayed all night. The next morning the two went out to Roxbury to fulfil a promise to Ruth to pass a day and night with her. Thus it happened that Julia and Brenda did not see each other until Saturday evening. They then met in the presence of an elderly friend of Mrs. Barlow's who had come to stay over Sunday with the family, and so Brenda had no opportunity of making an apology--if she intended to make one for her language of the subject of the matinee. For Mrs. Barlow, of course, had explained her error to Brenda, and though the latter had not expressed great contrition, her mother knew that in the end she would do what was right. Luckily Julia herself was not one to feel resentment, for Sunday passed without her hearing a word on the subject from Brenda.

After the second service on Sunday, Miss South joined Julia just outside the church door. "I am very glad to see you," she said, "for I was greatly disappointed in missing you the other day. I have many things to tell you, if you will walk with me for half an hour."

This Julia was pleased to do, for it was a beautiful afternoon, and moreover, she was anxious to hear why Miss South had gone away so suddenly from Edith's, on the afternoon of the Bazaar.

"I must begin at the beginning, Julia," said Miss South, "for you are old enough to hear a rather romantic story at first hand, which otherwise you might hear in an incorrect form."

"I won't say that I have been curious, Miss South," replied Julia, "although I have thought that in some mysterious way your going off had some connection with Madame Du Launy."

"That is true logic on your part," responded Miss South, "and you will be interested to hear that I have spent several hours since Wednesday with Madame Du Launy. Before I forget it I must tell you that she was very sorry that she could not see you when you called. She told me to say this to you as a special message from her."

"Thank you," answered Julia, "but I am very anxious to hear what you have to say. I feel sure that it is something very interesting."

Miss South smiled. "Then I must begin at the very beginning. You may have noticed that rather striking portrait of a young girl in the room where Madame Du Launy usually receives her visitors. Well, that young girl was my mother." Julia naturally gave a start of surprise, and for a moment her mind occupied itself in reproducing an image of this portrait. Then Miss South resumed her story.

"Yes, my mother was the only one of Madame Du Launy's children who married, and she married against her mother's will. My father was a very independent man, and when his wife's mother said that she would never forgive her for having married a poor man without family or position, he accepted this as final. He would not let my mother make any attempt at reconciliation, yet had she made such efforts I am sure that they would have been unsuccessful. He took her to Ohio first, and after a time they moved further west. We lived from the earliest time that I can remember, very simply and economically, but we had the advantage of good schools,--we two children, I mean--and when I showed a desire to go to college I was sent to the State University of the State where we had grown up. My brother, as I told you, was several years younger than I, and was only preparing for college when my father died. Our mother had died when we were little children, and in accordance with our father's wishes we had heard little about our grandmother besides her name. Once he had told us that she was an embittered old woman, and that she had not shown any regard for him, or my mother after her marriage. We knew that Boston had been our mother's home for a time, although most of her youth had been spent in wandering around Europe with her parents. After our father's death I thought once or twice of trying to find out whether or not our grandmother was alive. But my brother always dissuaded me, so keen was his resentment for the way she had treated our father. My telling him that this had been mere prejudice on her part--for she never had met my father--did not make him change his mind. He made me believe that it would be disrespect to both our parents if I should seek my grandmother. When I came to Boston, and heard about this peculiar Madame Du Launy, who lived opposite the school, I felt that she must be my grandmother, and some letters and a picture--a small water-color of the house--made it perfectly clear that in this surmise I was correct. Before the Bazaar I had decided in the course of the spring, to make myself known to Madame Du Launy, and I ought to tell you that it was your account of her gentler side that led me to think seriously of doing this."

"How very interesting!" cried Julia. "Why, I never heard anything like it. But why did not Madame Du Launy ever try to find you?"

"For the very good reason that she did not know of my existence. You see my mother never wrote to her after the first months of her marriage when my grandmother returned all her letters unopened. Yet Madame Du Launy--I find it very hard to say 'Grandmother' had heard that my mother had had one or two children, but she had also been told that they had died. All that she heard, however, was mere rumor, for she was too proud to write to my father after her daughter's death. But of late years, she says, she has been very unhappy, and has thought much about my mother. It was my close resemblance to her portrait that caused her to faint the other day. I have a photograph made from that portrait, and occasionally I dress my hair in the same style, those old fashions are somewhat in vogue now, and I can do so with propriety. My grandmother says that I am wonderfully like my mother."

"Dear me!" said Julia, "it is more interesting than a novel. I suppose that now you will go to live with Madame Du Launy, and we shall lose you at school."

Miss South smiled. "I shall certainly finish out my present year of teaching, although it is probable that I may go to live with Madame Du Launy." Then after a pause, "There is one thing that I ought to say, Julia, because I know that already it is reported that I am to be a great heiress. Madame Du Launy has a good income, but it comes from an annuity, and when she dies it will die with her. She seemed to think that she ought to explain this to me before asking me to live with her. The house is hers outright, and she has said that she will give it to me and my brother. I would not speak of this if it were not that I should be placed in a false position otherwise. In fact I am the more ready to go to live with my grandmother, because she is not the enormously rich woman that she has been represented to be. But now I have talked enough about myself, so let us turn to the Rosas."

"Why, yes," responded Julia, "I have been wondering whether or not you had seen them since the Bazaar."

"Yes, I was able to go down yesterday, and I found Mrs. Rosa quite ready to go to the country. I did not feel at liberty to tell her of the success of the efforts of 'The Four,' but I told her that money was certain to be furnished for the expense of removing her, and setting her up in the little home that we have planned for her."

"Wasn't she perfectly delighted?"

"Well, she did not show a great deal of emotion. She is almost too weak for that, but I am sure that she is pleased, although she has a certain amount of regret at leaving the city."

"She ought to be perfectly thankful to leave that wretched place."

"It does not look quite as wretched and dirty to her as it does to us, and after all home is home, and the North End has been her home for many years."

"I won't ask what the children think of the change, for I shall see them myself in a day or two, and I suppose that I ought to be going home now. But I do wish to tell you how delighted I am about your good fortune in finding your grandmother. You know that I have grown quite fond of Madame Du Launy myself, and I have been so sorry for her loneliness that I am very glad indeed that she is to have you to live with her. Now, here I suppose that I ought to leave you at this corner, so good-bye until to-morrow."

"Wait a moment, Julia, I have been so wrapped up in myself that I have not given you a message from Madame Du Launy. At least she wished me to tell you that your kindness in running in to see her this spring had been greatly appreciated, and that she has been made very happy by the glimpses of fresh, young life that you have given her. In the future she hopes to see much more of you and of some of your young friends. Poor grandmother! It is her own fault that she has been so shut out from people and interesting things here in Boston. But in her youth she was a very sharped tongued and overbearing woman,--she says this herself--and she so resented the criticisms which people made on her marriage that she was only too glad to give up their society, and in return for their criticisms she said so many sharp things that even if she had wished it, there was small chance of her having pleasant associations with most of the families of her acquaintance. Oh! before we part there is one thing that I must tell you about Mrs. Rosa. It seems that she has been greatly annoyed lately by a young man, the son of an old friend of hers, who for several years was in the habit of lending her small sums of money. The friend had given her to understand that these sums were gifts in repayment of kindnesses that Mrs. Rosa had done her friend in her youth. In fact the young man's mother had borrowed from the Rosas in their prosperous days. Lately, however, this friend has died, and her son has a little book in which the money lent Mrs. Rosa amounts with interest to two hundred dollars. He claims that it is a debt due him, and though he cannot collect anything from a person who has nothing, he annoys Mrs. Rosa very much by coming to her house and telling her that she ought to get some of her rich friends to help her pay the debt. He is very well off himself, for a Portuguese, and his behavior is a kind of persecution."

"Well," said Julia, "I must tell the girls, for if they should let Mrs. Rosa have even a little of the money----"

"He would certainly wheedle it from her, and you ought to give them a word of warning."

As they parted Julia felt that she had many things to think about--many more things than she had had to consider for a long time. When she reached home she found the family all discussing some of the rumors that had come to them about Madame Du Launy and Miss South, and she was glad that she had had her information at first hand, and that she could contradict some rather absurd rumors that were in circulation.

"The worst thing about it," said Mrs. Barlow, "appears to be the fact that by this turn of Fortune's wheel, Miss Crawdon's school is likely to lose one of its best teachers."

"I am not so sure of that," responded Julia; "I have an idea that Miss South may continue to teach; she is very fond of her work----"

"But her grandmother will certainly wish her to give all her time to her, and her first duty will be with her."

"Whatever her duty is, I am sure that she will do it," replied Julia; "she is the most conscientious person I have ever known; just think of her going down to see Mrs. Rosa this very week, when she must have had so much to interest her in at her grandmother's."

"By the way," asked Mr. Barlow, "are Miss South and Madame Du Launy sure that they are correct in their surmises about the relationship? They must have some stronger proof than personal resemblance, and the possession of one or two old pictures."

"Oh, yes," interposed Mrs. Barlow, "I believe that Miss South has many other proofs to show in the way of letters, certificates, and some other things that belonged to her mother."

"Then her name, too,--you know she is called Lydia from a sister of Madame Du Launy's who died young, and--why how foolish we are, of course Madame Du Launy always knew that the name of the man whom her daughter married was George South, the name of your teacher's father. One of her objections to him was his plebeian name," said Mrs. Barlow's cousin who had remained over Sunday.

Brenda had had less comment to make on these exciting events than had Julia, and even Mr. and Mrs. Barlow had seemed to take more interest in this romance of Madame Du Launy and Miss South. If the truth must be told Brenda was really half worn out. Her vacation had been anything but restful. The Bazaar by itself need not have tired her had she not in the latter part of the week spent almost every hour in some kind of vigorous exercise in search of what she and Belle called "fun." There had been two long bicycle rides, one dancing party, a three hours' walk to Brookline and back one day, and other things that really had told on her strength. Moreover her conscience was pricking her. For on the preceding afternoon, moved by an impulse which she now regretted, she had persuaded Nora to go with her to the North End to visit Mrs. Rosa. This was not long after Miss South had left the sick woman, and they found Mrs. Rosa somewhat depressed, first at the thought that she was really going to leave the city, second by the fact that her persistent creditor had just been in and had told her that he might "take the law on her"--so she quoted him, if she did not pay the money which he found written against her name in his mother's little book. Now Mrs. Rosa ought to have rested herself on Miss South's assurance that the young man could not make good his claim in law, but she was only a rather ignorant foreigner to whom the power of the law meant that she might be dragged off to the nearest police station by the brass-buttoned officers. She did not tell the young girls about her creditor, but when they pitied her for looking so ill, she sighed so sadly that they felt very sorry indeed for her. Marie, who had accompanied them to the North End had left them for a quarter of an hour to see a friend of hers living in the neighborhood, and then Brenda had no one but Nora to remonstrate with her for any folly she might wish to commit. When, therefore, out of a small bag which she carried, she took her purse,--her best purse with the silver monogram,--and when from the purse she extracted the three hundred-dollar notes, the proceeds of the Bazaar, even Nora gave a little gasp.

"Why, Brenda, how did you ever dare to bring that money down to this part of the city?"

"Why shouldn't I, you goose! I am sure that it will do Mrs. Rosa more good to see this money than anything else possibly could. See! Mrs. Rosa" she continued, "this is all yours, this three hundred dollars that we made at the Bazaar that we have been telling you about----" For Nora and she had expatiated on the charms of the occasion--the flowers, the music, and the many pretty articles that had been displayed on the tables. In fact they had brought several simple little things as presents for Mrs. Rosa and the children, and while the former probably did not understand all that they said to her, she did realize that some one had been at a great deal of trouble for her, and that this money was the result.

"All for me, oh tank you," she said, reaching her hand out towards the bills. Nora hastily jerked Brenda's arm.

"You mustn't give them to her."

Now up to this moment, Brenda had had no intention of doing this. "Why, Nora, really I think that I understand things as well as you do." Nora for the moment forgot the effect which opposition usually had on Brenda. Mrs. Rosa glanced questioningly from one girl to the other.

"Why, yes, you may look at them close too, you may hold them," said Brenda, laying the bills on Mrs. Rosa's transparent hand. The expression on the poor woman's face brightened.

"The money means a great deal to her," said Nora, sympathetically.

"Yes," answered Brenda, "you see that I was right in giving it to her, I mean in letting her see it. She has a little color in her cheeks already. She knows what that money can do for her and her children." It was hard enough for Mrs. Rosa to understand English when spoken in a full voice, and she made no effort to comprehend the undertone in which the two girls were speaking.

"Are they for me to keep?" she asked eagerly.

"Not now," responded Brenda, "but by and by, next week, perhaps you shall have a little money to spend, and some of it we may spend for you to take you to the country, you know."

"Come, Brenda," said Nora, "we must not stay too long, if the children are not to be back until five o'clock, we cannot wait to see them. We ought to be watching for Marie now."

"I know, I know," retorted Brenda, impatiently, "I shall be ready when you are."

"If I could just have this money in the house for a little while," said Mrs. Rosa, with her quaint accent, "I should be so happy. I think it would make me sleep. I haven't slept for _so_ long," and she sighed and looked paler than ever.

"Poor thing," said Brenda, "I wish that I could give it to you now. Indeed I do not know why I should not, it is certainly yours, and I do not care for the responsibility myself,"--this speciously, for Brenda knew perfectly well that her father stood ready to take care of the money.

"Nora," she called rather sharply, "I think that we ought to let Mrs. Rosa have this money until we are ready to spend it. It is really hers now, people would not have come to the Bazaar, except to help the Rosas."

"Now, Brenda," cried Nora, "don't be foolish. I cannot imagine your doing so crazy a thing. It was bad enough for you to have brought the money down here. It was an awful risk, for suppose you had lost the purse,--oh, my," with a change of tone, "why there is Manuel. I must run out and speak to him," and in her usual heedless way Nora left the room with little thought for the subject which she and Brenda had the moment before been discussing.

Left alone with Mrs. Rosa, Brenda felt an increase of pity for the poor, pale woman, who looked as if she had very little more time to live. As she handled the bills with feverish fingers, Brenda made a quick resolve.

"Why should I not give her a pleasure that will cost me so little, and I am sure that no reasonable person can object.

"Mrs. Rosa," she said, leaning forward, "if I should let you keep that money for a few days, would you promise not to let the children see it. You must keep it right in this purse, and never let it out of your sight. I mean when any one is here you must keep it under your pillow, though of course when you are alone you can look at it."

Mrs. Rosa smiled gratefully, and Brenda taking the bills began to put them back in her portemonnaie. "I think," she said reflectively, "that I will keep one of these bills in case there are special things that Miss South or Julia may have planned for you." She could afford to be liberal in her feelings now that she was getting ready to do something that in the bottom of her heart she knew that the others who were interested in Mrs. Rosa would not approve. So she tied up the one hundred dollar bill, that she intended to keep, in a corner of her handkerchief, and placed it carefully in the bottom of her bag.

"Remember," she said, as she handed the little purse to Mrs. Rosa, "remember that you are not to spend this."

"O, I remember, I promise, miss," responded Mrs. Rosa, and just at this moment Nora reopened the door.

"Come, Brenda," she said, "Marie is outside waiting, and we ought to start for home at once. Good-bye, Mrs. Rosa, I suppose we shall hardly see you again in this uncomfortable room. Come on, Brenda, how long it takes you to put your gloves on!"

Brenda, of course was greatly relieved that Nora asked not another word about the money. But all the same her conscience had begun to trouble her, and after she reached home could she have thought of any way to do it, without betraying herself, she would have sent down to Mrs. Rosa's for the purse and its contents. On Sunday, at least in the morning, she had felt reassured.