Chapter XI: "he Will Do Anything for Sugar."

THE next morning, almost before she rose from the breakfast-table, Mrs. Ferarra was surprised by a visit from Miss Ackerman.

"What can have brought her so early?" she thought as she hastened to meet her friend.

She was still more astonished when she heard Miss Ackerman's errand, and her indignation was greater than her surprise.

"I think Maria must have been out of her senses," said she. "I never thought for a moment of the thimble being stolen, and I found it the next morning just where I left it. What could have put such a thing into her head?"

"Cousin Maria took a great dislike to Eunice, if you remember, mamma," said Anita. "I recollect now that she spoke as if she were very much surprised when she came in from Mrs. Gunderson's and saw you using the thimble. I dare say Miss Gunderson told her of the yarn, and she jumped at once to the conclusion that Eunice had taken the thimble likewise. But it was very wrong in her to say so. Poor Eunice! How unkind she must think us!"

"Rather more than unkind if she blames us at all," said Mrs. Ferarra. "Maria Fay has vexed me a good many times, but this is the worst of all. It is as Anita says: she took a dislike to Eunice from the beginning, as she is very apt to do, and was delighted to have her prejudice—her penetration, as she calls it—justified. 'I can read character at a glance' is a favorite phrase of hers. Moreover, she took up the fancy that we intended to adopt Eunice into the family—an idea which seemed to give her great offence for some reason or other."

"I think Cousin Maria had an intention of being adopted into the family herself," said Anita, shrewdly. "She threw out several broad hints to me of how useful she could be to me, and how much care she could take off your shoulders in the housekeeping."

"Yes, this is a specimen!" said Mrs. Ferarra. "If she has any notions of that kind, she may dismiss them at once.—But, Miss Ackerman, what is the best way of meeting this most absurd calumny?"

"That we must consider," replied Miss Ackerman. "So far as the class is concerned, the matter is very easily managed. I have a class-meeting at my house on Tuesday afternoon. I think it would be well for you to be present and tell the true story of the thimble, and I will relate that of the yarn."

"And I will call on Mrs. Gunderson and explain the matter to her," said Mrs. Ferarra. "I will also take pains to show my respect for Mrs. Riker and her daughter in every possible way. I have a plan in my head for the benefit of Eunice, but I must talk it over with my husband before I make it public. I think I shall learn to take care of my thimble, now that my carelessness has been the cause of so much trouble."

"Here comes Eunice herself," said Anita, looking out of the window.

"Run and meet her, my love, and bring her in yourself," said her mother. "We must try in every way to show that we respect her."

Eunice had risen early enough to do quite a washing before seven o'clock. She then prepared breakfast and called her mother, but Mrs. Riker's head was still too bad to think of going out.

"What shall we do?" said Mrs. Riker. "You won't want to go up to Mrs. Ferarra's alone, will you?"

"Oh, I don't mind that, if you are well enough to be left," replied Eunice, secretly not very sorry to have the matter left in her own hands, for Mrs. Riker was rather apt to become hysterical at exciting times. "I think I will go up directly after breakfast, so as to be sure of finding Mrs. Ferarra at home. Not that I believe she had anything to do with the matter."

"I'm sure I hope not," said Mrs. Riker; "I don't like to think ill of people who have been so kind to us. And, Eunice, when you come home, you might go to Patrick McGuire's and get five pounds of brown coffee-sugar. I would as soon have groceries as money for what he owes me, and I suppose it would accommodate him. It won't make your walk much longer if you go through the Red House lane and come out by Mr. Hazleton's."

"And then I can gather some Virginia creeper leaves," said Eunice; "they always turn a beautiful color on that stone wall."

"Very well, only don't pick poison-ivy instead."

"As if I did not know the difference by this time! Good-bye, mother. Don't do anything about the washing. There is time enough to finish all we are likely to have."

Never had the walk up the hill seemed so long and tiresome to Eunice as this morning, for never had she carried so heavy a heart. True, she did not believe Anita had done anything to injure her, but yet the thought would come, "What if she had?" She had learned to love Anita dearly, with that warm, all-trusting affection which a girl of her age bestows on those she admires; and it seemed to her that to find herself deceived and her friend false would be more than she could endure.

All her fears, however, were dispelled at once by Anita's greeting as she met her on the lawn:

"You darling girl! We were just talking about you. Come through the conservatory into mother's own room: she is there with Miss Ackerman."

Certainly, neither Anita's greeting nor her mother's left anything to be desired in the matter of cordiality.

Mrs. Ferarra came directly to the point:

"Eunice, have you heard this absurd story about my thimble?"

"Yes, ma'am," answered Eunice with a greatly-lightened heart. "It was that I came about. Is the thimble found?"

"It never was lost," answered Mrs. Ferarra. "I have had from childhood a very careless habit of putting my thimble down out of place, and I did so in this instance. I found it the next day, as I presumed I should, and the idea of its being stolen never entered my head for a moment, nor that of any one else except Miss Fay's, and she is, I am sorry to say, a very silly woman. I shall write to her to-day on the subject, and I shall take pains to contradict the story everywhere."

"How do you think the story about the yarn could have originated?" asked Miss Ackerman. "I never thought Mrs. Ray was a mischievous woman."

"No indeed!" answered Eunice. "She is an excellent woman, and one of the best friends I have. I think I know who started that story, Miss Ackerman, but I am not quite sure, and so I would rather say nothing about it."

"Perhaps that is the best way," said Miss Ackerman. "I shall give the true version of the tale to-morrow."

"Won't you stay and spend the day with Anita, Eunice?" said Mrs. Ferarra. "I shall be out most of the day, and she will be glad of a companion."

"Thank you, Mrs. Ferarra, but I don't see how I can," replied Eunice. "Mother is not very well, and we have always more work to do on Monday."

"You will at least wait and let me take you home in the carriage; I shall go out between eleven and twelve."

"I cannot even do that, though I should like it," said Eunice. "I have an errand on my way home.—I suppose, Anita, you will be at the class-meeting?"

"Oh yes, and also my 'fascinators,'" answered Anita. "I hope then the girls will be satisfied about the worsted."

It was with a lightened and thankful heart that Eunice took her way homeward. She bought her sugar amid many compliments from Patrick, who cherished a warm admiration for Eunice, and insisted on making her a present of some uncommonly fine oranges. When she left the shop, she turned into a lane which led past the old Red House, as it was called—a deserted and somewhat ruined mansion—on the veranda of which grew the finest Virginia creeper in all the country.

She stopped to gather a leaf here and there, and as she drew near the house, she started as a distressed cry of "Help! Help!" fell on her ear, followed by a curious cry between a whine and a growl.

She quickened her steps, and a turn of the road brought before her eyes a singular scene. There stood Julia Hazleton, pale and trembling, while right before her, and penning her into an angle of the wall, stood Mr. Ferarra's tame bear. He was clearly in no very good humor, for he raised himself on his hind legs and growled as Eunice approached, and seemed debating in his mind which to attack first.

A dozen thoughts passed through Eunice's mind in a second of time. Should she run and call for help? It was some distance to the nearest house, and who could tell what mischief might be done in the mean time?

"Oh, Eunice, what shall I do?" shrieked Julia as the bear gave another growl. "Oh, do help me!"

"He will do anything for sugar." It seemed as if some articulate voice spoke these words in Eunice's ear. She did not hesitate a moment. She pulled open the end of the paper of sugar, and, walking straight up to Bruin, she held the tempting sweet under his nose, saying in a coaxing tone, "Come, old man—come and have something good."

The familiar words and the smell and sight of his beloved brown sugar worked an instant change in Bruin's feelings. He dropped on all fours and began to whine like a baby as Eunice withdrew the parcel a little way.

"Come, then, and you shall have it," said Eunice.

She walked back a few yards till she reached the turn of the lane, when she poured out the sugar on the ground, taking care to scatter it well about. With a complacent grunt Bruin fell to his feast, and Eunice hurried back to Julia, who was standing in the same place, apparently half benumbed with terror.

"Come now; let us run home while he is eating the sugar," said Eunice. "He won't stir while there is any left. Come, Julia—you must run," she added imperatively as Julia looked at her without moving. "If you don't, I shall have to go and leave you."

The words acted as a stimulant to Julia's senses. Eunice put her arm round her waist, and the two ran without speaking till they came to the gate which opened into Mr. Hazleton's barnyard, and almost into the arms of Mr. Hazleton himself.

"We are safe now," said Eunice as soon as she could gather breath enough to speak.

"Safe from what?" asked Mr. Hazleton, naturally very much surprised. "What has frightened you?"

"It was Mr. Ferarra's bear," said Eunice, trying to speak collectedly. "He has got out again. Please, Mr. Hazleton, send some one to tell them before he does any mischief."

"Did he chase you?"

"No, he got me in a corner of the wall," said Julia, who had recovered her voice and her senses. "I was gathering some leaves, and I heard a noise and looked round, and there he was. He seemed to want to play at first, but when I screamed, he got angry and growled—oh, so savagely! I do believe he would have killed me, only for Eunice. Just think, papa, she had a paper of sugar, and she walked straight up and showed it to him, and then called him away down the lane to get it!"

"I don't understand," said Mr. Hazleton. "Did this—this young person entice the bear away?"

"Yes," answered Eunice. "I had just bought a parcel of sugar at Pat McGuire's, and I knew Bruin would do anything for sugar; so I called him down past the turn of the road, and emptied the whole five pounds out on the grass. I hope it won't disagree with him," added Eunice, laughing rather hysterically.

"Oh, papa, if you had seen her walk right up to the bear when he was growling and showing his teeth, and might have killed her just as well as not, and then help me when I could hardly walk, you—you wouldn't call her a 'young person,'" sobbed Julia.

"My dear, I intended no derogation by the epithet," said Mr. Hazleton in a tone of apology.—"I think Miss—I have not the honor of knowing the young lady's name—"

"My name is Eunice Riker."

"Ah, I apprehend—a daughter of the late Garret Riker? I knew your father well.—I think Miss Riker has behaved with the greatest gallantry and presence of mind, and I shall never forget the obligation she has laid us under. You had both better go into the house and take some rest and refreshment. I have sent John to give notice to Mr. Ferarra of the escape of the bear, and I think I shall take an opportunity of remonstrating with him on the subject of keeping such an animal."

"Mr. Ferarra had given him to the Park, and they were to come after him last week," said Eunice: "I heard Anita say so. But I must be going home, or mother will wonder what has become of me."

"I beg you will wait a little," said Mr. Hazleton. "I am about to drive down to the station, and will gladly set you down at your own door. I shall really feel hurt if you refuse," he added in his politest manner, seeing Eunice hesitate.—"Julia, take Miss Riker into the library. She will perhaps like to see the new pictures which were put up on Saturday."

Eunice consented, reflecting that she might secure the chance she desired of speaking to Julia. As they were looking at the beautiful landscapes, she entered on the subject that was uppermost in her mind:

"Julia, you were in Mrs. Ray's shop one day when I was there buying some Shetland wool for Anita?"

"Yes," replied Julia, turning scarlet.

"And was it you who told Ida Van Zandt and Fanny Gunderson that I changed away Mrs. Ackerman's yarn for wool for myself?"

"Yes, Eunice, I did."

Eunice was silent a minute. As soon as she could command her voice she said,—

"Do you think that was right, Julia? Would you have liked it if I had done so by you? I saw you buying some aprons that day. Suppose I had told people that you were making a bill on the sly, or something like that?"

"You wouldn't have been far wrong," said Julia in a curious voice. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That I was making 'a bill on the sly.'"

"I didn't know it, of course," answered Eunice. "I only spoke of that because I heard you say once that your father would not let you make bills."

"Well, I did make the bill on the sly, and I did tell the story about you," said Julia. "I was vexed because you had done more for the box than I had, and because Miss Ackerman took more notice of you than she did of me; and so I was ready to believe any harm of you. I thought when I took the work, I should do it the best and quickest of anybody, and get the most praise; and when I saw that everybody, even little Mary, had accomplished more than I had, I was angry enough to burn up the whole thing together."

"There was not much charity in that," remarked Eunice—"not if you did the work from such motives, I mean."

"There was not one bit of charity in it," assented Julia. "All I did was just done 'to be seen of men.'"

"But just think what an injury you have done me, Julia!" said Eunice—"An injury that perhaps can never be repaired, for it is not easy to stop such a report when once it gets going. We have lost work by it already."

"A great many people don't believe it, though," said Julia eagerly. "When mother heard it, she said she did 'not believe one word of any such thing. It was a malicious slander, and the person who started such reports ought to be severely punished!' I felt mean enough, I can tell you. I don't know what she will say when she knows that I did it."

"Perhaps she won't know; only, Julia, I do think you ought to contradict the story, because there is not a word of truth in it. I bought the wool for Anita, and left the yarn to be matched for Mrs. Ackerman. I don't see what you ever saw in me to make you think I would do so," added Eunice with a quivering lip.

"I never saw anything but what was good in you, Eunice. It was all my own envy and wicked temper. You don't know how it all looked to me when I stood there in that corner fenced in by the bear. I have heard that when people are drowning they see their whole lives spread out before them—which, of course, is impossible—but I can easily believe that they think of many things in a short time; for it seemed to me this morning as if every wrong thing I ever did was looking at me out of the eyes of that bear."

"Then, how will it seem when you come to stand before the judgment-seat?" asked Eunice in a low tone.

Julia shook her head and was silent for a moment. Then she resumed cheerfully,—

"But I shall put you right, Eunice, whatever happens to me. Here comes mamma. I wondered where she was."

Mrs. Hazleton quite forgot to be dignified. She forgot all about Eunice's "proper station" and all the rest of it, and she could not have clasped "the young person" in her arms and kissed her with more motherly warmth and tenderness if she had been a princess of the blood:

"You dear, dear girl! To think you should have had such presence of mind and courage!—Didn't I tell you, Julia, that Eunice—" And here Mrs. Hazleton stopped in some confusion.

"Oh I know all about it, Mrs. Hazleton," said Eunice, smiling. "I have been to see Mrs. Ferarra, and it will be all straightened out. As to what I did this morning, I don't really think there was so much danger. I have often fed Bruin, and knew his tastes pretty well, though I won't deny that I was a good deal frightened, because one can never tell what these wild creatures may do."

"I think there was great danger, such as I shudder to think of," said Mrs. Hazleton. "A young school-friend of my own was torn all to pieces by a bear which every one thought was perfectly tame. * But the carriage is here, and Mr. Hazleton has to meet the train."

* This is a fact. No tame bear is to be trusted.

"Eunice has given all her mother's sugar to the bear, mamma," said Julia.

"We will remember that," said her mother.—"Good-bye, my dear. I shall see you again before long."

As Mrs. Hazleton opened the door, Eunice whispered to Julia,—

"Tell your mother about the bill, Julia. You will feel better if you do."

"I dare not," said Julia; "it would be worse than the bear."

"It will all come out some time," said Eunice; "and remember, God knows it all."

"Well, I'll try. Good-bye, Eunice."