The Little Colonel: Maid of Honor Read online

  CHAPTER I.

  AT WARWICK HALL

  It was mid-afternoon by the old sun-dial that marked the hours inWarwick Hall garden; a sunny afternoon in May. The usual busy routine ofschool work was going on inside the great Hall, but no whisper of itdisturbed the quiet of the sleepy old garden. At intervals the faintclang of the call-bell, signalling a change of classes, floated throughthe open windows, but no buzz of recitations reached the hedge-hiddenpath where Betty Lewis sat writing.

  The whole picturesque place seemed as still as the palace of theSleeping Beauty. Even the peacocks on the terraced river-front stoodmotionless, their resplendent tails spread out in the sun; and althoughthe air was filled with the odor of wild plum blossoms, the breeze thatbore it through the arbor where Betty sat, absorbed in her work, was sogentle that it scarcely stirred the vines around her.

  With her elbows resting on the rustic table in front of her, and onefinger unconsciously twisting the lock of curly brown hair that strayedover her ear, she sat pushing her pencil rapidly across the pages of hernote-book. At times she stopped to tap impatiently on the table, whenthe word she wanted failed to come. Then she would sit looking throughhalf-closed eyes at the sun-dial, or let her dreamy gaze follow the lazywindings of the river, which, far below, took its slow way along betweenthe willows.

  As editor-in-chief of _The Spinster_, there was good reason why sheshould be excused from recitations now and then, to spend an afternoonin this retreat. This year's souvenir volume bade fair to be thebrightest and most creditable one ever issued by the school. The Englishprofessor not only openly said so, but was plainly so proud of Betty'sability that the lower classes regarded her with awe, and adored herfrom a distance, as a real live genius.

  Whether she was a genius or not, one thing is certain, she spent hoursof patient, painstaking work to make her writing measure up to thestandard she had set for it. It was work that she loved better thanplay, however, and to-day she sighed regretfully when the hunter's horn,blowing on the upper terrace, summoned the school to its outdoor sports.

  Instantly, in answer to the winding call, the whole place began toawaken. There was a tread of many feet on the great staircase, the outerdoors burst open, and a stream of rollicking girls poured out into theMay sunshine.

  Betty knew that in a few minutes the garden would be swarming with themas if a flock of chattering magpies had taken possession of it. With apreoccupied frown drawing her eyebrows together, she began gathering upher papers, preparatory to making her escape. She glanced down the longflight of marble steps leading to the river. There on the lowestterrace, a fringe of willow-trees trailed their sweeping branches in thewater. Around the largest of these trees ran a circular bench. Seated onthe far side of this, the huge trunk would shield her from view of theHall, and she decided to go down there to finish.

  It would never do to stop now, when the verses were spinning themselvesout so easily. None of the girls, except her four most intimate friends,would dare think of following her down there, and if she could slip awayfrom that audacious quartette, she would be safe for the rest of theafternoon.

  Peering through a hole in the hedge, she stood waiting for them to pass.A section of the botany class came first, swinging their baskets, andbound for a wooded hillside where wild flowers grew in profusion. Agroup on their way to the golf links came next, then half a dozen tennisplayers, and the newly organized basket-ball team. A moment more, andthe four she was waiting for tramped out abreast, arm in arm: LloydSherman, Gay Melville, Allison and Kitty Walton. Gay carried a kodak,and, from the remarks which floated over the hedge, it was evident theywere on their way to the orchard, to take a picture which wouldillustrate the nonsense rhyme Kitty was chanting at the top of hervoice. They all repeated it after her in a singsong chorus, the fourpairs of feet keeping time in a soldierly tread as they marched past thegarden:

  "Diddledy diddledy dumpty! Three old maids in a plum-tree! Half a crown to get them down, Diddledy diddledy dumpty!"

  Only in this instance Betty knew they were to be young maids instead ofold ones, all in a row on the limb of a plum-tree in the orchard, theirlaughing faces thrust through the mass of snowy blossoms, as they waitedto be photographed.

  "Diddledy diddledy dumpty"--the ridiculous refrain grew fainter and diedaway as the girls passed on to the orchard, and Betty, smiling insympathy with their high spirits, ran down the stately marble steps tothe seat under the willow. It was so cool and shadowy down there that atfirst it was a temptation just to sit and listen to the lap of the wateragainst the shore, but the very length of the shadows warned her thatthe afternoon was passing, and after a few moments she fell to workagain with conscientious energy.

  So deeply did she become absorbed in her task, she did not look up whensome one came down the steps behind her. It was an adoring littlefreshman, who had caught the glimmer of her pink dress behind the tree.The special-delivery letter she carried was her excuse for following.She had been in a flutter of delight when Madame Chartley put it in herhand, asking her to find Elizabeth Lewis and give it to her. But nowthat she stood in the charmed presence, actually watching a poem in theprocess of construction, she paused, overwhelmed by the feeling that shewas rushing in "where angels feared to tread."

  Still, special-delivery letters are important things. Like time and tidethey wait for no man. Somebody might be dead or dying. So summoning allher courage, she cleared her throat. Then she gave a bashful littlecough. Betty looked up with an absent-minded stare. She had been so busypolishing a figure of speech to her satisfaction that she had forgottenwhere she was. For an instant the preoccupied little pucker between hereyebrows smote the timid freshman with dismay. She felt that she hadgained her idol's everlasting displeasure by intruding at such a time.But the next instant Betty's face cleared, and the brown eyes smiled inthe way that always made her friends wherever she went.

  "What is it, Dora?" she asked, kindly. Dora, who could only stammer anembarrassed reply, held out the letter. Then she stood with toes turnedin, and both hands fumbling nervously with her belt ribbon, while Bettybroke the seal.

  "I--I hope it isn't bad news," she managed to say at last. "I--I'd hateto bring _you_ bad news."

  Betty looked up with a smile which brought Dora's heart into her throat."Thank you, dear," she answered, cordially. Then, as her eye travelledfarther down the page, she gave a cry of pleasure.

  "Oh, it is perfectly lovely news, Dora. It's the most beautiful surprisefor Lloyd's birthday that ever was. She's not to know till to-morrow.It's too good a secret to keep to myself, so I'll share it with you in aminute if you'll swear not to tell till to-morrow."

  Scarcely believing that she heard aright, Dora dropped down on thegrass, regardless of the fact that her roommate and two other girls werewaiting on the upper terrace for her to join them. They were going toMammy Easter's cabin to have their fortunes told. Feeling that this wasthe best fortune that had befallen her since her arrival at WarwickHall, and sure that Mammy Easter could foretell no greater honor thanshe was already enjoying, she signalled wildly for them to go on withouther.

  At first they did not understand her frantic gestures for them to go on,and stood beckoning, till she turned her back on them. Then they movedaway reluctantly and in great disgust at her abandoning them. When aglance over her shoulder assured her that she was rid of them, shesettled down with a blissful sigh. What greater honor could she havethan to be chosen as the confidante of the most brilliant pupil everenrolled at Warwick Hall? At least it was reported that that was thefaculty's opinion of her. Dora's roommate, Cornie Dean, had chosen LloydSherman as the shrine of her young affections, and it was from Corniethat Dora had learned the personal history of her literary idol. Sheknew that Lloyd Sherman's mother was Betty's godmother, and that the twogirls lived together as sisters in a beautiful old home in Kentuckycalled "The Locusts." She had seen the photograph of the place hangingin Betty's room, and had heard scraps of information about the
varioushouse-parties that had frolicked under the hospitable rooftree of thefine old mansion. She knew that they had travelled abroad, and had hadall sorts of delightful and unusual experiences. Now something else fineand unusual was about to happen, and Betty had offered to share asecret with her. A little shiver of pleasure passed over her at thethought. This was so delightfully intimate and confidential, almost liketaking one of those "little journeys to the homes of famous people."

  As Betty turned the page, Dora felt with another thrill that that wasthe hand which had written the poem on "Friendship," which all the girlshad raved over. She herself knew it by heart, and she knew of at leastsix copies which, cut from the school magazine in which it had beenpublished, were stuck in the frames of as many mirrors.

  And that was the hand that had written the junior class song and theplay that the juniors gave on Valentine night. If reports were true thatwas also the hand which would write the valedictory next year, and whichwas now secretly at work upon a book which would some day place itsowner in the ranks with George Eliot and Thackeray.

  While she still gazed in a sort of fascination at the daintily manicuredpink-tipped fingers, Betty looked up with a radiant face. "Now I'll readit aloud," she said. "It will take several readings to make me realizethat such a lovely time is actually in store for us. It's fromgodmother," she explained.

  "DEAR ELIZABETH:--As I cannot be sure just when this will reach Warwick Hall, I am sending the enclosed letter to Lloyd in your care. A little package for her birthday has already gone on to her by express, but as this bit of news will give her more pleasure than any gift, I want her to receive it also on her birthday. I have just completed arrangements for a second house-party, a duplicate of the one she had six years ago, when she was eleven. I have bidden to it the same guests which came to the first one, you and Eugenia Forbes and Joyce Ware, but Eugenia will come as a bride this time. I have persuaded her to have her wedding here at Locust, among her only kindred, instead of in New York, where she and her father have no home ties. It will be a rose wedding, the last of June. The bridegroom's brother, Phil Tremont, is to be best man, and Lloyd maid of honor. Stuart's best friend, a young doctor from Boston, is to be one of the attendants, and Rob another. You and Joyce are to be bridesmaids, just as you would have been had the wedding been in New York.

  "Eugenia writes that she bought the material in Paris for your gowns. I enclose a sample, pale pink chiffon. Like a rose-leaf, is it not? Dressed in this dainty color, you will certainly carry out my idea of a rose wedding. Now do not let the thoughts of all this gaiety interfere with your studies. That is all I can tell you now, but you may spend your spare time until school is out planning things to make this the happiest of house-parties, and we will try to carry out all the plans that are practicable. Your devoted godmother,

  "ELIZABETH SHERMAN."

  Betty spread the sample of chiffon out over her knee, and stroked itadmiringly, before she slipped it back into the envelope with theletter. "The Princess is going to be so happy over this," she exclaimed."I'm sure she'll enjoy this second house-party at seventeen a hundredtimes more than she did the first one at eleven, and yet nobody couldhave had more fun than we did at that time."

  Dora's eager little face was eloquent with interest. Betty could nothave chosen a more attentive listener, and, inspired by her flatteringattention, she went on to recall some of the good times they had had atLocust, and in answer to Dora's timid questions explained why Lloyd wascalled The Little Colonel and the Princess Winsome and the Queen ofHearts and Hildegarde, and all the other titles her different friendshad showered upon her.

  "She must have been born with a gold spoon in her mouth, to be solucky," sighed Dora, presently. "Life has been all roses for her, and nothorns whatever."

  "No, indeed!" answered Betty, quickly. "She had a dreadfuldisappointment last year. She was taken sick during the Christmasvacation, and had to stay out of school all last term. It nearly brokeher heart to drop behind her class, and she still grieves over it everyday. The doctors forbade her taking extra work to catch up with it. Thenso much is expected of an only child like her, who has had so manyadvantages, and it is no easy matter living up to all the expectationsof a family like the old Colonel's."

  Betty's back was turned to the terraces, but Dora, who faced them,happened to look up just then. "There she comes now," she cried inalarm. "Hide the letter! Quick, or she'll see you!"

  Glancing over her shoulder, Betty saw, not only the four girls she hadrun away from, but four others, running down the terraces, taking theflight of marble steps two at a time. Gay's shoe-strings were trippingher at every leap, and Lloyd's hair had shaken down around her shouldersin a shining mass in the wild race from the orchard.

  Lloyd reached the willow first. Dropping down on the bench, almostbreathless, she began fanning herself with her hat.

  "Oh!" she gasped. "Tell me quick, Betty! What is the mattah? Cornie Deansaid a messenger boy had just come out to the Hall on a bicycle with aspecial-delivery lettah from home. I was so suah something awful hadhappened I could hardly run, it frightened me so."

  "And we thought maybe something had happened at 'The Beeches,'"interrupted Allison, "and that mamma had written to you to break thenews to us."

  "Why, nothing at all is the matter," answered Betty, calmly, darting aquick look at Dora to see if her face was betraying anything. "It wasjust a little note from godmother. She wanted me to attend to somethingfor her."

  "But why should she send it by special delivery if it isn't impawtant?"asked Lloyd, in an aggrieved tone.

  "It is important," laughed Betty. "Very."

  "For goodness' sake, what is it, then?" demanded Lloyd. "Don't tease meby keeping me in suspense, Betty. You know that anything about mothah orThe Locusts must concern me, too, and that I am just as much interestedin the special lettah as you are. I should think it would be just asmuch my business as yoah's."

  "This does concern you," admitted Betty, "and I'm dying to tell you, butgodmother doesn't want you to know until to-morrow."

  "To-morrow," echoed Lloyd, much puzzled. Then her face lighted up. "Oh,it's about my birthday present. Tell me what it is _now_, Betty," shewheedled. "I'd lots rathah know now than to wait. I could be enjoyingthe prospect of having whatevah it is all the rest of the day."

  Betty clapped her hands over her mouth, and rocked back and forth on thebench, her eyes shining mischievously.

  "_Do_ go away," she begged. "_Don't_ ask me! It's so lovely that I canhardly keep from telling you, and I'm afraid if you stay here I'll nothave strength of character to resist."

  "Tell _us_, Betty," suggested Kitty. "Lloyd will hide her ears while youconfide in us."

  "No, indeed!" laughed Betty. "The cat is half out of the bag when asecret is once shared, and I know you couldn't keep from telling Lloydmore than an hour or two."

  Just then Lloyd, leaning forward, pounced upon something at Betty'sfeet. It was the sample of pink chiffon that had dropped from theenvelope.

  "Sherlock Holmes the second!" she cried. "I've discovahed the secret. Ithas something to do with Eugenia's rose wedding, and mothah is going togive me my bridesmaid's dress as a birthday present. Own up now, Betty.Isn't that it?"

  Betty darted a startled look at Dora. "Well," she admitted, cautiously,"if it were a game of hunt the slipper, I'd say you were getting ratherwarm. That is _not_ the present your mother mentioned, although it _is_a sample of the bridesmaids' dresses. Eugenia got the material in Parisfor all of them. I'm at liberty to tell you that much."

  "Is that the wedding where you are to be maid of honor, Princess?" askedGrace Campman, one of the girls who had been posing in the plum-tree,and
who had followed her down to hear the news.

  "Yes," answered Lloyd. "Is it any wondah that I'm neahly wild withcuriosity?"

  "Make her tell," urged an excited chorus. "Just half a day beforehandwon't make any difference."

  "Let's all begin and beg her," suggested Grace.

  Lloyd, long used to gaining her own way with Betty by a system ofaffectionate coaxing hard to resist, turned impulsively to begin thesiege to wrest the secret from her, but another reference to the maid ofhonor by Grace made her pause. Then she said suddenly, with thewell-known princess-like lifting of the head that they all admired:

  "No, don't tell me, Betty. A maid of _honah_ should be too honahable toinsist on finding out things that were not intended for her to know. Ihadn't thought. If mothah took all the trouble of sending aspecial-delivery lettah to you to keep me from knowing till my birthday,I'm not going to pry around trying to find out."

  "Well, if you aren't the _queerest_," began Grace. "One would think tohear you talk that 'maid of honor' was some great title to be lived upto like the 'Maid of Orleans,' and that only some high and mightycreature like Joan of Arc could do it. But it's nothing more than to gofirst in the wedding march, and hold the bride's bouquet. I shouldn'tthink you'd let a little thing like that stand in the way of yourfinding out what you're so crazy to know."

  "_Wouldn't_ you?" asked Lloyd, with a slight shrug, and in a tone whichDora described afterward to Cornie as simply withering.

  "'Well, that's the difference, as you see, Betwixt my lord the king and _me_!'"

  To Grace's wonder, she dropped the sample of pink chiffon in Betty'slap, as if it had lost all interest for her, and stood up.

  "Come on, girls," she exclaimed. "Let's take the rest of those pictuahs.There are two moah films left in the roll."

  "I might as well go with you," said Betty, gathering up the loose leavesthat had fallen from her note-book. "It's no use trying to write with myhead so full of the grand secret. I couldn't possibly think of anythingelse."

  Arm in arm with Allison, she sauntered up the steps behind the others tothe old garden, which was the pride of every pupil in Warwick Hall. Thehollyhocks from Ann Hathaway's cottage had not yet begun to flaunt theirrosettes of color, but the rhododendrons from Killarney were in gorgeousbloom. As Lloyd focussed the camera in such a way as to make them abackground for a picture of the sun-dial, Betty heard Kitty ask: "You'lllet us know early in the morning what your present is, won't you,Princess?"

  "Yes, I'll run into yoah room with it early in the mawning, just as soonas I lay eyes on it myself," promised Lloyd, solemnly.

  "She can't!" whispered Betty to Allison, with a giggle. "In the firstplace, it's something that can't be carried, and in the second place itwill take a month for her to see all of it herself."

  Allison stopped short in the path, her face a picture of baffledcuriosity. "Betty Lewis," she said, solemnly, "I could find it in myheart to choke you. Don't tempt me too far, or I'll do it with a goodgrace."

  Betty laughed and pushed aside the vines at the entrance to the arbor."Come in here," she said, in a low tone. "I've intended all along totell you as soon as we got away from Grace Campman and those freshmen,for it concerns you and Kitty, too. You missed the first house-party wehad at The Locusts, but you'll have a big share in the second one. For aJune house-party with a wedding in it is the 'surprise' godmother haswritten about in Lloyd's birthday letter."