Helen Grant at Aldred House

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Contents

Chapter

I. Among Familiar Faces .

II. An Adventure

Chapter I

The dinner bell had given its welcome signal at Aldred House. Girls by twos and threes were jcoming down the wide stairway, some with their arms about each other, laughingly keeping step. There was a group in the front of the hall and there seemed some unusual excitement amid the eager greetings.

"It's Helen Grant!"

"Oh, no, she's too tall. And different—"

"It's her black gown. You know her father died. Yes, it is Helen."

Two or three pushed through the throng and caught her hand.

The girl in the black gown with the white ruche about her neck, her hair done up high with a silver arrow in it and some fluffy ends about her forehead, her skirt long, and taller than she was nine months ago, was certainly Helen. The clear eyes had their frank outlook, her mouth, which was undeniably sweet and full of pretty curves when she smiled, made her look really lovely standing there amid the joyous greetings. She was touched by the heartiness.

"We have an old scholar back with us," announced Mrs. Wiley ; "Miss Helen Grant. I see that most of you remember her. I am much gratified."

They fell into a procession and moved to the dining room. Miss Craven was hostess at her table, and she had asked that Helen might be guest of honor. There were nods and smiles as she glanced up and down.

There was one girl who had given a formal nod, as she passed to her seat among the graduating class. This was Daisy Bell. She need not trouble herself about Juliet Craven's friend. To spring this surprise upon her was mean and discourteous. Let Miss Craven triumph — ^why should she care? She would graduate in June, and Helen would be in the class below.

"It is so delightful to be warmly remembered," Helen kept thinking, while every pulse thrilled with pleasure. There was a number of new faces. There were girls who had grown and changed as much as she had.

Afterward there was quite an ovation. Madame Meran hoped she had not forgotten all her music, and her heart suddenly went back to Mrs. Wilmarth. Miss Lane, whom several of the girls had marked for an old maid, had married a clergyman with a growing son. Miss Fields, stout and rosy, had come in her place. Miss Wiley was very cordial and said "it was quite like getting an old friend back, the girls seemed so glad."

Juliet Craven brought her two proteges, rather plain little girls of thirteen whose step-mother had packed them off to boarding school a year after her marriage. Their names were Wilma and Elma Gartney, fair-headed, blue-eyed twins, but one a little darker than the other, so that confusion was avoided.

The girls were rather demoralized during the study period, though Helen and Mrs. Wiley were in the reception room settling a few points for the coming year.

"In most branches I am just about where I left off," the girl admitted frankly. "Considerably ahead in Latin and beginning Greek, which went very much against the grain at first," laughing cheerfully. "Asia from the Ural mountains to the gulf of Aden as it was thousands of years ago will not help me much in modem matters. I feel something as if I had recently been exhumed," in an amused voice.

"And you are — how old?"

"Just seventeen."

"Eighteen is young enough to enter college. Your system is stronger, your mind better disciplined, your aims more clearly defined."

"I have only one," exclaimed Helen, "and that is teaching. I like girls. And I like study."

"These three months will prepare you for the graduating class. And I am sure Mrs. Aldred will be glad to have you for the year. She is very much interested in you and so regretted the tragic episode that made a break in your life. And you have come quite near to another, Miss Craven told me."

Helen gave a little shiver. What if she were in England with her father, shut out of all this bright companionship !

"My father was a great Oriental scholar, I found, and lived almost entirely in the past. I hope not to do that. It may not be so grand, but I do like modern interests and the people of to-day. Though the old discoveries are wonderful."

"Very few women pursue that line. It is too unsympathetic, or they are not so deeply intellectual. It has a solitary aspect and girls are gregarious. So you think you have fallen behind in the regular school routine?"

"Oh, I know I have. But I am going to study in earnest. I am so glad you decided to accept me."

The face was so bright and eager, so full of purpose and resolution that Mrs. Wiley felt Mrs. Aldred would not be disappointed in her. They talked over a plan of study until she caught sight of Miss Craven lingering in the hall.

"I am so glad you could take me in," and she squeezed Juliet's hand in her enthusiasm.

"I asked for you at once. I took one of the larger rooms this year for I wanted to make a kind of home, and you will see that your treasures are scattered around. Oh, you can't think what joy your letter gave me. I was afraid we should not be together again for a long while. I resolved when the word came of your father's death to entreat you — "

"How good you are !" Helen's eyes softened with emotion.

"There would be nothing heroic in what I proposed to do, and I can never forget how you took me up when I first came here. I do not think girls and women are always friendly to each other, and I was a most unpromising object, was I not? I sometimes try to recall myself. It seems mean to say it, but I suppose if the money had been exploited first — "

"You would have had more attention, I am truly ashamed to say. But girls do satirize and turn any point they can catch into ridicule and are often unjust. Some persons insist that this strengthens the character — it may harden it, but I doubt if it is ever beneficial except to those ^illy, sentimental girls who are always exaggerating their own feelings and have to be laughed out of their follies. Only it seems to me a kindly welcome is better among girls until you have thoroughly tested them."

"And I can't make you any return — " in a disappointed tone.

"You are returning all the time," and Helen smiled brightly up at her friend. "You have made efforts of which every girl would not have been capable. Many would have been discouraged and given up study, taken the softer side of life. And you are making yourself a true woman. There! doesn't that seem patronizing and like the commendations one reads in 'Answers to Correspondents ?' "

Helen laughed with a gay iflavor, then continued: "And I shall ask for your congratulations. I shall have enough money to take me through college, with a wise and judicious economy — doesn't that sound sensible? I don't dare build air castles so far off, or plan what I shall do then. But, Juliet, you have grown stronger, more resolute, it shines in your eyes. And I remarked it in your manner at the table."

"I am glad if you see any change. After my visit to you and understanding how bravely you were taking up a great cross, I resolved not to live so much to myself or in myself. It is the good seed you have sown. You make life inspiring, because you are helpful everywhere."

"Not always. I make mistakes."

"But you have the courage that tries at once to surmount them. That is what I lack, the resolution for the second effort. I hate to be rebuffed."

"Do you always go out half-way to meet others?"

"No, I don't, but I am trying a little. I felt so sorry for those Gartney children, and I did really make an effort."

"They seem very fond of you."

"Yes. They opened their poor, trembling littie hearts to me one day. Their father had been very fond of them — ^he was some sort of a newspaper man. They played about in his study, and he took them out to walk. They were first everywhere until the new wife came. I don't suppose she is positively unkind, but they are shut out of the old love and it sort of bewilders them. So I thought what you were to me, arid I was a woman grown, though a child in the experience of affection."

"That is the currency of good will that goes round the world — thinking of others. Oh, that is the bell, and we must not transgress, though we could talk all night," and Helen smiled archly.

Was she really back at Aldred House? She could not sleep for her brain kept reviewing the pictures of the past. She remembered how she and Daisy Bell had a school-girl tiff one night about Juliet Craven, and Daisy had been hard and ungracious, and afterward, in the midst of her evening prayer two soft arms had stolen about her neck and the sweet warm lips had kissed her. And last winter there had come this misunderstanding in which Daisy refused to listen to any explanation. Could she, ought she, make an effort to win her back ? She loved Mrs.

Bell SO much. She had a stronger nature than Mrs. Wilmarth, and a clearer judgment in many respects.

"I don't know how I have come to love so many people," and Helen sighed softly as if she had been in the wrong.

It was rather difficult to find her exact standing, for her class had gone ahead of her in most studies. Madame Meran bewailed her loss in French and music, and said with uplifted hands, "Oh, you poor child!" But Helen accepted the set-back and the solitary recitations with her usual cheerfulness. She and Juliet would keep step.

She studied Daisy with some curiosity. She was really a young lady, the head of a little clique who clustered about her as satellites. She was still small and dainty, fair and easily flushing, the lips soft and full with smiles and tremors and fun mingling at times. Her shining hair flashed with every quick turn of her head, and her eyes could take to themselves bewildering lights. She studied different ways to make herself attractive, and she dearly loved to be admired.

Of course they had to meet and speak. They said Miss Grant and Miss Bell in a politely ceremonious fashion. But each was engrossed in lO HELEN GRANT AT ALDRED HOUSE

her own sphere. Then when Helen did feel at liberty there were letters to write to Mrs. Dayton and Mrs. Wilmarth, to dear Mr. Walters and to Nat, family epistles to Uncle Jason, though the answers always came in Nat's. But he would have felt hurt not to have a letter all to himself.

Then there was Mrs. Bell. The delightful visit recurred to her mind, and she knew she had looked forward to repeating it. The dainty book of poems Mr. Bell had given her was still a favorite companion. She did not relish being set in a false light to them both, yet she could not answer Mrs. Bell's question any better now than the evening she had written the story and then torn it up. Neither could she be so discourteous as not to write at all.

She made several attempts, but at last she achieved a letter quite to her satisfaction. It detailed brightly the events of the past months that had ended so satisfactorily to her, the coming to Aldred House, the changes in the girls, her surprise at finding Daisy really g^own up and her advancement in everything and her charm. No word that one could really construe into indifference, but it was there all the same.

AMONG FAMILIAR FACES II

"I am sorry there should be a break with Helen Grant," Mrs. Bell said, handing the letter to her husband. "I am quite sure there is some misunderstanding at the bottom of it. I had counted on her being a real friend to Daisy. I liked her so much. She has such a high, courageous nature, she is so upright in word and deed. And I am sorry for ourselves. She was such a delightful visitor."

"I don't know when I have met a girl I have liked so well."

He laid the letter down with a sigh.

Oh, how lovely the Spring was at Westchester ! Helen's every pulse tingled with exhilaration and joyous life. They went botanizing, they studied the trees, the clouds, the stars at night. How wonderful the world was I How could any one shut out even a part of it !

Mrs. Wilmarth wrote that Dr. Bradford had arranged the summer for her as he wanted her to try sea bathing. They would go to a quiet little Long Island village where there was an excellent beach just above the Great South Bay. She would take her maid, and with her two girls she would grow strong and happy. Nothing must interfere.

Juliet studied her letter a little uncertainly.

"Of course you will go," Helen exclaimed decisively. "Here is another chance for friendship that comes knocking at your very door/* and she glanced up smilingly. "Surely this time you can't make a Chinese wall out of your fortune."

"No, it isn't that. Only I am afraid you rate me too highly, Helen. And Mrs. Wilmarth may expect — "

"I find most people who care enough about you to ask you to their homes do expect something in return. Why shouldn't they when they have taken the trouble to give you a pleasant time? You would look for gratitude from the very poorest to whom you did a favor — ^you do not always get it I know," with an archness in both face and voice that made Juliet smile. "And why should not a person of some cultivation have as much appreciation?"

"I didn't mean that exactly, Helen, I think you can hardly understand the feeling of one who knows herself poor in spirit — "

"Why, that is one of the beatitudes," interrupted Helen. "Think of the promise !"

"But mine is in things to give away," protested Juliet.

AMONG FAMILIAR FACES I3

"Oh, don't you remember the bit of verse from Pilgrim's Progress:

"There was a man though some do count him mad; The more he gave away the more he had.'

And I believe many small graces grow with the using. You simply give the best you have if you see it pleases. Mrs. Wilmarth is passionately fond of music, and you can minister to her there. You are a very good reader, oh, and you know such quantities of exquisite verses, just the thing to say over in the twilight. So no more humility, if you please, but accept with great gladness of heart that you have found some one to whom neither wealth nor poverty makes any difference."

"You put everything in such an attractive light that one must needs be convinced," was the reply.

Even Helen could not quite understand the heart hunger, the longing for kindnesses freely given to others. It was true Juliet did not invite them; she often seemed cold and apathetic when she was merely timid. If she could have been put back to sixteen and had a true girl's growth, but womanhood had come before she was prepared for it.

Helen found there was a good deal to do to catch up with the girls who were to go in the graduating class, and she went at it with her usual earnestness. But she was the same Helen Grant with the inspiriting note in her voice, the bright good humor, the shining eyes, the readiness to help, and her different experiences had given her a wisdom that does not always come in youth.

Early in June Mrs. Aldred returned. The girls had made a parterre of the house. Wreaths and branches of bloom made the air fragrant and over the doorway was the word "Welcome" woven of golden-hearted daisies.

They went to the station in a procession, for the train did not get in until five o'clock. There were friends and neighbors, too, and the ovation touched the traveler to the heart, and was always one of her choicest remembrances.

The girls escorted her home in triumph. She had changed very little except to appear younger, the rest and pleasure had improved her, and the joyous greeting made her seem a girl with the rest.

It being Friday evening there were no lessons. They all went out on the porch in the moonlight and made a circle about her, eager to hear some

AMONG FAMILIAR FACES I5

of the events of her journey. Gertrude was improving rapidly and would spend another year studying art ; Grace was to return in September. There were so many examination questions she could verify, so many scenes and pictures and buildings of which it was delightful to hear that they would fain have kept her talking all night

She was to be only a visitor this month and insisted that she should take upon herself no authority whatever. She set herself about renewing her familiarity with the older pupils, and getting acquainted with the younger ones.

She had more than her olden interest in Helen Grant and was desirous of hearing the incidents of the past year. She had met two or three friends of Mrs. Van Dorn's who did hold that lady in high esteem. Helen was very glad to hear that.

"You seem to have a rather odd fate in one respect," she said with a thoughtful smile. "And to come so near going abroad again !"

"But I did not want to, in that manner. Even if I had tried my best my father would have been disappointed in me. I like entertaining study, something of to-day, and not the dried up facts of ages and ages ago. They may do for learned professors, but that is not my ambition,"

and Helen gave her bright smile. "I want to be in touch with girls."

"The most natural and the most healthy desire of seventeen," was the approving reply. "And I am glad circumstances will allow you to follow your aim so comfortably. Though I think you would have worked your way through. You are the kind of girl who finds friends, and who does not centre them exclusively about herself, nor demand that they shall not advance beyond her range. You are taking the broad view of life which is not so common in youth."

"But I am afraid, sometimes," hesitatingly, "that I like people too easily. I do not want to be blown about by every wind of fancy."

"Discrimination will come later on. I thought when you first came here, that you had an unusual share of reticence for such an eager, enthusiastic girl. And I am glad you have not lost interest in Miss Craven. She has improved wonderfully. I am much interested in her future. I was afraid her guardian would insist upon her trying the world before she was half fitted for it and some man would marry her for her fortune."

"She is too much afraid of that herself,** laughed Helen. "And she is really very fond ol

AMONG FAMILIAR FACES I7

study. We shall both try to graduate next year."

"I am glad of that," was the reply.

Mrs. Aldred was much entertained studying her girls again and watching the improvement some of them had made. And she saw that Daisy Bell was quite indifferent to Helen.

"Have you and Daisy outgrown your friendship ?" she asked with a soft smile that was sympathetic rather than curious. "Or is it simply a case of a young woman and a girl!"

Helen flushed scarlet. "I think we have," she answered slowly. "You see I was away and the class went ahead of me. And I am only a girl as yet. I do not want to be a woman."

There was something back of this, but Mrs. Aldred was not one to force a confidence.

"Such endings frequently occur," she said gravely. "We outgrow many things in this life and get fitted for others. That is true development. Some few people remain stationary, but they are generally unimportant characters, or else living in circumscribed environments. Even they may not be altogether to blame."

Helen thought of the narrowness and complacency of many of the people of Hope. And she was glad it was given to her to outgrow their manner of thinking. How Aunt Jane prided herself on the old routine of living and doing, and nagged at Nat for bringing in new methods. There were others who never broadened out, never looked beyond the boundaries of their own little town. Was that true content? And was content so admirable?

Chapter II

Oddly enough Helen was thinking of Daisy Bell as she went out into the hall. The light, graceful step came down the stairway with a sort of dazzle. There was always a flying curl, an end of ribbon or the gauzy rosette somewhere that seemed to make an ellipse.

She nodded carelessly as she passed Helen. Probably the old anger was gone, and she did not care. Yet the outgrowing gave her a pang. If Daisy had not been so positive, so insistent in her protestations — ^but in a year one could change greatly. Daisy was charming a little circle with the same fervor with which she had appealed to her. Was it insincerity?

The deepest pang would be giving up Mr. and Mrs. Bell and the ideal home life that had so penetrated the desires of her heart, and the wise, judicious friend she had hoped to keep. Mrs. Wilmarth adored her too much to be a serviceable mentor. Mrs. Dayton with all her tender generosity would prefer that she had chosen the narrower life. With Juliet Craven she was the leading spirit. One could rely upon Mrs. Aldred, and yet, you could only be one of many.

That was selfish, too. But a motherless girl might be forgiven for the longing.

Examinations began. As usual several girls had prepared for college. Others were being pushed up. Juliet did finely. Helen was hardly up to the mark in all studies but she knew that she could make it up in vacation.

The little Gartney children had come to be quite at home, and now were full of sorrow at parting with Miss Craven. They were to go to an aunt's in the country, as their father and new mother were to take a tour westward, and the aunt they scarcely knew.

"If I had a house of my own I should beg for them. They will have lonely lives for the next few years. Still they have each other. And they are coming back, their father wrote."

There was to be the usual commencement. Or, rather, it was to be a little unusual, quite the affair of the season. This compliment was due to the kindly neighbors who had so warmly welcomed her back, Mrs. Aldred thought, and several of the parents from a distance had expressed a desire to be present.

"My father and mother want to come," Daisy was explaining to a circle of her admirers. "I really did not imagine they were so proud of me. And my sister also. Then we are going to spend the night in New York, and the next day Columbia College Commencement takes place and my brother has one of the orations. Why, I think papa ought really to be proud of us !"

"As if he wasn't," declared a chorus of enthusiastic voices. "But we shall miss you so."

"The light of Aldred House will be gone."

Daisy turned and made a pretty, sweeping courtesy, the seductive gleam of pleasure in her eyes.

"Is it the penny dip?" with a bright rippling laugh.

"Well you needn't despise the little candle. Think of the honor Shakespeare paid it."

"But you are all going, too," returned Daisy. "Seven — a famous number."

"And five collegiates."

"And two butterflies, Sophie Durand and myself. Well — we shall flit from flower to flower. I mean to have a splendid time."

"And break hearts by the dozens."

"Well, hearts should not be so brittle," subjoined Daisy with a dainty toss of the head. "I do not believe they break so easily. I notice that they soon console themselves with another."

"Oh, Daisy, you must not turn cynical. It will not suit your style."

"I should be very true to a true friend," Daisy said with emphasis. "But I shouldn't wait for a friend to throw me over when I found she or even he," with a laugh, "was loving some one better. I'm not inclined to play second fiddle."

"You will not need to," said one of the girls. "I should like to have your gift of attraction."

"Really, I am proud to have a quality some one desires," and as she gave her head a little toss the wavy hair made a golden glitter.

"I was thinking of something, a plan I will propose," exclaimed May Bradshaw, rather tired of the personal talk. She was a tall, fine-looking girl with a resolute face. After two years of society she had come back for a post-graduate course and was going to college.

The eager faces were turned to her at once.

"Let us have one last row upon the river."

" 'Do you recall that night in June Upon the Danube river?'"

hummed another. "With all my heart, only let us take it late in the afternoon, as we have no cavaliers to rescue us in case of danger."

"I have been thinking it would be delightful to go up to Rip's Point and gather branches of rhododendrons. We can keep them until Thursday."

"That's just splendid. We will have them to adorn the house on the grand occasion. And why can't we go this afternoon? Let us plead for an early dinner, and the sun will be almost down so we shall not get burned to shame our white gowns. Four rowers and four guests. Perhaps the rowers had better offer their services, or shall we vote them in?"

"Fll offer mine," exclaimed May Bradshaw. "You may hear of me in the distant future as the champion oarswoman."

There were two other proffers, and then one was voted in even if it was not parliamentary.

"And I shall invite Daisy Bell as my guest because she never fidgets or rocks the boat. And she can sing that dear old Blue Danube."

"The guests must be the musical part of the crew," insisted some one.

Two or three longing eyes were cast at Juliet Craven, but it was well known that Daisy Bell did not admire her, so the lot fell upon some one else. Mrs. Wiley consented on condition that they should not stay out late, and ordered the dinner at once. The girls hunted up baskets in which to stow away their trophies, and the four rowers donned their yachting attire, looking pretty enough for a much more important occasion. Then they marched down to the landing where they found their boat in readiness.

The river was a pretty, irregular stream, now narrowing, now widening out. Occasionally a small sloop found its way up, but the stream was not certain enough in its current to attract business. Up above Westchester it broadened out into a sort of lake, fed by two small streams that in spring freshets rendered it rather turbulent. The country on the opposite shore was very picturesque. Here was a bluff of gray rock overhung with vines, and there were odd little nooks suggesting dryad haunts, then a belt of trees largely fir, spruce and hemlock that added a continual greenness to the landscape. Now everything was in the glory of early summer and countless wild flowers lent their beauty to the scene.

The sun dropped down behind the hills and sent long beautiful shadows in all kinds of opalescent tints. Back of the trees it was a flaming gorgeous red like a great fire that shone through the interstices. Up in the arch of the horizon there was a mingling of all colors, drowning out the blue. The birds were calling each other home and the wood thrush poured forth his melodious evening song.