COMMENCEMENT
Commencement week had come at last with all its attendant flurry and excitement. There was perpetual movement in the halls—girls flew in every direction; teachers looked tired and careworn.
In Annabel Jackson's room Blue Bonnet sat running ribbons in Annabel's underwear—every Junior was waiting on her Senior hand and foot these days; it was a special privilege and one much coveted by adoring satellites.
"There," she said, tying the last bow with care. "That's ready. I'm just going to draw the water for Annabel's bath, Sue; she'll be up in a second. Suppose you pick up the room a bit. Looks like a cyclone had struck it. Annabel can't dress in such a muss."
Annabel herself came in at that moment, her cheeks pink with excitement, her face radiant with pleasure.
"My, but I'm late! Do you think I can dress in six minutes? It lacks just that much of twelve o'clock and some of the boys have arrived already. I saw Mr. Billings pacing the floor in the living-[378]room, Sue. Why don't you go down if you're ready? Blue Bonnet will help me."
It was the day of the Senior dance. A gala day at Miss North's. Sue and Blue Bonnet had both been invited to the dance—an almost unheard of privilege. Sue had been thus favored because her brother Billy was to be Annabel's guest, and Blue Bonnet, because Annabel had begged Miss North, almost on her hands and knees to grant her this one last request.
It was a long established custom for the young men to arrive at noon, pay their respects to teachers and the girls who had invited them and remain on for a concert, tea, or whatever had been planned for their entertainment. At five o'clock they left to dress for the dinner which preceded the dance.
Annabel lost no time with her toilet. In ten minutes she was dressed, with Blue Bonnet's help, and as sweet a vision as youth, good health and beauty could produce.
Blue Bonnet stood before her enraptured.
"Your gown is perfect, Annabel," she said, giving an extra pat here and there, or trying to, between Annabel's quick movements. "I doubt if you'll look a speck prettier to-night in your white lace. Pink certainly is your color. You had it on the first time I saw you. I remember writing Uncle Cliff about you."
They started for the living-room. Along the halls [379]girls waited in groups to catch a glimpse of their favorites. Heads craned from doors and exclamations of approval passed from lip to lip:
"Oh, aren't they lovely! The two prettiest girls in school! What a love of a gown Annabel's got! Isn't Blue Bonnet a dream?"
At the top of the stairs wedged in, obstructing the passage, sat Carita and Mary. They fell upon Annabel and Blue Bonnet regardless of their finery.
"A kiss! A kiss!" they cried. "You've got to pay toll!" A forfeit willingly given.
"I can hardly wait until five o'clock," Mary said. "I'm dying to get Annabel's flowers for her." But the hands of the hall clock pointed to half after five before the guests had left, and Mary and Carita were free to slip down-stairs from Fifth Avenue and across the hall to where the long boxes were piled high beside the mail bag. Through the pile the girls searched, and suddenly Mary, with a cry of satisfaction, snatched her Senior's box and ran back up-stairs to number fifteen, with mad delight.
"Here they are, Annabel! Your flowers! Quick, the scissors!" She waved the long box triumphantly. "I knew he wouldn't forget. Oh, the beauties—roses! Roses!"
In another second Carita burst into the room and presented Blue Bonnet with two boxes, and close on her heels came Peggy with Sue's flowers.
[380]The next half hour was a mad scramble. Afternoon frocks were changed for evening gowns. The younger girls were shooed from the room amid murmurs of protest, while a happy babble streamed on from the lips of the participants of the great event.
The Senior dance! Who that has felt its thrills can ever forget it! Who that has known its long anticipated joy can ever obliterate it from memory!
"Bring your clothes in here, Blue Bonnet, and I'll fasten you up," Annabel said, "and you can help me. We won't have many more of these occasions, will we?"
"No; but we're not going to talk about that now," Blue Bonnet said, flying into her room for her gown.
Ruth, dressing early, had gone down-stairs, and Blue Bonnet and Annabel chatted merrily.
"I like your Mr. Judson, awfully, Blue Bonnet," Annabel said, as she polished her nails vigorously. "He's terribly good looking! I don't know why—but I adore dark men. I suppose I should like blonds—"
"Why my Mr. Judson?" Blue Bonnet interrupted. "He's Carita's cousin—that's why I asked him to-night. I was awfully disappointed that Alec Trent couldn't come."
Annabel gave a little low laugh.
"He's the one you're sort of a sister to, isn't [381]he? Well—he's very nice, but I should choose Mr. Judson for a life study—I think. There's something sort of splendid and inspiring about him. He's so frank and unusual."
"He's just Western—that's all," Blue Bonnet said with a degree of satisfaction. "Would you wear these gold beads or the corals, Annabel?"
"The corals, by all means, with that white gown. And put one of those pink roses in your hair—there, low, like that. My, but you're sweet. I love you in that gown!"
"This gown is a little gift from Uncle Cliff. We went shopping the other day all by ourselves. I wanted to pick up a few little things for the girls and to get you a graduation present. By the way, I believe I'll give it to you now—I'll run get it. Maybe you might like to wear it to-night."
She brought back a small velvet jewel case which she put in Annabel's hands. Annabel gave a cry of delight when she opened it.
"Blue Bonnet! How perfectly darling of you! Oh, isn't it exquisite!"
In the case reposed a little brooch—a circlet of pearls.
"I'm so glad you like it, Annabel. I love the sentiment of it. It's a friendship circle—never ending—never beginning, see?"
She held the pin in her hand and traced the circle [382]with her finger. "I feel that way about our friendship—it never seemed to begin—it just was, from the start—and I hope it will never end!"
"Blue Bonnet! Stop! You're going to make me cry—and I can't now. I haven't time. You know I haven't a particle of sense when I get started."
She made a little dab at her eyes and took the pin from Blue Bonnet.
"I shall wear it always, always," she managed to say as she pinned it in the lace of her gown, "and I'll thank you for it properly at another time."
At ten o'clock that night, three very tired but wide-awake little Freshmen, who had watched the dance from the gymnasium balcony, climbed the flight of stairs leading to Fifth Avenue, bearing in their arms three bouquets. After the first few dances the girls had thrown the flowers to their outstretched hands and they had been cherished as valuable possessions.
"I'm going to sprinkle these roses and leave them in Annabel's bathtub," Mary said, stifling a tell-tale yawn.
"And I'll do the same with Blue Bonnet's," Carita said, following the suggestion.
She entered Blue Bonnet's room and after attending to the flowers, set the place to rights; turned down Blue Bonnet's bed neatly, and finding paper and pencil busied herself for a moment with [383]a note which she pinned to Blue Bonnet's pillow. It read:
"Dearest Blue Bonnet:—Thank you so much for letting me help you all day, and for taking care of the flowers. I have had a beautiful time. You were the prettiest girl in the room to-night. Wasn't it sweet of Alec to send those flowers all the way from Washington? I think he has forgiven you for what happened in Woodford. Good night. Sweet dreams. Carita."
The rest of the week passed in a dream to Blue Bonnet. Two things, however, stood out vividly in her memory: Annabel's program, which had been brilliantly sung to an enthusiastic audience, and Miss North's last talk to the girls in the living-room. Perhaps it was the glow of pride on Uncle Cliff's face as she took her place at the piano to play Annabel's accompaniments—the look of satisfaction on Aunt Lucinda's—that stamped the afternoon so indelibly on her mind; perhaps it was a little self satisfaction—for Blue Bonnet was altogether human. At any rate, she felt sure that she would always recall the day with happiness.
Miss North's talk had been helpful—her text inspiring. Blue Bonnet copied the text in her memory book with many notations—all the amplifications she could remember:
[384]"The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts. Guard them accordingly."
Then there was the eventful afternoon when the Seniors took the straw ride into the country and built a bonfire upon which to burn the books they hated most. Blue Bonnet had helped Annabel select a much thumbed Cicero (there had been some difficulty in choosing), longing with all her heart for the day when her own Geometry could be added to the funeral pyre.
The last day—in after years Blue Bonnet disliked to recall that last day, it was so fraught with sadness—she had packed for Carita; helped Mary Boyd; given Peggy a lift with her things, which were piled in an indiscriminate heap for one big leap into a waiting trunk, and had put her own clothes and belongings in readiness for the long journey to Texas on the morrow. She had spent a half hour with Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda, who were remaining in Boston to see her off. There had been a visit to Mrs. White—she could not be forgotten, whatever else was left undone. How often in lonely and discouraged moments Mrs. White had filled the place almost of a mother. Blue Bonnet felt an unbounded regard for her, as well as gratitude.
After all was done she wandered into Annabel's room for a last chat. Others had been of the same [385]mind evidently, for Sue was perched on Annabel's trunk; Wee occupied a comfortable chair; Patty and Angela squatted on the floor. It was a crowd whose drooping spirits even Wee Watts failed to arouse.
Blue Bonnet sank down beside Patty and heaved a sigh. The room was bare and gloomy. The Queen Louise, the china cat, the calendar under the window, alone spoke of a past fading into oblivion.
"Aren't you going to take 'Louise' and the cat, Annabel?" Blue Bonnet asked.
Annabel shook her head.
"Why not?"
"They're willed. We're going to pass them on to the next crowd—the girls who have this room."
Ruth and Annabel exchanged a look. Their minds reverted to the calendar that hung low beneath the window, on which was written—in so fine a hand as to be almost illegible:
"Look behind this calendar. 'A word to the wise is sufficient.'"
Blue Bonnet tried to say something, but the words stuck in her throat. She gave one despairing glance about the room, her eyes sweeping the almost deserted quarters, and rising she made straight for the door.
Wee and Patty, Sue and Angela followed silently. [386]At her own door Blue Bonnet paused and held out her hand.
"I reckon I'll say good-by, girls," she said. "Carita and I are going over to the hotel to spend the night with Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda. Hope to see you next year, Sue, and you too, Wee." To Angela and Patty there were promises and instructions about writing. When the girls had passed on to their rooms Blue Bonnet turned and went back to Annabel. She opened the door softly. Annabel was sitting by the window where the girls had left her. Her head was buried in her hands and when she lifted it Blue Bonnet saw that her eyes were full of tears. She got up and came toward Blue Bonnet with outstretched arms.
"Is it good-by, Blue Bonnet?" she said.
"Not good-by, Annabel," Blue Bonnet answered bravely. "Not good-by—it's just—auf wiedersehen."
THE END.
The
Blue Bonnet Series
By
Lela Horn Richards
and
Caroline E. Jacobs
Each, one vol., large 12mo, illustrated $1.50
- A TEXAS BLUE BONNET
- BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY
- BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON
- BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE
- BLUE BONNET—DÉBUTANTE
- BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS
THE COSY CORNER SERIES
By Caroline E. Jacobs
Each, one vol., small 12mo, illustrated $0.75
- BAB'S CHRISTMAS AT STANHOPE
- THE CHRISTMAS SURPRISE PARTY
- A CHRISTMAS PROMISE