Chapter 13 of The Friendly Five. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Millie Glassbury. The Friendly Five by Mary C. Hungerford. Chapter 13, The Committee by Ribbons and Making Acquaintance. Ms. Blake and the committee went up to the village milliners the next afternoon to select the ribbons which were to give the last touch of elegance to the doll's toilets. It was a grave responsibility for some of the doll's dressmakers had very positive ideas about the shade, quality, and width needed for certain costumes. And as Ms. Smith's stock was exceedingly limited, the purchasers would in most instances have to use their own judgment about choosing the next best things. Ms. Blake was very patient and good-natured and gave all the advice she could, but the girls deliberated so long over some of the least satisfactory things that after a while she excused herself as she had a sick friend to visit and promised to call for them in half an hour. The important decisions were made before it was time to expect her, and Delia proposed going over to Mr. Williams' store, a place where everything under the sun to eat, drink, or wear or to work with might be asked for with a reasonable hope of finding it. It was the only place in the village except the station restaurant, where candy could be bought, and it was very disappointing to the girls today to be told when they applied to the man who waited on that department that there had been some delay in receiving their usual weekly supply and there was nothing in stock except some deplorable specimens which would not tempt anyone. It was very provoking for a number of the girls had commissioned them to buy candy and would be very much disturbed at not receiving it. The same thought was in the mind of each, but neither liked to express it, but the thought moved their footsteps in the same direction, and leaving Mr. Williams' they slowly sauntered toward the station and presently found themselves at the door of the little waiting room, one end of which was crossed by a counter where hurried travelers could regale themselves with coffee and sandwiches at one end or fill their pockets with cakes and candy at the other. The girls looked at each other as they stopped at the open door. Mrs. Abbott had never actually said no one should go into the station unless accompanied by a teacher because she never supposed anyone would want to go there, but she was very particular and they knew well she would disapprove of their going in. Well, said Belle, wrinkling her brows and looking steadily at her companion, there isn't a soul in there now except the girls behind the counter, said Fanny. I don't suppose we really ought to go in, said Belle, putting her foot on the first of the four steps. No, said Fanny, stepping up to her side, but after all what harm can there be? And the girls will be so awfully put out about not getting the candy, said Belle, going one step higher. Come along in, said Fanny with sudden decision, grasping Belle's hand and drawing her in the door. It's all right. Nobody need ever know we came here if we don't choose to tell. Their easily quieted scruples were all forgotten when they saw the enticing supply of confectionery seductively displayed under glass covers. There was no such trouble in selecting here as there had been in buying ribbons, for there were chocolate creams, maple caramels, and candied cherries among the extensive variety. And those were the things that all the girls longed for more than any other sweets. It was delightful to feel that they were preparing a pleasant surprise for their friends who never dreamed of having anything more luscious than the lemon sticks, peppermint balls, and sat upon coconut cakes of a pallid white or dangerous red, which Mr. Williams, true to the traditions of his far away childhood, considered the proper stock of confectionery. The saleswoman was a little indifferent and slow, and so engrossed with a conversation of deep interest she was maintaining with the other clerk, that it was hard to get her attention. And then she lingered so over tying up the packages that the girls grew very impatient for a sharp whistle told them that a train was coming. The young woman tried to hurry then, but she had tied up the creams in too thin paper, and they burst their bonds and flew over the counter and floor. She seemed ashamed of her awkwardness then, and weighed out another half pound and put them into a paper bag of firmer constitution, delivering them over to the girls just as the train stopped, and quite a little crowd of passengers rushed up to the lunch counter. In the hurry of serving coffee and glasses of milk, which were wanted instantly, the woman could not stop to make change for the girls. Bell had handed her a $2 bill from which she was to deduct 85 cents for the candy. Clearly it would not do to give up $1.15, particularly as the money was not their own. So there was nothing else to do but to keep their places in wait till the greedy travelers could spare the clerk long enough to get their change. They deplored their folly then in having given Miss Smith all their silver and small change, and left themselves with only the bill. But it was too late to mourn for that now, and they stood impatiently at the end of the counter, wondering how even the fear of being left behind by the train could give men the courage to pour boiling hot coffee down their throats. At last, a lull came. The clamorous travelers were supplied, and the girls' change was handed them, and they hurried off toward the milliners, greatly fearing that Miss Blake would have come back and would demand an explanation. They passed a showily dressed young man with a traveling bag, who did not look quite like a gentleman, but were so occupied with their own uneasiness that they did not notice that he quickened his tardy steps soon after they passed him, till with a very low bow he stopped them just before the road turned to go up the hill and asked if they would kindly direct him to the village. Why, you can't miss it, said Fanny, rather startled at being addressed by a stranger. There's just this one road and no other. If the ladies are going to the town and do not object, I will walk with them, so I can be sure of going right, said the man. The girls were uncomfortable, but did not know what they ought to do, so they walked on without speaking. Very pretty little town coventry, said the man with a smile and bow that he evidently meant to be very engaging. Is there a nice hotel here? There isn't any at all now. If anyone spends a night they have to stop at the big tavern by the station, said Fanny, with a wild hope that he would retrace his steps and seek the big tavern's shelter. But he still accommodated his steps to theirs and presently asked if they were residents of Coventry. Our parents don't live here, but we are boarding scholars and Miss Abbott's school, said Belf, haughtily, thinking that the mention of Miss Abbott's name might prove discouraging. You walk very fast, young ladies, said their companion affably. Miss Abbott is a very particular friend of mine, and I'm going over to see her about taking my sister into the school. There's no room for another scholar, said Fanny. The school is as full as can be. Oh, Miss Abbott will do anything to oblige me, he said confidently. I can talk her over. How young does she take pupils? My little sister would not be happy unless there were some other very small girls there besides herself. There are none very small, said Fanny. Except Alfie, corrected Bell. Why, Bell, you can hardly call Alfie a scholar and you know she was only taken out of regard for Mr. Bellamy. No one else so young would be admitted. It would be very sad for me if my poor little orphaned sister were refused, said the man who had been listening eagerly. But please, young ladies, say nothing about it to Mrs. Abbott. I prefer to open the matter myself when I call on her this evening. He touched his hat very politely then and turned back, murmuring something about securing a room at the tavern. Wasn't he horrid? exclaimed Fanny almost before he was beyond hearing her words. Horrid, agreed Bell, giving a great sigh of relief as she looked into the milliner's window and saw that the shop was empty. But they had hardly seated themselves on two tall stools in front of the counter before Ms. Blake came in full of apologies for staying twice as long as she intended. End of CHAPTER XIII. CHAPTER XIV OF THE FRIENDLY FIVE. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Maria Fatima da Silva. The Friendly Five by Mary C. Hungerford. The Adventure Discussed. The ribbons were criticized, approved or condemned according to the various tastes of the girls. Those who were familiar with the difficulties attending country shopping were disposed to be satisfied and thought the committee had done as well as they could have done themselves, which is as high praise as can be expected from anybody. But the candy purchases gave unmixed delight to those who had sent for it. And ecstatic little screams of glee hailed the opening of the packages. The second class, that is, the little girls, had gone up to Ms. Blake's room for the regular twilight 20 minutes of poetry that they had three times a week. And the first room girls all adjourned to the spare room to embellish the dolls with the newly acquired ribbons. It was then that the candy was produced and generously distributed by its owners. Now tell us all about the excursion, said Katie, with her mouth full of caramels and her hands busy with a blue ribbon. Of course, Ms. Smith was perishing to know what you wanted of so many shades of ribbon. Wasn't she? Yes, said Belle, but she's a dear old soul. And when we told her about the dolls, she offered to make a dozen straw hats for them and she's going to send them up tomorrow. Hurrah for Ms. Smith, exclaimed Lily, and what a splendid idea. We never thought of head covering. Let's go to work and make a little cloth tennis caps and Greek caps for a lot of the bare-headed young persons. They're easy to make and I know how to cut them out. That suggestion was well received and the work was immediately begun, but Lily was not too much absorbed in cutting out the caps to ask for more particulars from Belle and Fanny. Yes, whom did you see, said Katie, remembering her own disappointment at not being elected one of the shoppers. We saw Ms. Smith, said Fanny, teasingly. Well, I should say you did by the pile of ribbons you bought. It was real good in her to give so much for the money, but who else did you see? A young and blooming stranger, said Fanny. Gracious, was she a friend of Ms. Smith? Not she, but he. For pity's sake, a man, a young man. Why, what do you expect Mrs. Albert to say to you hapless girls, if you have been meeting a young man? We couldn't help meeting him, said Fanny. But we didn't meet him at all, Fanny, said Belle. He overtook us and spoke before he got up to us. That was after we passed him, you know. You seem slightly incoherent, said Edna. He passed you and you passed him. And where was Ms. Blake all this time? She is not much of a dragon if she lets strange young men speak to the girls in the street. My, wouldn't Madame have made short work of that kind of a teacher? Miss Blake is all right, said Belle, stolidly unwilling to explain the situation. Lidly laid down her scissors and looked the committee over sharply. Girls, she said, you are keeping back something interesting. Now, make a clean breast of it and tell us the whole story right away. Confess now, unless you want to be handed over for torture. Then Fanny, acting as a spokesman, told their adventure fully. Their hearers were much amazed that the two steadiest girls in the school should have been so daring as to go deliberately to the station at the risk of seriously displeasing Mrs. Abbott. It reminds me, said Lidly pensively, of a solemn old horse my grandfather had who was steady as a turtle all through his cold hood and slow middle age. But when he was at the overripe age of 22, he ran away for the first time and spilled my grandmother out of the buggy in her best bonnet. Four steady obedient years U2 studious scholars have led sober lives beneath this scholastic roof and now you disgrace yourselves and break your record. Ah, it is a weepful fact that you can't most always tell what serious nugs and solemn girls can do in the way of giddiness. Tell us something about the fellow, said Edna. What did he look like? Dark melting eyes, rich voice, smooth olive skin, et cetera. Olive skin, to be sure, and eyes that looked as if they had been boiled till they were half melted. And said Fanny, he was horrid. I didn't think he was so bad looking, said Belle. His features were not out of the way. The worst thing about him was his looking so vulgar and flashy. It seems queer that such a person should be a particular friend of Mrs. Abbott's. Oh, people have queer friends sometimes, said Edna. But I don't believe she'll take his sister. I hope we shall know when he comes to see Mrs. Abbott so we can try to get a look at him, said Katie. Should you know him again, girls? I should say so. We are not likely to forget that big plate suit or that high-hooked nose. Oh, he had a high-hooked nose. Had he, said Edna, perhaps your friend is some relation to that inquisitive peddler who wanted to find out if anyone in the school wore mourning. He had that kind of a nose. Marion had not joined in the conversation. But while she looped some white baby ribbon into a small rosette, she listened attentively to the girl's account of their adventure. Now she asked timidly if it would not be better to tell Mrs. Abbott about the man. And why should we walk ourselves right straight into hot water, said Fanny, petulantly? I know we did wrong in going to the station, but it was no crime. We never have been forbidden. I am the most worried for fear the young man will mention seeing us there when he comes to see her, said Belle. Don't you worry, said Lily, that dark-eyed youth will never come.  Imagine a fellow like that being a friend of Mrs. Abbott's. Why in the world should he say so, then? Perhaps he saw from your lamb-like countenance that you were innocent enough to answer his questions. He may have some reason for finding out something about this establishment. As Edna said about her peddler, perhaps he's an enterprising burglar on the lookout for points. Well, anyway, we didn't tell him anything. But you said you told him, Alfie was here, said Marion, looking troubled. And I do really think it would be best to tell Mrs. Abbott. Ridiculous, sneered Edna. I don't think so. It wasn't good taste at all in the girls to mention any name to a strange creature like that, said Lily. But I don't suppose he will ever think of it again. What I think was the worst thing was going off to the station. And if it were I, I should tell Mrs. Abbott what I did. I always feel better after I have confessed, though I own its pretty hard work. But Belle and Fanny either lacked moral courage or were not in the mood to take her very excellent advice. End of chapter 14. Chapter 15 of The Friendly Five. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Elizabeth Holland. The Friendly Five by Mary C. Hungerford. Chapter 15, The White Queen. One of the old fashioned snowstorms came two weeks before the Christmas holiday scattered the girls far and wide to spend the happy fortnight at home. It was not a quiet, decorous downfall of snow that covered the earth smoothly with a glaze of white, but a roistering, turbulent storm that piled drifts to marvelous heights in sheltered corners and reared miniature alpine ranges against the almost submerged fences. The road was quite impassable early in the day and not one of the day scholars could get to school. This had happened once during the previous winter and on that occasion the usual lessons were given up and the time filled with some unusual exercises. This time Mrs. Abbott put it to vote after opening school and every hand was raised in favor of having a literary morning in place of the ordinary recitations. The teachers were pleased to have it so for it was hard on the absent scholars to miss all the studies of the day. Miss Blake, whose talent as an elocutionist was extraordinary, recited a stirring historical poem which was rapturously received. Then Mrs. Abbott asked each girl to write the name of her favorite heroine of history on a slip of paper to drop into a box that was carried around by one of the girls. An examination of the slip showed that although a number of names had been put down two names were repeated on several papers. These were Joan of Arc and Marie Antoinette. Then the girls were asked to vote again on both those names. The result was that the unfortunate queen was selected and Miss Blake, who always heard the history classes, read them a short pathetic sketch of her life with its early frivolity and pitiful brave ending. Then she asked the girls to each write a short statement of the account she had read. Not less than three lines, not more than 15, was the limit and pencils were very busy for a short time. Then the papers which were not signed were gathered up and read aloud. The girls enjoyed the reading of the papers very much for not even the teachers knew who wrote them. So there was no shame felt if comment or criticism were made and a girl had only to control her face and look unconscious and no one would suspect her. Of course, some papers were very meager but others were quite interesting outline sketches. It almost seemed like a game, but it fixed the facts very firmly in every girl's mind and Mrs. Abbott half made up her mind to introduce the plan as a regular weekly exercise. The sun was shining brilliantly on the glistening snow and when they had finished dinner, Mrs. Abbott told them to prepare for a snow frolic in the enclosure saying she had ordered their snow shovels and rubber boots brought back to the Piazza and readiness for them. Edward had shoveled paths to the back and front gate and seeing the wall of ice and snow through which he had cut, Bell exclaimed, who's for building a snow fort? Most of them held the idea jubulantly but Delia and Katie had just been reading Hawthorne's lovely snow image and suggested molding a beautiful white child. Perfectly sweet said Lily, how nice in you to think of it. Where shall we build her? I should think she ought to be standing in the grove. She will look shadowy and fairy-like under the trees with evergreens behind her. This is nice kind of snow. It packs well said Linda Evertson. But how can we make a girl? Easy enough said Katie. We made General Washington once and put a paper cocked hat on him. He was fine, only we got his feet longer than his legs. Let's get the book and see how a snow girl ought to looks just as Lily. A look at the graceful humanized snow image showed the manifest impossibility of imitating it successfully. But even if we cannot make a willowy fairy like that, said Lily, we can make something. If a woman made a charming face and butter, I'll enthe she called it didn't she? I think we ought to be able to work up something nice and snow. Suppose we drag one of the rustic chairs under a tree and make a sitting down figure of a girl, said Marion, who was rosy and happy in the outdoor sport which reminded her of home. Capital, the chair will help to hold her up. Let's have her a queen and fix up an ice crown, said Katie. Edna, who systematically sneered at whatever proposal Marion made, laughed at the idea. But no one seemed to notice her disapproval and soon she too grew interested and helped. They had to get Edward's help to dig the chair out of the snow that quite buried it and set it against a large trunked maple. Then they worked with a wheel till they had made a very fair semblance of a large woman sitting down with her skirt spread out and her arms resting on the arms of the chair. Whoever best understands the mysterious science of noses shall put that important feature on Queen Blanche's pale face, said Lily, whose own face from exertion was red as a peony. I think as Edna draws best of any of us and molds such pretty things in clay, she had better give the white queen a nose, said Marion timidly. And for once, so soothing as flattery, Edna was pleased and smiled quite graciously upon her and succeeded after several efforts in turning out a very good nose. She changed the expression of the whole face too by some depth, smoothing and judicious molding and no one present had ever seen a snow form that was half so pretty as this when it was finished. Make her majesty a crown of stiff writing paper and scatter water on it, said Lily. Oh yes, and let's borrow an old sheet if we can and pin it around her neck like a royal robe and then make it sopping wet and sprinkle snow on it, said Marion. It will freeze stiff in the night and look as if it was made of snow. Both suggestions were eagerly carried out and then Mrs. Abbott was called to the window to see the really majestic statue of snow. She expressed great admiration and Elfie who was bundled up to the tip of her little red nose pranced around in wild delight, believing herself to have been an important assistant in making the image. The next morning it recessed, the girls all ran out to visit the white queen whose beauty had so much improved by time and frost that she really was marvelous. The sun was shining very clearly but the weather was bitingly cold and there was every prospect that the statue would retain its fair form for some time. The robe and crown now frozen stiff looked as if they too were made entirely of snow. I wish somebody besides us could see it, said Katie and hardly was her wish expressed before it was gratified. A small sound of admiration startled them and quickly turning to look in the direction of the gentle ejaculation they saw a man's head above the high-bored fence. The drifts now hardened by the frost had allowed him to walk on them comfortably and instead of being far below the top of the fence he was now head and shoulders above it. He made no effort to raise himself upon it as the girls thought for a moment he might do. He had perhaps seen it without its thrill of snow and was aware of its decoration of spikes. A most beautiful image young ladies, he said in a very soft voice with a beaming smile and pushing forward at his head that seemed intended to be very winning. None of the startled girls replied so he made another admiring remark. Belle, who was half behind Lily was examining the visitor very closely. Oh, Lily, that's the man who spoke to Fanny and me at the station, she said excitedly and Fanny exchanged a corroborative glance with her. He could not have heard her but he guessed the meaning of her whisper for he touched his hat with a flourishing remarking. Ah, you remember me lady, I hope you reached home safely. Is this all the scholars Mrs. Abbott keeps? His small prominent eyes were roving about looking most particularly at the smallest girls and Marion, who was near enough to hear Belle's whisper grasped Elfie's hand and drew her toward the house. Is that the pretty little miss the young scholar you told me about? He asked addressing Belle. Don't speak to him, Belle said Lily quickly. Come girls, let us go in. He called after them as they moved away but Marion had reached the door and seeing Miss Blake called her out. Her appearance on the piazza seemed discouraging to the visitor who instantly dropped out of sight.  But I suppose the person brought up in the woods is easily scared. But he was such a common looking wretch, he was enough to frighten anyone, said Katie. I should have supposed Marion's stubs would be the last one in the world to mine common folks. I didn't know there was any other kind where she lived. Maybe my neighbors were common but they were not that kind of common, said Marion with some spirit. That man looks as if he would steal. I dare say he would and do you know he looks enough like the peddler to be his brother? Only of course he's better dressed, said Edna as they went into the school room. End of chapter 15. Chapter 16 of The Friendly Five. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Maria Fatma da Silva. The Friendly Five by Mary C. Hungerford. And Mrs. Abbott's room. Marion went directly to Mrs. Abbott's room when school was over and told her of the man's appearance. She longed to tell her too that the same man had seen and talked with two of the girls but according to the school girls code of honor, it would not do to speak of their adventure without the consent of Belle and Fanny. Mrs. Abbott was seriously uneasy. Do you really think the man looked particularly at little Alfie, she asked? Or did your knowledge that possession of her has been sought before make you fanciful? I am sure of it, said Marion positively. And what, don't keep anything from me child. This is a terribly serious matter. If that man is someone employed by Ethel's father, then the child is in grave danger and my responsibility will become immense. And Mrs. Abbott rose and walked up and down the room with an appearance of great perplexity and agitation. Marion was greatly troubled. Dear, dear Mrs. Abbott, she whispered, if I tell you something, will you forgive me if I ask you never to tell the girls and don't, oh, don't ask me to mention any names. I do not like to give such a promise, said Mrs. Abbott gravely. If you know anything I ought to know, then it is your duty to tell me and leave me to decide what course to take. Marion left her side and went slowly back to her seat. It seemed her like a very mean thing to tell of other girls' transgressions. And yet, love for Alfie made her feel it necessary. Mrs. Abbott should know all about the strange man and even about the peddler's visit. That, too, was, undoubtedly, an attempt to discover if Alfie was living there. What would Edna say and do if she told anything about her? At that thought, forgetting she was not alone, she exclaimed aloud, oh, I cannot, cannot tell. At her words, Mrs. Abbott stopped in her walk and seeing the real suffering in her face set tenderly. Poor Marion, you do not want to trust me, but I will trust you. Tell me what you think I ought to know. As far as it concerns this matter, and I promise you that no one shall ever know how I acquired the information. I would not ask you to do violence to your sense of honor, for I respect your feeling. But for Alfie's sake, I must hear. And for Alfie's sake, I will tell you, said Marion, but don't blame me if I do not give any girl's name. This man, or one very much like him, got in the front gate with a peddler's pack one day and asked some of the girl's questions. What kind of questions? He asked if there was any little girl in mourning in the house. That might not have meant anything, said Mrs. Abbott, if it stood alone. What else is there to tell? The same man that looked over the back fence today met some of the girls not long ago and talked with them. Where? Oh, please don't ask me where, but he had a satchel and seemed to have come from the cars. He said he was a friend of yours and was coming to ask you to take his little sister. I don't suppose he did call? Oh, never. This is the part that troubles me, and it did even before he looked over the fence at us today. He managed in some way to find out from the girls that Alfie is here. How unfortunate, exclaimed Mrs. Abbott.  How could those girls tell him? Don't be so frightened, Mrs. Abbott. I am sure no one can steal Alfie while we are watching her so closely. You, Candice, or I have her inside every moment. And I think, yes, I am quite certain that I would risk my life for her any moment. I am sure you would, dear, and I am so thankful that I trusted you with this matter, which ought to be a secret, because Mr. Bellamy is especially anxious that his darling's life should never, either now or in the future, be darkened by the knowledge of what he fears for her. She is a sensitive, imaginative child, and if she were haunted by a fear of being taken, stolen is not too hard a word to call it. She would become nervously anxious with a probable result of confirmed ill health. Poor little Alfie, dear, dear child, says Mrs. Abbott. She is well worth watching and caring for, and yet the responsibility has become so complicated now by this new aspect of the situation that I bitterly regret having assumed it. I wish I had advised the senator to take Ethel and Candice abroad with him. It cannot be helped now, said Marian, respectfully. An hour Heavenly Father can watch her here as well as there. Thank you for reminding me of that, dear. Perhaps I let my sense of personal responsibility overwhelm me too much and forget whose help I can ask. Maybe our fears have made us over suspicious, suggested Marian, by way of comfort. Coincidences are very funny sometimes, and this man may really have no interest in Alfie. How could he have even suspected she might be here of all other schools? Mr. Bellamy must have been watched when he traveled and came here, said Mrs. Abbott. Yes, indeed. I have no doubt of this man's mischievous purpose. And my dear, watch the child closely as you have watched her before. Be even more watchful still. It is such a comfort to know that I can trust you to do it so fully. You pay me over and over again for bringing you here, Marian. Marian clasped her hands before her face in the perfect ecstasy of pleasure at these lovely words. And as Mrs. Abbott bent and kissed her fondly, she threw her arms around her neck, speechless, but radiantly happy. End of chapter 16. Chapter 17 of The Friendly Five. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Nancy Isaacs, www.nancyisix.net. The Friendly Five by Mary C. Hungerford. Chapter 17. Lily's Preachment. Tomorrow the machinery stops for two weeks, said Lily as she critically examined her Sunday gown before laying it in her trunk. Aren't you glad of it? I am, said Anna, rather spitefully throwing her lady's reader into the back of a closet. Not so very. Cause why?  Ah, ha, I have him, she continued. Have what? The small but deadly American bison, the reveler in wool, the destroyer of homes, the blighter of clothes, the living, eating, riotous buffalo bug. Here in the folds of my crimson gown I traced his fell path. Now Eureka, I have found him, and in the interest of my fellow mortals I will impale him on a pin and broil him on a burning match. Poor little bug, said Alfie, watching him shrivel. He don't mind it much, said Lily, or if he did he doesn't now. I'm not fond of killing things, Pet, but buffalo bugs must die. Is it not so fellow citizens? The fellow citizens to whom she appealed were represented by Edna, Katie, Marion, Fanny, and Belle. They all laughed, except Belle. She looked very solemn. Oh, my dear Belle, said Lily, was Mr. Buffalo bug a friend of yours?  This tragedy has wounded you. Oh, how little did I think that the pale martyr, no, I beg his pardon, the brown and yellow fuzzy martyr at the stake was dear to you. Why was I born to make you suffer this?  What ails Belle is that she don't like to go home tomorrow without telling Mrs. Abbott that we went to the station alone. And why doesn't she tell? Asked to Lily, growing grave instantly. Because I don't want her to, said Fanny. The thing is past and gone, and there's no use in reviving it. That's where you're right, said Edna. What a fool you'd be to go and tell on yourselves now. Mrs. Abbott never will find out if you don't tell. And what Belle wants to get herself and you into a mess for I, for one, don't see. There was some danger, I thought myself, that the delightful young man would speak of it to her. But he's evidently a fraud. No man who wanted to put his sister at school would climb up and grin at the girls over the back fence. Hardly, said Fanny. And I'm glad you think as I do. Belle's too tiresome for anything. Fanny, you said yourself that you couldn't bear to keep a thing back just for fear of marks or punishment, said Belle. Well, I didn't say I'd never smile again, did I? I'm awfully sorry we went to the station. It was taking a mean advantage of Miss Blake when she asked us to wait for her at the milliners. It was tricky, and I don't defend it. But I do say that, as we did let the time for talking go by. There's no use raking the matter up now. Why don't you tell Belle if Fanny won't? asked Katie, who was writing some last pages in her diary, and so had not been an attentive listener. What a sneaky idea! said Belle, rousing herself from the gloom which had settled upon her. I can't tell without involving Fanny, and I won't be such a sneak as to do that.  The first year I was here, I stole a pie. I did. I stole a pie, I did. It doesn't seem like a crime to me now. It seems rather funny, but I used to lie awake nights thinking of it then. It happened upon this wise, my little dears. One of the girls was going to give a rampage, that is, a nightgown party after bedtime. Mrs. Appet has put a stop to that species of entertainment, and I don't know as I am sorry, for we used to take terrific colds flying about in our fairy-like attire. We always indulged in some form of refreshment, generally crackers and peanuts. The latter article of Diet I may remark in passing was apt to produce parlor the next morning. The night in question. Don't I sound like a magazine article? We found ourselves minus even the sober cracker in the festive peanut. And one of the girls dared me to still down the back stairs and hook. That is what she called it. I keep nothing back. Hook a pie. She didn't say hook, hook a pie, but I have noticed that authors always express things that way, so I repeated the word. Well, to resume. In my callow youth I held that to dare, meant to do. So I did. I hide me to the dark and gruesome kitchen, crept stealthily to the pantry, and crawled through the window that communicated with a dining room pantry. The recollection paralyzes me. Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, as the pie of the dark stairs I carried. Let me hasten to the end before emotion overcomes me. At the top of the stairs were a group of white clad ghosts, semi-distinct in the faint light that a clouded moon sent through the skylight. Some of the ghosts giggled. Some said, shh, shh. And the phantom sounds disturbed Miss Blake, I think, for a door opened far around the corner and a glimmer of light approached. The ghosts vanished and sheltered themselves in various beds where their slumbers became intense. I could not fly to a bed, because I dared not take another step forward, for the stately form with a dim nightlight had turned the corner. I was near the top of the stairs when the distant ray first appeared. I reached the stolen treasure up to the girls, and flew swiftly downstairs again and threw the skull-room to the front hall. I knew everybody was in bed, and up the front stairs to my room, which was over in the new part. As a cruel fate decreed, the girls were in too great a panic to secure the pie I handed up to them, and left it on the floor. My beloved hearers, cease these frivolous howls of laughter. The matter is serious. The pie was pumpkin, and Miss Blake stepped in it. Lily's listeners were shrieking with laughter over her droll recital, but she preserved a pretty naturally solemn expression which still more excited their mirth. Girls, said she at last, I intended this for a preachment, and how am I to give you the moral unless you refrain from this untimely mirth? Oh, Lily, don't look so fanny, gasped Katie, throwing herself on the bed and holding her sides. Don't look at me, but listen, then, for I only told the story to get the moral in, so I can't skip it. I wanted to tell Mrs. Abbott I took the pie, but the girls wouldn't let me. I was just about as happy in my mind and Jovial in my countenance's bell seems to be. Was there any fest made? asked Anna. Oh, plenty. Miss Blake was very angry at the outrage, she called it, and seemed to think the pie was planted there for a sort of trap to catch her in. Mrs. Abbott talked about it in school in that solemn, sweet way of hers, and said she would like the offender to come to her room. I wasn't brave enough to accept that invitation in defiance of the girls, and the next morning she made a new rule, forbidding any girl to go into another one's room after bedtime. At last the burden of my secret grew too tormenting, and three weeks after the lark, I crawled into her room and confessed. What did she say? asked Fanny in bell together. Oh, I whither of small when I think of it. She looked up from her Kensington work and said in the calmest way, I knew it was you, dear, for I saw you fly up the front stairs. I was in the dark closet in the hall, groping for an extra blanket, and oh, Margaret found a narrow Roman ribbon the next morning that had been tied around a braid in the dining room pantry. I recognized the ribbon as yours. And she took it from her desk and handed it to me. You must have felt cheap! Oh, my, and I felt worse still when she took my hand and said, Lily, I have not cared a straw for your taking the pie, but it has hurt me to learn you were not high-principled enough to own what you had done. There I had been playing the innocent and unconscious, and she knew what I had done, and she had never told Miss Blake. I tell you, Belle, Mrs. Abbott is an angel, and ever since that time I have preferred telling her anything to keeping it to myself. Is that the moral? asked Anna. Perhaps you don't see it. Well, I'll make it plainer. Don't conceal your omissions and commissions for Mrs. Abbott, and Fanny, you'll be more comfortable if you let Belle go and tell her. Fanny hesitated a moment, then half sullenly gave her permission, and Belle flew off on her not-too-easy errand. The other girls went off in different directions, all but Marion, who surprised Lily by seizing both her hands and exclaiming, Oh dear, dear Lily, I thank you so! You are extremely welcome, Lily said, with a greatly puzzled gaze at her, although I hardly see why you should be so gravely simply because my eloquence persuaded poor Belle into a penitential PPC on Mrs. Abbott. Perhaps I wakened your conscience. Have you stolen a pie or taken a trip to the station? Marion laughed, but did not explain, and her heart was very light. For now Mrs. Abbott could ask Belle all the questions she wanted, and learn all the particulars of the girl's encounter with a suspicious young man. In Vacation Marion felt a little desolate as the last of the light-hearted, homework-bound crowd left the front door, with faces bright with the happy prospects before them. In their own delight, the girls were rather thoughtless and farewells to the lonely girl who was left. She could hardly keep back the tears as she turned away from the door and walked slowly to the empty schoolroom. She sat down by the desk, and with her chin resting in the palm of her left hand, picked up a pencil and scribbled idly on an envelope that lay at hand.  Then she started so violently that she almost fell off her chair. I beg your pardon, he exclaimed, retreating a little way to give her time to recover. I must seem impertinent, but I am so much at home in my sister's house that I am apt to prowl around the rooms in this lawless way. Then you are Mr. Eaton, said Marian, looking up into the kind, trustworthy eyes which returned her gaze with one as honest and frank as her own. Thank you for guessing me out like an easy riddle. Now see if I can make a shrew to guess. You are Marian. How could you know, said Marian, wonderingly? That is not the only thing I know, said Mr. Eaton. I know that when you turned and saw me, you thought I had come to kidnap Ethel Bellamy? Oh, said Marian, coloring violently. How could you think that? You don't deny it, though, said Mr. Eaton, looking very much as if he wanted to laugh heartily. But how did you know? Persisted Marian, pressing the backs of her hands to her red cheeks, which would not grow cool. I have a Yankee trick of putting two and two together. And my sister is a graphic letter writer. I am so sorry I was detained. Can I get her before she went away? She is coming back the day after tomorrow, Marian told him. And I know she expected you, but she was obliged to go to New York on business. Did you take the little one? But never mind telling me if there is a lingering doubt in your mind that I may not, after all, belong to the vicious lot who are after poor Ethel Great's child.  You look so exactly like Mrs. Abbott that I am sure of you. Do I, he said, pulling his heavy mustache thoughtfully. Of course she has no mustache, laughed Marian. But the eyes. And the gray hair. Yes, we are a pair of grizzled twins, and people generally think as much like. But, Miss Marian, do you feel certain enough of me to tell me if the little girl has gone with my sister? I had hoped to find her here. Mrs. Abbott did not like to leave her, but she took Candice to take care of her. Then it seems to me that the burden of entertaining me for a day or two is likely to fall to your unhappy lot. What shall you do to amuse me? I will show you which room you are to have, and order a big picture of hot water sit right up. Mrs. Abbott asked me to if you came. That will be very amusing, thank you. I like him so much. Marian said to herself as she came up from the kitchen after giving orders for the hot water, and suggesting that dinner should be served on one of the little tables used to stand dishes on instead of the long, tea-shaped table, which was a pleasant sight to see when teachers and scholars surrounded it, but would be doleful for two lone diners to contemplate. She and Mr. Eaton did not meet again till the dinner bell summoned them to the long, lonely dining-room. He was standing behind one of the two chairs Lenny had placed at opposite sides of the little square table. He made a slight motion, which she misunderstood, for her to take the chair upon which his hand rested. She rather shyly walked toward the other side, and he quickly stepped around and drew out that chair for her, waiting with grave, old-fashioned courtesy to take his own seat till she was comfortably settled in hers. It was all very embarrassing to Marian. She collared distressingly, but Mr. Eaton, whose manners were always charming, talked to her so entertainingly that she was soon smiling and enjoying the cozy dinner with him very much. What would you have done if I had not come? he asked, after Lenny had put the dessert on the table and left the room. I should have been very lonely, and I don't believe I could have eaten any dinner. I have enjoyed my dinner far more for having you to eat it with me, but it would be affectation for me to say that I couldn't eat without company, for I took every meal alone for two months in an African hut, and had a very fair appetite on some very peculiar diet. Oh, what made you stay so long in that kind of a place? said Marian, adding, as she remembered he had been a missionary. Did you stay because you thought it was your duty? I felt that it was my duty to get away as soon as I possibly could, for I had strong reasons for supposing that I was only fed, watched and tended by my black captors to keep me in order for a certain annual ceremonial, which was considered a very poor show indeed, unless a few captives were sacrificed to lend a clay to the occasion. Oh, how dreadful! No, I don't think I liked any part of it except the escape. That will always be a gratifying remembrance. Lily said you told lovely stories. said Marian. Lily Dart, if it is she you mean, is a great friend of mine, and a person with an insatiable thirst for stories, but I don't propose to inflict one on you now. But oh, please tell me how you got away. Someday when we both feel like it, I will tell you the beginning and end of this story. As for the middle part, I can tell you now that my escape from the hut was not of a hare-breath character. Although the journey I had to take to put a safe space between myself and my enemies was sufficiently exciting, I did not intend to tell any traveller stories this vacation, he added, smiling at the intense interest in Marian's face. But you have almost beguiled me into it. Oh, I should so like to hear how you got out of the hut, said Marian. There is generally a story within a story. Six months before I had administered some generous doses of medicine to a chief who was believed to be dying with the result of affecting a rapid cure, this man with some attendant warriors happened to call a halt in the vicinity of my prison. As a matter of etiquette, the captives were exhibited to the visitor. I did not then recognize the recovered invalid in his feathers and paint, but during the night he stole into my tent, and by signs and the use of the little of his native language which was at my command, we had a short but delightful interview which ended in his taking me out of the hut, stepping over a dozen dark sleepers. They usually guarded me vigilantly, but my friend had managed to drug them into stupidity. After passing them safely, I was given over to the care of two men who guided me on the way I wished to pursue till daylight when they left me to my own devices. Oh, how interesting, said Marian, drawing a long breath. I have read about savage countries and people, but I never expected to know anyone who had really seen them. End of Chapter 18, Recording by Nancy Isaacs Chapter number 19 of The Friendly Five This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, auto-volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Friendly Five by Mary C. Hungerford, Chapter 19 A Happy Day The next day was one of the happiest Marian had ever spent. Mr. Eaton took her for a long drive to a lovely distant village that looked sleeping off in the winter, but was a gay scene in summer, he told her.  They were both close now, but Mr. Eaton drew to a smaller one which was always open, and there, while the fat pony rested and enjoyed his oats, they took dinner. The table was quite long and full, and from where Marian sat, she could look through a little hall to the kitchen where some women were washing piles of dishes at a long table. It reminded her vividly of the time when she spent hours every day at the same kind of work. Was it only last summer? She lifted up her hand and looked at it inside and out. It was not white yet, but the palm was growing pink and soft. Two cents for your thoughts, said Mr. Eaton, smiling to see her apparent forgetfulness. I wasn't thinking of anything particular, said Marian, starting from her reverie. Were you not? There was an intentness about you which gave me the impression that you were thinking out some problem. I don't know what I said that for. I was thinking of something particular. I was thinking of all the days of my life till Mrs. Abbott brought me to Coventry. I should say that was a pretty long thing for such a short time. But Mr. Eaton, I used to wipe dishes just as you can see those girls in there. I did it for hours every day. I think I was too ashamed for a minute to tell you that when you asked me what I was thinking of. Honest Marian colored as she made this confession which Mr. Eaton took very equally, in some way giving the impression by his manner that he considered washing and wiping dishes a very natural and everyday affair. But as they were driving home over the snow with spucket like diamonds under the morning sun, but took a warm rosy tint in the sunset light, Mr. Eaton told Marian a little Persian story which showed he had been thinking of the matter. A king sent one of his ministers one day to carry jewel-stick queen he delighted to honour. When the proud trust was accomplished, the messenger walked among the courteurs with lifted head and lofty bearing and everyone stroked to be noticed by a man so honoured and trusted. A few days after the king sent him to clean with his own hands the steps of the marketplace where dogs and beggar children scrambled and fought for the refuse that was thrown out and where the long undisturbed accumulation of dirt had made that entrance hideous. When his work was ended the man came back from the uncongenial task with as proud a step, as lofty a carriage, as serene an eye as when he returned from his errand of trust and honour. Of the sneers and jeers of the courteurs at his abasement and their laughter at the stains and soil upon his white gold wrought robes he seemed unconscious. At the king's feet he knelt as he knelt the day before and said what thou didst give me to do my king I did as I could. And which service was most pleasing to thee? asked the king. All things that are done for thee are alike pleasing to thy servant was the answer. And the king, turning to his people, said he is greater than y'all, for his love and obedience make base services as great as royal embassies. Do you understand that, Maryam? He asked as they turned the familiar corner which brought the school with its high fence in sight. I think so, she said hesitatingly. Isn't it that if the Lord gives us a disagreeable thing to do, a duty that seems disgraceful, we should, if we love him, do it just as if it was something noble? That is it, exactly, and there is no disgrace in washing dishes. It seems to me to become a noble service when the tired little hands are working to bring comfort to helpless dear ones. He said that very softly, looking away into the soft cloud banks that were fast dissolving themselves into the long, stratified dark lines that bridged the space from dusk to dark. He seemed almost to be talking to himself, but Maryam knew well that his words was spoken to comfort her. She would gladly have said some word of thanks, but none seemed to come out. Not even when he lifted her out of the sleigh at the door and told her to run in and get warm could she express the pleasure the day had given her. But although she did not know it, her delight showed plainly in her bright face and in the happy sparkle of her big, honest, gray eyes. Mrs. Albert came home the next morning and engrossed her brother so entirely that Maryam would have greatly missed a companion of the last day, or two if she had not had full consolation in Elfie society. The child's love for her grew stronger every day and Candice was almost jealous when her little Missy refused to say her prayers, with her little bowed head resting upon any one's lap but Maryam's. LETTERS The mail-bag came in as usual just after breakfast the next morning, but the number of letters was greatly reduced, of course, and there was no animated chattering crowd standing about eagerly watching while Mrs. Albert unlocked the padlock and distributed the letters. Maryam had never received a letter in her life, so she and Elfie walked past the hall table where Mrs. Albert was opening the bag without so much as a glance at it. But they had not reached the top of the stairs before Mr. Eaton called out, LETTERS FOR YOU, MARIAN! LETTERS FOR ME? Oh, no, they can't be mine. They must be for some of the other girls. But how very, very imbecile their correspondence must be to direct them to Miss Maryam's stubs, holding up two square envelopes, one white, the other robin's egg blue. Don't you think you'll have to open them so as to see which of the girls they are really meant for? Or shall I lay them away till vacation is over and then put them up at auction? He is teasing you, Maryam, said Mrs. Albert, glancing up from the letter she was reading. They are really for you. Such a pleasure, actually, to have letters of her own. Maryam had often envied the girls when they clutched their letters from home and became absorbed in their contents, smiling, exclaiming, and sometimes almost crying as their eyes devoured the home news. But poor Mrs. Stubbs, with her broken down health and her never-ceasing work, had no time to write to her daughter, and even if she had, it was so many years since she had written a letter that she would hardly know how to do it.  But there were actually letters for her today, and the joy of receiving them was so great that Maryam laid them face-up on her table and gloated over them, not for some time attempting to make them reveal their contents. When she did break the seal of the blue-tinted envelope, she read these astonishing lines.  I mean Lily and me. That is, if you want to. Mama said our house was going to be too empty at Christmas, and I might invite some girls. So I chose you and Lily, and Mama has written to Mrs. Abbott about it, and I do hope she will let you come. Ever your affectionate friend, Catherine Stowe Ashley. That stately signature did not seem like Katie, but Maryam knew perfectly well whose hand wrote the invitation, which filled her heart with rapture, not for the pleasure of anticipating a visit, for she was not sure she really wanted to go, but it was delicious to feel that she was wanted, and that dear, warm-hearted, loving Katie had chosen her when she might have asked Edna, or Belle, or any of the girls who were used to better ways of living and better society than she had known. Mrs. Abbott, coming into her room with Elphie a few moments later, found her plunged in a happy reverie with the second letter still unopened. Listen, dear, she said, sitting down by her side. This letter of mine very nearly concerns you. New York, Madison Avenue, December 20. My dear Mrs. Abbott, will you let Katie's friend, Miss Maryam Stubbs, come and spend a portion of the holidays with us? If you will let her come, Mr. Ashley will meet her at the Grand Central Station on the 24th, if you will let us know the train. With kindest regards, yours very sincerely, E.T. Ashley. You don't look surprised. No, I knew Mrs. Ashley had written to you, and Maryam handed Katie's letter to her. Isn't it good of them, she asked, watching Mrs. Abbott's face till she finished reading? Yes, I am glad you are to have such a treat, for I feared it would be dull for you here. It could not be dull with you and Elphie and Mr. Eaton, said Maryam, and I don't know as I really want to go. I am afraid I should know just how to act always, and I might make Katie ashamed before her friends. That is doing Katie great injustice. Oh, I don't mean it that way, exclaimed Maryam, kissing her letter impulsively. I know you don't, but my dear child, you haven't read your other letter. That was from Lily, and as might be expected, was very funny. Smiles and dimples attended Maryam's reading of it, and when she had finished she handed it to Mrs. Abbott, who said, Won't you read it to me yourself, so that Elphie can enjoy it too? So Maryam began. Dear left behind her. It was brutal in us to go off and leave the dear little mountain made all to herself, and Katie and I talked ourselves into a fury of sympathy after we got into the cars. The only comfort we had was in hoping Mr. Eaton would get there right away. He's a dear. Now I feel the spirit of Posey jumping on to me. Attend, please. Old Coventry brazier Bonnie, where early falls the dew. But that, my dear old Maryam, is not the place for you. So give us your promise true, that never get chubby. To do as Katie asks you, unpack your trunk with glee. I don't believe I can do the subject justice in poetry, so I'll go back to prose. Do come, maid Maryam. You must. If you don't, you shall be blackballed next term. That means something awful. I feel in my bones that you will try not to come. But you must. I want to tell you something. We heard Edna say in the cars that Mrs. Ashley went in the best set in New York. And she'd give anything if her mother knew her. Now don't that make you want to show Edna's spiteful humbug? What you can do? It will be just fun to see her rage about it next term. If you dare to say no, you'll break my heart. I shall think it's because I am going to be there. Katie was always nice to you, but I was horrid, just wicked. And even if you did forgive me, no one can blame you if you can't forget. But if you don't come, I shall just be a raving wreck. And I won't go to Katie's if you don't. So there now I have said it.  So come along and Christmas spent and likewise New Year's with your friend. Blurl understood. Couldn't say spends. So had to take the S off the friends. There's awful limitations to poetry. Katie hates writing letters so awfully that I told her if she'd just write the bear invitation, I'd do the urging. Now I'm sure I don't know what more I can say to make you come.  And I'll send word to Mrs. Abbott to have you chloroformed and carried onto the cars with your feet tied so you can't kick when you come to. Don't be afraid to come. For Katie's mother is almost as sweet as Mrs. Abbott. And Mr. Ashley is lovely. He almost shakes himself to bits laughing. I believe that's why he's so bald.  Now you are coming, aren't you? Yes, yes, yes, yes. Say you are coming my sweet to visit our Katie in Madison Street. It isn't street. It's Avenue really. But I took poet's license. Now farewell, your loving Lily. P.S. Oh, do come. Particular P.S. Come now. Don't say no. Mrs. Abbott laughed heartily when the letter was read. I really think Lily is the most sprightly girl I ever had in my school. I never saw anyone I envied so much, said Marion. You did not, dear. We all have different gifts. But that is not to say that one kind ranks above another. Lily's a vivacity leads her into trouble sometimes. And I have heard her say, when she has been suffering the consequences of her thoughtlessness, that she wish she was more like you in some things. But we will take a more convenient season for discussing gifts and traits. For now, we must give our minds to shoes and clothes for this visit. Oh, do you really think I had better go? I am sure of it, and you and I and Lily must work hard. Fortunately, she can work nicely on the machine, and she has little else to do in vacation. When I was in New York, I bought for your Christmas present a red cashmere dress and a brown plush sack that I try on a girl about your size. I think we can get the woman who made Elfie's dresses to give us tomorrow and the next day. So we shall turn out a very respectable little red bird for a city visit. End of Chapter 20 I am sorry, I am not leaving her seat. Jenny will bring in the tea. She knows what that bell means at this hour. And Lily, do stop asking Marianne questions. She's only been in the house half an hour, and I know she's all worn out with the trip. Worn out? Why, it was splendid. I was sorry, it wasn't longer. The girls were sitting in Katie's own pretty room, where everything was primrose and gold. And she and Lily were doing their best to make Marianne feel at ease in the rather embarrassing ordeal of making her first visit. Mr. Ashley had met her at the station and was cordiality itself. Mrs. Ashley's greeting was heartfelt too, and the two girls flung themselves upon her in vociferous welcome. Perhaps they have both felt a little nervous about her, but there was no need. Her close observation of such a good model, as Mrs. Abbott, and her quick faculty of imitation had so changed her manner and speech that there was really nothing to object to. She had benefited too by the cruel ridicule of her thoughtless schoolmates, which had been lacerating while it lasted, and very hard to bear. Katie took her up to the pretty room she was to occupy after they had finished their little cups of tea and eaten a thin slice of bread and butter. We should have to put you both into the guest chamber ordinarily, she said, but Brother Jim and my two unmarried sisters are travelling in Europe with grandfather, so there's lots of room. See, Lily's door opens into your room, so you needn't feel lonesome. I am going to get Mama to send a delt to dress your hair. She always does mine when I am at home. Marianne declined the services of the French maid, but Katie laughed and ran down again, and in a few minutes Adele came in, having been ordered, she said, to help the young lady. Mrs. Abbott had told Marianne to do as far as she could what her friends expected her to while she was visiting them, so she submitted to having her hair dressed, and received so many compliments from Adele on its length, quantity, and beautiful curliness that she was quite comforted. When she looked in the glass after the hairdressing was over, she hardly knew herself, and Lily, running in just then, fell into raptures. Where have you always hidden all that beautiful hair? she exclaimed. Why, you are positively lovely with your red cheeks and that fluff on your forehead. I wonder if Adele could change me into a beauty. But look here, Marianne, you want to wear your best dress, the blue one you know, tonight, because there's to be a Christmas tree and the married son and daughter are coming, and there awfully swell. I have a prettier dress than that, a red one, and Marianne exhibited her new dress. My, but I am glad, said Lily, for really, do you know, Marianne, I was wishing you had something pretty to come out in tonight. Truly, Marianne, with her hair stylishly arranged and delicate white frilling at the neck and sleeves of the bright red dress, was a pleasant picture as she took her seat by Lily's side at the dinner table. Katie explained to her mother that as life at Mrs. Abbott's included a two o'clock dinner, they must be excused if their appetites were feeble at a seven o'clock dinner. Mr. Ashley affected to consider this a great joke and went into little spasms of mirth every time the plates were changed, and the feeble appetites did not prevent the girls from tasting every dish that was offered. They were occupied with their dessert when the married Ashley children came. The son had a pretty little wife who looked nearly as young as Katie, and a wonderfully smart little black-eyed daughter of three, who asked the instant she came in where Dampard Twithmouth Tweed was. Mrs. Clifford Lee, the oldest Ashley daughter, was a tall, handsome young woman whose rather haughty bearing frightened Marion into awkwardness at first, but when an exclamation of rapturous admiration escaped her lips at the sight of two lovely children who were brought in by their nurses, the young mother's face softened into a gratified smile which made it charming. Marion had a feeling that Mrs. Clifford despised her, and Lily, who sometimes had very keen intuitions, suspected her feeling and whispered, Say, Marion, don't you worry. Katie has never said anything about you to her brothers and sisters. Not that there's much of anything to say, but you know what I mean. For answer Marion squeezed her hand lovingly and immediately felt more indifferent to Mrs. Clifford's haughty manner, which was, after all, nothing but manner, for she was really as good-natured and friendly as Katie herself. Mrs. Ashley excused herself and mysteriously retired to the drawing-room, between which and the dining-room the portiers were closely drawn together. Presently they slid swiftly apart and the whole company went toward the other end of the long room, where stood a dazzling Christmas tree lighted by a host of candles and brilliant with silver and gilt decorations that caught and reflected the light with glittering effect. The little one danced about gaily with outcries of delight, and Marion was done with admiration at her first sight of a real Christmas tree. She had read of them often, but never imagined they could be so beautiful. Mr. Ashley, with a tiny hand in each of his, began dancing his little granddaughter's about to the waltz, which was trilled out by an immense music box, till Mrs. Clifford reminded him that they were all pining for a view of their presence. So he put on an absurdly serious manner and began to gather the fruit that Santa Claus had raised in his own private hot-house, as he expressed it. The first fruit plucked was a beautiful doll, which was handed to little Hilda Ashley, who received it enthusiastically. Its twin was given to her oldest little cousin, and small Master Clifford received a box that stood under the tree, being too heavy to hang upon it. The young gentleman was immediately lost to sight behind the box, but his approval of the contents, as his nurse took them out, was distinctly audible. Horses and their attachments had been his craze all of his short life, and the majestic pair of bays with a big, solid express wagon that filled the box were almost large enough for actual service. There were many other presents for the children, which were taken in charge by their mothers, and then Mr. Ashley said Santa Claus owed them an apology for entirely forgetting to provide anything for the grown folks. Katie whispered to Marion that he had made that same remark every year since she could remember, but even if it was not strictly original, on the present occasion it was thought irresistibly funny. For while he was sadly shaking his head over the misfortune, he was untying the blue ribbon which held a Morocco box to the tree. This he handed mournfully to young Mrs. Ashley, whose eyes sparkled as she opened it and discovered an opal ring with a brilliant setting of diamonds. She flashed an appreciative look at her husband, who was watching her, and Marion felt sure the ring had been presented by him. Mrs. Clifford had from her husband a reminder that the day was also the anniversary of their wedding, in the shape of a lovely pin modelled from an antique Swedish wedding gift. The young men received a collection of umbrellas, canes, pins, and sleeve buttons, and then more boxes with gifts from father and mother and friends were taken down and given to their wives. Then Mr. Ashley, in a puzzled way, declared it seemed astonishing that three young and interesting girls should be left out, when everyone else was remembered. Even Mrs. Ashley, he said, had her pile, and a goodly pile it was. Katie abused him roundly as he slowly inspected parcels and boxes on the tree, and on the table behind it, and declared she would jump over the ribbon that was stretched across that end of the room for a dividing line. At last he slowly took down a square, flat box, then laid it on the table, remarking in a hopeless way that the writing was upside down. Turn it the other way! cried Katie, stamping her foot in mock anger. What a head you have! said her father, and he frisked around to the other side of the table as if the little box itself could not be turned. Why, it's your own name, he added in great surprise. So it is, but you didn't read it all. And Katie handed the box to Lily, pointing to the inscription, from Catherine Stowe Ashley to Lily Dart. There was a beautiful handkerchief with an embroidered edge in it, and another box handed then to Marion, held one just like it. From Mrs Ashley Lily received a gold bangle, and Marion's simple, but extremely pretty, gold and garnet breastpin, which quite took her breath away, and it seemed so magnificent. Mr Ashley kept up the farce of not being able to discover any remembrances for Katie, till that young lady became quite impatient. Then he handed her a carefully wrapped up diary with an elegant exterior and hopelessly blank interior. She received it with a comical little gesture, for it meant that her mother expected her to continue the daily record that she had pursued for four years. There was a gold thimble for Katie from her sister-in-law, a bewitching fan from Mrs Clifford, and lovely bits of travel, as Mr Ashley called the gifts from the absent sisters and brothers, who sent carvings from Sorrento, silver from Nuremberg, laces from Paris, and specialties from other points to all at home. Then Mr Ashley ceremoniously presented his youngest daughter with the prettiest pocketbook his researches among the shops could unearth. It would have been a diamond ring, Katie.  Katie laughed and admired her father's gift, remarking with some philosophy that she'd rather have it than a ring, for she could have the comfort of using it, and if she had had the ring, Mama would not have let her wear it till she was out of school. But you haven't examined the lining, Mr Ashley said anxiously, after nodding approvingly at her manner of receiving his gift. The lining was a check, and Katie, seeing its highly respectable amount, flew at her father in a transport. He retreated before her rush in mock terror, but on being caught returned her hug with interest, begging her in a loud whisper not to reveal the amount of her check to anyone. Katie's good sense was getting the better of the vanity and bragging that the girls at school used to find objectionable in her, and, true to some new resolution she had been making, she followed her father's Jaco's request and told no one but her mother the amount of her gift. I knew I should get some money, she said that night after the girls had gone up to her room, so I ran pretty deeply in debt for things for Mama's tree tomorrow. Another tree, exclaimed the girls in chorus, same one dressed over, but wait and see, it's twice the fun this was. End of Chapter 21 Chapter 22 of The Friendly Five This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Sylvie Roth The Friendly Five by Mary C. Hungerford Chapter 22 The Christmas Tree's Second Crop The habits of even a short lifetime are not easily changed, so before a single servant was a stir in that luxurious household, Marian had risen and dressed herself. Lily had no early rising habits to contend with, and so slept peacefully on till Adele came in to say that Mrs. Ashley wished to know if the young ladies required assistance in dressing, and to tell them breakfast would be ready in half an hour. Lily slipped her feet into a pair of slippers and came into Marian's room in a half-awake condition. Why, you early bird, she exclaimed, I do believe you got up to gloat over your new breastpin. Marian laughed and blushed, for it was true that she had been contemplating her first piece of jewelry for a long time with great content. I envy you, said Lily. Not the pin, but not having your first times till you were old enough to realize them. I thought of it last night, when your eyes were shining like diamonds and you looked like a peri who had squeezed into Eden after long shivering at the gate, like in one of Moore's poems.  Oh, it isn't poor or little, exclaimed shocked Marian. It is as pretty a pin as any of the girls had at school. And you did long for one, didn't you poor little kitty mouse? No, I didn't, because I didn't see how it's possible I could ever have one. But Lily, you won't be ready for breakfast. That was a very informal meal in the Ashley house, for the family never waited for the mistress, who is apt to breakfast in her own room, and Mr. Ashley was such a restless, active person that he usually dispatched his breakfast before anyone else began, and trotted off to call on his two sets of grandchildren. This morning the three girls had the table all to themselves, and Marian was lost in wonder at Lily, who did not seem in the least odd by the solemn butler, who seemed to her to be the most scornful and disapproving looking gentleman she had ever seen, and when Katie, with the courage of a lion tamer, calmly sent him downstairs because they wanted to discuss a private matter, she almost looked for an earthquake to happen next. The private matter was a present Mrs. Ashley wished to make to Mrs. Abbott, and was going to leave to the three girls to select and present as an offering from themselves. The discussion seemed interminable, and was still in full tide when Mr. Ashley came in, rubbing his hands and crying Merry Christmas to them. Here are sweets to the sweet, he continued, handing them each a two-pound box of Highler's very best, and here are charms to the charmers and gloves to the gloveless. And with trickles of delight, he arranged the packages in front of the girls, walking around the table and rubbing his hands gleefully while they unwrapped and explored. Everything was alike in each instance. Two pairs of gloves apiece, extra length, he explained solemnly, because the tops could be used to re-soll the bottoms. The charms were lovely silver chattelains, with smelling-bottle, bonbon box, and other hanging appurtenances, and the girls uttered their approbation in little screams of delight, in the midst of which Mr. Ashley put his hands over his ears and ran out of the room. And the best of Papa's Christmas morning gifts is that he doesn't mind you're giving them away to somebody else if you want. He wouldn't forgive anyone who parted with Christmas tree things, but these have no sentiment, he says. There'll be no danger of my parting with these glorious gloves, said Lily. I've never had any a mile long before, and do see Marion she's regarding hers with such reverence that I expect to see her swing incense in front of them in a minute. I believe she likes them better than her lovely chattelain. Oh no, but I can wear the gloves. Well, I suppose Papa thought you could, but can't you wear the chattelain, too? It seems too fine for me with the kind of clothes I wear. I'll tell you what, said Katie hurriedly, to avoid noticing Marion's embarrassment. We'll go around the Gorham tomorrow, right after breakfast, and change off that chattelain for other things. I know you're such a silly goose that you'd rather have a half-dozen trinkets to give away than this. It was worth something to see the pleasure in Marion's face at this suggestion, but Lily didn't give her time to say anything, for she sprang up and gave Katie a hug and resounding kiss with an emphatic declaration that she was the dearest girl that ever lived. And we'll give her our votes for the Bellamy Prize, won't we, though? She said to Marion as she resumed her seat. Adele came in, then, with a request from Mrs. Ashley that they would not fatigue themselves in their morning amusements, as she depended on them to entertain her guests at the Christmas tree from four to six in the afternoon. The drawing room was mysteriously closed, and when, at the appointed hour, the girls went in with Mrs. Ashley, they found it greatly changed from the night before. The tree was equally well-filled, but with gifts of a widely different character, and by its side and behind it stood tables strangely loaded. One was covered with stout shoes, another held a pyramid of bundles, each bearing a small placard. The third table, longer and wider than the others, was loaded with hats and caps. The room was lighted with gas, which seemed to have a bewildering effect upon the twenty guests who now began to arrive. The sudden change from daylight, or else the splendour of the brilliant tree, made each girl, as she entered, rub her eyes and look helplessly about for an instant. They were the members of Mrs. Ashley's class in the mission school, and every year she entertained them in this way. Katie and Lily did their best to make the company feel at home, but perhaps there was a tiny bit of condescension in their efforts, for the girls seemed shy and afraid to converse, but with Marion it was different. She knew by her own experience how embarrassing it was to step from the surroundings of poverty into unaccustomed elegance, and the lessons she had learned made her know what to say to these shy, awkward strangers to make them feel comfortable and at home. The guests were all gathered at last and seated where their eager eyes could feast upon the ever fertile tree, as Lily called it. Then, from behind the porters appeared Santa Claus smothered in furs. His long white beard indicated great age, but his agile and jerky method of skipping about contradicted the venerable effect. His pockets were puffed out and he carried a loaded pannier on his back. Taking his station with his back to the mantle, Santa Claus waved to seal-skin-gloved hands toward the company, saying, Class, pleased to rise, whereupon the guests all stood up, Katie and her friends also rising. If anyone present, continued Santa Claus, whisking up to the tree and back again to his place, wishes to share in these gifts, will she kindly signify it by saying, I would. Such an animated chorus of I woulds arose then that Santa Claus put his hands over his ears. Please, don't all speak at once next time, he said. Now, head of the class, tell me, which were made first, cats or kittens? What don't know next then? You don't know either, nor you. Why, who does know? All the class were giggling and nudging each other in great amusement, and at the last question, one girl called out, cats, and sank back upon a chair in a paroxysm of half-nervous laughter. Wrong, said Santa Claus severely. You know, every cat has to be a kitten first. Try again. Kittens screamed the whole class in concert. Oh, what an ill-taught class, cried Santa Claus, looking around slyly at Mrs. Ashley. I should think you'd know, there couldn't be kittens without cats for mothers. Which of them was made first, then? said the boldest member of the class, but the others pounced on her and called out, for shame, Liza Maria, so vigorously that she was completely crushed. You must ask your teacher, said Santa Claus politely, beginning to unload his pockets and hand out blue, scarlet, and brown mittens, a pair for each girl. And as you have such strange ideas of cats and kittens, here are some articles to refresh your memories about them. And by some dexterous gymnastics he freed himself from the large sack or pannier that ornamented his back and poured its load of muffs upon the floor. There was one for each girl, and they were quickly picked up and appropriated at the word of command. Then there was a general distribution of the useful gifts upon the table, and of those upon the tree, which were prettier if less useful, being little books, work baskets, photograph frames, and other trifles, such as girls without pocket money prize. There were some merry games, then, in which Katie and her friends took part, and the twenty happy visitors took their gifts home with beaming faces and grateful hearts. It may pal upon your fancy, my Marian, said Lily that night when they were undressing, but for the fiftieth time I must repeat my conviction that these Ashleys deserve their wealth. Oh, they do, assented Marian enthusiastically, and Katie grows nicer every day. Yes, Katie's getting gooder and gooder all the time, as little Elfie says, bless her heart. End of Chapter 22. The Letter in Cypher Sang Lily with mock pathos as the stage with its lively load of girls drove up to the front door, where Mrs. Abbott and Elfie smiled a cordial welcome. There's not a word of truth in that lament, Mrs. Abbott, my dear. Said Lily as she folded her teacher in a fervent hug, for I'm awfully, awful glad to get back. So am I, said Katie, and you, dear, said Mrs. Abbott, smiling at Marian, who could not easily release herself from Elfie's embrace of joyful welcome. It is coming home to me, answered Marian with glowing face. Have you had a pleasant visit? Oh, so delightful! May I come to your room tonight and tell you about it? Indeed you may. May I hear the history, too? said Mr. Eaton, just appearing from the library. The girls pounced upon him then, dragging him into the school room and asking a flood of questions and begging hard for the promise of a story after tea. He gave the promise readily, but it was not fulfilled. For an hour later a telegram summoned him away on business that could not be delayed. I don't understand why everybody has to be in the dumps just because Mr. Eaton had to go away, said Edna, discontentedly that evening. Because he's at joy forever, said Lily, and with him here the next two days of settling down to work would be just fun. Now they'll be deeply, darkly, beautifully blue, won't they, kid? Yes, the first days are generally pokey, said Katie, preparing to record her arrival in her new diary. We could have fun enough, said Edna, if Mrs. Abbott won't be too straight laced and antiquated to let us. How, for instance, there's a circus coming. I saw the bills posted up at the station, replied Edna. Lions and bears and a four-armed man, and a man with no arms at all who takes your picture with his toes and lots of jolly things. They won't do us any good, said Belberg Yon, for, you know, Mrs. Abbott disapproves of circuses. Well, they are low, said Edna, but I think it would be fun to go to one of the side shows, as they call them, and have our fortunes told by the Egyptians' finks. Oh, I've seen a picture of that kind of being.  She perches lightly on a wash stand and answers questions, I believe. But how can she talk without any arms and legs? said Louis Field, skeptically. Unless she uses the sign language of the deaf and dumb, I think limbs and members would be less indispensable than lungs, said Lily. But I don't understand, so I can't explain. It's some kind of claptrap, said Edna. I've read how it's done. There's glass-looking fronts and curtains at things, you know. What a beautifully clear explanation, said Lily. I just love to have my fortune told, said Katie. You couldn't understand her. Probably she's a real, genuine, imported sphinx. Speaks no English, nothing but pyramid, Lily said, mockingly. There's no such language as pyramid, is there? asked Katie, rather doubtfully. Well, then, she'd speak the language of the Ptolemies, whatever that was, and you couldn't understand it. But no matter what she speaks, you are not likely to see her. The matter was dropped then, but the next morning when Mrs. Abbott took her seat to open school, she found a yard-long pictorial advertisement of the circus laid conspicuously on the desk. On the margin was written, Please take us. On reading, which she shook her head gravely. I've had such requests before, she said severely, and all but the latest comers know how thoroughly I disapprove of circuses and all such exhibitions. She looked grave and displeased, and the girls discussing the matter afterward were very indignant at Edna, who had put the play-bill on the desk without their knowledge. She defended herself rather crossly, and a quarrel seemed inevitable, but Elfie, coming in with a book for Katie, made a diversion. Is you most crying, because you can't go to see the effulumps and the big, big bears? She asked, looking at Edna curiously. No, indeed, replied Edna, loftily. But I should like to have my fortune told by this fakes. Annie Abbott says that the spazinx in that picture isn't a real spazinx, said Elfie, consolingly. They all laughed so at her remarkable pronunciation, that her small head was tossed up with much dignity, and she said, with some asperity, it is not a bit ladified for folks to laugh at other folks's pronouncements. My Marian never laughs when I say my words wrong. Edna repressed the sneering remark she was ready to utter, for no one was allowed to say one word in dispraise of Marian before Elfie, who had been more than ever her champion since the affair of the poem. And Edna, to do her justice, was really very fond of Elfie, and immediately tried to propitiate her by making a boat out of writing paper, which the happy child carried off to sail in her basin. There she left it, with a freight of small paper dolls, when Candice called her to go out for a walk, and Marian, whose early training made tidiness a habit, carefully threw away the water, wiped out the basin, and put the paper boat in the window to dry, and, picking up a workbasket, sat down with it on her lap, and began to darn a stocking of Elfies as a pleasant surprise for Candice. As she worked, saying over a list of Roman emperors to make sure she had them at her tongue's end, some of the blurred characters in the little boat caught her attention, and she carefully unfolded it, finding, as she suspected, that it was a note written in cipher. Having had permission to read all she could, she amused herself by deciphering the curious words, and writing them down on a bit of paper. A part of the note was torn, but enough was left to make Marian very uncomfortable. It was written to Edna by Addy Mason, a rather delicate girl who lived in the village, and who came into school every day for only two or three studies. She had become very popular with the SCs, and had been frequently invited to their secret meetings, and the mysterious cipher had been explained to her. She was immensely flattered by all this privilege, although she knew her admittance to fellowship was owing to her usefulness in bringing purchases of maple sugar, candy, crackers, and raisins, and other such commodities as could be purchased at the county store, which the girls were not allowed to visit, except by a special permission, and that was rarely accorded. The cipher letter, after Marian copied it upon a fresh piece of paper, read thus. It was not a difficult cipher to read when you knew how, simply a leaving out of all the vowels, and writing every consecutive pair of words together, but as some of the girls who had tried to reach specimens of it said, it looked too heathenish for United States folks to read. Abolishing capitals also added to its obscurity. The translation, after Marian had puzzled it out and written it down in legible English, was by putting a defining rod in a blonde child's hand. That is what she has wanted for. Get her away from Marian and Candace, and bring her along. No one will ever know. That's what you get for meddling, Miss? Marian said to herself as, having made the copies and torn them up, she refolded the boat and applied herself again to the stockings and the Roman emperors. She continued, not conscious she was speaking aloud. I do hope she won't do it. Galba? Otho? Vitellius? Oh dear, I do hope she won't. Won't what, you funny old thing? asked Lily, looking in at the door. For a moment, Marian was tempted to tell her about the note she had read, and beg her to prevent Edna's taking Elfi outside of the gate, but she knew her interference might be resented, and Lily was so intolerant of tail-telling that she did not want to seem guilty of it. So she parried the question, and begged her to take the list she had copied from her history and see if she could say the Roman emperors correctly. Perfect, said Lily when she had done, but you always do say everything perfectly. And now, tell me what is bothering you, Molly Ann. You looked when I came in as though you had the weight of the world on your shoulders. But no coaxing would persuade the girl to tell, although she longed to talk about her discovery with someone. Of course, she could not tell Mrs. Abbott. The school girl's code of honor forbade that, but she resolved to watch Effie closely and prevent her, if possible, from being taken out of the gate, and if she could not do that, follow her herself, no matter how much her doing so might offend the girls.


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