Brenda's Ward Part 41

"I'm sorry that I did not," replied the young man, "but I'll do my best to help some one else catch him."

A little later Mr. Gamut and Balfour walked off together, and the Red Knoll household, left to itself, talked over the exciting evening. Mr.

Gamut and Balfour had both offered to stay, or even to sit up all night if Mrs. Stratford or the girls felt timid. But at last all agreed that the intruder had been so effectually put to flight that there was no danger of his returning.

That night Martine's dreams were filled with visions of a burglar chasing Balfour, with Mr. Gamut in a white muslin skirt following closely in pursuit. They were all late for breakfast, and were still at the table when the grocer brought the mail. There was but one letter for Martine, and she read it eagerly.

"What do you think?" she asked, when she had finished. "Elinor is going to stay over at York on her way to the mountains. She is to be at the Hotel for a day or two. Oh, I wish that she could stay here! What do you think, mamma? she could be comfortable in my room, and I would take the little one next."

"Certainly, my dear, you may ask her as soon as she arrives. When does she arrive?"

"Why, it must be to-day--for this is Thursday. I wonder why the letter was so slow. I'll go over as soon as the work is done."

Now it happened that Elinor herself made the first visit, as she had come in from Portsmouth on an early train. After they had talked of other things for half an hour, Martine told Elinor of their excitement of the evening before.

"Are you sure he didn't take anything?" asked Elinor. "I should think you wouldn't have slept a wink. I should have been awake all night after such a fright."

"I can't say I was frightened; it seemed rather funny. Do come upstairs with me now. I must see what the man left behind."

Elinor followed Martine upstairs.

"Why, Martine, what is this?" she cried, raising the white skirt "It is--why, it must be the gown I lost Cla.s.s Day--and this--it really is my trunk," and she gave Martine a severe glance as she bent toward a small trunk in the corner.

"Nonsense," cried Martine. "That is a skirt the burglar left, part of his 'booty,' as Angelina calls it, and this is one of our packing trunks. It has been here all summer."

"But it has my name on it," protested Elinor.

Martine shook her head. Elinor's manner reminded her of her manner on the day of their first meeting, and it annoyed her.

Nevertheless she bent down towards the label on the trunk.

"Don't look at me in that tone of voice," she said gayly, as she turned again toward her friend. "The label is certainly marked,

"_Miss Elinor Naylor_ _The Belhaven, Boston_

and now that I look at it closely I can see that this is not one of our trunks. But how did it come here, Angelina?"

"Oh, Miss Martine, we brought the trunk with us from Boston. It was in the storeroom. I don't know anything about it, except it came the day before Cla.s.s Day. There was a laundress working there that afternoon, and I remember she told me she had had a trunk sent to the trunk-room. I supposed you told her, and of course when we moved, all the trunks came here. You told me they were to come."

"Perhaps you are not altogether to blame, Angelina, although I wish that you had said something to mamma or me, and I still don't understand why the trunk was sent to us."

It was now Elinor's turn to explain. "I understand it all. When I left Bar Harbor for Cla.s.s Day, I simply put on a tag with my name and I didn't notice this old label, which was the one I used when I spent a day or two with you in the spring. The expressman followed the Belhaven tag, instead of keeping my trunk with Kate's aunt,--so if any one is to blame, it is I for leaving that tag on."

"I am not so sure of that," replied Martine. "If I had been a really up-to-date housekeeper I should have known exactly what trunks came down to York. Now I only hope that our burglar didn't make way with any of your things."

"We'll soon know;" already Elinor was on her knees before the trunk.

"No" she said, "I hardly think he took anything. The trunk is closely packed below the tray, and the tray would hold little more than these things he tumbled out. But I remember a set of topaz studs in a box that I put in this corner. The box is not here."

After a careful search neither she nor Martine could find the studs. But Elinor was philosophical over this loss.

"In finding the trunk I feel as if I had recovered a small fortune--and I can bear the loss of the studs. I daresay Kate will be pleased to get back her things, although she is so up-to-date, that she may consider these cla.s.s-day clothes old-fas.h.i.+oned now, as they were made to wear two months ago."

"How ridiculous!" exclaimed Martine, "and yet," she admitted, "I can remember when I would not wear anything that was not of the very latest, but now--why this is a last year's s.h.i.+rt-waist, and you know how the sleeves have changed."

A few hours later Martine and Elinor were telling the story of the "Cla.s.s-day trunk," as they dubbed it, to a group of merry young people on the piazza of the hotel, and every one teased Martine about her skill in abstracting so important a part of Elinor's wardrobe.

After a day or two at the hotel, Elinor began a visit at Martine's that lengthened itself into a week, and during her friend's stay Martine's life was as gay as that of the gayest at the Harbor. She drove, she sat at noon with the gay throng under the pavilion to watch the bathers. She would not bathe, because she had brought no bathing-suit to York, and because it was too late in the season, she said, to begin a course of spectacular bathing. She went with a sailing party on Herbert's cat-boat, although before Elinor's arrival she had refused all his invitations. She spent two mornings at the Club watching the tennis tournament, and she accepted invitations to two luncheons given in Elinor's honor.

"Martine," said Mrs. Stratford, two or three days after Elinor's arrival, "Would you not like to have a luncheon for Elinor? On a small scale we could manage it very well."

"Oh yes, Mrs. Stratford," interposed Angelina, who overheard the suggestion. "I've just been longing for Miss Martine to have some kind of an entertainment. There's something going on every day, and I don't like Miss Martine to be the only one that doesn't entertain--not that I'd be so presuming as to talk of anything you hadn't spoken of yourself," she concluded hastily. She was bright enough to notice an expression of surprise on Mrs. Stratford's face.

"It would make some trouble for you," said Martine.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind that, and I'm always happy when there's something going on."

"Lucian's last letter was more cheerful;" Martine said this to draw her mother out.

"Yes, my dear, and I am sure you need not let your father's health stand in the way of your party. I am sure that he is better."

"But ought we to spend money in that way?"

"It will not cost much."

"I know,--but still."

"There, write your notes. They should be sent at once."

"Instead of a luncheon, mamma, let me have a tea late in the afternoon and ask boys as well. Herbert has been very good to Elinor, and Atherton has given us a lot of time, and there are several others. I wish I needn't ask Carlotta, but I must. However, I can leave out the most of her crowd."

Elinor helped Martine write the notes, and Angelina took hold of the preparations with a heartiness that spoke for success.

The tables were spread out-doors, one for serving chocolate and coffee, one for lemonade. Elinor and Clare gathered flowers in abundance, especially great cl.u.s.ters of St. Anne's lace, that proved a most effective table decoration.

In spite of the short notice nearly all whom Martine invited accepted the invitation, even Carlotta and two or three of her set, who "never would be missed," said Martine almost ruefully as she read their replies.

"Then why did you ask them?" Elinor's tone was reproachful.

"Oh, because--well, because I had no good reason for leaving them out.

They have all invited me to something or other, and of course in one way I want them, only Carlotta is so critical that I hate to think of her making fun of things here."

"She will have cause to be critical if you do not hurry down to the village for that extra cream. It's strange they forgot to leave it this morning. Of course," concluded Elinor, "I think that Carlotta might have been prompter in answering your invitation, but when she comes she'll be on her best behavior."

Now it chanced that as Martine was returning from the village, warm and a little tired, carrying a large bottle of cream under one arm and a package of odds and ends on the other, she met Carlotta and three or four others driving rapidly down from the Club. How it happened Martine never knew, but an unlucky stumble made her lose her hold of the bottle, and as it flew into the road the cream emptied itself in a sticky pool in the dusty road.

Poor Martine! The drag slowed up. She thought she heard a half-suppressed outburst of laughter. But in a moment Herbert stood beside her. He had slipped down from the drag, and he looked at her now as if waiting for her to tell him what to do.

"Let me help you," he said at last.