Chapter II: Ups and Downs

THEO, with her quick sympathies, was most anxiously concerned for her brother's friend, Gilbert Rogers. And when certain gossiping remarks came to her ears, she resented them with all the warmth of her youthful spirit, but only in Archie's hearing, for she did not think it wise to repeat the gossip to any one else.

It was Val who finally stirred up a more general indignation in the little household. She came in, one afternoon, when all were sitting on the porch, swept by Gilbert with the air of a tragedy queen, her blue eyes blazing, and her little head held up in the haughtiest manner. After she had passed into the house, silence fell upon the group, broken at last by Archie.

"Whew!" he ejaculated. "I feel as if a cyclone had passed us. What do you suppose has been disturbing my lady Le Moyne? She wears the most indignant expression I have seen for many a day. Has any one been 'sassing' her?" turning to the group.

All protested innocence, though Gilbert looked a trifle uneasy.

Miss Janet arose and followed Val to her room. The door was locked, but she caught the quick tread of the girl as she paced the floor. Auntie knocked. There was no answer.

"It is auntie, dear," she said, presently.

Against auntie's appeal there was never any protest, and Val immediately opened the door, the indignant tears standing in her eyes, as auntie said, "What has been angering my little girl? Something more than usual, I am sure."

"It is that horrid, horrid girl!" replied Val, with a quick stamp of her little foot.

"My darling child, don't be so vehement. What is it, now? You must not be influenced by silly school-girl tales."

"This isn't a school-girl tale; it is the truth. I heard it from a perfectly reliable source. I am eighteen, auntie, and I am old enough to have some sort of womanly rights. I will not have people say what is not true of me."

"There! There!" coaxingly said Miss Nelson. "Sit down here and tell me all about it. We can sift down your information, and see how much need there is for your righteous indignation."

Val established herself in a chair and rocked fiercely for a few moments. Then she broke out with, "It makes me ashamed even to tell you, auntie, but you shall know it. Fly Crawford has told Gilbert that I am in love with him. Did you ever hear of such a mean, contemptible thing?"

"How do you know she told him?"

"She boasted of it to one of the girls."

"It is a very mean act, one quite unworthy of a noble nature, but I am afraid Lee Crawford has not a noble nature. We all know it is not true, dear child."

"Yes, of course you do; and Theo does; so does Archie. But how do I know what Gilbert thinks?"

"Why, my dear, Gilbert surely is not so vain as all that. You have treated him just as you have Jack and Teddy Forester and the other boys, have you not?"

"Ye-s," replied Val, a little doubtfully; "except when we first knew the boys, auntie, I was a little flirty then. But I was only a little girl four years ago, and he cannot attach any importance to what I did then."

"I remember," returned auntie, smiling.

"Fly has never forgiven me for deserting her faction," continued Val, "and has shown her resentment in more ways than one; but this caps the climax, and I will not have it. Oh, auntie! I wish you would talk to him and let him know how utterly unworthy Fly is. I know you do not like to have us say unkind things of other girls, and I try not to, to outsiders, but Gilbert is too good a fellow to be thrown away on such a girl as that. I don't see how he can be so blind."

"Lee Crawford has very taking little ways: she is bright and pretty. Gilbert is probably the last one to hear the real truth, and if he does hear, he is apt to resent it. There is a very perverse side to human nature, and a man must be singularly strong to exercise level judgment in such matters. I am afraid it would do no good, Val."

"Oh, but, auntie, you—he surely knows you could have no other motive than his best good; he has such respect for your opinions. Won't you try? I cannot have such things said of me. If you cannot help me, I shall have to tell Archie, and then there will be a bigger fuss. Oh, dear! Why do such serpents have to exist? I have tried not to be down on Gilbert; but it does lower him in my opinion to have him countenance a girl who could be so contemptible; it makes me feel as if his own sense of honor were less than I thought."

"It is all his vanity, my child; that being appealed to makes him lose sight of the other things. I will try what I can do, Val, though I am opposed to any interference in such affairs, as a rule; it seldom does any good. If he is really very much interested, I am sure he will not listen; but if it is merely a fancy, a word of warning may be timely. I agree with you that Gilbert is entirely too good a boy to have his life ruined by an utterly unscrupulous girl.

"It is strange how girls of that character can so often dominate really good men. I suppose it is, as some one says, that we see in others the reflex of ourselves, and Gilbert's is an honest soul, which doubtless finds it hard to recognize duplicity in another. His vanity is his greatest weakness, and that, I hope, is a failing born of his youth, rather than a radical defect of character; but through his vanity, Lee, I fancy, has obtained her hold upon him. Now, don't let this trouble you, dear; had Lee been a friend of yours, she could not have done it. But since we know she is not, you must try to dismiss the whole matter."

"But I shall hate to see Gilbert again," said Val, in a troubled voice.

"You must try to treat him just as usual; and, dear girlie, let this help you in this way to learn that it 'is dangerous to strike leagues of friendship with cheap persons.'"

"Oh, I know, I know. I might have been a 'cheap person' myself, if I had not had you to warn me, auntie."

It was hard for Miss Nelson to give Gilbert the warning she desired to give which should not seem harsh and prejudiced, but which should open his eyes to the true character of Lee Crawford. But, fortunately, the young man's fancy was not very deep, and obstinacy was not a distinctive feature in his make-up. And then Miss Nelson was wise enough to be able to convince him that hers was only a loving interest. And since he knew her abhorrence of gossip, he attached more importance to her opinions than he would have done to those of the ordinary woman.

"I should be so glad," said Miss Janet, "to help Lee, to bring her into our own circle, but I am afraid it would do her little good and do my own girls harm. And I doubt if she would accept our advances in the right spirit; it is not as if she were a homeless, motherless girl. She has had good influences all her life; her parents, her teachers, her friends, have all interested themselves in her. She knows what is right; it is not through ignorance that she errs."

"I feel very sorry for her," said Gilbert.

"So do I," returned Miss Nelson; "but does it not occur to you, Gilbert, that if she really wanted to do well she would do it for her own sake as much as for yours? That she would scorn to use meretricious means to secure your interest? That by poisoning your mind against your friends, she proves herself less your friend than her own self-lover? Think it over. Can you be sure that vague hints, little flouting remarks, have not had their effect upon you? Have you not lately felt that we were old-fogyish and straitlaced, and that you were cultivating a very desirable breadth of charity for humanity in general and Lee Crawford in particular?"

Gilbert looked up quickly. "How could you tell that? But, Miss Nelson, she does not have a bad influence over me."

"Are you sure?"

"I really think not. How could she do me any harm?"

"In several ways. Persons might say that you are completely hoodwinked by a very clever girl. Do you like to know that? Is it pleasant for your friends to hear, 'Poor Gilbert Rogers! He is so simple, he cannot see what a fool that girl is making of him.' Or, to hear, 'If that is the kind of a girl Gilbert Rogers prefers, he must be of the same stamp. We would rather not invite him here.'"

"Oh, Miss Nelson, that is a little far-fetched."

"Do you think so? It might be in some circles, but we are perhaps a bit old-fashioned in our codes of morality, and I have heard it said more than once. Again, would you want for a wife a woman whom your best friends could not respect? Although marriage is probably very far from your present thought, an infatuation might result in such a thing before you are in a position for it."

Gilbert was silent a moment, then he said, "I believe I have a good influence over her. Suppose I should give her up, might I not have helped her to be better if she is all you say?"

"Dear boy, surely, if when she knows your standards, she cannot make an effort to reach them, if when she is anxious to obtain your best opinions, she still does the same audacious things as before, still talks as compromisingly, still maintains the same light behavior, still continues by her actions to forfeit the respect of your friends, do you think she would be better when she had actually won your affection? If now, when she should, by reason of her interest in you, be naturally striving to live above reproach, and is no better, do you think you can expect much later?"

"But I have promised to be her friend," said Gilbert, distressedly.

"So you may be, in moderation; but that does not mean that you must give the greater part of your spare time to her, that you must devote yourself to her in such a degree as to excite remark. I trust I am neither prejudiced nor uncharitable. I should open my arms to her if she cared for such a refuge, if I knew she desired to know the better things of life, but that way does not lie her inclination."

"But how do we know," persisted Gilbert, "that all we have heard is not gossip: mere idle tales from jealous girls?"

"Jealous! My dear boy. Why jealous? Are you such a desirable person that mothers and daughters must combine to attract you from any one? Why jealous of you more than others? There are numbers of other boys who are quite attentive to other girls we know, but we do not hear a word against the girls in consequence. Look at Jessie Meredith; there is no more popular girl in the town; she has attention enough to turn any one's head, but you do not hear anything said in her disfavor. No, my dear boy, a girl whom good mothers forbid as an associate for their daughters is not a safe companion for a young man, either."

Gilbert looked rather sheepish. "You think I am dreadfully conceited, don't you, Miss Janet?"

Miss Nelson smiled. "I think you are a little too fond of admiration, but I do not think it is a hopeless defect. Later on, I expect to see you develop into a very sound man. You know, my dear boy, there is no real friendship in which truth is not the first element, and you do believe me to be your friend."

"I do," replied Gilbert, warmly. "Miss Nelson, I know I shall thank you for all this, but just now I am a little sore over it."

And the interview ended, though Gilbert gave heed to the counsel. His weakness did not extend beyond a certain love of admiration; so he was not impervious to reason, but was strong enough to see that Miss Nelson could have no motive beyond helping him to escape a misfortune, as he began to think it really might be. And when Archie and Jack took their leave, Gilbert went too. Fly Crawford lost no time in turning her attention in a new direction, and that was the end of that matter.

After Archie and Jack departed, Theo seemed given to many brown studies, and to Val's plans for the coming winter appeared to enter with little heartiness. The cause of this was made apparent as the first of September approached, for Nannie Talcott wrote enthusiastically from New York, begging Theo to join her there.

"I have taken a room, and am going to study at the League," she announced; "could you not come on for a little while, anyhow?"

Theo did not look up as she read, for she knew there would be disfavor in her aunt's face.

"It is not to be thought of," said Miss Nelson, as Theo closed the letter. "Two girls there alone! I could not consent, Theo."

"But Archie is there."

"True; still, you would be alone all day. You want to go very much, don't you, dear?"

"Oh, I do, I do," replied Theo. "Nan and I have been talking of it for a year; and I could study music. And, oh, auntie, I should be near Archie."

"And Jack," put in Val, craftily.

"That would be sufficient reason for my remaining here," replied Theo, caustically.

"Mean girl!" exclaimed Val. "The idea of your wanting to leave auntie and me. You love Nannie better than anybody, I do believe."

Theo looked distressed.

"That isn't quite fair, Val," reproved auntie. "I understand how Theo feels. This is a very narrow field for her energies. She loves her home beyond anything,—that I know. But Nannie's plan is full of delightful possibilities; and if there were some older person to be with them, I should be inclined to think it a good thing. I trust my girls entirely, but I am not quite sure into what their inexperience might lead them. Let the question rest for a time, Theo, and I will think over all the pros and cons."

The result of Miss Nelson's cogitations was that a most attractive plan was unfolded to the delighted girls. It was nothing more nor less than that they should all go to New York, Val taking up her studies there, and Miss Nelson still overlooking them all.

"How perfectly, perfectly delightful!" cried Theo. "Oh, how pleased the boys will be!"

"And the Colonel," cried Val, "the dear old Colonel. Oh, Theo, I believe he will dance for joy."

The idea of the dignified Mr. Smith dancing for joy was too much for Theo, and she laughed heartily.

"I have counted the cost," Miss Janet informed them, "and I think we can manage very comfortably. I have an opportunity of renting the house furnished. I think that is what decided me; it seemed to answer the question. Mrs. Lewis has decided to give up boarding, and as there are only herself and her husband in the family, no one could be more desirable. I think, too, it will do me good to be shaken up a little. I am getting too well satisfied to sit down in the chimney-corner. I need a fresh infusion of spirit to keep me young."

"You darling, blessed auntie, you are always just right," exclaimed Theo; "and it is the most delicious plan I ever heard of. When can we go?"

"I propose that you go as soon as you can get ready, and I will follow with Val. I am not afraid but what you can get along for a week or two, and Nannie is so eager to have you. So you will have a little chance to try that 'unhampered existence' Nannie is so fond of expatiating upon; and it will also give you a chance of being glad to see me."

"As if I ever needed that!" reproached Theo. "Then you know Archie is right at hand, and I couldn't do anything very much out of the way," she added.

The idea of Theo's doing anything out of the way amused Val. "We shall have such larks, Theo," she exclaimed, "when I get there."

"Don't be too sure," interposed Miss Janet. "I shall have an eye on you; and you are not going just for fun, Miss Val; you are going for hard study. Mr. Smith quite approves of your finishing your studies at another school, and I want Theo to take up some other special work. What shall it be, Theo?"

"Oh, French or German. French, I think. I do so want to go on with that. We can all study together, maybe. I know Nannie will be glad to, and we can have a nice little class."

"Isn't it strange," remarked Val, "how it is the unexpected that always happens? Who could have dreamed that we all—the whole kit and crew of us—would up and start for New York? What shall you do, auntie, about Mammy and Eldorado Ann and Ishmael?"

"They can stay right here. Mrs. Lewis is only too glad to have that question settled; and she is devoted to cats, so Ishmael will fare well. We have nothing to do but to pack up and start. But, dear me! It is an undertaking for me, after all." And Miss Nelson looked around, as if half regretting her decision.

"Oh, no," expostulated Theo; "it will give you something pleasant to think about, auntie, and it will do you a world of good. You have not been away from home for years. I think it is going to be as well for you as for any of the rest of us."

For the next two weeks there was much consulting with dressmakers, many trips to the dry-goods shops, and the girls were absorbed in the topic of clothes.

"One would suppose we were the dressiest creatures in the world," said Theo, as she made the sewing-machine fly.

"And that there were no shops at all in New York," laughed Val. "Why do you suppose we are going to all this trouble?"

"Oh, so as not have to bother when we get there. We want to look halfway respectable, though no doubt we shall feel very 'meechin' when we get on Fifth Avenue," replied Theo. "Val, how do you want this trimming put on?"

"'I am not choicy,' as Mammy says."

"So?" inquired Theo. "That is more youthful?"

"Youthful!"

"Yes, old 'Miss Le Moyne,' youthful."

Val sniffed; but she gave her consent, and the sewing went on.