Part 11 (2/2)
”Don't cry, dear. It is all over, then, and we will forget it.” Miss Virginia caressed the brown head.
”But I am so ashamed. It hurts--I can't forget.”
”Well, dear, perhaps you had some excuse. Caroline overlooked the fact that you have lived an unusually independent life, and I think she did not just understand how you felt about Lucile. I don't mean you were right to go there, but-- Well, from now on you are my charge, and the punishment is over. After this we'll try to understand and trust each other.”
”I am going to be good; you'll see,” Charlotte whispered, her arms about her aunt's neck.
She felt impatient to show Aunt Virginia she was really in earnest.
What could she do? As she dressed for the evening an idea occurred to her. With many a pang she shook out her wavy brown hair and combed it resolutely back from her face. It had always taken an absurd length of time to arrange that drooping ma.s.s in just the proper manner, but Lucile had commended her skill. It was much easier to brush it back in a way to show how prettily it grew about her forehead, but Charlotte really considered herself a fright as she tied a blue ribbon on her long braid.
The change gave her rather a chastened look, combined as it was with a timid self-consciousness when she entered the dining-room. Her aunts surveyed her with evident astonishment.
”Well, Charlotte,” Mrs. Millard remarked, affably, ”you are really a nice-looking little girl when you let yourself alone.”
Aunt Virginia patted her hand and said nothing, but Charlotte felt sure she understood.
CHAPTER FOURTEENTH
MRS. MILLARD DEPARTS
Relieved and thankful though Miss Virginia felt, and confident, too, that she and Charlotte would now get on very well together, she still had something on her mind. The feeling that she was concealing something from her sister weighed upon her, but not so heavily as her sense of obligation to the shopkeepers. In her agitation she had hardly thanked Miss Pennington; and the more she considered it, the more remarkable their kindness and thoughtfulness appeared. Would Caroline call it officiousness?
Mrs. Millard had gone so far as to acknowledge the shopkeepers _seemed_ to be persons of refinement, and their effort to make a living was, of course, creditable; but she feared they did not quite know their position. Perhaps they were from some small town, where social distinctions were overlooked.
”Perhaps they are well born, but have lost their money and have to do something,” Miss Virginia suggested, thinking that the manners of the young women in question were not in the least rustic.
Ignoring this her sister continued: ”It is quite evident to my mind that they are pus.h.i.+ng. Why else should they have come into a neighborhood like this, instead of going where they belong, among other shops? They evidently hope for some social recognition, and this is why I lay stress upon not giving them our patronage in any respect.
I see plainly they will leave no stone unturned to ingratiate themselves.”
Did this account for Charlotte's rescue? Miss Virginia s.h.i.+vered at the thought. It had seemed to her the extreme of neighborly kindness. One thing was certain,--Miss Carpenter had not invented the occasion. Had she seized it in the hope of advancing her own interests? Miss Virginia felt this was silly.
How friendly and helpful Miss Pennington had seemed! Could a commonplace, pus.h.i.+ng young woman have so won Miss Virginia's heart?
She lay awake at night thinking about it, wondering how she could suitably express her grat.i.tude and at the same time preserve a distant dignity. In the silence and darkness all sorts of dreadful possibilities floated through her mind. Perhaps these harmless-looking young women were adventuresses, come into the neighborhood with some deep scheme, and the attractive shop as a blind. They might be burglars. One read of astonis.h.i.+ng things done by women in these days.
Miss Virginia felt impatient over this new problem, and her irritation caused a display of unusual spirit when her sister began to give her parting instructions.
”You'd better send the drawing-room curtains to Lucinda in January,”
said that lady, thoughtfully, balancing her pencil above the pad on her knee. ”I have made a list--”
”It is quite unnecessary, Caroline,” interrupted Miss Virginia; ”I kept house for a good many years without you, and you can't expect to run things here while you are in California.”
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