Part 14 (1/2)
”But you are going to Winsted and Catherine. Don't forget that. And I shall be at Brookmeadow still when you come home. Hannah, Hannah, haven't you learned yet that one can't have everything that is delightful all at once?”
”I suppose you mean about sorrows making you appreciate blessings and so on,” pouted Hannah. ”But I don't believe it. I know I could be happy all the time, if I could have all the things I want just when I want them!”
Miss Lyndesay did not smile. ”Perhaps you could!” she said slowly. ”You will never have a chance to prove it. It's not within the limits of possibility. But I had an idea, Hannah, that you were one of the people who could manage pretty well to be happy with things as they came.”
Hannah flushed and buried her face on Miss Lyndesay's shoulder. Frieda looked restless.
”_Bitte, sprechen Sie mal Deutsch_,” she said suddenly. ”_Es tut mir furchtbar weh, immer Englisch zu h.o.r.en!_”
Quick as a flash Hannah's head came up, and she laughed a delicious laugh. ”Poor Frieda,” she said in German, ”does it hurt you awfully to hear English all the time? There! There! I know how you feel. Did you talk German to her coming over, Miss Lyndesay?”
Miss Lyndesay looked guilty. ”I'm afraid I did. You see, it was such a fine opportunity for me to practise, and I didn't want her to be homesick, as well as--”
”I was not seasick,” declared Frieda stoutly, and both the others laughed.
”I have crossed the seas full many times,” said Clara Lyndesay smiling, ”but never have I known any one who was seasick! But to change the subject, it's almost time for Karl to be back to take you to the train, children; and Frieda has a spot on her coat which I can remove if you will open my suitcase, Hannah, and bring me the little bottle of benzine in the left-hand corner. Mrs. Eldred must not think I have brought her an untidy little _Madchen_!”
They spent a cozy half hour chatting in German or English, as the spirit or their respective inabilities moved them, and when Karl arrived to escort them to the station, they were in a blithe mood, which even the ordeal of parting from Miss Lyndesay did not shake.
”You are coming very soon to visit me,” she said, as she kissed them good-by, ”and you are both to be good until then, and not belligerent.
Remember you are children no longer.”
”Aren't you a child any longer, Frieda?” asked Hannah with interest, as they entered the carriage.
”Indeed, I am not. Did you not see that I make no more _Knixes_?”
”That's so. Isn't it fun not to? Don't you ever forget?”
”Only once. When I met Miss Lyndesay in the churchyard,” said Frieda, dwelling on the memory.
”No wonder!” said Karl. ”I would salaam before her, myself.”
”So would I!” agreed Hannah. ”But Frieda, then, if you are no longer a child, at last you have a will?”
Frieda nodded her head emphatically.
”Now,” she said, ”I have a will.”
And Karl, looking into her st.u.r.dy face, into the eyes which he had sometimes seen dancing with mischief, sometimes flas.h.i.+ng anger, and sometimes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with sorrow, murmured a prayer under his breath, for gracious guidance for that new-claimed ”will.”
CHAPTER TEN
THE MAKING OF A COMPACT
At the end of the short railway journey, Mr. Eldred met the girls and conducted them to the house where Mrs. Eldred waited with a heart-warming welcome for her little guest.
It was a pretty home and Frieda felt the charm of it instantly as she went up stairs with Hannah to the little square room which she was to occupy. At the same time, however, she felt strange and out of place.
She was conscious of a contrast between her own hat and Hannah's, between her heavy wool dress and Hannah's blue linen suit, between her strong, serviceable--and ugly--shoes, and Hannah's pumps, also strong and serviceable, but far from ugly. The six pieces of hand luggage and the queer steamer trunk, when deposited in the center of the little room, with its crisp ruffled curtains, and its plain mahogany furniture, disturbed the harmony that had reigned before from the etching over the bed to the bowl of ferns on the table. Hannah was friendly and beaming, and not at all belligerent. Mrs. Eldred was all sweet, cheery thoughtfulness, but Frieda looking at herself in the oval mirror of the dressing-table, felt a sudden throb of pity for the girl she saw there.