Part 19 (1/2)

”I like doing things like this,” said Frieda suddenly, as she came to the doorway, and shook her duster energetically. ”Do you remember the time we got our own supper in Berlin, Hannah?”

”Indeed I do,” said Hannah heartily, leaning on her broom. ”You look awfully pretty this morning, Frieda, in that plaid gingham. Are you going off with Polly, as usual? I don't see you at all, it seems to me.”

”You have Catherine,” answered Frieda. ”Polly is learning German.”

”And you are learning English. I can see that you have improved a lot this week. But you are getting pretty slangy. It would be better for you to learn from Catherine than from Polly.”

Frieda shook her head firmly. ”I am in awe of Catherine,” she announced, ”and with you I feel weary talking English, for I know you can talk German. But Polly cannot do any other, and I must talk with her. She is delightsome.”

”So is Catherine,” said Hannah, looking at Frieda wistfully. It was a worry to her that these two who were to be together all the next year should be so slow in getting acquainted. ”One is obstinate and the other is shy, and I don't know when they will get over it,” she sighed to herself, as Frieda, seeing Catherine come up the walk, disappeared into the house.

Catherine was breathless with her quick climb and her many parcels. She dropped into a chair on the porch, and took off her hat to fan herself.

”There is the funniest woman on the street,” she said. ”I know she is an agent, and I suppose she'll be here soon; but I've got to sh.e.l.l these peas and I want to do it out here, so I shan't run from her. Won't you bring out some pans for the peas when you take your broom in, Hannah?

I'm too weary to move.”

Hannah, on her way after pans, persuaded Frieda to come out and help sh.e.l.l peas, and all three were soon busily at work.

Suddenly Catherine snapped a pea at Hannah to attract her attention.

”My agent!” she whispered, as a woman in a loose flowing gown marched toward them.

She mounted the steps and, stooping over Catherine, snapped something around her neck.

”There!” she said, straightening herself. ”That will never come off.”

All three girls gasped. Catherine clutched at the offending article and the peas rolled in all directions.

”It's a collar,” said the woman triumphantly. ”You can wear it forever.

Just put a fresh ribbon over it now and then, and you're always dressed.

Only fifteen cents. I'll try one on you, Miss--” and before Hannah could utter a protest she was caught in the celluloid trap as Catherine had been. Speechless they faced each other. With a little gasp Frieda slipped over the porch railing and disappeared around the corner of the house. Hotspur came bounding after her and she patted him, and hugged him and laughed and laughed.

”A collar just like yours, Hotspur dear,” she told him in German. ”And it will never come off! Catherine, the Saint, the Perfect, the Inviolate, sitting there looking like a--in English, like an idiom! O, Hotspur, dear, it has done me good. I have wished I could want to laugh at her. Now I shan't be so afraid of her ever again. Come! we must go.

It's time for our row.” And Frieda danced off across a little wood path which was a short-cut to the boat-house.

Polly was waiting, and in a very few minutes the ”Minnehaha” was launched. It was a beautiful day, the river rippling with waves and twinkling with reflections of trees, but the ardent oarswomen saw neither the beauty surrounding them nor the black clouds threatening.

They were practising for a race. Neither spoke. They pulled with long steady strokes in perfect time. Suddenly Frieda's oar flopped and ”caught a crab.” The bow at the same moment struck the bank, and a great scrambling tearing sound followed. In a fright the girls huddled together in the bottom of the boat, not daring to look up.

”O, pshaw! It's only a cow, more afraid than we were. She made all that noise just tearing up the bank.”

”I thought it was an earthshake,” sighed Frieda, leaning back and resting. ”That was one hundred strokes without missing. I didn't know the bank was so near.”

”Neither did I. That's the trouble with us, Frieda. We get so interested in rowing that we forget to steer.”

”We steered into a steer that time.”

”O, Frieda! You ought not to be allowed to make jokes in English, you make such bad ones.”

Frieda smiled cheerfully. ”Ten days ago I thought I should never make a joke in any language, or laugh at one again. I was very sorrowful when I came here, Polly.”