Part 17 (1/2)
”I don't remember; one o' yer highfalutin sort o' names. But you jest come and see it;” and he led the way into the ”gentleman's room,” and pointed to a large box standing in the corner.
Marion walked up to it, and glancing at the address exclaimed: ”Why, it is for me!”
”Wall, neow du tell!” exclaimed the station-master; ”neow I call that quite a coincydance, I du!”
”Well, I call it a very nice box,” laughed Marion; ”and there comes a man I've engaged to do a job for me, and he can take it in his wagon, and leave it at the school.”
”You're a smart un, I tell you,” remarked the man as he lifted the box and carried it to the door; ”you know how to do the bisness, an' no mistake.”
Before Marion could reply, or take any notice of his remark, the whistle of an engine was heard, and as she went out on to the platform the train whizzed up and stopped If it had not have been for her mother's preparation, she would never have recognized in the thin, subdued, pale young woman who stepped from the cars, the bright, rosy country girl she had seen so many times at Aunt Bettie's.
She welcomed Jemima most cordially, making no allusions that could embarra.s.s the poor girl, and rattled on a string of good-natured nothings, as she delivered the little hair trunk into the hands of her charioteer, and then placed Jemima on the back seat.
”Aint you goin', miss?” asked the driver.
”Oh, no! I prefer to walk. Good-by, Jemima. Give my love to your mother, and tell her I wish her a happy thanksgiving.”
Jemima grasped the hand Marion held out to her, and exclaimed under her breath, just loud enough for Marion to catch the words, ”G.o.d bless you, miss!” It was the first time she had spoken since she arrived; but I think Marion was satisfied.
As Marion turned away from the wagon, her eyes fell upon the station-master, who, with his legs planted at a most respectful distance from each other, his hands still in the depths of his pockets, and his head c.o.c.ked on one side, had been watching all the proceedings with the deepest interest. As she pa.s.sed him he nodded his head slowly three times in the most serious manner, and remarked, with even more than his former emphasis, ”You're a smart un!”
CHAPTER XIV.
MARION'S THANKSGIVING PARTY.
”Where have you been?” exclaimed half-a-dozen girls as Marion entered the gate; ”here's a splendid great box just come for you.”
”And who do you think was with the man that brought it?” asked one.
”Why, Mimy Dobbs, as sure as you're born; you know she's been away ever so long, and the cook told me people thought she'd run away, and was never coming back at all, because she hated living with her mother up at that poky old farm.”
”Stuff and nonsense!” exclaimed Marion. ”I advise cook to pay more attention to our dinners, and let other people's affairs alone. But that is a box worth having, if the inside prove as good as the out. Come, lend a hand, girls, and help me carry it upstairs, for if Miss Stiffy sees it I shall have to open it down here, and she'll _advise_ me to put most of the things in the larder, and that won't suit me at all.”
”Hus.h.!.+” said Florence, as she took hold of one of the rope-handles with which the box was provided; ”don't make a noise. Miss Stiefbach is in the secret-chamber; she pa.s.sed through here a minute ago, and we girls all hustled round the box, and covered it up with our skirts; for it's such a bouncer we knew she'd make a fuss about it.”
”Come, ready now! You go first, and don't step on the back of your dress and stumble,” whispered Marion. ”Isn't it heavy though? Sarah Brown, do put your hands under, and give it a boost;--softly now!”
Amid considerable pulling and tugging, accompanied with half-suppressed screams, as the corners of the box came in dangerous proximity to the wall, the two girls managed to get as far as the bend in the stairs, when, alas! notwithstanding Marion's warning, Florence made a misstep, and trod on her dress, which threw her violently back on to the stairs, bringing the box down with full force upon one of her feet.
”Oh, it's half killing me! it's half killing me! take it up quick, or I shall scream right out!” exclaimed the poor girl, in low but agonized tones, which ought to have roused the sympathies of the hardest heart; but Marion and Sarah, notwithstanding they pitied Florence from the bottom of their hearts, were so full of laughter that, although they exerted to the utmost the little strength they had left, they could not move the box an inch.
Poor Florence writhed and moaned in perfect torture, and not being a saint, but a very human girl, exclaimed, in tones of unmistakable anger, ”I wish the old box was where it came from. If you don't stop laughing, and take it off my foot I'll yell at the top of my lungs!”
Happily for all parties, Grace Minton and Julia Thayer, who had been watching them from below, sprang up the stairs, and, lifting the box, carried it into Marion's room.
Florence could hardly move, and now that their laughter had subsided, Marion and Sarah helped her up to her room, making up by their devotion for their apparent thoughtlessness.
”Oh, do be careful, Mab; it's almost killing me!” cried Florence, as she sat down on the edge of the bed, and Marion proceeded to take off her boot. ”Oh! oh! just wait one minute till I brace myself,--there! Now give one awful pull, and have it over with.”
Marion did as she was told; the boot came off, but poor Florence, notwithstanding she shut her teeth tight, and clenched the coverlid with both hands, could not suppress a groan as she threw herself back on the bed.