Part 28 (1/2)

”Then, Barbara--”

Then Mrs. Holabird walked away again.

The next day--_that_ day, after our eleven o'clock breakfast--Harry came back, and was at Westover all day long.

Barbara got up into mother's room at evening, alone with her. She brought a cricket, and came and sat down beside her, and put her cheek upon her knee.

”Mother,” she said, softly, ”I don't see but you'll have to get me ready, and let me go.”

”My dear child! When? What do you mean?”

”Right off. Harry is under orders, you know. And they may hardly ever be so nice again. And--if we _are_ going through the world together--mightn't we as well begin to go?”

”Why, Barbara, you take my breath away! But then you always do! What is it?”

”It's the Katahdin, fitting out at New York to join the European squadron. Commander Shapleigh is a great friend of Harry's; his wife and daughter are in New York, going out, by Southampton steamer, when the frigate leaves, to meet him there. They would take me, he says; and--that's what Harry wants, mother. There'll be a little while first,--as much, perhaps, as we should ever have.”

”Barbara, my darling! But you've nothing ready!”

”No, I suppose not. I never do have. Everything is an emergency with me; but I always emerge! I can get things in London,” she added.

”Everybody does.”

The end of it was that Mrs. Holabird had to catch her breath again, as mothers do; and that Barbara is getting ready to be married just as she does everything else.

Rose has some nice things--laid away, new; she always has; and mother has unsuspected treasures; and we all had new silk dresses for Leslie's wedding, and Ruth had a bright idea about that.

”I'm as tall as either of you, now,” she said; ”and we girls are all of a size, as near as can be, mother and all; and we'll just wear the dresses once more, you see, and then put them right into Barbara's trunk. They'll be all the bonnier and luckier for her, I know. We can get others any time.”

We laughed at her at first; but we came round afterward to think that it was a good plan. Rosamond's silk was a lovely violet, and Ruth's was blue; Barbara's own was pearly gray; we were glad, now, that no two of us had dressed alike. The violet and the gray had been chosen because of our having worn quiet black-and-white all summer for grandfather. We had never worn c.r.a.pe; or what is called ”deep”

mourning. ”You shall never do that,” said mother, ”till the deep mourning comes. Then you will choose for yourselves.”

We have had more time than we expected. There has been some beautiful delay or other about machinery,--the Katahdin's, that is; and Commander Shapleigh has been ever so kind. Harry has been back and forth to New York two or three times. Once he took Stephen with him; Steve stayed at Uncle John's; but he was down at the yard, and on board s.h.i.+ps, and got acquainted with some mids.h.i.+pmen; and he has quite made up his mind to try to get in at the Naval Academy as soon as he is old enough, and to be a navy officer himself.

We are comfortable at home; not hurried after all. We are determined not to be; last days are too precious,

”Don't let's be all taken up with 'things,'” says Barbara. ”I can _buy_ 'things' any time. But now,--I want you!”

Aunt Roderick's present helped wonderfully. It was magnanimous of her; it was coals of fire. We should have believed she was inspired,--or possessed,--but that Ruth went down to Boston with her.

There came home, in a box, two days after, from Jordan and Marsh's, the loveliest ”suit,” all made and finished, of brown poplin. To think of Aunt Roderick's getting anything _made_, at an ”establishment”! But Ruth says she put her principles into her unpickable pocket, and just took her porte-monnaie in her hand.

Bracelets and pocket-handkerchiefs have come from New York; all the ”girls” here in Westover have given presents of ornaments, or little things to wear; they know there is no housekeeping to provide for.