IV
AN ACCIDENT
For some days, however, the “Faery Queen” rested undisturbed on the table in Brenda’s room, as all at once she found herself plunging into a round of gayety. First of all came an invitation from Edith for a few days at Manchester, and during her stay she was invited to a luncheon party that was decidedly in the order of a grown-up affair, and Edith herself gave a small afternoon tea, and among her guests were some of the older girls who were already out. Then, on her return from Edith’s, Brenda found a note from Nora, accepting her invitation to visit, and saying that she would arrive on Thursday afternoon.
As it was Wednesday when the note arrived, this might have seemed very short notice had it not been understood before the girls left town that Nora was to come to Brenda the last week in June. Moreover, on looking at the note, Brenda saw that it was dated two or three days earlier than the postmark, and she judged correctly that some one had been carrying it about carelessly for a day or two. Julia was still in Cambridge when Nora arrived. “Poor thing!” cried Nora, as Brenda ran upstairs with her to show her her room,—“Poor thing! studying and taking examinations this hot weather. Do you know, I think that that is what prevents my going to College! If I could only get in without examinations, or if they would have them in December instead of June.”
“At Christmas time! why, Nora, just think how it would interfere with everything!”
“Well, it would n’t interfere with any of your doings, Brenda Barlow, as you are not intending to go to College.”
“Ah, you would n’t like it yourself, Nora,” and thus the girls talked over all the happenings of the past month. For although it was little more than four weeks since they had last seen each other, they both said that it had seemed “a perfect age,” and they chattered so fast that it was indeed a wonder that either one of them could understand what was said.
“Still it’s only a month, or a little more than a month, since the Shiloh picnic,” said Norah, as they sat there talking.
“Well, it seems ever so much longer. I wish that we could have a picnic down here. We must plan lots of things while you stay. There has n’t been much going on this month, because people have been later than usual coming down; but by the Fourth every one will be here. Cousin Edward will be sure to take us out on his yacht. I told you about the Seventeenth, did n’t I—in my letter?”
“Oh, yes; it must have been great fun.”
“Ah, here’s a note from Frances!” exclaimed Brenda, as the two girls passed on into her room. She took up the square, blue envelope with its splashing writing, and turned it over in her hand, after the fashion of girls before opening. “I wonder what she’s writing about!”
Then, as she opened and read the note, “There, she wants us to come over to-morrow and spend the day. She says that Edith is coming up from Beverly, and she wrote her that you would be with me. Would you like to go?”
“Why, yes,” said Nora; “although I won’t pretend that I am crazy to see Frances.”
“Belle is staying with her,” added Brenda, as she read the note to its close.
“Don’t you suppose that that is why she asks you to come now. She knows that Julia is not here, and of course she would rather not ask her.”
“I dare say. They certainly are not calculated to get on very well together.”
“Oh, Julia could get on with any one, although I don’t really suppose that she cares much for Belle. She has always been very careful what she says in speaking about her. I wish that I were as prudent, but I generally speak out before I think.”
Now it was really a step forward for Brenda to admit that she would like to resemble any one else, and Nora, observing this change in her, wisely did not call her friend’s attention to the fact that she had observed it. She was never quite sure when Brenda’s contrary spirit might break forth, and she felt that she would like the new Brenda to remain as she was for a time.
“You don’t object to spending the day with Frances while Belle is there, do you?” continued Brenda.
“Why, of course not. I like Frances and Belle very well at times. I did not really like the way Belle behaved last winter, and I don’t believe that I ’ll ever be as intimate with her again. You see, Julia and Ruth have come to take her place, to a great extent. But I am sure that we can have a very jolly day at Nahant.”
Now the real state of things the past winter had been this: Brenda’s cousin Julia had come to Boston after the death of her father, to live with Brenda’s parents,—her uncle and aunt.
As the two girls were near of an age, Mr. and Mrs. Barlow had expected them to be very congenial; but, to their surprise, Brenda was much less courteous toward her cousin than they had expected her to be. She was unwilling to admit Julia to the charmed circle of “The Four,” which was made up of Nora, Edith, Belle, and herself. While she might have been unwilling to admit that she was jealous, she assumed that Julia felt a superiority to her that her year and a half of seniority did not warrant. When she learned that Julia intended to go to College she became ridiculously angry. No girl of her set had ever gone to College, and Brenda, like many other girls of fifteen, objected to having any one in her own family depart from the ordinary routine. Belle, who was inclined to flatter Brenda, had by no means tried to lessen her jealousy of Julia. In fact, she was willing to pity Brenda and sympathize with her a little, thinking in that way to make herself more important. While there was nothing resembling a quarrel between the girls, the unfriendliness reached its height at the time of a Bazaar, given by “The Four,” for the benefit of the Rosas, a family of poor Portuguese in whom the girls had become interested. Although Julia had realized that she was left out when “The Four” were most deeply engaged in making their plans for the Bazaar, she showed no resentment. On the contrary, she did her part in helping when the Bazaar actually came off, and a little later, when Brenda got herself into difficulties, by a very foolish act, she came nobly to the rescue of her cousin. For this Brenda had been duly grateful, and the relation between the two girls was now most cousinly and cordial. Yet in the space of a few months a complete change of disposition is hardly to be looked for in even the best intentioned girl of fifteen. Brenda, therefore, although she now was fond of Julia, for some time was likely to be wilful, headstrong, and more or less selfish.
It was certainly the old Brenda who sat at the table at dinner that evening of Nora’s arrival with a frown,—a decided frown on her pretty face.
“I must say that I can’t see the least reason why we should n’t go over to Nahant to-morrow.”
“Brenda,” responded her mother, “I did not say that you could n’t go, but merely that you couldn’t drive over.”
“Now that’s very different,” and Nora’s bright voice was a pleasant contrast to Brenda’s fretful tone. “There’s no reason, is there, Mrs. Barlow, why we should n’t go down in the train to Lynn, and meet Edith there? ”
“Oh, no; but I should n’t care to have you go over in the omnibus to Nahant.”
“Oh, but it would be such fun.”
“Yes, but I think that a carriage would be better. I could telephone to have one meet you at the station.”
“But just suppose Edith expects to go in the omnibus,—could n’t we go with her ? ”
“Well, I will leave it all to Edith. That is, you may do as she does. Possibly Frances has arranged it all with her.”
The next morning, accordingly, Brenda and Nora found themselves on the train bound for Lynn. It was a crowded local train, and they had some trouble in getting a seat. But they rather enjoyed the rush and flurry, and the novelty (at least to Brenda) of travelling alone. Nora was more accustomed to journeying by herself, and had even gone once from Boston to Intervale unaccompanied. She was therefore a good traveller, and had her ticket ready for the conductor, and rescued Brenda’s from the floor, where the careless girl had dropped it. The two friends laughed and chatted, and were almost sorry that the journey was to be so short, when suddenly the engine gave those two sharp whistles which are always alarming, and many passengers jumped to their feet. Brenda clutched Nora’s arm excitedly, for the train seemed to be slowing up. Nora, whose seat was near the window, looked out and saw a young woman standing at the side of he track, and waving her arms frantically.
The train had drawn up near a little station, and some of the men, as well as the conductor and brakemen, went out to see what the trouble was. In the mean time, the passengers began to speculate as to the trouble, and they all talked freely with one another in rather loud tones. There seemed to be no doubt but that some one had been run over; and when a question was put to the conductor on his return his grave nod confirmed this opinion.
“Oh, dear!” cried Brenda, “do you suppose that they ’ll bring it in here? I wish that we were n’t in the first car.”
“No, indeed,” replied Nora; “even if the person is killed—he said a girl, did n’t he,—well, she would n’t be brought in here. You see we ’re near a station, and, anyway, with so many houses near, they would n’t bring the—the person into the car.”
Brenda seemed decidedly relieved by this statement.
“You ’re a great comfort, Nora; you are almost as calm as Julia would be. She never loses her head.”
“I hope that the lady who met with the accident has n’t lost hers,” said Nora, a little frivolously.
“Nora, how can you be so heartless? when I was just complimenting you for being so sensible.”
“Well, it may sound more heartless than it is. I asked the brakeman just now if any one had been killed, and he said, ‘No!’ He explained that it was only a foolish girl who had tried to run across the track in front of the engine, and had got caught in the cow-catcher or something like that. He said she was more frightened than hurt.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
“Oh, they have to get statements from witnesses, and all that kind of thing. See, they are carrying her into the station.”
Brenda, looking over Nora’s shoulder, saw four men carrying something into the waiting-room. They caught a glimpse of light skirts, and saw a flower-trimmed hat hanging from the arm of one of the men.
“Just think how dreadful if she had been killed! I do hope that it is n’t any worse than the brakeman said.”
One of the passengers who had gone to the scene of the accident now came back and reported that the girl was merely bruised and shaken up, and that she would soon come to herself. It was her sister whom Nora had seen standing excitedly beside the track. She had got across safely, and at first glance had feared that the other one was killed.
“Well, I should think that we might start on now,” said Brenda, allowing impatience to get the upper hand, now that she was satisfied as to the nature of the accident.
“Just think how cross Edith will be, waiting for us all this time. We ought to have been in Lynn an hour ago.” Brenda looked at the watch which she wore on her arm in a bracelet which her cousin Julia had given her the Christmas before.
“Oh, we ’re sure to start soon,” said Nora, soothingly; and just as she spoke there entered the car a young girl whom the two friends immediately recognized.
“Why, Angelina,” they exclaimed, “what in the world are you doing here?” That is, Brenda made the exclamation, and Nora echoed it.
The young Portuguese girl (for it was certainly Manuel’s sister) smiled pleasantly at the two girls, but she showed no surprise. It was rather a principle of hers never to seem surprised.
“Such a narrow escape!” she said, plaintively; “why, I’m trembling now just like a leaf.”
The girls looked at her in astonishment. “It was n’t you, was it, who had the accident?” asked Nora.
“Not exactly,” she replied, “although I feel about the same as if I was. You see, I saw it all.”
“Well, the girl is n’t killed, is she?”
“No, no, I think not,” replied Angelina, slowly. “But dear me, it was terrible. She looked as if she was being drawn right under the engine. I don’t see why she was n’t cut in ten-inch pieces.” And Angelina seemed fairly to gloat over the possibility of the horror.
“Oh, but they say that she was hardly bruised, only shaken up and frightened. I hope that that will be a warning to you, Angelina, not to loiter near the tracks. How do you happen to be here, so far from Shiloh?” Nora spoke as severely as she could, for she really could not understand why Angelina should be so far from home.
“Well, you see. Miss Gostar, it’s very hard for me to get used to Shiloh. It’s so quiet there, so different from the North End.”
“But I should think that you could find a great deal to do helping your mother, enough, surely, to keep you busy.”
“Yes, ’m; the fact is, I ’ve been almost too busy, so I thought that before the boarders came down where I’m going to work at Mrs. Sholl’s, I’d make a visit at a girl’s in Lynn. She used to go to my church, and she is coming back to visit me at Shiloh. ”
“The Rosas are getting up in the world, to have planned for visitors before they are well settled in Shiloh,” thought Brenda. Even if Angelina had been able to read her thoughts, her self-complacency might not have been disturbed.
“Are you going back to Lynn on this train?” asked Brenda.
“Well, I had n’t thought of it. I walked down to do an errand for a Mrs. Jims—the lady I’m visiting—it’s only a mile or two. When I heard the whistle I thought I’d watch the train come in. I didn’t know there was an accident until I got close up. It is n’t often I have such luck,—to see a real accident, and meet two friends. It would have been very exciting if that girl had been killed.”
Her tone was almost one of regret that the accident hadn’t ended in something worse than a mere shaking up of the venturesome girl.
“If you have done your errand, we will invite you to ride back to Lynn with us.”
“Oh, thank you,” cried Angelina; “I can go as well as not. It is always so much pleasanter to have company.”
The conductor and brakeman now reappeared, the passengers took their seats, and in a very short time the train drew away from the little station. It was only three or four minutes before they reached the larger station at Lynn. But as Angelina made good use of the time, they were able to learn that her mother did n’t cough as much as when they lived in the city, that the boys thought it great fun to work in the garden, that Manuel had had his hair cut very short, and that they had broken only two cups and one plate of the new dishes. Angelina, herself, according to her own report, was the only one of the family at all discontented with Shiloh, and she condescended to say that she thought she would like it better after the summer boarders arrived. She also promised to go back to her mother the very next day, as both Brenda and Nora said that they were sure that she was needed at home. Angelina probably realized that it was very necessary for her and for the family to have the good will of “the young ladies,” as they called “The Four,” and the other Bazaar helpers, and she felt flattered that they considered her presence so necessary to her mother’s comfort at home. She had a fairly well-developed bump of self-esteem.