A Little Country Girl Read online

  CHAPTER V.

  DOWN TO BEAVER TAIL.

  SUNDAY morning brought the fresh, lovely stillness which Sundays inearly summer seem always to possess in Newport. Later in the season theroll of wheels and the jingle of plated harnesses come to mar thispeacefulness; but till the very end of June it endures, and is one ofthe sweet things of the place.

  The Joys were at breakfast. It was one of the points in which Mrs. Joytook most pride, that this meal was served in a special apartment knownas the breakfast-room, and not, as with most families, in the room wherethey dined. The breakfast-room was not large, but sumptuous in all itsappointments. A critical taste might have objected that the plushcurtains which shaded the windows were too heavy for summer; that thebegilded wallpaper "swore" a little at its own dado and frieze, as wellas deadened the effect of the pictures which hung against it; and thatthe drapery of lace and velvet which veiled the fireplace made a fireinconvenient and almost impossible, however cold the weather might be.But a critical taste might have found the same faults with the wholehouse. The general effect was of costliness and magnificence; but thedetails were at variance, and comfort and homelikeness had beensacrificed in the effort to make everything fine. There was a library,with almost no books in it; a ball-room, which was used only for balls,and looked bare and shut up on ordinary days; a huge drawing-room, fullof costly toys,--tables loaded with Sevres cups, other tables withprocessions of pug-dogs in precious china, snuff-boxes, patch-boxes;chimney-piece crowded with porcelain figures and bits of old Dresdenware; there was a great deal of carving and _or-moulu_,--but it all hadthe air of being created and kept for company use, and deserted themoment company went away. Mrs. Joy had only got so far in her arteducation as this, that she bought everything which cost a great deal ofmoney and which her neighbors bought, and she never stopped to reasonabout such minor points as taste, fitness, convenience, or theadaptation of an article to her own particular needs.

  Mrs. Joy was the very image of a prosperous woman, as she sat behind herheavy silver coffee-pots and cream-jugs, reading the Sunday paper, toget which her groom had ridden a couple of miles before breakfast. Hervery black hair was trained into a line of formal rings across herforehead, which as yet scarcely showed a wrinkle. Her tightly lacedfigure was almost as slender as her daughter's; and the hand sparklingwith diamonds, which held the paper, was white and youthful. Handsomeshe certainly was; and people called her agreeable, for she talked agreat deal, in a noisy, lively way, and had a caressing manner for allpersons whom she thought it worth her while to caress. But her face washard; and when the society smile died out of it, it was neitherintelligent nor kindly. Mrs. Joy had been extremely pretty in her youth.Berenice was like her; but Tom Joy the son resembled his father, who haddied three or four years before the opening of this little story.

  Berry and her friend Ethel Curtis were talking about a sailing partywhich they had planned for the next day.

  "The Grays and the Halletts, and Julia Prime, that makes seven; mammafor matron, eight; then there's Tom and George Rivington, and the twoFosters. I can't think where we are to get the other three men."

  "It isn't like a dinner party. The numbers need not be exactly equal,"suggested Ethel.

  "That's true, but it's a great deal better fun to have them equal. Menhate to talk to two girls at once, and the girls who haven't any men totalk to feel left out. Carrol Benton is coming up the end of the week; Iwish he were here now."

  "I guess you'd better look up some other matron, and let me off," saidMrs. Joy, laying down her newspaper. "I don't care much for sailing. I'mso apt to feel a little sick, and that spoils all the pleasure of it.Ask Mrs. Freddy Allen; she is young, and likes to go everywhere, andFreddy will go along and make another gentleman."

  "That will do nicely if you really don't want to go, mamma. We'll invitethem all as we come out of church, and save the bother of writing notes.It's easier to explain when you see people than to write downeverything."

  "Yes, that's one of the conveniences of going to church," remarked Mrs.Joy, calmly. "I've often had as many as three or four invitations,coming out of Trinity on a Sunday morning in the season. These muffinsare horrid. James, tell the cook she ought to be ashamed of herself tosend up such things. They're as tough as leather, and burned besides--asblack as my shoe, I do declare."

  "Yes, 'm."

  And James departed to incense the cook with the unsoftened message. Thecook declared that when ladies came down an hour late for breakfast,they must expect tough muffins; and for her part she didn't care whetherthey were good or not; she didn't think much of the place anyway, anddidn't mean to stay on. There'd be plenty of people coming in a week ortwo, and plenty of places to pick and choose from. Mrs. Joy was alwayshaving little difficulties with her servants.

  Trinity Church looked cool and shady, as the party entered it from thedazzle of the outer sunshine. Berenice Joy was perfectly well-trained inthe outward forms of devotion. She called herself "High Church;" andnothing could be more graceful than the manner in which she glided upthe aisle, bowed to the chancel, and sank on her knees, for what wassupposed to be a short interval of silent prayer. But her eyes wentstraight to the Grays' pew the moment she rose, and from thence to theHalletts', and she whispered to Ethel, "They're all here. That's nice."Then she indulged in a long stare at Candace, who had come to churchwith her cousins, and who, in her new cream-and-brown foulard, with thedaisy-trimmed hat, and a pair of the birthday gloves on her slenderhands, looked quite differently from the ill-dressed little passenger ofthe "Eolus" the Monday before.

  "Do look! That's the very girl we saw on the boat," went on Berenice, inthe same low whisper. "Did you ever! Hasn't Mrs. Gray done her overnicely? I wonder where she got that hat?"

  "I wonder what she has done with the old one?"

  "Given it to the cook, or sold it to the rag-and-bottle man," retortedBerry. Then came a suppressed giggle, which ended in sudden, forcedgravity as the opening words of the service fell on their ears, and theyrose with the rest of the congregation.

  Candace was not conscious that she was being looked at. She had onlyonce or twice in her life been in an Episcopal church, and never beforein an old one. Trinity seemed to her as wonderful and picturesque assome of the churches she had read about in books. She looked at thesquare pews where people sat sideways, instead of fronting the chancelas in ordinary churches. She noted the tall wands with gilded tops,which marked the places of the junior and senior wardens; the quaint,swinging chandeliers of old brass; the tablets on the walls, two orthree bearing inscriptions in honor of dead rectors or other departedworthies, one to the memory of a young girl, with a beautiful flyingfigure in bas-relief, carved in white marble. She gazed with amazementat the pulpit,--one of the ancient "three-decker" pattern, which israrely seen now-a-days, with a clerk's desk below, a reading-deskabove, above that a lofty pulpit for the clergyman, to which a narrowflight of stairs gave access, and suspended over all an enormousextinguisher-shaped sounding-board. It looked large and heavy enough tocrush any clergyman who should be caught by its fall while in act ofpreaching; and Candace watched its slight oscillations with anapprehensive fascination, till she recollected that it must have hungthere for a hundred years at least, so there was no reason to supposethat it would drop on this particular Sunday.

  By turning her head a very little she could get a glimpse of theorgan-loft, with its quaint little organ bearing two gilded mitres and aroyal crown on top, and below, the inscription, "The Gift of GeorgeBerkeley, late Lord Bishop of Cloyne." She wondered who George Berkeleycould have been, and resolved to ask Cousin Kate as they went home ifthere was any story about him.

  There was no whispering or giggling in Mrs. Gray's pew. The girls weretoo well trained for such irreverence; and except that Georgieinterchanged one little smile with Berry Joy as she came in, not one ofthem looked away from the clergyman till the sermon was over and thebenediction pronounced. It had been an impressive service to Candace,who was used to the barer
forms of the Congregational church; and shewas surprised to perceive how little solemnizing effect it seemed tohave on the congregation in general.

  The moment people rose from their knees, a low buzz of conversationbegan. Berry Joy seized on Georgie and Gertrude, and began to unfold thesailing plan as they walked down the aisle. Mrs. Joy took possession ofCousin Kate. Everybody seemed to have something to say to somebody.Candace caught scraps of half-a-dozen different conversations before shereached the door, and not one of them related in any way to the sermonor to anything religious. She overheard one invitation to dinner,another to drive, an inquiry about a dressmaker, a bit of gossip about anew engagement, a request for a recipe for mayonnaise. She supposed itmust be the right thing to chatter thus, since all thesedelightful-looking people did it; still it seemed to her country notionsrather queer.

  The carriage was waiting in Spring Street, a little farther up the hill.She did not like to get in till the others were ready, so she steppedaside among the gravestones, and looked up to where the white, slenderspire of the old church towered against the blue. She was trying to makeout the Episcopal mitre surmounted by the gilded weather-vane, when Mrs.Gray saw and beckoned to her.

  She was still talking with Mrs. Joy, and that lady was saying, "I maypossibly not be able to go myself, but if I am prevented I will see thatthe young folks have a proper matron. And then, my dear, there's CaptainDavis, you know. I never let Berry sail with any one else. He's so safeand so careful, and the weather promises to be perfect."

  "It certainly is perfect to-day," said Mrs. Gray. "Candace dear, I wantto introduce you to Mrs. Joy. My cousin, Miss Arden, Mrs. Joy; or rathermy niece, for her mother was like my own sister. She has come to spendthe summer with me. Cannie, Mrs. Joy is the mother of the young lady whocame down with you in the 'Eolus.'"

  "Ah, indeed, the girls did not tell me about that," said Mrs. Joy."Well, my dear,"--Mrs. Joy would have said "my dear" to Queen Victoriaor the Empress of China, if she had ever had the chance of an interviewwith those potentates,--"you've come to a charming place and to charmingrelatives, I'm sure, and you can't fail to enjoy your summer. You mustcome with your cousins to-morrow to this sailing-party which my youngfolks are getting up. They'll be delighted, I'm sure."

  "Thank you," said Candace, timidly, glancing at Mrs. Gray.

  "That will be very nice," said her cousin. "Cannie has not been on thewater yet. It is a new pleasure for her. At four o'clock, you said, Mrs.Joy?"

  "Yes, dear, at four. And don't trouble to send down for the girls. It'simpossible to tell exactly when they will get in, as it depends on thewind, and Berry will have the beach-wagon, and can bring them all up aswell as not. Good-by, dear." And Mrs. Joy sailed toward her carriage,where the two girls were already seated.

  "I've asked that Miss Arden who's staying with the Grays to go outsailing with you to-morrow," she said, as she took her seat. "You'llwant another gentleman, Berry."

  "Oh, mamma, what _did_ you do that for? She's the pokiest little thing.We didn't want her at all."

  "Well, Mrs. Gray introduced her, and said she was almost her niece, andI thought it seemed to be expected. Mrs. Gray is always polite to ourvisitors, you know, and I don't like to seem to slight any of hers.What's the matter with the girl?"

  "Oh, nothing's the matter, only she's poky, and doesn't seem to fit insomehow. You would understand if you had seen her the day she came. Mrs.Gray has dressed her up, as you might be sure she would; but then shelooked like the backwoods, didn't she, Ethel?"

  "She seemed nice-appearing enough to-day. You'll have to make the bestyou can of it, I guess; for Mrs. Gray accepted for her."

  "It doesn't really signify," said Berry, discontentedly; "only it throwsthe party all out of shape. And she's younger than any of the rest, onlyjust seventeen, Georgie says. She'd a great deal better stay at homewith Marian."

  It was fortunate that Candace did not guess how unwelcome her companywas to the getters-up of the party, for the idea of the sail was mostdelightful to her. She had never been out in a boat in her life, noteven on the smallest pond; and she had just discovered the strongfascination of the sea. She longed to get nearer to it, to know itbetter; and in her innocent little heart she thought, "How very kind itwas in Mrs. Joy to invite me."

  Sunday was always a particularly pleasant day at the Grays'. Mrs. Graywas wont to declare that though she did not believe in the JewishSabbath, she did with all her heart believe in the Christian day ofrest; and she took pains to make it a happy one for all under her roof.She gave her servants as much liberty as she could, simplified theirwork, and provided a plenty of good reading for such of them as stayedat home. Her own time was much more at the service of her family than itcould be on ordinary days. She always took a walk with the girls in thecool of the afternoon, if the day were pleasant, and kept some book of athoughtful kind to read aloud in the evenings. This Sunday it happenedto be that wonderful little prose poem of Mrs. Oliphant's, "ABeleaguered City." Cannie found it absorbingly interesting, and even Mr.Gray laid aside his newspaper and listened to the very end.

  The reading done, Candace found a chance to ask her question aboutGeorge Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, the donor of the organ. There was astory about him, as it turned out, and a very interesting one. Mrs. Graytold how, when Dean of Derry in Ireland, the project of establishing acollege in Bermuda for the education of English boys and of Indianyouths to act as missionaries to their own people, had taken possessionof his mind; and he had given up his preferment, and crossed the seawith his family to engage in this chosen work. She described theirlanding in Newport on a Sunday morning when everybody was at church, andhow the clergyman stopped in the middle of his sermon, and with all hiscongregation following him, hurried down to the water-side to receivethe distinguished guest. She promised to take Candace out some day tosee Whitehall,--the house which he built on the island, and in which helived for some years, till the impossibility of carrying out his schemefor Bermuda drove him back again to Ireland; and also the rocky shelfstill called "Bishop Berkeley's Rock," where he is said to have composedthe lines which begin

  "Westward the course of empire takes its way."

  Then she looked up a photograph from Smibert's picture of Dean Berkeleyand his family to show them, and by that time the girls had all growninterested; and when Marian said that she, too, wanted to go to seeWhitehall, Georgie and Gertrude begged to be included also, and Mrs.Gray promised to take them all.

  "One of the Dean's little children is buried in Trinity churchyard,Cannie," she ended; "you can look up the stone some day. It has 'LuciaBerkeley' carved upon it."

  "I should like to," said Cannie. "It has been so nice to hear about him.How many interesting things have happened in Newport! I shall care agreat deal more about that funny little organ, next Sunday."

  * * * * *

  Newport Harbor shone all blue and silver in the sun, as the partystepped on board the cat-boat "Cornelia" at sharp four on Mondayafternoon. Mrs. Fred Allen, a tall, graceful brunette, seemed as much ofa girl as any of the party which she was nominally to "matronize;" but"she _was_ married though she didn't look it," as Berry Joy remarked,and so was qualified to fill the place. There was a fair wind, whichsent the boat smoothly along with little or no motion as they glidedpast the long sunken shoal off the end of Goat Island, and opened theview of Brenton's Cove, with the wreck of the old slaver lying in thedeep shadow under one bank, opposite the ribs of the other strandedbark; while from beyond in the laughing bay, white-winged boats flittedto and fro, and seemed to beckon and make tempting signals to the poordefeated barks who might never sail or enjoy the sea again. Candaceventured to ask Gertrude in a whisper, "What are those?"

  "Oh, only some old wrecks," replied Gertrude, carelessly; and she turnedfrom Candace to talk to Tom Joy, who sat next to her.

  The "Cornelia" was now running on the favoring wind between Fort Adamsand the Conanicut shore. On one hand lay Newport, which looked like
adream city in the soft shine of the afternoon; on the other was the longhill line of the island, green with grasses, except where broken now andthen by rocky cliffs, and indented with innumerable little coves andinlets,--some ending in strips of pebbly beach, others in stony shelvesoverhung by sea-weeds. The water was beautiful in color,--here paleflashing green, there purple in the shadow, with gleams of golden lightand a low reach of shimmering blue toward the horizon. On sped the boattill they could almost touch the ledges. The rounded outline of the oldfortification on the upper hill towered above their heads. Then suddenlyshe curved and wheeled off on the other tack, with the sharp line ofCastle Hill and the Agassiz Point full in view.

  Candace gazed with delighted eyes to left and right. Her mind was fullof questions, but there seemed no one of whom she could ask them.Georgie and Berry were perched on the extreme point of the bow, with ayoung man stretched at their feet. Mrs. Fred was on the cabin roofamidships, with quite a little court of girls and young men about her.The couples who sat opposite and beside her seemed quite absorbed ineach other. No one had spoken to Candace since the first introductions,and she was too shy to open a conversation with anybody.

  "How I wish I knew!" she sighed to herself, half aloud.

  Looking up, she met the shrewd, twinkling eyes of the Captain. Perhapshe had caught the words, for he asked encouragingly, "Did you speak,Miss?"

  "No," said Candace, "I don't think I spoke. But I was wondering aboutthat--that--_thing_ up there," pointing to the Fort.

  "That? That's Fort Dumpling, as folks call it. It is a kind of a queerold place, ain't it? They don't use it now for no war purposes, but itmakes a pretty p'int in the landscape, and folks go there for picnicsand such in the summer season."

  "When was it built?" asked Candace, charmed to find somebody able andwilling to satisfy her curiosity.

  "Wa'al, I reckon it was about 1812, when we was a-tackling the Britishfor the last time. 'Tain't very much of a fort to look at; but if youwas to mount some of them powerful guns they make now on the walls,them and the others over at Fort Adams yonder would protect the channelpretty well. The shot'd reach clear across. Why, you hardly think itperhaps, but not more'n four or five years ago, there was some folks whohad come on a kind of an excursion, taking their lunches up there byFort Dumpling, and some soldiers was firing at a long-range target overthere to Fort Adams, and one of the balls came over and hit a younglady."

  "How dreadful!" said Candace, her eyes measuring the long distancebetween the two points. "And it seems so far away. I suppose the younglady felt perfectly safe. I am sure I should have. Did it kill her?"

  "Oh, no! they thought at first it had, but it didn't turn out so bad aswas expected. The soldiers, they felt mighty mean, I expect. You see,they didn't intend a mite of harm to her or anybody; but it just showshow far them big guns carry now-a-days. A war-ship now, unless she wassome kind of a monitor or that, would stand a fair chance of beingstove and sent to the bottom before she could get in to attack Newport."

  "What a fanny little house that is close down to the water!" remarkedCandace, looking off to the opposite shore.

  "That's Professor Agassiz's laboratory. Do y' see that kind of a covewhich sets in there near by the building, and a little black thingsticking up out of it? That's the pipe of his steam-launch. He and therest go out in it and dredge for fish and such like, and then theyexperiment on them inside."

  "What do they do that for?" asked Candace.

  "Wa'al, they want to find out about 'em, I reckon. I was in there onceand saw them at work, but I couldn't make nothing out of it, and therewasn't anybody I could ask."

  "Oh, what is that?" cried Candace, as the "Cornelia," tacking again,opened one of the little bays on the south end of Conanicut, where asmall steam vessel was lying. Two boats, which seemed to belong to her,were rowing in a parallel line with each other, and behind themappeared a long line of bobbing points which she could not at allunderstand.

  "That's one of the fishing steamers, and the boats are drawing hernets," explained the Captain. "Didn't you ever see a seine drawn before?Wa'al, I declare! I'm mighty glad we happened just in time, for it's acur'us spectacle. I guess we'll kind of hang about till they get thenets in, and then I'll take the 'Cornelia' up near enough for you tosee."

  "Captain, there are the seine-boats out," called Tom Joy at the samemoment. "Let's sail up and see what they've caught."

  The two boats began to near each other as they reached the limits of thelong elliptical curves which made their course; and presently a greatnumber of scintillating specks were seen in the space enclosed betweenthem. There were the leaping fish, just conscious that they were crowdedinto a confined place, and desirous of escape. When they were quiteclose to one another, the boats turned and began to row for thesteamer. The "Cornelia" followed; and the Captain with a twist of thetiller threw her into the wind just beyond the great net, which by thattime was being rapidly hauled in.

  It was a wonderful thing to see,--the heavy mass of floundering fishespouring over into the steamer's hold. Thousands and thousands ofquivering silvery shapes of all kinds, from the fat, oily-bodiedmenhaden, to weird horned monsters with gaping mouths, andstrange, half-translucent blocks like jelly, which seemed to have nomouths at all. Large and small, pinky white, black, blue,--in theypoured. Now and then some fish more lucky than his fellows would splashover the side of the net and escape to liberty and the deep sea; now andthen a fisherman with a sudden dash of his hand would single out aspecimen choicer than the rest, a blue-fish, a chicken cod, or asea-bass.

  The little company in the sail-boat shared all the excitement of thecatch. The young men left their flirtations for the boat's side, wherethey could get a better view. A great deal of chaff went on betweenCaptain Davis and the captain of the menhaden steamer. Tom Joy amusedhimself by bargaining for blue-fish, and actually bought three bigflapping specimens for a dollar and a quarter. They were deposited onthe bottom of the "Cornelia," where they leaped painfully up and down,while the girls retreated for refuge to the upper deck, till CaptainDavis at last caught the fish and stowed them away in his little cabin.It was not till the last loop of the seine was emptied, the last fishsecured, and the boats were making ready for another cast, that the"Cornelia" finally glided away; and by that time a soft crimson glow hadgathered in the west and the sun was nearing the horizon edge. The windblew more freshly now, and with a zest and coolness which it had not hadearlier in the afternoon.

  Captain Davis pointed out to Candace the light-ship anchored in theoffing between Point Judith and Brenton's Reef, and told her how the menwho lived on board of her did not see a face from land for weekstogether sometimes, when winds were stormy and waves rough. Candacelistened eagerly. The rest of the party had gone back to their oldplaces, but there was not so much chatter now. The dreamy influences ofthe hour were felt by every one. Dick Foster was quoting Tennyson in alow voice to pretty Julia Prime. Berry Joy and Georgie still kept up afitful conversation with their cavalier; but Gertrude had grown silent,and Tom Joy was whistling softly to himself, with his eyes fixed on thesunset.

  The "Cornelia" sped silently seaward. Suddenly they were in the shadowof a deep cove at the very end of Conanicut; and close by them rose outof the sea an immense square table of rock, over which, still as it was,the surge was constantly flinging showers of white spray. The whole topof this rock was black with large sea-birds. Candace had never imaginedsuch a sight. The birds seemed crowding each other on every inch ofspace. Each moment some of them would rise, wheel in air with wild criesand screams, and then settle again to dispute for room, while theseething foam splashed over them; and the incessant flutter of theirwings, the dashing spray, and the long wash of waves at the base of therock gave to their place of refuge the effect of movement, so that itseemed to sway and float in the sea.

  "Oh, what a wonderful place!" cried Candace. "Such big birds, and somany of them,--what do you call them, Captain?"

  "Wa'al, they're mostly cormorants and g
ulls, I reckon. That's what wecall them down to Newport. They ain't no good for eating, so they don'tget shot; and they do increase powerfully, though it seems to me I neverdid see quite so many on the Kettle Bottom before as this afternoon."

  "Is that the name of the rock?"

  "Yes, the Kettle Bottom Rock; that's what it's called. It's a queerplace. There was a painter here last summer, and he made a picter of it,with them birds all flying over it, which folks said was as like aslike."

  The line of hotels on Narragansett Beach was now plainly in sight. Theywere almost off Beaver Tail, and the sea was rougher.

  "Captain, we may as well put about," said Tom Joy. "The sun's goingdown, and there's rather more motion hereabouts than the ladies like."

  So they put about and sped harborward, helped by the tide which was nowrunning swiftly in. Frank Rivington began to sing in a mellow tenorvoice little barcarolles and Venetian boat-songs, which were full of ameasured rhythmic movement like oar-strokes and the beat of waves. Thepink in the west deepened after the sun went down to a vivid orange red,and flamed higher and higher till the zenith caught the glow; and alittle crescent moon, which was climbing up, swung like a tiny silverboat on a crimson tide. It was all like a dream, to which the noiselessspeed of the boat offered no interruption.

  "Good-night, Captain," said Candace, gently, as the "Cornelia" touchedthe wharf, at the upper end of which the carriages were waiting forthem. "I'm so much obliged to you for telling me all about the things."

  "You're welcome, I'm sure," replied the hearty Captain. "It's beennothing but a pleasure so far as I'm concerned. Hope I may take you outsailing again, Miss."

  "Oh, I hope so. I think sailing is lovely."

  "Good-by, Miss Arden. I hope you have enjoyed it," said Mrs. Allen, asshe was borne off by her husband. It was the sole remark addressed bythe "matron" of the party to the little stranger under her care duringthat afternoon; but Candace had not felt neglected.

  "Oh, yes; very much, thank you," she replied. Tom Joy, who had waked upto the sense that "the little girl in the red hat" had not had muchattention paid her on the sail, tried to get up a conversation as thebeach-wagon climbed the hill; but Candace had but little small talk ather command, and they did not get on very fluently.

  "I've had a lovely time, Miss Joy," she said shyly, as they were setdown at home.

  "I'm sure I'm glad. Good-night, Miss Arden." And that was all the noticewhich Berenice Joy took of her youngest guest, beyond the necessarygood-afternoon when they first met on the wharf.

  Candace was too unexacting, and too much accustomed to think of herselfas a child to whom no particular attention was due, to realize or resentbeing treated with this scant courtesy. She told Cousin Kate about thesail and the seine steamer, and all the Captain's tales andexplanations, with a glow of enjoyment which surprised Gertrude, andperhaps pricked her conscience somewhat; for that night, athair-brushing time, she surprised Georgie by the observation, "Afterall, Cannie is quite a sweet little thing."

  "So she is, sweet enough; but what makes you think of it just now?"

  "Why, we rather left her out this afternoon, I am afraid. Hardly anybodysaid a word to her, except the Captain. It was rude enough of Berry, forit was her party; but I think it was worse for us. Any other girl wouldhave been hurt and cross, and showed it; but Cannie never seemed to minda bit, and enjoyed everything, and was just as nice and pleasant as ifshe had been the belle of the party."

  "Well, it _was_ too bad," said Georgie, penitently. "I never thoughtabout it, and I sat ever so far off from her, and Arnold Foster was sofunny--in fact, I forgot Cannie. I took it for granted that she wasbeing entertained, somehow."

  "I'm afraid both of us find it pretty easy to forget Cannie," remarkedGertrude. "Well, I shall try to do better another time."