Hester's Counterpart Part 29

At this Renee began to giggle. Mame looked at her and straightway did as Renee. Mellie and Josephine made a brave effort to control themselves, but after a few minutes they were following Erma's example and were sobbing as though their hearts would break.

Miss Richards and Miss Debby took matters into their hands. There was no help to be expected from the Fraulein, for she was as wearied as the girls.

The housekeeper made ready the rooms and the girls were forced to go to bed.

"Each young lady ate a little something, I observed," said Mrs. Perkins.

"Let them rest a while, then I shall take some refreshments to them."

"It was so beautiful what they behaved yet to this time," cried the Fraulein. "Never no word, no fuss, all smiles, all funs, no cross or nothing until now." She was much disturbed lest the women would discredit her for the girls' behavior.

"We understand," said Debby Alden. "It is not your fault, Fraulein. You are going to rest now, too. We intend treating you like a little girl; send you to bed and send your bread and jelly to you."

"Ach," the little German teacher tried to look self-reliant and sufficient to take care of herself. But there was something in Debby Alden's manner which touched her. The Fraulein was a stranger in a strange land. Many and many were the times when she longed for the tenderness of those who were bound to her by the ties of love and blood.

She was but a little homesick girl, herself and wished to be mothered like other girls. But she was brave enough with all her longing. She shrugged her shoulders; but Debby laid her hand affectionately on the girl's shoulder. That settled it. In an instant, the German teacher rested her head against Debby; her eyes filled; she touched Debby's cheeks tenderly; "I vill go. The Fraulein is so kind. The Fraulein has a heart in her breast." Without a word of demur, the little German teacher followed the girls and rested while the housekeeper and Debby Alden waited upon them with the most kindly attention.

Robert Vail and his man had returned at once to the city taking with them a supply of necessities. The housekeeper came to Miss Debby with the explanation and apology. Thought of others had caused Robert to neglect his duty as host. Here Mrs. Perkins looked mournful and as though she might say much if she chose, and added that Mrs. Vail had left early that morning, having driven over the hills to an adjoining town where railroad communications had not been cut off. She had received news which had caused her some anxiety and she had set forth at once.

The housekeeper was in the mood to speak freely; but Debby Alden was not one who discussed with the maid the affairs of the mistress. She accepted the explanation and went her way. So many incidents of life turn as a straw in the wind. This was a time and place propitious for much clearing-up of uncertain matters; but Debby Alden had not been in the mood to listen; and the mistress of the house was traveling over the country after a will-of-the-wisp which had led her many a long, unfruitful journey.

Robert Vail, greatly fatigued with his day's work, came back to Valehurst just at dusk. By this time, the nervous tension had been greatly relieved. The girls had had a nap and a substantial evening meal, and were prepared to look at the experiences of the last few days in a more cheerful light.

Robert brought with him the good news that the hucksters from Flemington had driven in over the hill and had brought food with them to the seminary. The teachers and pupils were preparing to return with them to the farmhouses which stood high enough to be out of the way of the river and creek.

Marshall and Belva with a set of workmen were remaining at school to put the place in order; to build fires that the building might be dried rapidly and to protect the grounds and buildings from vandalism. Doctor Weldon had sent word that the young ladies who were with the Fraulein at Valehurst were to remain there until she recalled them.

Miss Debby and Miss Richards, with the little group of girls, had gathered about Robert on the lawn, anxious and eager to hear about their friends. When the message had been received and the good news told, the crowd separated into little groups. Helen and Hester, in company with Robert, moved toward the house.

"I had no opportunity of asking you about Aunt Harriet," said Helen, "and I do not like to put such questions to Mrs. Perkins. You said that Auntie would be here, Robert." She looked up at him and waited as though expecting an explanation.

"So I thought. We made ready before daylight this morning to go for you girls. Mother came down to see us off. In fact it was she who prepared the lunches to give to any one in distress. But Perkins tells me that quite early someone called her up on the 'phone. She talked a long time.

Then she called Ryder and told him to get out the grays and the light carriage. Then she went off. She didn't even leave word where she went.

I called up father's office. He knew nothing about it."

"And don't you know?" There was anxiety in Helen's voice. Her eyes had a pained, distressed look.

"She telephoned to Perkins that she had gone to Minnequa, a little factory town where an old colored woman had the care of a young white girl. The message came from those people who had found such a 'sure thing,' before and then failed to make good when the time came."

"You don't mean that horrid man and his son? What was their name--Stroat--Strout?"

"Stout, if I remember right. Before it was a mere scheme to extort money, and I do not doubt that it will be the same now. Poor mother, she will be worn out with the journey and have nothing but disappointment for it all. I mean to talk with her on the wires to-night. If she does not intend coming home at once, I shall go to Minnequa and be with her.

I may start early and shall not see you in the morning. Will you explain to Miss Debby and the girls? I am not running away, but I must not let my mother stay there alone."

"Yes, you must go. Do not give a thought about us. We shall be very well taken care of here. Poor Aunt Harriet! How I wish I might fill that empty place in her heart!"

Hester had been walking a few steps in advance; but had heard the conversation. Why should Helen always speak of her aunt as though she were to be pitied? Mrs. Vail had everything that a woman could desire--a beautiful home with trained service, a husband and son who considered no one but her. It was strange. Hester could not understand why Helen should always speak of Mrs. Vail as "poor Aunt Harriet."

CHAPTER XVII

How fine it would be if one could foresee the result of every action!

Hester Alden's slight prevarication to Robert Vail, when she told him that her father had been Miss Debby's brother, carried with it a long series of misunderstandings. Had Robert Vail known the facts--but he did not.

Hester, bearing within her heart the consciousness of her own fault, spent not a few unhappy moments with herself. To it, she attributed the former entanglement, between herself and Helen. She reached this conclusion because she knew of nothing else on account of which Helen might have misjudged her. Several times, she decided to speak of the matter to Helen and confess that she had misrepresented matters when she had declared that she belonged to the Alden family; but each time, her courage failed her, and her pride prevented. It is not an easy matter for one to confess that she has, in her statements, deviated from the truth.

The morning following the coming of the girls to Valehurst, Robert Vail left home early and by a hard drive over the mountains at length reached the junction where railroad communication had not been cut off.

Mrs. Perkins expected him to return with his mother the following day; but they were detained by business. So Valehurst was left without a host or hostess. Mrs. Perkins exerted herself to make the guests comfortable and the servants, with which the home was well provided, vied with each other in their attendance upon the young ladies. The girls were thoroughly enjoying their experience, Hester, perhaps most of all, for such a household was new to her. She liked to play lady of the manor.

"Don't you wish you and I could live this way?" she said to Debby Alden, during the second day of the enforced visit. Debby Alden looked at the questioner and then asked, "Are you not satisfied, Hester, with your own little home?"

"Yes, I am!" cried the girl impulsively. "A little house with Aunt Debby is better than a mansion without her. I am really satisfied. Yet it does seem nice to be here. I feel quite at home."

"I presume a lady feels at home in any cultivated environment," was the rejoinder. Debby paused a moment. She was not one to repeat the tales which came to her ears; but when, as in this instance, her sympathies were touched and she felt that her story might bear with it a moral, it might be really worth her while to repeat it to Hester.

"Valehurst is very beautiful, Hester. We recognize that; but it cannot bring happiness to those who dwell in it. Mrs. Vail has a great sorrow.

What it is, I do not know. I did not care to inquire. Robert told me that his mother, years ago, had a bereavement from which she has never recovered, and to which she has never become reconciled. The servants speak as though she were a woman saddened by some dreadful experience."

"But Helen says she is very cheerful and can never do enough to make others happy."

"Outwardly, perhaps. From what I have learned, she is one who has strength of character enough to keep her sorrows to herself and not burden others. Of course, she would try to make Helen and every one else happy, even though she were most miserable herself. I would not have spoken of the matter, had I not thought you were estimating one's happiness by the amount of material wealth one possessed.

"Poor Mrs. Vail! I am a happier woman than she. I have just my little home and my girl, but I am very content."

"So am I, Aunt Debby." She pressed Debby Alden's arm closer within her hand. Then she added, "Wasn't it a good thing that I was left to you.

Wouldn't it have been dreadful if I had been taken somewhere else and you would have been left alone. Just think how lonely we would have been."

"Yes, it would have been hard; but it didn't happen that way. It was intended that you should be my girl."

"You mustn't think that I was discontented because I wished that you and I lived in a mansion. I am not one bit discontented. I was just wis.h.i.+ng."

"Learn to be contented. Folks are miserable otherwise. The Aldens, taking them as a family, were not complainers or grumblers--except Ezra, and how he ever came by it, I do not know. He was never contented. He wouldn't go to school, and he wouldn't farm, and he wouldn't be satisfied anywhere or with anything."

"Ezra? Who was he, Aunt Debby? I never heard you mention his name before."

"He was my oldest brother. He would be a man of sixty if he were living now. I never mentioned him, because he is more of a memory than anything else. He was only sixteen when he ran off west. He wrote a few times.

The letters were two or three years apart, and always from different sections. At one time he was on a ranch, another time in the gold fields. He could not be contented long anywhere."

"Where is he now, Aunt Debby?"

"Dead, Hester. Dead long ago. At least we think so. For years, no letters have come from him. When father died, we sent word everywhere, but he never replied. We said then that he was dead."

"If he had lived, I'd have had an uncle. I should like an uncle. From what I've read, they are very jolly."

"You can not always believe what you read," was the sententious rejoinder.

The guests remained at Valehurst three days, during which time neither Mrs. Vail nor Robert appeared, although the latter sent many messages to the girls, through the medium of his cousin or the housekeeper.