  Ethel Blue’s change of mind about stepmothers was so complete that her cousins would have joked her about it except that her Aunt Marion advised them to say nothing to her on a subject that had once been so sore a theme. “Don’t recall those painful thoughts,” she advised. “Ethel Blue will be happier and certainly Miss Daisy will be if the present mood continues.” “I thought you couldn’t help loving her when you knew her,” Captain Morton had said to Ethel Blue. “That’s why I was willing to postpone the wedding all summer so that you and she might have a chance to become really well acquainted.” “It was a good way,” answered Ethel frankly. “If I had known about it I should have thought everything Miss Daisy did was done for its effect on me. I should have been suspicious of her all the time.” “You have come to know a very dear woman in a natural way and it crowns my happiness that you should care so much for each other.” Since he had waited so patiently for so many months Captain Morton begged that the wedding should take place at once. Mrs. Hancock urged her sister to have it in Glen Point. “If you go to Washington you’ll have many acquaintances there but not any more loving friends than you’ve made here and in Rosemont,” she said cordially. “It will give the Doctor and me the greatest happiness to have you married from our house, and it will be such a delight to all the U.S.C. if they know that they can all be at the wedding of their dear ‘Miss Daisy.’” “It will be easier for all the Rosemont people—and it would be very sweet to go to Richard from your house,” murmured Daisy thoughtfully. “I believe I’ll do it.” “It will be easier to bring Aunt Mary on here than for all the New Jersey clans to go to Washington,” insisted Mrs. Hancock, referring to the aunt with whom her sister had lived in Washington. “I’ll do it,” decided Daisy. “Richard’s furlough is almost over so it will have to be very soon,” she continued. “I’ll have to begin my preparations at once.” So all the plans were made for a quiet wedding for just the two families and their intimate friends. It was to be ten days after the housewarming. The ceremony was to be in the church at Glen Point, with Ethel Blue as maid of honor, and Margaret and Helen, Ethel Brown and Della as the bridesmaids. Even this very first decision gave the Ethels a twinge of pain, because it prophesied their coming separation. Never before had they been separated at any such function, yet now Ethel Blue was to be in one position and her twin cousin in another. They both sighed when it was talked over, and they glanced at each other a trifle sadly. They did not need to put the meaning of their glances into words. Dr. Hancock was to give the bride away. To everybody’s regret Lieutenant Morton could not be present to act as his brother’s best man. “I’m more sorry than I can tell you, old fellow,” he wrote. “Roger will have to take my place and give you all my good wishes with his own. You may congratulate me, too, for I’ve just got word that my step has come. I can now sign myself, There was great rejoicing in the Morton family when they learned this news, and telegrams poured in on them all day long after the announcement was publicly made. “It gives one more touch of happiness,” smiled Richard Morton, who went about beaming. He had to content himself with the companionship of his daughter, for his betrothed was too busy to give him much time. Probably this was a good thing, for it made her father’s visit much as it always had been to Ethel Blue, and did not impress on her too abruptly the idea of their new relation. It was at the meeting of the U.S.C. held very soon after the housewarming that the members decided to give a breakfast in celebration of the wedding and of Ethel Blue’s departure from Rosemont. “We’ll call it a breakfast, but we’ll have it rather late,” said Helen. “Why?” growled Roger hungrily. “I like my morning nourishment early.” “It’s going to be out on our terrace, and it’s getting to be late in the season and if it’s too cold we can’t have it there,” said Dorothy. “Put in your glass windows and have it at a civilized hour,” implored Roger. Dorothy looked at Helen. “I’ll ask Mother if she won’t do that,” she said. “Then we can have a fire in the open fireplace out there if it should be really frosty. I forgot we had all those comforts!” “We must give the Glen Point people time to get over, if Roger can restrain his appetite a trifle,” urged Ethel Brown. “We’d better have Della and Tom stay all night so they’ll be here on time,” urged Ethel Blue. “I can’t get over New Haven being near enough for Tom to go back and forth so easily. I always thought it was as far off as Boston.” “I declare I almost weep every time I think of Ethel Blue’s leaving the club,” sobbed Tom with loud groans. Ethel Blue tossed a pillow at him. “Stop making fun of me,” she said with her pretended severity. “Ethel Blue was the founder of this club. Don’t forget that,” said James gravely. “Don’t be so solemn, people; you’ll make me bawl,” and Ethel Blue looked around her wildly, as Ethel Brown made a dive into her pocket for her handkerchief, and Della sniffed. “Stop your nonsense, children,” urged Helen. “Let’s make a list of what we are going to do at our breakfast. First, what shall we eat?” The discussion waxed absorbing, but when it came to the arrangement of a program it was found that there seemed to be fewer ideas than was customary among them. “What’s the matter?” asked Helen. “Usually we’re tumbling over ourselves suggesting things.” “I’ve got an idea, but it’s sort of a joke and I don’t want to take the edge off it by telling it now,” admitted James. It proved that all of them were in the same predicament. “I’ll tell you—let’s have Helen and Roger the committee to arrange this program,” suggested Tom. “Then we can each one tell the committee what our particular idea is, and they’ll be the only ones who will know all the jokes.” They decided that this would be the best way, and the committee withdrew to a corner where it was visited by one after the other of the rest of the members, while the unoccupied people drew around the piano on which Ethel Blue was playing popular songs. “When do you go?” Tom asked her as she stopped for a few minutes to hunt up a new piece of music. “The wedding is the day after our breakfast; then they go off on a week’s trip and when they come back they’ll pick me up here and take me on to Fort Myer with them.” “That means that you’ll only be here about ten days longer?” Ethel Blue nodded, her eyes filling. “I wish you’d give us your idea now, Tom,” called Helen, seeing from across the room that her little cousin was not far from tears, and Tom went away, leaving her to let her fingers slip softly through a simple tune that her Aunt Marion had taught her to play in the dusk without her notes. She wondered if she would ever do it again; if her new mother and her father would want her to play it to them; if she should be happy, the only young person in the household when she had been accustomed to a large family; if she could ever get along without Dicky to tease her and to be teased. “Aunt Marion says that every change in life has its good points and its bad ones,” she thought. “I must make the most out of the good points and try not to notice the bad ones or to change them into good ones.” The tune rang out with a gayer lilt. “Any way, there are so many good points now that I ought not to think about the others. I’ve all my life wanted to live with Father. Here’s my chance, and I must see only that my wish has come true.” “You sound very gay over here by yourself,” said James’s voice behind her. “You don’t sound as if you were sorry at all about leaving us.” “I’m trying to balance things,” Ethel Blue answered. “I lose Ethel Brown and all of you, but I gain Father.” “You’ll be coming north for your holidays next summer, I suppose. That will be a great old time for the U.S.C.,” he said hopefully. “It would be simply too fine for words if the U.S.C. could go to Washington for Washington’s Birthday next winter the way it did this winter,” returned Ethel Blue, beaming at him. “There certainly is every inducement to get up an excursion there now,” said James. “You know we’ve decided on a round robin, don’t you?” “A round robin? How does it work?” “Helen and Ethel Brown and the Honorary Member and Dorothy will be here in Rosemont, Margaret will be in Glen Point, Della in New York, you at Fort Myer and we boys at Harvard and Yale and the Boston Tech. Helen is going to start a letter on the first day of each month. She’ll tell us what she’s been doing. Ethel Brown will add on a bit; so will Dicky and Dorothy. It will go to Margaret. She’ll put in a big batch of Glen Point news and send it in town to Della. When she has finished she’ll send it on to Tom at New Haven, and in course of time it will reach Roger and me in Boston and Cambridge and we’ll send it on to you in Washington.” “That will be perfectly great!” exclaimed Ethel. “You can illustrate it with kodaks, and we’ll all know what every one of us is doing all the time.” “That was Aunt Daisy’s idea. She thought we’d all like to keep together in some way even if we couldn’t have our Saturday meetings.” “Isn’t she splendid!” ejaculated Ethel Blue, and at that instant she felt that she was far richer than ever before in her life. The morning of the breakfast proved to be clear and not too frost-filled for comfort. “We really hardly need the glass,” Mrs. Smith said as she and Dorothy examined the terrace at an early hour. “It was safer to have it, though,” answered Dorothy. “It might have rained and it never would have done to have the bride take cold. Now we can have the sashes open and the fire will take off the chill. It’s a great combination.” Mrs. Smith agreed that it was, and went on with her scrutiny of the table. When the guests arrived at nine o’clock, which was the very latest moment permitted them by Roger, they found the sun shining merrily on silver and glass and china, twinkling as if it were in the secret of the jokes that Helen and Roger had up their sleeves. Mr. Emerson had sent over his car for the Hancocks, for the Doctor’s car was too small to convey the entire family. “It does my heart good to see Richard so radiant,” said Mrs. Morton to her sister-in-law as Captain Morton ran down the steps to help his fiancÉe. “I believe the best part of his life is before him,” Mrs. Smith answered softly, a smile on her lips. The hostess sat at one end of the table and Dorothy at the other. In the middle of one side was Helen, the president of the United Service Club, and in the middle of the other, Ethel Blue, the secretary and departing member. Mingled with the other club members were Mr. and Mrs. Emerson, who had contributed so greatly to the Club’s pleasure during the preceding year, and Dr. and Mrs. Hancock, relatives of to-morrow’s bride. The hour was too early for Mr. and Mrs. Watkins to come out from New York, but they telephoned their good wishes and congratulations while the meal was in progress. It was a simple breakfast but everything was good both to eat and to look at. It began with fruit, of which there were several kinds, and continued with a well-cooked cereal. “None of your five minute cereals for me,” smiled Mrs. Smith. “I always have even the short-time ones cooked at least twice as long as they are reputed to need. It brings out their flavor better.” After the cereal with its rich cream came chops for the meat eaters and individual omelettes soufflÉs, as light as a feather, for the egg eaters. The coffee was clear and turned to a warm gold when the cream worked its magic upon it. Broiled fresh mushrooms with bacon brought it all to an end. “Just the kind of muffins I like best,” Ethel Brown said in a undertone to Dorothy. “Potatoes from our own farm,” announced the hostess. “All praise to Dorothy, the farmer,” hailed Mr. Emerson. “Mostly to Roger,” protested Dorothy. “He managed the vegetable end of our planting.” Helen tapped on her glass. “This will be the last meeting of all the members of the U.S.C.,” she said, “because Ethel Blue and the boys are going away.” A shade fell over the faces of all those around the table. “We who are left at home here are going to keep it up, so that there’ll always be a Club for the wanderers to come back to. And we’re going to have a round robin fly about every month.” “Perhaps we’ll all get together next summer in the holidays,” suggested Tom. “We’ll try to,” the president continued. “Now I want to ask you to drink in Aunt Louise’s nice brown coffee to the health of the founder of the United Service Club. She is its secretary and to-day she is distinguished as being about to leave us for good.” They rapped the table and shouted Ethel Blue’s name joyously. She sat with her head bowed, smiling. “Speech, speech,” cried Mr. Emerson. “Thank you, thank you,” replied Ethel Blue breathlessly. “I’m glad we’ve had the Club. It has been fun, although we’ve had to work pretty hard at it.” “You’ve made fun for others,” said Mrs. Emerson. “You’ve lived up to your name:—the United Service.” “I’d like to propose the health of the Club as a whole,” said Mrs. Morton. “As a citizen of Rosemont I can repeat what has been said to me by other citizens, even if, as the mother of some of the members, I might be somewhat embarrassed to utter such praise. Rosemont thinks that the United Service Club has done more to stir up the town than any other organization it has ever had.” There was general applause from the grown-ups. “I’d like to hear some of these undertakings,” said Captain Morton. “Won’t some one recite them?” “O, Father, I wrote you all about them when each one came off,” objected Ethel Blue. “Uncle Richard will hear what some of them are when we give out our prizes,” said Helen. “We’ve decided to give prizes for certain especial successes. Ethel Brown, for instance, will be so good as to rise and receive a reward for reciting more poems than we ever knew could be learned by one small brain.” Ethel Brown rose and received, while the rest applauded, a small sieve. “Why a sieve?” inquired Margaret. “The sieve is symbolic. Ethel takes in verse through her eyes and lets it out through her lips just like a sieve.” After the laughter subsided, Helen continued: “Our next prize is for Grandfather Emerson, who supplied Ethel Brown with much of the material with which she has favored us.” Mr. Emerson was decorated with a miniature well and pump. “I suppose this is the fount of English undefiled on which I drew,” he commented. The president went on with her distribution. The jokes were all mild but for the Club members each had its meaning. James received a small pair of crutches, because he was the only one who had broken a leg. “I’m glad it wasn’t scissors,” said his father. “He might be led into cutting corners again.” Dorothy received a pink tin containing a cake with pink icing—all by way of recognition of her love of cooking and of pink. Roger’s gift was a set of collar and cuffs made from paper “dirt bands” and adorned with cuff buttons and a cravat of dazzling beauty. “A man of fashion and a farmer combined,” Helen announced. Dicky received a watering can, by way of indicating his fondness for getting into trouble with water. A fan went to Della “for next summer’s use.” Tom had a little Roman soldier as a reminder of his representation of one of the Great Twin Brethren. Margaret’s offering was a tiny Christmas Ship containing needles and a spool of thread. Helen gave herself a doll’s coat like the one which she and Margaret had copied in great numbers for the war orphans. Ethel Blue’s gift was a real present—a travelling case fitted with the necessaries of a journey. This came from all the members of the Club. “You’re just too dear,” whispered Ethel Blue, too overcome to speak. They drowned her voice in a burst of chatter, so that she might not burst into tears. “I have a few gifts left,” said Helen, “and I’d like to give them out by acclamation. Whose tires have we worn until they were almost worn out and yet she has never tired?” “Grandmother Emerson,” came the ringing answer, and Helen ran around to her grandmother’s chair and gave her a toy automobile. “Who made the most box furniture for Rose House?” “Roger,” shouted James at the top of his lungs, while at the same moment Roger cried “James.” The others, having been instructed to keep silent, concluded that the question was settled for them. “Roger and James,” decreed Helen, presenting each of them with a knife. “Who are our high-flyers?” “The Ethels,” every one said promptly, for the Ethels were the only ones present who had been up in an aeroplane. A tiny flyer was given to each of them. So it went on until the supply of parcels in Helen’s basket was exhausted. “Now, to wind up with,” Helen said, “I want to thank Uncle Richard for giving us the very finest kind of present,” and she waved her hand across the table to Miss Daisy, whose shining eyes and glowing cheeks told of her delight in all she had seen. “Uncle Richard is taking away Ethel Blue, but he’s giving us an aunt. We love her already and we think we’ve all won a prize in her.” “Ah, no,” exclaimed Miss Daisy, slipping one hand into Ethel Blue’s and laying the other on Captain Morton’s shoulder. “It is I who have won a prize—a double prize!” |
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