Brenda, Her School and Her Club Page 20

  XX

  FIDESSA AND HER MISTRESS

  On the very afternoon when Nora and Belle had their falling out, Julia,after finishing her practising, had gone for a walk. It was a bright,clear day, and she wished that she had some other girl to walk with her.For when by herself she never ventured beyond the entrance to the park,although if her cousin or one of her school friends could go with her,her aunt had no objection to her walking in the park itself. One of thedisadvantages of her friendship with Ruth Roberts lay in the fact thatthey could seldom be together in the afternoons. Their homes were toofar apart. Sometimes on Saturday Julia would go to Roxbury to spend thehalf day with Ruth, and on other Saturdays Ruth would come in town tostay with Julia. It was hard to tell which was the pleasanter thing todo. At Roxbury, there were Ruth's ponies to drive, and in snowy weathera chance to coast down a quiet side street. Out of town there are manymore chances for fun for girls past sixteen than can possibly be foundin town or the city. When Ruth visited Julia the two usually went to aconcert accompanied by Mrs. Barlow, or when she could not go, by one oftheir teachers. Of late Julia had been in the habit of inviting MissSouth to go with them. Brenda never went to these concerts. She was notfond of music, and she did not pretend to be. The only matinee that shecared for was the theatre, and as her parent were decidedly opposed toher going often to the play, she could not indulge herself half as muchas she wished.

  On this particular afternoon Julia felt especially lonely. Doubtless nosmall part of her loneliness came from the fact that she was perfectlywell aware of the presence of the "Four" in the house, and though shehad tried not even to say to herself that she felt slighted, she wouldhave been less than human not to feel that her cousin had slighted herin not asking her to the club. "To look up and not down, to look out andnot in," had been one of the lessons which her father had been mostcareful to teach her. It was therefore not very often that she let herthoughts dwell too long on her own affairs. But on this particular dayshe felt a little low-spirited and inclined to regard herself as ratherill-used. Without realizing it she had walked some distance into thepark, and pausing to admire a bit of distant view that she was able toget from a slightly elevated point, she lingered a moment or two longerto decide whether it was an animal or a child that she heard cryingbehind a small clump of bushes near by. When she found that there was noother way of satisfying herself, she walked up to the bushes, and there,standing forlornly on three legs, was a tiny Italian greyhound.

  "Why, you poor little thing!" she cried, "what is the matter?" and asshe spoke she took the little creature in her arms.

  "Is your leg broken, or sprained, or what?" she continued, though ofcourse she did not expect any reply from the dog. The greyhound showedgreat joy at the sound of a friendly voice, and looked up in Julia'sface with an expression of confidence and gratitude.

  "Come, I am going to put you down on the ground for a minute to seewhether you are hurt, or only pretending." So, suiting the action to theword, she stood the little dog on its feet. As if understanding herpurpose, the little creature limped in front of her for a few steps, butthe limp was so slight as to assure Julia that no serious accident hadbefallen the leg, which the dog still seemed inclined to hold off theground.

  "Now let me see if your collar tells who your owner is," added Julia,and she bent down towards the dog. There to her surprise, she read inclear letters, "Fidessa, Madame du Launy." Now immediately Julia decidedthat the owner of the dog must be the mistress of the large house nearthe school, about which her friends were so curious. In an instant, too,she remembered that she had seen this little animal, or one very likeit, taking its exercise in front of the great, mysterious house. Juliahad always been fond of dogs, and the little trembling creature appealedstrongly to her. For a moment she almost wished that there were no nameon the collar, so that she might have kept it with her for a day or twowhile finding the owner. "O, if only it had no owner, what joy!" shethought, as she gazed into its dark eyes, "to keep it for myself!"

  As things were, however, she felt that she ought to try to return it assoon as possible, and taking the little Fidessa in her arms, sheretraced her steps to the other side of the city where Madame du Launylived.

  As she stood in front of the house which Nora and Brenda had tried sounsuccessfully to enter a few weeks before, the old timidity which atone time had been the trial of her life returned to her. Nevertheless,she rang the bell bravely, and was welcomed almost with open arms by theserious-faced servant who opened the door. He had seen Fidessainstantly, and if he had not, the little creature would have madeherself quickly known. When Julia released her, she jumped about in thegreatest excitement, whirling around in a circle and then rushing aheadup the stairs. All trace of the lameness seemed to be gone, greatly toJulia's surprise.

  While Fidessa was running ahead, the man, asking Julia to follow him,had shown her into a large room, rather dimly lighted. At first shethought that she was alone, but far at the other end of the apartmentshe saw a slight figure arise from the depths of a large armchair, asthe man said solemnly, "Madame du Launy, here is a young lady who hasfound Fidessa." At that moment the truant dog bounded into the room, andleaping up towards the old lady almost knocked her over. At the samemoment a plain, elderly woman entered behind Fidessa, and Julia couldsee as she stood in the doorway that her eyes were rather red around theedges as if she had been weeping.

  "Draw up a blind, or two, James," said Madame du Launy, querulously, "weare not at a funeral. Come nearer, my dear, I am sure that I am verymuch obliged to you for your trouble. Where did you find my poor littledog?" By this time, the "poor little dog" was seated calmly on a cushionwith its slender front legs crossed as if it had never given any one amoment's uneasiness. As Julia looked at the lady who had addressed her,she saw that she was, or had been tall. Her figure, though somewhatbent, gave the impression of stateliness. This aspect was increased bythe large towering structure which she wore on her head, whether to becalled cap, or turban, it was hard to tell with its folds of black silk,its border of white lace and with two or three jeweled pins sticking init.

  In answer to Madame du Launy's question, Julia described finding thelittle dog in the park, and her fear at first lest it had hurt its leg.

  "That is an old trick of Fidessa," said her mistress smiling, "when sheis at all unhappy she limps about on three legs as if really lame. Shedoes not know her way about the city, and she is never supposed to goanywhere without her leash. As nearly as I can understand from Jane,Fidessa went out for a drive to-day under her care. When Jane left thecarriage to call on a friend of hers, who lives near the park, sheforgot all about my dog. Fidessa probably jumped out of the carriage totake a walk herself. But I must say that it seems most extraordinarythat no one saw her, neither the coachman, the footman nor Jane. Whenthe carriage started home none of them took the trouble to look underthe rugs to see if she was there." Here Jane began to sniffle a little."Well," continued Madame du Launy, "it is a great wonder that she wasnot stolen or run over, poor little thing! It's no thanks to you, Jane,"and she looked daggers at the unfortunate maid. "It is a wonder, too,that none of you could find Fidessa. For I don't believe that the littlething was actually hiding, and you all three have come back with thereport that it was impossible to find her."

  While Madame du Launy was speaking Julia said to herself that she wouldbe very sorry to bring on herself a scolding from so sharp-voiced an oldlady, and she could not help feeling sorry for Jane, even though thelatter had probably been careless.

  But now, with a sudden change of manner, Madame du Launy turned towardthe young girl. "There is no reason, however, why you should suffer forJane's misdeeds.

  "Jane, ring the bell," she cried, and then in what seemed an incrediblyshort time, a man entered with a butler's tray, which he placed on atable in front of Madame du Launy, while the latter invited Julia tocome nearer and take a cup of tea.

  Now as Julia sat there drinking tea from the quaintest of old-fashionedchina cups,
and eating slices of thin bread and butter, and cakes thatalmost melted in her mouth, she could not help wondering what herfriends and her cousin would say to see her actually seated in the housewhich most of them considered absolutely impossible to enter. In spiteof the fact that the curtains at one or two windows had been raised alittle the room was still rather dark, and as she glanced about, Juliacould see the pictures and furniture rather indistinctly. She noticed,however, that one wall was quite covered with large pieces of tapestryrepresenting medieval battle scenes, and that on the opposite wall oneither side of a long mirror there hung a number of family portraits.One of these in a heavily gilded oval frame represented a young girl ofperhaps eighteen years, whose features, for some reason or other, seemedstrangely familiar; in fact there was something in the bright andearnest face that drew Julia's eyes so constantly towards it that shebegan to fear lest Madame du Launy would think it strange that sheshould pay such close attention to it.

  "NOW AS JULIA SAT THERE DRINKING TEA FROM THE QUAINTEST OF OLD-FASHIONED CHINA CUPS"]

  It seemed a remarkable thing to Julia that she should find herselfdrinking tea under the roof of the mysterious house about which theschoolgirls had shown so much curiosity. It seemed even stranger thatMadame du Launy should prove to be altogether less of an ogre than shehad been represented. Although a trembling hand and a rather weak voicebetrayed her age, she talked brightly of various things, asking Juliaabout her school, and her studies, and drawing the young girl out totalk about the western country in which she had spent so much time. Onone subject, however, the old lady was silent. She said nothing inpraise of Boston, either ancient or modern. She never alluded to asingle individual as "my friend" or "my neighbor." She spoke only ofthings, and for the most part of things that had no connection with NewEngland. Her questions about the school were evidently prompted bypoliteness in accordance with the general rule that one should show aninterest in whatever probably interests the one with whom she istalking.

  Jane who stood not far from her mistress' chair, and James who kept hispost near the drawing-room door, looked in amazement on Madame du Launyand her young guest. In all their remembrance,--and both had lived inthe house more than twenty-five years--they had never seen a young girlin conversation with their mistress. Indeed, they had seen very fewguests in that gloomy old drawing-room, and certainly they had neverknown any one else to be asked to drink tea. It was as pleasant as itwas novel to Madame du Launy to have Julia sitting with her, and as forFidessa, she altogether forgot the strict discipline under which she hadbeen reared, and instead of sitting calmly on her cushion, she jumped upin Julia's lap, and from time to time planted a cold, moist little kisson her cheek. When at last Julia rose to go she had made a much longervisit than she should have made in view of the fact that the end of theafternoon was near at hand, and that she had some distance to go toreach her uncle's house. When, however, she rose to go, Madame du Launybegged her to wait a moment. "I have ordered my carriage," she added,"for it is altogether too late for you to go home alone. Let me thankyou very much for your kindness to my little Fidessa, for it would havebeen a very serious loss for me, had she fallen into the wrong hands."Then when she saw James returning to announce that the carriage wasready, she added, "and if you will come again some afternoon, and sparean hour or so for me, you will add more than you can imagine to relievemy very monotonous life." Thus Julia as she bade the old lady good-byefelt that she had made a new friend, and in a very unexpected way. Thecarriage in which she rode home, though old-fashioned in shape, wasdelightfully comfortable, and when she descended from it at her uncle'sdoor, still another surprise awaited her. The footman placed in her handa little box "with Madame du Launy's compliments," he said. This whenshe opened proved to contain a delicately chased little envelope opener,shaped like a tiny scimitar. "Really," she thought, "I have had a mostexciting adventure. Better than I deserve, for it was only thisafternoon that I was feeling so cross and so disheartened because theFour would not include me in the club. But if I had been with them thisafternoon I could not have had this adventure."

  "Well, I certainly _should_ call it an adventure," said Mr. Barlow thatevening, when she told him her experience with Mme. du Launy. "Why, evenI, in all my years of residence here, have never had a glimpse of theold lady. I have sometimes thought it a pity that she should lead sosolitary a life, but it's her own choice. They say she has a regularhermit disposition. How did it strike you, Julia?"

  "Not that way, uncle, at all, not at all, though she seemed very sad."

  "Perhaps she's repenting for the way she has neglected hergrandchildren," interposed Brenda.

  "Are you sure that there are any grandchildren?" enquired Mrs. Barlow.

  "Why, yes, of course, at least I suppose so," answered

  Brenda.

  Mr. Barlow laughed, "I am afraid that you cannot make out a very strongcase of cruelty to children unless you can prove the existence of thechildren."

  "Oh, well," interposed Mrs. Barlow, to prevent that ruffling of Brenda'sfeelings which was sure to follow when she felt that some one waslaughing at her, "There is not much doubt that there are one or twograndchildren for whom Madame du Launy ought to do something. I forgetwhat I have heard about it myself, but I could make enquiries."

  "Oh, Julia will soon be able to tell us more about Madame du Launy andher grandchildren than anybody else ever dreamed of," said Brenda, alittle spitefully, as she left the room.

  "Poor Brenda," murmured Mr. Barlow, "will she ever overcome that spiritof jealousy?"