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Page 31
Mary gasped, but before the others had a chance to see her amazed face,
the lady had risen and linked her arm through hers, and was drawing her
towards the door, saying. "Let me go with you. I am sure that Elise will
not mind receiving such a very old friend as I am up in her room."
Although the lady in black clung to her, shaking hysterically with
repressed laughter, behind her crape-bordered veil, it was not till they
had passed the footman, climbed the stairs and paused at Elise's door
that Mary was sure of the identity of her guest. The disguise had been
so complete that she could not believe the evidence of her own eyes,
until the blond wig was torn off and the spectacles laid aside. Then
Elise threw herself across her bed, laughing until she gasped for
breath. Her mirth was so contagious that Mary joined in, laughing also
until she was weak and breathless, and could only cling to the bedpost,
wiping her eyes.
"And wasn't Jimmy a whole menagerie!" Elise exclaimed as soon as she
could speak. "You should have been there to have heard him howl and tear
his hair at something A.O. told him about me. And I sat there with a
perfectly straight face through the whole of it, while she made up
dreadful things about me. I'm going away off in the pasture to-morrow
and practise that bray all by myself till I can do it to perfection.
Then when A.O. begins to sing his praises again, I won't say a word.
I'll just give her Jimmy's laugh. Won't she be astonished? She's bound
to recognize it, for it's the only one of its kind in the world. I shall
keep her guessing until after Christmas, where I heard it."
"Don't _you_ tell her till then!" she exclaimed, sitting up on the side
of the bed. "She would be so furious she wouldn't speak to me. But after
the holidays, it won't be so fresh in her mind. Promise you won't tell
her."
Still laughing, Mary promised, and Elise began to gather up the various
articles of her disguise, saying, "It was worth a five-pound box of
chocolates to hear her describe me as a reckless scape-grace in that
sorority racket we had."
The mention of candy had the effect of an electric shock on Mary.
"Mercy!" she cried. "I forgot all about that stuff I left upstairs."
Instantly sobered, she hurried away to its rescue. She had intended to
go down only long enough to discover the caller's errand, and then
excuse herself until the candy could be safely left. But more than a
quarter of an hour had gone by. Somewhere about the premises, and for
some reason unknown to her, a greater pressure of gas had been turned
on, and the thin blue flame under the kettle had shot up to a full
blazing ring. A smell of burnt sugar greeted her as she opened the door.
There was no need to look into the kettle. She knew before she did so
that the candy was burnt black, and Jack's fob no longer attainable.
Her first impulse was to run to Betty for comfort. It would be easy
enough to borrow the money she needed from her, and pay her back after
the holidays, but--a sober second thought stopped her. Probably the
girls wouldn't want her candy then. Each of the boxes had been ordered
as a special Christmas offering for some relative with a well-known
sweet tooth. And Mary had a horror of debt, that was part of her
heritage from her grandfather Ware. It was his frequent remark that "who
goes a-borrowing goes a-sorrowing," and it lay heavy on the conscience
of every descendant of his who stepped aside even for a moment from the
path of his teachings. She felt that it would be dishonest to send Jack
a present that wasn't fully paid for, and yet the disappointment of not
being able to send it was so deep, that she could not keep the tears
back. They splashed down like rain into the kettle as she scraped away
at the scorched places on the bottom.
It was a long time before she went back to her room. Ethelinda looked up
curiously.
"Where's your candy?" she asked.
"Spoiled. It scorched and I had to throw it out." Her face was turned
away, under pretence of searching for a book, but her voice was subdued
and not altogether steady.
"Too bad," was the indifferent answer, and Ethelinda went on with her
lesson, but presently a faint sniff made her glance up to see that Mary
was not studying, only staring at her book with big tears dropping
quietly on the page. In all the weeks they had been together she had
never seen Mary in this mood before, and it seemed as strange that she
should be crying as that rain should drop from a cloudless sky.
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