MRS. GRAY'S ADOPTED DAUGHTERS
After Mrs. Gray's luncheon party in honor of Grace and her three friends a tiny little idea had implanted itself in her mind. As the weeks rolled on, and Christmas holidays approached, it grew and spread into a real plan which occupied her thoughts a considerable part of every day.
As a secretary Anne had turned out admirably. The only drawback was that Mrs. Gray could not see enough of her. The lonesome old lady almost lived on Anne's semi-weekly visits, but the girl was too busy to give any more of her time to reading aloud or driving with her benefactor.
Finally Mrs. Gray took a bold step. She invited the four girls to meet at another Sunday luncheon, and announced her intentions from the head of the table.
"My dear children," she said, "you are aware that I am a very old woman."
"We are not aware of anything of the sort, Mrs. Gray," interrupted Grace.
"Nevertheless I am," pursued Mrs. Gray. "A very old, lonesome person with few pleasures. I have decided, therefore, to do an exceedingly selfish thing, and give myself a real treat."
"You deserve it if anyone in the world does, Mrs. Gray," put in Jessica. "You who are always giving other people treats."
"Wait until you hear the plan, child, before you pass judgment," answered Mrs. Gray. "It's been too many years to count since I have had a really, jolly Christmas," she continued. "I have just sat here in this quiet old house, and let the holidays roll over me without even noticing them."
"Now, Mrs. Gray," exclaimed Grace, "the poor people in Oakdale would not agree with you on that point. Only last Christmas I saw your carriage stopping in front of the Flower Mission, and it was simply bursting with presents."
"Yes, yes, my dear. It is the easiest thing in the world to give presents and not so much pleasure after all. What I want is some actual fun, good Christmas cheer and plenty of young people. But I shall have to be selfish if I'm to get it all, because it will mean that I'm to rob mothers and fathers for a whole week of their children. Mr. and Mrs. Harlowe will have to learn to do without you, Grace, for seven days and nights. Your father, Jessica, must keep his own house. Nora, your brothers and sister must not expect to see you at all while you belong to me. As for my precious Anne, here, I should just like to steal her away altogether from her mother. In fact, my dears, I am going to adopt you for a whole week during the holidays and then—such larks!"
And the charming old lady looked so gay and pretty that the girls all laughed joyously.
"Do you mean that you really want us to make you a visit, Mrs. Gray?"
"I do indeed. That is the exceedingly selfish wish I have been entertaining for the last six weeks. I not only want it, but I have arranged for it already. I have made secret calls, my dears, and mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters are all most agreeable. You are to come to me a week before Christmas and must settle yourselves exactly as if you were my own children. I mean to punish any homesick girl severely by giving her an overdose of chocolate drops. Families may be visited once a day, if necessary, though I shall frown down upon too frequent absences. But, young ladies, before we get any further, tell me what you think of the plan?"
The girls were almost speechless with amazement and pleasure. To visit Mrs. Gray's beautiful home and live in a whirl of parties and funmaking such as would be sure to follow was more than any of them had ever dreamed of.
"It's perfectly delightful, Mrs. Gray!" they cried almost in one breath.
"And we shall give the Christmas party together, my four daughters and I, and we'll do exactly as we choose and invite whom we please."
"Oh, oh!" exclaimed the four young girls. "Won't it be fun?"
"It will for me," said the little old lady. "And I need to have a good time. I am getting old before my time for lack of amusement. And now, my lady-birds, who else shall we invite to the house party?"
"Who else?" said Grace, somewhat crestfallen; for four intimate girl chums are invariably jealous of admitting other girls to the charmed circle.
"Do you mean what other girls, Mrs. Gray?" asked Jessica.
"No, no, child; I mean what other boys, of course. Do you think I want any more than my four nice freshmen to amuse me? But I don't think this party would be complete without four fine fellows to look after us. Who are the four nicest boys you know?"
"David," exclaimed all four voices in unison.
Mrs. Gray laughed.
"There seems to be no difference of opinion on that score," she replied; "but is David the only boy in Oakdale?"
"He's the nicest one," said Anne, who could never forget how kind David had been to her when his sister was her bitter enemy.
"Reddy Brooks is nice, too," said Nora. "He threw apples at some tramps once, and saved us from being robbed."
"Very good," said Mrs. Gray. "Reddy Brooks shall certainly be invited to the house party. I admire courage above all things."
"Then there's 'Hippopotamus' Wingate," said Jessica.
"Who?" demanded Mrs. Gray.
"His name is really 'Theophilus', but the boys have always called him 'Hippopotamus,' and now the name sticks to him and everybody forgets he has any other."
"Are you agreed on Hippopotamus, my adopted daughters?" demanded Mrs. Gray.
It was voted by acclamation, that Hippopotamus was agreeable to the company.
"And now, I have a fourth to propose," announced Mrs. Gray. "I think I should like to import my great-nephew, Tom Gray, from New York. He is a little older than these boys, perhaps. Nineteen is his age, I think, and I haven't seen him since he was a child; but he's obliged to be nice because he bears the name of one beloved by all who knew him."
"Whose name, Mrs. Gray?" asked Nora.
"That of my husband," said the old lady, softly. "The nicest Tom Gray this world has ever known." And she looked at a portrait over the sideboard of a very handsome young man dressed in the uniform of an Army officer.
"He loved his country, my dears, and fought for it nobly. He was a soldier and a gentleman," went on the old lady proudly, "and I am sorry he left no son to follow in his footsteps. He was a great hunter and traveler, too. I used to tell him if he had not loved his family so dearly, he would certainly have been a gypsy. He liked camping and tramping, and used to wander off in Upton Woods for hours at a time. He knew the names of all the trees and birds and animals that exist, I believe. But he loved his home, too, and no woods had the power to draw him away from it for long. I used to tell him he had brought a piece of the forest and put it in our front yard, for he planted all those beautiful trees you now see growing on my lawn, which my old gardener, who has been with me since I was first married, cherishes as he would his own children."
"And is young Tom Gray like him, Mrs. Gray?" interposed Grace.
"I hope so, my dear," sighed the old lady. "If he has inherited the beautiful traits of his uncle, his wholesome tastes for the outdoors and nature, he can't help being a fine fellow. But I have not seen my nephew since he was a child. He has been living here and there all these years, sometimes in America and sometimes in England. His mother and father are both dead, and he has been brought up by his mother's unmarried sisters, who are half English themselves. But he must be a nice boy, even if he has only one drop of his uncle's blood in his veins."
The girls sighed and said nothing. It was touching and beautiful to see the old lady's loyalty and devotion after all these years of loneliness; for her husband had been dead since she was a young woman. Still Mrs. Gray never brooded. She was always cheerful and happy in doing kindnesses for other people.
"If ever I marry," sentimental Jessica was thinking, "I hope it will be somebody like Mrs. Gray's husband."
"I should like to have a brother like Tom Gray," observed Grace aloud.
"Well," said Mrs. Gray, "we shall have to wait and see what the new Tom Gray is like. He may be utterly unlike my Tom Gray."
And the old lady sighed.
"We shall all have to get new party dresses," exclaimed Nora to change the subject. "I have been wanting one for an age and now I have a good excuse."
"Oh, yes," cried Grace enthusiastically. "Now, at last, I shall be able to get the blue silk mother promised I could have if at any time there was an occasion worthy of it."
"I'm going to ask papa to give me a lavender crepe for a Christmas present," said Jessica.
"O Mrs. Gray," continued Nora, "we are going to have such fun Oakdale can't hold us."
"I think we should have a surprise for Mrs. Gray," announced Grace. "She is doing so much for us. O girls! I have an idea."
"What!" demanded the others breathlessly, including Mrs. Gray herself, who was as full of curiosity as a young girl.
"No, no," cried Grace, "it wouldn't be a surprise if I gave it away. But it's going to require a lot of work and planning to carry it out."
"Is it big or little?" asked the dainty old lady as eager as a child to find out the secret.
"It's rather small," answered Grace.
"Fine or superfine?"
"Both," laughed Grace. "But you'll not know till Christmas night; so stifle your curiosity."
"I suppose I must wait, but it's going to be very hard," replied Mrs. Gray plaintively.
And so the party was arranged. Notes, written by Anne, were dispatched to the four boys; plans were discussed for the week's amusements, and the four girls finally started home in a state of great excitement to look over their wardrobes and furbish up their party dresses.
Only Anne had looked somewhat dubious during the conversation. How could she spend a week in a beautiful house, with parties every night and company all the time, and nothing to wear but that hideous black silk?
"Anne," called Mrs. Gray, as the young girl was about to close the front door and follow the others down the steps. "Wait a moment. I want to see you." She led Anne into the big drawing room. "Do you know that I am greatly in your debt, my child?" continued the old lady, as she drew Anne down beside her on the sofa. "I don't think I could ever possibly repay you for the good you have done me this autumn. But I am going to try, nevertheless, by making you a Christmas present before Christmas arrives. Now, when I was your age, I preferred clothes to other things. I think all young girls do; or, if they don't they are most unnatural. Therefore, child, I have decided to pay off some of my indebtedness to you by getting my dressmaker to make you some dresses, if it is agreeable to you. Why, what is this! My little girl crying?"
The tears were streaming down Anne's cheeks.
"You mustn't cry, my own child," sobbed Mrs. Gray. "For I always cry when I see other people doing it, and it's very bad for my old eyes, you know."
"You are so good to me!" said Anne. "It makes me cry because I'm so happy."
"Well, well!" exclaimed Mrs. Gray, drying her eyes and beginning to laugh. "What a couple of sillies we are, to be sure. Now go, Anne, to my dressmaker, Mrs. Harvey, who has orders to make you four dresses, two for evening and two for afternoon. Mrs. Harvey has good taste and will help you select them. But perhaps you will like the ones she and I looked at the other day. One of them I am sure you will admire. I chose it specially because it will give color to your pale cheeks."
"What is it, Mrs. Gray?" asked Anne eagerly.
"It's pink crepe de Chine, my dear."
And Anne held her breath to keep from crying again.