CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH
NORAH'S ARK
Alexina said the shop, like a little leaven, was leavening the whole neighborhood, and truly it seemed so. To her those two weeks of association with Marion had been a joy. In the congenial surroundings of the shop she found it easy to live in to-day, leaving the future to unfold as it would. Her shorthand book lay unopened; she began to feel the truth of Marion's assurance, "Your forte is dainty, feminine things, Alex, in spite of your disdain for them."
In their leisure moments they had built many castles concerned with the future of the shop, one of these being a millinery department of which Alex was to have charge.
Indeed, the two weeks of Miss Sarah's illness saw the beginning of many things. Between Miss Virginia and Norah Pennington a strong friendship grew up.
"Miss Virginia is such a dear!" Norah said. "I adore her stilted little expressions, such as 'busy with my needle or pen,' instead of sewing or writing, and with it all she is at heart a child."
"That is the point of contact between you," Marion answered, smiling.
Miss Virginia was like one who had thrown off a yoke, yet she hardly understood her own light-heartedness. It was quite true that she had never outgrown her girlhood. It was only overlaid by grown-up manners, and unconsciously she was beginning to let the burden of convention slip from her shoulders and to enjoy herself as her nature prompted.
Charlotte was an hourly pleasure. Miss Virginia enjoyed looking after her wardrobe as in the past she had enjoyed dressing her dolls. She listened to the schoolgirl experiences poured into her ear, with genuine interest. They were like two children together; but Miss Virginia's sweetness and sincerity, her delicate refinement, could not but have their influence on her impetuous little niece.
One broadening influence came from those Friday evenings in the shop, with their basket making and pleasant talk. Miss Virginia had been accustomed to accept things as they were. When in her very infrequent visits to business offices she had encountered young women acting as bookkeepers and stenographers, she had looked upon them as a class apart. Not that she felt consciously superior, or anything but kindly, but simply that her life and theirs did not touch. She was actually surprised to find Norah's friend Louise Martin so much like other girls, and when Norah described the hall bedroom in the gloomy boarding-house, which was her only home, Miss Virginia began to wish and then to wonder if she could not do something to brighten a life that seemed so dreary.
Another addition to the Friday gatherings was a Miss Jackson, a fellow-boarder of Miss Martin's, a public school teacher and an ambitious, high-spirited girl.
Toward these two Miss Virginia began to show a timid friendliness so plainly sincere it was irresistible. She found them much more interesting than many of the people who belonged to her own sphere, and whom she was accustomed to call friends. The end of it was, she asked them to tea with Alex and the shopkeepers,—a tremendous departure, a step taken with fear and trembling. But when it was over, she found herself looking back on it as one of the happiest occasions of her life.
And now the Friday evenings at the shop began to be enlarged in their scope. It came about quite naturally. Norah, the sunny-hearted, could not breathe without attracting friends; and while the basket making still went on, and Miss Sarah and Miss Virginia brought their embroidery, others dropped in for the pleasant talk.
Alex induced her grandfather to go with her on one occasion, and the judge was clearly both bewildered and charmed. He renewed his acquaintance with Norah, of whom he had not ceased to speak in admiration, and was greatly impressed by Marion's graceful bearing.
Madelaine, who enjoyed doing unexpected things, appeared upon the scene this same night with Winston Graham in tow. This gentleman's astonishment was only exceeded by his willingness to follow Madelaine anywhere. He professed some interest in baskets, whereupon Marion gave him a seat beside Miss Martin.
"'The rich and the poor meet together, the Lord is the maker of them all,'" Miss Sarah quoted to Miss Virginia.
"What do you call this place, Miss Pennington? It isn't really a shop—you don't sell things?" asked Mr. Graham, when, a little later, Norah came to the rescue.
"Why, of course we do. How else could we make a living? And it has several names," she replied. "Has Alex told you the latest," turning to Judge Russell. "She saw Mammy Belle on the corner one morning, gazing over here with all her eyes. 'It shorely do look like a Norah's Ark, Miss Alex,' she said. And really there is no doubt about its resembling an ark although we had none of us thought of it; and while I can't claim exclusive proprietorship, I accept the honor of having it named for me. What do you think of it?"
The old gentleman glanced about him. "It is not nearly poetic enough, my dear," he said.
Norah laughed at this gallant speech. "You see," she went on, "we are simply reviving a cosey old custom of living over the shop, which should interest you as a lover of old things."
"And also of young things—if you will pardon the expression," said the judge, smiling.
"Why, grandfather," cried Alex, "I shall be afraid to bring you again."
"I expect to wake some morning and find the shop has disappeared, leaving no trace of itself," Miss Sarah remarked.
"I trust not," exclaimed Norah. "Where would we be?"
"An enchanted prince would have carried you off," laughed Charlotte.
"Two princes," suggested Miss Virginia.
A sudden gravity fell on Norah, so noticeable that Miss Sarah said, as she turned away, "She seems not to like the idea of the prince."
The days grew long, the air soft and warm; the Terrace gardens bloomed again and the rich foliage of summer succeeded the delicate lace-work of spring. The Russell house was again a Palace Beautiful in its mantle of vines, and the judge sat on the rustic bench beneath the Ginkgo tree, his hands on his stick and a faraway look in his eyes.
Every moment that could be spared from the shop found Marion and Norah off to the country, to return laden with fragrant trophies. The delicate look had gone from Marion's face, and the disfiguring glasses were rarely seen.
One evening in May an unexpected visitor appeared in the shop. A tall, wiry man, past middle age, with a keen, kindly face.
"Why, Dr. Baird!" cried Norah, "I was just wishing for you."
"You were?" he said, shaking hands. "Anything wrong with my patient?"
"Here she is, to speak for herself," said Marion, entering from the next room.
The physician looked at her long and intently. "I give up," he said at length. "It has worked. You are all right, and"—turning to Norah—"I suppose you think you are very clever, miss. Your wild-goose scheme has been a success."
"You shall not call it names, for it has been the happiest winter of my life," said Marion.