“Yes, I must say that she has. She used to be the slangiest creature I ever saw; she is not near so boisterous either.”
“It seemed to me that it would be just as well if she didn’t go home this summer. I don’t think her stepmother is the slightest advantage to her.”
“Far from it. Well, if she does get through college she will then be able to make her own way and live her own life. Isn’t Danny a beauty? but she always was. Talk about improvement, there you have it. You never hear her say nowadays such things as: ‘she gave it to you and I,’ or ‘those sort of girls.’ Dear me, we had a struggle with her to get those two things all right. Now she seems like any other nice girl and she visits the Burnetts and the Glenns constantly. The Glenns are so very fond of her, and the Burnetts want her to spend the summer with them at their seashore cottage.”
“She will enjoy the camp far more.”
“I am sure of it; one could see how eager she was.”
Portland reached there were three weeks still before them, but these were by no means slow in passing. A trip to the beautiful Songo River, to the various islands in charming Casco Bay, to the old town of Brunswick to see Bowdoin College and the old Longfellow house; there was no lack of places to go and at the end of two weeks they had not exhausted all their resources, then suddenly upon the scene appeared an entirely unlooked-for figure. The meeting came about in this way: Miss Helen was making some purchases in one of Portland’s pleasant shops when a gaunt, weather-beaten woman happened to be standing by her side. She was peculiarly dressed, wearing men’s boots and a man’s coat rather the worse for wear; on her head was a nondescript hat and her bony, gloveless hands gave evidence of rough work. As Miss Helen gave her name and address the woman looked at her sharply, then followed her to the next counter before which she stopped.
“Excuse me,” began the stranger, “but I heard you give the name of Corner. We don’t have that name up here, but my mother had relatives of that name; she hasn’t heard from ’em for years, but she would be that pleased if you happened to know any of the family in Virginia. You speak like a Virginian and that’s why I made bold to mention it.”
“I am from Virginia, and my name is Corner,” returned Miss Helen. “What is your mother’s name?”
“She’s a Hooper now. My father was Everett Hooper, but her maiden name was Daingerfield and she was from Albemarle County, Virginia. Maria Carter Daingerfield was her name before she was married.”
“Why, of course; she was my mother’s first cousin, I suspect. I’ve often and often heard my mother tell the story of how Maria Daingerfield was carried off prisoner by a Yankee officer; that is the way she used to put it.”