The last day—in after years Blue Bonnet disliked to recall that last day, it was so fraught with sadness—she had packed for Carita; helped Mary Boyd; given Peggy a lift with her things, which were piled in an indiscriminate heap for one big leap into a waiting trunk, and had put her own clothes and belongings in readiness for the long journey to Texas on the morrow. She had spent a half hour with Grandmother and Aunt Lucinda, who were remaining in Boston to see her off. There had been a visit to Mrs. White—she could not be forgotten, whatever else was left undone. How often in lonely and discouraged moments Mrs. White had filled the place almost of a mother. Blue Bonnet felt an unbounded regard for her, as well as gratitude.
After all was done she wandered into Annabel's room for a last chat. Others had been of the same mind evidently, for Sue was perched on Annabel's trunk; Wee occupied a comfortable chair; Patty and Angela squatted on the floor. It was a crowd whose drooping spirits even Wee Watts failed to arouse.
Blue Bonnet sank down beside Patty and heaved a sigh. The room was bare and gloomy. The Queen Louise, the china cat, the calendar under the window, alone spoke of a past fading into oblivion.
"Aren't you going to take 'Louise' and the cat, Annabel?" Blue Bonnet asked.
Annabel shook her head.
"Why not?"
"They're willed. We're going to pass them on to the next crowd—the girls who have this room."
Ruth and Annabel exchanged a look. Their minds reverted to the calendar that hung low beneath the window, on which was written—in so fine a hand as to be almost illegible:
"Look behind this calendar. 'A word to the wise is sufficient.'"
Blue Bonnet tried to say something, but the words stuck in her throat. She gave one despairing glance about the room, her eyes sweeping the almost deserted quarters, and rising she made straight for the door.