Brenda's Bargain: A Story for Girls

by Helen Leah Reed

On investigation—for Concetta urged her to investigate—Brenda found her story true so far as it concerned the way in which she had come into possession of the silver clasp. The little girl from whom she had bought it referred her to an old woman who had a long story as to how it had come into her possession, and Brenda at last decided that it was useless to follow the clew further. But the outcome of all this was a better understanding between Brenda and Maggie, for Brenda, when she had once made a mistake, was never unwilling to rectify it. Whether this little girl had stolen it or whether the old woman was to blame she did not care. She felt sure that neither Maggie nor Concetta had taken the purse. She praised the latter for her frankness, and became so kind to the former, that Maggie actually blossomed out under her smiles.

Before the end of the month Pamela had written that she must stay in Vermont all summer, and in consequence could take no part in the vacation work that Julia had planned. Nora accordingly offered her services, and Amy wrote that she volunteered to spend August with the girls.

Brenda's cousin, Edward Elton, who happened to be present when the plans were discussed, expressed himself as being so gratified that Julia and Miss South would not be left to carry on the work quite alone, that Anstiss Rowe, ever a fun lover, began to speculate as to the reason for his concern.

"Do you suppose that this is on account of his interest in Julia? Julia has so many others to worry about her, that he need not be especially fearful on her account, or—there, I'll ask her—" and running up to Miss South, who had just been bidding Mr. Elton good-bye at the door, she put the question so suddenly that Miss South actually blushed. Then a certain idea came into Anstiss' mind, which just then she did not put into words.

It was the end of June before Brenda consented to go down to Rockley, and when she went Maggie accompanied her. The observing little girl was still disturbed as she noted how thin Brenda had grown, and even before Mr. and Mrs. Barlow noticed it, Maggie had seen that Brenda's step was a little heavy, that her bright manner had given place to listlessness. Her one interest seemed to consist in buying and collecting things for the benefit of the Volunteer Aid Association. No one now reproached her for extravagance, and when her father found that it would please her, he doubled his contribution to this Association, and sent another in Brenda's name.

One afternoon Julia came down and spent the night, and the two cousins wandered on the beach, just as they had in that summer that now seemed so long past—that summer that had been Julia's first at Rockley. Little Lettice, skipping along beside them, begged her aunt to tell her about the day when she had sat on the rock and had dropped her book on the heads of Amy and Fritz seated just beneath her. It always interested Lettice to hear this, for Brenda had a fashion of ending the story with "and if I hadn't dropped that book, I might never have known your cousin Amy." For Amy was "Cousin Amy" in the vocabulary of Lettice, who would have thought it a great misfortune never to have known this adopted relative, since nobody else in her whole circle of acquaintances had so many delightful stories to tell. But on this particular evening Brenda was not ready to repeat her story nor to tell any other, and little Lettice, with a grieved expression, ran on ahead of Brenda and Julia to skip stones in the water. Julia did not remonstrate with Brenda, for she realized that her cousin was not acting wholly from perversity.

Now Brenda was not the only one of the Mansion group whom the prospect of Cuban fighting troubled. Miss South's brother Louis was at the front, and two of Nora's brothers, and Tom Hearst, who had written several amusing letters from camp. Yet although those who were in the army tried to cheer the hearts of their friends at home, and although the latter wrote cheerfully in reply, all felt that the time was far from a happy one. The more timid, like Edith, had recovered from their fear that the Spanish fleet would pounce down upon the defenceless inhabitants of the North Shore. Yet some of them would have faced this danger rather than to live in dread that their sons and brothers were to meet the troops in actual conflict under the hot Cuban sun.

Even the strongest, even those who had no relatives in the army, were stirred, as they had seldom been stirred before, on that Sunday morning when they received the first news of the attack on Santiago. How terrifying were the broad headlines with letters two or three inches long, and how meagre seemed the information given in the columns below,—meagre, yet appalling: "The volunteers were terribly raked. Nearly all the wounded will recover." How much and yet how little this meant until the names of the killed and wounded should be given! Brenda herself would not look at those Sunday newspapers. Agnes summarized the news for her, and told her that in the short list given of wounded or killed she had not yet found one that she knew.

"Oh, when shall we hear everything?" cried Brenda. "Oh, Papa, can't you go; can't I go with you? I would so much rather be in Cuba than here."

"My dear child, you are foolish. In Cuba at this season! Even if you could go, what could you do? The killed and wounded are a very small proportion of those who are fighting, and we have no reason to think that Arthur is among them. To be sure, I wish that Ralph were here; we could, at least, send him South. As it is, I may go myself, but we can only wait until to-morrow, when there will be more complete reports."