Laughing Last - Jane Abbott (portable ebook reader .txt) š
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āSixth is Mr. Commander Nelson at the Coast Guard Station who invited me to come to see him again. He said if he needed a hand at any time heād send for me. It would be exciting to help save souls from a wreck at sea. I would like to even see one though that sounds wicked and I must curb my thirst for adventure.
āJed Starrows is not an acquaintance but I intend to know more about him. When anyone speaks of him they put such a funny tone in their voices. I asked Mr. Dugald if he is aristocratic too and he laughed and said he most certainly is not. But he owns a big boatāan auxiliary schooner that is the fastest one here and he has just bought out a fish company and Aunt Achsa says it beats everything where he gets his money because he wasnāt much more than a common clam-digger a year or so ago. But I will record here that Captain Davies spoke of Jed Starrows as though he might know something about pirates and I mean to find out if I can.
āEnough now, dear friendāmy arm aches and I must stop. Adieu for the nonceāā
MAIDS
And later Sidney wrote the following letter to her sisters.
āDear Family:
āI have not written before because everything is so marvellously exciting. My telegram told you that I had arrived safely at Cousin Achsaās. The hours of my journey, all too short, sped on wings of happiness. Thus they are still speeding. This is the loveliest and the unusualest place and it is filled with quaint homes and the most interesting people. Our relatives are among the most aristocratic and Aunt Achsa, she wants me to call her that, is of the proudest blood of Cape Cod. She is very nice to me and asks a great many questions about you all and about our mother. She has a nephew who lives here who is only a year older than I am. And a family friend of Aunt Achsaās lives here summers and he takes Lavender (which is our cousinās name) and me out on a big boat which is most exciting.
āThere is a girl about my own age who lives right next door and I think we will be very good friends. She is not at all like Nancy which I am glad as variety is the sauce of living. She is of pure Cape Cod blood, too.
āIf I do not write often and only very little letters it is because Iām so busy, for I must make the most of every minute. I wish you would write to me an awful lot though and please send all of Vickās letters to me so that I will know what sheās doing just as though I was home, and Trude, you write every day. And when you write to Vick tell her that I am having the most wonderful time. Be sure to do that. Loads and loads of love,
Kneeling against a half-packed trunk, Trude read Sidneyās letter aloud to Isolde. Victoria had gone the day before.
āWhat do you think?ā Trude asked, slowly, as she finished.
āThink? What do you mean? Iām glad the childās there safe and happy.ā
āBut, Issy, that letter doesnāt ring justātrue. I know how Sid usually writes and talks. Itās too brief and thereās something, wellāforced about it.ā
Isolde put down a box of papers she had been sorting over. Her conscience had troubled her not a little at letting Sidney go off alone among strangers, even though they were relatives, and now Trudeās doubts sharpened the pricks.
āForced? I didnāt notice it. It was short, of course, but probably she is having too good a time to write a longer letter. Anyway, Trude, sheās there safe, and weāre almost packed and our tickets are boughtāit isnāt going to do anyone a bit of good, now, to upset all our plans and bring Sid home. Thatās the way I look at it. And she would have been perfectly wretched here with the League Convention filling the house. Itās dreadful to contemplate.ā
āI canāt bear to think of Sid going out on boats with a harum-scarum boyāā Trude groaned.
āI donāt feel half as concerned over the boats as I do wondering if living there in luxury may not spoil her for her own poor homeāmake her dissatisfied. She is probably meeting all the wealthy summer peopleāthere are a lot on the Cape, you know.ā
Trude was still studying the letter as though to find something between the written lines.
āShe wants me to write every day. That sounds a little homesicky. Well, I will, bless the kidās heartāno matter how rushed I am. And I will warn her in every letter to be careful around the boats. And not to get her head turned by our relativesā high estate, either. Isnāt it funny, Issy, that we never knew they were wealthyāuntil now? Not that it would have made a bit of difference with Mother or Dad,ā she finished, defensively.
Isolde, her conscience quieted for the hundreth time, turned her attention to her box. She lifted out a small packet of letters tied together and handed them to Trude.
āThese are yours.ā
One slipped from the packet and fell to the floor between the two girls. Trude picked it up quickly, a deep crimson sweeping her face.
āWhy, itās one of those lettersāā exclaimed Isolde, accusingly.
Trude nodded, guiltily. āI know it. IāI couldnāt bear to destroy them all.ā
āTrude, dear, you donāt care anything about that manānow?ā
Trude forced a light laugh but her eyes avoided Isoldeās searching glance. āWhy, noāat least not in that way. If you like things in a person very much you just have to keep on liking them no matter what happens. And, Issy, it wasnāt his fault that IāI imaginedāhe caredāfor meāā Her voice broke. Isolde gave a quick little cry.
āTrude, you do care! And he isnāt worth the tiniest heartache. He must have led you on to think things. And all the time he was playing with you. It makes me furious! Youāre such an old peach.ā
The āold peachā made no answer. There flashed across her mind all that Isolde had had to say before about this man; every fibre of her being shrank from a repetition that would bring pain as well as humiliation. She straightened.
āWe are a couple of geese to dig all this up now. I was just sentimental enough to hang on to one of the lettersāI suppose itās because they are the only letters Iāve ever had from a manābut I see my mistake now. I will destroy it.ā She slipped the letter into her pocket with the tiniest sigh. āSo there.ā (But the letter was not destroyed.)
āI wish youād meet someone down at the Whitesāāsome perfectly grand man. I should think Uncle Jasper would realizeāā
Isoldeās tone was so tragic that Trude laughed, now with genuine amusement. āI was thinking of some of Uncle Jasperās friends,ā she explained. āThey are mostly nice, fat settled bankers and lawyers, but if any bachelor doctors, tinkers or tailors slip in I promise to flirt desperatelyāā
āTrude, you think I am joking and I am not. If you donāt meet someone at the Whitesā where will you meet him? What chance have you and I, shut up here, to know the kind of men weādāweād like to know? Do you think I enjoy the namby-pamby sort that flock here to sit in Dadās chair? No, indeed. And TrudeāIāmātwenty-six next October! Iāmāan old maid!ā
Before Isoldeās earnestness Trude unknowingly lowered her voice to a soft note. āDo you feel like that, too, Issy? Iāve felt that way often. Iām twenty-four. But Iām not afraid of being an old maidāIāve always sort of known Iād be oneābut I catch myself just longing to do something with my life, differentāas little Sid put it. Then I chastise myself severely for my repinings. Anyway, itāll be fun watching Vickās and Sidās experiences, wonāt it? Bless them, they seem to have escaped our bounds, donāt they?ā
āI am afraid my vicarious enjoyment of their adventures may be tempered with a little jealousy. I am not as noble as you are, Trude. It is hard to think that you and I have to go on sitting still and watching our lives go byāand our one and only life, remember!ā
Trude shook herself a littleāperhaps she was āchastisingā her inner spirit. āCome, we mustnāt get mopey on the eve of a holiday. Theyāre too rare to spoil. And two trunks still to pack. Do you think the Leaguers will mind if we shroud that painting in the living-room. Itās the best thing we own and I hate to have it get too dusty.ā
Isolde lifted her shoulders rebelliously. āI donāt know what has happened to me but, do you know, Trude, I am beginning to think itās the limit that we have to consider the League in even a little thing like that. Thank goodness we are going to have a holiday! But I wonder if the summer will bring anything to any of us.ā
In answer Trude smiled down into the trunk. āWellāitās bringing something to Sid. Rather she went out and got it. And it surely will to Vick, new clothes if nothing more. And I hope it will to you, too, Issy, dear, something grand andācontenting.ā
It was typical of Trude that she did not think of herself.
INDEPENDENCE
āGolly day, but Iām tired!ā
Martie Calkins threw herself on the cool sand of the beach and gave vent to a long breath. Sidney, standing over her, wished she could do likewise with the same picturesque abandon. Mart was so splendidly āI donāt care a hangā; her tumbled hair now was thick with sand, across her tanned face was a smear of black, her shabby blouse was torn and open at the throat exposing her chest to the hot sun, her bare, hard-muscled legs were outstretched, the heels digging into the sand and the grimy toes separating and curling like the tentacles of a crab.
āOh, this is the life,ā she sang. āSit down and make yourself at home. This beachās yours as much as mine I guess.ā
Sidney sat down quickly lest her companion guess how she was tied inside with the innumerable bonds and knots of conventions, century old, which Martie had somehow escaped. Of course Sidney herself did not think it that way; she only knew that she felt ridiculously awkward with Martie Calkins in spite of her growing determination to be just like her.
They had been friends now for two whole weeks, the shortest two weeks Sidney had ever known simply because into them they had crowded so much. She had met Mart the day after her coming to Sunset Lane. Mart had appeared at Aunt Achsaās with some baking soda her grandmother had borrowed two months before. Aunt Achsa had said: āI calālate you two girls better make friends.ā That was so obviously sensible that Sidney quickly put from her the impression that Mart was the āqueerestā girl she had ever met. She had seen queerer but had never talked to them. But Mart was young and frankly friendly and lived next
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