"A pretty good sort," said Mr. Reeve, smiling. "The sort that makes a man feel old and young at the same time. Ever get any of that?"

"Don't know as I do; it must be a rare specimen," said Mr. Fowler, dryly.

"Better let me know the kind it is; perhaps it will counterbalance the kind I have for you this morning; confound it!"

Seeing that Mr. Fowler was really disturbed about something, Mr. Reeve dropped his bantering tone, and went to serious matters. He then learned that the bookkeeper whom Mr. Fowler had engaged for the new line of business, and who would also act as his confidential clerk and office manager, would be unable to accept the position, as he was called to England by the death of his father, and would in future make his home there. This was a serious loss to Mr. Fowler, for he had known this man for years, and felt deep satisfaction at the thought of having such an efficient a.s.sistant.

"And now," he said, when he had told Mr. Reeve all the facts, "who under heavens am I to find to fill his place at such short notice, I'd like to know? Such men are not to be picked up at every corner."

"Read that letter," was all Mr. Reeve said, and handed him Toinette's letter.

Mr. Fowler took the letter, and began reading with a very mystified expression, as though he could not for the life of him understand what a letter from Mr. Reeve's daughter had to do with his private affairs. But, as he read, his expression changed, and when he came to the end he said: "Well, it may be Kismet; can't say. Funnier things have happened. Look into it, will you, Clayton? I'm sick and tired of the thing, particularly when I thought all important details settled."

And Clayton Reeve did "look into it" very thoroughly, leaving no stone unturned which would help him to learn all that it was necessary to know about Mr. Burgess, and nothing could possibly have been more gratifying than what he learned. As a result of it, Mr. Burgess was offered the position from June first, and the salary offered with it seemed a princely one to him as compared to the one he had received as clerk in the bank in Montcliff. It would be hard to understand the happiness which that schoolgirl letter brought to one family, or how the writing of it changed two lives very materially, and a third completely.

CHAPTER XXIX

COMMENCEMENT

Many a girl has asked: "Why do they call it commencement when it is really the end?" If they have not found out why, I am not going to tell the secret. But one thing I have found out is this: Never in after life do we ever feel _quite_ so important as we do when that day has been reached upon our life's calendar.

It was no exception at Sunny Bank, and when the fifth of June dawned that year it found a busy, bustling household. No, I am not telling the exact truth: it was not when it _dawned_, but fully three hours later, and then began the hurry-scurry which continued till all were a.s.sembled in chapel to listen to the opening prayer of the good man who had for many a year opened the Sunny Bank commencement exercises.

He had grown old in faithful service in Montcliff, and was beloved and revered by all.

It is of no use for me to tell you all about those exercises; to an outsider they were exactly like many others that had taken place before; to the girls themselves they were unique, and stood out pre-eminent above all others. Everybody was there who had the smallest excuse for being, and just how happy six bodies were I will leave you to learn from what follows.

The exercises were to take place in the evening, and all day long relatives and friends of the girls arrived thick and fast. Among the first was Toinette's father. "Couldn't wait till evening, you see," he cried, as he met Toinette at the railway station. "Yes, it is all settled; I got them by a lucky chance at the very last moment."

"Did you say anything to Mr. Burgess about it?" asked Toinette.

"No, I have not seen him; daresay he has had his hands full since the first. We'll speak to Miss Preston first, and then call at the Burgess'

and tell them."

"How perfectly splendid! Oh, daddy, you are a perfect wonder! How do you ever manage to fetch things about so successfully?"

"Because I have found a wonderful incentive to spur me on," he answered as he handed her into the carriage which was waiting for them, and they whirled off up the hill.

"And you will stay here till after the wedding, won't you?" asked Toinette, snuggling close to his side and slipping her arm through his.

"What! Five whole days? What will you do with me all that time?"

"No danger of your suffering from ennui, I guess," laughed Toinette. "I will guarantee to keep you occupied. And then, daddy, after all is over we'll go off together, and won't we have glorious times!" and she gave a rapturous little bounce at the thought of the delightful days to come.

Miss Preston was to sail for Europe on the fifteenth of June, five days after Miss Howard's wedding, and six girls were to go with her. When it became an understood thing that Mr. Burgess' financial affairs were to be so improved, the possibility of Helen making one of the party was talked over, although Mrs. Burgess was filled with dismay at the thought of having her daughter take such a step upon such short notice; it seemed a tremendous thing to that quiet, home-staying body. Still, Miss Preston had long been anxious to have Helen go with her, and, now that there seemed no further obstacle to her doing so, could not make up her mind to go without her.

She had talked it over with both Mr. and Mrs. Burgess, but, it must be confessed, had met with only lukewarm enthusiasm. Furthermore, it was very late in the day to secure stateroom accommodation upon the steamer by which Miss Preston would sail, her own and the girls having been engaged for weeks.

Helen herself said very little, but Miss Preston knew that the girl's heart had long been set upon going, and this year the route planned took in the very points she had most wished to visit, and which would prove the most profitable for her to visit. In desperation, Miss Preston turned to Mr. Reeve once more, for she had found him a most resourceful man, and one not likely to be easily baffled.

The result was that he had succeeded in making a mutually agreeable exchange of staterooms with some other people, and was now primed and ready to carry the war into the enemy's country.

Soon after luncheon they all drove to Stonybrook, a town about ten miles from Montcliff, and Helen's home. Evidently their persuasive powers were strong, for ere the visit ended it was decided that Helen should make one of Miss Preston's party to sail with her "over the ocean blue," and some very happy people drove back to Montcliff that afternoon.

The house seemed very quiet after the girls' departure for their homes on the day following commencement, for, excepting those who lived too far away to return for the wedding, and would remain as Miss Preston's guests until after the tenth, all had left that morning, and when a house has been filled with twenty-five or thirty girls, and all but eight or ten suddenly depart from it, the quiet which ensues cannot be overlooked.

Mr. Reeve gave himself up to the enjoyment of his five days' vacation as only a busy man can, and when I add that he was a very happy man, too, I need say no more.

The year had been one of many experiences both for him and for Toinette, and for both was ending far more happily than he had hoped it would. The future seemed to promise a great deal to them both, for they were growing to understand each other better every day, and Toinette was developing into a very lovely, as well as a very lovable, companion. They had planned a delightful summer vacation, to be spent in travelling leisurely from place to place, as the fancy took them, and Toinette had suggested nearly all.

The five days at Montcliff were spent in driving about the beautiful country, playing tennis, rambling about the pretty woods, and doing an endless number of delightful nothings, as people can sometimes do when they fully make up their minds to put aside the cares of the world for a time.

They soon came to an end, and then came Miss Howard's wedding day.

There has always seemed something inexpressibly sweet in Longfellow's words in reference to the forming of new ties and establishing the new home. In Miss Howard's case it was to be a home filled with all the sweetest hopes that can come into a woman's life: hopes sanctified by love and founded upon respect. Could they have a firmer foundation? The future held great promise for her, although worldly-minded folk might say that the step she was about to take was not marked off by a _golden_ mile-stone, nor the path she would follow be paved with a golden pavement.

She knew that quite well, and had wisely decided that a n.o.ble character and a brilliant mind were excellent subst.i.tutes, however agreeable it may be to have the former, and, also, that the former minus the latter are fairy gold.

CHAPTER x.x.x

"O FORTUNATE, O HAPPY DAY"

"O fortunate, O happy day, When a new household finds its place Among the myriad homes of earth, Like a new star just sprung to birth, And rolled on its harmonious way Into the boundless realms of s.p.a.ce!"

As though all that was loveliest had united to do her honor, and make the boundary-line between the old and the new life one to be long remembered by all who stood beside her at it, the day set for Miss Howard's wedding was all that Lowell has written about it. It was as "rare" and "perfect"

as dear Mother Nature could make it for one of her loveliest children.

The girls had dressed the church, until it seemed a very bower of bloom, and at every turn Miss Howard would find the posies of which she was so fond. The three colors, if white may be called a color, chosen for the bridesmaids' dresses were used in the decorations, and altar, chancel, transept and aisles were brilliant with daffodils, narcissuses and lilacs, which filled the church with their perfume.

The wedding was to take place at four o'clock, and when that hour arrived little s.p.a.ce was left in the church for the tardy ones.

Nearly all the girls had returned for the ceremony, and a bonnier lot it would have been difficult to find than that which filled the front pews of the church, for Miss Howard would have them all near her, insisting that none of the other guests could possibly have the same loving thoughts for her that her girls would have.

Promptly at the stroke of four the great organ rolled out its message to all, and, after her few distant relatives had been conducted to their seats, Miss Howard's bonny bridesmaids appeared, following another fancy of hers by walking together, with the ushers leading. First came Edith and Marie; Edith's yellow golden hair a perfect background for the big white chip hat, with its ma.s.ses of violets, and her fair, soft skin made softer and fairer by the fairy-like chiffon draped so artistically over the pale violet satin beneath it. A daintily gilded basket filled with violets told all the story.

Saucy and pert beside her walked the little brownie Marie, looking for all the world like the bobbing daffies in her white basket. One wanted to sing the old nursery rhyme: "Daffy-down-dilly has come to town," for they were nodding a friendly greeting from her hat, and seemed to lend their golden sheen to the satin beneath the white chiffon gown.

Behind them followed May Foster and Natala King. May's bronze-brown hair and brilliant coloring were a perfect foil for the creamy-white narcissus blossoms on her hat and the creamy-white of her gown. While Natala's light-brown hair and hazel eyes needed just the lilac tints to show how pretty they were.

Then came Ruth and Helen. Could Miss Howard have chosen two who, placed beside each other, would have formed a more p.r.o.nounced contrast? Not even the solemnity of the occasion could overcome Ruth's ruling pa.s.sion, curiosity: she was determined to see all to be seen if it rested with her to do so. Nor were the pert pansy blossoms upon her hat, nodding a welcome to all, more on the alert. Or could those which peeped from the folds of her pansy-yellow gown, with its white chiffon draperies, smile in a more friendly manner than did Ruth, as she walked slowly up that aisle, with shy, modest Helen at her side. Helen looked the snowdrop to perfection, for if the pansies needed Ruth's gypsy coloring for a foil, the snowdrops needed Helen's pale blonde daintiness for theirs. The only color which relieved its pure white was the deep green of the wax-like leaves, and the contrast was perfect. The dress was of that soft silvery white only to be contrived by the combination of satin and chiffon, and Helen looked very lovely.

Behind them, a dream of fairness, walked Toinette. Through the chiffon of her gown ran fine golden threads, which caused it to glint and glisten as the sunbeams. The white satin underneath was of that peculiar ivory tint which combines so exquisitely with gold tints. Her hat was made of the chiffon, and trimmed with Easter lilies, which nestled in its soft folds and against the beautiful golden hair beneath them. Her basket was also white, and she was a fitting emblem of the pure soul she was leading to the altar.