"Cotton stockings will be the appropriate things to wear at camp," was the last thought Helen had. "I don't see how I could spend the summer in town after the oath I have taken. I couldn't show my face, or rather my feet, on the street."

CHAPTER VI.

THE RECONSTRUCTION.

"Helen, I actually slept all night."

"So did I. If any one had told me I could sleep a wink, I would have been furious. I wish we could hear from Father. You saw Cousin Lizzie felt just exactly as I did about that Dr. Wright. He may be all right and he may be all wrong. If he is all wrong, couldn't he make us dance, though? He could sell us out, lock, stock and barrel, pocket the proceeds and skidoo."

"Oh, Helen, how can you even give such a horrid idea a moment's lodgement in your mind? Dr. Wright is as good as he looks, I am sure. He certainly looks kind and honest."

"Well, he ought to be honest he is so ugly."

The girls were still in bed, which they had shared ever since they had been promoted from cradles. It was Sat.u.r.day morning and the day before had been the one of trial.

"Father likes him a lot and trusts him."

"Ye--s, I know--but then, you see----"

"Yes, I see he is a very fine young man who thought, and quite rightly, that we had been blindly selfish and heartless to let Father work so hard; and he let us know what he thought of us and it got your goat."

"Is that the way you are going to express yourself in your B. M. exams?

Because if it is, you will win a scholarship surely."

"If I only could!... Come in!" in answer to a knock at the door.

"Telegraph fer you, Miss Douglas. I hope an' trus' 'tain't no bad news 'bout yo' maw and paw," said the housemaid, bringing in a dreaded yellow envelope. "Uncle Oscar, he dreamed 'bout aigs las' night an' they was whole an' entire, an' all de dream books say dat it is a sho' sign an'

symbol er trouble. De trouble is in de sh.e.l.l an' time alone will hatch it out."

"Well, this is good news, Susan," laughed Douglas as she quickly scanned the message: "'Your father and mother slept well and are now enjoying breakfast at Pennsylvania Station. Will see you this evening. George Wright.'"

"Well, Glory be! It can't be Mr. Carter what the bad luck is layin' fer.

I 'low it is dat lo' down n.i.g.g.e.r Jim, Uncle Oscar's sister's step-son, what got stuck in de lonesome ribs by a frien' at meetin' las' Sunday with one er these here unsafety razors," and Susan took herself off to give out in the kitchen that no doubt Jim was going to die, since Mr.

Carter was improving.

"Now, Helen, don't you think Dr. Wright is very thoughtful? You just said you wished we could hear from Father."

"He does seem to think of lots of things. I couldn't help admiring him for the way he got the drawing room for them and put them on the train at the downtown station to keep them from having to see so many people.

That night train is always full of people we know and they all of them get on at Elba. I bet you he got his telegram in ten words, though. I know he is economical and would die rather than spill over. Let me see it. Humph! Nineteen words. I wonder he didn't send it collect."

"Oh, Helen! How can you be so hard on the poor young man? I believe you are just pretending to hate him so. I am glad it is Sat.u.r.day and no school. I think we had better go see real estate agents the first thing this morning and try to rent our house furnished for the summer. I am pretty sure Dr. Wright would approve of that. And also see about selling the car."

"Selling the car! Why, Douglas, how on earth will we do without it?"

"Of course we must sell it. Helen Carter, I actually believe you think that if you give up wearing silk stockings for a year we can live on your resolution. Do you realize that the cash we have in bank would just about pay the chauffeur and keep us in gasoline for a month?"

"Oh, I am such a dunce! I am afraid my being poor has a kind of musical comedy effect in my mind so far. What are you going to do with me, Douglas?"

"Nothing, honey, but you must not get angry with me when I call you down about money. I feel so responsible somehow."

"Angry with you! Why, I think you are just splendid, and I am going to be so careful I just know you will never have to call me down."

Douglas smiled, knowing very well that Helen and economy were not meant to dwell together.

"There is only one thing I am going to make all of you promise, that is NOT TO CHARGE," with great emphasis.

"Oh, of course not after we get started, but how are we to get our outfits for the mountains? Our khaki skirts and leggins and things that are appropriate? And then the cotton stockings that I have sworn to wear until Father is well! I have to have a new set of them. Ugh! how I hate 'em!"

"But, Helen, we have our Camp-Fire outfits that are thoroughly suitable for what we are going to do. There are loads of middy blouses in the house, so I am sure we need buy no more of them. As for stockings--it seems to me you had better wear out what stockings you have, even if they are silk, before you buy any more."

"Never! You don't seem to understand the significance of my oath. When a pilgrim of old swore to put on sackcloth and travel to some distant shrine, he didn't say he would not go to the expense of sackcloth since he had plenty of velvet suits on hand, did he now? No! He went and bought some sackcloth if he didn't happen to have any in the house and gave his velvet suits to the poor or had his hand-maidens pack them up in frankincense and myrrh or something until he got back----"

"All right! All right! But please don't give away anything to the poor.

If Cousin Lizzie should hear of your doing such a thing she would certainly say: 'Charity begins at home.'"

"I won't give them away if you think I shouldn't, but I'd like to put temptation out of my reach. I hope we can get off to the mountains real soon as I am sure I have no desire to flaunt my penance in the face of the Richmond public. Don't you think, Douglas, that I might have the fifty-nine cents that is in the bank so things will balance better, and with fifty-nine cents I can get three pair of sixteen-and-two-third-cent stockings? I'll bring back the nine cents change." Helen was quite solemn in her request, but Douglas was forced to laugh at her lugubrious countenance.

"Yes, dear, if you really feel so strongly about the cotton stockings.

Haven't you any money at all in your purse? I have a little, I believe."

"Well, I never thought of that! Sure I have!" and Helen sprang out of bed, where they were still lolling while the above conversation was going on, and hunted wildly in a very much mussed drawer for her silver mesh bag. "Hurrah! Three paper dollars and a pile of chicken feed silver! I can get cotton stockings for a centipede with that much money."

It was a very pretty room that Douglas and Helen Carter shared. Robert Carter had brought to bear all the experience he had gained in building other persons' houses to make his own house perfect. It was not a very large house but every detail had been thought out so not one brick was amiss. Convenience and Beauty were not sacrificed to one another but went hand in hand. The girls loved their room with its dainty pink paper and egg-sh.e.l.l paint. They had not been in the house long enough for the novelty to wear off, as it was only about a year old. As Douglas lay in her luxurious bed while Helen, being up in search of money, took first bath, she thought of the bitterness of having strangers occupy their room. How often she had lain in that soft, comfortable nest and fancied that it must be like the heart of a pink rose. And the charming private bath-room must be given up, too.

She could hear Helen splashing away, evidently enjoying her morning shower as she was singing with many trills and folderols, trying seemingly to hear herself above the noise of the running water.

"Poor Helen!" thought Douglas. "It is harder, somehow, for her than any of us. Lucy is young enough to learn the new trick of being poor very easily, and Nan is such a philosopher; and dear little Bobby won't see the difference just so he can have plenty of mud to play in; and I--oh, well--I have got so much to do I can't think about myself--I must get up and do it, too. Here I am selfishly lying in bed when I know Nan and Lucy want to hear the news from Father just as much as I did." So, slipping on a kimono, she ran into the room across the hall, shared by the two younger girls.

They were up and almost dressed. "Lucy and I thought maybe we could help, so we hurried. I know you've lots to do," said Nan.

"That was dear of you both. Of course we won't have so much to do right now, as we have to wait for Dr. Wright to come home; and then if we can rent the house furnished, we must get everything in order. But first listen to the good news!" and she read the telegram.

"Isn't that splendid and wasn't it kind of Dr. Wright to send it to you?"

"I think so. If only Helen would not feel so unkindly to him! She utterly refuses to like him," and Douglas sighed.

"I don't intend to like him either, then!" exclaimed Lucy. "He shan't boss me if he isn't going to boss Helen."

"How absurd you are," laughed Nan. "You are so afraid that Helen will get something you don't have that you won't even let her have a private little dislike without wanting to have some, too. I bet if Helen got the smallpox you would think yourself abused if you didn't get it, too."

"And in your heart of hearts you know you do like him," said Douglas with a severity that she felt such silliness warranted.

"Well, if I do--and--and--maybe I do, I'm not going to take anything off of him that Helen won't."

"Well, I reckon Dr. Wright will be glad to wash his hands of us, anyhow," said Nan. "I can't see that it would be any sweet boon to look after you and Helen or any of us, for that matter."