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he did not blame her mother, but he did. His wife met him at the door.
“Did you see anything of Elnora?” she questioned.
“Most too much, Maggie,” he answered. “What do you say to going to town? There's a few things has to be got right away.”
“Where did you see her, Wesley?”
“Along the old Limberlost trail, my girl, torn to pieces sobbing. Her courage always has been fine, but the thing she met to-day was too much for her. We ought to have known better than to let her go that way. It wasn't only clothes; there were books, and entrance fees for out-of-town people, that she didn't know about; while there must have been jeers, whispers, and laughing. Maggie, I feel as if I'd been a traitor to those girls of ours. I ought to have gone in and seen about this school business. Don't cry, Maggie. Get me some supper, and I'll hitch up and see what we can do now.”
“What can we do, Wesley?
“I don't just know. But we've got to do something. Kate Comstock will be a handful, while Elnora will be two, but between us we must see that the girl is not too hard pressed about money, and that she is dressed so she is not ridiculous. She's saved us the wages of a woman many a day, can't you make her some decent dresses?”
“Well, I'm not just what you call expert, but I could beat Kate Comstock all to pieces. I know that skirts should be pleated to the band instead of gathered, and full enough to sit in, and short enough to walk in. I could try. There are patterns for sale. Let's go right away, Wesley.”
“Set me a bit of supper, while I hitch up.”
Margaret built a fire, made coffee, and fried ham and eggs. She set out pie and cake and had enough for a hungry man by the time the carriage was at the door, but she had no appetite. She dressed while Wesley ate, put away the food while he dressed, and then they drove toward the city through the beautiful September evening, and as they went they planned for Elnora. The trouble was, not whether they were generous enough to buy what she needed, but whether she would accept their purchases, and what her mother would say.
They went to a drygoods store and when a clerk asked what they wanted to see neither of them knew, so they stepped aside and held a whispered consultation.
“What had we better get, Wesley?”
“Dresses,” said Wesley promptly,
“But how many dresses, and what kind?”
“Blest if I know!” exclaimed Wesley. “I thought you would manage that. I know about some things I'm going to get.”
At that instant several high school girls came into the store and approached them.
“There!” exclaimed Wesley breathlessly. “There, Maggie! Like them! That's what she needs! Buy like they have!”
Margaret stared. What did they wear? They were rapidly passing; they seemed to have so much, and she could not decide so quickly. Before she knew it she was among them.
“I beg your pardon, but won't you wait one minute?” she asked.
The girls stopped with wondering faces.
“It's your clothes,” explained Mrs. Sinton. “You look just beautiful to me. You look exactly as I should have wanted to see my girls. They both died of diphtheria when they were little, but they had yellow hair, dark eyes and pink cheeks, and everybody thought they were lovely. If they had lived, they'd been near your age now, and I'd want them to look like you.”
There was sympathy on every girl face.
“Why thank you!” said one of them. “We are very sorry for you.”
“Of course you are,” said Margaret. “Everybody always has been. And because I can't ever have the joy of a mother in thinking for my girls and buying pretty things for them, there is nothing left for me, but to do what I can for some one who has no mother to care for her. I know a girl, who would be just as pretty as any of you, if she had the clothes, but her mother does not think about her, so I mother her some myself.”
“She must be a lucky girl,” said another.
“Oh, she loves me,” said Margaret, “and I love her. I want her to look just like you do. Please tell me about your clothes. Are these the dresses and hats you wear to school? What kind of goods are they, and where do you buy them?”
The girls began to laugh and cluster around Margaret. Wesley strode down the store with his head high through pride in her, but his heart was sore over the memory of two little faces under Brushwood sod. He inquired his way to the shoe department.
“Why, every one of us have on gingham or linen dresses,” they said, “and they are our school clothes.”
For a few moments there was a babel of laughing voices explaining to the delighted Margaret that school dresses should be bright and pretty, but simple and plain, and until cold weather they should wash.
“I'll tell you,” said Ellen Brownlee, “my father owns this store, I know all the clerks. I'll take you to Miss Hartley. You tell her just how much you want to spend, and what you want to buy, and she will know how to get the most for your money. I've heard papa say she was the best clerk in the store for people who didn't know precisely what they wanted.”
“That's the very thing,” agreed Margaret. “But before you go, tell me about your hair. Elnora's hair is bright and wavy, but yours is silky as hackled flax. How do you do it?”
“Elnora?” asked four girls in concert.
“Yes, Elnora is the name of the girl I want these things for.”
“Did she come to the high school to-day?” questioned one of them.
“Was she in your classes?” demanded Margaret without reply.
Four girls stood silent and thought fast. Had there been a strange girl among them, and had she been overlooked and passed by with indifference, because she was so very shabby? If she had appeared as much better than they, as she had looked worse, would her reception have been the same?
“There was a strange girl from the country in the Freshman class to-day,” said Ellen Brownlee, “and her name was Elnora.”
“That was the girl,” said Margaret.
“Are her people so very poor?” questioned Ellen.
“No, not poor at all, come to think of it,” answered Margaret. “It's a peculiar case. Mrs. Comstock had a great trouble and she let it change her whole life and make a different woman of her. She used to be lovely; now she is forever saving and scared to death for fear they will go to the poorhouse; but there is a big farm, covered with lots of good timber. The taxes are high for women who can't manage to clear and work the land. There ought to be enough to keep two of them in good shape all their lives, if they only knew how to do it. But no one ever told Kate Comstock anything, and never will, for she won't listen. All she does is droop all day, and walk the edge of the swamp half the night, and neglect Elnora. If you girls would make life just a little easier for her it would be the finest thing you ever did.”
All of them promised they would.
“Now tell me about your hair,” persisted Margaret Sinton.
So they took her to a toilet counter, and she bought the proper hair soap, also a nail file, and cold cream, for use after windy days. Then they left her with the experienced clerk, and when at last Wesley found her she was loaded with bundles and the light of other days was in her beautiful eyes. Wesley also carried some packages.
“Did you get any stockings?” he whispered.
“No, I didn't,” she said. “I was so interested in dresses and hair ribbons and a—a hat——” she hesitated and glanced at Wesley. “Of course, a hat!” prompted Wesley. “That I forgot all about those horrible shoes. She's got to have decent shoes, Wesley.”
“Sure!” said Wesley. “She's got decent