Four Girls at Chautauqua

1841-1930 Pansy

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• Publié par: unno
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 18
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg eBook, Four Girls at
Chautauqua, by Pansy
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Title: Four Girls at Chautauqua
Author: Pansy
Release Date: June 19, 2004 [eBook #12662]
Language: English
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG
EBOOK FOUR GIRLS AT CHAUTAUQUA***
E-text prepared by Joel Erickson, Dave Morgan,
and Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders
Transcriber's note: The original text contained
typographical errors and spelling inconsistencies.
Where possible these have been corrected; manycould not be resolved and remain as they
appeared in the source text.
FOUR GIRLS AT
CHAUTAUQUA
BY
PANSY
Author of "Chautauqua Girls at Home," "Ruth
Erskine's Crosses," "Judge
Burnham's Daughters," "The Hall in The Grove,"
"Eighty-Seven," etc.
1876CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. INTRODUCED. CHAPTER II. THE
QUESTION DISCUSSED. CHAPTER III.
ENTERING THE CURRENT. CHAPTER IV.
FAIRPOINT. CHAPTER V. UNREST. CHAPTER
VI. FEASTS. CHAPTER VII. TABLE TALK.
CHAPTER VIII. "AT EVENING TIME IT SHALL BE
BRIGHT." CHAPTER IX. FLEEING. CHAPTER X.
HOW THE "FLITTING" ENDED. CHAPTER XI.
HEART TOUCHES. CHAPTER XII. FLOSSY AT
SCHOOL. CHAPTER XIII. "CROSS PURPOSES."
CHAPTER XIV. THE NEW LESSON. CHAPTER
XV. GREAT MEN. CHAPTER XVI. WAR OF
WORDS. CHAPTER XVII. GETTING READY TO
LIVE. CHAPTER XVIII. THE SILENT WITNESS.
CHAPTER XIX. AN OLD STORY. CHAPTER XX.
PEOPLE WHO, "HAVING EYES, SEE NOT."
CHAPTER XXI. A "SENSE OF DUTY." CHAPTER
XXII. ONE MINUTE'S WORK. CHAPTER XXIII.
"I'VE BEEN REDEEMED." CHAPTER XXIV.
SWORD THRUSTS. CHAPTER XXV. SERMONS
IN CHALK. CHAPTER XXVI. "THEIR WORKS DO
FOLLOW THEM." CHAPTER XXVII. UNFINISHED
MUSIC. CHAPTER XXVIII. MENTAL PROBLEMS.
CHAPTER XXIX. WAITING. CHAPTER XXX.
SETTLED QUESTIONS. CHAPTER XXXI. THEBEGINNING OF THE END. CHAPTER XXXII. THE
END OF THE BEGINNING.CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCED.
Eurie Mitchell shut the door with a bang and ran up
the stairs two steps at a time. She nearly always
banged doors, and was always in a hurry. She
tapped firmly at the door just at the head of the
stairs; then she pushed it open and entered.
"Are you going?" she said, and her face was all in a
glow of excitement and pleasure.
The young lady to whom she spoke measured the
velvet to see if it was long enough for the hat she
was binding, raised her eyes for just an instant to
the eager face before her, and said "Good-
morning."
"Ruth Erskine! what are you trimming your hat for?
Didn't it suit? Say, are you going? Why in the world
don't you tell me? I have been half wild all the
morning."
Ruth Erskine smiled. "Which question shall I
answer first? What a perfect interrogation point you
are, Eurie. My hats never suit, you know; this one
was worse than usual. This velvet is a pretty
shade, isn't it? Am I going to Chautauqua, do you
mean? I am sure I don't know. I haven't thought
much about it. Do you really suppose it will beworth while?"
Eurie stamped her foot impatiently. "How provoking
you are! Haven't thought of it, and here I have
been talking and coaxing all the morning. Father
thinks it is a wild scheme, of course, and sees no
sense in spending so much money; but I'm going
for all that. I don't have a frolic once in an age, and
I have set my heart on this. Just think of living in
the woods for two whole weeks! camping out, and
doing all sorts of wild things. I'm just delighted."
Miss Erskine sewed thoughtfully for some seconds,
then she said:
"Why, there is nothing in the world to hinder my
going if I want to. As to the money, I suppose one
could hardly spend as much there as at Long
Branch or Saratoga, and of course I should go
somewhere. But the point is, what do I want to go
for?"
"Why, just to be together, and be in the woods,
and live in a tent, and do nothing civilized for a
fortnight. It is the nicest idea that ever was."
"And should we go to the meetings?" Miss Erskine
asked, still speaking thoughtfully, and as if she
were undecided.
"Why, yes, of course, now and then. Though for
that matter I suppose father is right enough when
he says that precious few people go for the sake of
the meetings. He says it is a grand jollification, with
a bit of religion for the background. But for thatmatter the less religion they have the better, and
so I told him."
At this point there was a faint little knock at the
door, and Eurie sprang to open it, saying as she
went: "That is Flossy, I know; she always gives just
such little pussy knocks as that." The little lady who
entered fitted her name perfectly. She was small
and fair, blue-eyed, flossy yellow curls lying on her
shoulders, her voice was small and sweet, almost
too sweet or too soft, that sort of voice that could
change when slight occasion offered into a whine
or positive tearfulness. She was greeted with great
glee by Eurie, and in her more quiet way by Miss
Erskine.
"I'm going," she said, with a soft little laugh, and
she sank down among the cushions of the sofa,
while her white morning dress floated around her
like a cloud. "Charlie thinks it is silly, and Kit thinks
it is sillier, and mamma thinks it is the very silliest
thing I ever did yet; but for all that I am going—that
is, if the rest of you are." Which, by the way, was
always this little Flossy's manner of speech. She
was going to do or not to do, speak or keep silent,
approve or condemn, exactly as the mind which
was for the time being nearest to her chose to
sway her.
"Good!" said Eurie, softly clapping her hands. "I
didn't think it of you, Flossy; I thought you were too
much of a mouse. Now, Ruth, you will go, won't
you? As for Marion, there is no knowing whether
she will go or not. I don't see now she can afford itmyself any more than I can; but, of course, that is
her own concern. We can go anyway, whether she
does or not—only I don't want to, I want her along.
Suppose we all go down and see her; it is
Saturday, she will be at home, and then we can
begin to make our preparations. It is really quite
time we were sure of what we are going to do."
By dint of much coaxing and argument Ruth was
prevailed upon to leave her fascinating brown hat
with its brown velvet trimmings, and in the course
of the next half hour the trio were on their way
down Park Street, intent on a call on Miss Marion
Wilbur. Park Street was a simple, quiet,
unpretending street, narrow and short; the houses
were two-storied and severely plain. In one of the
plainest of these, wearing an unmistakable
boarding-house look, in a back room on the second
floor, the object of their search, in a dark calico
dress, with her sleeves rolled above her elbows,
had her hands immersed in a wash-bowl of suds,
and was doing up linen collars. She was one of
those miserable creatures in this weary world, a
teacher in a graded school, and her one day of rest
was filled with all sorts of washing, ironing and
mending work, until she had fairly come to groan
over the prospect of Saturday because of the
burden of work which it brought. She welcomed her
callers without taking her hands from the suds; she
was as quiet in her way as Ruth Erskine was in
hers.
This time it was Flossy who asked the important
question: "Are you going?"Marion answered as promptly as though the
question had been decided for a week.
"Yes, certainly I am going. I thought I told you that
when we talked it over before. I am washing out
my collars to have them ready. Ruth, are you going
to take a trunk?"
Ruth roused herself from the contemplation of her
brown gloves to say with a little start:
"How you girls do rush things. Why, I haven't
decided yet that I am going."
"Oh, you'll go," Marion Wilbur said. "The question
is, are we to take trunks—or, rather, are you to?
because I know I shall not. I'm going to wear my
black suit. Put it on on Tuesday morning, or
Monday is it that we start? and wear it until we
return. I may take it off, to be sure, while I sleep,
but even that is uncertain, as we may not get a
place to sleep in; but for once in my life I am not
going to be bored with baggage."
"I shall take mine," Ruth Erskine said with
determination. "I don't intend to be bored by being
without baggage. It is horrid, I think, to go away
with only one dress, and feel obliged to wear it
whether it is suited to the weather or not, or
whatever happens to it. Eurie, what are you
laughing at?"
"I am interested in the phenomena of Marion
Wilbur being the first to introduce the dress