Marriage -- Fiction; Runaway husbands -- Fiction; Social settlements -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
Good-hearted Mrs. Toland could be nothing less than kind to any young
girl, and Julia's place at table was next to the kindly old doctor, who
only saw an extremely pretty girl, and joked with her, and looked out
for her comfort in true fatherly fashion. Julia carried herself with
great dignity, said very little, being in truth quite overawed and
nervously anxious not to betray herself, and after the first frightened
half-hour she enjoyed the adventure thoroughly.
The evening rehearsal went much better, a final rehearsal was set for
Sunday, and Julia was driven to the ten o'clock boat in the station
omnibus, which smelled of leather and wet straw. She sat yawning in the
empty ferry building, smiling over her recollection of dinner at the
Tolands': the laughter, the quarrels, the joyous confusion of voices.
Suddenly struck by the deserted silence of the waiting-room, Julia
jumped up and went to the ticket office.
"Isn't there a train at 10:03?"
The station agent yawned, eyed her with pleasant indifference.
"No train now until 12:20, lady," said he.
For a moment Julia was staggered. Then she thought of the telephone.
A few minutes later she climbed out of the station omnibus again, this
time to be warmly welcomed into the Tolands' lamp-lighted drawing-room.
Barbara and her mother were still at the yacht club, but the old doctor
himself was eagerly apologetic. Doctor Studdiford, Ned, and Richie added
their cheerful questions and regrets to the hospitable hubbub, and
Sally, who had been at the piano, singing Scotch ballads to her father,
took possession of Julia with heartening and obvious pleasure.
Sally took her upstairs, lighted a small but exquisitely appointed guest
room, found a stiffly embroidered nightgown, a wrapper of dark-blue
Japanese crepe, and a pair of straw slippers. Julia, inwardly trembling
with excitement, was outwardly calm as she got ready for bed; she hung
her clothes in a closet delightfully redolent of pine, and brushed and
braided her splendid hair. Sally whisked about on various errands, and
presently Mrs. Toland bustled in, brimful of horrified apologies and
regrets, and Barbara dawdled after, rolling her belt and starched stock,
generally unhooking and unbuttoning.
Perhaps the haughty Barbara found the round-eyed, golden-haired girl in
a blue wrapper a little more companionable than the dreadful Miss Page,
or perhaps she was a little too lonely to-night to be fastidious in her
choice of a confidante. At all events, she elected to wander in and out
of Julia's room while she undressed, and presently sat on Julia's bed,
and braided her dark hair. And if the whole adventure had excited Julia,
she was doubly excited now, frantic to win Barbara's friendship,
nervously afraid to try.
"You're an actress, Miss Page?" asked Barbara, scowling at her
hairbrush.
"Will be, I guess! I've had dozens of chances to sign up already, but
Mama don't want me to be in any rush."
The other girl eyed her almost enviously.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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