We Girls: a Home StoryWhitney, A. D. T. (Adeline Dutton Train)
General
We Girls: a Home Story
Whitney, A. D. T. (Adeline Dutton Train)
Families -- Fiction; Young women -- United States -- Fiction
"Right off. Harry is under orders, you know. And they may hardly
ever be so nice again. And--if we _are_ going through the world
together--mightn't we as well begin to go?"
"Why, Barbara, you take my breath away! But then you always do! What
is it?"
"It's the Katahdin, fitting out at New York to join the European
squadron. Commander Shapleigh is a great friend of Harry's; his wife
and daughter are in New York, going out, by Southampton steamer, when
the frigate leaves, to meet him there. They would take me, he says;
and--that's what Harry wants, mother. There'll be a little while
first,--as much, perhaps, as we should ever have."
"Barbara, my darling! But you've nothing ready!"
"No, I suppose not. I never do have. Everything is an emergency with
me; but I always emerge! I can get things in London," she added.
"Everybody does."
The end of it was that Mrs. Holabird had to catch her breath again, as
mothers do; and that Barbara is getting ready to be married just as
she does everything else.
Rose has some nice things--laid away, new; she always has; and mother
has unsuspected treasures; and we all had new silk dresses for
Leslie's wedding, and Ruth had a bright idea about that.
"I'm as tall as either of you, now," she said; "and we girls are all
of a size, as near as can be, mother and all; and we'll just wear the
dresses once more, you see, and then put them right into Barbara's
trunk. They'll be all the bonnier and luckier for her, I know. We can
get others any time."
We laughed at her at first; but we came round afterward to think that
it was a good plan. Rosamond's silk was a lovely violet, and Ruth's
was blue; Barbara's own was pearly gray; we were glad, now, that no
two of us had dressed alike. The violet and the gray had been chosen
because of our having worn quiet black-and-white all summer for
grandfather. We had never worn crape; or what is called "deep"
mourning. "You shall never do that," said mother, "till the deep
mourning comes. Then you will choose for yourselves."
We have had more time than we expected. There has been some beautiful
delay or other about machinery,--the Katahdin's, that is; and
Commander Shapleigh has been ever so kind. Harry has been back and
forth to New York two or three times. Once he took Stephen with him;
Steve stayed at Uncle John's; but he was down at the yard, and on
board ships, and got acquainted with some midshipmen; and he has quite
made up his mind to try to get in at the Naval Academy as soon as he
is old enough, and to be a navy officer himself.
We are comfortable at home; not hurried after all. We are determined
not to be; last days are too precious,
"Don't let's be all taken up with 'things,'" says Barbara. "I can
_buy_ 'things' any time. But now,--I want you!"
Aunt Roderick's present helped wonderfully. It was magnanimous of her;
it was coals of fire. We should have believed she was inspired,--or
possessed,--but that Ruth went down to Boston with her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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