Cicely and Other Stories | Page 6

Cicely made it, won Miss
Waite's heart, and when she heard the girl's step in the hall that evening,
she opened the door.
"Come right in," she called, cordially. "I can't spare the roses until after
supper, so you will have to come in and eat with me. You've no idea
how much I have enjoyed them!"
Cicely paused timidly on the threshold. There were the gorgeous
American Beauties in a tall vase in the middle of the table, between
some softly shaded candles. And there was a bright lamp on the open
piano, and a glowing coal fire in the grate. The little table was spread
for two, and a savoury smell of oysters stole out from the chafing-dish
Miss Wade had just uncovered.
"We'll celebrate the New Year together, and drink to our friendship in
good strong coffee," said Miss Waite, lifting the steaming pot from the
hearth. "Draw your chair right up to the table, please, while everything
is hot."
Only one who has been as cold and hungry and homesick as Cicely was,
can know how much that evening meant to her, or how the cheer and
the warmth of it all comforted her lonely little heart. The best of it was
that it was only a beginning, and there were few nights afterward,
during that long winter, when the warmth and light of Miss Waite's
room was not shared for awhile, at least, with the little seamstress.
The roses lasted more than a week; then Miss Waite helped Cicely to
gather up the petals as they fell, and together they packed them away in
a little rose-jar, according to an old recipe that Miss Waite read out of
her grandmother's time-yellowed note-book.
Then Cicely brought Miss Balfour's note.
[Illustration: "THE CHEER AND WARMTH OF IT ALL

COMFORTED HER."]
"I want to preserve this, too," she said, dropping it in among the dried
rose-leaves. "You told me that Rhoda means 'little rose,' and that line,
'Sincerely your friend,' was as sweet to me that day as the flowers
themselves. As long as I live I shall think of her as an 'American
Beauty.'"
She lifted the little rose-jar for one more whiff of its faint, sweet
fragrance, and said, slowly, as she closed it again, "And as long as I
live the thought of her will help to take the sting out of all my thorns."

ALIDA'S HOMELINESS

ALIDA'S HOMELINESS
With a sigh of relief Alida Gooding saw the dentist put away his
instruments. Her nerves seemed all aquiver as she slowly rose and went
into the little dressing-room to put on her hat and coat, and to wait for
the family carriage which was to call for her at this hour.
She was a plain-looking girl of eighteen, with homely, irregular
features, a sallow complexion, and a reserved, haughty manner that
tended to repel all friendly advances. All that clothes could do to
improve a girl's appearance had certainly been done for her. Every part
of her costume, from her fashionable gown to her stylish hat, indicated
wealth and good taste; but the face that looked wistfully back at her
from the little dressing-room mirror was not pretty.
The door into the adjoining parlour was slightly ajar, and she could
hear some one pacing restlessly about, awaiting his turn. "I'll be ready
for you in about three minutes, Charley!" called the dentist from the
inner room; and Alida heard the reply, "No hurry. I want to speak to
one of the boys I see coming down the street."

The voice was a familiar one. She recognised it as belonging to Charley
Jarvis, a friend of her sister. The next instant she heard a window
thrown up, and a shrill whistle sounded out on the snowy air. Peering
cautiously out of the window where she stood watching for the carriage,
she saw another acquaintance, Phil Bently, look up and wave his hand
in response to the whistle. A moment later he came bounding up the
stairs, three steps at a time, and into the adjoining parlour.
"What's up, old fellow?" he asked. "What's wanted now?"
"I've been trying to see you for three days," answered Charley, "but
they told me that you were out of town when I inquired at the office.
Mrs. Lancaster has a pretty little girl visiting her from Alabama, and
she intends to give an old-fashioned valentine party for her
entertainment next week. I am helping with the invitations. Here's the
list of the boys she wants, and each one is to bring one of the girls of
our set as his valentine, in fancy costume, you know. I've seen all the
boys but you and Ben Fuller, and they've chosen the girls they want to
invite."
"Who's left for us?" queried