Cicely and Other Stories | Page 7

Phil. "Let me see the list a minute. Nannie
Mason," he read, slowly. "No wonder she was left to the last; she's such
a silly little thing and does nothing but giggle. Alida Gooding! Jarvis,
you haven't left me much choice. Alida's the homeliest girl in town. It
is a pity that she is so ugly when her sister May is such a beauty. Now
if it were only May who was one of the left-overs, I'd jump at the
chance. Any fellow would be proud to take her."
"But you see," interrupted Charley, with a tantalising drawl, "May is
my valentine. Come on, now, which do you choose--Nannie or Alida?
Ben is good-natured; he'll take whoever is left."
"Well, then--Nannie," said Phil, in a martyrlike tone. "Ben can escort
the comic valentine."
"Oh, I say, Bently," exclaimed his friend, "you needn't talk about the
girl that way! She can't help being so plain!"

"That's so. It's brutal of me, and I'm sorry I said that. But she might at
least be jolly," answered Phil. "You wouldn't want to take a girl that
wasn't even--"
Alida did not hear the rest of the sentence. The moment that she
realised they were talking about her, she had begun to struggle into her
coat in order to leave. Without looking into the mirror,--her eyes were
too full of tears to see, even if she had done so,--she pinned on her hat
and hurried out into the hall. The coupé had just drawn up at the
curbstone, and with a curt order to the coachman to drive home as
rapidly as possible, she sank down on the cushions, shrinking back
from the carriage windows.
Mortified by the cruelly careless speech that she had overheard, she
gave herself up to an uncontrollable fit of crying. "I know that I've
always been uh-uh-ugly," she sobbed, "but I never knew before that
people felt and talked that way about me! I'll never show my face
outside of the house again, and Ben Fuller shall certainly be spared the
mortification of escorting a 'comic valentine' to Mrs. Lancaster's party.
Oh, I would rather be dead than so homely and unattractive!"
She was still sobbing when she reached the house, and stood shivering
on the steps in the chill February wind while she waited for the front
door to open. A cheerful wood fire blazed in the fireplace in the wide
reception hall. A bowl of hothouse violets greeted her with their
fragrant springlike odour; but heedless of the luxurious warmth and
cheer that pervaded the house, she hurried up-stairs, with the gloom of
the cloudy winter day in her tear-stained face.
"Lunch is served, Miss Alida," said the maid, meeting her in the upper
hall.
"Tell mamma that I don't want any," she answered, passing into her
own room. "I'm going to lie down. My head aches, and I do not wish to
be disturbed by any one."
A slight expression of annoyance crossed Mrs. Gooding's handsome
face. She and May were alone at lunch, and when the servant had left

the room she said impatiently to May: "I particularly wanted Alida to
go out with us this afternoon to call on Mrs. Lancaster's guest. She
takes so little interest in people outside the family, and it really
mortifies me to see how silent and stiff she is in company. She always
has some excuse to stay at home. She can never overcome her reticence
unless she goes out more. Oh, May, I wish she were more like you!"
As Alida lay up-stairs, battling with her tears and a throbbing headache,
a note was brought to her. It was from Ben Fuller, asking her to be his
valentine at Mrs. Lancaster's party. By this time she had worked herself
up to such a state of morbid sensitiveness that she could not even write
a gracious refusal. It was so curt and cool that Ben gave a low whistle
of surprise when he received it.
"I shall never ask her to go anywhere again!" was his mental comment,
as he tossed the note into the fire.
All the rest of the week Alida stayed in her room as much as possible.
Phil Bently's speech so rankled in her mind that she could take no
pleasure in anything, not even in the making of May's costume, in
which all the family were interested. It was an odd affair--a white silk
gown dotted with red hearts and bordered with dozens of old-fashioned
lace-paper valentines, with their bright array of cupids and doves and
flowers; and to May it was most becoming.
"Where did you ever get all the things to put on it?" asked her father as
she slowly revolved before him the night of the party.
"Oh, I saved them as