Grace Harlowes Problem | Page 8

spoke. "Don't you remember how I worried about finding my work, and it walked directly up to me and introduced itself on Commencement day?"
"I never dreamed that the stage would put me through college and be my work afterward," broke in Anne. "When first I went to Oakdale I supposed I had left it behind forever. But it must have been my destiny after all."
"I guess it's just about as well in the long run not to worry about what your work is going to be until it knocks at your door," observed Elfreda. "Children are always planning and talking about what they're going to do and be when they grow up; then they always do something different. What do you suppose I used to say I was going to be when I grew up?"
"Some perfectly absurd thing," anticipated Miriam. Eight pairs of amused eyes fixed themselves expectantly on Elfreda.
"Well," Elfreda chuckled reminiscently, "my aim and ambition was to be a cook. Not because I was so deeply in love with cooking, but because I liked to eat. No wonder I was fat. I used to haunt the kitchen on baking days and shriek with an outraged stomach afterward. The shrieking occurred most frequently in the middle of the night. Then Ma would come to my rescue, and I'd be forbidden to sample the baking again. So to console myself in my banishment I'd resolve that when I grew up I'd be a cook and live in a kitchen all the time. I reasoned that if I was a cook I'd know how to make everything in the world to eat and could have what I pleased. Besides no one would dare tell me I couldn't have this or that. This was all very consoling during the times I had to keep out of the kitchen. Generally in about a week's time Ma would relent, and, as our cook was fond of me, I'd be reinstated in my beloved realm of eats. But it was during these periods of exile that my ambition always rose to fever heat. Then our old cook got married, and I didn't like our new one. She didn't appreciate my companionship on baking days. Our old cook had always encouraged me in my ambition. She used to tell me long tales about the places where she had worked and the cooking feats she had performed. The new cook said I was a nuisance, and complained to Ma. So my ambition died for lack of encouragement, but my appetite didn't. I became an outlaw instead and made raids on the baking. So that particular cook and I were always at war. About that time Ma began giving me a regular allowance, so I haunted the baker and candy shops instead of the kitchen, and the cook idea declined. In fact all I know about cooking now, I learned at Wayne Hall, in the interest of my friends," she finished.
Elfreda's reminiscence awoke a train of sleeping memories in the minds of the others, and for the next hour the quiet woodland echoed with their mirth over the curious, quaint and ridiculous aims and fancies of their childhood. The talk gradually drifted back to serious things and went on so earnestly that it was well after four o'clock before the party began to make reluctant preparations to return to the cottage.
"It has been a perfect day and a perfect picnic," declared Grace as she smiled lovingly at her friends. "We'll never forget Elfreda's house party."
"I'm going to have you with me at this time every year if it is possible," planned Elfreda. "So when September comes next year just mark off the last two weeks on the calendar as set aside for the Briggs' reunion and arrange your affairs accordingly. Is it a go?"
"Hurrah for the Briggs' reunion," cheered Arline.
The cheers were given and the picnickers started up the hill to where their automobiles were stationed. Grace and Elfreda brought up the rear with the luncheon hamper.
"That's dear in you to ask us here every year, Elfreda," said Grace. "It's a splendid way for us always to keep in touch with one another. You are forever doing nice things for others."
"Others," retorted Elfreda, gruffly. "I'm the most selfish person that ever lived. I'm not planning half so much to make you girls happy as I am to be happy myself. Every time I think that I might have gone to some other college and never have known you and Miriam and Anne, it nearly gives me nervous prostration. By the way, Grace, I have an idea Miriam is going to find her work pretty suddenly. I could see at commencement that Mr. Southard was in love with her. She didn't know it then. She knows it now though,