We Girls: A Home Story by Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney
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Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney >> We Girls: A Home Story
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"You came pretty near securing that it _shouldn't_ come," said
Rosamond, "after all."
"I couldn't help that; it wasn't my part of the affair."
"You might have just kept quiet, as you were before," said Rose.
"Wait and see," said Barbara, concisely. "People shouldn't come
bringing things in their hands. It's just like going down stairs to
get these presents. The very minute I see a corner of one of those
white paper parcels, don't I begin to look every way, and say all
sorts of things in a hurry? Wouldn't I like to turn my back and run
off if I could? Why don't they put them under the sofa, or behind the
door, I wonder?"
"After all--" began Rosamond, still with the questioning inflection.
"After all--" said Barbara, "there was the fire. That, luckily, was
something else!"
"Does there always have to be a fire?" asked Ruth, laughing.
"Wait and see," repeated Barbara. "Perhaps you'll have an earthquake."
We have time for talks. We take up every little chink of time to have
each other in. We want each other in all sorts of ways; we never
wanted each other so, or _had_ each other so, before.
Delia Waite is here, and there is some needful stitching going on; but
the minutes are alongside the stitches, they are not eaten up; there
are minutes everywhere. We have got a great deal of life into a little
while; and--we have finished up our Home Story, to the very present
instant.
* * * * *
Who finishes it? Who tells it?
Well,--"the kettle began it." Mrs. Peerybingle--pretty much--finished
it. That is, the story began itself, then Ruth discovered that it was
beginning, and began, first, to put it down. Then Ruth grew busy, and
she wouldn't always have told quite enough of the Ruthy part; and Mrs.
Holabird got hold of it, as she gets hold of everything, and she would
not let it suffer a "solution of continuity." Then, partly, she
observed; and partly we told tales, and recollected and reminded; and
partly, here and there, we rushed in,--especially I, Barbara,--and did
little bits ourselves; and so it came to be a "Song o' Sixpence," and
at least four Holabirds were "singing in the pie."
Do you think it is--sarcastically--a "pretty dish to set before the
king"? Have we shown up our friends and neighbors too plainly? There
is one comfort; nobody knows exactly where "Z----" is; and there are
friends and neighbors everywhere.
I am sure nobody can complain, if I don't. This last part--the
Barbarous part--is a continual breach of confidence. I have a great
mind, now, not to respect anything myself; not even that cadet button,
made into a pin, which Ruth wears so shyly. To be sure, Mrs. Hautayne
has one too; she and Ruth are the only two girls whom Dakie Thayne
considers _worth_ a button; but Leslie is an old, old friend; older
than Dakie in years, so that it could never have been like Ruth with
her; and she never was a bit shy about it either. Besides--
Well, you cannot have any more than there is. The story is told as far
as we--or anybody--has gone. You must let the world go round the sun
again, a time or two; everything has not come to pass yet--even with
"We Girls."
THE END.
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