Girls of Highland Hall: Further Adventures of the Dandelion Cottagers — Inside the Classic

detract from her looks. One couldn’t help liking her honest blue eyes, the wholesome red and white of her fine complexion, her sturdy, childlike figure, her dependable legs and the rich bronze of her abundant hair. It was braided this morning in a thick, uneven braid; from which numerous tendrils that curled in large, loose, rather becoming rings escaped untidily. One guessed that inexperienced Mabel had been her own decidedly unskilful hairdresser that morning. Mabel’s partner in the procession was a girl of about fifteen, so unusual in appearance that strangers turned to look at her. Dark as a gipsy, with glowing crimson cheeks, bright black eyes with curling lashes, soft black hair that grew naturally in pleasing curls neatly tied back with a broad black ribbon; a shapely, graceful figure possessing to an unusual degree an atmosphere of style. The girls were all well dressed, mostly in blue serge, but this fifth young person, Henrietta Bedford, wore _her_ clothes with a different air. One realized that the serge in her smartly cut frock was a degree finer than that in Mabel’s rumpled middy or in Marjory’s very brief skirt. Also Henrietta’s scarlet silken tie was broader, more brilliant and of a heavier texture than those of the other girls. One could easily see that there were wealth and generations of cultivation back of Henrietta—and adventures ahead of her.

One of the adventures was about to begin, but the kindly man who led the procession was far from suspecting it. It was Mabel who started this one.

“If I see another window just bursting with candy I’ll _die_,” said Mabel. “I never _saw_ such windows. I wish I hadn’t left my money in my suitcase.”

“Mr. Black has mine,” said Henrietta. “All but a dime that happened to be loose in my pocket. But I tell you what. We’ll dart into the next candy place and spend that—we can easily catch up. Here, come on in here.”

The clerk, not realizing that the two girls were in a hurry, finished leisurely with another customer before attending to Henrietta who was impatiently tapping the counter with her dime.

“What’s all the rush,” drawled the young man, carefully weighing the pink and white buttercups that Henrietta had chosen. “Catching a train?”

“Yes,” snapped Henrietta. “Don’t bother to tie it up. Come on, Mabel, we must run, now, to catch up. That horrid clerk was dreadfully slow.”

They ran. They caught up with and passed a large number of persons but not with Jean, nor Marjory of the yellow hair, nor Bettie with the bobbing curls nor Mr. Black, who had innocently imagined himself perfectly capable of introducing Chicago to five small maidens from the wilds of Northern Michigan.

He had now lost two of them. He had missed them almost immediately and had turned back to look for them, expecting to find them with their noses against some fascinating window. And now they were well ahead of him, screened from his view by hundreds of busy shoppers and running with might and main.

And now, of course, you will want to know why a round half dozen of Lakeville’s most precious inhabitants should be discovered parading the streets of Chicago and incidentally losing themselves and each other by the wayside.

It was this way. The Lakeville schoolhouse had burned down, nobody could decide where to build a new one and the places used as temporary substitutes were unsatisfactory to many of the parents. Moreover, Mabel’s father, the village doctor, had long wanted to go to Germany in order to study certain branches of surgery—this was before the war, of course. His wife wanted to go with him but she didn’t wish to take Mabel.

Miss Jane Higgins, otherwise Aunty Jane, had been intrusted with money to be devoted to the education of her orphaned niece, little Marjory Vale. Aunty Jane possessed a conscience that would not rest until that money was spent for that particular purpose. Then there were accomplishments that Mrs. Mapes desired for her daughter Jean and that Mrs. Slater wanted for her granddaughter Henrietta that were not, at that time, procurable in Lakeville. The solution to all these problems was boarding school, since the girls were much too young for college.

Of course Bettie Tucker, their inseparable companion, wished to go too. But her father, a clergyman with a large family and a small salary, could see no way to afford what seemed to him an unnecessary outlay; until Mr. Black, an elderly widower with a young heart and a warm affection for all children and especially for Bettie, offered generously to pay all expenses connected with Bettie’s education.