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Jane Journeys On

Jane Journeys On

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Chapter 1 No.1

Word Count: 3655    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

cid Vermont village was sure that Jane Vail was going to marry Martin We

grave old house with the fanlight over its dignified door which had given Wetherby Ridge its name. He was doing remarkably well at the bank; it was conceded that he would be assistant cashier at the first possible moment; his habits were exempla

le too good-looking, that he was already beginning, at twenty-six, to put on the flesh which had always been intended for him, that his hands w

ne told herself grimly, like a game of Musical Chairs-a gay, excited scramble, and some one always left out. Now, with the exodus of a few and the marrying of many, it had narrowed down to three of them-herself, Martin Wetherby, and Sarah Farraday, who was her best friend during childhood and girlhood; and Sarah, an earnest, blonde girl with nearsighted eyes and insistent upper front t

-shaded house where she lived with her adoring Aunt Lydia Vail, trying to start a story. Miss Vail took great care to tiptoe whenever she passed he

fter breakfast.... Yes, it's a new story, but I don't know what it's about. I'll ask her at dinner.... How's your mother, dear?... Oh, that's good! T

nt Lydia's softly padding footfalls, and at last she gave it up and got out the paper she was to read on "T

you were interrupted, was it, dear? I was especially careful this morning. You know, I believe, without realizing it, you're jus

ith approval and affection, and the Chairman of the Program Committee said she was sure they were all deeply indebted to Miss Vail for a most enlightening little lecture.

who ran noisily up alleyways with butchers' parcels; the short-tempered dames in battered hats who came-or distressingly did not come-to them on Monday mornings, and who frequen

ary treats for us, and to Miss Vail for her delightful paper by a rising vote of thanks." Then the thirty-four ladies of the Tuesday Club clutched at their gloves and handbags and came to their f

e beamed, her gray crêpe arm through the girl's, "I can tell you, we're pretty proud of her!" She had clearly cast herself al

cardinal alighted in a henyard, felt her smile stiffening. Sudden and inexplicable panic and rebellion descended upon her; it seemed certain that if sh

She looked earnestly at her wrist watch. "This very minute! Thank you al

smiling derisively at herself when she reached Sarah Farraday's house and passed t

ear! Why, how did you get away so early? Didn't they serve tea? I was just sick about not going, but the little Macey girl has had so many in

. They were very

closed the music cabinet and came to take the t

and every one else! She acts as if-every one acts-" it made he

, pale face, "isn't that perfectly natural? Of course, I suppos

anything to be

since you were tiny kiddies!" She looked anxiously at her best friend's mutinous face. "I'll tell you," she said, brightly, "let's run around t

use and in the nursery of their little son. Sarah's knowledge of schedule had been correct. Nannie, in an enveloping pinafore, her sleeves rolled high, her hands glistening, was anointing her infant with the most expensive olive oil on the

child, inquired indulgently into the activities of her friends. "Paper go nicely, Janey? Sorry I could

, "and if everything goes well I'll

e glistening infant, came into the room as

, a steadying hand at his fat back, looked like a pink celluloid Kewpie leering at her knowingly. She heard herself saying with unconsidered mendacity that she had an errand to run for her Aunt Lydia, and that Sally mustn't hurry away on her account, and presently she was down in the dim street again, with Edward R.'s jocose reproach that old Marty Wetherby was fading away to skin and bone echoing in her ears. She went

n't quite understand her having gone away so abruptly, and feare

vement, "it'll be all right, dear! You're going to see

k eyes on her plate, "that perhaps I

s Vail laid down her fork and stared, her mild eyes

self, for little Miss Lydia was regarding her much as the aunt of the wretched girl in the fairy tale might have done,-the girl out of whose mouth a frog jumped every time she opened it. Indeed, the sentence seemed actual

per was a nervous strain, that's all! Now you just eat a good supper and then run upstairs and make yourself as pretty as you can!" Her plu

edly in converse with her aunt until Jane came down. "I didn't bring the car," he said. "I thought we'd like to walk." When they reached the sidewalk he li

ur mother likes people to be prompt, you know!" She

ully. He always got husky and thick sounding i

ing to stop b

boat. No, we aren't going to have anybody-but just-us!" He squeezed h

"here they are, no

er, bringing his machine to a stop besi

" said his wife, reprovingly. "Edward R. Hunter,

t with the girls. When Mrs. Wetherby says 'eight o'clock' she means it, not quarter past." She was chatty and intensely friendly with them all during the brief drive

tness and lifted Jane bodily to the sidewalk and hurried her up the walk. "All right for you

"taking off their things in the north chamber,"-a solid and dependable-lo

ld,-not to-night! If I'd known s

u need. Please, Sally! You c

nie brought me, and

a nuisance! I wan

gh her nearsighted eyes. "Jane! You haven'

if you don't co

s sedately for the earlier part of it and joined with conscientious liveliness in the games which came later, just before Mrs. Wetherby's conception of "light refreshments" was served,-pineapple and banana salad with whipp

ut the feeling was not to be eluded. She held herself up to her own high scorn. Why this dramatizing of the pleasant and placid course of Wetherby Ridge events? Why shouldn't she do as the other girls of the set had done? Was she, then, so much finer clay? If she didn't want to be another Nannie-hot pink nursery in a shining little new house-expensive olive oil-home-coming husband in punning mood-pink celluloid Kewpie-half a dozen of everything in flat silver and two really good rugs to start with-then why couldn't she cast herself serenely for the Sarah Farraday sort of thing, substituting a typewriter for a piano? There was nothing so bleak and

ane called back to her. "I know you'll talk half of what's left

t with you?" There was sulk

we don't say, 'stay over night'?" She ran on, ripplingly, but her escort at one side and Sarah Farraday at the other were maintaining,

t my own things. And I'll just slip into another dress so I won't have to put this on for breakfast. It won't take me two minute

rascal-" he said, huskily, gasping a trifle as he always did in moments of high emotion. "You-little-witch! Now I've got you-and I'm going to keep you! Now I guess you'll listen to what I've got to say and-

about it. "I'm so sorry-sorrier than I can tell you,-b

er hand, a little moist, were forcing themselves beneath her chin, but there was something in the honest s

ch a lot, Marty dear, and I wish you wouldn't ask

escue, of sanctuary, she heard herself s

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