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Read Ebook: Prästgården: En Julhistoria by Ossiannilsson K G Karl Gustav
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Ebook has 73 lines and 2455 words, and 2 pages
It was a rather silent drive home, and Mrs. Franklin sighed to herself when Edith barely replied to her remarks. It seemed perfectly hopeless; she and Edith would never grow any nearer to each other; but there was nothing to be done.
That night, when the girls went to their room, Edith was spared the necessity of opening the subject, for Cynthia began at once.
"What a perfectly hateful creature that Bronson is! I don't see how you could go on the river with him, Edith. I think you got well paid for it."
"I don't see why you dislike him so, Cynthia. You take such tremendous prejudices. He is awfully handsome."
"Handsome! I don't admire that style. That la-da-da-it-is-I-just-please-look-at-me kind doesn't go down with me."
Cynthia thrust her hands into imaginary pockets, leaned languidly against the bedpost, and rolled her eyes.
"Er--Miss Franklin--carn't I persuade you to go out on the rivah?" she said, with an exaggerated manner and accent, and a throaty voice.
Edith laughed. Cynthia was a capital mimic.
"Cynthia, what a goose you are!"
"Well, I can't bear him, and neither can Neal. Jack doesn't like him either."
"There, that is just it. You are so influenced by Neal and Jack. Tony Bronson spoke very nicely of Neal, as if he were a true friend of his."
"Pooh! Much friend he!"
"Well, he did, Cynthia, and that is just what I want to talk over with you. Neal must be in some terrible scrape."
"Has that Bronson been telling you about that?" cried Cynthia, indignantly.
"Oh, then it is really true! I thought it must be."
"No, it isn't--at least, not what Bronson told you. I am just certain that whatever he told you wasn't true," said Cynthia, who felt that she had said more than she should. "I shouldn't think you would have discussed Neal with him. Neal is one of our family."
"I didn't," said Edith, somewhat curtly, "though I don't exactly see why you should speak of Neal Gordon as one of our family. I told Mr. Bronson I preferred not to talk about him. But he spoke so nicely of Neal, and said he wanted to help him, and he was afraid the faculty would write about him, and he wanted to get him out of the scrape if he could."
"Oh, the hypocrite! But what is the scrape? Did he say?"
"No, I wouldn't let him. But it is absurd to call him a hypocrite, Cynthia. I shall never believe it unless you tell me why you think so."
The girls talked far into the night, but Edith was not convinced. She felt that there was something at the bottom of it all, for Cynthia could not deny it. After all, she was sorry. Edith liked Neal, a Gordon though he was. But she did not doubt that he was in a difficulty of some kind.
The summer was over and the glorious autumn leaves dropped from the trees, leaving the branches bare and ready for the coming of snow. One could see the course of the river plainly now from Oakleigh windows. Beautiful October was swallowed up by chill November, and the wind grew biting. One was glad of the long evenings, when the curtains could be drawn and the lamps lighted early to shut out the gray skies and dreary landscape.
Neal was back at St. Asaph's, and the winter work had begun. Cynthia and Jack went every day to Boston, and Edith also went in three times a week for lessons. She objected to this on the plea of expense, much as she desired a thorough education. She greatly feared her step-mother had brought it about. But her father reprimanded her sharply when she said something of this, and insisted that she should do as he desired.
The poultry had already begun to bring in a little money, for Jack sold a few "broilers" to his mother at market prices, though she usually add
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