Astra (Musaicum Romance Classics). Grace Livingston Hill

to struggle back into the present and remember. Why had she ever started on this journey, and what was there for her to do this morning that would start in a few minutes now, in this new life she had come into?

      CHAPTER IV

       Table of Contents

      Cameron had asked Astra to wait for word from him in the morning, and she was scarcely dressed and ready for the day before the elderly porter from the night before came ambling down to her section.

      "De gemmen say he 'bliged ta he'p wid de 'rangements, an' take de ole missus out ta her car when we 'rive, an' he say would yoh let me ordah yoh breakfus sent to yoh right hyeah? He says that will be least trouble ta yoh."

      "Oh, why yes of course. Thank you. Just orange juice, buttered toast, and coffee. That's all."

      And presently she was sitting there eating the pleasant, simple breakfast and looking at the thick patterns of frosty ferns and mountains that now decorated the windows. The snow had come in good earnest, and she was glad. It was nice to have a real winter and to feel free from the constant espionage and bickering of her cousin's home. She wondered what her father would have thought about it if he had known just what she was to go through. Surely he would have tried to make some other arrangement for her than to stay with Miriam.

      But the sun had come out and was lighting up a glorious white world. It was almost Christmas, and there was snow! She remembered her childish delight at snow for Christmas, which had lasted through the years. That was something to be glad for, anyway, even if she was alone.

      Then her thoughts went back to her hectic preparations and her wild search for something to turn into money.

      There had been answers to prayer all along the way, and a sure indication that she was right in going away. She had begun her search by asking the Lord to please provide the money if He wanted her to go. And then she had started that systematic search.

      She had got out a box of old trinkets, scarcely hoping that any of them would be profitable. But first of all she came upon a heavy gold chain and a pair of bracelets to match that had been given to her by an odd old lady who had an apartment near theirs one winter while they were staying in New York. Astra hadn't liked the old lady very much. She was always asking inquisitive questions about her father's writing. And Astra never liked the jewelry, though she had to be polite about it, of course. But it was utterly unsuitable for so young a girl to wear, and she had no tender memories of the old lady, who was all too evidently trying to attract the attention of Astra's father. But the old lady seemed to have plenty of money, and likely the chain and bracelets were worth something. There was no reason in the world why she should not sell them. Their marking showed they were solid gold, not plated.

      She went on searching through the jewelry, finding a number of gold trinkets, gold collar buttons, a couple of old watches with no sentimental value to them, some gold spectacles belonging to her father's old uncle, some outmoded bits of sterling silver. There was quite a handful of things. Perhaps they were not all sterling, but it might be she could get something for them. She remembered hearing her cousin speak of a good place to take such things, where they were paying the highest prices for old gold and silver.

      When she had gathered these things together, she went to her wardrobe and looked it over. There were two garment bags containing some evening dresses. One her cousin Miriam had sent up for her a little over a week ago, insisting she should have it for the Christmas party they were expecting to give. That was before they suddenly decided to go to California for Christmas instead.

      It wasn't a dress that Astra particularly liked, but Cousin Miriam said it was smart, and that was what she wanted Astra to have, so she had finally succumbed and bought it. Astra had bought it herself, paid for it with her own money. It wasn't a gift from the family, and so she felt free to get rid of it.

      Carefully she folded it and laid it in a suit box, the very box it had come in. And then she gathered out a few unnecessary embroidered silk trifles of underwear. They were all bought about the same time and had not been worn. They probably were all returnable.

      Breathlessly, she folded and boxed them, and at last she had quite a little assemblage that she hoped would bring her at least enough to buy a ticket back to her hometown. For surely, once there, there would be some of her father's old friends who would lend her enough to get her through until her next allowance was due. She could probably go to her father's friend, Mr. Sargent, and ask him to advance her a little. Perhaps she could tell him that someone had stolen her money in the absence of her cousin. Well, at least she would go step by step, as the day's need became evident.

      Telling the maids that she was going downtown to attend some errands, she boarded a bus with her array of bundles and went first to the stores where she hoped to return her dresses. There was great relief in her eyes when in response to her request she was merely told to go to a certain desk and her money would be refunded. Then, with a roll of nice crisp bills in her purse, and a burden that was much lightened, she went on her way to sell her old gold.

      When she finally got back to the house, she had enough money to buy a ticket, enough over for incidentals, and a night's lodging at least when she got there. So she felt that it was right for her to go. There would surely be some friends when she got to the city that was still home to her who would help her out until she could find Mr. Sargent.

      She paid little heed to eating that day. She had too much to do. She went to the trunk room and got out her trunk and suitcases. Then, rapidly, she began to pack. She wanted to waste no time in getting started. As she folded her garments and stowed them in the trunk and suitcases, her mind was going over and over what she should do. There were some books and pictures, and things that were dear to her heart. If she left them there, Clytie would make short work of them, and there was little likelihood that she would ever see them again unless she took them with her. So she went down to the cellar and found a box which she smuggled up to her room while the maids were out on their own errands. She packed her things carefully, and even nailed up the box securely. She didn't want to waste money paying a man to do what she could do herself.

      But while she was packing her books, she came across a few that she did not care to keep and realized that she might get a little more money from them. Also, there was a whole lovely set of her favorite poets, done in fine binding. She had bought them only a short time ago. Could she get the man to take them back and give her the money? She hated to give them up, but she could surely get them again somewhere, sometime, when money was not so scarce; so she ventured to telephone and found that the book dealer would take them back if they were still in good condition.

      So she took her books down to the dealer and got a little more money for her journey, which made her feel much easier in her mind and quite satisfied that God was helping her.

      That evening, tired as she was, she wrote a note to her cousin.

      Dear Miriam:

      I hope you will not disapprove when you get back home and find me gone. I have been thinking about this move for a long time, and I really feel that it is right and good that I should go. I hope you will agree with me.

      It does not seem fair to Clytie that she should have to share her home and her parents with me. I feel sure she will be a great deal happier with me gone, and it is right that she should have her place in her home.

      Besides, Miriam, I am not a little girl any longer. I am old enough to look out for myself and not to be lonely if I am on my own. It will really be good for me and help me to be more independent. So I think you and Cousin Duke, who have been so exceedingly kind to me in my sorrow and loneliness, have a right to be relieved that you no longer have me as a burden, since in many ways I cannot be quite congenial.

      You need have no worry about me. I have many friends in the old place where my father and I lived so long together, and as soon as I get definitely located, I will write and give you my address.

      So I am sending you my heartfelt gratitude for what you have done for me and many wishes that you have a happy winter.