make good the loss of the money, and thus Mrs. Rosa’s removal to Shiloh had been accomplished in spite of Brenda’s foolish act.
But Mr. Barlow, realizing that Brenda ought to be made to feel the effects of her folly, had taken the way which she had described to Julia, and her allowance had been cut down to one-third of the usual amount. Brenda had had too much pride to refer to this fact during the summer, and as her wants were always well supplied by indulgent parents, it is hardly likely that she really suffered. Nevertheless, she had had to economize in some of her pet extravagances, and this to a girl of Brenda’s disposition meant a great deal. Deep down in her heart, therefore, she cherished a feeling of undying vindictiveness toward the man whom she considered the cause of all her mortification and inconvenience. She forgot—as we are all apt to—her own thoughtlessness had first of all been the cause of her misfortunes.
In front of the neat little cottage where Julia and Brenda and the others had established Mrs. Rosa in the spring, the two cousins ordered the driver of the depot wagon to stop that August morning. At the sound of wheels, a head pushed itself out of the half-open door, then it withdrew, and in a few seconds another head appeared. Then this, too, withdrew; but just as the carriage came to a full stop, the door was pushed wide open, and a small whirlwind flew toward the girls. It was Manuel, there was no doubt of that, in real clothes,—that is, in jacket and trousers,—with his hair cropped close, and
