The Story of an Invertation by Lucy M Montgomery

Books at Bedtime by Calming Anxiety, the story of an invitation by Lucy Montgomery.

Bertha Sutherland hurried home from the post office and climbed the stairs of her boarding house to her room on the third floor. Her roommate Grace Maxwell was sitting on the divan by the window looking out into the twilight. A year ago, Bertha and Grace had come to Dartmouth to attend the academy and found themselves roommates. Bertha was bright, pretty and popular, the favourite of her classmates and teachers.

Grace was a grave quiet girl dressed in mourning. She was quite alone in the world. The art who had brought her up having recently died. At first, she had felt shy with bright and brilliant Bertha, but they soon became friends and the year that followed was a very pleasant one.

It was almost ended now. For the terminal exams had begun and in a week's time the school would close for the holidays. Have some chocolates Grace said Bertha Galey. "I got such good news in my letter tonight that I felt I must celebrate it fittingly.

So I went into Carter's and invested all my spare cash in Caramel's. It really is fortunate. The term is almost out. For I am nearly bankrupt."

I have just enough left the furniture tuck out for the commencement night and no more. "What is the good news may I ask?" said Grace. "You know I have an art Margaret, commonly known as Art Meg, out at Riverdale, don't you. There never was such a dear sweet jolly auntie in the world.

I had a letter from her tonight. Listen, I'll read you what it says. I want you to spend your holidays with me, my dear. Merry, say weather and Louise fish and Lily Dennis are coming too.

So there is just room for one more and that one must be yourself." Come to Riverdale when school closes and I'll feed you on strawberries and cream and pound cake and donuts and mince pies and all the delicious, indigestible things that school girls love and careful mothers condemn. Mary and Lou and Lil are girls after your own heart. I know and you shall do all that just as you like and will have picnics and parties and merry doings galore."

There, said Bertha, looking up with a laugh. "Isn't that lovely?" "How delightful it must be to have friends like that, to love you and plan for you," said Grace, wistfully. "I am sure you will have a pleasant vacation, Bertie.

As for me, I am going into Clarkman's bookstore until school reopens. I swore Mrs. Clarkman today and he agreed to take me." Bertha looked surprised. She had not known what Grace's vacation plans were.

"I don't think you ought to do that Grace," she said thoughtfully. "You are not strong and you need a good rest. It will be awfully trying to work at Clarkman's all summer." "There is nothing else for me to do," said Grace, trying to speak cheerfully.

You know I am poor as the proverbial church mouse. Bertie and the simple truth is that I can't afford to pay my board all summer and get my winter outfit unless I do something to earn it. I should be too busy to be low on some and I shall expect long newsy letters from you, telling me all your fun, passing your vacation onto me at second hand, you see? Well, I must set to work as those algebra problems won't solve themselves.

I tried them before dark, but I couldn't solve them. My head ached and I felt so stupid. Now glad I shall be when exams are over. I suppose I must revise that senior English this evening said, "Berth are absolutely," but she made no move to do so.

She was studying her friend's face. Her very pale and thin grace looked. Surely much paler and thinner than when she had come to the academy and she had not by any means been plump and rosy then. I believe she could not stand two months at Clarkman's sort Bertha.

If writing were not going to Art Meg's I would ask her to go home with me, or even if Art Meg had room for another guest. I'd just write her all about grace and ask if I could bring her with me. Art Meg would understand. She always understands, but she hasn't, so it can't be.

As Ben, a thought darted into Bertha's brain. "What nonsense!" she said, allowed so suddenly and forcibly that grace fairly jumped. "What is it?" "Oh, nothing much," said Bertha, getting up briskly.

"See here, I'm going to get work. I've wasted enough time." She curled herself up on the da van and tried to study her senior English. But her thoughts wandered hopelessly and finally she gave it up in despair and went to bed.

There, she could not sleep. She lay awake and wrestled with herself. It was after midnight when she sat up in bed and said solemnly, "I will do it." Next day Bertha wrote a confidential letter to Art Meg.

She thanked her for her invitation and then told her all about grace. And what I want to ask Art Meg is that you will let me transfer my invitation to Grace and ask her to go to Riversdale this summit in my place. "Don't think me ungrateful. No, I'm sure you won't.

You always understand things, but you can't have us both and I'd rather grace should go. It will do her so much good and I have a lovely home of my own to go to and she has none."

Art Meg understood as usual and was perfectly willing. So she wrote to Bertha and enclosed a note of invitation for Grace. "I shall have to manage this affair very carefully," reflected Bertha. Grace must never suspect that I did it on purpose.

I will tell her that circumstances have prevented me from accepting Art Meg's invitation. That is true enough. No need to say that the circumstances are hers, not mine. And I'll say I just asked Art Meg to invite her in my place and that she has done so.

When Grace came home from her history examination that day, Bertha told her story and gave her Art Meg's cordial note. You must come to me in Bertha's place, wrote the letter. I feel as if I knew you from her letters and I will consider you as a sort of honoree niece and I'll treat you as if you were Bertha herself. "Isn't it splendid of Art Meg," said Bertha diplomatically.

"Of course you'll go, Gracey." "Oh, I don't know," said Grace in the will of the month. "Are you sure you don't want to go, Bertha?" "Indeed, I do want to go dreadfully," said Bertha frankly.

"But as I told you, it is impossible. But if I am disappointed, Art Meg mustn't be. You must go, Grace, and that is all there is about it." In the end Grace did go.

A little puzzled and doubtful still. But thankful beyond words to escape the drudgery of the counter and the noise and heat of the city. Bertha went home, feeling a little blue in secret. It cannot be denied.

It also felt quite sure that if she had to do it all over again, she would do just the same. The summer slipped by quickly and finally two letters came to Bertha, one from Art Meg and one from Grace. I had a lovely time, wrote the letter and O Bertie, what do you think? I'm to stay here always. Of course I'm going back to school next month, but this is to be my home after this.

Art Meg, she makes me call her that, says I must stay with her for good. In Art Meg's letter was this paragraph. Grace is writing to you and will have told you that I intend to keep her here. You know I have always wanted a daughter of my own, but my greedy brothers and sisters would never give me one of theirs.

So I intend to adopt Grace. She is the sweetest girl in the world and I am very grateful for you for sending her here. You will not know her when you see her. She has grown plump and rosy.

Bertha folded her letters up with a smile. I have a vague delightful feeling that I am the good angel in a story book. She said.